well someone has to be the grown up here

She hadn’t spoken much to Tori since her arrival, but Candice remembered their paths crossing when she was last on the show and she found herself excited to be sharing a hotel suite with another girl. It was better than being stuck with some grown-ass, drunk idiot like Norman Reedus or whoever else. Plus, the other woman seemed sweet. Pouring herself a drink in preparation for this afternoon’s celebrations, the blonde actress looked up when someone else entered the room. ‘Hi, gorgeous. You want a drink? I figure I might as well take advantage of the free mini bar while we’re here. This alcohol ban has been torture for me.’ 

@jfctorikelly

The Piano Room (Justin Imagine)

I got inspired by a video I watched the other day of Justin playing the piano by himself without anyone bothering him, and I came up with this.  Hope you guys enjoy.


I bumble through the front door of Justin’s house with a brown paper bag of groceries, breathing heavily as I place the heavy bag on top of the kitchen island.  Someone has to go get the groceries since this grown ass man never does.  And since I’m staying here for the next few weeks before I have to go back to college, I might as well get us enough food to last while I’m here.  A hot flash warms my body too quickly and I have to lean against the island to rest for a moment.  I continue to breathe through my nose to regulate my breathing.

“I really need to get in shape,” I mumble as I stand up straight and walk back to the front door to get the other grocery bag.  When I come back inside, I close the door behind me and yell out, “Hey babe!  I’m back from the store!  Can you come help me put the groceries up?”  No answer.  Typical.  I roll my eyes and begin putting the groceries away one by one—storing some things in the refrigerator, others in the freezer, quite a few in the pantry, and so on and so forth.  Justin still hasn’t come to help me after I’m halfway done, and now I’m beginning to get aggravated.  I finish unpacking and organizing the groceries anyway and I am about to call out for him again when I faintly hear the sound of a piano playing.  I immediately assume that he’s in the dining room where his black baby grand piano is, but I am confused when I see that no one is there.

“Justin?” I hesitantly call out.  “Where are you?”  As I should have expected, no reply.  I huff as I continue to walk around the massive mansion in search of the piano music and my boyfriend of six months.  He usually answers me when I call for him, and I know he’s home because all of his cars are in the driveway.  As I walk down the hallway to the guest bedrooms, I pass a cherrywood door that I have not opened before but pause in my tracks as I hear the vague piano sounding louder than before.  Justin could more than likely be back behind here since he is nowhere else to be seen.

I bite my lip and proceed to open the door slowly.  There is a dimly lit spiral staircase leading downstairs to what seems to be a lower level of the house that I have never been to before.  I only know so much about this house anyways, so it’s only reasonable for me to explore a little.  I proceed downward carefully and quietly, unsure of what I might find or see.  I don’t think it’ll be anything too terrible, but after watching all of Criminal Minds in the matter of a few months, I know that I have to be prepared for anything.  The piano gets louder the farther I go down until I finally reach the ground floor.  I see a lightened hallway to my left and decide to warily walk through the new part of the house that I never even knew existed.

The farther down the hall I go, the clearer the piano sounds.  The hall has one door on each side and then one more door at the very end.  I press my ear against both of the doors on the walls, but no sound comes out.  The only door that’s left is the one standing solitarily.  My heart is pounding and my hands are clamming up at the anticipation.  When I finally stand in front of the large, white door, I cautiously press my ear against the door.  The vibrations of the loud piano ring through the door and the walls around me, and the piano sounds beautiful.  I listen more closely and can vaguely hear someone singing.  I am positive that it’s Justin, but I decide to slowly open the unlocked door, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to disturb the person on the other side.

When I open the door all the way, a familiar figure is facing away from me, his fingers moving gracefully across the most gorgeous white grand piano I have ever seen.  I smile widely as I continue to watch Justin playing and singing what seems to be “Change Me”.  I close the door quietly behind me and stride through the room until I am behind Justin, examining him and his incredible piano playing.  I have never gotten to sit down and truly watch him play, and now I am beginning to wonder why he seldom ever plays for people just for fun.  I am utterly mesmerized at how great he is and how breathtaking he looks as he plays.  He looks so calm.  This is probably the most relaxed I have ever seen him.

He’s—happy.

I don’t even realize that he has stopped playing until I see him crane his neck up to look at me.  I brush a stray piece of hair out of his face.  “That was beautiful, Justin.”  I can see the blush creep up into his cheeks as he looks back at the sheets of music sprawled across the piano.

“It could have been better,” he mumbles while collecting the sheets and putting them back into a binder by his foot.  I frown.

“Better than anything I could ever do.  You really are amazing.”  Justin sighs and pulls out another piece of music; this time, it was something more classical.  I look at the cover and recognize the composer’s name as Mozart.  “So this is what you do in your free time?  You play Mozart?”  Justin laughs.

“Sometimes,” he replies.  “Sometimes I’ll play Bach or Boccherini.  Depends on my mood.”

“Spoken like a true pianist.”  Justin breaks out into a giddy grin before putting the music on the stand.  He opens the thin book to the first page and prepares himself to begin.  But before he does, he stands up and takes down the top of the grand piano so that it is flat.  I raise a puzzled eyebrow at him and am about to ask him why he did that when he turns to me.

“Come sit up here,” he says.  “I want you to listen and there’s nowhere else to sit in this room.”  Both of my eyebrows go up.

“And possibly kill your piano?  No thanks.”  Justin laughs loudly, making it echo around the dimly lit room covered in books.

“It’s a very sturdy piano, y/n.  State of the art.  I promise you won’t hurt it.”  I blink at him skeptically before deciding to obey and attempt to climb up onto the piano.  He helps me up and, once I am steady and comfortable, he grins and sits back down on the white bench where he was before.  I sit cross-legged facing Justin, watching in awe as he plays the unbelievably fast piece like it’s nothing.  He is so talented and he doesn’t even realize it.  If he does realize it, then he just knows how to be humble about it.

The rest of the day goes on like this:  me sitting on the piano, listening to him play piece after piece after piece of music.  He lets me choose a couple of songs that I think will sound beautiful and I am not disappointed.  We tend to do this a lot now whenever I come back to California to see him.  I sit on top of the piano; sometimes I read or I write or I’ll do some homework for school.  Most of the time, though, I sit and listen.  Nothing beats this.  Nothing at all.  The piano room, for me, means some quiet alone time with Justin.  For Justin, it’s his lifeline.  It’s his place.

For him, the piano room is a part of him.


It’s always good to have a space to call your own, especially if it helps you deal with the rough parts of life.  Find your space and embrace it.  Embrace yourself and your talents.  Use your talents for good.  Be the best part of you that you can be.