1992

mature content!

Neverland was bathing in a beautiful orange sunlight, silent and patient. The carousel horses in the distance reflected the rays back, prancing silently across the metal floors, waiting to make children of all ages joyful yet again. But it was early in the morning and only I stood there on the terrain, slightly shivering of the yet cold air, soon to be warmed by a more pressing sun. My eyes had started watering, not just because of the cold. How come a day was so beautiful and sad, at the same time? I did not notice the soft, calm footsteps behind me, his presence only becoming clear to me when his hands embraced my upper arms, and a warm kiss was planted on my cheek. Not yet did I turn around, for I did not need to to know who this person was. To linger in his embrace only for a moment longer: his arms had wrapped around my waist, his head resting upon my shoulder so that I could feel his curls colliding with mine, sharing its dampness with me. I could smell the scent of bathing items and I knew he'd taken a shower... getting ready for imminent departure.
"Stay here."
I first broke the silence. I wish we wouldn't have to, I wish we could've stayed together like this until forever, right here in the morning air.
He just hummed and clasped me tighter against him, I could feel the soft fabric of his blouse (probably the green or red flannel he so often wore on casual days), a little bit stiff having just been washed and dried.
"Come with me."
The hot air of his breath against my ear caused my heart to skip a beat.

I never stopped being in love with him.

It was then that I turned around to face him, Michael, seeing his hair a bit out of place the way I liked it, he wasn't wearing any makeup: also how I liked it. My hand found its way to his cheek, how it'd so often grazed it. Momentarily he closed his eyes.
"You know I can't."
My voice broke slightly, and I quickly looked away, my hand leaving him. Truthfully, I was terrified. I was terrified of being without him, terrified of him being without me — just terrified to not be together. In the months I was with him, we always were around each other. Simply two souls having found each other, not even necessarily needing a name to their relationship. We just were.
His fingers rose my chin up and my eyes, yet again, met his. The dark orbs never failed to take my breath away, and he knew it, grinning slightly. I started blushing.
"I love how you still do that," he said, pecking both my cheeks and then laying his arm around my shoulder, "walk with me." 
We headed our way to the theme-park, the carousel now becoming clearer in view. Michael hummed a song as if this was a day like any other, as if he wasn't going to tour the world with his music and dance, and I'd be here. Continuing my life as if he'd never been here in it in the first place — but he was, and he had left an inevitable mark. I played with his hand that was on my shoulder.
"You'll visit in Bucharest, yes?" He asked, as if to reassure me, and I cheerfully answered, though my tone obviously was off. Never would I have wanted him to feel guilty about leaving me: this was his work, no, his life, and I was blessed to even be a minor part in that. But that did not mean it did not hurt when he'd leave. We had arrived at the carousel, and playfully, he jumped on, but the horses stayed still. Like a circus master he exaggeratedly pulled me on, and we danced on the platform in stead of the wooden mares. Slow and easy, him singing some song about losing his heart to a circus girl, and I laughed unpretentiously, because despite everything it were these moments that made my heart heavy for him! He then twirled me, and we collided into each other. It was just an excuse to get me closer. A slight breeze moved his curls, as he studied my face with an endearing grin that, once again, caused my cheeks to turn pink. Suddenly, it hit me all at once, and tears started forming — like rain droplets rolling over the still blushed cheeks, and he frowned.
"Girl..." he mumbled, pulled me to him so that I could lay my head on his chest. His hand on the back of my head, the way he always did. I felt his calm heartbeat drumming in my ear and I inhaled a shaky breath. In his arms, I felt the safest.
"I'm sorry," I sighed but I felt him shaking his head.
"Don't be."
His hand stroked my back and oh, how delightful it was to be loved by him. His touch, his scent, his voice... how was I to live by mere occasional phone calls?
"I don't know how I'll do it without you," Michael then said, and I pulled back, looking at him, then taking his face in my hands and kissing him deeply — as if this was the only answer I could give. The sensation of his lips against mine, moving in sync to a rhythm only we knew. A little bit carefully, he kissed me back — he was always timid at first, as if we hadn't done this a thousand times before. After moments, he turned me around, his arms moving to my waist to let me know this was what we were doing now. The polished wood of the middle of the carousel pressed against my back. His fingers fondled with the hem of the silk skirt I was wearing, urging me to clasp my legs around his waist. He was always timid — not afraid, just careful, never wanting to do something I might not like. My hands played with his curls.
"Is this how we deal with it?" I laughed, and he shook his head with that delicious smirk of his.
"Don't blame me! I won't do this until forever..."
And suddenly more pressing, he just pulled up the skirt in its entirety, and I felt a gush of wind hit my bare thighs. He fiddled with his pants, and when he couldn't get the button undone with one hand (he held me up with the other), I helped him, looking at him seductively from underneath my eyelashes, or at least trying to.
"You're messing with me," he mumbled, his voice soft, only meant for me. The tip of his tongue grazed his bottom lip, then he bit his teeth into it, and I was focusing on just that — the feeling of him suddenly pushing inside me coming as a total surprise. I gasped, clenching my eyes shut, but he took my face in his hands and told me to look at him. The tears had not dried yet, and while he was loving on me, he kissed them away, like a sweet promise of hope. We were silent, no words to be said in our last time sharing bodies before he would be gone. I was going to miss this, as well. The way he pushed into me, over and over again, not even aggressively or fast or rough, just...with love in its purest form. I tried to pull him closer to me, to be completely engulfed in his being, in everything that he was, because there were no words that could describe the deep admiration and desire that I felt for him. I could drown in his mere existence. I even loved the fabric of his worn button-up, for it had grazed his skin multiple times and had been washed in his scent. Our sighs accelerated, breathing into each other's mouth as if that was the only way to survive, his grip on me losing its softness, for only now he needed something to hold onto.
"Jesus," he mumbled in his unusual low voice, pulled my head down and pressed my cheek against his, until we both felt the ultimate climax of having loved one another equally. My body seemed to paralyse as I let out a moan, sounding somewhat cross in the silence of Neverland's early June morning.
"I don't know I'll be without this!" Michael laughed, referring to his older statement. I stroked his cheek and smiled.
"You got your shows. That's enough excitement if you ask me."
He shrugged.
"Doesn't even compare to being with you."
There was some seriousness in that tone. His eyes were honest, dark, almost intimidatingly so. My hand was on his shoulder and I remembered what I was thinking earlier. I pulled up the fabric and pointed to it with my eyes.
"Can I have this?"
"This?" He asked rather loudly, stroking his shoulder.
"Yeah! It reeks of you and our lovemaking."
He laughed squealing, in the way he always did, then carefully put me on the ground. My legs were still shaking. He started unbuttoning the blouse and I smiled at the irony. He was undressing only after we had sex.
"Yeah," he smiled, when he noticed mine and understanding. He took the item off as if taking off a jacket to throw it in the audience. It was a rather handsome sight and he rose his eyebrows knowingly. I took the blouse and put it on, buttoning it all the way down and tugging it in my skirt as if this was an actual outfit.
"Looks good!"
Michael stood shivering in his shirt, and I ran away from him, leaving him there without the shirt that I'd taken from him. It was a delightful feeling. But, quick as lightning, he came after me, caught up with me and then took me in his arms. I screamed loudly, and only then I noticed a member of staff walking around the terrace, looking up frightfully at the lost echo somewhere and not knowing where it came from. It made us laugh like two mischievous kids, only us knowing what had happened. Our little secret, but not so secret anymore now that I was wearing his shirt — but what did it matter, especially now?

A couple of hours later Michaels entourage was ready for departure. I had said my goodbyes to everyone with a sad melancholic feeling, but a strange sensation taught me that everything was going to be alright. Distance did not alter my relationship with Michael, if anything, it would strengthen it. Already I felt the itchy longing to see him in Bucharest, which was three months from now. It seemed an eternity, but somehow the familiarity of Neverland and the memories attached to it (for example, I'd never be able to look at the carousel the same since this morning), made it more doable. My duties here only multiplied with Michael gone and half of his staff joining him on tour. There he came, now wearing another flannel in a different colour, his step steadfast and not so sluggish. He was in his work-modus now, not letting anything distract him from doing what must be done. He gave some last demands, ordering someone to take a call in preparation for the flight. Passing me by, he nudged my shoulder, not even looking at me, but knowing I was standing there and not forgetting that. Within minutes everything was settled already, everyone seated in the car but the two of us, and we had to say goodbye. It wasn't a real goodbye — we'd done that last night, just the two of us in bed and even this morning, now, with twenty people waiting impatiently, I could only say the necessary words.
"This is it, then," I said softly, my arms folded but he shook his head.
"No, this is not it," he answered, his tone slightly defensive that it caused me a laugh. Desperately, I tried to steady my breath and not burst out crying again. Not here. Not now. I couldn't handle looking into his eyes, for they would've surely caused exactly that, instead, I fiddled with the collar of his shirt, straightening it, until suddenly he lowered his head to meet my lips again — and I delved deeply into his touch when he embraced me undeniably tight. Room for air escaped me and I wish we had melted together right there, for this feeling was one I had become uncontrollably addicted to. But it left me soon enough, and he simply walked away, because just like me he was empty of words. He stood at the car door, his hand already on its handle,  then turned around again on his heels, his beautiful smile leaving me completely unprepared for what was coming next.
"Marry me in Bucharest!"

—

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Hope you liked this. I bet you did. :D
Also sorry for the many updates, I wanted to edit a few things! Apologies!

L.o.v.e,
magiconthemoon