Wait For You - 'Look After You' Sequel - A Michael Jackson Fanfiction

Chapter 1

Evelyn
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The gun was cold against my skin.

I remember that more than anything.

My hands were trembling, my pulse racing so fast I could barely breathe.

I pressed the barrel under my chin, and for a second...just one second, I thought it would be easier this way.

Michael was gone. His blood was all over me, on the seat, dripping down the door.

I had already killed once tonight. What was one more?

My thumb slid over the trigger. I closed my eyes. I waited.

Then I saw his face. The way he used to look at me when I'd ramble about nothing. The way he'd reach for me, thumb under my chin, always steady, always grounding me.

And I couldn't do it.

The moment I pulled the trigger, I flinched.

My hand jerked.

The shot went off, loud enough to shake the whole damn world.

It tore through the roof instead of me.

The smoke filled the car. My ears rang and I dropped the gun, gasping, choking on gunpowder and adrenaline.

My heart didn't slow. Not even for a second.

I looked back at him ... slumped, still, his shirt soaked red, and every part of me shattered.

I touched his face, my fingertips tracing over his jaw, his lips, the scar near his temple I'd kissed a hundred times. "You're okay," I whispered, like words could rewind time. "You're okay, baby. You're okay."

He wasn't.

I tried to feel a pulse again, but my hands were shaking too hard. I pressed harder, desperate, but there was nothing.

Just silence.

That was the moment I broke.

I pressed my forehead to his, whispering apologies between sobs. My tears mixed with his blood.

My chest hurt so bad I thought I'd pass out. "I can't do this without you," I whispered. "Please, don't leave me."

But he already had.

I held him for hours, I think. Maybe minutes.

Time didn't move right. I kept whispering his name, pressing my hand against his chest like I could force his heart to remember what it was supposed to do.

I kissed him once, his cheek, cold and already losing color...and told him I loved him.

Told him I'd be right back.

And then I left.

It was the hardest thing I've ever done, walking away from the one person I swore I'd never leave.

But I was terrified, and something in me snapped. The girl who used to freeze under pressure didn't exist anymore.

The one that survived her father's empire did.

I drove until the road blurred, and when I looked up again, I was home.

Chicago.

They all asked for him the second I walked into the club, the one we built together. Luca. The girls. The regulars.

The silence after I said "He's gone" was something I'll never forget.

They buried a casket two weeks later. I stood there in black, staring at his name carved into marble like it was supposed to mean something.