Justin Bieber/Jason McCann Imagines | Book One

Grey

The sky is a dark grey, causing shadows even in the lightest of places. It's not necessarily because there's bad weather; it's always this way. It's almost like the sun is no longer existing, like it gradually decided that this sad excuse of a planet wasn't worth it's time.

People walk at a reasonable pace, all wearing black suits or black dresses. They style their hair in a certain way in the morning, not because it's how they like, but because they know they're not going to get any respect if they show up to work looking like they'd got out bed five minutes ago. Each face is empty, almost lifeless.

I'm the same, of course. My hair is forced out of my face every morning, shining due to the gel. I rise out of bed every morning and take the time to make sure I'm looking presentable; ensuring my suit is ironed and my shoes are shining. I eat cereal - the same one added to the breakfast table in every house all over the world each morning - full of fibre with no exciting taste. I don't like it or hate it.

The long drone of the alarm buzzes through the building, and I don't hesitate to the lean over and reach into the top drawer of my desk. I keep nothing in there besides papers compulsory for me to do my job. I grab the small gun that sits in the middle and feel the roughness of the plastic underneath my fingers. (The government had to create billions, do you really think they'd use anything that'd cost them more money?) I already know there's four doses ready to be used because I made sure to reload this morning.

All around me, men and women are doing the same as I. As though it's recited, we all raise the gun to our necks and pull the trigger, still sat behind our desks. The skin surrounding the end of the gun is opened and allows the blue liquid to seep into our system. To describe how it feels would be impossible; the whole purpose of the dose is to take away any feelings or any emotion that threaten to surface.

The room falls silent when the alarm stops ringing and everyone has shut the drawer of their desk. I sit up straight, feeling refreshed. Just as before, there's the constant sound of typing and clicking from each desk around me.

"Bieber," I hear the rough voice that I'm aware belongs to my boss as he comes striding along from behind me, I can hear his shoes meeting the floor as he walks purposefully. "Have you taken your dose?"

"Of course, sir," I reply and stare ahead. There's no movement in my face - my nose doesn't twitch, my lip doesn't threaten to curl up into a smile - while my boss' hands press against my desk.

"There's a woman just been brought in, mind doing the honours?" he asks and when I've had enough of his stare burning holes into my face, I shift my gaze from the multiple backs of heads in front of me to look at him.

His hair, just like mine, is swept back and kept in place with gel, although his hair is a lot darker than my own, apart from the grey strands beginning to show. He has a crooked nose that gives me the feeling he's going to poke my eye out with it if he gets any closer. He's showing his age with the crow's feet and wrinkles that are starting to layer over his skin, and not to mention his ashen skin that makes me wonder whether he's ill or simply tired.

"Of course, sir," I nod before rising from my desk. "What's she here for?"
I'm walking by his side now - I'm only just taller than him - and we must look almost identical, I think.

"What do you think?" He doesn't give me time to compose an answer. "Sense Offence."

I don't say anything in response but carry on walking, knowing the exact moment my boss will turn off onto a different route as he aims for his office. When he does, he takes the awkwardness from the conversation with him and I feel as though I'm able to breathe again.

There's a door at the end of the hallway. It's grey paint glitters under the blazing lights. As I'm marching towards it, it opens and one of the other men appears dressed in the same suit as me. He catches sight of me and does a subtle head nod in my direction, I return it before swiftly sliding into the room and closing the door.