You were at Michael Jackson's 45th birthday party. Everyone was having fun and dancing. Even some fans were able to get there, but only the restrained and adequate ones. The Pop King's friends have long congratulated him. But suddenly he went up on stage and grabbed the microphone from the stand, wanting to make a speech.

Nick Carter... Nick Carter, come on! I love you. His face lit up with a smile. I'm embrassing, I know. Michael turned around. Aw, is this a cake? Hey-... Hey! Where are you taking my cake? The words sounded stormy, embarrassing, and jerky at the same time. It seems like someone had a lot to drink.

You went on stage and took the microphone. Don't worry, he's just joking.

We understand everything, love!

You waved at them with a fake smile and pulled Michael away with you.

It seems my Queen needs her King. I really don't want to leave you all, but duty calls.

Come on, Mimi, come on. You dragged him by the scruff of his neck.

Back in their bedroom, Michael fell on the bed.

We haven't even tasted the cake, darling.

She sighed. I'll bring you as much as you want. But you can barely stand on your feet. I'm really worried about you.

Aw... I'm so flattered. He laughed, tracing small circles on the blanket with his finger.

Don't burst.

I'll never burst, sweetheart. Jackson stretched the black shirt a little and pulled you along. My beautiful love, hehe. Michael nuzzled you, snorting. I love you very much. He purred a little.