Three weeks went by. Three dradful weeks, and I hadn't talked to Justin at all. I didn't know if he was mad at me, or if he just didn't want to talk to me.
So here I was making my way around the back of the hospital, hoping to find him. He hadn't been in his mom's room, so I had been looking for him for the past 30 minutes.
I rounded the corner and found Justin sitting on the curb, his face down, and a beer in his hand
"Justin." I whispered.
He didn't look up; he just sat there as if he hadn't heard me.
"Justin." I called again.
"What?" He hissed.
"Why-"
"Where have you been?" He asked, his voice turning cold.
"I-"
"No. Don't answer that. I've decided I don't want to know."
Justin, please." I whispered.
"Go away." He snapped back.
"Justin, just listen to me." I pleaded.
"No!!!! Go away!!!!" He hissed.
"Justin..." I whispered, the tears springing to my eyes.
This had been what I was afraid of. I didn't want him to hate me. I loved him, more than anything and I didn't want to lose him.
"Go away, Lilly."
