MJ IMAGINES (World with Applehead) ON GOING

Rehearsals

Michael invited you to his rehearsals after finding out you had nothing better to do at home. When you arrived at the venue, everything was already in motion. His dancers were stretching, the band was tuning up, and staff were busy setting the stage for his History tour.

You had come an hour early, of course you did. Michael never arrived late, and somehow that energy rubbed off on everyone around him. You took his bag like it was your official job title and made your way to the front row of the audience area instead of backstage.

"Best seat in the house," you muttered to yourself, settling in.

Onstage, Michael was already in work mode. Talking with the director, adjusting details, making sure everything matched his vision. Frank handed him a mic, and the whole room shifted like everyone knew something big was about to happen.

"Alright, we're starting with Billie Jean," he announced. The music kicked in. And just like that, he transformed.

You leaned forward instantly, watching as he moved across the stage like it belonged to him. Every step hit perfectly with the beat, every turn controlled but effortless. Even just rehearsing, he performed like it was already a show.

When it ended, he barely paused. "Again," he said simply. The second run was even sharper. And then came Bad, and suddenly the entire room felt like it had switched into another gear. His energy didn't drop once. If anything, it doubled. Even when sweat started forming at his hairline, he kept going like exhaustion wasn't part of his vocabulary.

You shook your head slightly. This man is not normal.

Next came Black or White. The dancers were starting to feel it now, breathing heavier, movement slightly slower but Michael? Still locked in. Still precise. Still Michael.

Finally, he stepped back. "Alright—ten minute break." The room exhaled at the same time.

He hopped off stage and walked straight to you like it was instinct. You were already ready, towel in one hand, orange juice in the other like you were his personal backstage manager.

"Thank you, baby," he said, flashing that soft smile that made it unfair to stay annoyed at how hard he worked himself.

"You're welcome," you replied, watching him drink. "Before you pass out dramatically on stage."

He chuckled. "I would never be dramatic."
You raised a brow. He paused. "Okay... slightly dramatic."

You laughed under your breath. "You've been dancing like your life depends on it."
"It kind of does," he said lightly, then leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your temple. "Perfect shows don't build themselves."

"You're impossible," you muttered, but your voice had no real complaint in it. "I know," he said easily.

After a few minutes, the break ended. He headed back up, mic in hand. "Next up, The Way You Make Me Feel."

That's when Frank walked in, phone in hand, expression shifting. "Michael... Tatiana's sick. She can't make it today."

Michael's face softened instantly. "Oh—tell her to rest. Is she okay?"

Meanwhile, you were already texting her.
She picked up weakly. "Hey, Y/N..."

Your tone softened immediately. "Girl, you sound terrible. Are you okay?"

"I'll survive... just don't let Michael hear me say that," she coughed lightly. "Tell him I'm really sorry."

"He already knows," you said gently. "Just rest, okay?" When you ended the call, you turned back, only to find a very familiar silence.

A silence where everyone was looking at you.You blinked. "Why is everyone looking at me like that?"

Frank cleared his throat. Michael tilted his head slightly.Then, casually like it was the most normal request in the world...

"Baby," Michael said, "can you replace Tatiana for this one?" Your eyes widened. "Me?" He smiled. "Yeah. You." You pointed at yourself. "I am not a dancer."

"You walked in a straight line earlier," Frank added. "Traitor," you said without looking at him. Michael laughed softly. "Come on. Just follow me. I'll guide you."

You sighed. "So this, ladies and gentlemen is how horror movies start." But somehow... you were already walking toward the stage.

Michael leaned closer as he explained the routine, patient and focused, but there was still that playful spark in his eyes like he was enjoying this a little too much.

"You got it?" he asked. "No pressure, right?" you replied. "None at all," Michael replied, completely unconvincing by the way.

You stepped to the side as the music started. And then he began. Instantly, the whole room shifted again. His voice filled the space, smooth and confident, and you found yourself actually getting pulled into it.

When your cue came, you took a breath.
Just don't fall. Just don't fall. Just don't fall.

You stepped out. And to your surprise, you didn't fall. In fact, you walked. Confidently.
A little dramatic even.Maybe even a little too into it which Michael noticed immediately.

He followed your movement, playing along, that familiar teasing energy slipping into the performance like it belonged there. It stopped feeling like rehearsal and started feeling like a game between you two.

You even gave him a small smile mid-stage like, try to catch me. Frank from the side quietly muttered, "Oh she's learning fast."

After your part, you slipped off stage, slightly breathless but laughing. Frank clapped. "Okay... that was actually not bad."

"I hate that I enjoyed that," you said. "You looked like you enjoyed it," he replied.

Onstage, Michael glanced at you and winked. That alone made your stomach do something extremely annoying.

The rest of the rehearsal flew by. Song after song, movement after movement until finally everything wrapped up. Later, in the car, he slid in beside you, loosening his jacket, finally letting the exhaustion show just a little.

"You did good today," you said softly, brushing his shoulder. "A little?" he asked.
"A little," you repeated.

He leaned closer. "That's funny. Because I remember you stealing the spotlight earlier." You groaned. "I was walking."
"You were performing," he corrected.
You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling now. "You're delusional."

"Maybe," he said, then lightly bumped his forehead against yours. "But I think you liked it." You paused. "Hmm...maybe a little." His grin widened instantly. "Aha."
"Oh my god."

He laughed, then kissed you quickly like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"You're trouble," you muttered afterward.
"You started it," he said simply. And somehow, you couldn't even argue with that.