Reverie - Michael Jackson Imagines

Spark ?

You were still practically a child when your dream came true and it was a culture shock adjusting to the world of fashion and fame. Now in your late 20s, your popularity was at an all-time high. You were regarded by many as one of the most beautiful faces of the decade.

Your attention suddenly shifts to the chatter following behind you, the cameras flashing at a speed that didn't seem mechanically possible.

"Michael! Michael, we love you!"

You glance in the direction of all the commotion and almost feel frozen at the sight of the gorgeous man striding down the red carpet. His tall, lean frame is perfectly accentuated by the black suit, adorned with his signature shiny buckles and paired with a red shirt. He bashfully smiles at the camera, flashing a smile that could rival the sun. You notice his doe brown eyes meeting your gaze and you feel a blush keep across your cheeks.

You almost feel disappointed once he looks away.

"It's Michael Jackson," you whisper to Prince.

"I know and you're staring," your friend smirks. "Let's get to our seats before you catch flies,"

You steal another glance at Michael before being whisked away by your date.

You were completely mesmerized by Michael Jackson. You'd found yourself completely distracted during the ceremony, replaying the brief encounter in mind. It was a superficial attraction but when your eyes had met across the room you'd felt a spark.

Clearly, you weren't the only one that was taken with Michael. He was a crowd favorite, the talent of the 80s, and had managed to rack up four awards- setting a record for the night.

You felt genuinely happy for him and listened intently as he graciously accepted each award. He was soft-spoken, eloquent, and humble.

You knew you had to get to know more about him.

***

"Oh, pardon me,"

You smiled apologetically as you bumped into Ralph Tresvant, maneuvering your way through the crowd of stars. The after-party swiftly followed the awards and was in full swing.

It felt impossible to even stand in the room without bumping into one person or another and you could hardly hear yourself think over the thumping music. Prince had abandoned you for one of his musician companions and you didn't do very well in large crowds. The only place that wasn't overpopulated was the bar.

You let out a sigh of relief as you plant yourself on the barstool and flash a smile at the bartender.

"An apple cider, please," you announce, slowly peeling off your evening gloves.

"I'll have a small glass of wine. Red please,"

The familiar soft voice sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach and you swivel your stool to face Michael who flashes his perfect set of teeth. He was even more breathtaking up close, the single curl falling against his forehead brought attention to his intoxicating brown eyes.

"Hello," you speak softly.

He giggles, planting himself on a stool next to you.

"Hi,"

The bartender places your glasses in front of you and you stare at the bubbles fizzing at the surface for a moment until he speaks.

"I'm Michael,"

You grin.

"I know. Y/N. Congrats on the awards,"

He reaches for his glass.