Winnie's POV

The past week has been like a fucking little tease. Every time I came home, I would always see caterers talking to my mum about overpriced finger foods whose names I can't even pronounce, party planners that seem to want to just throw the party themselves, interior decorators since according to my mother substance always comes before style (which I know is a lie since I don't think a couch that feels as hard as cement has any substance at all really), and any other ridiculously expensive party company you can think of.

Those ridiculous Christmas looking lights that have been hung all throughout the patio outside have just been laughing at me with their bitchy and annoying ass laughs, pointing at me while chanting, Just a few more days till the party. A few more days until you have to socialize with all those low life's who think of you as well as every other patient there as 'sick'.
It revolts me. It truly does. Just because they talk to me, it makes them feel as if they did a form of service. As if talking to this mute chic makes them a good person or some shit.

I've been thinking about just pretending to be ill or something. Maybe fake a migraine or some crap, but I remembered how when I was 13 and was actually ill, like I had a stomach ache and all, my mum just brought the guests upstairs. It was despicable. All these people in elegant dresses and Italian suits were all watching a girl dressed in Hello Kitty pajamas barfing into a rusty silver bucket.

I don't want to ever face that tragedy again. Even though I won't be actually sick, I just don't want to be faced with the tragedy of people fake caring. It aggravates me.
Whatever I guess.

When I was ranting to Izzy the other day during our little sleep over, she told me how I should try socializing. How being able to actually walk and roam around somewhere without people staring at your misfortune (hers being cancer), is such a luxury that I should be grateful for.
That shut me up.

Even though I do have a misfortune of my own that people stare at, I didn't say another word (well literally speaking of course. Basically I didn't type anything else in my Ipad is what I mean.)

I promised her I wouldn't rant to anyone else about it, to suck it up for my mum's sake since it does seem to be important to her for some reason.

And I kept my promise.

Well kinda.

Like I mean I still complained, but in my head so I don't think that really counted.
So I guess I did keep it.

But now it's seven at night and I'm just sitting down in one of the clothed tables outside, wearing some black, sleeveless, knee length dress that's covered with pink pastel colored flowers (Gene's) and black heels that make me almost as tall as my dad and that are also very very VERY painful to walk in (Also Gene's).

My Ipad is resting on my lap, hidden under the white table cloth and my phone is resting on the table, my ear buds placed in my ears securely. My elbow is resting on the table, my hand holding my head that is resting lazily upon it, my hair covering half of my face.
People are surrounding me, many actually and I just close my eyes, hoping that if I shut them out they will do the same.

But no. People think that when a person puts in their headphones it means come interrupt me.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and I mentally sigh (yes it has come to the point where I'm so annoyed that my brain even sighs with me).

I hesitantly open my eyes and pause my music, oh how I will miss listening to you Lana.
A sense of relief flourishes when I see the owner of the poke to be my father.

He looks pretty nice in his light blue dress shirt and black trousers. He's almost always wearing that white coat so it's nice to seem him nice.

He offers me a smile that I return.

"How's everything going?" He questions, handing me a plate of crackers and some weird smelling cheese.

I nod in thanks before shrugging, my smile gone.

He takes the empty seat beside me and stuffs a cracker with the orange cheese slice in his mouth. I think its Gouda.

"Haven't heard your voice all night." He speaks and I snort, looking back at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You know what I mean." He adds, smiling a little.
I just shrug again.

"Look."

He turns his head around, pointing around at kids around my age.

"Why don't you go make some friends, they look pretty-"

He stops talking when both of our eyes land on some girl rocking herself back and forth on the floor with her eyes wide and her lips moving, talking to herself.
He takes another bite of his cracker.

"Or make some non friends. Just talk to someone so you won't be alone."
His attention lands back on me and me on him and he just chews two more times before finally swallowing.

I shrug.

"Stop with the shrugging and go make some non friends."

I roll my eyes, trying to hide a smile before grabbing a cracker myself.

Yeah it's Gouda.

"Is your cracker chewing a yes? I don't know how teenagers answer now-a-days."
I take another bite before nodding and he smiles.

"Do you want me to join you? I'm good at starting non friend conversations."

I chuckle a little before shaking my head, already getting out of my seat.

With my Ipad and phone in my hands, I begin walking off from the table.

"Have fun making non friends sweetie!" He yells from behind me and I just close my eyes for a second.

Oh dear Lord.

Sometimes I wonder how the hell my father even became this super intelligent scientist.

Now is one of those times.

My eyes open and my smile soon fades as I realize how crowded this place really is.
One of my ear buds are still in place while the other is dangling, and I quickly look down and decide to press play so I won't feel that nervous.
Why am I so nervous?

I wish Coop were here.

The intro to If you wanna by the Vaccines begins playing and I hold my iPad closer to my chest.

My music seems as if it's merging with that of the smooth Jazz playing around the room and all the words are bundling up in my mind, making me feel even more anxious.
God, it's not the fucking first day of school.

But as my eyes roam for a possible person I can chat with, I begin noticing how everyone is in deep conversation with each other, even my dad who is now talking to two similar dressed men.

Fuck.

Maybe I should just go to the loo or something.
Yeah.

Maybe I can like text Coop or Iz for a while.
Yeah.

As I continue walking, my feet yelling in surrender to the elevated footwear, I begin hearing loud giggling, my mind now focusing on that sound as well and for a while I just try to ignore it, looking down at my feet.

But when I finally give in and notice many people's eyes on me, even the eyes of the other patients, I begin feeling slightly like that girl that's still on the floor.
People are talking about me.
Shit.

I don't want that. I really don't.

I'm sorry izzy, but I can't be here. These people are fucking freaking me out.
I don't like being the center of attention.

I think I'm beginning to feel a little light headed.
Yeah.
I should probably go to my room and stay there the rest of the night.

"Hi."

I feel myself jump, all of my devices falling to the floor, my ear bud falling out from my ear as well.

"Fuck. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

I quickly bend down and I grab everything, examining each of my children for any injuries.
Not even a scratch.

Thank God for life proof cases.

The music is still playing from my headphones rather loudly and I quickly pause the music before standing up, almost falling again.

My balance is not the best.

I feel my shoulders grabbed, keeping me from meeting the floor again and I sigh in relief before looking up.
I mentally groan. (Yes my mind not only sighs but groans too. Isn't that grand.)
It's him.
He's wearing pretty fancy attire if I do say so myself. Well fancy for him.
He didn't even dress this much for the music awards this year. (Gene couldn't stop talking about it when it happened.)

His black blazer with matching pants looks fairly expensive and to me just shows his ego. He probably wanted everyone to know who he is, expecting all of them to want to take a picture with him and ask for his autograph and such.

But he's at the wrong place for that.

All the patients are too self indulged in their own inner misfortunes that they won't even acknowledge him and the adults...well they're adults. I don't really think they care too.

Trust me, I don't really have anything against the guy, but I don't have anything good to say about him either. I only talked to him once and it wasn't really bad, but it wasn't really good.
I guess he's like my non friend.

Take that dad.

I have a non friend.

"Again. Um I'm sorry."

I shake my own conversation out from my head, now looking into his sea blue eyes.
His hands are in his pockets and he looks unsure of what to do.
I shrug.

He chuckles.

"Almost forgot about that." He says, now smiling a little and I just raise an eyebrow.

"You know. The whole shrugging thing."

I shrug again and he rolls his eyes.

"If we're going to talk the rest of the party, I hope I'm not the one that's going to be doing all the talking."

Talk.

The rest of the party.

He's the worst non friend ever.

What is this.

This is breaking the fucking code of non friendship.

He can't just do that.

"Mr. Tomlinson!"

I turn around and Louis just looks forward, both of us looking at a pudgy man walking towards us.

He looks familiar.

I think that's his fucking therapist.

"Come on." I hear him whisper before grabbing my wrist and quickly dragging me away from there.

I'm now holding all of my things in one hand, holding it as tight as I can so it won't fall as this kid continues walking me to what looks like the inside of my house.
I would ask him why in the bloody hell he even approached me in the first place, but you know.

The whole speaking thing doesn't really happen with me.
Cool air instantly hits us as our feet cross the line between hell and sanctuary and I quickly stop, tugging my hand out from his grasp.

Some people are surrounding us, a woman scarfing down rice pudding as if it were Elvis Presley.

I would definitely scarf him down.

You know if he was still breathing.

Louis stops along with me and turns around, eyeing me and looking guilty.

"Sorry. Again. Didn't mean to just grab you like that but my therap-"

I point my index finger up, signaling him to shutup for just a minute before handing him my things and quickly placing my hands on these evil shoes.

I take them off and hum slightly as my feet touch the cold marble floor.
There you go feet. I saved you.

I hold both if the shoes in one hand before looking around quickly for any signs of my mum.
Nope, she's gone.

I look back over at the guy who is looking at me as if he's never seen anything like me in his life and I grab my things back, holding them in my hand with the shoes as well before grabbing his wrist and dragging him.

"What the fu-"

I quickly shake my head and he just closes his mouth, nodding.

I nod back.

If my mum knows I'm going to my room.... And with a boy....

This will surely be my last day.

As we sneak up the stairs, I can practically feel his whole body tense up.

"Where are you taking me?" He mutters, sounding lost.

I ignore him and begin heading towards my room at the end of the hall.

"Are you taking me to your room or something?"

I ignore him again, finally letting go of his wrist and turning the knob to my cave.

I don't hear him run behind me which is a good sign I guess and when I finally enter, I quickly grab his wrist to guide him inside before closing the door.

I turn the light switch on and I feel myself smile a little. Just a little.

Not too much.

"Look. I'm not interested in you in that way. So I think I'm gonna-"

I feel my cheeks redden and I slap the side of his arm.

"What the fuck was that?"

I shake my head, narrowing my eyes at him before dropping the shoes on the floor and throwing my phone and headphones on top of my bed.

I unlock my iPad and begin typing.

'Im not going to fucking rape you.' It reads for me.

I walk over to my closet, pulling off a black hoodie that says you suck in white bold letters from one of the hangers and I put it on over this dress since it's pretty freaking cold in my room.

"Why did you bring me here?"

I grab one of my scrunchies from the top of my nightstand and I put my hair up into a messy bun before sitting myself on my bed in comfort.

I grab my Ipad and type again.

'Bored. Didn't want to be down stairs. You appeared.' It says as I look up at him, his eyes fixated on me.

He walks over to the edge of my bed, sitting himself down.

"Was I just used?"

I shrug, typing again.

'Like an old game at Game Stop.'

He gasps, causing a small smile to form on my lips.

"Well at least you didn't rape me."

'Yeah. Look at the bright side.'

"Even though you are pretty hot if I do say so myself."

'I get that a lot.'

"I bet you do."

We both remain silent, my smile refraining from growing and his fucking evident on his face.

We are the worst non friends ever.

"So tell me."

I raise an eyebrow.

His eyes go around the room for a second before he takes off his jacket, placing it next to him.

"You took all these pictures, yet I don't see any of them. Not one."

He looks back at me, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

I lay my head back against my pillow, placing one leg over the other.
'That's because they're not here.' I type.

He looks around again as if he doesn't believe me.

"Where are they then? Kinda want to see them again."

'So you can make fun of them?'

"Well yeah. What else for?"

I just stare at him and he at me and we even have a little staring contest for a second until I get slight dust in my eye and blink, him smiling in victory.

Cheap shot.

"So tell me." He continues.

My eyes begin to look around my room too as if I don't even believe my self and I type again.

'They're outside somewhere. In soil.'

Silence.

More silence.

Even more silence.

"What the fuck do you mean?"

'I mean what I said. What don't you understand?'

"Are you drunk or something?"

'No. My mum doesn't serve alcohol.'

"Why?"

'Why are you asking so many questions?'

He looks a little annoyed and I know that I must look fucking irritated out of my mind because I am.

I said it once and I'll say it again.
Worst.
Non.
Friend.
Ever.

"Sorry. I just met you. Don't really wanna fight. Already get screamed at enough."

He still remains seated, but this time his back hunches a little, giving him more of this vulnerable side. But I guess he notices since he just as quickly aligns it again.

'Why do you get screamed at?' The device asks for me.

"Cuz."

'Cuz why?'

He smiles a little.

"Why are you asking so many questions?" He repeats my words.

I open my mouth to speak, but then realize my in-capability. Well my promise.
I am capable but I just can't.

'Touché' I write, but my iPad changes it to tooshy because it hates me and he just laughs.

"I told you I'm not interested."

I feel my cheeks redden again and I place my iPad down on my lap before sitting myself up.
I shake my head a little.

'I didn't mean to write that.' I mouth, a soft smile now spreading on his face.
Um okay.

"I like this better." He suddenly says.

I tilt my head a little in confusion.

"I like it when you actually speak instead of using that thing."

He states, talking about my Ipad.

I feel my eyebrows scrunch up together in some sort of confusion and I scoot my body closer to him so I can hear him better.

'But I'm not speaking.' I mouth.

His smile remains.

"But you are."

Notes