𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 | louis partridge

five

thanks for 100 reads i literally just posted this story not too long ago :)

we had ordered pizza, one cheese, one pepperoni. my mother came and got herself three slices. after she did that louis and i were having a feast, not a fancy once, considering it was pizza, but a feast nonetheless.

we were in the dining room this time, my worn wooden table holding our pizza and elbows up. it was the same table i had when louis left, and i think he remembered it. we made memories here at this table.

-

louis and i sat at the table, old backwards button up shirts as our smocks. old newspapers were spread over the table, articles and cartoons on display for us.

yet, we weren't paying attention to the news or the silly little cartoons. we each had a piece of printer paper and pots of paint, so much paint.

so many colors. red, blue, yellow. green, orange, purple. pink, brown, black, white. we had styrofoam plates for mixing colors, we could make any shade imaginable.

our fingers and arms were coated in paint, different colors flecking our skin. thank goodness we had smocks on, they were covered in a variety of colors.

i even had some green paint on the end of one of my pigtails, lord knows how that even happened. louis' hair, however, was clean from the vibrant paint. lucky boy.

i had painted a landscape with my fingers, green lumps, otherwise known as hills, were smudged onto the bottom of the sheet. some spots were darker than others, meaning i had piled more paint there.

there was a tree, i had drawn out the trunk with my small fingers. then used the pads of my fingers to press on leaves with green paint. behind all that was a blue sky, a bright yellow sun in the middle of the sky. there was a noticeable thumb print right smack in the middle of the sun.

it was your typical seven year old finger painting. i thought i was going to be a famous artist, painting masterpieces like the mona lisa.

ha.

louis had a mess of colorful thumbprints all over the page, some colors making a muddy mess. clearly, i was a way better artist.

our mothers were across from us, watching us while sipping cups of coffee and gossiping. i had no clue what they were even talking about.

i heard some woman's name come up with louis' dad's name repeatedly. there were hushed whispers at what i could only assume were the juicy parts. all of the good stuff was hushed, louis' oblivious ears didn't catch a word.

"mum! look!" louis held up his collage of colors, the limp paper bending as he proudly put it on display for his mother.

she set down her cup of coffee, giving him a thumbs up. "it looks amazing, louis! are you finished?"

he nodded vigorously, his mop of hair flopping wildly on his head. "yup!"

she stood up, pushing her chair in. "alright, baby. let's go get you cleaned up, yeah? don't touch anything!" she carefully helped him out of the chair, guiding him to our guest bathroom with a steady hand on his back.

my mother looked at me. "are you done, honey?" she looked down at my artwork. "it looks very good, dear."

i gave my piece one last judging look. "yeah, i think i am." my mother then did what louis' mother did. she guided me out of my chair, helping me to the kitchen sink. she made sure my paint smeared hands didn't touch anything, she didn't want our white walls to be painted an assortment of carnival colors.

she turned on the faucet in the kitchen, bringing over a little pink stool with frogs on it to help me reach the sink. she pumped some lavender scented soap into my hand. my tiny hands scrubbed each other, succeeding in removing the partially dried paint. after i was satisfied, i rinsed my hands in the lukewarm water, watching the suds wash down the drain.

i flicked off the water, hopping off of the stool. my mother gave me a kitchen towel to dry my hands on, and after my hands were dry i went back into the dining room, my mother trailing me, to see louis and his mother putting lids back onto the pots of paint.

"we'll have to give you a bath later." my mother commented to me, gesturing at my hair. "how'd you even get paint in your hair?"

i shrugged, putting the blue lid on the blue paint, snapping it on with some force. "i don't know!"

as i was putting the lid on the black paint with a struggle, the force i was applying tipped the pot over, making paint spill out onto the newspaper. to make matters worse, it spilled off of the newspaper onto a sliver of exposed table. i hurriedly set the pot upright, looking at my mother with worry. "i'm sorry!"

she looked down at me with a forgiving smile. "it's okay, honey. it was an accident. go get the roll of paper towels off of the counter."

i darted into the kitchen, grabbing the towels before running back. my mother took them from me, tearing off a few towels to soak up what was on the table. louis' mother folded up the dirty newspapers, careful to not spill out my mess, and took them to the trashcan.

louis came up to me, pulling on my left pigtail. it wasn't in a rude way or anything, it wasn't a harsh tug, it was affectionate. "now we barely have any black paint!" he teased, making me pout.

"louis! it was an accident!" i protested, crossing my arms over my chest.

he giggled softly. "i know! i was joking. sorry, y/n." he gave me a hug as an apology, my arms trapped in between our chests.

"hey!" i squirmed out of his hug. "my arms are stuck!" once my arms were free, i gave him a hug back. "there!"

i heard our mothers laugh. "louis, dad is going to be home soon, i have to go get started on dinner." his mother said, causing us to pull apart.

louis pouted. "aww! can i stay here? please?" he begged, nudging me to join in.

"yeah! he can run super fast across our yards to go back for dinner!" i added as our mothers exchanged looks.

"well..." louis' mother faked thinking about it. "i guess so... only if louis can run super super fast!"

louis nodded rapidly. "i can run super super super fast!"

"okay then!" my mother exclaimed. "then i suppose you can stay until your mum calls."

louis and i cheered, running up to my bedroom to go play with toys.

-

on the table i could see an area that was faintly darker, a reminder of my clumsiness. louis' gaze followed mine, seeing the light stain. "hey," he said. "that's from the spilt black paint, right?"

i nodded, looking back up at him. "yeah, it is." i wiped my greasy pizza fingers on a napkin, noticing louis and i were both done. "do you want any more pizza?"

he shook his head, patting his stomach. "no, i'm done."

i reached over and took his paper plate and stacked it on top of mine, taking it to the kitchen to throw it away. when i came back, louis was still in the same position, but his eyes followed me.

"what?" i asked, a laugh in my voice. it really was awkward, he was staring at me.

"it's just so weird being back." he admitted, standing up. "and.. i don't know it just feel so different."

"that's because we're different louis. we've changed." i said, with a wave.

maybe our friendship changed, too.

maybe how we saw each other changed.