Imagine Book 2

Another Chance- Justin Foley (13 Reasons Why)

Fem Y/N

𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐

All characters are 18 years of age or older!

Justin Foley had been rehearsing his words for weeks. Months, actually. Each time he stood in front of the mirror, tried to piece together the perfect combination of regret and hope, his voice cracked under the weight of the emotions. But now, standing on the cracked sidewalk in front of Y/N's house, those rehearsals seemed laughably inadequate.

The late autumn breeze nipped at his neck, but he hardly noticed. All he could focus on was the warm light spilling from her living room window and the faint silhouette of her moving inside. Every fibre of his being screamed at him to turn around, to leave this part of his past untouched. But he wasn't the man he used to be. Not anymore. And if he didn't at least try, he'd regret it forever.

With a deep breath, he stepped up to the door and knocked, his knuckles trembling against the wood.

The door opened, and there she was.

Y/N looked... different. More mature, maybe. Her hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, and her eyes carried a softness that hadn't been there the last time they'd seen each other—a softness he had envied, even hated in his worst moments. She froze in the doorway, her expression shifting from surprise to confusion, and finally, something unreadable.

"Justin," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Hey, Y/N," he said, his throat dry. "Can I... can I come in?"

She hesitated, her hand gripping the edge of the door. He couldn't blame her. After everything he'd put her through, after all the broken promises and nights she spent picking up the pieces he'd left behind, she had every right to slam the door in his face.

But she didn't.

"Yeah," she said finally, stepping aside. "Come in."

The warmth of her house enveloped him immediately, a stark contrast to the chill outside. He stood awkwardly in the entryway, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket as his eyes flickered around the familiar space. It hadn't changed much—same cosy couch, same mismatched throw pillows. The scent of vanilla lingered in the air, a comforting reminder of the nights they'd spent curled up together, back when everything was simpler.

"I wasn't expecting to see you," Y/N said, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. Her tone was careful, guarded.

Justin nodded, shifting his weight. "I figured as much. I, uh... I know it's been a while."

"Two years," she said bluntly.

Two years. God, had it really been that long? It felt like a lifetime and a heartbeat all at once. "Yeah. Two years."

Silence stretched between them, heavy and awkward. Justin cleared his throat. "Look, I know I'm probably the last person you want to see, but... I needed to talk to you."

Her eyebrows lifted slightly, but she didn't interrupt.

"I've been clean for a year and a half now," he said, the words tumbling out before he lost his nerve. "I went to rehab, got a sponsor, started going to meetings. I—I'm not the same guy I was back then, Y/N. I swear."

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, he thought he saw the beginnings of a smile on her lips. But then her expression hardened again, her arms tightening around herself.

"Justin, that's... that's great. Really, it is. But why are you telling me this now?"

He took a step closer, his voice thick with emotion. "Because you were the reason I wanted to get better."