whatever happens » michael jackson

102

[Bad era]

The smell of the lush greenery infected my nose. That dewy scent I was growing oh-so-familiar with over the years was surrounding me from every which direction, and it gave me that feeling of being so at home; at peace; in comfort.

I soon grew aware of the rustling of leaves from behind my back, and instinctively stilled so as not to disturb that blanket of tranquility surrounding us in our little world. Resting against the bark of the tree, I glanced up from under my lashes to eye Michael.

He had his fedora upturned on the branch of the Giving Tree, his hair wild and unkempt even though it was pulled up in a black ponytail. Sitting crisscross applesauce with his mismatched red and green socks peeking from under his knees, his mind was elsewhere as his dazzlingly white teeth gnawed on his striped HB pencil, a habit I'd scolded him for many a time because of how disgusting I found it. One side of his lavender shirt found its way out of his black slacks, while the other remained tucked in, the little notebook of his placed in his lap.

What made my heart flutter, was that despite being in his own imaginary land, he was still very much there with me, his left arm enveloping me in warmth as it cuddled me to his chest.

For today, we were just sitting up in his beautiful, evergreen Giving Tree, looking for inspiration for new songs. It usually came around this time of the day, with its quietness and tranquility as the sun shone not-too-brightly down on us. The leaves gave us more than enough shade either ways.

Sure, he'd just released an album little over a year ago, but now he was more than ready to come up with new material. It probably wasn't going to be dropped anytime soon, but writing new songs always made us feel better.

With an adorable look of excitement filling his big doe eyes, he muttered something under his breath and scribbled it down in his atrocious and almost indecipherable handwriting.

Catching my stare, he looked up with those kind glassy eyes, "Want to hear it so far, sweetheart?"

"Amaze me," I teased him causing him to mock-glare at me, before clearing his throat and beginning to sing in that sweet, tender voice that would cure world hunger if it could.

"Hold me, like the River Jordan, and I will then say to thee, you are my friend," he paused, eyes flickering to meet mine, before bashfully glancing back and going on, "Carry me, like you are my brother, love me like a mother, will you be there?"

Closing my eyes to immerse myself in the sound, I imagined myself floating towards heaven's gates with his angelic voice luring me there.

"When weary, tell me will you hold me? When wrong will you scold me? When lost will you find me?"

His soft singing stopped, and I found my string of heavenly thoughts being cut off.

Looking to see him scratching his neck, he wrinkled his nose, "So far that's all I've got, I'm kinda stuck on the next part."

"Can I help?" I offered, causing him to nod eagerly.

Taking the pencil and notebook from his hands, I began to jot down words. Random words of humility and despair. Just throwing them in, I squinted at them for a few seconds, before joining between them with a few more words that gave them a sense and a deeper meaning.

Handing it back to him, I saw the light shine and reflect in his tiger eyes. They raced across the lines, and a soft breezy smile strung his  mouth upwards. He hummed to himself a few times, mumbling to himself often enough, then finally cleared his throat.

"But they told me," he began to sing in a significantly higher pitch than before, "A man should be faithful, and walk when not able, and fight till the end but I'm only human," his voice nearly cracked at the end, and I know he felt it inside him too.

Stroking my hair absentmindedly, he spent another half hour testing out words and rhythms, till we finally reached the thing he wanted. He felt something was missing, but hadn't the slightest idea what. The tape recorder in my hand was proving to be handy, since he didn't want to forget the tune the following day.

Day was almost over and dusk was nearing, but we still remained sitting on our branch despite being done with the song.

Resting my head on his strong shoulder, I began to speak softly as the colors of daytime began to morph into shades of the night.

"In Our Darkest Hour
In My Deepest Despair
Will You Still Care?
Will You Be There?"

In my pause, Michael's eyes began to brim with wetness, and he began to inhale sharply, his voice quivering as he spoke after me.

"In My Trials
And My Tribulations
Through Our Doubts
And Frustrations."

Grabbing his hand from my lap, I spread our hands out, the hot flesh pressed against each other, his huge hand fitting my tiny one like a glove, and then I began to speak after his beautiful display of emotions.

"In My Violence
In My Turbulence
Through My Fear
And My Confessions."

Lifting up our joint hands to kiss my knuckles, his tears mixed with my skin, running like two small rivers, carving through the skin as he whispered against it.

"In My Anguish And My Pain
Through My Joy And My Sorrow
In The Promise Of Another Tomorrow."

Feeling my own cheeks grow damp with how deep we felt the words, and how needy we were of each other, I leant my forehead against his, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I'll Never Let You Part."

Shaking as his lips nearly met mine, he spoke one last, almost inaudible whisper.

"For You're Always In My Heart."

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