Tell Me You Love Me

If I Don't Know How to Love You

"In some ways, I don't mind that she's gone again. It's just that she never altogether leaves."

-Hawkeye Pierce, M*A*S*H

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Japan was a beautiful, peaceful place, but he couldn't wait to get back to Paisley Park. He wasn't immune to homesickness, after all.

February was slowly dwindling away, and March seemed to be just around the corner. His tour had come to a glorious and triumphant end despite the emotional baggage he had carried on his shoulders through the entire thing. He couldn't even begin counting the hours he spent during his free time listening to Michael's records repetitively just so he could hear the sound of his voice. It was bittersweet; it dragged him even farther down into the dirt but also somehow lifted him high above the stratosphere.

His plane landed in Minnesota close to midnight. As he exited the aircraft, he tilted his head up and looked at the sky. It was, for the most part, pitch black with a few speckles of bright, vibrant light sprinkled throughout its vastness. The moon was full and shining brighter than ever. The moonlight washed over the Earth below it, tinting everything with a silver glow. A few thin clouds corralled around the moon only making the scene even more breathtaking. He felt like his body was absorbing the energy from the light, warming him from his head to the tips of his toes.

It had been a while since he last looked at the night sky. He was always too afraid to because he felt it would plague him with more memories of his romance with Michael. He wished he could forget the whole thing ever happened, but he knew he never could.

He couldn't help but wonder if, in that moment, Michael was staring up at the sky and thinking about him just as he was thinking of Michael. Maybe they were sharing an intimate moment from a distance, but that was too much to hope for.

He averted his gaze from the sky above him and followed his entourage of bodyguards to the building.

The ride back to Paisley Park was quiet, and he kept his eyes on his hands in his lap to avoid looking out the window at the stars again. He couldn't bear to think of his hopeless dreams for Michael's love any longer. He knew he had to get over it; he already wasted the many chances he was given, and he understood Michael removing him from his life. Prince felt like poison, that all he could ever do was hurt people, especially those that he loved.

When they reached the gates of his home, the security guard in the booth informed him that he had a visitor in his house. This infuriated him because he didn't give anyone permission to enter the residence while he was away, and it really steamed his vegetables that the guard wouldn't give him the person's name because they wanted to remain "anonymous." Prince kept a mental note in the back of his mind to fire that guard for being a little fink but not enough of a fink.

As he walked through the house, he cursed under his breath and invented many creative punishments for the intruder, one of which consisted of boiling them in a vat of molten gold so that he could make a statue out of them. That would certainly set an example for anyone who tried to enter his home without consent.

He threw open the door to every room, but he couldn't find anyone. Accepting the possibility that he could be murdered in his sleep, he trudged up to his bedroom. He was too exhausted to search for them any longer, and he didn't really mind the idea of dying. At least it would get Michael off of his mind and keep him out of his head. Can't think if your brain is dead, he thought.