Reverie - Michael Jackson Imagines

Time Will Reveal✨

Destiny Era

I don't like it, baby

When you're stoppin' me on the floor

'Cause the more I keep on dancing

The more I keep wanting some more

You dabbed the wet paper towel against your burning skin, the upbeat track blared and bounced off the walls of the velvet padded bathroom, causing the migraine you'd unfortunately already acquired to thump all the more.

Tonight was supposed to be about having fun, letting loose and celebrating but you felt far too ill to do any of those.

Your boyfriend Michael was celebrating his album release with his brothers tonight. While you were beaming with pride on the inside, you looked and felt less than thrilled. You would have much rather been at home, sleeping this spell off but you couldn't back out on supporting your Michael.

"You'll have to tell him eventually, Y/N," you inwardly lecture yourself. "He has to know."

You studied your reflection in the mirror. Your complexion was washed out, all the eye make-up in the world could not brighten your dull tired eyes and your hair had fallen flat. You looked and felt exhausted well beyond your short twenty years.

"Y/N! There you are!" the pitchy voice of Michael's sister LaToya snapped you out of your state of self-loathing.

She strides over to the vanity sink, hips swaying underneath the shiny fabric of her dress and heels clicking against the tile floors. She stops to admire her reflection in the mirror, and you can't help but feel a pang of jealousy. If only you could look as beautiful, vibrant and healthy as she.

"We've been looking everywhere for you," she continues, reaching in her clutch and retrieving a tube of red lipstick. "You're missin' all the fun."

You sigh.

"I wasn't feeling all too well, Toya." You reply.

With a fluff of her perfectly feathered hair, she turns to look at you, inspecting your features with a frown.

"Wow, you do look terrible,"

"It's okay. I'm starting to feel a little better," you lie. "I think I'll go back out to the party now."

You grab your beaded clutch by the sink and turn on your heel in an attempt to leave, not wanting LaToya to ask any questions or grow suspicious.

"Wait, Y/N" she speaks, stopping you with a dainty, long acrylic nail adorned hand fastened to your shoulder. "Let me freshen up your make up. Make you look more alive."

You sigh, turning around and returning to the vanity. LaToya reaches in her bag once more,  this time retrieving a small compact of blush that she generously swirls against your cheeks. You hold your breath, secretly afraid of the outcome.

LaToya was practically notorious for her heavy make-up. The natural look was not her scene.

"Perfect!" she squeals before linking her arm with yours. "Now let's go back to the party and grab a drink. It might perk you up a bit."

The music grows louder as you exit the bathroom, the bright lights on the dancefloor now aiding in your headache. Your legs feel like Jell-O and if it weren't for LaToya's support, you were positive you might have passed out.

On the dancefloor's kaleidoscope of colors and bodies, you spot your handsome boyfriend, a bright smile managing to settle of your features as he paces over to you and LaToya.