𝗧𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗠𝗼𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗕𝗮𝗰𝗸

𝗦𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 | 𝗔 𝗙𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗵 𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁

𝙎𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙚. 𝙈𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙚𝙡 𝙙𝙞𝙙𝙣'𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 a man could grow to hate a word so much. That was until Mallorie had chucked that one at him.

After a partial hour of consoling, and after he became obsequiously concerned with her needs in an effort to be forgiven, Mallorie had pushed him away then sat him on what used to be their bed and said she needed space.

The issue wasn't in her making the request itself. Michael would have happily snacked on a handful of dirty nails and washed them down with lemon juice if that was what she wanted. The hassle was in trying to provide it when the direction was cryptic enough on its own. To make matters worse, she'd been equally vague.

"Space?" he repeated.

"Yes, space."

"For how long?"

"I don't know."

"What if I need you?" he asked desperately.

"As your doctor? Because that's all I am right now," she told him. "I'll be there if something happens, but you have all your prescriptions, all your instructions... Take care of yourself and you won't need me."

Michael felt the jagged blade of guilt stab his chest then twist at the memory just as it had in the moment, the feeling so painful it took his breath away and brought tears to his eyes. Take care of himself? The task was risibly difficult under the current circumstances, and that was because he didn't have her to return to.

Much like Mallorie, Brisbane was gorgeous and vibrant, but Michael hadn't seen much of it. He caught glimpses of it during his arrival—as much as he could through the seas of overexcited people and flashes of professional cameras. A poor reflection of the turmoil of loneliness that existed within the stretches of the hotel floor he was allowed to roam, the outside was sunny and warm, teeming with equally pleasant and inviting citizens that had even more charming accents. In the afternoon, Michael had been driven past a picturesque beach that was full of laughing children and their parents being greeted by the refreshing cycle of the Pacific waves he wouldn't ever soon feel.

Instead, he was submitting himself to the endless demands of his career, exchanging a portion of his humanity for his ever imperiled privacy. For now, that meant sitting in the backseat of a luxury vehicle with only his chief of security as his companion. Michael counted the seconds between each soft rustle of Bill's newspaper as he stared out the passenger window to the bleak parking lot before him. Not more than just a few cars scattered the desolate area, making it all the more evident that regular people were likely off doing better things with their day.

"Not that I don't like havin' you around after hours," Bill spoke up from beside him, his hazel eyes still scanning a column in The Courier-Mail. "But when were you planning to get your own hotel room, Michael?"

Michael released a slow exhale then lifted his head from the window to look over at Bill, swallowing down the sadness that had been residing in him so he could adopt a more humorous tone. "Are you kicking me out?"

The old man smiled. "Of course not. But as much as you like sleepovers and movie nights, I know that's not what this has been."

Bill was right. Michael knew his abrupt decision to share a hotel room with him wasn't anything close to recreational. It was torture. If it hadn't been his self-maintaining high level of energy after the final show in Sydney that kept him wide awake, it had to be the emotional pain that made a reappearance just as soon as he didn't have an audience to distract him from it any longer. The sore sensation in his chest that came in tandem with his frequent thoughts of Mallorie and how much he missed having her around was no help. He was in constant need for distraction, and he found it by scrutinizing his recent concert tapes or taking advantage of the ballroom he had exclusive access to. What he couldn't seem to find, no matter how long he laid on the floor of the old man's hotel room, was the invaluable repose and belonging he had felt when he would lay with Mallorie curled against him.