Forever and a Half || Michael Jackson

Chapter Twenty-Seven - How's The Family?

Chapter twenty-seven – How's The Family?

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-Nine days later-

It's been close to a week and a half since Michael and I officially became a couple, and we've been extremely happy about it. Of course, Michael is still grieving over the loss of his parents, but it's nowhere near as bad as it used to be. I think, in all honesty, that he's gradually learning to live with it ... but it's still hard for him, and that's understandable.

Today we're planning to go to the fields to spend some time there together. Michael's justification for this decision was "It'll be our first time as a couple", so of course, I accepted. Besides, I enjoy the fields in the late Summer time, because they're simply beautiful. Then again, it's Autumn now – but only just.

As of now, Michael and I are sitting at the kitchen table finishing breakfast. Well, I say "Michael and I" – it's more a case of "Michael is waiting for me to finish because he's a quick eater". It amuses me how he says he's watching his weight, yet he doesn't hesitate to eat if he's given the chance. Perhaps the watching-my-weight business is to impress me. It's cute, I guess.

"My God, you take forever," Michael teases, stealing the corner of one of my toast slices. "Why do you eat so slow?"

Swallowing, I give him a mock look of disgust. "I'm sorry; are we in a rush, Michael? Is there somewhere important to go to today?" I ask.

He snickers at my sarcasm. "Meow, somebody's being sarcastic. You know that's the lowest form of wit, right?"

I take the final bite of toast, chuckling at his use of "Meow", before answering. "Your point being what exactly? Don't you like my sarcasm, huh?"

"It just seems strange when you use it. You're normally ... nice." He smirks, biting his lip to suppress laughter.

"Nice?" I repeat his choice of adjective. "So I'm not nice now, huh?" I give a fake pout, folding my arms and giving him puppy dog eyes. "Is Cit-wee-ah not nice enough for My-kull now?"

Giving in, he leans forward to gently peck my cheek. "Of course you're nice. You're better than nice. But the only problem with complimenting you, is that it sounds so sickly and ... I don't want to sound ridiculous."

Standing up from the table, I shrug and take the plates away. "It's nice to have a sickly compliment here and there, though, right?"

"Of course." He helps me to wash the plates and cutlery up in the sink. "But I don't want to go too far within the first two weeks. We have forever and a half to compliment one another, you know."

"Ah, well ... it's not like you'll be doing it often anyway." I place a plate on the drying rack, taking a fork from the sink to rinse under the tap.

"Why not? Is it really that sickly for you?" he questions, his tone concerned-sounding.

"It's not the sickliness I'm on about," I laugh, beginning to dry the dishes. "It's the person you're complimenting. She's not the kind of person to receive compliments really, is she?"

"Anyone can receive a compliment," he answers simply. It's then that he decides to change the subject. "Anyway, let's go to the fields now. We can talk more about life and its beauty—" He pauses to look at me upon the word "beauty", causing me to look away bashfully, "—When we're there."

"Alright." Once I've finished up the dishes, I grab my jacket, as well as Michael's, passing his to him. "Let's get going."

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