"What's up?" I smiled over at Scooter, sitting down on the couch. I hadn't the slightest idea why Scooter suddenly needed to talk to me, but I was curious to find out.
"I need to talk to you about something," His hand flew to the back of his neck, scratching it as he looked down at the ground. "I don't really know how you're going to react." He seemed nervous.
I sighed deeply. "What did he do this time? Did he dye his hair again? What animal did he get now?" I questioned, figuring it could only be something Justin had done.
"It's not just Justin, it's both of you." He sighed. "Someone somehow got access to Justin's phone, and for some reason, that boy has some graphic photos of you." He sent me a sympathetic look as my face dropped.
"Please tell me this is a joke." I chuckled, leaning forward, my elbows rested on my thighs. "I'm going to kill him; I told him that they weren't secure on his phone but he insisted." I muttered.
"Hey!" The door shot open and Justin walked through cheerily, making me grumble. I jumped up, storming towards him. "What's wrong?" His eyebrows furrowed as he examined my face.
"Justin, come sit down." His eyes darted to Scooter who sat patiently in his seat, speaking up now so I didn't attack the defenceless Justin stood before me.
"What? What's going on?" He slumped down in on the couch, bringing his arm around me once I sat next to him.
Scooter sighed, knowing he had to reveal the truth one more time. "Someone got into your phone, they leaked the photos you had of [Y/N]." He sent Justin a glare.
"Oh." Justin nodded his head, not phased. A few seconds later, his face dropped and he looked between Scooter and I. "Oh, shit." He whispered.
"Justin, you knew it wasn't safe. Why could you possibly need them so much that you'd risk [Y/N]'s privacy?"
Justin's leg bounced up and down nervously. He sighed. "I'm away a lot, okay? I need..something to..help me." He grabbed a hold of my hand and looked over at me. "But I never thought it'd actually be a problem! I didn't think someone would actually get hold of them, I'm so sorry."
I came to a realisation. "To be honest, it's not your fault, Justin; guys in relationships have photos like this of their girlfriends all the time, just because you're a celebrity, doesn't take away your right to be able to have these." I gripped his hand in mine, letting him know it was okay. "I'm just so embarrassed." I chuckled.
"I wish there were something we could do, but there out there now. I guess you've just got to wait for it all to blow over and Justin, we'll have to get your phone secured again." Scooter stood up, wiped down his shirt. "I'll let you know if I hear anything, I'll see you both later." We nodded and Justin said his goodbye, we sat alone in silence.
"Do you know which photos they were?" Justin muttered, looking down at the black TV screen in front of him.
I turned to him. "What does it matter? My everything is still out there for the world to see." I threw my head back agains the back of the couch.
"Some were worse than others, you know? Some were just you posing with a sheet around you and some were good enough they got me off in minutes." He chuckled, his face dropping when he saw me glaring at him. "Sorry." He muttered, pulling out his phone.
It was quiet for another few minutes. I laid still, force to drown myself in the fact that everyone had now seen the me I only wanted Justin to ever have the privilege to. From beside me, Justin let out a low groan, but he didn't move. "What?" I gazed over at him.
"Shit." He mumbled. "Well, there's about four of them; they're not so bad, only one of them is of you fully nude and I'm also in one of them too." He looked over at me sympathetic. "You look hot in all of them though." He shrugged as though it was supposed to make me feel better.
"Will you get bashed for the one you're in?" Worry flooded me as I imagined the media trying to take him down.
"Well I'm naked so, probably." He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "But we'll manage this together, right?"
"We always do." I chuckled, nudging my body into his.
