Michael Jackson Imagines

• Strong Mind, Fragile Heart •

~ Thank you so much for 500 reads, guys! I think I'll publish another book of mine soon too. :) ~

"Michael, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." He answers quickly and continues biting hiss lip and tapping his foot against the floor. I sigh. He's been doing that since this morning without stopping. Literally. As soon as we woke up I noticed there's something odd about his behavior and asked him about it, but the answer is always the same: "Nothing." He doesn't talk at all, he has that anxious look in his eyes, he keeps biting on his lip and he either taps his foot against the floor either fiddles with his fingers. I desperately want to find out what's wrong and help him somehow. However, it seems like he doesn't feel like cooperating. What concerns me the most is that he rarely acts like this, and when he does, he usually wants to talk about it with me.

I decide to leave him alone for a while and pack the last ones of my stuff, since we have to go back to LA today. We did most of the packing yesterday, thankfully, since I'd probably forget half of my clothes here due to my worry about Michael's strange behavior.

What could've possibly happened? He was perfectly fine during the last few days, nothing bad has happened. Did I do or say something that upset him? Did he do something he feels bad for? Millions of thoughts run through my head, but neither have I valid arguments for.

After I get all of my stuff packed and change into a pair of black jeans, yellow hoodie and prepare matching sneakers, put my big black glasses on, 'cause I can't see a thing without them, I go to check up on Michael in hope he's feeling better now.

"Mike?" I peek through the door of his bedroom and spot him laying in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He doesn't even acknowledge my presence, let alone look at me or answer me. I lay on the bed next to him and he just glances at me before moving his gaze back to the ceiling. Great, I thought he'll be better now, but the situation is completely opposite. "Love, please, tell me what's wrong." I plead resting my left hand on his chest while propping myself up on my right one. "I'm worried, you've been acting so distance since we woke up. I want to help you with whatever's bothering you. C'mon, Michael, you're scaring me."

He looks at me, his deep brown orbs searching mine. He opens his mouth to say something, but he just sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I made you so worried for no reason. Everything's okay, I'm just making a big deal out of nothing." He removes his hands from his face and huffs.

"You've never acted like this before, it can't be unimportant. Tell me, I want to know and make you feel better about it." I encourage him.

"I- you- umm..." His cheeks turn slightly pink and I peck the corner of his lips gently.

"Relax. It's me, you know you can tell me anything."

He inhales and continues. "You're the first woman who has seen me naked ever since I have vitiligo." He says so quickly I barely understand him, pursing his lips right after.

My heart softens at his confession and I smile. "Oh, baby..." I stroke his dark curly hair and peck his forehead.

"That actually didn't come up to my mind yesterday, it was this morning when I realized that. I felt so... I don't know. Vulnerable, I guess, and exposed. My mind keeps telling me there's nothing to worry about, for you've seen how my skin looks like already, but my insecurities think otherwise. I'm so sorry I acted like this, I made you worry for nothing."

"Your mind is right. You're gorgeous, Michael. You truly are. I saw all of your body yesterday, and, trust me when I tell you, I adore every single detail."