The Way She Wants It (Michael Jackson FanFiction)

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"What?" I rasp, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. 

"Shit," Michael, sighs, running his hand over his jaw, nervously, "I wasn't supposed to..." he hesitates for a second and I take a seat on the velvet stool in my closet. 

"Michael," I sigh, shaking my head, "Please don't lie to me. If you lie, it's not going to make you look better in the slightest," I tell him, resting my elbows on my knees. I look up to him and his eyes are on mine, sad and sorrowful. 

"I didn't want this to effect the way that you and Steph work together," he sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he steps towards me from the doorway. 

"What do you mean?" I sniffle, wiping my nose, "Why would Steph even tell you that?" 

"She said," he breathes, taking a second to explain, "She said that I was a distraction to you. She said that you didn't like being in relationships because they distract you from your work," he says hesitantly. I can tell he's not telling me everything that he wants to. 

"That was true," I sigh, shaking my head.

"What do you mean?" Michael asks gently, looking at me with concern. 

"I mean, I used to think that was the case," I sigh, "But with you, I was so hung up on whether or not you would call me back or even answer my calls." 

"Really?" He says, a hesitant smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

"Don't let that get to your head," I snap, making any sign of a smile vanish from his face, "I just thought we were different." 

"We are," Michael says immediately, making my brows raise. 

"Clearly we're not," I say softly, making him frown, "If we were different, you wouldn't have listened to Stephanie." 

"That's not how that works," Michael sighs, closing his eyes for a few seconds, "I was just doing what I thought was best."

"Well," I sigh, standing from the stool, "You were wrong." I shake my head, pushing past him to go out into my room. 

"What?" Michael laughs, following me, "I was wrong to do what I thought was best?" he asks in disbelief. 

"Of course," I shrug, a tear slipping from my eye, "You could've at least told me what was going on, or maybe even ended things between us before leaving me hopeful and wanting for two years." I explain, walking out of my bedroom. 

"How was I supposed to know what you wanted me to do?" Michael asks, frustrated, and I can tell he might blow up in a minute or so. 

I'd like to see that. 

"You should've asked," I sigh, going down the stairs with Michael hot on my tail. 

"If I had asked, you would've gotten mad at Steph!" he says in a high pitched voice, trying to justify his decision. I reach the floor under the steps and whip around to him, making him stumble back a bit on the last step. 

"If you had asked, I would be livid with one person. Now I'm livid with both of you." I grit, making him scrunch his nose. 

"That's not what I thought was going to happen," He sighs, rasp in the back of his throat. 

"Okay," I shrug, turning back to make my way to the kitchen. 

Shit, it's a mess in here. There are empty bottles and liquor all over the floor. 

"Okay?" he scoffs as I feel his body heat radiate against my back. That's how close he's fucking walking behind me. This man has never heard of personal space, "That's all you're going to say?"

"That's all I have to say!" I yell, whipping around to him, making him run into me. I stumble backwards, making Michael grab my hand to keep me steady, "Don't fucking touch me!" I scream, ripping my hand from his hold.

"That's not what you were saying when we fucked less then half an hour ago!" he says, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Oh, fuck off," I spit. A grin tugs at the corner of his lip, knowing that I don't have any smart response for what he's said, "I've had enough Michael. I need you to leave." 

"What?" he says sadly, "That's it? You don't want to talk this out?" 

"No," I shake my head, rubbing the bridge of my nose, "You told me why you didn't talk to me for two years, I got what I wanted. You can leave." 

"It can't be that easy," he scoffs, stepping towards me, "You can't just tell me to leave. I know that part of this was my fault," he breathes, looking down at his hands, "But what was I supposed to do?" he asks, looking up to me for an answer. 

"You should've told me, or even told Steph to fuck off. She has no power over you, and she doesn't have power over me either," I grit, feeling myself getting worked up again, "You should've told me, Michael. I waited, and I never fucking wait." 

"I said I'm sorry." 

"I know you're sorry!" I yell, stepping forward, "I know you're fucking sorry! You've said it multiple times, but that's not good enough! You should've been there!" I continue to scream as tears start streaming down my face, and a tear slips from Michael's eye, "You should've fucking been there! I missed you! I wanted you! And you left me with nothing!" I cry, getting closer to him, still keeping eye contact. 

"Abby," he sighs, shaking his head. 

"You have to leave," I cry, my chest heaving close to his, "I need you to leave. You have caused me nothing but pain. I thought that..." I hesitate to say what I've already said, but is too over emphasized, "Please leave." I sob, staring into his eyes. He reaches out to hold my face in his hands, wiping my tears with his thumbs, "Please go," I plead, removing my face from his hands. 

"Abby," he chokes, wiping his eyes, "I love you." 

"You should've told me that two years ago," I sniffle, "Leave, Michael." 

"Okay," he sighs, taking a step towards me, "I'll leave," he nods, suddenly pulling me flush to his chest, taking my breath away, "But I want you to know that I will never stop trying to gain your love, Abby Westbrook. You make me better, and I know I do the same to you. What happened over these past couple of years was wrong, I know. I'm at fault, but I'm trying to make it better. I shouldn't have done what I did, but what's done is done. I will never stop trying to pursue you because I'm in love with you, and I know you're in love with me." he says lovingly, staring into my eyes. He leans into me, kissing the corner of my mouth, "I love you, babe. See you." 

And with that, he walks out of my kitchen, and I hear the door close, making me sink to the floor in tears.