Smile (a Michael Jackson Fanfiction)

(72)

Michael's POV

I'm still upset about the whole Grammy's debacle. Emma knows it's bothering me too, so I'm mainly trying to put it aside for her.

Q keeps calling, asking if I'm okay and then telling me it's going to be okay. I disagree, and it's almost fate that I actually called the album Bad.

To make matters worse, we're going back on tour today. Not exactly on tour, since we pick up rehearsals again for the next couple of days, but as far as I'm concerned, it's still touring. Then again, as soon as we start, the sooner it's over.

I hop down the stairs and my eyes are immediately drawn to Emma who is standing at the island, drinking a glass of foggy, green liquid that makes me furrow my brows.

"Hey," I say slowly, trying to figure out what's in the glass, "What's that?"

"It's just green juice that is supposed to help with headaches," she sighs heavily as I walk up to her, wrapping my arms around her waist from behind before kissing her shoulder.

"You have a headache?" I ask softly, planting a kiss on the side of her neck.

"Yes, I do," she murmurs, leaning into me.

"Is there anything I can do?" my words muffle against her skin.

"No," she mumbles, scrunching her face in pain. I scoop her up in my arms and carry her over to the couch to lie her down in the living room. She smiles weakly at the gesture, keeping her eyes closed as I walk over to the curtains and close them so that the daylight doesn't worsen her headache.

"Thank you," she sighs, adjusting herself on her side, with her eyes still closed. I walk over to the couch, kneeling down at her side and run my hand over her soft curls.

"Don't you have to get ready for the tour?" she rasps.

"You always come first."

"No, no," she shakes her head slightly, disagreeing, "Go get ready. You don't have to stay with me."

"You're more important," I state softly and she scrunches her face again, and I can tell the pain is getting worse, "Em, are you okay?"

"Michael," she groans, squeezing her eyes tightly, "Come lie with me. Your touch..." she breathes, "Helps to take the pain away." she says, in pain and I immediately rest my body alongside hers, wrapping my arms around her and she buries her face in my chest.

"It's okay," I whisper, rubbing her back and I feel her wet tears start to seep through my button down.

"Michael, it hurts so bad," she softly cries into my chest, her voice ridden with pain.

"Should I take you to the hospital?" I ask, hugging her close to me.

"I just want the pain to go away."

"Do you want me to call a doctor to come here?" I ask as she sobs even harder into my chest, groaning in pain, "I'll be right back." I whisper, kissing the top of her head, before standing from the couch as she continues to groan in pain.

"Hello?" a formal voice answers the number I've dialled.

"Emma's in pain," I say quickly, keeping my voice low, "She has a really bad headache. It seems to be excruciating."

"I'll be right down, Mr. Jackson." my personal doctor says, and I hang up the phone to go back to Emma who is now covering her head with a pillow.

"The doctor will be here soon," I say, rubbing her back in circles as I squat down beside her.

About fifteen minutes later I'm letting the doctor in the house, and she quickly makes her way over to Emma and kneels beside her as I watch them intently.