"I didn't know the rain was purple." Michael looked deeply into Prince's eyes, with crimson cheeks.
"That's until you helped me see it."
|DARLING MIKEY; ORIGINAL STORY|
It all started with an unfortunate accident at the concert of James Brown in 19...
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"Never did I imagine That you would play a major part In a decision that's so hard Do I leave, do I stay, do I go?"
- Donell Jones
✴️
|December 26th, 1986| |Hampton Inn| |Manhattan, New York| |9:00 am|
Prince
I felt a ray of sunshine on my skin, and it was glowing onto my eyes. I stirred, tossing myself onto my left side, trying to block the sun. I open my eyes slightly; I winced, touching my head. My head was pounding very harshly, every sudden move I made with my head was painful and excruciating. I opened my eyes a little bit more, adjusting to the light that was showing throughout the room. Then, I slowly sat up, looking around the room, unaware of my surroundings. I furrowed my eyebrows a bit, trying not to make my migraine worse.
"What the hell?" I said silently to myself.
Where was I? How did I get here? Who brought me here? Why am I in so much pain? I don't remember shit from last night, everything was a complete blur. Thousands of questions ran through my mind, until I heard someone's voice from the corner of the room speak.
"Good morning," The voice said.
I jumped, startled at the voice who spoke from the corner of the room. I winced again, grabbing my head due to the wave of pain I got. I opened my eyes back up from shutting them from the pain, and squinted to see who it was. Once I got a clear view of who it was, I instantly dropped my hand from my head, scoffing in annoyance, shocked that I was sleeping in the same room as him right now.
"What the hell, Michael?" I said in a deep, serious tone. "What the fuck are you doing here?!" I shouted, once again, forgetting that me yelling was only gonna make my migraine get worse.
He rolled his eyes, letting out a yawn, "Good morning to you, too." He replied sarcastically.
"What are you doing in my room? How-" I paused, feeling too confused to even function. Hangovers were the absolute worst, the fact that you wake up the next morning, not knowing what happened the night before, mixed with the aggravating pain, it was just terrible.
"You mean my room?" He corrected, getting up from the couch, walking over and sitting at the edge of the bed, raising his eyebrow. I gave him a dirty look, what the hell was I doing in his room?
"It's also a long story. If you're asking about what happened last night," He stressed, looking like he didn't feel like explaining the whole story to me. Even if he explained, I didn't care. I didn't wanna hear it, I just wanted to get the hell outta' here.
"Quite frankly, I don't want to know." I said, snatching the covers off of me, and put my feet onto the ground. "I'm just gonna leave. Let's just forget this ever happened, okay?"
