Dangerous Games (Michael Jackson Fan Fiction)

Chapter 40: If I Can't Love Her

A/N: Okay, so Beauty and The Beast couldn't get out of my head (especially the soundtrack, like OMFG). So here is a mini playlist for this chapter (this include the namesake of this chapter):

"If I Can't Love Her" from Beauty and The Beast (Broadway version) - Josh Groban

"Evermore" from Beauty and The Beast (2017 film) - Josh Groban/Dan Stevens

"All I Ask Of You" from Phantom of The Opera (Original Broadway version) - Cliff Richard and Sarah Brightman

Okay enough with my long author's note. Enjoy the chapter. - Alex xoxo

~Ariana~

Michael was angry red, pissed. Mark and I watched him stomp from his behind as the three of us made our way to the hotel suite.

He unlocked the door by aggressively swiping the key on its slot, like the lock to the door did something to Michael that made him this mad.

"Why? Why is that every time I planned on something, shit always get hit by the fan?" Michael yelled, more to himself, as soon as the door was closed behind us to let all of his bottled emotions out.

"Michael, screaming your problems out won't solve anything," Mark, as usual, attempted to calm angry Michael down, and as usual, Michael did not listen.

"Really Mark? Oh shit, I should've thought of that years ago," sarcasm dripped from Michael's words as Mark rolled his eyes in frustration with Michael's temper, "how does calming myself down solve anything? It's always back to square one."

"We can think of something, we can always try Plan B," Michael walked over to the mini fridge to pull out a bottle of whisky that was stashed inside, for him to pour himself a glass as Mark talked.

"Yeah, we tried Plan B remember? And Plan C, and Plan D, and all the way," Michael traced the air like he was lining up the letters of the alphabet in front of us, "all the way to Plan Z, which didn't go just as well as the others."

Michael tipped his head back to consume all of the brown liquids down his throat, before he let out a more relaxed sigh once he's done.

"Alcohol can only cool me down, you should know that by now."

Mark grabbed the bottle from Michael's hands before he could pour some more into his glass, "Hey! That's mine!" Michael whined like a selfish little kid wanting his toy back from a playmate.

Before Mark could say anything else to Michael, he stepped back towards my direction to whisper, "You don't have to awkwardly stand there, just go to your room and get ready for bed. I left something for you on the dresser too, you can keep it if you need it."

"Mark, I'm not a kid anymore," was what I wanted to say, but Mark cut me off from that.

"Please, Ariana," It took Mark's pleading voice to convince me to walk myself towards my room and follow his orders accordingly.

But even if I followed Mark's orders, I could still hear the muffled arguments he and Michael were having despite the texture of the timber of this door.

Like Mark just told me, there was an envelope on the top of my dresser with the words 'For Ariana' in surprisingly the neatest hand writing in cursive form.

Curiosity over took me as I carefully ripped the seal of the envelope to reveal a good amount of cash that was enough to travel around the world at least once.

My tired eyes widen at the sight of green in my hands, that were still shaking after that incident at the club, as I nearly let the money go, that could've set a mini rainstorm of bills in my room. Luckily, my eyes caught sight on a piece of paper, that was falling past my waist as it was about to hit the cold tiled floor.