tabloid junkie (Michael Jackson)

February 10ᵗʰ ─ 12:30 ᵖᵐ

I burst into Michael's hospital room, he was just wrapping his robe on, I imagined if I had arrived a moment late I'd have witnessed him naked. I shook away that thought and shut the door behind me.

Michael swiveled around, shock in his eyes. He looked beyond embarrassed and surprised. "Diana? What the heck are you doing here?"

I would be lying if I said I wasn't hurt by the tone my name was used in, but I tried to ignore that and crossed my arms over my chest.

"What's going on with you?" I asked, drumming my hands on my arms.

Michael shrugged and walked over to the bed, where a button-up red shirt and black pants were sprawled out on. He was probably headed for a shower before I came barging in. "What do you mean?"

"Michael..." I sighed. "You told me you loved me, and now..."

I watched Michael, angry at him until I realized he was cringing, slowly sitting on the bed as if one mistake would kill him. Then I remembered the intensity of his injury and decided to take it down a notch.

"I'm sorry, Diana, my doctors seem to keep reminding me of un-confirmable, tragic memory loss." I can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not.

"Really? You don't remember telling me-" I slowly walked forward.

"No, Diana. I don't remember confessing my forbidden feelings for you." I shrank back at the sharpness of his tone. My heart being sliced.

"Forbidden?" I questioned, slowly uncrossing my arms.

Michael laughed a bit, then the laugh became a hiss of pain. "Do you remember that phonecall from you-know-who? The one forcing two lovers apart?"

I remembered, but I didn't know why he was being so snarky about it.

"What's going on? This isn't you." I say, observing him from head to toe.

Michael laughed. "You don't know who I am, Diana."

"Is there something wrong?"

"Other than the fact that I can't trust you anymore? No."

I was taken aback, seriously I was...shocked and surprised.

"W-what..?" I said, hesitant and scared.

Michael sighed, leaning back against the bed, revealing a clean strip of white, pale skin. "Your sister shot me, Diana."

"But.. that wasn't my fault. I couldn't-"

"My own sister was there. You put my entire family in danger." He said in slow words, dripping with fire.

"How was I-?"

"You were supposed to call me, if you knew she was after blood. My blood." He stabbed a finger at his chest.

"I did call you!" I screamed. "I risked it all calling you, who knows what Mask could have done, he's evidently tapped into our phones."

Michael looked a mess, his dark hair was stringy and wet, his skin pale like the moon above us. The dark circles underneath his eyes also said a lot about how he was feeling.

"You risked your life, you know that, right? Your sister could have shot you."

"But she shot you! And I'm sorry, I truly am! But there is nothing I can fucking do about that." I shot back instantly, I never imagined we'd ever be fighting. Michael was always so quiet, so sweet. I never knew he'd been holding all this anger inside.

"Okay fine." Michael stood too quickly, too fast. He gasped, doubling over and coughing. I rushed over and put a hand on his shoulder.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" I asked all at once.

"Move." Michael shrugged my hand away and shot me silver daggers with his eyes, I was bewildered. "You are too stubborn, too risky, you don't listen and you sleep around!"

"Sleep around?" I scrunched my eyebrows, it was like talking to a stranger you knew too well.

"You think I'm dumb enough to not know you spent the night at James Bartholomew's apartment. I mean, the tabloid specifically said: DIANA GETS DIRTY IN THE SHEETS WITH LOCAL NEWS ANCHOR JAMES BARTHOLOMEW." He gestured with his hands, a headline.

I stepped back slowly. Truthfully I'd forgotten all about that. "I never read that." I said low, my words dripping with guilt.

"I thought so." Michael gentily sat himself back down on the bed. "And you want to know the worst thing about it?"

"Not really."

He continued on, as if I hadn't spoken. "It was directly after Mask forced us to call it quits. You slept with another man while I couldn't look at another woman without thinking of your face. That's how much I cared."

I wish there was something I could say. "Michael...I'm sorry."

"Don't flatter yourself."

I was hurt by now.

"Maybe...maybe I should go." I turned away, confusion and hurt thrumming through my body. The door ahead of me seemed so far away.

"Yeah, you should." He spoke back, making me rush away.