The Way She Wants It (Michael Jackson FanFiction)

..64..

"What?" I ask softly, my hands not able to move from his cold face, "Michael, what are you talking about?" 

"You know," he begins, breathing deeply, "You know, I've felt this before. Before Diana died, I thought that someone close to me was going to pass... and then it happened." he swallows, his eyes glossing over as my heart thumps in my chest. 

"Michael," I breathe. 

"I know my time is soon," he chokes, closing his eyes, "I know what I'm doing is bad for myself, but if I'm going to die anyway, then what's the point?" 

"Michael, I can help you," I croak, hot tears running down my cheeks as he shakes his head. 

"No one can help me." 

"You can go to rehab." 

"You don't even know what I'm on." 

"I know you're on something," I reply quickly. He looks down into my eyes before pulling his face from my hands, "And I can help you get off of it." 

"No," he shakes his head, "I don't want help. I know what I'm doing. My time is soon anyways, so what's the point." 

"Your time will not be soon if you get your shit together and drop the drugs." 

"Abby," he snaps, glaring daggers into me, "My head hurts," he sighs, shaking his head, "And I can't sleep. I need the medication to help me sleep." 

"You can go to rehab. They'll help you." 

"No one understands the pain and agony I'm in." 

"I'm trying to," I sigh, looking over him as he takes a few steps away from me. 

"You won't ever be able to understand what I'm going through." he grunts. 

"I know, but I can help you out of this." 

"Abby," he murmurs, looking at me, "I wish you were as cold and emotionless as the media says you are." 

"Why? Because you don't want help?" I scoff and he rubs the bridge of his nose. 

"It's not like that." 

"I'm sure," I laugh painfully, not letting it reach my eyes. 

"I love you," he sighs, and my eyes widen a bit, not sure what he's getting at, "But I don't want you involved." 

"No, you need me involved," I mumble, placing my hands on my hips. 

"You always feel the need to take control," he scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

"Whatever," I smirk, walking around the couch to take a long sip of my water, "You're just trying to push me away." 

"That's what I'm best at, isn't it?" he smirks, and I feel his mood lighten a bit. 

"That's what we're both best at," I sigh, leaning against the couch, "Not knowing what and who we need." 

"Did Janet tell you to come out here?" he asks after a few long minutes of silence. 

"No, why?" 

"Because, she's been worried," he sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose before slowly making his way over to the couch to sit down, and I stay standing, "She knows something is up." 

I watch his demeanour change, yet again, and my heart skips a beat as I stare over his handsome, but withered, face. 

"You've been pushing your family away," I mumble, looking down at him. 

"I've been trying to avoid what you're putting me through right now." he grunts, placing his hands behind his head, "The people closest to me know what's up as soon as they see me. It's hard to hide the truth from those who know you best." 

"And you didn't think I would notice?" 

"Well, I didn't exactly know you were coming out here," he scoffs, making me roll my eyes and I stay standing. 

"You were happy to see me when you found me backstage." I remind him and he looks away. 

"I'm always happy to see you." 

"That's not true." 

"Of course it is," he scoffs, "Even when I hated you, seeing you made my day." 

"Awe," I say, overdramatically, holding my hand to my heart. 

"But it's been so many years," he sighs, ignoring my sarcasm, "I didn't think you'd be so concerned about me right off the bat." 

"Boy, I've been concerned for a while now," I shake my head, looking up at the ceiling 

"How long is a while?" he asks, finally looking up into my eyes. 

"Since the all the allegations started," I sigh, hesitating a bit. He rolls his eyes, shaking his head and I look down at my hands. 

"Abby, I definitely don't want to talk about this." 

"I figured," I murmur, playing at my fingers, nervously, "I can't believe they did that to you." 

"Bee." 

"They just wanted your money. I talked to a few people, and they think so too." 

"Who knows what they wanted." 

"It was the money. 

"Bee," he sighs again, looking up at me, "I don't want to talk about this." 

"I'm sorry," I sigh, a ball forming in my throat. 

"Why? You didn't do anything." he mumbles and I feel his eyes on me. 

"I should've been there." 

"I didn't expect you to be." 

"I'm just sorry, okay?" I say softly, and he nods, looking away.

There are a million questions I want to ask him in this moment. A million questions with a million answers, and if it were up to me, I'd have him sit here and we'd talk through them all. We sit in silence for a while, I couldn't tell you how long, before he speaks. 

"I like your new album," he smiles, lovingly, as he turns his head to look at me. 

"Thanks," I blush, tucking a curl behind my hear as I lean my knees against the couch. 

"It's nothing short of amazing," he grins, and I blush some more. He chuckles, knowing he's one of the only people who has ever had this sort of effect on me. He sits up a bit, and scoots over a bit so that I'm standing between his legs.

"Michael," I sigh, shaking my head and he places his hands on my hips. 

"Your music has stayed as beautiful as you," he sighs, looking up at me with loving eyes. I sigh, placing his hands over mine before looking away. 

"Michael, we shouldn't do this." I mumble and my voice quivers. 

"Why not?" he asks, lifting the bottom of my shirt to kiss across my stomach. 

"We're not together," I breathe as he stands, keeping his hands on my hips as he towers over me. 

"We can always change that." he winks. Before I know it, his lips are covering mine for the first time in twenty years.