INACTIVE

The setting sun seeps in through the windows behind him, casting a gentle glow on his shoulders and back whilst his fingers run along the black and white keys of the piano.  You watch him from the doorway, wondering if he knows you’ve entered or if he’s too committed to the song to acknowledge you.  Regardless, you observe his facial expressions from behind the open lid of the piano, admiring the small crease between his brows and the way he’s absentmindedly pouting his lower lip.  It seems like hours before Justin lifts his eyes off of the keys to meet yours, looking at you directly as his fingers deliberately soften the volume of his playing, but still continue the song.

You pad over to him, half-dressed in your underwear and his t-shirt, and take a seat on the bench next to him.  Justin’s eyes never leave you as you do so, and just when you think he’s done playing, he goes back to the introduction and starts the song over again.  Indirectly avoiding the silence that will fall, the tune he’s playing is kept on loop to deflect confrontation and the possible ending to your relationship that might ensue from the final note of just one song.  You don’t mind that he continues to play.  You don’t want him to stop.

This is the deep and dying breath of, this love that we’ve been working on...

You hear the lyrics in your head as your boyfriend plays the melody.  You squeeze your eyes shut as the words vocalize in your mind and rest your head on Justin’s shoulder as you feel tears burning your eyes.

Can’t seem to hold you like I want to, so I can feel you in my arms.

Nobody’s gonna’ come and save you, we pulled too many false alarms...

You reach your hand out, placing it on top of his and lacing your fingers together so that he stops playing. With that song to accompany your silence, you can hear his pain in the lyrics that run through your head and you’d rather not hear those words right now, or at all. Silence hurts less when you have no idea what he’s thinking.  

“In my last serious relationship, I could’ve sworn she was the one.” Justin says softly, looking down at his hand that’s intertwined with yours. “I loved her more than anything –– so much that the idea of losing her scared the hell out of me, but we were so young, and neither of us knew what we were doing.  We basically drove ourselves insane, and I mean, you know that.  You know about her and all the shit we went through just to try and make our relationship work, but we didn’t know enough back then... 

“Like how you’re meant to fall in love with people, but not meant to be with them.”

You give Justin’s hand a light squeeze, just to reassure him that you’re still listening without interrupting him. You wonder if that philosophy applies to you as well, and if this is the end of your relationship, your chest aches to think that’s the case. 

“I’ve only been in love once before you, but I know now that she wasn’t the one ‘cause with you... sometimes I just look at you and wonder how the hell you’re even real?”

You feel a smile tug on the corners of your mouth, “Oh, please.”

“I’m serious! Did your dad make you in a laboratory or something, like some sort of power-puff girl?”

“Shut up!” You giggle, giving him a playful push on the shoulder.

“Okay, okay.” He chuckles, wrapping his arm around you. “In all seriousness, (Y/N), I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you.”

“Justin...” You frown, rolling your eyes as if to put on some sort of tough-girl facade, but he sees right through it.

“Hey,” He stops you, brushing his thumb across your shoulder, “and I never will.”

You shut your eyes as Justin takes your chin under his index finger, trying to get you to look at him, but you refuse as you turn your head away and stand from the piano bench.

“No, don’t do that.” You say firmly.

“Do what?” He asks, leaning back and giving you a confused look as his eyebrows furrow together.

“Justin, you can’t just say all those things and expect things to be okay.  You know things aren’t okay, we aren’t okay! Our relationship is a fucking mess!”

Justin rises to his feet, “Okay, I know, but I don’t want to lose you, (Y/N).”

“And you think I’d be okay if I lose you? You’re acting like you’re the only one who’s getting hurt! Justin, I left home to be with you.  I left my job, school, my friends, my family just to be with you! There’s no need for you to guilt trip me into staying with you when I left everything I have so that we could figure this out.”

“I wasn’t trying to guilt-trip you, (Y/N), I was just telling you how I felt.” He states, rolling his eyes as he speaks.

“Right, because telling me how much you love me right after I hint that we should take a break doesn’t make me feel guilty at all.”

“I just want you to know that I love you, isn’t that worth something?  At least I’m trying!”

You can’t help but scoff, “Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware that taking a ten hour flight to the other side of the fucking planet just to try and make this relationship work wasn’t considered ‘trying’! Next time, I’ll just tell you how much I love you and that I love you even more than my ex.  Yeah, maybe that’ll fix us!”

“I’m not trying to fix us, I’m trying to give you a reason to stay.  I mean, Jesus Christ, (Y/N), when did you stop believing in us? I have no fucking idea what to do to make you stay!”

Something in your mind clicks.

“Yeah,” You breathe, shaking your head as you run a hand through your hair. “Neither do I.”

Justin looks up at you with an evidently terrified look in his eyes. You can hear the lyrics in your head again:

We’re going down, and you know that we’re doomed.

“I’m just gonna’ get changed and go downstairs... see if the concierge can find me a flight back home.” You mutter, cautious as Justin clenches his jaw, but he doesn’t respond, only tips his head just barely as if to nod.

You figure that’s all you’re going to get from him now  –– silence and a stoic expression on his face, so you exit the room and let a tear fall from your cheek.

Justin picks up his hand to hold yours and kisses the crown of your head, humming softly in response.

“I love you too, baby.” He says honestly, but there’s a hint of concern in his tone. “You alright?”

“Of course,” You answer, lifting your head up from your boyfriend’s shoulder to look him in the eye. “What makes you say that?”

“Babe, I can practically feel your anxiety burning off of you.” He jokes, but it makes you frown. Justin lifts his hand to stroke his thumb down the crease that’s formed between your brows, “Aw, come on. What’s on your mind, beautiful?”

You purse your lips to the side, eyeing the crown tattoo below his shoulder as you skim your index finger down the arches of it in an attempt to distract yourself or at least buy some time. It’s useless trying to stall him, –– you know that, –– so you speak up eventually.

“Things are really great right now, at this moment, don’t you think?” You ask, your eyes flickering up to meet your boyfriend’s again. He nods, listening to you attentively, so you continue. “I think so, too, and I think that things are always really great when we’re finally together... but that’s just the thing.

“Cause we’re rarely ever together. And I know we’re constantly having this conversation about you being gone, and me having to wait for just a single minute alone with you, and it’s annoying, but it keeps happening for a reason, you know? We keep getting ourselves into this situation, and we can’t seem to get over it...” 

You pause for a moment, chewing on your tongue because you’re cautious with the words on the tip of it.

“I guess I’m just scared because I don’t think we ever will.” Your eyes had wandered from Justin’s as you were speaking your thoughts, so when you look back at him, you’re a little glad to see he’s still listening, but he looks away from you for a moment, trying to collect his own thoughts. He looks a bit confused, a bit angry, and a bit of something else you can’t really spell out, and the fact of that alone is worrying.

Everything is quiet again, but it’s the kind of quiet that wraps a fist around your throat and chokes you in unyielding silence.  You can feel your heart in your ears and your stomach in your chest.  You’re all kinds of worried, and you can’t stand the silence any longer so you open your mouth.

“Justin, please say something.” You plead.

“What do you want me to say, (Y/N)?” He snaps, undeniably frustrated.

“Just tell me what you’re thinking.” You encourage, trying to keep your voice light as you slide your hand across your boyfriend’s chest. Justin pushes your hand away as he sits up, clearly not having any of this.

“Alright,” He nods, grabbing his jeans from the floor and pulling them on as he rises to his feet. “Here’s what I’m thinking: my girlfriend basically just told me that we argue too much about the same shit –– I agree with that.  We fight a lot, and it’s a pain in the ass, but I think it’s worth it ‘cause I know we’ll make it. Why? ‘Cause I love her enough to just try and get through the bullshit.  

“But she seems to disagree.  As a matter of fact, she quite literally just told me that she doesn’t think we’ll make it at all! And I think that’s kind of fucked up, so I’m a little pissed right now considering my girlfriend thinks our relationship is a hopeless train-wreck––”

“Justin, I never said––”

“Meanwhile, I would happily lose everything I have going for me right now just to keep her, but she can’t fucking reason with me because this argument we keep having is a waste of her time. Right?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, sitting up in bed as your boyfriend stands at the side of the bed while you say, “Justin, you’re putting words in my mouth; that’s not what I meant when I said that.”

“Oh, no?” He snaps, raising his eyebrows at you.

“No, I––...” You pull the sheets up to your chest, feeling vulnerable and distorted. “Fuck, see?!  This is what I mean! I’m sick of fighting with you, Justin! I’m tired of everything between us being so hot and cold all the time.  One second, we’re the only two people in the world –– no paparazzi, no cameras, no screaming girls, –– just us.  Then the next, we’re yelling and going at each other’s throats like we’re in a fucking war-zone, and I’m tired of our relationship being like this!” 

You don’t want to yell, but you have to, as if that’s the only way he’ll hear you and you’ll hear yourself and somehow the truth will come out beneath the noise. And it does. He hears it.

“Tired of our relationship being like this, or tired of our relationship?” Justin asks, and you suddenly feel like you’re being strangled because maybe the latter is what you meant in the first place.