◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ Michael Jackson is exceptionally clingy. You had spent most days over at his house, sleepovers, dinners, movie nights. It was becoming as natural as breathing to you.
But of course, something kept itching away at your mind. Maybe Michael didn’t know how to push you away, maybe he was too kind. He probably needed a break from you.
So instead of arriving at his house like usual, you stayed at your apartment. Usually around this time Michael would arrive home from his studio sessions.
You were sitting in your own bed, flipping through a magazine when a sharp, shrill ring came through the telephone beside you.
Your heart leapt at the sound, you picked up at the third ring. “Hello?”
“Where are you?” Michael instantly asked, wasting no time.
“I’m in bed. At my apartment.”
“Why are you over there?” Michael sighed, you could imagine him frowning on the other side.
“Did I do something?” Michael asked, you couldn’t help but notice how his tone was a mixture of restlessness and frustration.
“What! No! No. Of course you didn’t, Michael. I just… I just thought you might need space-”
Before you could even finish your sentence, Michael cut you off. “I don’t need space. I miss you. I want you here with me, baby.”
your heart sped up at his words, twisting the cord around your finger trying to distract yourself. “I’ll have Bill pick you up okay? see you soon.”
“…okay.” The line went dead. And you realise how far from the truth your thoughts had been.
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