Journey

Training

Michael's happy atmosphere changed as soon as he stepped on the jet. The feeling was maddening as he was overwhelmed with tour outfit sketches, stage designs, setlist ideas, and a whole bunch of other stuff that he really didn't want to care about. But he knew that there were people counting on this experience. Those who spent their lives wanting to work with him and fans who haven't seen him in years. His name was almost a curse but he couldn't lie and say that he hated what he did. Michael was grateful and prays every morning thanking God for his gift and the ability to share it with the world.

The ride was smooth enough to where he could relax but he loathed flying so much that he definitely couldn't sleep. He was actually pretty hungry so he unbuckled his seat belt and made his way to the makeshift kitchen in the rear of the plane. His hand reached for a bag of Lays chips when someone grabbed his wrist. Michael looked up to see his manager who gave him a weary smile and placed an apple in his hand.

"Here Mike eat this." He said smiling as if he had saved the world.

Michael looked down at the apple before looking up at the manager with a hardened face.

 "Uh...no? If I wanted an apple I would have grabbed one." He quipped, putting the apple back and gabbing the chips. He made his way back to his seat, finding it odd that his manager and assistant were sharing looks he couldn't read. Or that he didn't want to read.

The plane landed at 3 pm, giving Michael and the team enough time to go to the hotel and rest for two hours before making their way over to the stadium where the first day of practice is being held.

The rest was needed as Michael didn't notice how much the plane had his nerves on lock. His manager got him at 5 and they rode a tour bus over to the stadium. Michael snacked on a pop tart and water on the way there. He sat in the very back so that no one could tell that he was eating. He figured by now what was happening and he wanted to avoid that talk as much as possible.

To be honest, he needed you here. Michael himself didn't have the courage to do this alone. He felt so isolated and looked down upon. It's only been a few hours and he just wanted to cry. To make matters worse, this was the first time he's ever been away from you this long and he's only now realizing how attached he is to you.

Pulling out his phone he dialed your number.

You picked up instantly. Your mood elevated, "Chubby bunny! How was your flight."

Your voice was truly everything he needed, "Stop calling me that," he laughed, "it was fine. I still very much hate flying. I miss you." He whispered the last part.

"Awe I miss you too, Michael. I just need you to be okay. Did you eat?"

He looked down at the pop tart wrapper and sighed, "I just had a snack. I'll eat later babe. We're headed to the stadium now. In fact," he looked out the window craning his neck to see, "we're here now."

You're a little disappointed at how tired he sounds and that the phone call is coming to an end. "Make sure you eat a full meal, I don't need my baby getting sick."

Michael smiles, "okay mommy whatever you say,"

You shake your head even though he can't see you, "Boy don't play with me like that," his angelic laugh fills your ears before you hear some shuffling then he's back, "I gotta go babe but I'll call you tonight. I love you."

Your heart flutters, "I love you too Michael." You respond before hearing the phone click and then silence.

Michael places a hand over his heart because damn maybe he's a little whipped. His thoughts are interrupted when his name is called for him to check out backstage.

He spends hours doing the sound checks and helping spice up the new choreography. He's blessed that the musicians that had played with him before are back so it wasn't something brand new for them. They knew what he liked so it was only a matter of tuning them up so that what he hears in his head is what is played out.

The choreography was a different matter altogether. There were some old dancers but there were also faces he's never seen before. His lead dancer had greeted him with warmth and love. Even making light fun of his weight, telling him he looked good and how he now had someone waiting for him to come home. He and Michael talked for a while over different ideas before gathering the dancers for some stretches.

Michael still wasn't completely comfortable in his new body and he noticed that the extra weight slowed his movements down as he was practicing. Not to say that it was bad, but he was the King of Pop for a reason. His movements will always be twice as fluid as a hundred dancers put together. Michael himself could see that he was awkward but he knew it was only a matter of practice so he wasn't too concerned with it. Believe it or not, although he wasn't comfortable showing it, he loved his look. He liked how healthy he was now and absolutely loved how you loved it too.

So Michael was crushed when back at the hotel his manager, assistant, and the executives over FaceTime teamed up on him.

"I-I don't understand." He said quietly.

"To put it nicely Michael, you're fat. And this is going to affect the way fans view you. You have an image you need to keep, Michael. So we're putting you on a training plan and diet."

Michael looked at his manager with a look of betrayal, his mind immediately recalling the last words of Julius Ceaser in the Shakespearian play. Et Tu Brutus
He couldn't believe that they were doing this to him. He knew that wasn't exactly fond of him but he had hoped his manager and assistant would at least be on his side. Michael clenched his fist as hot tears of anger streamed down his face, "what the fuck." He whispered to himself.

"Now Michael," one executive spoke, "this is for your own good. You don't want anyone to see you like this do you?"

"Like this?" Michael repeated with disgust.

"You know... like that." The man motioned toward his stomach.

It was 3 am and he was exhausted, angry, and hungry. He knew that he couldn't win this, at least not right now when he was so emotionally compromised. But a tiny part of him felt like they were right. No one wanted to see an overweight Michael Jackson. That wasn't attractive. He already knew he wasn't the best looking so why add to that by gaining all this weight? A part of him was angry at himself for letting you do this to him..... for Michael doing this to Michael.

Michael was drained. So he gave in.

He told them that he would do the training and diet. They literally rejoiced in front of his face, telling him that he was a 'legend' for letting them do this. They pretend as if he was invisible as the executive ended the face time and his manager and assistant went over the details of the plan. He was to eat only 200 calories a day.

He scoffed at that. He was 5'11, there was no way he could survive like that.

In the mornings they would add a time slot for a personal trainer to come to the hotel gym and train him.

That morning Michael lay in his bed, the covers uncomfortable against his skin as he recalled the phone call he had with you before he got in the shower. He tried his best to pretend that everything was fine but you were too smart. You knew there was something up with your man but seeing as he had been running around all day, you chalked it up to him just being tired. When you asked him if he enjoyed his meal, Michael actually froze for a second. Stuttering through his words, he told you that it was delicious and that he wanted you to try it too.

It was the first time he'd ever lied to you. A fact that hurt him more than he thought it would.

He cried himself to sleep that night. Only to wake up 4 hours later to the knocking of his assistant. It was time to start his new regime.