Survival Of The Fittest {Justin Bieber Fanfiction}

Chapter 5

(This chapter is basically just a “discussion” between Bree and Justin, and you get to know more about what happened to her in high school and how she felt, and you get to know more about Justin :D It's quite long tbh, but hope you enjoy xo)

“Can I j-”

“No you can’t” He breathes, our faces are inches apart. I swear if one of us budges, we would practically kiss.

I look away to avoid his caramel eyes piercing into me. I would turn around and leave, but there is literally no space, and his hand has the door shut, so I can’t escape. Why is he even trapping me here? A few minutes ago, he was making fun of the spot of my face, and now he’s asking if we can “talk”.

“Just… Just listen to me” He says slowly, locking the door and backing away. Of course he would use the lock at the top of the door, since I can’t quite reach it.

“No, I will not listen to you.”

“Why?” He frowns.

“Because first of all you’ve locked me in a room with you!” I gesture up to the lock. “And second, because there’s nothing to listen to.”

“You haven’t even heard what I have to say!” He runs his hands through his hair. I don’t know what he wants to talk about, and I’m not sure I want to hear.

“There’s nothing to say.” I state. Or well I don’t think there is, at least.

“Please.” He begs. He takes a step towards me. I sigh, and cross my arms, awaiting his speech.

“Okay. I know what happened between us an-” He begins but I interrupt straight away, since he’s already made a mistake.

“You mean what you did to me?”

“Yeah” He whispers. “And I’m sorry. Lilly told me what happened during that time, what you did.” My heart stops. Lilly told him about the self-harm? No she wouldn’t have. Would she? I mean, he probably already knows seeing as he told people I did it for attention when he noticed them, but I'm not entirely sure if he remembers now. I doubt it. 

“Um, what... what did she, um tell you?” I stutter. Why would she tell him? Of all people.

“You cried every night. Felt like complete shit, because of me.” My shoulders instantly relax.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I know you did more and I’m sorry, I guess.” What? He guesses he’s sorry? That doesn’t even make sense. Him saying sorry doesn’t really prove anything and it doesn’t mean I’m forgiving him that easy, hell how can you even forgive something that sick? But he does remember about the self-harm and I'm not sure how I feel about that yet.

“Okay...” Is all I can say. There’s nothing more I can say.

“Okay?”

“Yeah” I rock back and forth on my heels, desperately wanting to leave this awkward situation.

“So you forgive me?” His eyes hold the slightest hope but immediately loses it, when I laugh.

“You think I’d forgive you? After all of that?” I tilt my head back in hysterics. It's not funny, so I don't really know why I'm laughing..

“I thought th-” He begins, but I cut him off, again.

“You thought what? That I would forgive you and be all happy that you decided to guess that you were sorry? That I would instantly forget everything you’ve done because you apologised? Well that’s not happening. It’s not that easy. I went through hell because of you and your sick humour.” I yell, pacing back and forth across the room.