Michael Jackson Imagines (re-imagine)

I'm crazy for you

(A/N: This is one of the stories in my archive that contains mature and sexual content, to be honest all of my archived works includes sexual scenes. Please proceed at your own discretion.)

Michael has been away for almost a week now, and since our last encounter in Neverland, I haven't received any word from him. Opting not to remain in the mansion during his absence, I find the space devoid of his presence unbearably empty. With little else to occupy my time, I spend my days reclining on our bed, eagerly waiting for his return.

It's not unusual for us to spend time apart, particularly when he's on tour or engrossed in meetings, hospital visits, or charitable endeavors. At times, it almost feels as though I'm not married, as though I don't even have a husband.

For the moment, I'm staying at my mother's house with our daughter, Annalise.

"Mommy?" Annalise interrupts, tugging on the hem of my nighties.

I meet her gaze with a smile. "Yes, sweetie?"

"Where's daddy?" she ask, her eyes brimming with innocence.

Kneeling down to her level, I grasp her tiny hand in mine.

"Daddy is working hard, darling. He's singing and dancing, bringing joy to people's lives. That's why he's not here with us," I explain gently.

"He's not here to make us happy?" she pouts, her disappointment palpable.

"No, no, no... please don't make that face. It makes mommy sad," I chide softly.

Even his own child longs to know how he's doing. I can't help but worry about his whereabouts. I hope he's safe and not doing anything stupid.

"Mommy, can we call daddy?" she asked with a hopeful smile, her eyes bright with anticipation.

I nodded. "Of course, sweetheart. Come here," I said, scooping her up and leading her into our room.

Dialing Michael's number, I waited anxiously as it rang, but he didn't answer.

*knock *knock

"Y/N, Wayne is here," my mom called out, interrupting my attempt to reach Michael. Setting my daughter down, I took her hand and greeted Wayne.

With concern evident in my voice, I questioned Wayne about Michael's whereabouts.

"Wayne, where's Michael?" I asked urgently.

"He's in North Carolina, Mrs. Jackson, and he asked me to deliver this letter to you," Wayne replied, handing me a small envelope containing a yellow piece of paper.

"I'll be on my way now. Please don't worry, Mrs. Jackson. He's safe and all by himself," Wayne assured me before taking his leave.

I nodded gratefully. "Thank you."

Returning to our room, Annalise sat beside me as I opened the letter. At the top, there was a small drawing of a box, accompanied by the scent of his cologne.

I couldn't help but miss his scent, this just makes me want him more.

Y/N,

I truly need this rest

I haven't slept litterally in 4 days now.

I need to be away from phones and Business people. 

I MUST Take care of my Health First.

I'm crazy for you

Love turd.

At the back of the paper, he had written down a new number for me to call.

The way he penned the letter revealed his exhaustion; his handwriting was shaky, and he struggled to form words properly. It pained me deeply that I couldn't be by his side at this moment. Should I reach out to Wayne to arrange a flight to North Carolina, or should I respect his need for rest and solitude?