Brit808
"Tell me you don't still love me, I'll leave you alone if you can say that." He questioned.
"Mike we're on in forty-five!" I heard a male's voice shout excitedly from behind the door.
The sound of live music surrounded us, as the starting act began, and the impact was felt even on the wall I lay on.
With us standing so close I could see just how much his coloring had changed since the night we met back in eighty-three. Beneath the warm dressing room lights, his skin glowed against the dark curls hanging around his face, and though he was cleanly shaven, faint pores still showed along his jaw where facial hair would've grown. He was lighter now, softer somehow, but no less beautiful. If anything, it made his features seem even more delicate.
For a second his grip slightly loosened giving me enough space to shift just briefly. When he realized I was trying to break free, he refocused and held me just as tightly as before. Though his eyes never left me. I could smell the fresh smell of a shower emanating from his seemingly flawless skin.
"Don't you have a show to get ready for?"
"Not until you say it."
"I don't have to say anything!" I said defiantly.
"Damn it woman! Stop being so damn stubborn!" He yelled frustratedly. It was rare to see Michael so upset, and the extremely rare swear word led me to realize the seriousness of his tone. It was as if my shocked expression caused him to snap out of it.
I watched as he extended his glare towards the paneled ceiling, exposing his veiny neck while doing so.
I contemplated speaking, but decided against it, when he raised his voice it caused a nervous quiver within me. He never did that with me.
Never.
I didn't want to expose the tears that suddenly threatened to fall.
"Can't you see I need you?...I need you."