One (A Michael Jackson Fan Fiction)

Chapter 21

Shows went by in a blur now, each night pretty much the same as the last. Some nights the setlist would change ever so slightly to give us something fresh and new to look at so we wouldn't get bored and lose focus. It was impossible to be bored when he was on stage, though. His every move captivated you. It was as if the song had come alive just to perform to you through him. The energy was ceaseless.

While many mornings were spent recuperating from the constant speed of the tour, relaxing in the hotel room or laying out by the pool, the mornings I spent with Michael grew more frequent. He liked having someone to talk to, someone to share adventures with, and he knew I wouldn't decline.

This morning was one of those mornings. Michael and I walked barefoot down the shores of Nice. The August warmth soaked into our flesh as the sun rose into the sky, dispersing it's orange and red flames across the land. I crouched down, picking up a sand dollar that had been carried in by a wave. It sat barely visible, lodged in the sand. Holding it in my palm, I traced the white designs engraved into the once living creature. After a moment, I set it down once more, at a distance from the waves that rolled in to claim shells for the sea. Perhaps a child would come exploring later today and find it.

Michael stood a few paces away, feet sinking into the sand each time the water receded, a blanket draped over his shoulders. His silhouette stood engulfed in the rays of light that peaked from behind him. I walked over to him, standing by his side, watching the waves roll in. The constant rhythm of the ocean was hypnotizing, lulling us into a state of relaxation so desperately needed. The wind kicked in, sending a small flock of seagulls soaring into the air. They rode the wind as if it were a wave to be surfed, hovering above us in search of a meal. Michael's blanket caught the air too and for a moment it came alive, billowing behind him as if they were his own pair of wings, connected to him by the two corners he held clasped in his hands. When the breeze calmed, Michael lifted his voice.

"Do you hear it?" he asked.

I was taken aback by the question, unsure of what I was supposed to be hearing. My ears strained, searching for some sound I had been overlooking. Eventually I gave up, shaking my head in response.

"The boom of the surf... it's the heartbeat of the earth. A rhythmic drumming that makes the world come to life." He explained, listening once more.

We stood there for what seemed an eternity, listening to the pulse of the planet, watching the fish dart under the waves and the crabs crawl along the sand. I hiked up my pant legs and strolled further into the water, dipping my hand in the cool water. Quickly, I flicked my wrist and sent a small rush of water towards Michael. Only a few drops landed on him but the challenge was in motion. He flung the blanket into the sand and joined me in the water, splashing as another wave rolled in. I turned quickly, trying to dodge the incoming rainfall.

The droplets ran like ice down my spine, sending a chill through my body. I spun quickly, whipping a spray of water at him and he backed away, narrowly missing the shot. I groaned in frustration. How was he so good at this. With the exception of a few drops, Michael was completely dry. Too focused on the task at hand, I didn't see the counterstrike until it was too late. It struck me head on, soaking my face. Salt dripped into my eyes, setting them on fire. I cursed under my breath, blinking rapidly in attempt to get it out and Michael ran towards me, face paled so much that you'd think he had seen a ghost.

"I'm so sorry Quinn, I didn't mean to." he stammered out, pulling his sleeve over his hand and wiping my face dry. I couldn't help but to laugh with how worried he was.

"It's okay, Michael. Honestly." I assured and he reluctantly stopped pampering me. "It's all good now." I smiled. He still seemed hesitant so I reactivated the game, smacking the water with my palm. Michael screeched and ran laughing, but the earth beneath him shifted with the tide and down he went, submerged entirely in the sea. For a brief moment my heart stopped. The ocean was dangerous once the waves had you, but luckily, he reemerged. His hair was plastered down, curls dripping, and his clothes clung tight to his body. When he had collected himself, bursts of laughter sputtered from his lips and he smiled at me. It was a smile that could cure the deepest heartache.

In the distance sounded a cannon launched every day at noon; our signal to return to the arena for show prep. "Does that mean I won?" I asked.

Michael playfully shoved at my shoulder and we strayed from the sea. He wrapped himself back into the blanket, letting it protect him from the wind that chilled the water on his skin. Most of it had dried by the time we arrived at the Arena and the two of us stepped into his trailer to put ourselves back together. Karen was already waiting inside.

"What in the world..." she gaped. Michael snuck past her and grabbed two towels from a shelf, tossing one to me. "Michael, you're soaked." she complained, plucking at one of his salt crusted curls. He wiped down his face, rewarding her with a grin as the towel passed his lips.

"Sorry." he mumbled but she knew he didn't mean it.

I dried myself and set down the towel, waving farewell as I left the trailer and made my way to the lighting crew.