whatever happens » michael jackson

120

[Invincible era]

Snugly fit in my blue silk robe and a hair towel wrapped around my wet head, I quickly hurried over in my house slippers to the door whose doorbell had been ringing just moments prior.

Unlocking it, there stood my absolute best friend in the world, dressed in just a quick red hoodie and a pair of sweatpants that he seemed to have just haphazardly thrown on. His glasses (which he normally rarely ever wears) were perched on his nose as a baseball cap rested on the top of his head.

"What's with the glasses?" I questioned as I allowed him to enter.

Taking off his shoes at the side and wearing his slippers that somehow wound up at my house, he shrugged, "Was looking at some legal stuff concerning the upcoming Madison Square Garden performance when you called."

Now feeling a bit bad, I apologized, "I'm sorry; I should've given you a warning beforehand."

At that, he shook his head with a fond smile, "I would drop anything in my hands for you. You're my best friend."

"And you're a cheese," I teased, causing him to roll his eyes and follow me upstairs to my bedroom.

He took a seat on the bed as he took off his glasses, ruffling his choppy hair as he threw the cap somewhere in the room, falling back to rest on his elbows. I, on the other hand, began the tumultuous journey of searching for the right outfit.

"Why'd you call me up?" he asked, casually kicking off his slippers as well, his eyes boring holes into my backside as I rummaged through my wardrobe.

"I've got a date tonight," I revealed with a grin, "Gotta look my best."

"A date? As in, a romantic night out?" his voice was alarmed and revealed a little bit of shock as I saw him sit upright in the full-body mirror.

"Yes, it's with a friend of mine from work. He's quite dreamy," uncharacteristically I began to smile, looking in the pile of dresses for something that wouldn't look too formal and wouldn't seem too trashy either.

"Wait, you're trying to tell me your going on an actual date?" his voice now sounded firm as he asked again, causing me to roll my eyes and continue.

"Well obviously, anyways his name is Louis and supposedly he's not into fancy shmancy stuff, so he wanted to take me for a walk around the park, but I don't know which look to donne," I sighed in frustration, before finding some dresses at the back that I hadn't worn in almost 10 years.

A pause of silence.

"You mean to tell me you're about to embark on a courtship with a man from work?" his voice was now a little confused as he said it once more.

"That's what I said, yeah," I dismissed, pulling up a dress in each hand as I turned to face him, "The red one or the navy one?"

His frown deepened as he stood up, his voice incredulous as he asked, "You're going on a date?!"

I huffed impatiently, "We've established that, thank you very much. Now which dress makes me look less fat?" I re-questioned, lifting the bergundy silk spaghetti strap one first, then the deep velvet navy sleeved one next.

"You're not even remotely fat--"

"I guess the red one would look too tacky," I cut him off, mumbling to myself, "Don't want to come off too strong."

Without even giving him a second glance, I continued to look for the rest of the pieces for my outfit.

Michael was now peeking over my shoulder, his hands shoved in his hoodie pocket, stretching the letters on the material.