Vivid images of your boyfriend tangled up with a faceless beauty played endlessly in your sleepless mind. Kissing passionately on his couch as you dialed him from your home, over and over again because of a date he had missed earlier that evening. Clothes strewn all over the floor and his strong, beautiful hands looped themselves into different dips and curves of this stranger with the type of real want and need that made you want to keel over. Your eyes opened before they could finally join together, gasping and clutching your chest with a warmth in your sinuses you only felt when you thought you’d be sick. Pulled from a dream so vivid it made you want to crawl outside of your skin, you needed answers.

For two hours you sat in bed with your phone in your hands scrolling endlessly through his Instagram Following. You didn't even care to do it from a private account, you figure if he’s cheating, she knows you anyway. Minutes roll by as you try to find a girl similar to the one you envisioned. Was the hair more black or raven? Maybe it was wig? Did she look tall or short? They were lying down so it was hard to tell. The thoughts all swarmed simultaneously.

“She has to be real, like, I’m telling you there is no way I could think of something that vivid on my own.” You said.

“So you’re clairvoyant now?”

“No, but I’m also not stupid.”

Your friend sighs loudly, shaking her head as she shuffles around her apartment. “I think you just like him so much it’s making you crazy, he’s so sweet I could not imagine him doing you dirty like that.”

“Well I could! I imagined it last night!” You yell, a small laugh escapes as you realize how ridiculous this sounds. Unfortunately, it has now become easier to double down on this than to admit that other deep feeling you have in your chest.

“Girl, call that man and see him today so you can get normal again, I cannot believe you called me for this nonsense.” With that she hangs up in your face, your reflection in the camera the only thing left of the call. The call end gave you new insight to notifications you missed in your spiral.

j <3: Heyyy what time should I head over?

or did you want to come here?

I can pick you up still :)

????

Here he goes. It had long been established he hated to wait on a response from you, the first time you tried to get away with putting off his text he was in front of your door pouting through your peephole (it was just 7 hours). The issue now was you had not figured out the girl you saw in the dream, and if you saw him you would have no material to bring it up. You got sick to your stomach every time you tried to ration with your mind and its fantasies a flash of imagery reappeared. The color of her skin, the way his face looked so relaxed and content. The color that the lights reflected off the walls. The way your Caller ID flashed depressingly on the kitchen island counter, your profile photo left neglected.

You were another layer deeper into your spiral when your phone rang, his name flashing across your screen as you stared blankly in your lap.

You had to answer, you always answered.

“Hello?” The way the word sounded on your tongue sounded strange to your own ears.

“Hey stink,” He says, “I’ve been texting you and you haven’t answered, I was getting worried.”

“Oh.” “....Oh?” He repeats. “I've been missing you, we’re still on for lunch and dinner today.” He wasn’t asking, you had already agreed.

“Yeah, I know. I just woke up feeling terrible today, I’ve been trying to feel normal, I’m sorry I haven’t replied.” You said, finally finding the words that made you sound composed.

“Think you’re sick? I can come over and take care of you, give me 20 minutes.” He immediately sputters out.

“NO! Maj,” You say quickly, “Sorry, I mean I’m okay I just felt bad, like, anxious. Ya know?”

“Oh.” He says dumbfounded. 

“Well, I can still come over for that too, I remember my dad teaching me a few things whenever I felt nervous before talent shows and stuff, they might help.” He was so damn sweet it made you want to grab him through the phone. God why could technology not be so advanced when a girl hears such sweetness from a lover?

“You just want to come over here.” You laugh now, he sounds so ridiculous when he tries to solve your problems but he’s been like that since you started dating him. You could tell him a singular pore on your face feels funny and he’ll bring a magnifying glass to carefully examine and prod at it for you, just so you don't feel crazy.

“I do.” He replies easily, “Let me come over and we’ll figure it out.” You were supposed to be angry at him and say no. So you did.

“Maj, I’m really not up for it today, can we please reschedule for when I feel a bit better?” AKA when I find the girl from my dream and can properly accuse you of seeing her behind my back.

“Sure thing.” He sighs before you hear the chime of the line cutting dead.

He just hung up on you.

~

You hear a knock at your door 15 minutes later, thinking surely it cannot be the man you just spoke to.

“I told you no.” You say as you open the door wide, foot catching the bottom like a door stopper as you reveal your same pajamas from hours earlier.

“Yeah but you sounded so sad I couldn’t leave you alone like that.” He responds, “I had to at least see you, you never ignore my texts.”

“I was ignoring them on purpose,” You say. “Because I know what you’ve been doing.” Your finger points weakly in his direction as you turn around, walking further into your home.

“What….have I been doing?” He sounds so unsure you almost want to act as if you never said anything.

“That other girl you’ve been seeing, I saw it and I know.” “...Baby, what are you talking about?” He laughs in disbelief this time.

“Don’t laugh at me,” You turn to look him in the eyes as you speak, “I saw it.”

“I have never been with anyone else when I’ve been with you, I know that for a fact so what could you be referencing?” “In my dream, Jermajesty, I saw it. You were with one of those girls you follow and you were ignoring my calls and I woke up feeling like shit because of it and now I can’t feel normal for the life of me today because it’s in my head.” You speak quickly, trying desperately not to shout but feeling the volume increase with each word.

You stare at each other for a few seconds, his wide brown eyes staring into your own and you hate how sweet they stare into you. This is exactly why you didn’t want to see him in person, one look and you feel the calm of the storm. Anger completely diminishes in his gaze, he feels you with a certain type of  bliss you only find deep and plush in the dead of night. Sleeping soundly in a safe place, rest here behind these.

“This is coming from a dream you had last night?” He asks, clearly exasperated. “Baby, you’re not serious.”

“See that’s exactly something a person who is guilty as fuck would say.” You respond, turning back around and walking further into your living room. His grating, irritating laugh echoes through your foyer as he follows quickly behind you.

“You ignored me because of a dream you had last night? You’re too young for the esoteric grandma thing.” “Oh shut up! It’s not funny,” You stomp at him. “I just know you follow this girl and, okay, maybe it wasn’t a current vision, but it’s probably somebody you were with before and she, like…wants you back, or something.” He laughs again.

“Why would it even matter if somebody wanted me back? That has nothing to do with us.” He responds. He approaches you gently, like a sweet child would with a critter in the yard. Quiet with the determination to see if he can make a friend out of the anxiety bubbling in between.

“So, in theory, there’s somebody you have in mind that would want you back.” You conclude, moving your shoulder away as he reaches towards you.

“You’re impossible.”

He grabs you anyways, arms enclosing around your waist as his lips reach toward your forehead. “My baby, how could I ever do something like that to you?” He chastises you sweetly.

“It happens every day. Jay-Z did it to Beyoncé, I know how.” You reply instantly.

“Okay, you are my Beyoncé but I am not Jay-Z. I would never and you know that,” He says, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “I cannot believe I got ignored over a dream.” “It would’ve lasted longer if you hadn’t shown up here like a psychopath.” You say, you tilt your head to glare at him and he kisses one of your eyelids in response.

“Trynna look all mean, you don’t scare me.” He giggles.

“I literally was planning how to cave your roof in, I cannot lie.” You say.

“I thought I was a psychopath?” He asks sarcastically, “I’m obsessed with you, what else do you need?”

“You should want to live in my skin.”

“Done.”

You giggle finally, the first laugh you’d felt authentically the whole day. The feeling in your stomach  from earlier completely dissipated. The sweetness he provided went straight to your veins, syrupy sweetness vibrating throughout your whole mind and body crafting a feeling only heaven could feel. He made you want to complain about your problems so he could soothe you and forget about them so he could kiss you all at once.

“Your following list is abysmal though, and you can’t call me crazy for pointing it out.”You finally say, it was one of the smaller issues you had with him for the day.

“You can unfollow whoever you want,” He responds, his phone sliding onto your chest, “Here.” “That’s not what I mean!” You laugh at how ridiculous the compromise is.

“But if that’s what you want, you can.” He says, he sighs into the top of your head before pushing your bodies slightly apart to look at your face again.

“What do I have to do to make that nightmare go away? It sounded awful.” He sounds genuine when he asks, no longer keeping the playful tone in his voice.

“I needed to see you, I didn’t realize how much of a difference that could make.” You admit, “I would love a new bag, though.” His head throws back with the laugh that escapes him, cheeks turning a slightly warmer brown as the seconds go by.

“I’ll get you some shoes to go with it, too.”

“Oh, you’re obviously the sweet angel to the evil Maj in my dream last night.”

“I can be sweeter.” He reaches down to kiss you fully on your lips, mouth traveling to tug on your bottom lip before he pulls away.

“Nice try, but you’re not getting anything today. That dream really was awful!” You say. He pouts at you, groaning as his face drops.

“Girl, get in the car since you want a wholesome day then. Got yourself worked up and now I’m getting punished.” He mumbles the last part to himself as he lets go and turns to start working towards the front door.

“What was that?” You ask out loud.

“I love you, please come and get in my car!” He calls with his back turned, you can tell he’s sporting that same mischievous face as he walks, hearing it in his voice as he speaks.

“Well, it’s not like that.” he quickly clarifies, “We were planning the rollout and what to do and I remembered Brooke asking, she has a new movie coming out so I thought it’d make sense.”

“So, my boyfriend is the one who decided he didn’t want to be seen with me out in public.” You speak the last part under your breath, finally turning your back on him as you decide to walk into your bedroom. You can’t tell if the words you’ve said have truly settled into your mind yet. You suppose they haven’t, the hurt of it all isn’t in you but you know it’s coming. The movements in your body don’t even feel natural, moving from corner to corner trying to figure out what you want to do next. You hear his steps behind you but you don’t think about them.

“That’s not at all what’s happening and it’s not fair to suggest that.” He sounds so stern now, “I can’t take you to that event, baby, it’ll just shift the focus to our relationship and you won’t be able to live how you living now. Everything will change if you show up on my arm.” Your back is still turned, trying anything to listen and feel the words he’s speaking authentically. Nothing in your background could prepare you for a moment like this. His true display of celebrity status and power, a shiny new date to the biggest night of his life. A girlfriend who has to watch at home and wait for him when the camera feeds finally cut off. Will he think about you once during the ceremony? Would he thank you in a speech when he won? Would he have the decency to keep a distance when they took pictures together? What would the next day be like? Would this be the last time he would do this? Or would he do it again? Different girl. Different night. The same pitiful feeling that you’re being disrespected is settling deep in your stomach.

“Hey…” he whispers, you feel a warmth on your right shoulder, his hand. “Say something, I wanna know what you think.” Think. This triggers the hurt you subdued, a familiar heat simmers into your sinuses, you’re going to cry. 

“I think I can’t be here right now.” you say, your voice remains stable as you say it.

“What’s that mean?” he asks quickly, he sounds a bit panicked and you can feel that energy heighten in the room.

“I don’t know, Michael, I’m just upset and want to be alone for a while.” you say honestly, you finally turn around to look at him again. His eyes shine back into your distraught ones, searching desperately for another emotion you might be harboring. 

“Okay, that’s fine.  I can go into another room for a bit.” he concedes, hands raising to show you his palms in surrender. 

“No, like I cannot be here and we need some time physically apart from each other. Fully.” you say, “Before I say or do anything I’ll regret.” His head already begins to shake as you speak, eyes shifting towards the door. You ignore him, deciding to turn again and grab a small bag from the closet.

“If anyone leaves, let it be me, I can’t run you out the house, that’s not right.” he says. 

You ignore him, settling on the few things you want to take with you to your parent’s home. You begin your trek out the house, sliding easily past him as he follows behind you. You can see the battle in him, trying to decide how hard to push you into staying. Is it worth making you more upset? Would it be selfish?

“If you don’t want me to take Brooke, I won’t take her.” he finally states to you at the front door.

“You’re only saying that because I’m leaving, I don’t ever want you to make a decision that doesn’t come from your own heart.” you say, “You want me to wait on you like your fangirls but I have feelings too and this is too much for me.”

With that you walk further into the yard, eyes set on Bill as he fakes interest in the paper in front of him. “Bill, can I please bother you for a ride to my home?” you ask him softly, the tears you had suppressed finally spilling out as you looked at the man in front of you.

“Of course,” he replies easily, hands sliding to the backseat and nodding at you to hop in. Before he shuts the door, Michael holds it open, leaning into your space as he tries to make eye contact with you. Everything today feels so unlike him, even the way he has upset you has you stunned.

“Baby, please, I’m sorry.” You don’t even know what he’s begging for, but you know you can’t do what he wants. Your head falls into your hands as another cry slips out, one of his hands reaches to hold onto your arm but you pull away.

“Please.” you plead with him to close the door and leave you in peace. You feel his presence a few seconds longer before the door closes quietly. Time moves slow as you sit hunched over in the car.

Time moves slow when you’re apart too. He has called every day since you’ve been gone, and you always answer. A few questions passed between the two of you, the conversation that started this war never brought again to the table. Instead, it sits abandoned deep in the words and questions you actually speak out loud. He tells you he’s not sleeping well, you aren’t either, but you won’t admit it. Sometimes he calls late into the morning from his studio, so he knows you’re not sleeping well when you answer. A week into this, you’re surprised to get a phone call and not hear your soft-spoken lover on the other end.

“Sorry?” you ask, stunned.

“Me and you have a problem. It’s Quincy.” His voice is rough as he repeats himself. You’re silent for a few seconds before you hear him laugh, a full, deep, belly laugh. “I’m just messing with you, girl. God, you sound so serious.”

“Q, I didn’t even know you knew my number,” you respond too honestly.

“It’s the only number we have posted in our studio, not hard to remember at all.” He dismisses the thought of your perceived insignificance quickly, “Anyways, I’m hearing you and Lover Boy going through something right now.”

“Well, yeah? What he tell you?” you ask, sitting up in the chair you were carelessly lounging on before Quincy’s disruption.

“He ain’t told me nothing. He’s been moping every session we’ve had this week and he keeps whispering when he calls you. Not to mention, y’all only on the phone 10 minutes at a time and that’s never how it was before.”

“Ask him about Brooke, that should tell it.”

“Oh, it’s over that lady? I knew it’d cause a problem, but I didn’t know it’d get this bad.” Quincy exhales on the other line, “I told him it wouldn’t fly well with you, but he can get so naïve at times.” “It hurt my feelings.” you finally admit out loud. The words coming out that pressed hard against your heart finally into the open air. It feels so good to finally have somewhere to get that weight off, even if it is in your boyfriend’s colleague.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, it ain’t right.” he soothes you, “I called to see if I could fix whatever y’all fighting about but this one might be above me.”

“What’s worse is he told me he wouldn’t go with her but I don’t want to look crazy. I don’t want them to go together but I don’t want to stop him if that’s what he wants to do.” There is a long pause between this vent and his next words. “Tell you what, why don’t you just come with me?” Quincy says.

“What do you mean?” “I mean, I am also nominated and will be there. You could be my date, keep your eye on the kid if you want to. You’d get to celebrate with us too.”

“I don’t think Michael wants me there, Q. That seems like it’d upset him.” “He ain’t had no problem upsetting you. Michael don’t know what he want when it doesn’t come to music or dancing, don’t take everything he does so seriously.”

“I’m just scared that if I do too much, we won’t come back from it.” “Blame it all on me and let it be. I’ll tell him to get you a dress as an apology, and you just wear that for the night. Let me handle it, I need both of you normal to get my work done.” With that the line cuts, you hear the dial ring, and you’re left in your solitude. Hands clutching tighter onto the phone as you think.

The package arrived on your door step four days later, two days before the Grammys. He had scribbled a note on the inside, a small drawing of a bouquet and a doodle of your eyes under it.  

I’m sorry, I love you.

Very simple, you could see something crossed out above it and you noted to ask what first came to mind as he wrote. Unwrapping the gift was heavenly. Inside was a vanilla, ice-cream dream slip dress with lace embroidered cut outs, simple and gorgeous. When you moved the box you caught a twinkle, reaching in to reveal a pair of diamond earrings. He could be so extravagant when he felt like spoiling you, it almost turned your heart into feeling guilty when you remembered this would be your debut look on Quincy’s arm. You shook the thought away since you were not doing this out of spite. Quincy asked you a favor, and you obliged.

You tried the dress on for one of your close friends, Mary, gaining her feedback on what shoes to wear.  She decided she would style your hair, pretty curls to frame your face (because he loved that style on you the most).

“He might forget what he’s doing when he sees you like this,” Mary says. “I just cannot believe you’re going out with Quincy Jones.”

“It wasn’t my idea, and I have no idea how Michael will react. You know, he can get so possessive.” You finally admit. It wasn’t a masculinity thing with him, it was a matter of belonging. He always liked to know where he stood, how stable and strong it was, and if there were any cracks he needed to be aware of. Striving to be the best in all areas was his fixation and this included being your partner.

“I think you’ll be just fine.” Mary laughs, “Now let me try this lash on you and see if I like it more than the other ones.”

The different limos didn’t feel so necessary, nor did holding the arm of Quincy as you walked onto the carpet to enter the building. 

“Oh, you look like a babydoll.” He complimented as soon as he saw you, you had to swat him from pinching one of your cheeks.

“You think so?” You smiled at him, feeling ten times more relaxed.

“You don’t need that from me; you know it’s true. He picked a pretty dress.” You hope he also thought so when he saw you minutes later.

You had arrived before Michael and would spend some time without seeing him, he had to take many pictures before the ceremony started. He was the most anticipated artist of the night, after all. You fidgeted with Quincy’s cuff at one point, eyes darting around the room as you both waited for your full party to arrive. “There’s no need for all that, right now,” he grabbed at the hand fiddling his sleeve, “It’s just Mike.”

Easy to say when you’re Quincy Jones and not his pathetically adoring girlfriend. The feeling of being perceived as silly rushes through you and you feel even worse than before. Being reduced to a little puddle of pity was not how you wanted to spend your night, so you took a deep breath in. It didn't take long for pictures and questions to be started up with the two of you. "Who's this lady on your arm? What is she wearing? Is this the muse behind the music?" It felt so ridiculous when you knew the truth of your connection to Quincy, but it felt nice to have others be so curious about yourself. Camera flashes came with you posing beside him with a soft smile, you didn't think much about the consequences this would have later on.

After a few photos you both begin walking further into the music hall. You take another deep breath to calm your nerves. Right on time of your exhale you feel Q straighten up.

“There’s the man!” His voice is boisterous as he waits for Michael to approach him. Your eyes lift to look for yourself at the Man. His glasses glared under the lights, but you still strained your eyes to look underneath them. There was no need to see if he’d acknowledge you since he approached you first, as if he heard Quincy’s words come from your mouth.

“You’re here.” He smiles gently, a restraint shown in how his hand lifts but settles down as he remembers the last time you allowed him to reach for you. 

“Q asked if I’d be his date tonight, so I said yes.” you reply suddenly breathless, that needy feeling sinks in again, “Give me a hug.” You order and he eagerly obliges. Before you even finish the command, his arms come out to hold onto you, left arm sliding down to the bottom of your spine where it's meant to be.

“I really did not expect this, you look so beautiful,” He says finally, you exhale a second time. Those seemed to be the magic words for you to almost forget what you were fighting about in the first place. "The reporters outside asked me about Quincy's date and I had no idea." Here you can finally hear the slight irritation in his voice. You snort before composing yourself in his arms.

"They asked if I'm the muse of the album tonight. Quincy's muse." you whisper quietly, deciding to rub it in further.

“And, who might this be?” From behind your man's very broad shoulders you see her face, peaking mischievously at you but clearly speaking to Michael only.

“Oh, Brooke, yes, this is who I was telling you about earlier.” He lets go of you to turn to her and speak, nodding gently in your direction.

“Your special friend?” she repeats, referencing an earlier conversation.

“Something like that,” he quickly passes off. Not his girlfriend. Quincy clears his throat beside you, a nudge to fix your face.

“And are you his girlfriend?” you ask her in jest. Michael calls your name quickly, he very rarely corrected you but this was out of character. It was so difficult to avoid being catty at this very moment, you were tired of this silly game he kept throwing you in. Brooke laughs at this, rolling her eyes before shaking her head, “Michael, she’s fine. He invited me as a favor to me, I just asked.”

“He’s so charitable that way, you know?” you ask rhetorically, looking him and his stupid sunglasses in the face. You're suddenly so annoyed you could throw him.

“Honey, I think we should find our seats or get a drink. Or both.” Quincy tugs at you from behind. 

“Wait—it’s just....I’m sure you could sit with us, we could move some things around,” Michael also tugs on you, his larger hand enveloping itself onto one of your wrists.

“Michael, I’m here with Q. I don’t want to be rude,” You blink at him innocently, this time you can see his eyes clearly underneath the shades. They’re so sad and beautiful, it’s so difficult to be mean to him. That’s exactly why you immediately look away. “You’re here with Brooke, have fun.” You know you don’t mean it when you say it and you know he knows what you truly mean. Like a spell bound to your tongue that only lets you speak the beauty in the venom you intend; "have fun" means be careful. You part first, craving his eyes set on the back of your dress and how beautifully it truly fits on you.

“I want a glass first, Q.” You smile up at him and he laughs.

“Well, let’s get right to that then,” Off you go.

The night is endless and glamorous. It feels difficult to stay mad by the first win, a loud squeal escaping your lips as his name is called. Each win feels like the first, his gentle speaking voice filling the room making you more and more relaxed. Endless praises come from his lips, the shyness increasing the more he is called to stage, a bit of you begins to wonder if he’s set out on mentioning you tonight. Quincy bounces around the room, especially during the breaks, so you spend a lot of time by yourself. Staring around the room and looking at all the Stars you’ve only seen in papers and on television. Seeing them fawn over your man and nobody knows it’s your man. Or nobody knows you’re his girl. Feels scandalous on its own and maybe, for a split second, you think he was right. Could you manage living like this month after month for the rest of your life? Maybe you wouldn’t even be together that long.

On his seventh win his smile overtakes you, that anger has slowly melted away all night and all you want to do now is kiss him. Such a shame what somebody that brilliant can get away with and what they can do to the mind. You think. I’d let him do anything if he kept smiling like that. You’re so enthralled you completely miss his sly mention of you before he exits the stage, Quincy repeats it in a mocking tone to you, nudging your shoulder.

“Special shoutout to my heart, this wouldn’t be possible without you.” How clunky and odd it sounded wasn’t lost on you, maybe you could forgive him.

Then came the afters, the photos, the hand-holding. Brooke and Michael this, Brooke and Michael that, he was parading her around town like she was his ninth Golden Statue. This was the second party you had arrived at and you were getting sick of it. By the next hour of photos, you started getting irritated by Quincy’s presence beside you. It felt like he was your chaperone. The bliss from earlier pummelled down into your feet, your feet felt too big for your shoes, all that sadness pooling in them made the pinches in the heels hurt worse.

Here they were giggling like children in each other’s ears, a bit of his makeup showing up on her shoulder was the real final straw.

“I think I’m ready to call it a night, Q.” You turn to the man beside you. He looks you in the face, noting the haziness in your eyes. 

“Well, we were supposed to be out all night, this a little early.” he replies, eyes darting towards Michael and Brooke a few feet away. “Maybe talk to Lover Boy, see what he say.”

You absolutely do not want to. The five drinks you had been served during the night say otherwise.

“Michael,” you call from your distance. His head turns instantly, swinging in your direction, pulling you towards him with his attentiveness. “I’m ready to go.” you say it in the loudest, brattiness tone you can manage. Crazy girlfriend allegations be damned, you have a right to make your claim.

His lip twitches a bit before he ducks his head, turning slightly towards Brooke and whispering in her ear before sliding his hand away from her and taking careful steps in your direction. It feels like eons before he stands closely in front of you, lips in a straight line as he ponders the next sentence about to leave his lips.

“Pardon, baby?” He’s testing you.

“I said I am ready to leave. I’m tired, my feet hurt, and want to go to bed.” you say. Feeling a bit manipulative your hand reaches up to his waist, lightly grasping the side and rubbing up and down.

“Are you coming home with me?” He asks softly,  “You not mad anymore? Quincy boring you?” So he thinks this is funny.

“I’m still mad. But I’m coming home with you.” you reply, “Quincy was more a gentleman than you’ve been today.”

His lips tighten at that, a sigh escaping his lips as his head turns lightly in the direction of his producer before pulling his glasses up onto his forehead.

“I told you I wouldn’t bring her if you wanted.” he reminds you, as if you could forget his beg for forgiveness in lieu of permission.

“Don’t talk too loud or somebody might hear you,” you mock him, he scoffs.

“That’s not funny, I’d kiss you right now in front of all these people, if that’s what you wanted.” he says to you. His big eyes softened a bit as he stared at you, daring you to dare him back. 

“Or would your date get mad about that? He’s a Grammy Winner tonight too, you know?” he asks slyly. 

“That’s not fair, you’ve been parading your date around this entire night.”

“And you’ve been all over yours tonight too, why would you even agree to come with him instead of just asking to come with me? You gonna be in a paper with him by morning.”

“I shouldn’t have to ask you for things like that, Michael. I’m your girlfriend.” you admonish him, “Or am I? I can’t tell anymore. Quincy and I have already gone public, anyways.” This brings a nasty expression out onto his face, you realize you've never seen him frown before this moment. “Don’t say things like that. And stop calling me Michael, you know I hate when you do that.” his lip goes upwards in disgust as he states it. “It’s always angel or bunny or baby, maybe Mike, but you know I can’t stand Michael from you. If you’re trying to get me to feel the way you felt then it worked, you don’t gotta continue.” This seems to be what he has been holding in this whole evening, words vomited all at once as he gets closer and closer to your face. His tone is so quiet when he speaks, still uncomfortable at the thought of others seeing how upset he is.

You had barely put him through anything of what you truly felt but hearing he suffered a bit did make you feel better. You can unpack that later.

 “If you want me to leave with you I suggest you cut it out with Brooke, and anyone else, from here on out.” you say after a few seconds.

“Okay.” he replies. He looks you in the eyes a little longer and you know what the look means. You nod once, so he reaches down to press a kiss to the tip of your nose. You want him to kiss you all over. This is already a long night.

He puts his glasses back over his eyes, turns away from you and walks to Brooke. She’s speaking to a few of the press as he approaches, turning to involve him in the conversation before he raises his hand to decline speaking. He wants everything to be Off Record, though it never is.

You try to read his lips but to no avail, you see Brooke deflate a bit before she looks at you. You have no shame so you don’t look away, she manages a half-smile (more similar to a scowl) before looking at Michael again.

He quickly scurries from her side, hands reaching towards you before his body follows. You’re surprised with the embrace, a kiss pressed to your head that coincides with the flash of a camera somewhere in the distance. “I’ll take you home, I don’t feel like partying no more.” He whispers into the top of your curls.

Hayvenhurst is silent when you get there. You suppose the wins made the family go out and celebrate amongst themselves. Perhaps, they thought, Michael would be wherever they chose to celebrate. Instead he’s humming through the foyer, jacket thrown over the couch before he walks to the fridge to pull the “Special Ice Cream" he bought for this very occasion out.

“You know, I had a vision like this last week,” he says. “You were here and we celebrated only 5 wins together. This is even better than what I imagined.”

You hum in response, feeling the exhaustion of the fight peek out over your tongue.

“Was Brooke in the vision?” You cannot help yourself.

You see his hand falter as he reaches for the scooper before he catches himself. “I’m really sorry about that, I did not realize how much it’d upset you before I did it.” He avoids the petty question altogether.

You don’t know if it's the alcohol, the silence, the earlier confrontation, or the honest apology that prompts the tears. Regardless, they flow and all you hear is the drop of metal as your eyes blur into oblivion.

“Baby, don’t cry.” He quickly brings his hands to your face to wipe the tears. 

“It just feels like you’re embarrassed of me when stuff like that happens.” You cannot stop the whine that comes from your mouth. You feel so ridiculous but you cannot stop the honesty from coming out. You must remind yourself to never drink this much again. His presence makes you so sensitive, you want to say everything on your mind all at once just to see what he’ll reply with. To see how he’ll comfort and soothe you too.

“I could never be embarrassed of you. It was stupid, I shouldn’t have done that.” He wants to reassure you so badly, he’s starting to fight with himself. “I’ll do anything you want me to so I can make up for it, I’ll put your picture as my next album cover.” This brings a laugh out of you; he always found the silliest thing to say that could make you laugh. 

“I want you to stop going out with other celebrities.”  you finally admit out loud. “No more hugging and kissing photos, and I want you to say you are not single.” He nods as you speak, carefully taking in every word before smiling softly at you.

“I can do that, if that’s what being a good lover to you means.” he says, “I think I need to shed that single boyish image too. It’d be good to be taken more seriously.” You don’t mind if he’s just saying it to make you feel better, it does the trick.

“How you want me to make it up to you?” He pulls away to look you in the eyes as he asks, lips jutting out to mirror the expression on your face.

“I think you know how.” You say instantly, you flutter your lashes a little extra before moving your hands down onto his hips, “A new necklace.” You joke.

“I’ll clear the jewelry store for you, no question.” He joins in on your fun, his own hands moving to your waist and pulling you impossibly closer to his lower body. The low light and his soft tone take hold of your mind, it feels like a compulsion when your lips reach for his collarbone, pressing your pretty pink lip gloss to his brown skin.

You kiss him again, hands reaching up to his shoulder blades as you go higher to his neck. His hands clench onto you, a loud sigh escaping his lips as you get closer to the one spot you know he loves. “Baby,” he says. You wait for him to continue but he hums instead, head tilting up to give you better access. 

“I never gave you a proper congratulations, I’m very proud of you bunny.” You finally admit to him, the words spoken on his neck like they’ll be permanently etched into his skin.

“Oh, thanks really, we can celebrate tomorrow,” he replies, suddenly breathless.

With this he reaches down to press a full kiss to your lips, one of his hands reaching up to the back of your head to tilt it closer and closer to his mouth. He kisses so harshly, not at all with his usual softness. Kissing him is always so much fun, his lips fit perfectly and they move real eager-like. Pillowy soft and sweet to taste, you can’t help the sigh that escapes when you finally open your mouth to his. Your hands reach into his hair as the kiss deepens, one of his legs moves to stabilize both of yours on him. The friction electrifies you, a moan escaping your mouth as he kisses down onto your jaw. 

“Bunny,” you call. He mumbles a ‘what’ on your jaw. “We should….I think we should go to our room.” It takes a moment to process this, but he pulls away with hazy eyes. A small smirk on his face, flushed pink and rosy. You can tell he’s out of it.

“What you trynna do with me up there?” He feels like teasing you.

“Boy, that’s not even funny, come take care of me or you can sleep with Muscles tonight.” You’re already trotting up the stairs as you call to him. His boisterous laugh echoes through the high ceilings, his light footsteps running behind you before he catches up and lifts you by your waist on his side.

Laughing all the way to the door, he kicks it open and closes it. You hear the lock as you jump onto the bed, laying down in your pretty Chinese silk masterpiece that is surely about to be ruined.

© luvsicklamb

Your lips jutted out into a pout as you thought about his words. It was true, since this first year you have been together you have not spent more than two days apart. Worse, on the days you did not see each other you spoke on the phone at least once. The secluded beach house on the edge of the world offered no phone he could access whilst you were away.

“You and your brothers are going on tour soon, maybe this will be good practice for us since we’ll be apart longer come fall.” You said. You smiled to lessen the blow, but it didn’t do much to stop his shoulders from sinking.

“I don’t want to think about that right now, I’m already upset as is.” He waves off the thoughts with one of his hands, sitting down on the foot of your bed.

“Baby, really! We need to be realistic and we need to see how it is. It'll make it easier and we can see what does and doesn’t work and apply it for tour.”

“On the days you won’t come only, right? Because you promised to come to as many cities as possible.”

“Yes, yes I mean that! I will be there so often, but when I’m not we need a routine.”

He nods his head slowly before looking up at you with a small smile, “You know I cannot ever, ever say no to you,” He sighs, “I guess that includes when you want to leave me too.”

 He was so upset when Bill drove you to the airport. Holding your hand in his and rubbing both of his thumbs on the backs. Occasionally he’d lift it to kiss it, pursing his lips and pouting before dropping your hand down again. After the talk in your apartment he kept most of his woes to himself, staring longingly at you from the side like it’d make the separation less real. The grief he was anticipating was too much to bear, suddenly finding himself with the hopelessness you’d only find in a small, sickly little animal far off in the world.

“Baby, I just don’t like that I cannot reach you.” He complained.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“But I still want you to have fun so I’ll stop complaining. I don’t want to ruin your playtime.” He said. You smiled, feeling relief as you finally arrived at the gate. He set you off with a few kisses to the face, breathing in your scent once last time before kissing your forehead and shooing you off.

By the time you had gotten back on Sunday night you were beyond exhausted. In a moment of need you rebooked a slightly earlier flight. You felt too impatient to call and see if anyone was available to fetch you, so you hailed a taxi from the airport and made your way to the Hayvenhurst home in a daze.

Your vacation was pure fun, the weather was perfect and the food was excellent. Everyone had a grand time full of all the beauty a beach town had to offer. You had matching seashell jewelry, got tarot readings done by a Crystal Lady in the morning (Michael and your compatibility was excellent and longlasting, let her tell it), meditated in the serene waters, but nothing felt quite as good as being home with your baby. With each hour passing you regretted insisting on how crucial this trip was for your health as a couple, you were down on your heart in ways it’s never felt before. Worn down and sad, love sick like a hurricane was barreling through your intestines into your bones.

When the girls flirted with the idea of using the last day as a rest day you jumped at the opportunity to go home early. You loved them dearly, but you knew real rest couldn’t be achieved here.

You jammed your hand into your purse, looking for the cool hardness of your keys. When you found them, you twisted it in immediately, swinging the door open as soon as you heard the click.

“Baby?” You called into the foyer.

You dropped your bags on the floor as you walked in, deciding a full embrace was far more important than whatever your luggage would withhold from you.

An animated film played silently on the TV as you walked into his game room, eyes scanning around before they landed on the man slumped over in the loveseat closest to the wall.

You giggle as you walk closer, reaching a hand out to shake his shoulder with a soft, “Bunny.”

His big brown eyes opened slowly, unfocused and hazy as he stretched one arm over his head. He stared at you in confusion for a second before shooting up onto his feet, “Oh, did I miss the time to come get you?” He says in a groggy voice.

Before you can answer him his arms swallow you up into his chest. First his hands rub on your sides, then on your waist, then up to your neck, before slithering up to your face. He slides them back down, settling on the tops of your thighs as he smiles. The fatigue you felt earlier loosened itself out with every touch, he had that effect that made the sharpest pains feel numb.

“Oh my god, I missed you so much.” He says easily, “Please don’t tell me I missed picking you up?” He asks again. You shook your head quickly.

“I changed my flight and came home early.” You admitted sheepishly, “The girls were mostly napping today and I wasn’t sleeping that good so I told them I’d leave early.”

His eyes crinkle up a bit and a deep flush appears on his cheeks as he listens to you speak. His eyes are filled up with so much adoration it starts to make you shy so you look at his lips instead. Though you haven’t said it back he relishes in that feeling; you missed him just as bad as he missed you. There was no denying that, he can see it in the ways your eyes take his own eyes in. Wild, happy, relieved all at once, the shyness only creeping in as an afterthought when you remember an old thing called shame.

“Can I have a kiss?” You ask sweetly and he immediately leans down to peck at you.

His hands find themselves back onto your face under your chin, tilting your head closer to his as he presses another kiss to your waiting lips.

“I missed you so much, seriously. I do not know how I survived that.” He says.

You laugh, “You are so dramatic, I just know you spent all this free time away from me working without my distraction.”

“But I love your distraction and without it I get seriously distracted. I feel like a true fool walking ‘round here without you to call on me.” He speaks quickly, it seems the time spent away has given him time to really articulate this feeling.

“Baby, all I could do when I was out was think about how much you’d enjoy everything I ate, and said, and did, Lena had to stop me from taking all my leftovers home to you, she said they’d be nasty by the time I got here.” You say sadly.

“Poor baby,” He indulges you with a pinch to your cheek, “You can take me to all those places another time and I’ll get everything you got.”

“Yeah, that’d be fun. I want to swim in the ocean with you, get all wrinkly and tan out on the sand too. We should go before the tour.” You say dreamily.

He just hums in acknowledgment, smiling down at you again before reaching down and pressing a kiss to your nose, he starts to sway you back and forth in his arms, a soft waltz taking place between your loveseat and coffee table.

“I really missed you. I have no idea how I’m gon’ manage in a few months," he says. This time there’s a small crease in his eyebrows as he wonders, face contorting with his thoughts into a beautiful, scary spiral. “You think this how my brothers feel about their girls? I just feel so intensely sometimes I wonder if something’s wrong with me.”

“I know what you mean, and I don’t know, you know a few of my friends on the trip have their lovers, but I don’t think anyone was quite as sad as me.” You say honestly.

He relaxes a bit at your confession, feeling relief in his heart that cools the fire from this 72-hour longing in Encino.

“We might be a bit unhealthy but we feel that way together so it evens out.” You offer as a thought.

He giggles before pressing another kiss to the side of your mouth, “I feel more than a bit unhealthy, I felt sick.” A kiss to your jawbone that sparks a tingle in your spine.

He kisses again, and again, and again, playing with your senses and common sense all at once.

“I decided you have to come to the whole tour, while you were away, and then right after we’ll get married.” He says into your collarbone. You move your neck to look him in the eyes, “Michael, what are you talking about?” You ask in bewilderment.

“Exactly what I said, I want you to quit your job and come on tour with me.” He repeats, “And then, if you would have me, I would like to become your husband. As soon as the schedule allows it.”

“Is that a proposal?”

“Girl,  I proposed to you when I set eyes on you. You know, as well as I do, that I would marry you anytime. This is me begging you to marry me by then.” He says with a laugh.

The humor is in his eyes but you can see how serious he is underneath it all, a true plea to look and see the vulnerability he is exhibiting in this moment.

“I always thought you were joking!” “I never joke about our future or my dreams.” You guess that’s true.

“Oh!” A laugh escapes you with a breath you cannot contain,  you feel like you’re vibrating and bouncing and jumping and leaping into the universe. “If I knew a mere 3 days would do this to you, I would’ve left a long time ago.”

He rolls his eyes before diving back into your neck, kissing a spot near your ear before pulling the skin with his teeth, “It’s not the 3 days, it’s been like this the whole time.” He clarifies.

“Don’t you want me?” He asks. You know that tone of voice, that tone is strictly reserved for when he’s going to put you through it. You don’t respond verbally, kissing the part of his head that’s closest to your lips as reassurance.

One of his hands slides down onto your thigh, a light rub that makes your breath hitch. He’s ready for a dance, “How much?” He asks. He looks up at you this time, eyes beautiful and sweet as sugar.

“So much.” You answer immediately. He hums before pulling your body impossibly closer to his, his hand on your thigh coming up higher.

His hand rubbed over to the edge of your clit, sending a strike of lightning through your body as you hissed. It was crazy what one little touch could do. 

He rubbed his thumb over, relishing in the way you writhed under his hold, “That’s not enough.” He taunted as you sighed against his neck. He would be the death of you.