sorry // justin bieber

61.- holding on

Justin

"His heart was failing" she tells me, looking at her hands that rest on her lap. "They knew, that's why he was here. He was supposed to get treated since they couldn't help him in Chile".

I limit myself to rub her back slowly and nod.

"He must've been really sick" she sobs, "he had just arrived... He had just arrived and it didn't pass a week and he was gone".

I couldn't think of anything to say. What are you supposed to do when the girl you care insanely about looses the one she cared insanely about? What do you do when you're holding a person that's falling apart right in your arms? In front of your eyes? But mostly, how could you return the favor to a person who brought so much light and happiness to your life you just can't see yourself without her anymore?

What the hell do I do?

"Be there" a part of me says, as it's the obvious answer. But I don't want just that, I wish I could fix this somehow but the problem here is the only problem in the world that doesn't has a solution. What's left then? All I want is for her to stop suffering.

"I wish there's something I could do" I say next to her ear.

"You've already done a lot by coming here" she replies, wiping the tears off her face with the back of her hand.

And we're back to silence.

Halley

I feel like I'm a bottle of water being upside down and open. And I don't mean it just for the tears, I mean it because I feel like everything inside me is slowly leaving my body in a constant invisible flow. I feel empty inside and each moment passed I feel like another piece of my heart is being ripped out of my chest and chewed by a pack of wolves. It's not pretty at all, let me tell you.

Nothing hurts because I feel nothing at all. The only thing I can feel and be aware of is Justin's breath against my neck and his fingers brushing my hair to one side, getting it out of my face. I let myself lean agains his strong body on the couch and he holds me as if I'm a porcelain jar that can't touch the floor. His clothes are all wet from my tears but he doesn't seem to care at all, he's too focused on the brushing. I run my hand through his chest to wipe away some of my tears, but it's just a reflex act since I know it won't do much.

"I got you all wet" I sobbed.

"Being in another situation I'd make a joke out of that" he said, "which I obviously won't right now".

My face softens a little at his comment, a shaky breath leaving my chest, not ready yet to become a laugh.

"When's the funeral?" he asks from above me.

"Tomorrow morning" I reply, fearing the next thing that comes out of my mouth, "Will you-"

"I'll be there" he cuts me off, "I'll be there, if you want me to" he adds.

"I want you there" I nod slowly, "I'll need you there" I admit with a shy tone.

I immediately regret saying that for the fear of sounding too clingy, too eager, but all of my worries are released when he holds me tighter and gives me a kiss on the top of my head.

"I'll be there with you then".