Reverie - Michael Jackson Imagines

Save The Best For Last✨

Thriller Era

Requested by Superflysister22. Hope you enjoy!

"Y/N, it's late. We weren't expecting you,"

You set the picnic basket on your hip glancing at your best friend's mother's tired and perplexed expression. Even in her bed-clothes, Kathrine Jackson always seemed to look regal.

"I'm sorry," you force a grin. "I should have called but I was so busy baking I lost track of the time. Would you like some cookies? They're still a bit warm,"

A grin manages to sweep across her lips but you still notice a disapproving gleam in her eyes.

"No thank you, honey. Michael is upstairs,"

"Thanks, Ms. Kate,"

Kathrine opens the door further for you to walk in and gives you a knowing wink. For a moment, the worries that had fueled your erratic baking and your impromptu visit seemed to fade away and you felt right at home.

Hayvenhurst was like a second home to you and as long as you'd known the Jacksons, you always knew you were welcome.

You made your way upstairs and had no trouble finding Michael's room at all, having memorized the interior by heart from years of spending time in the mansion. Even if you hadn't, the sweeping, gentle melody of Debussy's Claire De Lune drifting outside his door would have been enough of a giveaway.

You tugged at the golden knob, not even bothering to knock.

"Randy! Can't you read the damn sign - "

Michael, who'd been lying on his bed, engrossed in a book shouted.

You plopped the picnic basket at the foot of his bed, watching your handsome best friend's expression change.

"Oh, Y/N, it's you. You never called and said you were coming over,"

The sound of your name passing through his lips suddenly makes your sullen mood return and you swallow the lump in your throat as you reach over to remove the needle off the classical record, ending the track prematurely.

"What'd you go and do that for, girl?" He groans. "That was the best part,"

You don't respond as you rummage through the basket and retrieve a homemade glazed doughnut wrapped and cellophane. You toss it at Michael.

"Eat up, blockhead,"

Michael glances at the doughnut with a grin that quickly turns into a worried expression.

"You baked?" His Bambi eyes grow wide. "That can't be good,"

To others, your bulk baking was just a labor of love and generosity but only Michael knew that you went on baking sprees when things went wrong and the world felt like it was ending.

Michael knew you better than almost anyone else in the world. The two of you had been friends for well over ten years now and had watched each other grow into the young adults you were today.

When the Jacksons had first moved to California, you'd lived just a block away from their family home. Your mother's had struck up a friendship and you and Michael had bonded over your bug collections.

As time passed on, you found yourselves having more in common than just bugs. You became thicker than thieves.

Whenever Michael wasn't working, the two of you were always together.

You'd grown out of your tomboy phase of bug collecting and Michael's fame had made him a household name but it'd never stopped the two of you from being the best of friends.