The next day, Lila had yet another idea.
Elias was beginning to see a pattern.
“Alright,” she said, standing in front of his desk after class, hands on her hips. “Today’s lesson is about something crucial to human life.”
Elias looked up from his book. “Survival?”
“Even more important.” She grinned. “Entertainment.”
Elias blinked. “Isn’t that the same as fun?”
Lila gasped dramatically. “No! Entertainment is an art.”
“…I see.”
“No, you don’t, but that’s why I’m here.” She grabbed his wrist. “Come on. Movie night.”
—
The theater was buzzing with life. The scent of buttered popcorn, the hum of quiet chatter, the glow of neon signs.
Elias had never been particularly interested in movies. He understood their purpose, of course—stories meant to evoke emotions, to entertain.
But since emotions were foreign to him, he had always found them… unnecessary.
Lila, on the other hand, looked thrilled.
“Okay,” she said, dragging him toward the counter, “the most important part of movie night is the snacks. What do you want?”
Elias stared at the display of overpriced candy and popcorn. “…Nothing.”
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Lila gasped. “You can’t not get snacks, Elias. It’s part of the experience.”
“I don’t need food to watch something.”
She gave him a look, then turned to the cashier. “One large popcorn, extra butter. And a soda. He’ll share with me.”
Elias opened his mouth to argue.
Lila gave him a smug look. “Consider it part of your lesson.”
He sighed.
—
The movie was a romantic comedy.
Elias wasn’t sure why Lila had chosen it, but she seemed excited, so he simply sat beside her, waiting.
The lights dimmed. The screen flickered to life.
And then, the story unfolded.
—
Elias observed everything. The structure, the pacing, the exaggerated emotional beats. He recognized the humor, the moments designed to make the audience laugh.
Lila did laugh. A lot.
She reacted to everything—the ridiculous misunderstandings, the grand romantic gestures, the comedic timing.
Elias didn’t laugh.
But he found himself watching her reactions more than the movie itself.
—
At one point, Lila nudged him. “You’re staring.”
Elias blinked. “I’m observing.”
She smirked. “You’re supposed to be watching the movie, not me.”
“…You react more than the movie itself.”
Lila snorted, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”
But she didn’t seem annoyed.
She just smiled, turning back to the screen.
—
By the time the credits rolled, the theater was filled with quiet murmurs as people gathered their things.
Lila stretched, yawning. “That was so cute.”
Elias considered. “It was predictable.”
She gasped in offense. “That’s part of the charm!”
“…I don’t see the appeal.”
Lila shook her head. “Of course, you don’t.”
She grabbed the last handful of popcorn, munching as they stepped outside into the night air.
Elias glanced at her. “Then why bring me?”
Lila swallowed her bite, then grinned. “Because you need to learn how to enjoy stories.”
Elias frowned. “I understand stories.”
She gave him a knowing look. “No, Elias. You understand them. But you don’t feelthem.”
He had no response to that.
Because she was right.
—
They walked in silence for a moment.
Then Lila asked, “Did you at least like anything about it?”
Elias thought for a moment.
He didn’t care for the romance. The comedy was predictable. The story followed a structure he could have mapped out in advance.
But—
“…The way people reacted was interesting.”
Lila tilted her head. “Like the audience?”
He nodded. “And you.”
She blinked, then laughed softly. “You really do watch people more than the actual movie, huh?”
“It’s more… engaging.”
Lila hummed. “Well, I guess that’s a start.”
She grinned, bumping her shoulder against his. “Don’t worry. I’ll find a movie you do like.”
Elias had no doubt she would try.
And, for some reason, he didn’t mind.
