❥𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 || 𝑀𝐽 𝐼𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠 • 𝑉𝑜𝑙𝑢𝑚𝑒 𝐹𝑜𝑢𝑟❥•

•❊Conspiring❊•

NOTE BEFORE YOU READ:
APOLOGIES FOR ALL ERRORS.

•⊱♡⊰•

✽SET IN THE BAD ERA✽

|1989|

Chewing on your lip gently, you closed your eyes and moved your head from the left side to the right. Your neck muscles were rather tense, and you were moving your head in a bid to get your nerves to relax slowly. Seated backstage, you were able to see everything that was unfolding on the stage area, and despite the fact that your neck pains were troubling you - you did your best to focus on what was going on.

Michael was performing on the stage area, snapping his fingers constantly as he moved around the floor. His feet seemed to glide along the surface, creating the illusion that he was defying the laws of, to an extent, gravity. You worked as his personal assistant, and you had been doing so for the past eight months - enabling you to learn a great deal from the man that was known as the King of Pop.

In the months during which you had gotten to know Michael, you had learned that he was more than just a very talented man. He had a big heart, and a very unique way of thinking - meaning that his ideas were always larger than life. In fact, it was safe to say that he was larger than life. Whenever he was around, everything seemed to fall into place, and everything seemed to make sense. You were not sure if that was the popular opinion, or whether it was just you that possessed this mindset.

The music began to play loudly, making you wince slightly as the loud beats began to resound in your chest. You loved his music, but at present moment - it seemed to be a tad bit too loud, due to the fact that you were feeling a little unwell. For some reason, you wanted to throw up and your head was spinning. This was the first time you had ever felt like this, and the fact, that you were now experiencing the aforementioned sensations, scared you a bit.

Michael was currently on his Bad World Tour, and that meant that you got to travel, a great deal, with the man. As his assistant, you always did your best to be there when he needed you, constantly taking note of what he needed and what he wanted to be recorded. The two of you had become good friends, during the time that you had both spent together, and it was safe to say that the pair of you shared a special bond - a bond like no other.

Karen, Michael's makeup artist, walked up to you with a glass of water in her hand. This was the second glass, of such, that she had brought to you - in a bid to help you feel better. Holding it out to you, she kept her eyes on you as she studied the features of your face. It was no secret that your skin was pale, and that your eyes looked incredibly larger than normal.

"Thanks," you took the glass from her and brought the edge up to your lips, sipping on the clear liquid slowly. Folding her arms, she continued to stare at you for a brief minute before gently cocking her head to the side.

"(Y/N), you look very sick," she remarked. "Perhaps you should go back to the hotel and rest. I'm sure Michael won't mind,"

Pulling the glass away from your lips, you blinked rapidly as you tried to get your mind to focus on the words that you chose to reply with. "I'm....f-fine," you shook your head slightly.

You had almost never been sick whilst working for Michael, and since this was your first time in such a situation - you felt a sense of panic begin to bubble with the depths of your conscience. A part of you did not want to leave, but you knew very well that rest was something that you needed at, at this point.