Partners In Crime {Michael Jackson & Ariana Grande}

[15]♡stubborn♡[15]

Misty

"I don't give a damn if he knows who I am, where I live and what my weaknesses are. I'm not doing it."

I stood up from the stool and folded my arms.

"What, would you rather die?"

"I'm not doing it. I'm a man that keeps my promises. Well, I did before I met you!"

I rolled my eyes, "You're in too deep to turn back. We don't have a choice."

"Choices! Ah, that's right. You chose to join this lifestyle! Me? I'm being forced. I didn't ask for this! I didn't ask to be kidnapped and tortured! I didn't ask for you to come and wreck my grieving! I didn't ask to like you either!"

It seemed like Michael was the one getting worked up now, but I could see why.

He always seemed to say nice things when he got mad.

"Michael, look-"

"It isn't 'Michael, look' because you're going to say the same thing you always do! I don't want to do this, and you're not gonna make me."

I struggled for a reply.

"Well.. well- fine! You're right. I won't be making you, but whoever does will be doing more than just asking, so that's your own problem!"

And with that I stormed into the kitchen and sat on the same stool I'd always sat in since I got here.

'It isn't my fault. It isn't my fault.' I kept telling myself, until I felt a pair of hands on my back.

"I know it isn't," He said lightly, his voice like a feather, "I just got mad. And I still refuse. But it isn't your fault."

I decided to ignore him and to continue as if he wasn't there.

"Hey," He said, keeping his hands on my back but moving his head around so he was looking at me, "Hey, don't ignore me."

Nothing.

"Misty."

Nothing.

"Okay, fine. If that's how it is, then okay."

He took his hands off of my back and sat two stools away from mine, looking in the same direction I was staring into.

"Look at us," I said, my voice a near-whisper, "Arguing like a couple, already. Hmm? Are we getting bored of each other?"

"Bored?" Michael said, in the same tone I did but a little more emphasised, "I don't know about you, but I certainly am not getting bored. I just want a normal life, that's all."

"Yeah, I'm not bored either," I reassured him, though neglecting the last part of his sentence.

"Misty, are you still mad at me for being mad at you?"

I shrugged, letting him know I was.

"Look at me,"

But I didn't. Because if I did I know what those eyes would do to me. They're like poison.

"Misty, look at me." His tone was deep and serious, quite daunting, but not threatening.

He shuffled over to the stool next to mine, and slightly tugged at my arm so I'd face him. But I still didn't budge.

"Fine. You know, I should leave you to dwell on your own. But I won't."

And with that he turned my entire body around so I was forced to face him, but I kept my eyes closed.