The songs for this chapter are:
-In the Night: The Weekend
-Wake Me Up Inside: Linkin Park & Evanescence (this song though! Please google and listen to it when you have time)
-Hanging By a Moment Here With You: Lifehouse
-What Hurts the Most: Cascada
-Alive: Sia
I haven't updated since last year! *claps hands together like a seal, throws head back, falls out of chair while dies laughing over New Years joke*
Also comment if you think you know where Justin is before he says it :)
Justin's POV
JUNE
"Do you wanna talk about it?" He asks cautiously. His eyes scan my face as if he remembers just exactly what happened the four other times I lashed out just like last night. I think I've already bought him five lamps; but now six because I'll have to replace the lamp I broke last night.
I run my fingers through my hair as my elbows rest on the kitchen counter. His flat is shit, but at least he welcomed me in when I knocked on his door, without any warning a couple months ago.
He has been a kinder man to me than I ever was to him.
"No," I groan, my head is killing me and I can tell my friend is trying his hardest not to push me over. He's been the kind father I never asked for every single night I've come home, lifting me up off his floor, cleaning my busted knuckles and staying with me until I was completely asleep to wash away the nightmares from the night. Some mornings I even found him asleep on the floor at the foot of my bed.
Home. This is not my home though, and the mattress I sleep on, is not my bed. It's temporary, as like the one Selena once slept in, in my home. But the longer I spend away from Tacoma, I'm beginning to think I never belonged there in the first place.
So I did go home.
Ryan sighs lifting his coffee cup to his lips. It's way too early to have a heart to heart with the friend I hadn't seen in ages until a couple months ago, but I can feel it coming. When he pulls his cup away from his lips, I know he is going to start something I will cut off.
I don't know sappy shit with anyone.
Except Selena.
I would fill a bowl a sappy shit for Selena, but not anymore.
It's time to return to my cold self. I don't need her, and she doesn't need me.
I should slap myself at how stupid that sounds, even I know that's not true, I'm just too fucking stubborn.
"Bieber-" he starts and I can't contain myself before I slam my palms on the counter suddenly making him jump and my head erupt in pain. Maybe that wasn't such a great idea, but I can feel the fire burn and delicate taste of hatred sting at the tip of my tongue.
"Butler!" I pry, my hangover pushing me to be extra vicious as I stand up, "I don't want your help, I don't want anyone's help. Let me get worse, let me get beaten in bar fights, let me drink until I can't remember my name! Let me! God dammit, just let me!"
Way to lash out suddenly...
Ryan's eyes are wide and my chest is heaving. His coffee cup is set on the counter and my palms burn against it. His eyes scan mine, while mine scan my knuckles. He leaves the room and I stand there.
Alone.
I don't mind it now, it gives me time to think and I don't care about being left because I realized I'm the one who leaves. I spent my life blaming the world when I'm the one to blame. And here it is, now I realize when I'm thousands of miles away from her, that I shouldn't even have left at all over something so stupid.
But I am human, and that holds me back, the fact that I haven't seen her face since March stops me, and what I did, stops me.
It was an accident, it was, to send that terrible message to her in May. I was drunk and irritated and hurt and she showed up at the wrong time. I still have that message, even though it's now June, and it pains me every time I look at it. It's my own personal kind of self harm because I'm too scared to cut, so I'll torture my mind.
I don't delete it because it reminds me of how terrible I can be, and how terrible I still am.
My fingers are warm against the cool surface of the kitchen counter. It's a nice contrast and I slow my breathing before closing my eyes.
Selena was not the only person I left in Tacoma. I left my dad, my mom, Asher and now... Jaxon and Jazmyn.
The siblings I never knew about. At first it pissed me off, no it made me livid. I couldn't bare the idea of my father have another family, another family in which knew about me, another family in which was in my house on the day of my brothers funeral.
I should have been smarter. I should have seen the signs. When I was not too much younger, my father would always disappear. My mother would smile and reassure me he was just busy working, but the fuck he wasn't. He was busy fucking Erin Wagner.
I googled her shortly after I found out who the hell she was.
I walk down the stairs much slower than I had ran up them, and just as my feet hit the landing a small flash of head full of blonde hair walks right in front of me.
That same little annoying blonde kid from the hospital stands with his eyes wide staring at me as if he has seen a ghost and I can't help but wanting to scream at him. Maybe I am imagining him?
But I am wrong when his shocked expression breaks into a bright smile and he rushes toward me, "Happy Birthday Justin!" his arms wrap around my legs just as a little girl appears around the corner to join us.
What the fuck?
I pry the little blonde kid off my leg, "What are you doing here?"
He smiles, moving his arms around him as he swivels in front of me, "Mommy just wanted to show us our new house."
"Your new house?" I didn't know my house was for sale, I didn't know that potential buyers just walked in without a relator. My head is spinning when the little girl steps toward me, she smiles and that's when I see it.
The smile that both Asher and I had, the smile that mirrors mine on these two little kids faces, and the smile that my father has.
No.
No.
He knew who I was. This kid, from the hospital knew who I was then, and he knows now. This little girl is his sister and she had broken her arm.
My heart beats in my ear and I want to scream. This can't happen today, not when I'm truly losing the only person who I have ever loved. Not today when I can't put two and two together.
But of course I am damned to have all evil return when I'm more shattered than glass.
My body falls backwards as I rest on the last step of the stairs my head falling forward to hide in my arms. I don't want to take this, I don't want to hate my father more than I have, but how can I not?
He pays people to be friends with me, he slept with Nichole and now I know he's had a secret family.
I can feel myself wanting to burst, and attack like a predator, but I begin to melt, and the lump in my throat makes it impossible to swallow. My knees tuck against my chest as I swallow my pain. I can feel their eyes on me but I don't care.
It's not until I hear another voice I've never heard before, and a hand on my shoulder do I snap my head up.
Her eyes were the first thing I noticed and how much kindness they held, but I'm the wrong person for kindness.
"Justin, sweetheart are you okay?"
"Get the fuck away from me." I push her outstretched hand away and she stands up to her full height.
She nods and turns around to face the young kids, "Jaxon, Jazmyn go to the kitchen I'll be there in a minute." Both their eyes shift to mine and I want to flip them off. Don't fucking look at me, I don't give a fuck about you. You weren't suppose to happen and if my father had any respect for women, you wouldn't be here.
But my mouth stays shut as I watch them leave and the second they do I push past their mother.
"You must be insane to bring them here!" I tell her, I make no notice of how loud my voice is. I know they can hear me from the kitchen but I really don't care. She opens her mouth slightly in awe as I continue.
My arms go flying up around me as I nearly trip over my own feet. My clumsiness enrages me, "Get the fuck out of my house!" I scream so loud she jumps, "Get the fuck out now!" My heart thumps like a drum and I can almost hear the voices of my demons rushing around me urging me to let the fire out.
My shoulders heave and she is running her hands up and down her arms, I don't even know her name but I instantly hate her. She is also someone I pity. She must know about my mother if she knows about me, but she doesn't know about my terrible father. I bet she doesn't care, I bet he has become so good at lying he can't he even tell anymore.
I bet he doesn't even care that Asher is dead.
With the thought of my brother lying cold and alone as my father pretends to love him, it pushes me to scream again as I drive my fist into the wall.
When the wood splits from the first blow the sound makes me smile. The pain is like I drug and I need it again and again.
I hear her rush toward me, I hear little footsteps running from the kitchen and I feel her arms wrap around my shoulders, trying to pull me away from the wall.
Blood streams from my knuckles and down the busted wall in front of me. Tears run down my cheeks as I spin around to shove, roughly whoever has tried to stop me.
It takes me too long to realize who it is but when she falls down, does my breathing stop.
The little girl, rushes toward her mother her arms wrapping around her shoulders, "Mommy," she cries, "are you okay?"
Jaxon is at my side, reaching up to lace his fingers through my belt loop. I don't pull away this time, I don't help their mother up, I don't move.
What have I done?
I am frozen as the woman in front of me pushes herself up and stares me in the eyes. She has no fear, as she should when she speaks, "My name is Erin Wagner, and I have been waiting a long time to meet you Justin Bieber." She mover her eyes over my fading bruises on my face, "You look so much like your father," she whispers.
I shake my head, my voice suddenly coming out in a whisper, "Looks are the only thing we have in common."
Erin laughs, "What you did then, was more like him than anything I've ever seen."
Why is she laughing at me? Didn't I hurt her? Doesn't she hate me?
Jaxon stands silent beside me as his mother lifts my hands to examine them. No one has ever really touched my hands except for Selena, but for some reason I let this woman, I watch her sigh at my split open knuckles and the way she gently let's them fall back at my side.
The air is gone when she whispers as if she knows me, as if she looks straight into my soul and understands more than I do, "I hope when you run, you return."
But I won't be coming back.
I don't love Canada the way I used too. I have grown so used to Tacoma that sometimes when I wake up it feels as if I am still there. I guess it feels like that because I didn't tell anyone I was leaving.
Well, all except one.
The person I told, surprised me more than him. The night after I rescued Selena from his home when she was drunk, I saved his number. It was stupid at the time but now I'm glad I did.
I can still remember how shocked he was when I called him.
"Hello?" He sounds as if I have just woken him up in the middle of the night, because in fact I have. It's four in the morning and my flight is boarding soon.
"Wake up, I need to talk to you." I cross my arms even though he can't see me. A few people turn in my direction at my loud voice, but they turn around again when I flip them off.
He yawns, "I never thought you would call me for advice on how to get Selena not too hate you."
What? Why does everyone always assume that shit?
I switch my phone to the other ear, my words coming out with a growl, "She. Doesn't. Hate. Me."
Chase laughs, "What do you want Justin?"
I pull my hood up further around my head as I make sure no one is listening. It doesn't matter if anyone is, but I feel the need to be cautious.
"I bought a one-way airplane ticket." I whisper holding my breath at the silence that follows. I even take my phone away from ear to make sure I didn't accidentally lose connection.
Suddenly he speaks, with that freaking accent I despise, he sounds much more frantic this time, "You bought a one-way airplane ticket?" He asks, his voice higher and squeaker than I remember. To say the least, if he wasn't always there for Selena, I would hate his guts.
I clutch my cell phone tighter in my hand before switching it to my other ear, "Yeah, I just said that."
Nichole's younger brother sighs, "Does Selena know?"
"Do you think I would be calling you, if she knew?" I spit out, hoping the ding-dong on the other line was the right person to call after all.
"No." he pauses, both us silent for a moment, before I hear him move something around, "Where are you running off to?"
There is humor behind his words but I choose to ignore it. His concern or worry for me doesn't phase me. I know most people don't give a shit about me anyway so why should I worry if I'm leaving anyone behind?
But I am.
Her.
The light of my life, the angel to my demons and the blood that my heart needs to keep pumping. But I have made the decision to leave her, and for some odd reason, I'm okay with that.
For some odd reason, when I realized I needed to leave everything I have known and start fresh, she wasn't a thought. I have been selfish, but also giving because I know that when I disappear for real she will break but then put herself together again stronger than ever before.
In ways, that is what I have always been hoping would happen to her. We all have a first love who will break us, and make us afraid to love the next, but our first love sculpts us into the kind of person we were meant to be and the kind of people we will find we want to spend the rest of our lives with.
We all spend our lives trying to grow to be as wise as we feel necessary, but in truth, no one knows anything more than the next. When we are all dead; will be truly be smart.
People manuever all around me, each headed in their own directions. They all have suitcases and I have nothing. I don't even think I'm taking my soul.
"No where you need to know," I want to laugh at how silly I sound. Who would have guessed I would be here today?
He sighs and I can picture the boy, standing in his house, placing a hand to his forehead, "When will you be back?" He asks.
My eyes widen as my breath hitches in my throat. I send chills down my own spine as I quickly hang up the phone and step back. Erin Wagner's voice plays in my mind as I speak.
"I'm not coming back," I whisper to no one.
****
I left Ryan's flat. With no money in my pocket and I'm not even truly sure where my wallet is. I figured I wouldn't need the money since the lady behind the bar is so keen on making my drinks 'on the house'.
At first, she pitied me, but now I'm certain she likes watching me gulp down everything except my memories. She doesn't seem to like to be discreet, because every time I glare she giggles and goes back to drying shot glasses. I can tell she's either never had her heart broken, or is a lesbian.
But either way, she's not that bad to look at. She's young and maybe I'm misjudging her the way I hate being misjudged.
Funny, isn't that. We hate to be judged by others but we are always judging them.
The whole drive to the bar, I'm not sure how many red lights I stopped at or how many people I saw walking down the street because I wasn't focused on anything in particular except awaiting the burn of scotch running down my throat at noon.
Why do I feel like a ghost? My whole world feels like a dream and I constantly feel like I've been there, I've done that. I've seen the same faces and heard the same voices but they aren't a routine, they are apart of me.
I hear Selena speaking when there's no one around, I see her in the spirit of the young woman with three children a couple doors down from Ryan's flat, I taste her on the tip of my tongue when the alcohol is all good and gone and I live her in this life she has never seen of mine.
Just like I'd hoped, not too many people are here in the bar at noon waiting to waste themselves on a beverage made for the weak, but I am. Pumped actually. My hangover screams to be put to rest but my tongue wants something else. It wants the burn of alcohol, it's wants the judgement I spent thinking about gone, it wants to watch me destroy everything she made me become.
I make my way over to counter, slumping over and immediately the bar tender makes her way toward me.
"The usual?" She asks, her voice too loud for my liking and her perfume to strong for me to handle.
I rest my elbows on the wood countertop to drum my fingers against it, "Yep."
She nods before spinning around to prepare the drink I can't even remember the name of but its strong enough to knock me out after I destroy my friends flat another time.
The sweatshirt I've worn for the last couple of days feels scratchy against my skin and I desperately need to shower but I honestly have no will. I'd rather sit here alone and stare into the liquid of my drink.
The bartender turns around to slid the drink over the countertop in front of me. Immediately my fingers reach out to lace themselves around the cool surface of the glass. Ice clinks together as I raise the liquid to my lips. She watches my every move and when the familiar taste fills my mouth I sigh in content.
My head burns, but it's just my head, the pain in my heart is far greater.
"This is the earliest you've ever come here." My eyes raise to meet hers. She hasn't moved from when she handed me my drink. In fact she's leaning on the wall behind her, arms crossed and eyes on me.
I clench my drink tighter, slouching further forwards, "Please don't talk to me."
She smiles, "But there's no one else to talk to."
I don't care.
"Go talk to those guys over there." I turn my head to glance at the old, slimy looking men sitting a couple bar stools down from me. She follows my gaze and her smile falters.
"All they do is stare at my boobs." She shakes her head and turns her attention back to me. Great.
I roll my eyes, lifting my drink to my lips again, "What boobs?"
This time her eyes narrow and she leans forward to rest her elbows on the counter, her face not too far than mine. Her perfume encloses around us and for a second I think she is going to kiss me.
"You're an asshole," she tells me as if don't already know. I simply shrug and she pulls away from me, grabbing my drink out of my hand.
What the hell?
"Give me my drink back."
"No."
I narrow my eyes now, "Yes."
"No." She laughs almost making me want to laugh. What the heck am I doing? Fighting with the bartender to give me my glass back? That's a new one.
I shrug, "Fine, keep it. You won't make me pay for it anyway."
"Probably not." I'm surprised when she turns around to refill my glass and slide it back to me. I raise a brow at the drink and she points at it, "It's five o'clock somewhere."
Okay?
Our eyes hold as I reach for the drink again and take a sip. More like a gulp, but I'd like to say I'm not that desperate. My eyes close as I tilt my head back. I can already feel myself slipping away and my feet feel heavy and my shoulders feel light.
She isn't standing in front of me anymore when I open my eyes and I'm completely okay with that. As sweet as she is, I don't like her at all. She's pushy and strange, she doesn't fit in and I'm weirded out by that factor.
But for some reason I find myself wanting to watch her today. The way she moves around quickly putting together drinks and making small talk with old perverts who do actually stare at her chest, somehow fascinates me today. It's probably because I'm on my way to being drunk already, but whatever the reason, she's here for me to watch.
I've finished my glass for the second time when she returns. I push my empty glass toward her but she shakes her head, pointing at my wrist.
"Why so many tattoos?" She suddenly asks trying to reach out and touch my arms where my sweatshirt has exposed what I have hidden. I pull away surprisingly quick due to my impairment, but I feel violated suddenly. No one is allowed to touch me. No one but Selena. No one.
"Don't ask me questions."
She bits the inside of her cheek, "Then pay straight up for all the drinks you've had."
Fuck.
I roll my eyes, leaning back on the uncomfortable barstool deciding on what I should do. She waits patiently for my answer with her arms crossed.
Finally, I give in, "Each one tells a story."
"Why not just tell your stories?" she asks, her big round eyes urging me to continue and open up as if I am one of her clients in a therapy session.
I want to run and hide behind Selena because I know she would quickly change the subject, but she's not here, so I have to stand tall for myself.
This lady asks as if it is the easiest thing in the world, but the look on her face makes me want to scream, because it's not easy, it's hard, really fucking hard.
"I'm not allowed to speak." I tug the sleeves of my sweatshirt further down to forever hide the scars I have covered with tattoos.
She nods as if she understands, but I know she never will, and just as she is about to leave me alone, I find words from my drunken lips rolling out of my mouth.
I lean forward to rest my chin on my hands as I stare up at her, "I used to say - I tried to convince myself, that the purpose behind all my tattoos comes from the secrets I have kept and the stories I have lived."
Her brows are raised because I don't think she expected me to speak or let alone know how to say that many words.
"And now?" She asks.
"But now, as I look at the ink, I realize every one was pointless. Absolutely pointless. I didn't stain my body in black because I thought I was telling my story, I did it for the enjoyment and utter amusement that comes along with idiocy."
"The best of us are stupid." She tells me, her fingers ghosting over the same necklace I have seen her wear every day and night. I watch her actions before shaking my head, I don't agree.
"I think we are all," I furrow my brow, "how do you say it? Um, more than fucked up, but if you put it into fairytale terms; I'm a king, but for all intensive purposes, I sit on a throne, surrounded by red and overrun by pain."
Her lips curl into small smile as she moves her eyes down to stare at her feet for a moment.
"Is this what you do when your drunk?" She points at me, "Say clever things that make no sense."
Sure?
"I guess." I shrug, "I liked to used to think I was good with words because I was good with lyrics."
Her eyes widen, "You're a song writer?"
"No," I sigh, "but I used to be."
"You can't 'used to be something', and now you're not," her arms unfold and she leans forward to rest on her elbows on the counter between us, "You always have been and always will be." She smiles again, "Wake up little boy."
Little boy?
Who does she think she's talking to?
"Who do you think you are to call me a little boy?" My head still hasn't moved from where it rests on my hand, but my mood has. I've flipped a switch and someone better be drunk enough to start a bar fight with later on tonight.
I need the rush of adrenaline, I need the cries of a man who was stupid to mess with me, I need-
"Alec Baldwin's niece." She purses her lips at me and turns around to grab a rag.
What the fuck is she saying?
"Who?"
She shakes her head slightly, "I said I'm Alec Baldwin's niece."
Ha, of course you are sweetheart.
I snort, "If you're Alec Baldwin's niece than I'm a famous singer."
"And you drive the girls insane," she giggles sarcasm clear in her voice and I smile back.
"You know it," I'm back to feeling airy and light. She is still smiling at me when I speak again, "What's your name?"
"It's written on my name tag." She rolls her eyes at my question and I rub my eyes.
"I'm too drunk to read that shit."
She nods, setting down the wet rag to reach her hand out to me, "I'm Hailey."
I take her hand, "Justin."
"Well Justin," she begins, "What made you end up drinking every day of your life away?"
I glance around the bar, trying to catch onto the near silent music playing in the background but I can't make out what song it is.
My shoulders move for me and words tumble out of my mouth, "A girl."
Hailey bites the inside of her cheek again and I notice how nice her hair looks pulled back into two braids. Maybe she could braid my hair like that one day.
Wait, what?
Get a grip, man.
I blink a couple times to rid the thought but it doesn't go away. My mind is suddenly filled with the blonde bartender in front of me who clearly isn't Canadian and I can't figure out why she has this job in the first place. Perhaps another story for another time.
I almost don't notice that she has handed me a bottle of beer, until she waves her hand in front of my face.
Hailey smiles, lifting her own beer bottle to clink against mine, "Then she must be the beauty behind your madness."
AN: Hey guys!! I hope you had an amazing Christmas and New Years! Happy 2016!!! I brought in a couple new characters if you all don't mind. I mean how could I not bring in Hailey Baldwin now?! Don't hate me. I've got a ton of stuff planned still to tie up lose ends and prepare you guys for the end. Take Me 2 is almost over....
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