Forever and a Half || Michael Jackson

Chapter Thirty-Five - Anger Talking

Chapter thirty-five – Anger Talking

~~

-One week later-

"Michael! The phone's ringing," I call from the kitchen, as I prepare our breakfast.

From the living room, he calls back: "I'll get it!" After, I hear his footsteps leading into the hallway, where the phone is located. "Hello; Jackson speaking." Deciding to eavesdrop a little, I pause what I'm doing and walk to the kitchen door, close to where Michael is standing. He continues to talk on the phone, "Who is this? ... Oh. Goodbye."

Confused, I enter the hallway. "What was that about? Who was it?"

He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply, as if trying to calm himself down. "It was Marco again. I'm still wanting to know how the hell he got our number. I sure as hell never gave it to him."

"I don't know either, Michael. It's a mystery." Wanting to conclude the conversation there, I walk back into the kitchen, to continue making breakfast. "Anyway, breakfast will be ready soon. It's pancakes."

"Sweet!" he grins, following me into the room. "You know I have a sweet tooth."

"I know," I reply, heading over to the pan to flip the pancakes over. "I'm assuming you'll want syrup and everything else?"

Without even turning around to look at him, I just know that he's giving me a sneaky, playful smile. Whenever I figure him out, he does that. "Maybe ... " he finally answers, a chuckle following after.

"Well, they're nearly ready. Could you give me the sugar please, Michael?" I request politely.

The next thing I know, I'm feeling Michael's arms around me from behind; one of his hands touches upon my chin, guiding my head around to face him, before he gives me a kiss. "There. I gave you some sugar."

That joke doesn't fail to make me cringe. "That was so cheesy, Michael. Gosh."

"Well actually, it was technically sugary," he retorts, a smirk rising into his lips. "Nah; I know it was. I just wanted to prove I'm funny – looks like that failed."

"Yeah, it did," I agree, serving the pancakes up onto plates now. "Completely failed."

When I turn around to face him, I notice that he's pouting, with his arms folded. "You weren't meant to agree," he informs me. "You were meant to disagree because you love me."

"I'm terribly sorry," I remark sarcastically, handing him a plate and joining him at the table. "But I couldn't help myself."

I nonchalantly begin to eat my pancakes, feeling Michael's playful yet nasty stare on me. It always tickles me when he does this; I love having playful arguments, because they're not genuine – they're just for fun.

Unable to contain my giggles, I look up at him, trying to imitate his facial expression as accurately as possible. When I get it just right, Michael's lip quivers a little, as if he's trying to stop himself from smiling. However, this attempt isn't very good, because he ends up bursting into laughter. "God damn it, Citria! The whole point of me pretending to be angry is that you don't make me laugh! That's rude!"

"I'm terribly sorry." Following this apology, my eyes tightly close, and I stick my tongue out at him. Moments later, I feel him tap my nose, which leads me to abruptly opening my eyes and pouting at him. "Hey!"

He smirks, before casually beginning to eat his pancakes. "What? I didn't do nothing ... "

"That's a double negative, meaning you did something," I argue cockily, taking another bite of food.