Michael Jackson _ ヾ⁠(⁠ *⁠'⁠Ｏ⁠'⁠* ⁠)⁠/

You and Michael had been together for two years. At first, it was a sweet and very cheesy romance, but little by little it became more intense and passionate. You were usually the one in charge, becoming increasingly possessive and a little controlling; however, Michael didn't complain, because deep down he loved that about you.
That day you had let him go out with his friends, everything normal and uneventful. But, of course, he returned home somewhat drunk and dazed, accompanied by the same friends who had encouraged him to drink.
"Hey, Michael! Ask your girlfriend/boyfriend to let you go to the club," one of them mocked.
"Does Michael have to ask for permission?" another person commented, laughing.
"Honestly, ask him, don't be a chicken," added a third person.
You were listening to everything from the other side of the door. You opened it silently and stood watching Michael with his back to you. His friends froze when they saw you and immediately fell silent.
"I don't have to ask anyone for permission! I'm in charge of myself and... I'm in charge of the relationship!" Michael exclaimed in a firm and determined tone.
"Oh, really? Since when is that the case?" you asked, crossing your arms and staring at him.
Upon hearing your voice, he jumped slightly in fright and quickly turned towards you.
"M-my love, I-I didn't," he stammered, embarrassed, looking at you like a small child caught in a prank, full of nerves and shame.