Michael Jackson Imagines

Sick

You didn't knew why you woke up in the middle of the night, but you did.
It was completely dark and you couldn't even see your hand infront of your face.
You tapped on the bedsheets next to you, expecting that you would feel someone there.
But it was empty.
"Michael?", you whispered into the darkness.
No one answered.
'Where is he?', you thought and stood up.
You turned the lights on and closed your eyes for a moment because of this bright shining.
Then you went out of the room.
'Maybe he is in the studio.', you thought because it happened sometimes that he woke up around midnight and he had a new idea for a song.
And even if you told him, it would be better for him to write it down and then go back to bed instead of working in the studio for the rest of the night, you could imagine that he did exactly this.
When you walked past the kitchen you suddenly heared some noise.
It sounded like whimpering.
"Michael?", you asked again.
Another quiet whimper came from the kitchen.
"Michael, what are you-"
You stopped in the middle of your sentence when you saw him.
He was sitting next to the opened candy closet on the ground looking like he felt really not good, holding his stomach.
Chocolate was all around his mouth and his chin and at least twenty now empty candy packagings were laying on the ground.
After you had recovered from the first shock, you began laughing uncontrollably.
And his whining comment: "Not funny..." only made you laugh harder.
When a few minutes had passed by, you began to calm down a little.
"So, Michael", you said still giggling, "What is your explanation for this?"
He shrugged his shoulders and just whispered: "Help me."
You got on your knees infront of him, looking straight into his eyes and stated: "No explanation, no help."
He sighed and looked down.
"I... I was so h-hungry...", he then mumbled embarrased.
"But you could have eaten something else."
"Noo. I wanted chocolate.", he cried and looked at you with an apologizing look.
You chuckled and then you grabbed all the packagings and threw them into the trashcan.
"Y/N, please help meee.", Michael said once again while you were doing this.
You giggled. "Can't you clean your face by yourself?"
"No, I mean yes.", he answered, "But I feel so sick!"
You began to laugh more again. "That's no wonder. You ate all the chocolate we had."
"Please stop laughing, Y/N. I really cannot stand up.", he whined.
"Ok, ok, you chocolate killer."
Then you helped him to get up.
"Y/N?", he then asked shyly.
You turned around to face him. "Yea?"
"Can I have a kiss?"
"Eww, no!", you shouted and Michael looked at you with a very hurted expression.
"At least not with all this chocolate on your lips.", you explained your reaction.
"Of course", he said relieved and walked to the sink holding his stomach still whimpering while you were holding his arm for his support...