Silent Laughter (Louis Tomlinson Fan-Fic) Book 3

Part thirty-six

A/N: Please read the chapter before if you haven't or else you will be like super confused XD haha. Enjoy! 

WARNING: INTENSE CHAPTER. Speaks of self loathing and dark thoughts so be cautious. If you get triggered easily, message me and I'll tell you in a summary what happened. 

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I haven't been in this room for months, maybe even a few years actually. It's dusty everywhere, the feel of the thick cloud-like particles covering my fingertips as they land themselves on the floor, My head tilting back against the door behind me with my eyes just roaming around. I feel this cough in the middle of my throat along with a tickle in my nose as I continue to sniffle. It's been a few minutes now since I've learned how to breathe normally again. My face is soaked and my eyes feel sort of tired like the rest of my limbs and my chest.  

Louis is still on the other side. He hasn't moved from his spot. I can hear the whispered curses leaving his lips through the gap of the door. I know I must be troubling him, that I'm making everything about myself in a way and I don't want to, but this is just what my mind does. It conceals me in this thick force field of negativity, pushing anyone who tries to break through it away and it fucking sucks. However, I haven't learned how to control it. It's sadly not a superpower that I have mastered yet and I feel that it's a defense mechanism that's destroying me slowly. 

I continue looking around the room and I sort of just remain frozen in place as if I were paralyzed or something. This is Gene's room. This is the room that hasn't been touched in so long, just being there for anyone to grab. Being in here, period, is making me feel this impactful sense of lonliness and makes my heartbeat slow down. This must be how, Gene feels all the time. With the light bulb on the ceiling flickering on and off between light and darkness constantly, this makes me feel even worse and I don't want that. I need reassurance from someone, anyone. I know, Louis is out there, most likely worried since that's just the type of person he is, one that cares. However, I can't bring myself to talk to him about this. I have been already destructive enough and he himself has enough bombs exploding around him in his stressful life, I don't want to just blow up. I don't want to hurt him.

He deserves someone that won't have this much baggage, one that can leave whenever they please, one that's like confident and kind like one of those tall models, one that can actually speak, one that can say I love you back. 

But, I'm too far gone already. I'm too involved already. He's apart of my routine; he's apart of my life and I don't know if I can bare to lose him. Not now anyway, maybe not ever. 

I take a deep breath and immediately cough, some of the dust having gotten in my throat. My eyes seem to be tearing up again and I suck it back in, my hand lifting up to my lap with the picture now back in my grasp. I stare at his face, at that look that just deserves its own fucking dictionary since it has so much more than one meaning to it. I don't know what it is about him, why I feel this intensity that is so strong yet different from the way I feel about Coop or Izzy or for my parents or for anyone. It's like my mind is just repeating, he is it, and I can't pin point what that means exactly. I want to be selfish, I want to say something to him, but I can't. If we were to be together, there will be days where I don't want to do anything, where I can't stop staring at the picture of my aunt that's within the drawer of my nightstand, where I can't find enough strength to even smile, and that's not fair to him. It's too much of a burden; I'm too much of a burden. 

I'm not normal.

It wouldn't be a cheesy love at first sight kind of romance between us. It would be hard. We could be holding hands one day as we walk down the sidewalk on a sunny afternoon and some days I'll see both of our shadows and then other days I won't, there will only be his. God, I won't be able to even fucking call him and tell him I think he did a great job in a performance or that I miss him or that I love him. It would all be letters and letters but no fucking words.