Lifeless (Sequel to Soulless - Justin Bieber Love Story / Fan Fiction)

FIFTEEN

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his thumb stroking my side. "for what she said. It's not true, okay? Nothing she said is true."

It took a moment, but I nodded. My back pressed up against him made me feel so safe. Nothing could hurt me. Nothing could touch me. I was secure again. I was okay.

"Do you believe me?" he asked in a low voice, the side of his head still resting comfortably over the top of my own.

No.

Just as I was about to nod my head, Justin released me only slightly and took hold of my hips to turn me to face him. If I thought I was safe before, I was invincible then. His expression was so concerned and empathetic towards me, and I could honestly say I had never felt more cared about in my life than I did in that exact moment. The way he looked at me was exactly how it used to be— so soft and inviting.

"Do you?" he asked, his eyes falling to my lips before moving back up to my gaze again. His hands were so strong on my waist. I could have died that way, and it would have been totally fine.

Swallowing, I looked down at the green and white checkered hand towel in my hands, Justin's stare still not leaving mine. The desire to let every thought and feeling to him about anything and everything that accumulated in my mind over the last four years crashed over me like a wave. My stomach lurched forward, and I knew it was time to finally speak up.

"We should talk," the words nearly slipped out of my mouth without warning.

Even though I was terrified, I knew something had to be done. Otherwise, we both would have been driven to complete madness. Whether we talked about the journal or the fact that we could never be anything again or what Kayla said, it didn't matter. Some of the stress needed to be relieved from the situation.

We really just needed to talk. Really talk.

"What's the matter?" he asked. When I looked up at him, his eyebrows relaxed. Though it took him only a moment, he realized soon what I was referring to. And to my dismay, he slowly let go of me. Suddenly, I didn't feel so safe anymore. "Oh," he exhaled, then nodded. "Okay."

As I drew in a breath to really start the conversation that I had dodged for four years, Justin surprised me by wrapping his fingers around my own. He began leading me away from the kitchen, then up the staircase.

Oh, his hands. I'll never forget the way they feel around mine, or the way they feel when they run over me. I can never forget.

We made it to his bedroom, which looked nothing like I dreamt it did. Other than it being fairly minimalistic, it wasn't gray at all. It was beige and brown. That got me wondering about how many things would be different than my dream.

Our hands parted, and he sat down on the edge of his bed. I stood before him, watching him take his phone out of his pocket and put it face down on the bed so that there would be absolutely no interruptions. My heart melted over the compassion and sensitivity he possessed for me. I knew I'd never find someone like him.

"I just want to say that I'm sorry," I began, still standing before him. I didn't want to sit until I knew that I had said everything I wanted to say. "I never officially apologized for what I did to you four years ago, not that it really matters now. It doesn't cancel out what I did to you. Just please know that I never meant to hurt you, and it was just some stupid way to document my feelings. It was wrong though, and I know that. I pay for it everyday that you're not in my life. I think that if I never did that, things would be much different than they are now," I went on, unable to discard the thought of how much happier I would have been with him in my life. Not only that, but maybe I wouldn't have been such an unkempt tramp.