Red & Black || Michael Jackson

two - change

Swipe. Another old photograph is tucked into the back of the pile.

Swipe. Another memory long since forgotten, or so it seems.

Swipe. Another cherished moment, captured eternally in a single frame of time.

Swipe. Another reminder of how hard it was to say goodbye to the life he once knew.

Swipe.

No matter how often he skims over the images taken on his wedding day to Valerie, it still stings exactly the same as the first time. Even after all she put him and Casey through, Michael still holds a hopeless love he knows can never come to fruition again. He isn't a naïve person, nor is he overly cynical, but his outlook on life and its hardships is painfully realistic to a fault. Although his split from Valerie is not what he wanted, he also acknowledges that it was the only viable solution to the issues with their marriage. Reminiscing on such a beautiful day is, to put it simply, bittersweet.

"Where did it all go wrong, huh?" Michael asks himself. He doesn't fear Casey eavesdropping on his melancholy questioning, as he has already gone to bed for the night. "Why did it all go so horribly wrong, hey, Val?"

The pictures no longer serve their purpose in bringing him ethereal nostalgia, because the reality hits him once again, that she was far from an angel. His logic dictates that a down-to-earth, angelic being would never treat him or their son in the way she did. With this in mind, he slips the pile of photographs back into his suitcase.

Swipe.

The action is completed just in the nick of time, too; for the door to Michael's bedroom opens slowly, allowing the light from the hallway to spill in. Michael glances over, observing the progressively-increasing gap in the door to discover that the tiny silhouette of his son is the culprit.

"I thought you were asleep, Case. What are you doin' awake so late?" Michael rises from his knelt down position on the carpet, approaching the little boy. "Are you alright?"

"I had a bad dream," Casey answers, rubbing one eye in a bid to adjust to the lighting of the room. "I got scared, Daddy."

"Oh." Michael bends down to Casey's height, bringing him in for a gentle hug. "That's okay. Do you want to talk about it?"

Casey withdraws from his father and shakes his head, furrowing his brows to emphasise his fear. "Can I stay in here with you, please, Daddy?"

Michael heaves a softened sigh through his nostrils, using his large hand to tuck some of Casey's hair behind his ears. "Alright. I know it's a big change for you, right now. I just want you to be comfortable, because that's what's most important to me."

"Thank you, Daddy." Casey briefly disappears from sight to grab something from his room, returning moments later holding his teddy bear and his comfort blanket. "Are you tired yet?"

"Not really," Michael responds, mustering a small smile for the sake of his son. "I've just been unpackin' and stuff. There's a lot to get through, isn't there?"

"Where are all my story books? Maybe they're in this bag." Casey kneels down on the floor, before crawling over to one of the suitcases. "I really want to look at all my story books again."

"They're not in that one." Michael abruptly zips the zipper back up on the case, to prevent the boy from looking inside. "But don't worry, because we'll find them. But it's already very late at night. We'll have to look for them tomorrow."

"But Daddy, I want—"

"Please don't argue with me, buddy. I've said we will look for them tomorrow. Alright?" Michael's tone is stern, but not intimidating. "And when we find them, we'll look through all of them together."