Michael Jackson Imagines

Fluent in Flower (Dangerous)

I sat on my knees in the garden, the hot California sun beating down on my back. I trim the rose and flower bushes, laying the cut flowers in the basket for later. I hum under my breath "Dream a little dream of me". Little shrieks and joy filled screams draw closer to my ears. I see Mr. Jackson and two of the Culkin boys fight with water. I smile at the scene, and turn back to the roses. I continue my work until I feel the presence of someone behind me. I turn and see the younger of the two, Keiran. I smile at him and he sits down next to me. We sit in silence for a while until Mac ends up joining us. We chat for a while, while I work. Keiran looks in the basket at all the flowers and I can see that he wants to touch one, hold one. Brushing through the bunch, I pull out a yellow rose for each of the boys. "Every flower has a meaning, and what color those flowers are means different connotations. For example, roses symbolize love, right? Different colors mean different kinds of love. Red roses mean romantic love, white roses mean pure love, purple means love at first sight, pink is a way of saying thank you, and yellow means friendship." The boys have a glint in their eyes that I probably sported when I first learned about the language hidden in flowers.

I continue pruning and trimming, each time I clip off an access flower, I explain the meaning. I had moved on to the Lilac trees in the flower bed. "Lilac means a joy of youth, which is perfectly fitting for Neverland. After all, it's a place where you don't have to grow up." A soft high toned voice responds to my comment, "Yes it is. I didn't know the meaning when I had them planted, I just thought they were pretty plants. Good thing they didn't mean anything bad." I nod, shy around my handsome employer. "Yes sir, it is." The four of us sit in an awkward silence for a bit before Mr. Jackson clears his throat. "Boys, your mother is on her way to pick you up. Go ahead and head into the house to clean up, I'll be right behind you." The two nod and take off, Mac coming back to ask for some flowers for his mother. I shuffle through my basket and hand him a small bundle of white carnations, lilies, and sunflowers. "Here Mac. Perfect bouquet for a mother." He smiles and runs to catch up with his brother. Mr. Jackson draws closer to me, I see him shift through my basket with interest and a gentle hand.

I swallow and try to disperse my nervous energy. "If you'd like, Mr. Jackson, I could answer your questions on your plants' meaning. But only if you'd like Mr. Jackson." From the corner of my eye I see him take a seat on the grass. "You don't need to call me Mr. Jackson, Michael is just fine. And yes, I would love to hear more about the language of flowers." I tuck my hair behind my ear and swallow down my nerves. "Well, what would you like to know? You do have quite an extensive garden." He chuckles a little bit, causing me to loosen up just a bit. He lifts a hand to the gardenia bush, gently cradling a flower. "What are these?" I glance up at the plant and clear my throat. "Those are Gardenias. They're very fragile flowers. Their petals bruise easiest, turning brown. They mean secret love. They pair beautifully with red carnations, meaning lost love. Or on a more positive end of the spectrum, peonies, meaning a bashful happy life. Oh I'm rambling again." I turn shy, closing my mouth to keep the stream of words inside. Mr. Jackson thinks for a while, turning to me and opens his mouth. "I've enjoyed our little conversation today. I should probably go back inside and send off the boys. I'll see you later Y/N." I gather my things and stand to my feet. "I enjoyed talking with you as well Mr. Jackson. Have a good day." I grab the basket and head to the staff area to collect my purse and such. Someone had left an empty coke bottle. I wash it out and place a few blooms in the bottle. Pink camellias, red and white chrysanthemums, and salvias bloom at me. I push myself to the main house and into the kitchen. Mr. Jackson is nowhere to be seen, so I place the bottle on the counter, leaving before I can be caught.

Michael and I spend lots of time together after that. I'd work while he sat beside me, asking about flora or just talking about whatever was on his heart. I continued to leave him little bundles of flowers after trimmings, but never used flowers I had given the meanings for. I slowly but surely started falling for my handsome employer, and it scared me.

I came to work the next week, ready to manicure the flowerbed in front of the train station. Clearing out the dead things and keeping everything in top shape, I watch as the train pulls up, Mr. Jackson disembarking from the locomotive. He smiles when he sees me and almost runs towards me. I can't help but smile at his child like behavior. "Y/N! I wanted to say thank you for the bouquet. I like the coke bottle vase. I was also wondering if you'd make a couple bouquets for me." I nod. "Of course Mr. Jack- I mean Michael. Would you like me to put them together now or at a later time?" He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and shrugs. "Either is fine. If helping can make it go faster, I don't mind getting my hands dirty." I try to deny his help, promising that I'll work fast and be inside to help him soon. I notice the dark hat, long sleeves and pants. This man was going to burn alive out here.

After not being given much of a choice, I have Michael clear out the bottom of the beds, tossing away dead leaves and flowers while I come behind and prune where it is needed. We finish surprisingly quickly, the pair of us working in tandem. After the work is done, he leads me to the main house, large and lavish. He wastes no time in pulling me to a table where he has a notebook filled with writing. "I need two bouquets. One is for my mother, the other is for a woman I'm wanting to impress. You may know her. Her name is Lisa Marie Presley." I feel my heart stop in my chest. The once soft edges of my heart filled with love for Michael turned bruised, brown like a gardenia. How fitting. I swallow and move. "Well, let's get started on your mother. What is her favorite flower and color?"

I finished Ms. Jackson's flower arrangement fairly quickly. It took a little longer to wrap my head around making Ms. Presley's. It was with a heavy heart that I presented the second one to Michael to have delivered to the woman he had his sights on. It went on like that for months, he'd call me in for guidance on an arrangement, I'd do it, and I would go home a little sadder, a little more defeated. I loved doing my job, I loved working with the flowers and in the gardens, and I especially loved spending time with Michael. But everything must come to an end. I had been told that Lisa would be moving in, and I decided to be moving out. One last time, I made a flower arrangement for Michael. It was heartbreakingly beautiful. It contained Aloe, meaning grief but also affection, butterfly weed, asking him to let me go, red carnations, pink carnations, meaning I will never forget him, yellow chrysanthemums, for my slighted love, purple roses, and a single gardenia. I wrote a small note on the card that I was to leave with the large bundle of plants.

"Michael,

I will never forget our conversations. Sadly, it is time that I move on. I hope that I've taught you well enough in the language of flowers that you can understand the message I am leaving you. It was an honor working with you. I wish you nothing but the best and most happiness the world can offer you.

Y/N"

Hi this sucks. I hope my next one can be better. See you guys next time!

You are here to change the world, 

Lindsey