How Do I Tell Him? :: An MJ Fan-Fic

Chapter 3

  I woke up the next morning, head pounding from the craziness of last night. I glance at the clock next to me, though not able to render the digital numbers in front of me. I rub my eyes for a bit, and it becomes clearer.

6:25 AM, it tells me. Early bird gets the worm I suppose.

  I sat up, still rubbing my sleepy eyes, yawned, and stretched the tiredness out of me. The more I stretched; the more I yawned. I was too lazy to get out of my pajamas, so I walked (like a zombie) to the door, opening it. Upon tugging the door, I walk out - only to be knocked back on my butt, but with a steaming hot liquid splashing all over me along with a shatter. I hold in my yelp.

  “I am SO SO sorry Michelle!!” I hear that soft voice say to me. It was Michael. I open my eyes back up and see a giant brownish stain in the center of my top, and a white mug-like object broken into pieces. He helps me up and grabs a hand-full of paper towels.

“Hey, hey; it’s fine!” I say, gently pushing the towels away, “I need to change out of these PJs anyway.”

He slightly smiles, still looking a bit sad from the incident. “I was just gonna wake you up with some coffee.”

“It’s OK, really!” I smile, receiving a smile in return, “Be right out.”

  He nods and closes the door back for me. Walking to my closet, I find an outfit that [surprisingly] I forgot that I packed, a very pretty one. So I change into it. It was an outfit from a few years back but I still fit into it, perfectly might I add.

“This is TOO cute..I have to even it out.” I whisper to myself while staring at myself in a full body mirror. Just then I had a wonderful idea, while going through the back of the closet.

“THIS will be great.” I say to myself devilishly.

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I open the door, slowly yet quietly. Looking both ways, I focus my sight on an unsuspecting Michael Jackson, sitting on the couch, watching TV. Without making a sound, I tip-toe towards him, putting on a scary werewolf mask from a Halloween costume a year before. He doesn’t seem to sense anything.

I jump above his head with the help of the back of the couch, turn around mid-air, and land perfectly in front of him. Michael jumps as if he’s seen a ghost, or a werewolf (hehe), and looks horrified for a second..then he notices the outfit, and laughs.

“Rawr..?” I growl. DO they even growl?

“Nice try Michelle.” he laughs, getting up and pulling me onto the couch. Sit here, I made you another cup of coffee.

“Don’t spill this one on me please, I’ll melt!”

We both laugh.

  He gives me the mug, and sits next to me, leaving about an inch of space. He didn’t seem to notice, but I sure did. I hope he doesn’t notice the pinkish pigment of my cheeks. I cleverly hide it with my hands while sipping my coffee.

“So..You ARE okay, right?” Mike says, breaking the ice, “Last night, I mean. You had me really worried, I checked up on you at least three times, because after that incident - I couldn’t sleep.”

I swear, at this point the pinkish pigment of my cheeks got rosier with each word in that sentence.

“I told you Mikey I’m ALRIGHT,” I smile, burying my face into the mug, using it as cover. “And you really checked up on me all night?”

“Yeah..Just making sure you were okay..” He looks down at his mug, holding it firmly with both hands. I could have sworn I saw a bit of rosiness in his cheeks, but it had to of been my imagination.

I look over at him as he keeps his focus down, and smile.

“That’s real sweet.” I say, putting down my mug, hugging him. He hugs back, a bit tighter, smiling lightly. The hug could have lasted forever if it was up to me.

Why do I feel so weird about this?

He is JUST a friend..

..A kind, sweet, caring, cute, and wonderful...

friend..