Give It A (One) Shot! TDI STYLE!

Justin X Reader

It all had happened too fast. Your mind was in a blur. The gentle, soothing tones of the priest and the raspy sobs and sniffles of the black-clad people around you swirled around you as if in a blender. The throbbing booms of your heart pounded in your ears, and a nauseous occurrence tugged in your gut, willing bile to swirl up your inner systems. 

There was never enough time. Too little of a good thing.

We were such a good thing, we were such a good thing..

You could recall the first day you'd laid eyes on him. His charm and celebrity-like smile illuminated the whole classroom, resulting in the immediate label as a "Heartthrob" and an instant seat at the Populars' lunch table. Along with the affection of nearly all of eleventh grade, boys and girls alike.

Yet that wasn't enough for him.

It wasn't the made up, Ugg-wearing, cell phone obsessed girls that did it for him. The ones who threw themselves at him every chance they got. Who pathetically tried to gain his utmost affection, yet only receiving shallow flirts and brief smiles.

Naturally, It was the shrinking violet in the back of the class, who regularly donned savagely torn-skinny jeans and almost knee-length band tees. Who swiped on a bit of mascara and lip gloss on a good day. Who couldn't care less if she was hated or not; he was garbage, therefore his opinions were as well.

And naturally, that was you.

Of course, at first, you'd never would have believed it. You were Punked, you convinced yourself. You half expected girls to come jumping out of bushes, streaming the emotional moment to SnapChat, capturing his confession and your reaction as punishment for even daring to capture his eye.

But in time, you realized just how wrong you were.

It was all a fantastical fairy tale: each day you were swept off  your feet again and again, by a gorgeous prince who knew exactly how to charm the pants off you. A flippy brown wave pool atop his head, eyes as clear and delicate as raindrops, golden skin- tanned to perfection. 

He was the man you shared your first kiss with, the man you could solely confide anything in, the man who was your best friend and made you feel on top of the world. Days sped into weeks,  and your love grew stronger by the minute.

But time had run short. Your compensation for you lack of love over the groggy years of high school was running low. And what better way to strike the will to love anyone else again than to snatch your lovers' life away with a popped tire? The car had spun out of control, flipping twice and snapping the neck of the sole passenger inside; Justin. 

He looked peaceful in his eternal rest, you decided. His hair delicately feathered out on his head like a wispy cloud, and the corners of his lips turned up slightly, as if he was begrudgingly accepting his demise. His dusty-toned, smooth hands lay folded over his chest, a single daisy in his grasp. You choke back a sob. Daisies were your favorite flower.

"Y/N? C'mon, Sweetheart. It's time," Your Dad toned reassuringly, resting a hand on the small of your back. You placed your hands on the rim of the coffin, tears pouring down your cheeks and onto your beautiful dress, the one Justin had admired so, when he'd taken you on your first date.

The salty tears splashed onto Justin's cold cheeks, and you sobbed. The pallbearers were walking behind you, and you knew you were inconveniencing them. Your father took your hand in his, leading you away.

The last image you saw of your dear boyfriend was the tear-strewn profile of him, looking like he too was remorsing the unfairness of it all.