Red & Black || Michael Jackson

seven - talk

The chilled evening breeze hits Michael, causing the face-framing wisps of his hair to float on the air, and into his face. He tucks the loose curls behind his ears to save becoming irritated by them, but, truth be told, his mood is already rather low.

He can hear the sound of mixed laughter; that of his best friend, his son, and of Laurie. He can't help but question to himself why he isn't strong enough to join in with the festivities of the night — particularly when it's in the name of celebrating his new job. He made it through around ten minutes of socialising upon Laurie's arrival, but then the reality of his situation sunk in, and he could take no more. So here he is, sat by himself in Sean's garden, contemplating how he got to this stage in his life.

He glances up at the dark sky, adorned with tiny specks of bright light. To the right of his peripheral vision, the moon glows dully, almost as melancholy as the man observing it. He expels air from his nostrils as a sigh, letting the poetic side of his mind wander.

"Who knows? Maybe right now, Val, you're sitting in California watching the sunset, a few hours behind me, and you're feeling much freer than I'll ever feel again. Maybe you're listening to the music I introduced you to when we were just starting out, and you're thinking of me just like I'm thinking of you. Maybe you're with friends, or maybe you're with your family, and you're regretting what happened between us the way I'm regretting it. Maybe you've had time to reflect, and you realise what you left behind. Maybe I viewed you too highly, and I put you on a pedestal when you showed your true colours. Maybe I still believe that things could go back to the way they were. Maybe I'm naïve, and I still have hope that you'll become a better person for your son before it's too late. But maybe, just maybe, you don't have that level of empathy in you. Maybe, just maybe, you're too cold-hearted for that. And maybe, just maybe, Val, I should accept that and stop chasing a dream that will never manifest itself into reality. You made your choice, and maybe I should remind myself of that, rather than holding on to the person I thought you were."

His eyes cloud over slightly from emotion, so he lets the tears build up. Besides, nobody is around to see his moment of weakness; they're all too busy enjoying themselves inside the house. It's almost as though nobody can even tell he's missing — ironic, given the gathering is essentially in his honour. Individual little droplets fall over his dewy lashes, sliding down his chiselled cheeks before hitting the ground below him. He allows himself to feel all the grief he needs to feel for a love that died far too soon and without — in his eyes — any real cause. As much as he wishes for nothing more than to be done with being upset, he knows that this isn't viable given how fresh the separation still seems to him.

"I'm trying to have hope." He continues talking, to nobody in particular, barely louder than a whisper. "Hope that one day, I'll find some peace."

The sound of the back door opening triggers him to dry his tears with the sleeves of his shirt hurriedly. He isn't sure which of the three potential culprits has decided to pay him a visit, but regardless, he doesn't want to show too much negative emotion to them. For a brief moment, he half-expects it to be Casey, but the taller, longer-haired figure that casts a shadow over the grass soon indicates to Michael that it's Laurie.

"What're you doing out here by yourself when the celebration inside is for you, hey?" she asks him.

As she enters his peripheral vision, he glances in her direction as not to appear ignorant. "I just wanted some fresh air. You can go back inside, honestly. It's cold out."

"I have been inside, and I also wanted some fresh air." The mellow smirk on Laurie's face gives away to Michael that she's using his own logic playfully against him, but it doesn't deter her from continuing her story. "And I don't really fancy being inside, when a good friend is sat outside all depressed on his ones."