#13rw

Y/N hadn’t heard from Justin all day.

Not a text. Not a call. Not even a lazy emoji to let her know he was alive.

She tried not to spiral—maybe he was just with Bryce or had football practice or forgot his charger. But they had made plans, and Justin never bailed without at least a dumb excuse.

But this time? Nothing.

Worried and frustrated, she asked around at school. Bryce hadn’t seen him since the day before. Zach didn’t know where he’d been either. Eventually, Zach hesitantly handed over Justin’s address, clearly unsure if he should. Y/N thanked him and headed there on instinct.

She didn’t expect the neighborhood. It wasn’t the kind of place she imagined Justin Foley living in. The sidewalks were cracked and paint peeled from the houses. This didn’t look like Justin.

Still, she walked up to the door, nerves buzzing.

She knocked.

From inside, she heard shuffling. Then Justin’s voice—hoarse and defensive—snapped, “Go away, not interested.”

She blinked, confused. Not interested? She knocked again, louder this time.

“Justin, it’s me!” she called.

A pause. Then the sound of locks clinking and the door creaked open.

Justin stood there, hair muffled, dark circles under his eyes, wearing a hoodie that looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks. Behind him, the house was dim, cluttered, and smelled faintly of smoke.

“Y/N?” he muttered, voice caught between relief and panic. “What are you doing here?”

“I—I was worried. You didn’t answer your phone all day. I thought something happened.”

His eyes darted over her shoulder, scanning the street like someone might be watching. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said quickly. “This isn’t—this isn’t a good place.”

She looked at him, really looked. “Can I come in?”

He hesitated. Everything in him screamed no, but her eyes were soft and worried and kind and… he couldn’t say no to that.

Reluctantly, he stepped aside. “Just for a second.”

She walked in slowly, eyes adjusting to the dark. The place was small—barely furnished, mess scattered around. Empty beer cans. Cigarette butts. Ash stains. A grimy kitchen off to the side. It was so far from what she imagined his life to be.

“Justin…” she whispered, turning back to him, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… stuff at home.”

“You could’ve just told me you weren’t feeling up for the date. I wouldn’t have cared. I was just scared.”

Before he could answer, a voice shouted from down the hall.

“Is that your little girlfriend?” a woman slurred. “You bringin’ girls here now, Justin?”

Y/N turned as a woman stumbled into view—slender, in stained clothes, mascara smudged under her eyes, a beer bottle in one hand and something suspicious-looking clutched in the other.

Justin froze.

The color drained from his face.

“Mom, go back to bed,” he muttered sharply.

She rolled her eyes. “Ain’t got no weed, if that’s what she’s after. Seth sells the strong stuff and he isn’t here right now so she should come later.”

Y/N’s breath caught. She looked from the woman to Justin. Something in her expression cracked.

“Please,” Justin said suddenly, voice barely a whisper. “Come outside with me. Please, let’s just talk outside.”

She didn’t argue.

He didn’t even grab his jacket—he just opened the door, gently placed his hand on her back, and led her out into the cool afternoon air like it might erase what she’d just seen.

They walked in silence down the cracked path until they reached the sidewalk. Justin shoved his hands deep into the front pocket of his hoodie, his shoulders tense, eyes on the pavement.

Y/N didn’t push him to talk.

She just waited.

After a minute, he muttered, “I didn’t want you to see that.”

“Justin...”

He glanced at her, quick and unsure. “I thought if I just… kept everything looking good from the outside, maybe you’d never have to know.”

Justin leaned against the streetlight pole, exhaling slowly. “That’s not even the worst of it. That guy—Seth—he’s my mom’s boyfriend. He’s a drug dealer. He’s… not great. He hits and stuff” He looked away, jaw clenched. “My mom doesn’t give a shit. As long as she gets what she wants, she’s fine letting him do whatever.”

Y/N stayed quiet, letting him talk. The words were falling out now, like a dam breaking after too long.

“I used to stay at Bryce’s a lot because it was better than there. Cleaner. Safer. But it’s not like I really belong in his world either. I messed up. I missed our date, I ignored you all day, and now you’ve seen all this shit—”

“Justin,” she interrupted gently, stepping closer. “Stop.”

He blinked at her.

“This doesn’t change anything.”

His lips parted, eyes wide with disbelief. “It doesn’t?”

She shook her head. “Your home life sucks. That’s not your fault. You’re still… you. The guy I like. The guy who holds my hand when I’m nervous, who walks me to class even if it makes us late, who always texts me goodnight even when he’s half-asleep. You’re still him.”

Justin couldn’t speak. His throat tightened, and something unfamiliar stung behind his eyes.

“I was just worried,” Y/N added. “I thought something had happened to you. I didn’t and don’t care where you live — I just needed to know you were okay.”

He looked down, his voice almost breaking. “I’m sorry about the date. I wanted to go. I just… I fell asleep. After a fight with Seth, I was so tired, I didn’t even check my phone.”

She nodded slowly, then reached into her hoodie pocket and jingled her car keys. “Come on.”

“What?”

“We’re going to get food,” she said simply. “You’ve got that ‘I skipped two meals’ look on your face.”

“I’m fine—”

“You’re not,” she cut in with a small smirk. “And I’m starving, so come on.”

He followed, still in a quiet daze.

Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting in her car at a fast-food parking lot, windows slightly rolled down, fries between them and greasy paper bags rustling.

Y/N passed him a burger and an iced drink. “Eat.”

Justin took it slowly, almost unsure it was real.

“Thanks,” he said eventually. “For… all of this.”

She smiled. “It’s what girlfriends do, Foley.”

He chuckled lightly, the tension in his shoulders finally starting to ease. “You’re… way more chill about this than I thought you’d be.”

He scratched the back of his neck, eyes low.

“You can come to me whenever, you know. If it gets bad. If you need to crash or eat or just… not be there.”

Something flickered in Justin’s chest—some fragile, foreign mix of safety and warmth.

He reached for her hand, their fingers locking over the cup holder. “You’re kind of amazing.”

He smiled, leaning his head back against the seat, food finally in his stomach, her hand in his, and—for once—a tiny moment of peace in the chaos of his life.