Inhaling Alongside You✔️

Chapter Four: In His Shadow

Failure is a pollutant of confidence. Failure can induce strength or cause victimization to defeat. Whether or not failure transfused humbleness or depresses seldom terror of trying, it's up to the person at will.

Failure has tried many times in convincing me that I should fear consistency. Failure had made it's rounds in my mind, painting mirages of false impossibilities. Each time, I managed to find my strength in myself to trudge through it.

After leaving me alone for a couple of hours, night fell and Michael appeared for my comfort.

That's where my assurance lies, in his arms. The world doesn't know the Michael I know. They know the entertainer, the loner or whatever else they depict him as.

They don't know the Michael who has sleepless nights because he is worried about the child he visited in the hospital that day. The world doesn't know the Michael who likes to watch The Three Stooges, because he secretly wishes to meet them one day.

The world doesn't know the Michael that cries, because people make fun of his "changes" even making drastic statements, ensuing that he is a homosexual.

With each opinion the world forms about my Michael, I hold him tighter letting him know that if it boils down to it, he can rest assure that there's one person in this melting pot of a world that knows and understands him.

"What do you hear when you think about corruption?" He whispers, entangling our fingers together.

It is two o'clock in the morning, and Michael can't sleep. He fought long and hard, only managing about three hours before finally admitting defeat.

Because of this, he guiltily woke me and asked me to lie awake with him for the night. I sleepily nodded, so here we are, lying on a comfy Serta mattress, with equally comforting linen; face to face.

"I hear music... It's not all sad, but uplifting and inspirational... As if saying there's still hope" I answer, searching for his response to my answer in the mist of the darkness of the bedroom.

"Hm..." He whispers, still in contemplation.

"I can hear that too... I hear it" He sighs.

Through the darkness, I can still hear the smile in his voice and even see it as well.

"You're such a beautiful person Michael. I wish the rest of the world could see what i see"

He falls mutely silent, his slender fingers still gripping onto mine, gently.

I know how sensitive Michael is when it comes to the publics view of him. It pains him when the media create these insanely, bizarre stories about things that have been feigned as it was passed from journalist to journalist. It's sickening and sad.

"Michael?"

He shifts a bit, releasing my hands.

"I'm tired now..." He finally replies, his voice a bit pained.

I sigh, scooting closer into his chest.

I can feel his subtle breaths against my forehead as well as hear his steady heart beats; both equally beautiful to experience.

Sometimes I forget how lucky I am to be this close to Michael Jackson. To have him hold me in the night. To have his lips always claiming mine, it's just magical.

Inhaling his natural musk, I silently pray that I'll wake in the morning to thy beautiful smile of his. I know tomorrow will be a bit stressful, but hopefully it doesn't take away his smile.

>

Waking this morning is a chore. I'm not much of a morning person. Michael is well aware of this, so when he dedcided to be a complete jerk and pull one of his childish pranks on me, I was beyond agitated.