Never Let You Go - A Justin Bieber Love Story.

Chapter 39.

1 DAY LATER

Justin's POV:

The hospital door of room 207 bombarded open, the sound of shoes slapping and gum chewing filling the once silent room where the pulse of her heartbeat was the only symphony.

"Lookin' gorgeous as always, J." Lesly jolted into the plush seat next to me, slamming her black leather bag onto the floor with a whack.

"You're funny," I replied, sarcasm eating away my tone.

"No, really, J. I'm loving the whole bags-under-the-eyes look you got goin' on. It really suits you." She flashed me a smile that I returned without thought.

Lesly was like that-Lesly had always been like that. Always the one to crack the jokes, to enlighten the moment where everything seemed at rock bottom. And I liked that, I needed that, more so than ever.

"So tell me, pop star, how many hours have you slept this week?" She questioned, looking over at her best friend that sprawled over the mattress.

I shrugged aimlessly, though I knew the answer, "I dunno."

"I don't like being lied too. And I cannot believe for one second that you'd actually lie to me. I mean, c'mon, I thought we were besties!" She crossed her fingers, symbolizing our friendship.

And we were best friends, we were all best friends, at one point.

"We are, Lesly." I stated.

"Then tell me how many hours you've slept this week." She turned towards me, her legs crossed and her arms steadily placed across her chest.

"Two hours," I said avoiding her eyes.

"Well, you sure are living the rock star life, eh? Not getting any sleep."

"Do you even care?" I snapped, my eyes piercing into hers.

"What?" She said confusedly, knitting her eyebrows together.

"Your best friend is in a coma, and you act like it's not even happening!" I shouted, slamming my fists onto the arm rests of the chair. "Do you even care, Lesly? Or is this all a big joke to you? You know, I don't believe she's going to wake up, you know that?"

She immediately grabbed my fists from the arm rests, the blood circulating again between my fingers and hand.

"I care, J. I really, really do. I stay up at night, thinking about that day, and I wonder if I could've stopped it, prevented it from happening. Like maybe, if I had controlled myself, she wouldn't be in that hospital bed. And you know, if she never wakes up, I'll always have that burden, that wonderment in the back of my mind wherever I go." She breathed, sitting straight up while her hands fidgeted in her lap.

"It wasn't your fau-"

"Don't say it, J, please don't say it. No matter how many times people will say that to me, it'll never make me feel any better. Because there will always be apart of me that feels it is my fault that my best friend has been in a coma for two months." Her blonde hair made a curtain of vulnerably around her, her brown mocha eyes being hidden.

"Lesly?" I asked, my throat tightening at the thought of the question.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think she's going to wake up?" I whispered, inaudibly, but loud enough for her to hear.

"No," she answered truthfully, "I don't."

And finally, after two months-the realization set in. Finally, the words that seemed like a sin on the tip of my tongue had been said out loud and released into the world.