Forever and a Half || Michael Jackson

Chapter Twenty-Three - What's The Point?

Chapter twenty-three – What's The Point?

~~

After walking home from the pottery place, I note the time as being 1:00pm. I'm still slightly overwhelmed from what's happened today – Michael and I starting a relationship? It's something I never really saw happening. But then, when I think about it ... it feels obvious. Like, it was supposed to happen. I mean, we're both alone, the opposite gender, and we have an overly-affectionate friendship. Thinking about it like that, it's a surprise something didn't start sooner.

For now, it's just a sort of trial. It's clear that the care is there, but we've only known each other for about a month, so we kind of need to pace ourselves a little. Something tells me that Michael is enthusiastic about there being an "us", and don't get me wrong, I am too, but the whole thing is still so new to me. It's been years since I've been in this situation.

"S-So, what now?" Michael asks me, as we enter the living room, "I mean, it's up to you. I don't mind at all." His tone is sweet and gentle, slightly unlike what I'm used to hearing. Normally it's just inviting and polite, but this time is has real warmth.

We sit together on the sofa, slightly closer to one another than we were before today. My hand rests on the sofa to keep me upright, but then within seconds, I feel Michael's hand press softly against mine, sending a shiver down my spine. Yes, it still happens – though I thought we were past that stage, myself.

"I don't mind what we do. We can just watch TV if you like," I answer, trying not to overreact to the feel of his hand touching mine, "Just ... just keep it simple today, yeah?"

My eyes avert to his face, as he gives me a nod in response, "That's perfect Citria." His whole going-with-whatever-Citria-says attitude causes me to smile in amusement – because it's quite cute to me.

I reach to grab the remote, switching the TV on, before flicking channels. One of those home video programmes comes on, so I leave it on that. They're Michael's favourites, if I remember rightly. He always loves watching them.

"Oh! Yes!" He suddenly notices what's on, "I love this show! This is the kind of thing I mean. It's hard to not love your personality."

"My personality? I only kept a programme on TV," I chuckle, feeling his fingers lightly stroke my knuckles, now.

"Your caring personality, I mean. Always thinking of others before yourself. This is my favourite programme, not yours. It just ... yeah." His lips form a closed-mouth smile because he's struggling to find a way to end his sentence. I get what he means, though.

"Oh, right. Well ... it's just my nature, Michael." I return a genuine smile.

Then, I feel his fingers slide down my hand a little, so they can lace together with my own. These tiny little things are making me fall more and more for him; he's such a sweet gentleman.

"Well, I love your nature." He seems to lose focus on the television, instead concentrating fully on me, now. His eyes are sparkling a little, as if the way he's looking at me is meant to tell me that he really, truly cares for me. He has the faintest smile upon his face, yet I can tell he's serious, somehow.

Unlacing my fingers from his, I instead let myself lie in his arms. He allows me, no questions asked, so my head and hand lean on his chest, as he wraps his arms around my shoulders. Moments later, I feel a soft kiss on the top of my forehead, instantly making my mood one hundred times better. Even when I think I'm at my happiest, he makes me happier.

My arm slowly moves up his body, to wrap around his neck. Then, I pull myself up slightly, so our heads are nearly level. My face is now almost buried into the crook of his neck. Because I've moved positions, Michael's hand is now on the small of my back, rather than my shoulder, but it makes me feel protected.