' interracial imagines ' - justin bieber

"Do you want me to leave?"

This is part two of my sentence starter series. They're probably gonna be pretty short because I'm still trying to get my writing stamina up. If you have any tips of suggestions, leave a comment! I'd really appreciate it....

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JUSTIN

    I honestly really did not want to be here. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my best friend. That's why I wanted to leave. I didn't know what to do. Here she was, sitting on her bed, breaking. Crumbling. Right in front of my eyes. And I couldn't do anything. I was clueless.

      When she called me, I never thought it would be this serious. See, (Y/N) is a hopeless romantic. Her heart was too big. Too loving. Too kind. She let people in who she probably should've pushed away and always ended up hurt. She chose to see only the good in people and try to ignore or fix the bad. I've told her several times that some people couldn't be nice. It just isn't in their blood. But she insisted that I was wrong. "People can change! It just takes time," she pressed.

     So, late nights of me comforting her weren't new to me. But this time it was different. I had been a few months since I had gotten one of the dramatic, teary eyed calls I was so used to. She hadn't needed ice cream and cuddles for a while. Her new boyfriend, Darren, had been doing all that for her. The only problem was it turned out her was doing it for several other girls also. Apparently our friend, Hailey, spotted him cuddling up to some blonde broad at the local cinema.

     When she called I thought they'd just gotten in a fight and she needed some Chinese take out and a quick vent session. But, when I picked up, she was yelling at me through tears about how she threw a large, overpriced Diet Coke on her new ex boyfriend, and needed a ride home. She was quiet in the car, and as we walked to her room, and even as she changed into her pajamas. But as soon as her butt touched the bed and she played down, the dam broke, and the tears I was anticipating began to flow endlessly. She laid on the bed, sobbing. The kind of sobs the hurt your ribs, and lungs. One's that'll make you feel sick. The kind that give you a headache, and cause just enough physical pain to match the emotional pain that caused the tears.

     She cried for an hour straight. Then she suddenly stopped and rolled on to her back so I could see her face. She looked broken. Her usually yellowish undertone had turned a bright red. (A/N: this happens when i cry omg i look like im part firetruck guys u don't understand) Her crown of curls was now a frizzy, messy afro from being rubbed on her cotton sheets as she squirmed.  Her eyes were puffy and empty. She kept rubbing them, ruthlessly, something she always did when she cried. Her soft, pink lips were swollen, her bottom one pulled in between her teeth in an attempt to hold back her cries. I looked into her eyes and sighed. "Do you want me to leave," I asked carefully, quietly. She stared back blankly and sniffled.

     "Please don't," she whimpered. "Please stay," she croaked. I walked from my spot across the room to her bed and slid my shoes off.

     "Of course," I mumbled, climbing into her bed. She quickly pulled my head to her chest and ran her fingers through my honey blond hair. I listened to her heart calm down, going from a hundred miles per hour, to normal. Her breathing got slower, calmer, and her eyelids began to droop. Within a couple minuets, her finger movements mellowed out, then stopped as she fell fully asleep. I untangled my hair from her hands and switched our position so that her head was on my chest, and dove my fingers into her curls. She sniffled softly, and adjusted so she was comfy. I sighed, looking down at her.

"Why can't you see that I love you?"