4:00 a.m. California

Your father returned late from a huge party celebrating his successful appearance in a documentary about Michael Jackson. It seems he drank much more than he intended. Stumbling over the threshold, Fabio almost fell, but managed to hold on to the wall. His condition was shit. He didn't even have the energy to take a shower. All Jackson could do at the moment was fall on the couch and sleep stupidly for as many hours as it took for his poor, shattered body to sober up. Slowly reaching, the famous streamer lazily flopped on the couch and hugged the pillow.

Hearing the noise in the living room, you woke up. Going down the stairs to the first floor, you saw your father, who dreamed of falling asleep right now without a second thought. Inside, you turned over. Why did he come back so late? Although, these were only his adult affairs, where Fabio didn't want to involve you yet, and he allowed you to simply enjoy life at his expense as the best caring parent in the world!

You pondered. Last week, he almost found something he shouldn't have seen under your bed. Your heart filled with warmth once again. You had long acknowledged your toxic, unhealthy, and obsessive feelings of love for him. The constant capture of forbidden fantasies in your sketchbook only added to this sensation. Chains, a collar, a blindfold, blurred makeup, a destroyed bed... Of course, your father would have buried you on the spot! But right now, he was too derealized to even think about it. And this was a good chance for you to get closer.

As you approached, you gently stroked his hair. Lifting his face from the pillow, Fabio looked at you intently.

It's late, sugar cube. Go to sleep. Before he could fall into a deep sleep, you gently tugged on his hair. Reluctantly, Jackson sat up. What do you want from me? His face was innocent and childlike, with puppy-like eyes that betrayed his confusion and slight worried.

You sat next to him and leaned in close. He smelled of brandy and wine, leaving a slight trail of champagne. It wasn't anything important, really.

Fabio blushed slightly, but he didn't pull away, and he struggled to keep his eyes open, looking at you through half-closed eyelashes.

Don't do anything you'll regret, okay? He bit own tongue.