Ariana's Point Of View ~

Michael & Ariana's Home | Los Angeles, California

Finally home.

I don't say this often but what a day. The day was full of success as prior rehearsal and preparation has indeed paid off. I walk into our house. Jesse behind me even though it's a short walk from the car. Michael isn't home though . . I can already tell as no light is on except the one I just turned on myself. Not to mention, the fact that the house is feeling somewhat soulless as a presence such as Michael's is so strong that it's too obvious he isn't here.

Or is that just because I have thought about him all day long? Having missed him greatly to now finally being home and he still is nowhere to be found is affecting me more than I thought it would. I sigh deeply as I hand Jesse my coat for him to place it onto the rack that stands near the front door.

"Mr Jackson shouldn't be too late, Ms Grande . . "

Jesse tells me gently. I smile, one that is a mix of wanting Michael so bad and just being simply exhausted from today.

 "Thank you, Jesse . . ".I tell him as I make my way upstairs and into our bedroom. 

My walk is slow and just incredibly lifeless. Please don't get me wrong - I am so happy about today. The fact that this new song is yet another project of mine that is now complete and will be released within a matter of hours. It's just that I was so hoping to speak to Michael finally after thinking about him non-stop. But he's not home yet. So now, I must wait yet again. I am not angry at him.

I just hope he's okay.

That's all I want.

When it comes to Michael, that's all I ask for.

I don't know what's been going on with him. The last few days I felt as if Michael has been rather distant. Did something happen at the children's hospital that I don't yet know about? Did the paparazzi say something to him that hurt him or upset him? Or is it to do with those horrible sleeping tablets that I found? I'm guessing over here. My mind is going a million miles an hour as I try to pin point the one thing that makes sense in his sudden change in demeanour.

I'm left unsettled.

Instead of jumping into the shower or pulling out a good book to relax - I decide to this time, switch it up. I throw on an oversized hoodie that sits on the middle of my thighs before my bare feet but white painted toe nails, always, make their way into the lounge room. Wow. It sure has been a good while since the last time I, or Michael for that matter, last stepped foot in here. As I say that, I wouldn't be shocked if I was to come across endless piles of dust but . . our house cleaner does do a fabulous job.

I take a seat on the large lounge.

Grabbing a blanket that lays nearby and placing it over my legs. Not taking long to begin flicking through good old fashioned Netflix. Hmm, what should I watch? I think this to myself as the possibilities are indeed endless. I flick past one movie, and another, and another. A sigh of utter frustration as I'm left undecided - completely. I shiver as out of the blue, I feel a sudden chill. Not from the cool air that the night may bring but just from the idea of not having Michael beside me right now. Where is he? I so wish for him to come home.

Like a guardian angel that is watching my every move or reading my mind, a movie comes across and catches my attention. A movie that is in fact about being apart from the one you love. In their attempt of contact, they write and receive letters as they long for each other from a great distance, until the day finally comes for the pair to be reconnected once more.

Coincidence?

Who knows. All I know is that is exactly how my heart is feeling. I tap the screen of my phone as it accompanies me on this rather large lounge - no calls, no messages from Michael. I feel as if those sleeping tablets are the one and only reason. I can't think of anything else. He is acting different . . there isn't any other explanation. I so wish to speak to him about my findings but every time I went to do so . . I just simply couldn't. I don't want him to think the worst of me - ever. I'm just concerned of how bad his insomnia is really getting. I'm so fucking scared. I just want the best for him.

I love him too much.

I watch as the two lovers are now reunited after an entire year. Their arms around each others, her legs around his waist and both simply beaming from their long awaited reunion. It makes me smile but also wondering . . wondering just when I will finally have that moment with Michael after such a day that was today. 

I know what your thinking - watching a movie requires snacks. 

Chocolates to be more precise and a glass of red to wash all of that sweetness down. But I'm not hungry. 

Not in the slightest. 

I toss and turn, trying to get somewhat comfortable as I sit anxious. I wish I could go outside and go for a walk to clear my head. Get some air, but I know I won't get too far, not without attention being drawn towards me as even though I would be just minding my own business. My eyes sneak away from the screen of the television and down towards my phone again with pure silence on my end. But still, I choose to just leave Michael alone and keep waiting until he's home. 

The movie continues but as it does, I'm left sad. Never sure why on earth she even married him. Why did she need to? I scratch my head mentally as I think there was simply never the need . . but she did, leaving the character of Channing Tatum utterly heartbroken. 

All of a sudden, I hear chatter coming from our front door.

I feel my entire being prick up - ears especially. I grab the remote, switching the television off. The blanket thrown to the floor as I stand up and make my way in the direction of that chatter. My footsteps very quiet, but I feel like I am almost running. As I travel, I listen. To hear a voice that is all too familiar. 

It's Michael. He's home. 

My eyes dart here and there as I stand before a select few of on duty night security. But it's not them that I wish to see. "You okay, Ms Grande? . . "Jesse asks me. "I thought I heard Michael? . . " 

I say, hoping I wasn't imagining the entire thing. I see Arthur - Michael's head of security so Michael must be home. He has to be. 

"Indeed he is. He has gone upstairs to your bedroom, Ms Grande . . "

I waste no time. Our bedroom light not even switched on but our bathroom light on the other hand is. I quietly walk towards the ajar door, a knock is placed onto it as I don't want to startle him. 

"Michael? . . " I ask softly against the door. 

I hear some kind of rustle, some kind of panic from his side of the door and I didn't want that.

"Can I come in? . . " I ask, waiting.

The softest yes is heard in response. I'm determined but more so cautions as I enter. I too, speak soft to Michael. Because as I said, I'm not angry. I'm just concerned. His back towards me as I see him frantically wrap a large towel around himself. My mind yet again thinks of the many things that could be going on. Has he taken more of those sleeping tablets and he's turning away so that I can't see his facial features of swallowing something he shouldn't?

What is he trying to hide from me? I walk towards him slowly before my hand rests upon his shoulder. "You okay, Michael? . . ".

He nods. That's all.

"Michael. What's going on? . . " I ask with so much worry.

He remains silent until he speaks. "I was just about to have a shower, Ari . . "

His voice cracks. And from that, so does my heart. My eyebrows frown as I think and my lips squeeze together.

"I don't want you to see me . . " Michael suddenly states. 

The statement leaves me startled. What does Michael mean by saying such a thing? I want to see him. I want to look at him. I want to touch him and kiss him. I love him and to everyday think how lucky I am that a man like Michael loves me back. So I'm confused by his comment - I just don't understand.

Show yourself, Michael. 

Please don't hide.

"What do you mean, Michael? Let me see you . . "

He walks past me and out of the bathroom, back into our joined bedroom. I turn around to face him immediately. But still he faces away from me as it's only his back that's in my view. I watch as his hand comes up to his face, like he's wiping away tears. 

Have I done something wrong? 

Maybe it's been me all along and I have been thinking it was because of the actions and words of others. I'm in complete overdrive. I want to know, I need to know. But I don't want to push Michael too hard. As much as I want to find out what's going on with Michael, I still must be patient with him.

"I'm ugly, Ari . . " He suddenly says.

This time I don't speak as I feel the shock of that run throughout me entirely. But it makes me think as I place the pieces together in an instant from that incorrect statement Michael just made about himself.

I don't want you to see me . .

I'm ugly . .

For it isn't the media, myself or those dreadful sleeping tablets. It's his vitiligo he is referring to. He has always been self conscious about it but Michael doesn't say too much about it though. Covering up the few patches with make-up and then simply getting on with what he needs to get done for the day. If it's an interview, a photoshoot or the shooting of a short film - that is what Michael does. 

He is such a brave man. I have always admired that about him. But has it spread? How much has it spread and where exactly on his body? . . ugh. I have so many questions. 

I hear Michael take a deep breath before he turns around to face me. I'm left wide eyed as I finally am able to lay my eyes upon the man I love after days without something so simple. The large towel that covered his naked flesh drops off his shoulders, letting it rest on the middle of his back and chest.

I look at his skin. It looks lighter, with much more patches having formed. Not knowing this fact until just now. His hand squeezes as he takes a more solid hold of the towel. Michael's eyes are soft and holding so much wetness as he slowly lowers the portion of the towel that is now at his exposed chest, dragging it down lower and lower until he reaches the top of his stomach. Before my eyes, I realise it's make-up that Michael just wiped away. I stare as it sits smudged on his chest and upper stomach. It's this sight that makes me follow suit with my eyes matching Michael's.

"I told you I'm ugly . . "

"It's spread everywhere. My entire body . . "

He says, hanging his head down.

I walk towards him, getting as close to him as humanly possible. My hand comes up to his cheek to rest there. I can feel more make-up on his face too. I can't even imagine what he must think of himself and the low self esteem level he must hold right now. Spread all over his entire body? My poor baby. Michael hoped his vitiligo wouldn't get this way as he prayed to always hold the control over it. I move my thumb over his soft cheek and as I do so, the make-up is smeared off but only slightly.

I lock eyes with him, and he does with me.

"Wait here, baby . . " I whisper.

I snap around to head back into the bathroom. Turning the taps on the bath. As it fills, I return to Michael. He stills holds onto the large towel - tightly. Like a small child would their favourite toy. I wish to just cry so bad but I feel I have no right after discovering this about Michael and what he must be feeling. I just hate to see him in so much emotional pain. I remain silent, letting my fingers do the talking for me. They come up and take a gentle hold of the towel that covers the rest of his body.

Slowly, I lower it.

All while looking deep into Michael's sparkly, deep brown eyes. He doesn't stop me. Allowing me to do what I wish. My fingers lower and lower the towel down his body until Michael himself has let go of it and allows it to fall onto the floor. His naked body before me, making me smile. I have missed him . . each and every part of him as the explanation of Michael's distant behaviour is made so clear now as he would turn away from me, and even walking out of a room once I walked in. He didn't kiss me goodbye this morning because he was simply ashamed and felt as though he had to hide from me. I take hold of his hand, walking us into the bathroom. The bath taps off as I too, undress. I step into the bath, then sitting down. Michael joins me, stepping in next to sit himself right in front of me.

His back to me.

My lips to his naked shoulder.

I hold the warm water in the palm of my hands. Then letting it splash onto Michael's skin. I watch as all of Michael's full body make-up runs down and off. My lips hover over his shoulder as I speak softly to him.

"Show yourself. Please never hide from me again, Michael . . "

"Because you're so beautiful baby . . "

to be continued.