(18+) RED (Complete)

Ch. 9: A little bit of normalcy

"Mia?"

I heard his voice, but it was too unreal.

"Hello? Are you there?"

"I..." I tried, but I belly-landed. What do you say when you talk to Michael Jackson? At least when we met him, I wasn't alone. There were plenty of people around us. Gabby were there too, and was most of the reason why I stayed somewhat calm. And I didn't really think back then. But now? Now I thought about all kinds of things. So many things that it got stuck in my head, clogged up my throat and tied my tongue. I couldn't say a word.

"Mia? I was meaning to tell you... I just didn't know how to, because I was afraid you'd turn into one of those screaming and crying girls, and then stop treating me like I was... Normal, I guess."

He paused for a second, and I heard him clear his throat. His voice was just as high-pitched and soft as when I met him, but it sounded a bit different through the phone anyway. But it was no question that it was him.

"Are you there, Mia?"

"Y-yeah," I said stupidly, but it was more like a hoarse bark.

"I just wanted a friend. And since most people treat me differently when they know who I am, it felt nice to hide behind a text rather than a real conversation over the phone. Like this."

He was right. He has a pretty distinct voice. So except for the ones who were really good at imitating him, it was undoubtedly not difficult to recognize that it was him.

"It's pretty lonely to be me," he said lowly, and I could feel he meant each word. It ripped my heart into pieces, and I felt completely devastated.

"How?" I questioned, slightly dumbfounded.

"Everybody always want something from me. If it's not money, it's to perform in some kind of way, or give my undivided attention to whatever project they have going on. Don't get me wrong. I love all of those things. To share my money with those in need. To perform and spread joy and happiness through dance and music. And to let the inspiration flow with ideas on new arenas. But there's never room to be me, other than when I'm all by myself. Because that's what it all comes down to."

There was a short, sad laugh.

"I just miss someone who wants to keep me company for the sole reason that I'm another human being. Not because I'm Michael Jackson."

Both of us were silent for a little minute, before he spoke up again. And this time he sounded sadder than ever.

"Sometimes I just need to be alone with someone."

"Because then you're not alone anymore?" I asked, feeling wet, warm droplets pool up against my eyelashes, wanting to tear themselves through their jail.

"Yeah. Well, I'm still physically alone since I'm on tour. But at least I have someone to talk to. You know, about unimportant stuff like what you had on your sandwich today, or what the weather is like. Something that takes your mind off of things that bothers you. And you've been that to me."

"And you've been that to me, too."

That wasn't a lie at all.

"I'm sorry for teasing you so much, though," he giggled, sounding happier. Only a little, but I heard it.

"I don't mind. It's gonna take a while to call you Michael Jackson, though. You're still Jake to me."

Now his voice changed. He became more reserved, maybe even a bit disappointed.

"See? That's what I mean."

"I don't understand," I stuttered. What did I do wrong?

"The second people know who I am, they refer to me as Mr. Jackson or use my whole name in everything they say."