Count Of Three, We Run (Justin Bieber)

20. Gee, I'm Sorry

-Usher's POV-

The paparazzi suddenly got loud, and scooter glanced over at me. This only meant one thing. JB was here. The door to the studio swung open and Justin walked, no, stomped to the mirrors. He looked at himself and groaned. He screamed and with his fist, punched the mirror, causing it to break into millions of pieces. Scooter and I just stood there, watching him. And he sat down on top of the broken mirrors and hugged himself. He was crying.

"Justin...?" Scooter spoke up, cautiously.

Does this have to do with Mia? I mean, the way he looks at her clearly shows that he's crazy about her.

"Guys, I wanna shave me head." Justin said, quietly.

Scooter and I both froze. Him? Shaving his head? He LOVED his hair. SOMETHING's wrong. I tried to make this a bit lighter.

"Why? Wanting to become a monk?" I commented.

He looked up and glared at me as he pointed a finger at me. "SO NOW YOU'RE CALLING M-" his mouth suddenly closed and he groaned. "Let's just get to rehearsing."

Is Justin becoming bipolar? Oh Lord... please no.

Throughout the whole rehearsals, it was pretty obvious that Justin's head wasn't in the game. SOMETHING was bothering him. And this SOMETHING was pretty big, or really important. Scooter kept eyeing me, probably thinking the same thing as me. But Justin has his full mind on the dance and song.

It was time for ONE LESS LONELY GIRL, and he couldn't do it. I could tell. His mind was tired more than his body was.

"Okay okay. Break." I called as Justin backed away and almost immediately grabbed his phone and called someone.

He started at himself in the mirror as he waited for whoever he was calling to pick up. He stared down at the mirror he cracked, and walked that way. He started picking up broken pieces. I smiled. There he is: KIDRAUHL.

But then, whoever he called didn't pick up. His face was clouded with fear and worry.

"Whoa whoa whoa... what's up?" I asked him.

"Mia won't pick up." He growled.

I grabbed him phone. "You clean the mess. I'll call her."

"But-"

"No buts."

He groaned and continued picking up the broken mirror. I called Mia and after the 6th ring, she picked up. Actually, someone picked up her phone. It was a guy.

"Hello?" He said.

"Uhh... is this Mia's phone?"

Justin's head snapped up, at the sound of her name.

"Yes it is, how can I help you?" He replied.

"Is-"

I was interrupted by a female voice. A voice that sounded a lot like a sick version Mia. "If it's Justin, tell him I'm okay, okay?"

"Why?" The male replied.

"Milton, PLEASE."

"Why?" 'Milton' asked again.

"He's rehearsing... He should concentrate on that and his Beliebers."

"But you're a belieber, aren't you?"

"Who told you that?"

"Uhh..." Milton suddenly talked to me. "Is this Justin?"

What am I suppose to say? "Just a sec. I'll give him the phone."