Silent Laughter (Louis Tomlinson) [BOOK 3]

It has been about two days since the first letter Louis sent. That one that is still frustrating me to the the very fucking end.

"Anothe-"

I just nod, rolling my eyes and getting up from my bed to snatch the damn envelope. I don't enjoy acting this way, especially to Sylvia since she has been nothing but patient with me, but this boy just isn't getting the picture.

"You know, maybe if you just don't answer back this time, he will stop." I hear her comment as I open the envelope, sliding my pencil under the seal rather briskly.

I just sigh as I read, a forced and annoyed chuckle escaping my lips.

'All you have to do is meet me and you will get your over priced pen back.

~Louis'

The thing I despise the most about his writing is how his lower case 'h' always looks like an 'n' and man didn't he learn that the neck of the lower case 'h' is supposed to be longer than the base itself? Lord. And why does he always have to sign his name at the bottom? I mean Garett has been the one now delivering by hand each message. I don't understand why he thinks I won't know the letter is from him.

And he still writes all the info on the back of the envelope like my address and his hotel's address even though Garett. is. the. one. giving. them. to. me.

Dick.

And who writes adorable smiley faces next to their names anymore? Louis Tomlinson does.

That's fucking who.

I grab a piece of paper from the stack Sylvia brought me earlier, and I grab my pencil that was briefly in between my teeth.

"You're responding. Again?"

I ignore her, stomping myself to my bed and trying to use one of my hard decorative Hello Kitty pillows as a table.

'It is not an overpriced pen! It is my mother's Heaven Gold pen that she got as a gift from one of my father's colleagues! It's molded from 24K pink gold and is covered with 1,888 fucking DIAMONDS! It's worth as much as you!'

I take a deep breath after writing, feeling as if I just spoke my small rant physically. Yes my mum has about three of those pens, but they're very valuable and just one can send about five people through Uni if she were to sell them.

"Winnie I just don't think you sho-"

I take yet another deep breath, folding the paper and holding it out for Sylvia to take.

'He needs to know.' I mouth to her, standing my ground before her slightly wrinkled hand grabs it from me hesitantly.

I just nod, putting a piece of loose hair behind my ear.

"If you really want to talk to Lewis-"

'Louis.' I correct her (My lips making it sound as if I said Leweeeee), receiving an eyeroll.

"Louis. Whatever. I just think you should talk to him personally about this. I mean you obviously want to talk to him anyway."

I feel my mouth open a little in surprise, my eyes going to Elvis quickly, him smiling at me as well as if he agrees with her.

Trader.

"I have car for today. Maybe I can take you to his hotel and you both converse. And I'll even bring pepper spray just in case the big letter guy tries anything." She states, the big letter guy most likely being Garett.

She walks over to me, sitting down beside me and placing her hand on my shoulder after resting the paper on her lap.

Sylvia is a very caring person. Always has been and always will be. She doesn't favor any one more than the other, and even comforts Gene when the time is needed. I usually hear the talks through the walls, just barely, but still. Which is another reason why I don't really mind the vocal abuse from my sister.

The only bad things she really says to me anyway are "Fat ass" or she just compares me to some animal. And anyway what's really bad about bears? Yes they may hold some weight, but that's really so they stay warm and so they can hibernate without starving, and man bears are really smart and maybe that was a compliment on her part now that I think about it.

Well.

Most likely not, but I'll take it as one from now on.

"Winnie-"

I realize that I've been staring at Louis' paper for no reason at all, and I just look to the side at Sylvia, shaking my head.

'He needs to know.' I repeat my words, already imagining the smug ass smile he's probably going to have on his face when he reads my response. It's not going to be one of the Louis smiles where only the right side goes up and his eyes kind of narrow like as if he won against me or something or that smile he does where his mouth opens and he licks his lips quickly before his lips meet each other again just to continue to curl up upwards at both sides until he practically glows. No. It's going to be that manic smile where his teeth reveal themselves, and his eyes seem to do the same thing, some wrinkles appearing at the side and his teeth not exactly touching each other but his mouth also not being completely open.

Then he's probably going to tell Garett that he shouldn't ask him what he's laughing about, that sometimes he just laughs at things because he's fucking human and then he's going to grab yet another piece of that creme colored paper and write a snarky response using my pen.

He's probably going to write something like,

'1,888 diamonds? Wow. Did you count each one yourself? You must be a sure genius, Winifred.'

or

'I thought you were the type of girl that would think this pen to be the symbol of vanity and egoism and how it reflects a person's true craving for attention from the outside world. But then again, a girl has got to have her diamonds.'

Then he would add a wink at the end like the terrible person he is and then sign his name again.

God.

But that's Louis fucking Tomlinson for you.

The man that is equally as narcissistic as a pen.

Sylvia doesn't question any further and soon walks out, the sound of Garett's car engine audible from here.

I just feel so much indignant feeling from these fucking letters and from the conversation Louis and I briefly had about how people shouldn't leave things with people they don't want to be friends with and me arguing about how Louis left his lighter and that he was being very hypocritical and him saying how it's not the same thing because he wants to be friends with me and me replying with a long explanation of how he most likely did not want to be friends with me when he did in fact leave his lighter since he did insult my pictures. But then he replied with, 'Well your pictures did suck, Winifred. I don't lie to people I like.' and I just replied, 'It's not supposed to matter if they are bad or not.' and then regretting it since he then began questioning me about the picture thing and just-

I'm done.

I then explained to him how some things are too personal to speak about and he didn't respond for about half an hour (Well who's counting anyway) and just began talking about how the people from his window in the outside looked like ants and then we had a different conversation about ants and how some people just plainly look like bugs for some reason from high peaks and then I realized what I was doing and told him to just send my pen back again and now I'm here.

My eyes go down to his letters which I neatly stacked on my nightstand beside me and I place his recent letter right on top, making sure they are all aligned and in order. I just don't want them to fall or be all over the place is all. It's not because I want to keep them or anything, I just want to show them to Izzy and Coop when the time will come. I want to see them agree with me about how ridiculous he's being.

I just sigh to myself as I rest my head on my pillow, staring at the ceiling that resembles mushed up popcorn.

I remember how my mum used to tell me how she wanted to get it smoothed so the room looks more presentable, but I always told her how I liked it the way it is. When I was little at night and would wake up from a nightmare, I would just look up at the ceiling and pretend as if they were clouds. Clouds in the night time...

It felt more pleasant than the face I would see in my head and I even began pretending as if angels were hiding behind them, watching me and making sure I was safe. Well that's what Izzy told me was there, and now that I'm gaping at them I'm just trying to see if I can find any feathers or golden hairs that are peaking out accidentally.

But nothing.

My fingertips begin playing with the loose threads of my duvet and I feel like texting Iz and Coop, seeing them, laughing with them... I just miss them and I just don't understand how keeping me locked up in here is helping me spend time with my family at all. It's saturday and my dad and mum are both at work while Gene is at some mall with her frost giants. She's practically home all the time so I understand why she can leave when she pleases, but when this punishment or whatever this is ends, I'm probably going to hang out with Izzy and Coop immediately, the routine playing out again as before.

But that's just my mum.

She never truly understands does she.

I just close my eyes and decide to go down stairs to speak with Sylvia for a while. We chat about her husband and how he forgot his lunch at home and she's a little worried since he is a construction worker which is a very exhausting job and that he might pass out or something. I ask her if he has any friends at his occupation and she nodded and I just reassured her that someone might have shared something with him like kids at lunch. She just nodded again and we then talked about how I 'm thinking of restocking the fridge at the summer house and she asked me why and I told her that maybe people might come over and be hungry and then I swallowed hard, the doorbell ringing at almost the same time.

Sylvia went to get it and I heard Garett's voice before she came back holding another envelope. She gives me a small smile and hands it to me.

Garett is still at the door, waiting for my response so he can leave and I just brush off Sylvia's stare as I begin reading.

'I'm worth as much as the pen to you? Oh god, I'm blushing.

~Louis'

I feel myself smile a little, following with an eye roll.

I really should stock up that cupboard.

...

Sunday was kind of a bore really. Louis had to see his football coach about something so he didn't really letter me (Not that I cared). My parents don't work sundays so my dad made some oatmeal for the both of us like the old days and we just talked about his progress at work and how they found a mutated strand in a dog's DNA sample and I just nodded.

My mum was jogging around the neighborhood for a while, asking if I wanted to join her, Gene seeming slightly fazed by that before grabbing an apple and going back to her room. I said no since,

A.) I don't do exercise.

B.) I went once with her and all she did was talk about patients that have been recently admitted to the center, making me feel sad that there are more very sad people in the world than I thought the moment before.

C.) I don't do exercise.

So there I am, with my dad and he asks how therapy is going and I just shrugged.

He didn't shrug back.

Then the rest of the day we all pretty much just went to the family area, watching a marathon of Mr. Bean, none of us laughing really except a few chuckles releasing from my dad from time to time. And by the third episode, I realized that Gene wasn't with us and when I looked to ask my mum why she isn't here as well, I saw how she was just sleeping with her manicured hands holding her head up as Mr. Bean realized that his trousers had completely fallen.

I felt some feeling for a second as I looked at the door, shaking my head before continuing my action from before, eventually mirroring my mother and father's actions as well.

Now I'm here at the ward, sitting at my bench with my Coca-Cola lanyard around my neck, my polaroid camera held at the end of it, my hands holding it as my hood is over my head.

I know I'm not supposed to go anywhere but the ward and my home, but if I don't get fresh air soon I'm going to combust. Besides, I really miss taking these pictures.

I want to just run with the camera, all of my senses becoming blurred as the memories begin to capture.

But instead, the sound of footsteps approaching leave me frozen and unsure in general.

"Hi."

Verbal greeting.

Shit.

I don't say anything, my hold just tightening around my camera.

I feel his thigh touch my own as he sits down rather closely to me, the warmth automatic.

"Coca Cola huh? I'm more of a Pepsi person if I do say so myself." He comments, the warmth vanishing as he scoots away, still sitting on the bench nonetheless.

I swallow hard and pull my hood even more so it covers as much as my face as it can.

I hear him shuffle a little in place, the sound of his lighter igniting a fire briefly.

"Want some?"

I look over as little as possible, his blue eyes looking directly at me and I just shake my head before scooting myself away even more, the smell of smoke going all around in the air.

We both just continue sitting next to each other and I hear his black faded vans tap themselves on the floor in that rhythm everyone seems to know when they tap their feet.

"So are you going to tell me why you're not talking to me?"

Now my feet begin doing the tapping.

"Alright. No rush. I'll just stay here until you answer."

I almost snort, but then I realize that he would think I'm talking to him.

And he can't think that.

"Mr. Tomlinson?"

And the angels have spoken.

I hear his therapist open the door, and as I continue looking at the floor, I can see the chubby man's shiny black dress shoes from my view.

"Sorry. Looks like it's not happening today." Louis answers, not moving a muscle.

My eyes widen.

He wouldn't-

"Mr. Tomlinson I don't think certain people would enjoy knowing that you are being like this. Now get inside already. You're taking up time."

Yeah. Certain people like me.

"Well. Fuck, it looks like those certain people are going to be pissed then. Oh well."

Fuck, Louis.

"Mr. Tomlinson! I have the number on speed dial. Do not test me son."

Fuck.

"He has the number on speed dial, Winn. Did you hear that?"

Damn it.

My eyes close for a brief second before I finally sigh in defeat.

"Just give us a few minutes, Hane. Don't get your knickers all in a twist."

I continue tapping my feet, not really knowing what else to do at the moment.

"Mr. To-"

"Please." Louis' tone is now serious.

"I just need to take care of some things. I'll even give the next guy after me some money if that'll shut him up so I get my full hour with you. Alright?"

I hear a deep long sigh from Dr. Hane, his feet beginning to turn around.

"Don't smoke in here." He says before finally going back into his office, the door closing as he awaits for his persistent patient.

"So. You didn't answer my question."

My feet stop what they're doing before I finally give in and look at him, pushing down my hood so it lands on my shoulders, my long hair most likely looking a mess as it reveals itself to the public.

I point to my mouth and then to my lap, trying to tell him that I didn't bring any napkins with me.

His face kind of drops, his eyes looking a little disappointed for a second...

"Oh. I see."

He still continues to smoke anyway, not really caring to regard any of the looks of the doctors and patients walking past us with repulsed glares.

His T-shirt today is black and says "Off the wall" in all white capital letters with the Vans logo beside it, making him look like a walking advertisement for the shoe company since it corresponds with his footwear at the moment.

I still like it anyway.

"Try anyway." He says, his eyes now narrowed since he saw me observing his apparel most likely.

I just nod.

'The pen.' I mouth.

He takes another blow of his cigarette, the smoke leaving his lips as one of his eyebrows raises.

"I don't believe you. You started acting like-"

Now his eyes observe me.

"this back at the restaurant when I wanted your number. This is not happening because of the pen."

I shrug, not really knowing what else to say.

"I want to be friends with you Winnie. I thought I already had made it clear with the whole letter thing, but I guess I was mistaken."

His voice sounds like rain and he doesn't put the cigarette back in his mouth.

I don't move.

He takes a deep breath as his free hand goes to his pocket and I just watch.

"I don't want to be one of those assholes that keeps on thinking that the chick is just playing hard to get when she's just trying to get rid of him. You know?"

He places the pen in my own pocket and my stomach begins to feel weird.

"I would like to see you again. And I know you already know that..."

He stands up, the white stick still in between his dainty fingers.

My eyes follow his every move.

"If you want to hang out, just tell me one day and I'll be glad. If not, then it was nice meeting you Winifred Queen."

His face smiles for him, the skin on the side of his eyes not crinkling.

The sound of the door opening and closing from across the hall plays through my head and I just stare back at my camera again.

...

"You haven't touched your food. What's wrong?"

My fork continues moving around the peas, pushing them closer to the rice as if they were in some race with each other or something.

"Hopefully she's starting a diet plan." Gene comments as she stuff a forkful of salad in her mouth, her eyes not seeming to hold any care.

Sylvia kind of scowls at her before looking back at me with her eyebrows knitted together.

If my mum wasn't asleep right now or if my dad wasn't still at the lab, one of them most likely would have made everyone stop what they're doing, my mother telling me repeatedly how she's here for me no matter what and my father getting out of his chair to leave a kiss on the top of my head. They would just be overbearing completely while Gene would gag and finish her food. But since Sylvia is the one here right now, she decides to handle the situation like a normal person.

"Is it the food? I thought you liked my pot roast." She comments, folding her hands with one another with her head slightly tilted to the side.

I just shake my head, forcing a smile.

'The food is great.' my lips form.

Sylvia shakes her head too.

"How would you know if you haven't eaten one bite?"

"Oh god, don't tell me you're anorexic now? Another thing to add to the list of your fucking problems." Gene says again, her plate almost empty.
"Don't you speak that way to your sister! One more bad thing from your mouth and I will tell your mother!"

I look over at Gene whose mouth is slightly open with her eyes open in disbelief.

"Are you serious? You do know I'm eighteen right?"

Sylvia is not even looking at her.

"No. Sometimes I forget and think you're still five."

Gene's eyes grow dark, her lips pursing together as she places her utensils down.

"I think I'm done." She says, her shoulders more slumped over than usual. Since Gene has been going to the gym with her friends, she's gotten skinnier, her collarbones popping out like a cake mold.

Her eyes meet mine quickly before she quickly looks away and stands up from her seat, her fists clenched tightly before finally leaving the room.

Sylvia sighs.

"I'll take care of her later."

She swallows.

"Now about you. What's wrong?"

I shrug, looking back at the food on my plate. The roast does smell especially delicious today, but I'm just not hungry.

I feel as if my chest is filled with cement and my mind seems as if it's lacking something.

"Is this about the blue eyed boy? He didn't send you any letters today I noticed."

My thoughts click and the color blue just appears in my head like water droplets falling over a desert.

I shrug again.

"What did he do?"

I continue breathing.
It's what I did.

I blink.

"Do you want me to take you to him?"

I slowly feel my head lift up and this time my eyebrows knit together as I just stare at this miracle of a woman before me, a small smile creeping on her face.

'You would do that?' I mouth.

She immediately nods.

"I told you. I have my car and if anything, I'll tell your mother that I took you with me to the store because you need more shampoo, which you do need may I add."

I feel the corner of my lip curl up and I nod.

There's a lot of nodding in this house.

'Thank you.'

She smiles wider.

"But first you must finish your food."

...

I just continue standing in front of the door, my hands beginning to sweat and my heart beating fast in my chest.

That happens to a girl when she runs up four flight of stairs when the elevator is broken.

I curse the creator of stairs and fourth floors.

It was quite a challenge even getting in this place. The outside was surrounded with paps and hormonal teenagers, both hopeful in their attempt of either getting inside or to get Louis to come outside. Neither plan working.

Hotel security was harsh and tall, all of the men and the one scary looking woman both very tough appearing as they stood by the doors, not making one move. If they weren't wearing hotel uniform, anyone would mistake them for the palace guards.

Sylvia actually got down with me, no one believing us at the fact that I know Louis personally. One guard even laughed and I wanted to slap him, but the voice in the back of my head told me how it wouldn't be very lady like.

But I swear if he laughed again, I would have used my lady fist to punch his face.

But when I finally told them to contact Garett to tell them for me, they obliged and when the middle aged man appeared, they finally let me pass and Garett told me the directions to Louis' room and now here I am.

My eyes look around me for a second, not even my mind believing my own actions.

My fist knocks three times, not too loud but not too faint either.

When the door opens after a few seconds, Louis mumbles a bit before rubbing his eyes.

"Wha-"

I'm not sure if his eyes narrow or if he's just that tired, but either way he looks confused to see me.

He just says my name.

"Winnie."

'Louis.' I mouth.

He doesn't say anymore. He just moves to the side to let me in.

He's wearing blue plaid boxers and a white Coca-Cola shirt. He even has to wear a T-shirt to sleep.

I like that.

He closes the door behind him and he just yawns.

'Were you-'

He shakes his head.

"Nah. Was just watching some TV, a little tired but probably not gonna pass out for a few more hours."

I just nod and he puts his fingers through his hair.

He shaved.

"Um do you want to watch with me?"

I glance away from him and begin observing his room. The lights are all off except that from a lamp beside his bed and the light coming from the TV.

The lights outside are off as well.

Some empty water bottles are scattered everywhere, but nothing else is really messy about the space.

Damn.

It's cleaner than my room.

'Sure.' I respond when I turn back to him, receiving a tired smile.

"Cool. There's nothing really on though I must warn you." I shrug and he shrugs back.

He begins leading me into the main area, my butt placing itself on one of the couches once I spot it from the corner of my eye.

He sits down next to me.

A rerun of Doctor Who (The one from the 70's) is playing. I feel a little lost about what's happening since the episode did not just begin.

It's not really my favorite show since I do prefer the newer version, but I still like watching it from time to time.

"The professor guy is trying to look for some treasure and the Doctor and Jo think the reverend master is up to something."

I look over at Louis and I smile in appreciation, placing my arm on the couches arm.

"Do you watch this show?"

My eyes go back at him, the light from the television hitting his face, his blue eyes looking darker due to the lighting.

'Sometimes. I like the new one better though.'

He practically gasps, taking me off guard.

"I'm sorry about scaring you, but Winifred. Oh dear sweet naive Winifred. That version just does not compare to the original."

I try to fight back a smile, turning my body completely to the right.

'Better plot.' I reply.

He brings his bare feet up on the cushion with him, now turning his own body in my direction.

I do the same with my feet as well, taking off my shoes first though of course.

"They're looking for treasure! What better plot can there be!?" He defends, his mouth taking up his whole face as he continues talking as if I betrayed him.

I shake my head in disapproval.

'Rose.'

He raises an eyebrow dramatically.

"Rose?"

I nod.

'Rose.' I repeat.

He scoots himself closer to me, our knees touching while the both of us ignore the program.

"Who is this Rose you speak of?"

This time I gasp and his eyes widen in surprise.

I chuckle a little before pulling all of my hair to the side of my face, putting on a serious face again.

'Rose is the Doctor's world, my dear friend.'

Louis smiles at the last part.

He smiles wide.

"The doctor's world huh? What, like the planet he's from? I thought he was from Gallifrey, my dear comrade."

I roll my eyes at what he calls me, laughing a little before shaking my head again and leaning myself closer.

'She's his love interest.'

"Did you say love interest?"

I nod and he sticks out his tongue like a little boy does when he thinks girls have coodies.

I slap his knee and this time he laughs.

"What? I just don't understand why every show has to have a love interest. Like why can't an alien guy just travel in time because it's fun? Why does a Rose have to come and why does he have to fall in love with her?"

I feel my mouth open and I place my hand over my chest.

'Bite your tongue.' I mouth.

He just sticks his tongue out again and I do the same before we both just begin to laugh.

Since he's evidently tired, his laughter sounds more like cotton than sound itself while mine sounds like a quiet goose.

"Doctor! Do you really think he would betray us-"

The show comes back and neither of us turn back to look at it.

My eyes are just looking at his wrinkled shirt and his are just looking at me period.

'I thought you were a Pepsi type of person.' My lips form.

He releases a soft chuckle, his head pointing down for a second before coming back up.

His smile vanishes.

"Why are you here, Winnie?" He questions seriously, a bit of vulnerability in his eyes.

My lips separate and I begin twirling a piece of my hair around my left index finger, my free hand going to the pocket of my hoodie.

I take out the pen, his gaze going to the overly expensive ink stick.

"Winnie, I don't-"

I place it on his lap, his mouth closing all on its own.

'I want you to return it to me tomorrow... and the day after that...and the day after that-'

He holds the pen in his hand, his stare falling on me again.

'and the day after that.'

Notes