Theatrical Love

Chappie 1

"Enjoy your movie." I replied in monotones. The short red head did not respond, which was fine by me. I finally sold a ticket to the last person in line and there was a lull in customers. I leaned back against the popcorn machine, stealing a few pieces.

"Hey, Sherlock, you wanna go stand in the theater?" Bill came swaggering over, his red uniform shirt untucked.

"Isn't it your turn?" I drawled, brushing back some of my dark curls.

"Yeah, well, I know you don't like working with people so I just thought you'd like to take a stab at it." He smiled sheepishly.

"No, you just don't like standing there and you'd rather flirt with all the girls." I countered, heaving myself onto my feet and looking down at him.

"Does that mean you won't?" He pretended to pout, knowing exactly how I felt.

"No, I will, I despise human interaction." I shrugged. He smirked.

"I knew you couldn't resist my offer. It's theater seven!" He patted my shoulder as I slipped past him. I only grunted in response. I moved silently through the few wandering souls who were either leaving the movie or going to it. Those who were leaving looked dazed and high. I couldn't help but sneer at them. I snuck into the theater, red glowing stick in hand, and stood in the corner. The movie was a sappy one, full of predictable lies and heartbreak and kissing, though it was supposedly based upon a true story. But, there were a few explosions and some murders which piqued my interest. I liked the buff main character, a very dangerous ex-military man registered as R.E.D (Retired Extremely Dangerous). When the movie was over, every single girl was sobbing into their boyfriends' shoulders or sniffling, even a few men had some tears trailing down. I smirked, idiots. How had they not seen his death coming? I shook my head, marveling at their stupidity as they filed past me and out into the real world. When I thought the last person had gone I meandered deeper into the theater, lights clicking on, only to see a short blond kneeling over his popcorn, face covered by his hands, and sobbing loudly. I tilted my head and walked over to him.

"Um, sir, you do know the movie's over, right?" I inquired dryly. The boy looked up slowly and I almost gasped. He had deep brown eyes with shaggy brownish blond hair that stuck up oddly.

"I'm sorry...I just would rather not, not be seen, not seen, like, like this." He stammered through his tears and tried for a smile. He brought a hand up and rubbed fiercely at his face, trying to rid it of the evidence that he had been crying.

"Uh, yeah, no, it's fine." I coughed awkwardly, trying to maintain my aloofness.

"I'm John, by the way." He extended a hand, the sleeve of his colorful jumper almost swamping it.

"Sherlock." I gingerly reached out and gave it a quick shake.

"Pleasure." He rubbed at his face again before finally standing up, causing me to almost tumble over the seats behind me in a haste to get out of his way. He was barely up to my chin.

"How old are you?" I felt the question randomly slip from my tongue.

"Er, seventeen." He tilted his head in confusion as he looked up at me, popcorn clutched tightly to his chest.

"Hmm." I hummed and nodded.

"Well?" John sniffled and puffed his chest out, as if to appear taller than he originally was. There was no increase in height for the small hobbit.

"Well what?" I yawned. For some reason, a nervous feeling had settled into my stomach.

"What about you, how old are you?"

"Almost nineteen." I smirked down at him, watching the light glint off of his brown eyes.

"Yeah, how much longer?"