Louis' POV

As I make my way through the room to my corner, I notice the new anti smoking poster that’s taped high on the wall right behind his desk.

In bold white letters it says, If you’re smoking in here...You’d better be on fire and all I can do is laugh to myself as I cross my arms over my chest.

I lean myself against the wall right beside the door and I just laugh some more as he finally enters the room, his breathing heavy as if he just ran a marathon when he probably just walked up a flight of stairs.

“What are you laughing on about?” He questions, clearing his throat before he finally sits himself down in his thrown.

I glance behind him at the poster again and I smile widely.

“Aww Haney poo I always knew you were a romantic, but this-”

I point behind him with my hand and he raises an eyebrow.

“-For me? I just can’t believe you care for me that much, sweetheart.”

He sighs that annoying ass sigh I have grown so used to.

“Doctor Hane, Louis. Please give me at least that small tad of respect.”

My smile fades and Dr. Killjoy fucking makes the room tense like always. He takes my silence as a reasonable response I’m guessing since he really doesn’t further question the matter and instead organizes some loose papers on his desk.

“And the poster I did not buy for you. I bought it for my office since you are not the first person I have had troubles with when it comes to the no smoking policy of this center. I’m hoping it will give this place more structure and influence youths as yourself to come into realization that there are certain times and certain places for doing things such as to smoke and this is neither a time nor place for it.”

My arms drop themselves moderately, my hands going to my pockets.

“Please do not test me. If you take out even one of those lung vanquishing sticks, I will be done here.”

My eyebrows furrow together and my eyes narrow.

“Are you kidding me right now? Can’t I just fucking put my hands in my pockets? I didn’t even bring any cigarettes with me this time.”

His eyes actually meet mine, the papers now perfectly stacked on top of each other on the right corner-end of the work table.

“I don’t believe you.”

I lean myself away from the wall now, standing myself straight.

“And how is that my problem?”

He grabs that clipboard of his from the side of his desk and places it in front of him.

“Well let’s see. If you do indeed have a cigarette in your possession, I can get you thrown out of the center and I don’t think your management would like that very much would they?”

The room stays quiet for a while.

“I don’t have any.”

He leans himself over slightly, putting his hands on top of the surface of his desk and he makes them hold one another.

“Prove it.”

I don’t understand why he fucking thinks I would pull that shit again. I’m so close. So fucking close to getting out of this place and I can’t comprehend why he would even think I would fuck up my chance of freedom by pulling out a cigarette just to aggravate him.

Besides, I haven’t even smoked in this place for weeks. I usually just take my smokes and leave them in the rental and I know that he’s noticed.

However, I decide to comply with this shit head and I unstuff all of my pockets to prove my innocence when I stroll over to his desk.

I pull out the car keys and my phone from my right, my fingers wiggling the keys in front of his face before placing them on his desk just in case he wants to check to see if there are any specs of the non existent cocaine I smoked left.

The bugger actually does grab them and he observes them as if he were inspector Clouseau or some shit.

I just roll my eyes, trying to sustain myself as I continue on.
My hand pulls out some lint and a paper clip, the remaining items from the pockets in the back.

“What about the left pocket.”

I scowl at his words and open my mouth to say something until I feel my fingertips touch the napkin.

Fuck.

Why do I have to fucking bring it with me everyday.

I think he notices my change of mood since he does this weird eyebrow thing that makes him look as if he’s thinking Gotcha.

Prick.

“That’s all I have.” I lie, refusing to pull out the quilted serviette.

“What’s in that pocket, Mr. Tomlinson?”

My lips separate for a second, but quickly close as my eyes dart to my keys. I grab them and begin placing them back in its place.

“It’s nothing. Just a napkin. That’s all.” I state, not being able to look at the man.

“Just a napkin, huh?”

I quickly glance at him, seeing how he’s just gaping at that clipboard again.

“Yup.”

“Alright.”

“Alright.”

I clear my throat and decide to sit myself down in the chair for the patients.

“Are we going to start this session or what?” I say, wanting him to not test my patience much longer.

“Sure.”

I briefly close my eyes in relief, realizing that I celebrated too quickly when I see him grab a small trash bin.

He puts it my way.

“But first, why don’t you throw that napkin away.”

My eyes open and I begin to wonder how he even got certified in the first place. If he does this to each person, then wouldn’t they just get even angrier?

“What do you have against the friggin napkin?”

“What do you have against throwing the napkin away?”

I don’t say anything in response.

I know I must look like a fucking moron. I mean it is just a fucking napkin, but it’s the writing on it that I don’t want to throw away.

She wrote on it.

It’s the thing that we do and I don’t want anyone else knowing about it. I just want to have one thing that no one knows about for once. It’s as if nothing is really fucking special anymore because people find out and shit on it.

Not this time though.

This is special to me for some reason; this is mine.

“I’m not going to throw it away.” I say more sternly, sitting myself straight so he sees how serious I am about this.

“Mr. T-”

“No. Look. If you don’t believe me about the cigarette thing then I don’t know what else to tell you, alright.”

I take out the napkin, showing him the blank side before I rest it on my thigh.

“I don’t even know how this conversation got so intense anyway. I just came in here wanting to get this session over with and you’re here getting all angered about anything and everything and I apologize about the joke I was making in the beginning. I didn’t think you would make such a big fucking deal about it.” I speak my mind, not caring about holding back.
He continues holding out the trash can to me and I just keep on shaking my head.

“Mr-”

I interrupt again, not wanting to hear his bullshit any longer.

“No. No. No. Ever since I signed this deal with Simon and Modest, I’ve been feeling this collar locked tightly around my neck as if I were a pet, Modest being the bastards holding the leash.. They do this to me, Harry, Liam, and just all of us and when I finally get some alone time from them, when I’m finally able to meet new people and live, I get pulled by the chain. You want to know why I’m so angry? Why I sometimes even regret ever going up on that fucking stage to sing in front of three judgemental assholes? I’ve lived under this puppetry for so damn long and I feel as if these companies wanted more than just my ‘talent’, they wanted my friggin life and I gave it to them when I signed my name in that shitty cursive with a crappy faded black inked pen. So no ‘Dr. Hane’, I will not fucking throw away a napkin. Now go send Mark my condolences, I have him on speed dial on my phone if you’re going to demand for that as well.”
I take a deep breath soon after, no longer giving a single shit about Mark and this man in front of me who thinks he holds any form of superiority because he owns more than one suit.
The ticking clock in the corner begins to sound throughout the room and we’re both just having some sort of stare off with each other.

Tick.

He looks down at his clipboard.

Tock

He grabs a pen and clicks the top, revealing the inked tip.

Tick

He begins writing and my hands grip themselves on to the chair’s arms.

Tock

“What are you writing?” I finally decide to ask.

Tick

He just chuckles, still writing. My hands begin to sweat and I hold on tighter.

Tock

He gives me his attention again, a small smile on his face.

Tick

“We’re finally getting somewhere now, Tomlinson.”

My hands release.

Tock

That sneaky bastard.

…

“So do you just do this to all of your patients? You piss them the fuck off through reverse psychology or whatever to get them to spill?”

I slump my body even more into the seat, my feet crossed over each other in a relaxed way.

Yes I’m still a bit angry, but I’m also quite impressed.

Didn’t expect lil’ Hane-o to have the cynical intelligence to even come up with such a plan.

His hands are clasped together, his body leaning over his desk slightly and he just shrugs.
“My goal initially was not to anger you, but either way you still finally spoke up. So yes I guess.”
I nod and he just nods.

“I think I have underestimated your manipulative powers.” I speak, his smile fading.

“I’m not here to manipulate anyone, son. I’m here to help, and I apologize that this was the path I had to go to in order to get you to open up, but it was needed.”
I force a chuckle.

“Hey. Calm down. It was a compliment truly. And I don’t give compliments that easily.”
I give him a wink and he rolls his eyes.

“Well we both differentiate on the idea of what flattery truly is.”

This time I roll my eyes and he takes a deep breath.

“So tell me,”

He clears his throat.

“What’s the napkin all about?”

I feel myself force this sarcastic smile.

“Ah, you think that just because your plan to rile me up worked, you think I’m an open book now.”
He shakes his head slowly.

Tick.

Tock.

“No. It wasn’t that, I-”

I chuckle.

“Was just busting your balls a little, Haney poo. No biggy.”

He huffs slightly at his nickname, getting over it though in a few seconds.
This time I clear my throat and my smile vanishes.
I place my hands over my stomach.

“And about the napkin… It’s just something.”

My thumbs begin tapping against the fabric of my shirt and I briefly look down at them.

“I see.” He says.

I don’t say anything back.

I just shrug.

“Does this something have anything to do with Diane’s daughter?”

For some reason my throat goes dry. I’m not sure if I should tell him. I mean I really don’t want anyone to know about my friendship with Winnie. I thought I clarified that.

“How do you know that?”
Instead I say that though.

I hear him chuckle and I look up at him again.

“You’re not a peaceful person, Mr. Tomlinson. However, ever since I’ve been seeing simple things occur in relation to that girl, I’ve noticed how you have seemed…..calmer.”
The room is quiet again.

“I’m a peaceful person.”

“No. You’re not getting the point. You’re not peaceful. You’re as peaceful as an exploding fire truck in the middle of the highway during a tornado.”

“Gee thanks, Hane”

“No. I’m saying that I think by being with this girl-”

“Winnie.” I correct.

He scoots his chair closer to the desk.

“Yeah. Winnie. By accompanying Winnie, you’re changing.”

My thumbs begin to tap faster.

“What do you mean?”

Winnie is a friend of mine -I have concluded for a few weeks now- but I don’t really see the change this guy is pointing out.

The stupid ass plan I had created in my mind had now become obsolete in my eyes since I don’t want to be a dick to her and I have only about two weeks left here anyway until I get to reunite with the others again for the continuation of the tour.
Leaving this place hasn’t even been a priority of mine for a while anyway. The only priorities I have had are to make sure I claim ownership of the Rovers again, to see my mum and sisters at least one time before my departure, and to continue stealing that expensive ass pen of hers.

“You’re beginning to take things more into consideration. Like when you were angry with me earlier, I remember you apologizing for that joke you made in the beginning. It’s like if I ask why you think the sky is blue, you’ll say your opinion. However, you would then end your explanation with but of course I may be wrong or but Winnie thinks it’s because of the amount of oxygen in the air or something in that manner. You’re becoming more humble.”

“Winnie wouldn’t think it’d be because of the amount of oxygen in the air. She would just make this weird thinking face and stare at the sky for a while. She would overthink the whole fucking thing like she does and say that the sky is blue because of its soul or something. She’s not the sciency type.”

After reanalyzing my own words, my eyebrows furrow together and my eyes just begin to roam around the room.

What the fuck did I just say?

“I think you finally understand what I’m trying to say for once.” He jokes, his eyes smiling with him when I gape back at him.

No words release from me, my response being a genuine nod instead.

…

The rest of that haunting hour was just about the both of us talking about me and how my life has changed since the first time we spoke.
He pointed out how I have not really spoken of Jane for a few sessions and I just shrugged. I would usually text her when Winnie would leave or when I would finish dropping her off. Jane is my friend don’t get me wrong, but I’m not going to stop everything I’m doing with Winnie to answer her phone call. That would be rude and I’m not rude with her nor do I plan to be.
I’m proud of you he said before I left the room. I just looked at him and nodded since I don’t really see what there is to be proud about. I mean all I do is walk in there and answer his many questions. Nothing special.

Whatever I guess.

As I lean my body against the wall in the hallway, awaiting Winnie to come out so we can both get lunch, I take out my phone and I press the Twitter app.

I’ve got over sixty-thousand notifications.

What a damn surprise.

I look through some of the tweets directed towards me.

A quarter of them are about Harry and I.

Of fucking course.

Half are desperate girls either begging for a follow or saying that it’s their birthday while all the rest are pretty much all hate, telling me to go jump off a bridge or to go fuck myself.
Well they’re the ones that should go fuck themselves.

I regret opening the shitty application, and I quickly get out of it, checking my messages.
I reply to Lottie’s picture of the twins, not being able to help but smile.
Those little adorable buggers.

My mind cuts off for a bit when I hear a door shut close by. The footsteps are short heavy strides, sounding like Winnie’s when she wears those boots of hers.
I feel my smile brighten up even more when I look up to see Winnie walking down with the hood of her jacket over her head, her head pointed downward with her hands stuffed in her pockets.
I begin walking to her, placing my phone in the small chamber of my jeans.

“Hey, Winn. Session ended early today?”

She doesn’t stop and I think she’s even trying to pass by me.

As if she’s avoiding me.

Sometimes I can be over dramatic.

I quicken my pace, placing my hand on her shoulder.

“Winn I-”

She shakes my hand off and my mood shifts almost immediately.

“Winnie.”

Her hands now hold on to the sides of her hoodie as if she wants to make sure the hood doesn’t fall, and I don’t really understand what’s happening.

She doesn’t stop.

“Hey!” I state, beginning to feel concerned.

My feet help me catch up to her and I place my hand on the same place as before but this time I turn her around.
She lowers her hood even more, trying to cover her own face as much as she can as I begin to hear….whimpering.

“Winnie.” I whisper, bringing my free hand up to the top of her hood, hoping she’ll release so I could pull it down and see if she’s possibly injured or anything she’s obviously trying to conceal from me.

“Winnie.” I repeat as she moves her head away, her grip tightening around the loose fabric.
I place my hands on hers, and I feel how they’re shaking.

She finally surrenders, letting me uncover the mystery.

My right hand holds the end of her fingertips as my other raises up to her face. I push a few hairs away from her forehead and I put all my focus on her.
Her cheeks are flushed and soaked, her eyes closed shut from humiliation.

“What happened?” I question, beginning to feel anger grow within me.

“Did that therapist bitch make you cry? Is this her fucking fault?”
She just cries more, and I release her hands as I began stomping myself towards her therapist’s room. Usually the lady would follow Winnie out when she would storm off like this, but no. Not even a sound.

The door is perfectly still as it remains closed.

“I swear to fucki-”

I glance down immediately, seeing how Winnie’s still shaky hand is holding onto mine.

“Winnie, no. I’m not going to just let this go! She made you cry a-”

She doesn’t say a word as I feel her beginning to walk us both hand-in-hand towards the end of the hall.

“You can’t just let her get away with this! She’s not supposed to-”

She finally halts, the many eyes of bystanders staring at us as if we were fucking animals at a zoo and they were fucking tourists from America or some shit, wanting to take as many pictures as they can.

Her sad eyes pierce at me and she just forces this smile that just frustrates me even more, but I remain silent anyway.

She just nods before she turns back around again and we continue heading to our destination.

…

Ever since I bribed the lady at the front desk of the center to give me her parking space at the back, it’s been much faster for us to leave. No paps, no fans, just us.
The car ride was a bit tense, especially since I was still pissed about that fucking prick lady who made Winnie cry.
I think Winnie sensed it since at a red light, I felt her place a napkin on my lap.

‘I’m fine. Don’t worry.’ It said.

My grip just tightened on the steering wheel for a bit. I knew she was lying. I mean how could she get over whatever that lady did to her if it made her cry that much.
Her hands were even fucking shaking.
That bitch.
That fucking bitchy ass bitch.
She was looking out the window the whole time until I decided to play my ipod. She wasn’t beaming about the butterfly that landed on the side view window on her side or explaining the symbolism of the huge puddle in the middle of the road when it hasn’t even rained for a few days. I knew she wasn’t okay and I wanted her to be.

I put on her favorite song, Mystery Train by Elvis hoping to cheer her up a little.

A small chuckle left her lips and I felt myself smile at that.

His whole album began playing, and we were both silent. I didn’t want to take us to lunch since I didn’t think she would want to be at a public place at that moment due to the situation that had just occurred.

So instead I spoke, Are you lonesome tonight playing in the background. It was in the middle of the song, Elvis was speaking that small monologue of his.

“I know things about you. You’ve practically told me everything. But you’ve never really spoken about your childhood.” I noted.

‘I wonder if you’re lonesome tonight’

She didn’t say anything for a while until I felt her place a napkin once again on top of my trousers.

‘I’m not comfortable speaking about it.’ It read.

‘You know someone said that the world’s a stage,’

“Why not?”

‘and each must play a part’

She responded.

‘Why do you have to know everything about me?’

I turned into another lane, trying so hard to keep my eyes on the road.

‘Fate had me playing in love,’

“I don’t have to know. I want to.”

‘you as my sweetheart’

She didn’t say anything or write anything. She just kept on looking at me for some reason, Elvis being the only one that was speaking.

‘Act one was when we met, I loved you at first glance’

I stopped at another red light, about to turn into the curve that lead to the hotel.
I looked at her as well.

‘Why?’ She mouthed.

‘You read your line so cleverly and never missed a cue’

“Maybe I want to know you better than you know yourself.”

I don’t know about her but after she smiled at me, I didn’t pay attention to the rest of the song.
Now we are both at my space, her legs plopping themselves on the couch as she rests her head on one of the cushions behind her.

I grab the room service menu and begin scanning it.

“You want to try the tacos? I remember how you wanted them last time.” I announce, glancing over at her.

She gives me a playful smile, her face now completely dry before shrugging.
I laugh, shrugging back.

“Alright. I’m taking that as a hell yes. How many do you want? Twenty, fifty?”

Her eyes widen and she quickly shakes her head before bursting into a small spurt of laughter.
Her good mood is just contagious and I can’t help but join along, the kitchen guy on the other line probably thinking I’m mad as I try to calm down my laughter.
After he tells me the waiting time to be approximately half an hour, I say thank you and hang up, walking over to her.

“Ah, he must think I’m such a wank now you tosser!” I remark, causing her to shrug again.
I roll my eyes, still smiling widely before I finally sit myself down next to her.

We talk for a bit about my football practice from this morning, and even though Winnie isn’t the sporty kind of girl, she listened. She nodded at everything I said, smiling during a few parts and would always ask me to go on.
Usually people would have gotten bored with me by now since when I talk about football, it’s kind of hard for me to stop. However, she’s different.

Her eyes seem to have been glowing if I was mistaken and she even scooted herself closer and sat up just so she could hear me better.

“Oh shit. You must be quenched! Here I am going on and on about this boring shit an-”

She interrupts me.

‘It’s not boring.’ she mouths.

I swallow hard for some reason and I just chuckle awkwardly.

“Yeah um is there anything you would like to drink?”

Fuck I must look like a friggin moron.

Her smile soon fades and she glances down at her lap, her fingers fiddling with one another.

Did I do something?

‘Beer?’

Her attention is now back on me and I have to ask her to repeat that since I’m not really sure if she said what I think she said.

“You want beer? I mean I have some, but- I mean I also got water and-”

I shut myself up when she nods. She looks quite serious about her decision for some reason and I don’t want to deny her of anything.

“Yeah. Okay. Sure, I’ll get you one.”

I nod one last time before getting myself up, my leg feeling slightly asleep. I’m still sore from practice this morning. Dammit.

“Actually.”

I stop myself midway, turning around.

She's still playing with her hands.

“Why don’t I get one as well? We can both have one together.” I suggest.

‘Okay.’

She doesn’t look any happier from my decision, but I ignore it. I’m just over thinking things too much. She’s probably just tired is all.

When I return with the two cold bottles-one in each hand- I go back to my original place.

With the bottle opener that was on the small table beside me, I pop the two tops open.
The sound startles her as she just gapes at the glass observantly.

“Cheers to us I guess.” I announce, handing her one of the beers and clacking mine with hers.
As I’m about to place the tip in my mouth, I feel one of her hands grab onto my wrist to stop me.
I raise an eyebrow.

‘Don’t’ she tells me.

I lower the bottle to my thigh.

“What do you mean?”

She releases me and places her own bottle on the table that’s next to her, pushing it as far away from her as she can.

What the fuck?

“Winnie, I don’t understand what’s going on.”

She turns back to me.

‘I don’t want you to drink it.’

I look down at the bottle that’s still in my hand briefly before going back to her.

“Why?”

She swallows hard, her eyebrows furrowed.

‘I don’t like beer, Louis. I really do not like beer.’

Even though her words weren’t audible, I still feel as if she whispered it to me. As if her voice
became super soft yet intense all at the same time like a rain cloud.
“Why did you ask me to get beer then?”
I put down the bottle, not really needing a reason, just very curious.

Her blue eyes narrow now.

‘I wanted to tell you something about me.’

My own eyebrows furrow at her words.

She doesn’t like beer.

She doesn’t want me to drink beer.

But why?

Her lips separate and her eyes turn worrisome when she most likely realizes what I’m about to ask.

I open my own mouth, getting ready to speak.

She looks terrified.

“I have an important question to ask you, Winnie.”

She looks even more terrified.

“Do you think the sky is blue because of the amount of oxygen in the air?”

Her mouth closes and she gives me a quick very lost look before her face calms in realization.

‘No. Not at all.’ She replies.

I smile.

“I knew it.”

Her eyes glow again.

Notes