Michael Jackson Imagines

Snow Angels

Dedicated to @Sarey33.  I hope this makes you smile.

You opened your eyes.

Frost covered your bedroom window like intricate silver lace, and the golden light of morning made it sparkle and glow. You sat up on your elbows and gazed out at the street. More than a foot of snow had fallen, blanketing the earth in unblemished white, and it was still falling, drifting, floating. The bare trees drooped under the weight of the flakes resting on their branches. The neighborhood Christmas lights shone brilliantly in the gray light of morning, sending tidings of warmth and happiness to the families huddled in their homes as they waited for the storm to pass.

A pulse of joy coursed through you. Michael would be so excited.

You looked at the curly-headed bundle lying beside you. He didn't stir. You were relieved. You would have hated to wake him up early on a day when he could sleep in. You checked your phone. Are you kidding me? You screamed in your head. They haven't canceled classes yet?!

You were disappointed, but not surprised. Your university had a reputation for staying open, even in the craziest weather. Apparently, those in charge of the school believed their students could handle anything. Unfortunately, they never considered the troubles of commuters like you, poor students forced to drive to school through hell or high water.

Or a blizzard.

You rolled out of bed, careful not to move the mattress too much. You tip-toed to Michael's side. He looked perfectly peaceful, nestled under the soft covers. His hair fell in curls over his face.

You wished you didn't have to leave him, but if you lingered, you would be late. You kissed his head, put on your slippers, and glanced at him one last time before heading downstairs.

Your Christmas tree glowed spectacularly in the living room, brightening the shadowy house. It lifted your spirits, if only for a moment before you carried out the rest of your morning routine on autopilot.

Soon it was time for your least favorite part of winter weekday mornings: bundling up. You shoved your feet into your snow boots, put on a sweater, then your puffy coat – the one that made you look and feel like a marshmallow. You pulled on wool mittens and a hat and wrapped your scarf around your neck what felt like ten times. When you finished, only your eyes were left exposed. You breathed an annoyed sigh into your scarf, opened the door, and stepped out into 20 degrees Fahrenheit (-6.7°C).

A thick layer of ice covered your car, windshield, windows, everything. Your arms ached as you worked to scrape it off. Your hands were numb in minutes. "Damn," you sighed, and tried to rub your fingers back to life. "There's no way I'm making it to class on time." You still had to shovel your driveway to free your car, and already you wanted to give up.

Thwack!

Something compact and ice-cold hit the back of your head. You gasped as snow slipped into your jacket and down your neck. "Cold, cold, cold!" you cried. You shook your head and then your whole body and jumped all around, but it only made the problem worse. There was nothing you could do but wait for the frozen crystals to melt against your back. In the meantime, you investigated. Where the hell did that come from? Maybe the snow fell from a tree branch and hit you. You looked up, but there was only sky above you. What the...?

Wild laughter filled the air. You whipped around.

Michael stood on the front lawn, knee deep in snow and bundled up in his winter gear. He picked up more snow and packed it into a ball.

"Don't you dare!" you said.

Michael hurled the snowball at you. You dodged it like a ninja, and it smacked against your car window, exploding into frosty, fluffy pieces.