Book I Of the 'Not Vanilla' Imagine Series.
𝚃𝚆: includes strong language, Sexual content, Explicit content.
Readers discretion is Advised
Imagines Between you & Michael Jackson.
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♛ 1984 Toronto Word Count: 9.2k
"Goodnight, everyone! We love you!" Michael's voice boomed through the microphone, echoing across the packed CNE stadium in Toronto. The crowd roared in response, their energy lingering in the air long after his words faded.
As the final note of the night hung in the atmosphere, Michael carefully placed the microphone back on the stand, its metallic clink barely registering in his ears. He didn't pause to share in the camaraderie with his brothers or revel in the afterglow of the performance. Instead, he dashed past them, his feet barely touching the stage steps as he descended into the darkened corridors beneath the stadium. His heart pounded not from the adrenaline of the show but from the thought of you—only you.
It had been three long months since he last saw you. Three months of silence that weighed heavier on his heart than he could have ever imagined. Three months since the break that was only supposed to be a temporary pause. The day your letter arrived, the same letter that whispered the hope of reconciliation, he began counting down the days until he could see you again.
And tonight, you were here in Toronto. That thought consumed him, driving his every step as he burst through the back doors of the stadium. The double doors slammed against the brick walls with a reverberating thud as he sprinted towards the waiting car. The driver, already aware of the urgency, barely had time to adjust the mirror before Michael slipped inside, slamming the door behind him.
The familiar scent of leather and cologne filled the back seat as Michael settled in, his fingers reaching for his dark aviators. He slid them on with a practiced ease, the cool metal resting perfectly on the bridge of his nose. Even behind the tinted lenses, he could make out the shimmering night sky of Toronto, the stars twinkling like distant beacons against the inky blackness.
The car sped through the quiet streets, the city lights blurring into streaks of gold and white. The drive to the hotel was mercifully short—only about five minutes. Yet each second felt like an eternity, his mind racing with anticipation. As the car pulled up to the discreet back entrance of the hotel, Michael stepped out, adjusting his sweat-soaked clothes. His fingers ran through his damp curls, wiping away the droplets that clung to his forehead.
He walked briskly toward the double doors, his footsteps echoing in the stillness of the night. The hotel lobby loomed ahead, the dim lighting casting long shadows on the polished floor. He knew better than to make eye contact, avoiding the gazes that inevitably followed his every move. If anyone recognized him, it wouldn't be long before a crowd gathered, shattering the fragile moment of privacy he craved.
Michael pressed the elevator button, his hand slipping into his pocket to clutch the key to his suite. The metal felt cool against his sweaty palm, the edges digging into his skin as he held it tightly. The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, a sound that seemed almost too gentle for the storm of emotions raging inside him.
