I'm Not Sorry: A Justin Bieber Fan Fiction

Seven

♥ the t r u t h ♥

✌

"What happened!" Pattie's exclaim in a questioning tone got me spreading my lips from one ear to the other. As she eyed every corner around the room, her eyes slowly fell onto me, and, probably catching on to what had just happened to me, a wave of relief washed over her face as a smile began dominating her own lips.

Well, let's hope I don't become the boy who cried werewolf. After all, this wasn't a lie and I wasn't trying to freak anyone out―if there's anything to be blamed on at all, blame it on this specific brand called Converse for being so damn perfect.

Slinging his arm casually around my shoulders, Justin fell onto step with me and flashed me a confused look without hesitation, at the same time eyeing the pair of shoes in my hands. "Why are you holding―"

Easy.

"Mom bought me my faves," I sang; leaning into Justin's warmth, meanwhile, entering the land filled with thousands and thousands of Converses. I mean, I practically grew up wearing shoes from this brand, it's became my one love.

"Well," mom decided to interject my lovely daydream, sending it crashing into pieces almost in an instant. "Keep them away, first. Your older pairs have to be worn and torn before you put on all these new ones, got it?" She sternly warned, before returning to keeping the groceries in the different compartments of the refrigerator.

At the correct moment, Pattie gave out a soft giggle like she always does to signal the end of one's conversation before stepping forward to lend Mom a helping hand.

Gathering the bags with gentleness, I quickly pulled them closer toward my chest and cautiously dragged my feet towards the room specially designed to put the shoes that belonged to this family―needless to say there were probably more than two hundred pairs of them in that pretty huge room.

In a way, I'd like to think of it as a walk-in shoe closet, if that makes any sense.

Hearing the shuffling and muffling sounds produced by Justin who was following in tow and chuckling all the way, I decided to switch of all of my senses and become oblivious to him ― or maybe, specifically, I should say the surroundings.

After I'd packed everything tidily; placing my shoes at the correct place in the correct order from the darkest color to the lightest, I snapped myself back into reality and left the room, just so I could go up to mine and cut myself some slack for a bit, before checking on the twins.

"Hey, Justin?" I called out, once the both of us were in my room, on the bed, with the door closed. I mean, I prefer things that way, I feel like my privacy is kept private and not invaded.

"Yeah, babe?" I think I could get used to his stupid nicknames after all.

"Ever since that. . . day," I began squirming slightly due to the uneasiness forming in my chest, having to slowly adapt to viewing little images in my head that day―the incident with Ms. Selena Dumbass Gomez. I cleared my throat. "Happened. . ."

Justin didn't say anything else, and I didn't have the courage to look at him either so I kept my head down; hands to myself; eyes on my lap, but still took it as my cue to carry on speaking anyway. 

"Why have we been getting along better?"

I didn't know how stupid it sounded after those words left my mouth. Like, I can't even begin to elaborate on how stupid it sounded, and not only, but also how stupid I am to actually come up with a topic like this, out of the blue.