{Justin}
My back is facing the doorway, and I don’t even have to turn around to know that she’s here now. I can feel her presence from somewhere behind me, as I continue to hastily shove clothes inside my bag. “Leave,” I order with out turning around, leaving her no time to do so much as knock.
“We need to talk,” Chloe tells me.
“No, we really don’t,” I snap, spinning around to face her for the first time. She’s standing close to the door, a meek expression gracing her face. I’ve kept away from the apartment for two days since everything happened, and I thought I’d given myself enough time to cool down; I thought I could at least face her if I had to when I came home to get some clean clothes to wear. But seeing her right now has caused all of my anger to rise up onto the surface again. “Just get out. I’ll be gone in a little while, and I’d like it if you stayed out of my way until then,” I tell her, harshly.
Chloe noticeably takes a deep breath before she speaks to me again, “Listen, I know I’m not your favorite person right now, but can we just talk about this at least? Did you get any of my phone calls? I’ve been really worried about…”
“Shouldn’t you be out shopping—spending all of your precious money or something?” I roll my eyes as I rudely interrupt her. I don’t bother to gauge her reaction while I turn around and get back to my packing. Hopefully she’ll leave me the fu.ck alone now.
“Ok, I deserved that,” she states, her footsteps growing nearer as she speaks, “But you’re being such a hypocrite right now, Justin. You can at least admit that I’m not the only bad guy here, because you have to know I’m not.”
I choose not to answer her, instead heading into my closet and pulling out two pairs of jeans. I return to where I’d been before, throwing the denim onto my mattress and taking a glance at her from the corner of my eye. She looks distracted all of the sudden, and I follow my gaze to where hers is fixated, gritting my jaw in the meanwhile.
I realize she’s about to bend down and start picking up the broken pieces. This pisses me off more than I imagine it should. I angrily find another reason to speak again. “Don’t touch it,” I order.
“How did it…did you break it?” she slowly asks me, having the audacity to sound hurt as she does so.
I look down at the floor. Broken shards of glass from a picture frame that once neatly held a photo of the two of us together on my nightstand are now scattered along the carpet. “Obviously it didn’t break by itself,” I snap once again. “Didn’t I tell you to go away?”
She stubbornly answers me, “I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”
“Then I guess you’ll be here a lot longer than I will,” I reply, scathingly. I step to the side when I feel her hand reach out and touch at my upper arm area.
“Will you just stop? I can’t believe you’re treating me like this.”
I don’t say anything in response. It seems to be the only easy way out of this conversation between us.
“I don’t know if you listened to my messages or not,” her voice slightly cracks, “but I wanted you to know that—that I didn’t mean a lot of the things I—“ Chloe stops and I watch her as she shakes her head, looking down at the carpet with defeat. She tries again with out looking up this time, “I guess, first…well I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”
My face hardens. “I don’t care.”
“Well, I do care…I care about you, Justin.” Chloe slides between me and my bed mattress, staring me in the face. “I care about you so much.”
“You think that fixes anything?” I ask her, sharply.
She frowns. “Maybe not--but doesn’t it at least mean something to you—anything at all?”
For the longest time, I stare down at her without speaking a word. Until the point where she seems ready to break down, cry right here in front of me. I guess I’ll always be able to beat her at this one thing, won’t I? She never was good at the staring game.
“Don’t you dare fu.cking cry right now,” I tell her, angry at the nagging guilt within the pit of my stomach upon seeing her like this.
Her voice sounds wobbly with unshed tears, “Does that mean anything to you?” she repeats.
I don’t care what she sounds like. I shouldn’t have to feel guilty for this.“I swear to God, Chloe, if you’re gonna cry right now…”
“Does that mean anything to you?!” Chloe screams the same question again, shoving me backwards by the chest when we’ve gotten so close our noses are almost touching.
I’m shell-shocked by the push for a moment, but I quickly recover. I know enough by now to realize I shouldn’t provoke her anymore than I already have today. But @#%$ it. I don’t give a damn. I don’t care anymore.
“You don’t mean sh.it to me,” I lie to her, another pang of guilt when she winces. “And you know what else?” I sneer. “I just wanted you to know…”
Why the fu.ck do I feel like the monster here? This is her fu.cking fault. She’s the one who betrayed me. At least my feelings were honest the whole time. I wish I could say the same for this lousy bi.tch.
“What?” she finally yells. “You just wanted me to know what?!”
This is it. As mean as it may be, I’m going to say this to her. Besides, it’s too late to turn back now, ain’t it? “…if I would have known how easy you were, I never would have made the stupid @#%$ bet in the first place.” I gulp. “Would of saved me a lot of time and trouble to write a check, you know?”
“What are you trying to say?”
I force myself to smirk. With a shrug, I sate, “If the shoe fits.”
Chloe bites her lip, shaking her head sadly. She looks at the floor for a moment, before she wipes at her face. She shoves past my shoulder, quickly heading for the door. I watch as she reaches for the door knob and my stomach slightly churns at the site.
“Oh yeah. By the way,” Chloe starts lowly, her back still facing me as she speaks. “One more thing.” And before she fully leaves my room, she turns back around and looks my way. Her voice growing in volume and strength and looking into my eyes, she says, “Fu.ck you, Justin.”
I shrug my shoulders, gritting my jaw to stop the waterworks. Sucking back a sniffle through my nose, I simply answer, “I already did that, remember?"
* * *
{Chloe}
I slam his door and head towards my own room, covering my mouth with my hand to stifle my cries. I flop down into my bed and lay my head on the pillow, staring at the wall as I weep.
I’m such a fu.cking idiot.
Justin hasn’t been home for two days and I don’t know how many times I called his cell phone to apologize. I started thinking more clearly about things when I looked past my hurt and anger. And I thought we could maybe work through this and maybe we were both just overreacting. It was just traumatic to find out about such a fu.cked up situation, but we could both get over it since we loved each other….
Obviously fu.cking not.
He just made it pretty clear that he wants nothing to do me and that he hates my guts. I wish I hated him, too.
But I wonder where he’s been and where he’s going? Has he been okay? Is he eating well? And if he’s not staying here, where is he going to stay? Who knows when he’ll come back again—when I’ll even get to see him again?
I hear his bedroom door shut and I cry into my pillow harder than ever.
I miss him.
I really miss him.
* * *
{Justin}
I don’t know how long I’ve stood in front of her bedroom door just listening to her, but I’ve finally brought myself to knock in the last few seconds. Now I’m patiently waiting for a response. Finally, a weak, “Come in” reverberates through out my ears.
I nervously twist the handle, prepping myself inside of my head not to get angry again, to let my anger to take control. Because I really don’t want to say anything I’ll regret—I don’t want to hurt her anymore than I already have. I step inside and find her crumpled position on her bed. I wish I could hug her. Instead, I gulp, watching her sit up.
She stares at me blankly.
Shoving my hands into my pockets, I nod my head at her and apprehensively lick my lips. I open my mouth up to speak, but nothing seems to come out. Nothing at all. What the hell is wrong with me?
Chloe looks down at her hands; a frown is on her pretty face. It’s as though there’s a mutual understanding that all the fighting is over. All the fight is gone from within her—I can see it just by standing here and watching her. She’s broken, has nothing left to say to convince me of.
And God, I don’t know. This makes me really sad. I’m talking almost to the point of tears sad. When she finally looks up at me again and whispers, “You’re not coming back, are you?” I’d really just like to cry instead of confirming her question.
Stepping further into the room, I cautiously take a seat on the bed next to her slumped figure. It shifts with the weight of my body, as I hold the silver key to our apartment out with an open hand in silent response. “I was wondering if you could give this to him for me,” I softly answer her. “I- I don’t know when I’ll be back again to get the rest of my stuff.”
“Oh,” she whispers.
A tear slides down her cheek, damn near breaking my heart all over again. No, no, no. I’m not going to reach out and hold her. And no, no, no, I won’t care about her anymore, either. I won’t…
“Please don’t do this, Justin,” she cries, at last. Before I can stop her, she scoots over and wraps her arms around my neck, burying herself against my upper body. “Please don’t leave me,” I vaguely hear, as she shakes atop me with whimpers. “I don’t want to lose you. We can get through this. If you’ll just…” She stops short, lifting up and glancing at my arms that have remained stiffly in place. Her chin trembles before she’s concealing her face in her hands and quietly sobbing into them.
I don’t know what to say. Of course I hate seeing her cry. I do still love her. I love that girl. And I feel bad—l feel like complete @#%$—but it has to be this way. I can’t deal. Everything is just too @#%$ up with us anymore. Or maybe the real problem is that it always has been too @#%$ up with us, and all along, from the very start.
“I love you,” Chloe weakly whispers, finally breaking us back into conversation. Timidly, she asks, “Don’t you love me too?”
I still don’t know what to say. So I opt for the same ole’ same ole’—I say nothing at all.
And then she seems to cry even harder. “Don’t you, Justin?” Chloe asks me again.
I swallow, my Adams apple straining in my throat with the pressure of it all. What does she expect me to say? Yes? As if it even matters? Well, guess what. It doesn’t. Love isn’t always the @#%$ answer. In fact, sometimes it’s the problem.
“I did,” I admit, at last.
What? Don’t you look at me like that.
How many times do I have to repeat myself? I’m not the bad guy here...so what if I’m sort of lying to her?
“You did?” Chloe asks. Her voice is lifeless, “Meaning that you don’t anymore.”
“I’m…” I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
I am. I really am so damn sorry. I hate seeing her look broken like she does now.
She sadly whispers out a weak protest, “But I love you.”
I look down at my lap. “I know,” is all I can think of to say back to her. I just--I have got to leave. I really have to, but my feet won’t seem to move in sync with my head, and it feels like I’m stuck here to her bed or something.
I don’t know when or how, but finally, I manage to push my body up and head for the exit wordlessly. I force myself not to take one glance at her as I do so, and I momentarily want to curse her when I hear her sweet voice calling out to me again, just before I have the chance to leave, “Justin?”
I pause in mid-step, slowly reaching my hand out to the doorknob. “Y
“You don’t have to go,” she tells me. “I mean—I’ll—I’ll be the one to move out.”
This causes me to spin in a circle. I automatically protest her offer, “Chloe, you don’t…”
“You’re only leaving because you don’t want to be near me,” Chloe reasons gently. “You lived here a lot longer—way before I came around—so I should be the one to go,” she finishes off, sadly.
“You’re staying,” I shake my head with adamancy.
“Just—.”
Holding my hand up in the air, “I can’t live here anymore, okay?!” I tell her. “I don’t want to have to be reminded of you every-fu.ckin’-day!” I loudly snap.
Dammit--that came out a lot harsher than I meant for it to come out. Chloe bites her lip, and I shake my head to myself, getting ready to leave. I can never do anything @#%$ right, can I?
“Justin!” her voice interrupts me on my way out once more.
Jesus! How much more can she possibly take? It’s almost as if she enjoys this @#%$. Maybe she can see my torture…the pain she causes me. Damn her. Damn her for ruining everything and then sounding all innocent, looking at me the way she does. “What Chloe?” I demand, harshly. So much for me being nice to her. I guess being mean is the only way I can get rid of her.
“I’ll miss you. I mean…” She pauses.
Damn it. I hate her. And it’s all her fault she misses me, anyways. It’s her fault we’re over. I don’t feel sorry for her. Damn…it.
“…I mean…you’re my best friend. I mean, I guess, well, you were,” Chloe stutters out.
I close my eyes, reaching for the doorknob. I let out a shaky sigh. “Thanks.”
“Sure,” she squeaks.
I nod my head, signaling the end of this awkward conversation. I open the door and I force my feet forwards, finally ready to leave this time. For real. But her voice predictably stops me before that can happen; she really does want to torture me, doesn’t she?
“I really love-d you. I just...”
Still, I don’t bother turning around, as I wait for her to continue. I wish she’d just stop. I stand here for a few seconds, waiting in the silence. Then finally, she changes her approach, and asks, “Justin?”
Should I even bother to answer this time? I mean, maybe I should turn around and…
“Take care of you,” she whispers, at last.
With that said, I realize she’s finally done. I realize it’s time for me to go. And so I do just that: I leave, and this time, I’m never turning back.
* * *
{Chloe}
A few hours later, I realize that he’s not coming back. He’s really not going to come back. I just laid here in my bed, thinking maybe he’d change his mind and turn around. But as the minutes have slowly ticked away, I’ve slowly come to accept his absence for good. Who knows when I’ll see Justin Timberlake again?
So I decide to go into his room instead of wishing for his return. I’ll just sleep in there tonight. It’s the closet I’ll be able to get to him, anyways.
Slipping out of my own bed, I walk my path to Justin’s cracked door and step inside. It’s not exactly clean, a little emptier in fact, but then again, when did he ever have it perfectly tidy… unless I @#%$ at him for it? A soft giggle emits my throat, as I picture his annoyed face when I used to call him a sloppy pig. He would get so riled up over the littlest of things.
Shaking my head, I walk inside and crouch down to start and pick at the broken shards of glass Justin wouldn’t allow me to touch earlier. With a few pieces in my hand, I lean over to the wastebasket under his night stand and pull it out. I gasp when I see what’s inside, dropping the glass right back onto the carpet before I ever get to properly do away with it.
Inside, he’s ripped the pages of the notebook he made for me with all the little poems and pictures he did to make up for our fight. I lift the battered book out of the basket, falling backwards onto my butt and sadly flipping through the destroyed pages. Things couldn’t get much worse than this. I really don’t think they could, anyways.
But then I dump the trash can onto the floor next to see what else he’s gotten rid of, and find something that is much worse. Much, much worse actually. More pictures of us, ones he’s taken off his wall and ripped apart and….and an envelope with my name on it. It’s what’s inside that makes me break down again though: Two plane tickets. Tickets for us to go to New York this summer together. Tickets he was going to give me as a gift, with a note that says, “Happy Birthday, baby. This is going to be the best summer ever. I love you. – Justin”
Here I thought I had no more tears left to cry, at least not after all the ones I’ve shed lately. But apparently I thought wrong, because the damn note is growing blurry to my vision. And apparently, this heart that I had thought was so unbreakable of mine, really was the one in danger all along.
I can’t help but cry. This is all so messed up. For once in my life, I don’t know how I’m going to put myself back together to that perfect girl I’m always trying to be. How will I even function with out him?
I won’t.
I guess I’ve really fucked everything up, haven’t I?
Author's Chapter Notes:
The next few chapters, I can only find on a message board cus my hard drive was stolen (long story.) So anyways, I don't have time to take out all the censored curse words and what not right now, but I'm gonna go ahead and post them just to get it over with. I'll try to go back and edit later. Sorry dears!
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