You're My Special Little Lady

"My name's Peter," he smiled softly, "Peter Monroe." He held his hand out to me, waiting.

"Hi," I mumbled, "I'm Katie Holloway." I shook his outstretched hand, nodding my head. "I, uh, where's my phone?" Oh God, Justin's probably freaking out...

"Oh." He dug though his pocket, pulling my cell out. "I wanted to call someone, to let them know you're okay." He handed it over.

"Who did you call?" I asked curiously, head tilting.

"Well," he began, "he was listed as best friend or something." My eyes lit up immediately.

"You mean best fraaaaaand, right?" I grinned.

"Yeah," he chuckled, "that's it."

"That's Justin. How long ago did you call him?"

"A few minutes ago."

"Oh." There was a slightly awkward silence after that. "How long have I been asleep?"

"About..." he seemed thoughtful, "you know, all day." My eyes widened.

"What?" I gaped. "All day? Why didn't you call him-" My question was cut off by loud knocking.

BANG, BANG, BANG.

"Katie?!" A voice behind the door to the right said, panic lining his tone.

"Hold on, hold on," Peter went to the door, unlocking it. Not a second passed before it slammed open, revealing a worry stricken, exhausted Justin Bieber.

"Katie." He breathed, staring at me.

"Justin Bieber is your best friend?" Peter asked in surprise. I couldn't answer; Justin was already sitting on the bed across from me, holding me tightly.

"See, this is what I get for letting you stay home alone." I wasn't sure if he was teasing, but I didn't bother asking.

"Sorry." I said, burying my face in his shoulder, sighing. For nearly five minutes exactly, Justin just held me. I was too happy to start crying again. I felt safe. But I had to pull away. Peter's amount of awkward was very noticeable by now. "Justin, uh, this is Peter. He saved me." He kept his one arm wrapped tightly around my waist as he turned to greet him.

"Thank you." He said, shaking his hand. "For being there when I couldn't."

"Justin..." I whispered, locking eyes with him. There was pain shimmering in them, growing as he turned away.

"We, uh, we're leaving." He said, standing, pulling me up beside him, keeping me close. "Thanks Peter, I mean it."

"You're welcome." Peter said, keeping his voice low and gaze on the ground. Justin went for the door, pulling me with him.

"Bye." I said as I passed him. He mumbled it back to me as the door closed. Justin didn't speak as we went through the apartment building. His grip didn't loosen, his eyes didn't change. We climbed in his limo, heading back to the hotel I had woken up in just this morning. I wished, now, that I had never gone out. "Justin, say something." I grasped his hand in mine.

"I broke my promise." He said, catching my eyes.

"No." I said immediately, vigorously shaking my head. "You've kept me safe my whole life."

"But when you really needed me..." He whispered. "I wasn't there."

"It was my fault." I said. "I should haven't dressed like that. Hell, I shouldn't have gone out without a body guard. It's not your fault." He looked away, biting his lip. I could see tears gathering in his eyes. It was times like these that I understood why he was my best friend; we could talk about anything, he could cry in front of me, I could cry in front of him. No matter what happened, we still loved each other. Always. "Look at me." I took his chin in my hand.

"I promised I'd keep you safe and never let anyone hurt you, Katie," he said, "I broke my promise. My career got in the way, and you almost-"

"Stop." I frowned. "You're career is your dream, you were doing what you love."

"But I wasn't protecting who I love." He shot back. "I should have been there, but I wasn't."

"I went out, I went down that street, I put that outfit on, I forgot about my damn mace. It's my fault. Not yours." He said nothing, turning away and pushing the door open. I hadn't even noticed the limo stop moving. We were at a new hotel. He must have come here at some point, while I was sleeping / missing. He helped me out, leading me inside, completely ignoring everyone and everything around him. We got to a room in complete silence. I sat on the bed, holding my arms out to him, wanting a hug. He shook his head, no, and started toward the bathroom door. "Justin." I called. He paused. "I need a hug."

"Not from me." He grabbed the doorknob, turning it.

"I need you, Justin." I said, stopping him. "Please." He turned slowly.

"Why?"

"You're my best friend; the most important person in the world to me. I love you and god damn it, I want a hug!" He sighed, walking toward me. His arms coiled around me. I closed my eyes.

"I'm sorry." He murmured.

"Not your fault." I stated, lying down, pulling him on top of me. He sighed.

"Katie-"

"Shut up. Go to sleep."

"But-"

"Go. to. sleep."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm on top of you?"

"That's not what I meant." Eye roll.

"I don't want to sleep. I'm not tired."

"Liar."

"Seriously, Katie, I need to shower." I sighed heavily, releasing him, sitting up as he stood.

"Whatever."

"How are you so calm?" He snapped. I turned my head, looking at him with a dull look.

"Hm?"

"You were almost...raped, why are you so damn calm?"

"Main word, almost. I wasn't."

"But you could have been!"

"But I wasn't!" I hissed. "Let it go." I stood, attempting to head for the bathroom before him. I needed to shower, too, and he took longer than I did. He stopped me, speaking;

"No," he frowned, "I know you, Katie. You freak out when we watch Law and Order!"

"So what?" I crossed my arms. "I wasn't raped, Justin, I'm fine!"

"God damn it, that bastard touched you!" He grabbed my shoulders. "You're mine and he touched you and just thinking about what he could have done..." he said, "it makes me sick."

"Nothing happened." I replied.

"Nothing happened because of Peter." He frowned. "I wasn't there."

"Not this again." I groaned. "It's not your fault. I'm yours, nothing happened, blah, blah, blah. Okay? It makes me sick to think about it, too, so that's why I'm so damn calm. I'm trying to forget and you keep reminding me!" His shoulders slumped, a sigh escaping his lips.

"I love you so much, Katie. I just...really hate myself."

"Don't. It's my fault."

"It's not your fault. You didn't make him go over to you-"

"Neither did you." I interrupted him. "Please, let's stop talking about it."

"Fine." He let out another sigh.

"Fine." I nodded. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."