His Mistake:

6:

It's been a week since your confrontation with Justin and he's been doing everything to get back on track.

He calls and checks in you everyday. He comes by every so often. He even sends you flowers. And it's sweet and all, but there's no feeling behind it.

You've been getting better and better. Your doctor says you've improved a lot but still suggests you get plenty of rest.

Today was a chill day. You were going to stay at home and watch netflix all day. No worries. No stress. Just movies.

You pop some popcorn and grab drinks out the fridge. Suddenly, your phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Hi sweetheart. How are you?" Justin's voice booms through the phone.

"Hi Justin. I'm fine and you."

"I-I'm g-great." He slurs.

"Uh Justin... Are you okay?" You ask.

"O-oh I'm fine. A-actually I'm coming to see you... I-in just a f-few minutes." He says giggling a little.

You heart breaks a little. He sounds drunk.

"Justin where are you?" You ask grabbing your keys.

"I-I... I d-don't know." He slurs sounding sad.

"Look stay where you are okay? I'm coming to find you." You say opening your door. You were shocked to find Justin sitting in front of your door, his phone to his ear.

"I-I... I-I did what you said..." He croaks, his voice fragile and weak. He sounded like a broken child. And he looked like he had been crying. You reach for his hand and he gladly took it as you lead him into the apartment.

He laid on the couch, a bucket sitting beside him just in case he needed it. You gather up aspirin and water and something light for him to eat after his stomach had settled.

"Y/n..." You hear him whine. You sigh heading into the living room.

"What is it?" You ask.

"C-come cuddle... P-please." He says reaching his hands out for you. He looked so cute and fragile. And it actually broke your heart.

"Have you thrown up yet?" You ask.

"N-no." He says.

"Well... Throw up first and then I'll think about cuddling okay?" You say sweetly.

"B-but y-y/n... I-I w-wanna c-cuddle." He whines like a little boy who's sick from the flu.

"I understand sweetie. But you need to throw up first okay?"

He sighs in defeat, sniffling a little as his head hits the pillow. "O-okay."

Suddenly your phone rings and you go to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Y/n have you seen Justin?" Scooter asks.

"Um... Yeah. He's over here."

"Oh thank god! Is he okay?"

"He's drunk. But he's okay." You sigh.

"Okay. Well let him stay there. The paparazzi and media don't need to know where he is." He says.

"Okay." You simply say.

"Are you okay sweetie?" He asks noticing your tone.

You felt yourself about to cry. "He needs help scooter."

"Yeah. I know. And he knows. But he's just going through a lot y/n. Maybe you can help him."

"H-how? I-I'm not a t-therapist..." You stammer.

"No. But you're one of the things that keep him sane. You're a belieber. And he loves you." He explains.

"I don't know scooter." You say.

"Just try please." He begs.

"I-I'll try." You say, sniffling.

"Thank you so much. Call me when he's better." He asks.

"I will. Bye." You say before hanging up.

As you hung up, you hear a gagging noise. You wince as Justin empties his stomach contents. You sigh heading into the living room, preparing for a long night of tender loving care.

(A/n: okay. The next few parts are going to be a little cliche. Prepare for water works. Get your tissues ready. Some stuff is about to be revealed. On y/n's part. Five comments, next chapter.)