Dangerous Games (Michael Jackson Fan Fiction)

Chapter 30: Morning Sickness

A/N: Thank you so much for 4k reads and 395 votes. This chapter is for you. Enjoy! - Alex xoxo.

~Ariana~

Little girl.

There's only one person who calls me little girl. And that person is just metres away from me.

"Michael?" I said, in complete shock, as I turned around slowly to come face to face to the man who is, was, my life, until he broke my heart all those years ago.

I took my time taking in with his appearance, and boy, he looked hella lot different.

Well, the only differences there, were his new hairdo and a lighter skin tone, due to his skin disorder. But other than that, his face, his eyes and his annoying perfect smile, still remained the same.

Same man, but he grew up.

"Well, that's my name, isn't it?" Michael grinned at his sarcastic remark as he walked in the room quietly, like he was afraid of me somehow. I continued to stare in disbelief at his presence, more in shock than anger really, but I still wondered how I ended up here.

"How did I-?"

"-ended up here? A friend found you not looking so great, passed out on him, you're lucky that I helped you out, otherwise I would've made Mark left you in the bar," Michael finished my question with his answer as memories from last night started to clear up. My face whitened at the thought of Michael leaving me unconscious at the club, I'd honestly don't know where I would be today if he didn't.

"Sorry for being a bother," I apologised, not really sure if I should remain mad at this person for randomly leaving me for no reason two years ago.

"You're not a bother to me little girl," Michael sighed, leaning against the wall from the opposite side of the room with his arms crossed, "you never was," he added quietly.

"Um," I muttered awkwardly, more to myself, as I think of something to respond to what he just said. Fortunately, Michael did it for me, "I see you kept the sweater."

"Huh?"

"The sweater," Michael repeated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world as he pointed towards my top, causing me to look down at where he was pointing at.

"Yeah, so?" I retorted as I looked back up to see Michael stifling a laugh.

"Nothing really, I'm actually surprised that you still kept it, that's all," Michael replied calmly as I gave him the death glare. So, he came back to my life to say nothing but comment about how I kept the sweater he got me? This felt like detention, senior year, all over again.

I walked up closer to Michael as he raised his eyebrow in suspicion at what I was about to do, "Oh yeah? So would you be surprised if I do this?"

Without giving Michael a simple guess, I instead gave Michael a good slap on the face as he clutched onto his cheek. The red hand mark from the impact of my slap was clearly visible on his light brown skin.

"What the fuck was that for?" Michael exclaimed as he scrunched his nose, adjusting to the pain that probably stung on his face.

"Oh that? That, mister, is for playing with my feelings," I spat at Michael as I pushed him aside so I could make my way out of this room, this house, and back to my own house, where my friends are probably worrying about me at this moment. Heck, I don't even know where I am right now. I could be thousands of miles away from home for all we know.

"Wait, where are you going?" Michael stopped me before I could go any further.

"Home," I called out, with my back still turned from him. My hand was about to twist the door knob open so I could get out of this place. However, nausea filled my chest as I gagged and covered my mouth to prevent any puke coming out. I frantically looked around the room for a bucket or anything that I can puke on without making a total mess. Oh what the hell, you don't even care about the person anymore, why should you care if his room stank of vomit?