Silent Laughter (Louis Tomlinson Fan-Fic) Book 3

Part thirty-six

I place his picture aside again and I close my eyes, trying to control myself. I can't think like this. I can't think like this. I can't think like this. 

I swallow everything within me and I slowly get myself up from the ground after stuffing his picture in my pocket. I want to talk to someone. I need to talk to someone. And since, Coop is at work, I only have one other person and no matter how much I hate to do this, I must speak to them if I want to be able to get myself through whatever this is. 

I turn around, facing the wooden door with its dark chestnut colored surface and several scratches and indentations. My eyebrows furrow as I stare at them. No other door in the house has these scrapes upon the exterior and Gene hasn't been here in years. Maybe she's always been like this room, but I've just begun to realize it. 

I shake my thoughts and I inhale through my nose, a small tickle within it as I do so, and I knock softly on the door, twice.

"Winnie?"

His voice sounds almost begging and I realize that he was sitting right on the other side as well when I hear him shuffling his body, the tone louder than I expected.

"Winnie are you okay a-"

I wipe my hands on my damp clothes, trying to rid of the dust before unlocking and opening the door, finally revealing myself to him.

He's standing up now and his mouth is slightly agape, his feet walking him backwards a bit when he notices me look down briefly. He's trying to give me a little space. He looks so concerned, so afraid of startling me again and it makes me feel worse.

"I'm sorry." He whispers. His hair strands are everywhere. They're going up, down, to the left, to the right, and I can't help but think he was pulling in them like he does whenever he's nervous. I made him like this. Fuck. I need to call her now.

I don't respond to his apology since I don't think he needs to fucking apologize, I do. However, I'm not ready to speak to him about any of that yet. I need my phonecall.

'Can you-'

His eyes widen slightly once he sees my lips moving and his expression transforms to this alertness kind of thing. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

'-bring me my phone?'

His lips touch each other and his eyes fill with this strong emotion. He looks like he wants to step forward, that he wants to put his fingers through his hair again, but he's refraining so forcefully and it's driving me mad.

"You want to leave." He states, he mumbles.

I glance down at the floor and I lick my lips before shaking my head.

'No.' I mouth.

With all of my strength I look back up at him, the sound of the rain roaring through the windows beginning to create these goosebumps all over my skin. The room is chilly.

'I just want to talk to someone.'

He doesn't say anything. He just stares at me.

'Help me calm down.'

"Yeah um- I- yeah I'll do that."

Now he's not looking at me and I feel my chest hurt as I watch him walk towards the couches, his hands moving pillows and other things around in search of my device. I just continue to look and observe. He's looking quickly, as if this was a life or death situation, cursing under his breath again and I want to touch his shoulder, I want to look him in the eye and smile so he's reassured that none of this was his fault and wait for him to nod until I hug him and we just remain there in the middle of the room cradled in one another. But that can't happen. It's just so fucking much that I've messed up in less than an hour and it'll be fucking crazy of me.