Journey

Mirror

Michael hated everything right now. It was all too vile, he even scoffed as the word demonic ran through his head. He wanted so much to trash this entire bathroom, mirror included.

He has before. And after the tantrum, he did calm down a lot, but that was years ago. He was grown now, he was supposed to be an adult. An adult who's calm and collected. How would it look if THE Michael Jackson threw a fit and caused a huge mess just because he was tired and beyond the meaning of hungry?

It's just it was all too much! He could see himself changing drastically. The hard work you did to get him healthy, to make him see just how beautiful he really was. The months it took for you to teach him how to relax and actually be a little carefree. To make him understand that eating wasn't a disease and that he didn't need to be perfect, all that was slowly draining from his body.

He's becoming the person he was before you. And with you not here, he finds that he doesn't even have the strength to fight it, his mind was accepting this. Every day he finds himself agreeing with what those bloodsuckers tell him. The words "fat" and "not good enough" circulated in his mind far too often for him to ignore.

Michael stepped on the scale: 210.

He sighs closing his eyes. It's not enough. Google says he is fine, exactly where he needs to be for a man that's his height and age. You would panic and order all his favorites before he could even think. His management says he's one step away from diabetes.

He has no other choice but to believe the ones who worked for his interest...right? Weren't they there for his interest?

Even now, as he stands in the mirror he can see how they were a little right. He looked terrible. His face was paler than normal and the dimple in his cheek was already gone. The black mullet that you loved to caress and tug on so much- something that he kept from the They Don't Care About Us video shoot after you begged him for hours- was now sticking up in every direction. The oversized shirt that you bought him in Italy when he was growing too big for his clothes now showed his collarbones and patches covering his chest. The love handles that you loved to pinch were slowly going too. Even his stomach which you used to rub in order for him to fall asleep and pat when you told him how proud you were when he ate all his food, was now smaller. Not completely flat but small enough that the shirt now only had a slight bulge. All just another reminder of you.

To tell the truth, Michael knew he was relapsing but he couldn't seem to tell them that he was fine the way he was. He hated that he was so compliant with everything but the last thing he needed was to draw this tour thing out because he was fighting with the company. The sooner he could get this over with, the sooner he could be in your arms.

Last night he couldn't even get the few hours of sleep he needed. He stared blankly at the wall as he took out some rash cream to rub on his thighs, a simple action that broke his heart a little more. He remembers how you used to do this for him, messaging his legs after a long day while poking fun at how thick he's gotten. He chuckled when he remembered how you used to catcall at him when he would pass by. Now he missed the tightness, the shorts that strained against his thighs had room to breathe something he never knew he would be sad over.

His mind was as dark as the room at night, becoming plagued with the thought of you going about your day thinking that he was fine when he was suffering so much. He not only looked like shit. He felt it too.

Getting into the shower, he let the hot water scorch his body. He deserved the punishment for being so messed up. He scoffed when he thought about how long it's been.

20 days.

20 days of training.

20 days of starving.

20 days of lying to you.

He's never lied this much in his life. But he knew that if he told the truth, you would throw a fit. Maybe it was for the best, maybe he needed to lose a little more weight. 

You were at a spa center with your best friend, Anissa. You've been a little on edge since the phone call you had with Michael.

He was panting hard into the phone full-on ignoring your questions instead redirecting the questions to ask about you. His voice was strained like he couldn't catch his breath.

"Michael, baby, what's wrong?" You asked concerned.

"N-nothing." He panted, "I just got to the hotel. Don't worry about it. How are you, love? I miss you."

You smile shyly at his words getting ready to respond when suddenly you heard muffled yelling then you clearly hear Michael's voice take in a shuttered breath, "Actually baby. I gotta go," he says catching you off guard, "I'll call you when I can. Love you." Then he just hangs up.

You only said four words to him, the call didn't even last a full minute. Yet, it's been five days since then. He won't answer anything and you were more than a little worried, you were damn near ready to send a whole letter but Anissa stopped you.

Anissa helped a lot. Calming you down and putting logic back into your head. "You know how much goes into touring. You own a management company, babe. He's just busy. Stop frowning before you get wrinkles." She soothed the scrunch between your brows. Telling you about how she was 'psychic' so she booked a spa day to help you cool off.

You laugh before giving her a hug, thanking her for caring so much about you. She knew how lonely you were.

Your time spent with Michael was one where you both realized that you two rotated around each other. It wasn't unhealthy but you were in sync and peaceful. But now that was getting tested and it's mainly the reason why even though you were getting an expensive massage and facial, your mind was still centered on his well-being. But you trusted Michael and you hoped that he knew he could come to you for anything. There wasn't a person you wouldn't ride harder for. The only matter is if he understood how important it was for you to hear his voice and make sure he was okay.