Balloons [A Michael Jackson Fan Fiction]

Chapter 22: The Confession

Chapter 22: The Confession

{M}

"Well, I- ," he stuttered. "O-of course not! Why would I? I shouldn't invade your privacy, plus we made a promise! It's the principle of the thing!" He blurted.

"Yeah, I understand." She chuckled softly. "I read yours too."

"What?!" He exclaimed. "How could you do such a thing?"

"How could you do such a thing?"

"Touché."

"Look, let's talk about this in the morning. I'm really sleepy now. Let's just argue later, okay? Good night, Michael. Have a good sleep, and stay safe," she said quickly. She yawned, her eyes already tearing up because of her sleepiness. He nodded and assured her that he'd be fine. She closed the door slowly, and he was left alone with his thoughts.

   So Autumn read his notebook too?

   He walked slowly and leisurely, now watching his surrounding carefully. It was too dark, and the only thing lighting up the street is a single lamp post in the middle of the sidewalk. He didn't want to trip again.

   He continued on walking for several minutes when he heard a faint sobbing somewhere. He looked around, first not seeing anybody, then finally seeing a dark figure sitting on the curb of the sidewalk across the street. He knew it was late, but he can't just leave this guy alone. He walked towards the man.

"Hey, are you alright?" He asked, concerned. The man looked up, eyes red not only from sobbing, but also from something else. Michael was shocked and took a step back.

"Well, well, if it isn't Jackson."

"Josh."

"Nice to know you haven't forgotten me," he slurred. He was obviously drunk. He tried to stand up, but fell. Michael, as mad as he is at him, tried to help him, but he just pushed his hand away. "Get away."

"Look, we're not in the best of terms, but you need help."

"I said, get the fuck away," he shouted, pushing Michael forcefully, making him stumble. He was finally able to stand up, grabbing a brown paper bag that Michael didn't even notice before, and walk away.

"I was only trying to help."

"I don't need any help, especially from the likes of you," he spat viciously and walked away. 'Strange character,' Michael thought.

   He continued walking to his hotel, only to be greeted by the horde of fans outside the hotel. He tried to walk quickly -not running because that would look suspicious- and hiding in the shadows to not get noticed. But his efforts were in vain. The fans had sharp eye-sights, and they spotted him from across the street. They screamed and cried, and they ran towards him. Michael had no choice but to also run.