Silent Laughter (Louis Tomlinson Fan-Fic) Book 3

Part eighteen [Part 1]

A/N: Separating this into two parts because it's pretty long :p

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I tried.

For four embarrassing days I tried speaking to him.

That text was the last thing he said to me for the rest of the week.

I sent him message by message, text by text, wanting to see at least a hint of his face to know that he's there. I wanted him to know that as his friend, I was here for him and that I wouldn't judge him for anything.

However, he never answered.

However, he wouldn't open his door to me.

However....he's gone now.

Probably at some lavish hotel with the others, getting ready to perform at some enormous stadium of the sort while I'm here at the ward with my eyes closed as I listen to music that people consider to be noise.

I probably fit that stereotypical image of a teenager. You know the one where the adolescent is trying to block out the world by leaving their headphones in, hating  everything as their arms are crossed and feeling misunderstood yet not wanting anyone to understand them since they want to also be unique.That image where their face looks unamused and unpleasant with their hair that looks to be untamed, their nose pointing up to exaggerate the independence they think they have, their forced self confidence causing them to lack intimidation.

That's what everyone perceives me to be at the moment, but I'm actually the opposite.

I do not hate the world at the moment, I am merely confused by it and just plain lost with the creatures that live within it.

Especially with the short, narcissistic, blue-eyed one known as Louis Tomlinson.

My foot continues tapping out of boredom and I begin to regret rejecting Coop's offer to drive me here.

I walked by myself, using my long board from time to time when I wanted to cross the streets faster. I didn't want him to come with me. I knew he would ask me questions about why I wouldn't be speaking to him or ask if Louis answered yet and I don't really want that now.

He just had to go and break my low expectations of him.

He had to prove me fucking wrong and make me feel like a complete dumbass.

Why couldn't he be that total dickhead he's said to be in the media?

Why couldn't he just have stayed home that day of the party and never approach me?

My eyes open to a moderate narrow and I glance in front of me at his bench.

His name is not engraved on the damn thing and I know he does not own it, but to me that is his bench.

He sat there and would always look at me or have a smoke or point out something different that happened to him that day and ask for my opinion like the good hearted douche he is.

Damn it.

I know we've only known each other for two fucking months but why couldn't he at least have said a goodbye?

Even just a simple text like, Good-bye or even a less lengthy one like Bye would have sufficed, but nothing.

I guess I sort of understand since he did get into a fight. Maybe he physically can't talk because he got punched in the lip or something and it hurts to speak. Or maybe he didn't want me to see him because he didn't want me to see his injured face, thinking it looked hideous or something.