Michael Jackson Fantasy: Let Me Love You

Faith Tells Michael That He's Beautiful

I woke back up and looked at my clock. It was 9:30 A.M. I sat up on my bed and thought about the nightmare I had lat night. Does Faith think that I'm ugly? All these kinds of thoughts just kept filling my head up; so bad in fact I got a headache. I got up and put some clothes on and went downstairs to make some breakfast.

I went into the kitchen to see Faith sitting at the dinner table with a cup of cocoa. I walked towards the table, but then I stopped. Wait, does Faith want to see me like this?

Before I could respond, Faith turned around and said, "Good morning, Michael."

She smiled at me. Hey, she's smiling at me. Maybe she doesn't care.

"Good morning, Faith."

I walked towards the table and sat down beside Faith.

"Do you want some cocoa? I can make you some." She asked.

"Uhh, no. I'm okay." I said nervously.

"Okay." She said.

She continued to drink her cocoa. I just stared at Faith. I never took my eyes off of her. The more I stared at her, the more I just adored her. I bit my bottom lip and looked at her up and down.

She looked at me and asked, "What?"

I shook my head a little and said, "Oh, nothing."

"Michael, are you sure you're okay?" She asked.

"Uhh, yeah, I'm okay." I said.

She just looked at me with a concerned look.

"What?" I asked.

She pushed her cup to the side and said, "Michael, I know you're lying. What's the matter? Does your tummy still hurt?"

"No, my tummy is fine."

"Then what's the matter?"

I sighed, looked down, and said, "I had a nightmare last night."

She hesitated and said, "Oh. Are you okay?"

"No."

"What happened?"

"I had a nightmare about you. You basically said that I was hideous and never wanted to see me again."

"Oh, Michael."

"I know. I was just a dream, but I can't help thinking..."

"Thinking what?"

"That you actually do think that I'm ugly."

"Michael."

She scooted her chair in front of me.

"Just say it. I'm hideous."

"No, you're not."

"Yes I am."

I started crying.

"No you're not, Michael."

"Yes I am, Faith. Just admit it--"

"Michael!"

I looked up at Faith. She grabbed my hands and caressed them with her thumbs.

"Michael, I don't think you're ugly."

"You don't?"

"No. Why would I think you're ugly?"

"Because of the nightmare."

"Michael, it was just a dream. I do not, never have, and never will think that you're ugly...ever."

"Really?"

"Yes. Michael, you're not ugly. You're--"

"I'm what?"

"I really don't want to say this because you're a guy, but...you're beautiful."

"Beautiful?"

She let go of my hands, stood up, and said, "I should have never said that. I'm embarrassed about it now--"

"Wait!"

I grabbed one of her hands and she sat back down.

"How am I beautiful exactly? Look at me." I asked.

"Michael, you shouldn't be insecure about what you look like."

She put one of her hands on one of the sides of my face.

She continued, "Michael, I wouldn't care if you ended up being bald. I wouldn't care if you were born or got into an accident and your face turned out to be disfigured. You are beautiful no matter what. Don't listen to what people or your dreams say about your looks because they are wrong."

I sighed and smiled. Then I grabbed her hand and kissed the top of it.

"Thanks, Faith."

"You're welcome."

We stared each other in they eyes.

"Well, I better get to work. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay. Bye."

I got up from the table and went to work.