3 YEARS LATER…
“Justin, I’m going to need a definite answer for this one.”
I still remained silent. I didn't want to be here. At all.
“Justin, you know why we’re here. Your manager continues to tell me how much you’re rebelling against your contract, you know that's unacceptable. So answer the question.”
“Four.” I croaked out, “I’d rate my life a four right now.”
“And why is that? Because of who you’re hanging around with?”
“I’m trapped. I’m trapped and I can’t get out of this!” I snapped, suddenly wanting to defend myself and my friends. I wasn’t rebelling. I wanted out. “They all think I’m a horrible person. That I spit on my fans and I hate them when I couldn’t be more thankful for the life that I’m living right now. I’ve done this for them for three years now – why would I suddenly become ungrateful? America wants me deported – do you know how fucking hurtful that is?” I sniffed, not wanting to let my stupid therapist see me cry. She’s seen that enough times in the past year or so.
“Have you been taking your pills?”
“Of course.” I muttered. “But they do nothing for the guilt. For the guilt that eats at me. I miss them so fucking much.” My voice cracked and tears began running down my face, the whole ‘not crying’ thing completely out the window once I start talking about them. “I gave them up for my own fame and fortune, for a music career. That was my dream, but this…this isn’t what I wanted! This is a joke. That's how they see me! A joke! They don’t even see me as a serious musician… they see me as someone who needs to be fucking deported.” I muttered bitterly.
“Do you think that's maybe why you’re not happy?”
I let out a hollow laugh. “I have no idea why I’m not happy. I’ve got all the money in the world, millions of fans globally who enjoy my music but…I don’t have them. Or her. She was the only thing that has ever been able to make me even remotely happy and now I can never speak to her again. I was in love with her!” I yelled, tears streaming heavily now. “I let my ambitions get in the way of something more that I wanted. I was 18 –I was scared of what I was feeling! But even then I wanted a future with her.” I finished, wanting nothing more than to pass out on this couch and never wake up ever again.
“So I take it you’re not going to tell me her name today either?”
A shiver ran down my spine at the thought of somebody else knowing that Justin Bieber, the most famous pop star on the planet, was in love with a girl he hadn’t seen in three years, someone who was now largely successful (especially in his eyes) but obviously not known world wide. Cassidy was an author now, one of the best in my opinion. I had bought all three of her books, made everyone I know buy them also, and she was only gaining more and more attention. I was so fucking proud of her. When I researched her, I found she was studying medicine on the side while still managing to write such spectacular books.
I tilted my head to the side, thinking that I most likely didn’t need any of these useless therapy sessions anymore. All they did was bring out more and more hurting. I guess I deserved it.
“The fact that she seems happy without me, while I’m nothing without her. I’m still as broken as I was at 18, and she looks like she fixed herself.” Each word I spoke was like another arrow piercing my heart, an arrow of truth.
Dr. Melinda Helios smiled sadly at me before standing up and motioning for me to do the same, her clipboard tucked under her arm neatly and not one stray hair flying near her face.
“You never know, Justin. Things don't always seem as they are.”
I rolled my eyes before walking out of her office and into the empty waiting room. I almost threw my card at the receptionist, who was very much accustomed to seeing me here. The first time I had walked in, she had screamed and almost passed out from shock, repeating ‘you - but -you - you’re Justin Bieber!’
“Have a nice day, gorgeous.” She winked. I rolled my eyes once again, grabbing my card from her and stuffing it in my wallet. I quickly pulled my hoodie up and turned on the spot, keeping my eyes cast downward.
Focus on the floor
Don't look up
Focus on the fl-
I looked up to see nobody yelling at me for bumping into them, but titling my gaze down I saw a messy head of long brown curls. I had, of fucking course, bumped into a chick. Why God, why? Life was so cruel. She’ll probably scream hysterically before passing out. All her books had fallen to the floor as we bumped into each other and all I could see was the girl kneeling down to pick them up. I quickly followed suit and fucking bumped heads with her.
“Fuck I’m sorry.” I muttered, not looking at her still. It would be a miracle if she didn’t recognize my voice.
Still keeping my head down, I gave her the books back and stood up as she did.
“Uh, thank-you. I wasn’t watching where I was going, sorry.”
Every fucking hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I had goose bumps everywhere as the familiar voice infiltrated my mind and sent electric shocks through my body. It wasn’t her that recognized me as Justin Bieber, but me who recognized her. She was fixing her books, stacking them and making sure they were in order. I looked her over, seeing her in a tight black pencil skirt and a small white top that made her frame look much smaller than it was. I traced her long but thin legs with my eyes until I reached her feet, covered by tiny looking flats.
“Oh my god.” She gasped and I quickly brought my gaze back up to her face. The gorgeous blue eyes were still there, her brown curly locks still and perfect as ever and her pink, plump lips still as beautiful as I left them.
“W-what are you doing here?” I stuttered nervously, running my hands through my hair.
“I can’t talk, I’m late for a meeting, sorry.” She replied cooly, “but I doubt a big bad pop star like you would have any time for me, right?” Her laugh was cold and empty and my heart sunk to the ground.
You made her this way.
“S-sorry.” I stuttered, before moving away from her as fast as I could. As I left the building surrounded by screaming fans wanting my picture, the bright flashes of cameras from the paparazzi her beautiful face was imprinted on the inside of my eyelids, not leaving my mind. I pushed my way through huge crowds of people getting closer and closer to me, my head down, eyes on the floor and hoodie on. As I got into the car waiting for me, I could only think of one thing. I had been waiting so long to see her, I ached for just one look at her, and now… I never want to see her again. Not after taking a glimpse at how badly I ruined her. She didn’t fix herself, not after how I left her. How didn’t I see it? My beautiful Cassidy, my kind hearted Cassidy…Broken.
a/n: HOLY COW GUYS.
I want to thank all of you for your completely AMAZING support for this story and for me. Half the time i didn't even want to write this but i knew i had to at least finish it for you guys! I want to also thank my best friend who gave me loads of crazy plot twists and helped me keep writing even when i was seconds away from deleting this story. I'm so proud of myself because this is the first story that I've actually ever completed! I still need to decide on the sequel but keep commenting if you want one! i want to know if anyone would actually read it or not haha! tell me your thoughts on this last part :) i love you all to the moon and back and i pray that if i DO write a sequel you all continue to keep supporting me! lots of love from me to you x