sorry // justin bieber

41.- old times

Justin

I look at the contact on my phone and hesitate for a few minutes. Should I call or not?

I want to. I know I want to, but once I press that button there is no way back, once I start this conversation all my cards are on the table. And I'm not sure the other side of it wants to play.

I do what I always do: ask myself what's the worst that can happen?

Would it be the worst to find out someone else hates me? Maybe it's not hate after all, it could always be just... disgust.

Stop being a chicken and start taking control, I say to myself, while touching the screen with my finger.

I'm calling. I hear about five beeps until I politely get told to fuck off by the voice mail. I hang up, I don't want to leave a stupid voice mail, I want to talk.

A few minutes later I try again. I call the number that I think it will work and wait. This time I hear three beeps before the voice mail.

Me: can you please answer me?

The third time there's not even time for the beeps. A voice in the other hand answers me right away.

"What do you want?"

"Hi, Ryan" I answer.

"What do you want, Justin?" the voice of my friend repeats his question.

"Just talk to you"

"Why?" he questions, suspicious in his voice.

"I miss my friend" I confess.

"So you've realized you were a jerk to me?" he blurts out.

"Yes" I say, taking a pause to think. "Would you meet with me? I know you're in Los Angeles at the moment"

"I'm busy"

"Come on" I plead and I know I'm losing all my dignity, "Just an hour, two hours top"

"I don't have anything to say to you" Ryan sounds serious.

"But I do have things to say to you" I reply, "Please, Ryan, for the old times"

"The old times are just that, Justin" he says firmly, "Old times".

And just like that, he hangs up.