❛ You pay the price of fame,
So don't be feeling no pain. ❜
⸺ ( Michael x black!oc )
Imani Sade, renowned songwriter and musician, has been working for the biggest Pop stars of the industry while staying behind the scenes for years. Due to her mu...
This is a two part chapter and this disclaimer applies to both part 1 and 2, though part one is the mildest. In this first part, Imani is slowly entering a manic episode, which will be shown in subtle (and not so subtle) ways. So if it seems like she's not acting like herself, you know why. I'm doing my best to handle her with care, and I am sending love and peace to anyone who struggles with mental health issues ♡.
Another thing that mainly applies to the following chapters. Themes of grooming will be explored in relation to Michael and his bond with Diana. If you're one of those who sees nothing strange about their relationship, well, I'm not sorry babes.
❛ My heart went out to play But in the game I lost you What a price to pay. ❜
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PENSACOLA . FLORIDA FEBRUARY 11th . 1988
MICHAEL
𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 and chest as I called for a break, after the dancers and I finished rehearsing the choreography for Smooth Criminal, yet again. I was handed a clean towel, and slackly wiped the sweat off my skin. Pensacola decided to be hot today, instead of the pleasantly warm weather we had gotten used to for these past two weeks.
Unbuttoning the first four buttons of my blue shirt, I spoke into the mic. "Eddie, I noticed you were a little sloppy on the moonwalk." I raised my hand, using my finger to gesture for him to come closer. After asking him to, he moonwalked, and I tutted when seeing the way his feet were not sliding the way they were supposed to. Positioning myself next to him, I demonstrated how to do it the proper way, telling him to focus on my feet. "You know how to do it, but it should look effortless. Yes, you're pushing your feet, but make it seem like they're sliding across the stage instead."
Eddie nodded, assuring me that he'll work harder on it. He better. Tossing the towel away, I was about to make my way to Greg and tell him that he was killing it on the keyboard, before hearing a voice calling my name. I turned around to see Bill walking up the stage, poker faced.
"What's up, Bill?" I asked, walking over to him and wrapped my arm around his shoulder.
"Frank wants to see you, it's pretty urgent." He said rather lowly so no one else could hear.
Looking at him, I asked. "Is everything alright?"
Bill pulled a weird face. I knew he wanted to say no, but didn't so that he wouldn't stress me out. That stressed me out. "C'mon, Mike. He's by your trailer."
The walk to my trailer was wordless, and fast paced, mostly because I wanted to get back to work as soon as possible. Whatever DiLeo had to say better be worth my damn time.
