Chapter One

                                    

                                          
November, 1982
                          
I just want to go home. Is that so much to ask? 
Of course it is. 
The treatments weren't making me better, if anything, they were making me worse. I felt as if every single day, my health would deteriorate just that little bit more. 
Every time I'd sit in this hospital bed, my mind would eventually roam to Michael. I see him on television all the time, he was really making it in the big-time that's for sure. 
I guess it all started with Ben. That's right. That little rat changed Mike's life completely. He went to living in Gary, a small house in Front Street, to some extravagant place in LA. He even starred in a movie alongside Diana Ross. It seemed he had forgotten about me. I mean, of course he had. 
I hadn't forgotten him...it was his twenty-fifth birthday three months earlier, and I missed him that day. 
Infact, not a day went by that I didn't miss him. In my eyes, he was still my best friend, no matter how many fans he had. 
                          
🕑Flash Back🕑
April, 1969
                          
My feet hit the cold tile floor faster than anything as Michael entered my hospital room. 
Squealing his name in excitement, I wrapped my arms around him and savoured the warmth of my best friend. 
"Y/N, be careful!' My mom worried, standing up and parting the two of us, sending me back to my cold bed. 'And hello, Michael." 
"Hi Miss L/N." He greeted, sitting in the seat beside my bed. 
"I've missed you, Y/N!' He smiled, grabbing my hand. 'You're always in here." 
I frowned slightly, missing the old days, when Mike and I could just be free, without the constant stream of hospital visits. I was ten, so I hadn't really been free in five whole years. I mean, as soon as I was out of this hell, I was straight back in within a few days. And when I was out, my mom wouldn't let me do much activity. 
"I missed you too, Mikey." For some reason, he seemed a little off today. Again, I had no idea why. 
Never the less, the conversation carried on as per usual as he carried on and on about trees and stuff. 
He was always so fascinated by nature, and ofcourse he was very nurturing. I didn't mind it, as long as he was happy, as long as he was there beside me. 
"So, are you coming to see me tomorrow too?" I asked. Michael looked down at his hands and shook his head slightly. 
"Well, I'm leaving on a tour tomorrow." He announced. 
"A tour?' I questioned, confusion laced in my voice. 'Where to?"
His reply was short, yet it was enough to tear at my heart strings. 
"Out of Indiana." 
Out of Indiana? How could he do this? How long? When would he be back? 
"What? What do you mean out of Indiana? You can't leave me!" I whined. 
"Hey, its okay. I'm not going to be gone forever. Only for a few weeks."
A few weeks? How is this not a big deal to him? 
"Michael! What am I going to do for a few weeks? I need you! You're the only reason I'm still ha-"
"I'm sorry, Y/N.' He cut me off mid sentence. 'I'll miss you too, but I don't have a choice, okay? I should never have sung in front of my father." His voice turned a mere whisper at the end of the sentence. I could see the look of genuine hurt laced in his chocolate brown orbs, so being the caring friend I was, I wanted to talk about it. 
"Mom could you get Michael and me some water?" I asked, hoping she'd leave. 
"It's Michael and I. But sure, honey.' She smiled, getting up from her seat. 'Don't get up from your bed, please." 
She added before slipping out the door. 
"Mikey what's wrong?' I asked almost immediately. 'What do you mean you shouldn't have sung in front of your father?" 
"Don't worry about it, sis." He smiled dismissively, waving his arm. As his arm passed in the air, I noticed a few small purple bruises, in the shape of finger marks. 
"Mike?"
"Hmm?"
"Why do you have bruises on your arm?"
He swallowed a lump in his throat and tried to laugh it off. 
"I ran into a door." He chuckled.
"A door doesn't have fingers." I pointed out, in a matter-of-fact tone.
He took a deep breath and looked at me in defeat. 
"Fine! I was in rehearsals and I tripped over my microphone cord. Tito grabbed me before I fell." 
I eyed him suspiciously as I viewed the bruises. 
"If that's true, why didn't you just say that in the first place?" 
The young boy stopped for a minute, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 
"I was embarrassed." Before I had a chance to argue, my mom walked back in the room with the water. 
"So Michael, you're actually touring out of Indiana?" She asked, handing him the water. 
"Yes. I really am." He smiled, taking it from her with grateful hands. He looked relieved that the conversation had ended. He hadn't tripped, I could tell by the tone of his voice.
"You really do have a beautiful voice. You'll make it far, darling. I believe in you! Y/N and I are team Michael all the way!" My mom encouraged, handing me my water also.
The conversation only carried on for a further ten minutes before Michael had to take his leave. 
"Please come back soon." I pleaded, my eyes rimming with tears. 
"I promise I will. I'm going to miss you alot more than you'll miss me I promise.' He smiled. 'And don't cry! I'll be back before you know it!" He assured me, pulling me into a warm hug. 
"I love you, Mikey." I sniffled into his shoulder. 
"I love you more, Y/N.' Parting from the hug, he gave me a warm smile and walked towards the door. 'See you in two weeks." 
And he was gone. 
I never saw him again.
                          
~ End of Flash Back ~
                          
I felt gentle tear drops trickle from my eyes at the thought of Michael. At the fact that he never came back for his best friend. He had changed so much as a person, not just physically, but mentally too. There was so much shit going around about his 'bleached' skin and his nose surgeries, people had lost sight of who he really was as a person. Sure, he'd changed, he wasn't my Michael anymore. He was a mega-star, who had no time for sick, old friends. 
I turned on my overhead television and headed to MTV, where the first person I laid my eyes on was the one and only Michael Jackson, singing his number one hit, Billie Jean. 
"I miss you." I whispered, hugging myself tightly. 
I really did. I missed him. But he was never coming back.