Ariana's Point Of View ~

Michael's Hotel Suite | New York

The morning sun shine beams through the white curtains. As I open my eyes, I can't help but form a smile caused simply from pure happiness. As the feeling of having the thought of being by Michael's side just makes me beam right back. The hustle of the New York life down there is heard from all the way up here - cars honking, sirens of emergency services that sound as if they are coming from each and every direction and not to mention the soft songs that the birds are singing. The softness of the mattress and it's overall warmth reminds me of a bed that I had previously - all to myself while having someone in particular on the brain as I begged to let me love him. Yet having no choice but to leave this bed and house back in LA. I roll onto my back, with the blanket sitting nicely just above my breasts. I rub my eyes, trying to wake up.

I turn my head to my right to see the man that I am so in love with. Turning on my side this time to face Michael as he continues sleeping. I watch him for a few seconds. It's a small bite of my lip that occurs as I remember the festivities that was last night . . and all night long.

Michael loved me. And loved me good.

Fucking me so damn well.

It was beautiful. And so hot too, of course. Even though it was only for the night. He looks so peaceful and a moment I actually almost never get to be a witness of as his insomnia really does get the best of him. I watch the rise and fall of his chest and see as his beautiful black curls are scattered all around him . . almost like his very own halo. My hand comes up quietly to allow my fingers to connect with his jaw, but not before my thumb can't help but to brush on his lips.

Oh Michael.

You give me butterflies.

I exhale softly, but still forcefully as I think about having to go back home today. Ugh! But I only just got here. I lift off and shove away the blanket. Then with the greatest of care taken to remain silent, I put on one of Michael's button up shirts and a new, clean pair of my underwear before I tip-toe out of the bedroom and into the safety of the kitchen. My eyes squint as I think to myself 'hmm, I wonder if Michael has any blueberries'. Well to be fair, Michael wasn't expecting me so I would already know the dreaded answer to that question. Within a matter of seconds, I become familiar with the home of the mugs, the spoons and of course the almond milk that he also drinks. The coffee pours into the mug causing a stench of glorious caffeine to fill the entirety of this suite it feels.

I can't wait. Attempting to take a sip, even a small one will be enough, but I'm halted suddenly as the steam itself reminds me that the coffee is still scorching. As I wait, and wait some more, my eyes wonder - seeing a scrunched up, and at least few day old newspaper sitting on the lounge in front of me. I walk the few feet to it's location and upon arrival, place my mug onto the coffee table provided. Taking a seat on the lounge. As I unravel it, I am hit with the realisation immediately . . this is the newspaper that Michael had discarded so viciously. This is the newspaper that got him mad . . that made him so upset and therefore inspired his midnight stroll through the streets of thankfully that nights dormant city.

I saw it. I read it.

And I don't wish to do so again. I was so hurt and left completely heartbroken for Michael. I had to call him, and so I did. Ugh! The thought of him being so sad still tugs at my heart along with the sound of his voice as he broke down straight away.

My poor baby.

A strong man, but still one that is so fragile. I had to be with him which explains my unexpected appearance - even if it was only for the night. I remain on the lounge, finally only now being able to set my lips upon the mug that contains the liquid gold that is caffeine. I love my coffee - but not as much as Michael does. The large window that is opposite me outlooks New York below is such a stunning sight, indeed. I bring my legs closer to me as I am satisfied with the simple task of sitting here and being alone right now.

I'm going to let him sleep for as long as possible. He most definitely needs it. I get a rush of discomfort as I think about that dreaded bottle of sleeping tablets. Did he bring those with him to New York? I still haven't said anything to Michael about them . . he doesn't know I found them that night or that I even know anything about their horrid existence.

Should I say something to him? . . today? I don't know. He's asleep now, thank goodness. And that's all I care about right now. I take the final sip of my coffee before setting it down gently onto the table in front of me as I choose to still remain here and actually just enjoy my own company. But there's a knock on the door that ruins all of that in an instant. With a small grunt, I make my way towards the door.

"Who is it? . . "

I call out as I stand right by it.

"Oh. It's- it's Tatiana . . "

What the fuck. What is she doing here? How did she even get past security? I look through the peep hole just in case I may be hearing things and therefore going slightly insane . . but nup, I did hear right. I open the door but only a little bit with my eyes just appearing out the door.

"Hi Ariana. I thought you were heading back to LA really early this morning . . "

Tatiana says. Is she fucking serious? She shows up here out of the blue to my boyfriends hotel suite and says something that sounds as if I'm the one out of place and in the way.

"I was only visiting for the night but yes, leaving sometime today, back to LA . . "

I reply, recalling and now regretting me telling her all of this in our small talk session back on set last night. I am trying so hard to remain calm. I can't help but to have some kind of attitude. How dare she show up here and with no sort of consent from anyone but herself, it seems. My guard is up yet again in regards to Tatiana and her true intentions.

I don't trust her.

There, I said it. Plain and simple.

I cross my arms, leaning against the door frame. I speak in a tone I rarely use. But it's definitely there. "What brings you here Tatiana? . . ".

"Frank told me it was cool if I came up here . . ". She peeks into the suite that is behind me - she looks left, then right and then just all around. "I was looking for Michael . . "

What a fucking hide.

But she's got balls, I'll give her that. Then again . . with the way she is acting right now, I truely don't believe she has a clue that her being here is very inappropriate. My jaw tightens and my eyes squint hearing her speak that last sentence as it seems to have touched a nerve.

"Michael isn't available to come to the door. But I can help you out . . " I ask in that same tone.

"I just wanted to return this to him. He left it on set last night . . "

It's an opened packet of chewing gum.

"Oh-ah, thanks . . " I reply.

"Well, have a safe flight back home . . ". Tatiana expresses to me before she finally walks away. I close the door, standing still, just looking at this unfastened packet of chewing gum in my hand. She came all the way here to return a packet of chewing gum? Couldn't she have just given it to Frank or Arthur to then give to Michael? I take a deep breath as I tell myself to remain as calm as possible. I place the packet down, walking away from it entirely as the only thing that will calm me down . . is Michael.

I walk back into the bedroom. He's still sleeping, it's a simple sight like this that I knew would relax me in an instant. Again, tip-toeing over to my side of the double bed, climbing on to sit myself down. I find myself biting my lip again and so desperately wanting to have him . . again and again. His skin before me. My fingers hover over his vitiligo wishing that was enough to erase it, more than anything, to erase all the hurt it has caused him. I lean my back against the head board, extending my legs out in front of me to recline.

In this moment, I feel at peace but also quite trouble as the constant thought of Tatiana's unwanted visit still plays on my mind.

What if I wasn't here? What would have happened? . . anything and everything? Or simply nothing at all?

I let my head fall back, releasing a soft sigh as I allow it to torment me. Almost like it's laughing at me as it's many fingers poke me here and there. My eyes fall back onto Michael . . he looks so beautiful - even in these rare occasions of sleep. I want to touch him again and I fucking have to. My fingers come down to his exposed chest once more. His skin is warm, as is the puff of breath that escapes out of his nostrils to hit my lower arm. I hear a sudden inhale on Michael's behalf. His eyes flutter open and not taking long for them to land on me.

"Hi Ari . . " He says sleepily.

"Hi. Can I go and make you a coffee? . . "

He sits up slightly, to place his head on my chest and wrap his arms around my waist as he wishes to stop me from moving anywhere that isn't right with him. "No no. Don't you dare go anywhere. I need to make the most of being with you before you have to go back . . "

He says cutely. I run my fingers through his long curls as I am more than happy to accept his request. "That's fine with me . . " I say with a giggle before biting my lip again.

It's in this spilt second that I have decided not to bring up the sleeping tables nor Tatiana gracing me with her uninvited and unannounced presence. I just don't wish to discuss anything that could put such a damper on things, and after such a beautiful night too. I don't want either of those to be the last topic of discussion before I must go back to LA. So instead, I will keep it to myself and not tell a soul.

"I would ask but I know your excited about your tour coming up. And starting right here and New York . . "

I state with a chuckle as my fingers continue to glide gently through his curls. "Your right. I can't wait - I really can't . . ". His voice mixed with a soft giggle makes my heart skip not just one, but numerous beats. Michael continues "Ari, your tour will come around so quickly too . . ". He isn't wrong because before I know it, I'll be touring just like Michael will be.

Damn it, Ariana.

But why does my mind go there, still? As I sit here with the man I love so much in my arms . . I think about him getting enough sleep with all that happening. I'm hoping with him rehearsing, touring and also filming even more short films for the album . . he will. I pray that a mixture of all of that going on will give him nothing more but a desire to sleep. I look down at him as he lays on me in oblivion to my concerned stare . . wandering if there is a way to hold him even closer.

I just want to protect him.

I inhale, before exhaling quite deeply. It's something that causes Michael to ask me so softly "Ari, you okay baby? . . ".

All of sudden, my eyes well up. I don't want anything to happen to Michael because of those sleeping tablets . . is my overthinking right? Or am I just plain overthinking? I take a few seconds before answering. "I'm fine . . ". Wanting to change the subject, so I grab the remote control for the television . . turning it on. There isn't any shock as the news host discuss Michael and I yet again. From their untrustworthy mouths, it's debated weather we are still together as they felt the need to say we aren't and all because of a video I filmed . . I knew it was going to happen.

That's why I couldn't help but laugh.

Lil Wayne and I.

"Okay, next to talk about - Sam, what do you think of going on with Michael Jackson's skin? . . "
She asks her colleague beside her as she ruffles the many papers that sit upon her deck into a much neater pile. Martha, I believe is her name. She's one of the news reporters and one I'm not the biggest fan of right now. Not wanting to hear them any further - I switch off the television.

"I'm sorry baby. I wasn't thinking turning the stupid thing on . . "

I say softly, feeling as though I should be banished for my mindless actions. Why did I turn it on? Oh god! What a stupid girl I am. Michael removes his head from my chest and unwraps his arms from around me as he now sits beside me. His head and back rest against the headboard with his legs to stretch out, reclining along the bed just like I am.

"It's okay baby. Don't worry about it . . "

My thoughts immediately go back to that night. The night were I know Michael saw such red . . and was just left so upset. His hand comes over to hold mine. "Trust me, it's okay . . ". I look to my right, and into his deep brown eyes and I know straight away that I can't bloody help it as I feel myself melt away.

Straddling his waist with my arms around his neck. "I just feel bad . . " I whisper to him with a sad look upon my make-up less face. Michael leans forward to peck my lips while his large hands rest on my hips. To me, he appears to have not even the slightest shred of bother. His persona is instead very relaxed and at peace.

He shakes his head gently. "I'm not paying attention to that today. Because I'm with you and that's all I care about right now, my girl . . ".

He says with the sweetest smile. 

to be continued.