Smile (a Michael Jackson Fanfiction)

(11)

It's been a week since the whole incident at the bar, and Michael and I have been hanging out and just getting to know each other. He decided to stay a few more days in New York and we are going to leave soon... I guess.

Obviously there is some sort of romantic interest, but we haven't really acted on our attraction to each other yet. That has to end soon though, I'm getting really impatient. I'm literally so horny all the time. 

"Em?" Michael asks as he plays with my curls. I walk my fingers up his chest and wrap my leg around his body under the sheets.

"Hmm," I hum, basking in my happiness. 

"We should get out of this hotel room," he smiles as I look up at him. 

"Why?" I ask, furrowing my brows. 

"Well, we haven't left the room in a couple of days," he smirks, putting his hands behind his head.

"So?" I giggle, holding him tighter. 

"Maybe we could go shopping?" he suggests, ignoring my question.

"What would we go shopping for, Michael? Do you need something?" I ask, as Michael wraps his arms around me. 

"No... I was thinking we could go shopping for you," he says, pulling me onto his lap.

"I don't need anything," I smile as he places his hands on my hips.

"Maybe you want to go get a dress?" he pushes, running his hands over my curves. 

"What for?" I ask knowingly.

"I made reservations at my favourite restaurant in New York for tonight, if you want to go," he says as I place my hands on his chest, "I know we didn't get to go out for dinner when I last asked you, so I was thinking we could go out tonight."

"Sure, that sounds great," I smile, pecking his lips as I swing my leg off of him and get ready to go out.

*

Michael and I walk into the dimly lit restaurant hand in hand. I look around in awe as a waiter walks up to us. 

"Mr.Jackson, how are you?" the waiter smiles, grabbing us two menus. 

"I'm just fine, Francis, how are you?" they converse like old friends. 

"Great, thank you. Right this way." he smiles, leading us to our table by the windows that are tinted from the outside, but we can see right through them. 

"Can I get you anything to drink?" he asks, placing the menus in front of us. 

"A bottle of champagne, please." Michael requests, lowering his eyes as he looks at me. He nods, walking away from us as I look to Michael, blushing under his stare. 

"Thank you for everything Michael," I sigh, placing my hand over his on the white tablecloth. 

"Don't thank me. I'm happy to do it," he smiles, "I had a really good time with you today. That's more than I could ask from anyone. If anything I should be thanking you." he says gratefully.

"Michael, you blew so much money today, how can you be that happy." I smile widely, shaking my head. 

"Money doesn't mean much to me. I have so much of it that I don't know what to do with it except for things that I desire, and I desire you." he says as humbly as a rich person could. 

"Michael," my cheeks redden, "Stop it." I say, covering my face with my hands. 

"Why?" he asks, as I uncover my face, "You make me the happiest I've been in a long time. You make me feel the way that I feel on stage. At home," he says softly, folding his hands, "I never feel comfortable anywhere but on stage since that's the only place I know. You make me feel like myself, Emma." he says seriously. 

"You make me feel the same way," I sigh, starting to get nervous about revealing too much, "I've never felt comfortable in my own skin or anywhere in my life. I've never really felt like this since I last saw my best friend Catherine." I sigh shakily, as my heart saddens at the thought of her. 

"Who's Catherine?" he asks as his brows furrow. I look away from him, trying to keep myself together as memories of her flood my mind. 

"Catherine was my best friend," I sigh shakily, looking down at my hands, "We were best friends since I was in kindergarten, and we were like soul mates. I've never thought romance had to be involved in soul mates, so I thought Catherine was mine." I explain, as Michael's eyes stay fixed on my saddened face, "Catherine was driving down to New York from Canada, since that's where her and I used to live. She was coming to visit me when she got in a massive car accident," I swallow harshly as Michael's lips part. 

"Emma," he sighs.

"She died that night in the hospital. They pulled her out of the wreck and took her to the hospital and did everything to try and get her to make it, but she couldn't." I quiver as tears start to run down my face as Michael holds my hand. 

"Oh Emma, I'm so sorry," he says, kissing my hand.

"I got a call later that night while I was waiting for her to come to my apartment. It was from her husband, Zac. We were also great friends. They were high school sweethearts," I smile in memory, as I wipe my tears with the back of my hand, "When he called to tell me, I didn't believe him. He was crying and everything, but I thought he had it wrong, even though he was with her in the hospital when she died." I sigh, wiping my eyes, "I hadn't seen her in two years, Michael." I cry, finally looking him in the eye to see that he was crying as well, "I left her in Canada to come here and restart my life. It was the dumbest thing I ever did. I didn't want to leave her, but I thought I had to, to become happier." I sob as Michael hands me a tissue. 

"I'm so sorry," Michael says softly as he wipes his own face. I smile wanly, shaking my head.

"I wish I had gotten a chance to say goodbye to her. I miss her so much," I cry, "She would've liked you Michael." I smile, trying to lighten the situation as he smiles as well, choking out a laugh. 

"I'm sure I would've liked her as well." he smiles wanly as I stand from the table. 

"Excuse me," I sigh, leaving Michael at the table to gather myself in the ladies restroom and remember Catherine in silence.