Your Love is Magical...(A Michael Jackson Love Story)

Part 15: Please

"I still love you, Michael," I said in a hoarse voice. "Please don't leave me." He shut the privacy window and turned his head away even more.

"Look at me!" I cried, now in hysterics. "Dammit, why won't you look at me?"

Mike rolled his eyes. "I gave you all my love and suddenly you want to leave. Do you realize how much that hurts?" he asked.

"I do now, I'm so sorry. I was just so tired of Marlon, and then Jane came along to ruin my day, and it's just so stressful with this album and everything." I moved back closer to him.

Michael looked in my eyes. "This is my life. After I leave the Jacksons, I'll be doing my solo career. There will be no break."

I held his hand in both of mine. "And I would be there every step of the way, Mikey. I promise. I don't really wanna leave." I smiled.

"You made your desicion," Mike said. I flinched as if he'd hit me.

"I'm going to have to live right next to you every day and not come over to be right with you. That is the worst torture you can put me through," I explained. "You're my best friend, my only friend. I don't want to lose you."

The limo stopped. I gripped the seat and started to panic. "No, please don't

make me go back to California without you!"

"Stop acting like a child!" Michael growled. He yanked me from the seat, kicking the door open.

"Michael please! I take everything back! Don't make me go!" I sobbed.

He put his mouth up to my ear. "The paparazzi are outside. Do. Not. Struggle. Or else you're going to be on the front page of every magazine tomorrow with some ridiculous story attached to it," he whispered.

I nodded in agreement. He held my tear-stained face to his chest as we entered the hotel. The elevator was waiting for us. I was still hyperventilating.

The elevator made my unsteady breath echo. "Calm down," Michael murmured. I looked up, my head still on him. I struggled to follow his orders. He hesitantly stroked my hair away from my face.

We reached our floor. It was empty aside from us. Mike opened the door for me. I couldn't pack my belongings. My arms didn't want to work.

I whimpered and tried to turn away. He pushed me through the doorway.

The bed creaked behind me. When I turned, Michael was sitting on the bed with his head in his hands. "You don't have to leave New York," he said quietly. "I just want you to sleep in the other bedroom. I'll help you move your stuff in there."

"Thank you," I sniffed. I gathered my clothes in my arms and shuffled to the unused second bedroom.

"Is our relationship over?" I wondered aloud. Mike dumped more clothing on the bed. "I don't know yet," he sighed.

He kissed my head. I just wanted him to make love to me again. "You should shower," he told me. "I'll wait for you to get out and we can figure everything out from there."

I stripped on the way to the bathroom, not caring at this point. I tossed my last article of clothing, my underwear, behind me. The shower seemed so inviting.

Inside, I hummed a song that'd been stuck in my head for a while. I rinsed the shampoo out of my hair, still humming. My hand grabbed at a towel until I finally pulled it off the rack and wrapped myself in it.

I stepped into the main room of the suite. Michael was waiting there as promised. He was changing his shirt because there were bloodstains on the original.