only then, can we receive
Jaafar Jackson as Michael Jackson x OC character
note: i wrote this with an oc character, but always feel free to imagine yourself, if you wish. thanks for taking the time to read. hope you enjoy <3
"Whenever you call me, I'll be there
Whenever you want me, I'll be there
Whenever you need me, I'll be there
I'll be around."
I swayed softly, humming along to the tune. It was a favorite of mine, by The Spinners. Shifting my weight to one hip, I squinted slightly as I adjusted my stroke, brushing downwards in small, repetitive motions. The yellow paint spread across the canvas, adding some texture to the petal I was focused on.
Behind the canvas, the day's fading light gleamed in, lighting half of my face with a golden hue. It had been a clear, sunny day—as many were in Southern California—and the lack of clouds allowed for a particularly stunning sunset.
I spared a glance away from my canvas, looking at the silhouettes of the utility poles, before shifting my gaze upwards to the cotton candy skies above us.
I shook my head, a smile tugging at my lips, "No artist will ever come close to you."
I never paid mind to who I might be speaking to. God. The Universe. I hadn't grown up religious, but, in my mind, sunsets were the ultimate proof of some grand artist's design.
Growing tired of the slower tunes, I placed my paintbrush down and stepped away from my work. I walked across the concrete floor, stepping around the pieces that were laying out to dry. Some were simply paintings, others were flowers pressed to paper.
Once I reached the wooden table, where my father's old turntable was still lighting up the room with Bobby Smith's vocals, I carefully lifted the needle and placed it aside.
"Thank you, Bobby," I murmured, picking up the record, "I think I've had my fill."
I swapped it out with a dance record. When I placed the needle back on, a grin spread across my face as A Taste of Honey's "Boogie Oogie Oogie" began to play—the opening guitar notes echoing around the hollow space of the room.
After skipping back to my painting, I picked up my brush and resumed my motions, swaying a little more this time—as the infectious beat was already lifting my spirits further.
I'd been so consumed in painting and humming that I nearly shrieked when a pair of large hands grabbed my waist, as a soft voice joined in with the song's melody
"Now get on up on the floor 'cause we're gonna boogie-oogie-oogie
'til you just can't boogie no more!"
I dropped my paintbrush, snapping around and coming face-to-face with Michael's big, brown eyes. He giggled openly as my short-lived fear turned into feigned annoyance.
"You goof! You could've made me mess up!"
He shook his head, pulling me close and pressing our foreheads together, "You wouldn't have. It would've still been just as beautiful as everything else you paint."
I raised an eyebrow at him. "Right. So I'll just bust in on you and scare you next time you're recording then."
He smirked, raising an eyebrow back at me. "Oh? And how are you planning to manage that?"
He was alluding to my constant failed attempts at scaring him. No matter how quiet I thought I was, every moment leading up to my scare attempts always ended in him turning around at the last second and holding his hands out, exclaiming and frightening me instead.
I pouted, irritated as I felt my cheeks begin to heat up. "I'll get you back one of these days."
Raising both eyebrows, he nodded with an unconvinced twinkle in his eyes. "Mhm."
Before I could sass him back, he pulled me close and locked his lips with mine. I was raised to my tiptoes as I wrapped my arms around his neck. His hands trailed down my sides and over my back. Just as they began to wander to my backside, I grabbed his arms and pulled his hands off.
"Behave. I won't let you distract me right now."
He tilted his head, mischief dancing in his eyes as he gazed down at me. "No?"
I began to turn away from him. "I'm almost done with this piece, so if you just let me—"
A shriek escaped me as Michael lifted me off of my feet, bringing me to the center of the room. Once he placed me down, he grabbed my hands and began forcing me to dance with him. I couldn't help losing myself to laughter as he moved shoulders, never taking his eyes off of me, before raising my arm and spinning me.
He quipped, never halting his movements, "You shouldn't be paintin' in that sweater anyway. That's one of your good ones."
I answered, raising my voice to be heard over the music, "Well, I had only planned on dabbling today, but it turned into—what do you mean 'one of' my good ones? All of my sweaters are glorious!"
"Mm, a few of the patterned ones are a little . . ."
I gasped, but before I could chide him, his eyes lit up as he joined in with the song.
"Get down, boogie-oogie-oogie! Get down, boogie-oogie-oogie! Get down, boogie-oogie-oogie!"
He moved his feet before lifting my arm, guiding me into another spin. However, this time he ended it with pulling my back to his front. Helpless to the butterflies within me, I squeezed my eyes shut as he wrapped his arms around my waist, kissing my ear and continuing to sway us.
"C'mon, girl! Sing with me!"
I shook my head. "Mm, mm. You know I'll dance with you—much to my embarrassment—but singing is where I draw the line."
He shook his head, rolling his eyes, though a smile remained on his lips. "Always gotta be shy."
I scoffed a laugh. "You can't talk."
He smirked, turning me around to face him once again. "Don't you know I'm asking because I love you and I wanna hear you? I'm not asking to judge you."
My heart swelled at his words. 'Because I love you.' I had yet to get used to hearing that four-lettered word from him.
I leaned closer. "Think about it from my perspective. Which of us has been singing for two decades?"
He leaned forward, matching my movements. "And which of us is thinking about herself too much?"
I rolled my eyes, stepping back with a bashful smile. "Whatever. Still no."
He unwrapped his arms from me, chuckling as he watched me walk across the room to the turntable, once again. I lifted the needle to stop the record.
My stomach flipped at his words. However, I kept a nonchalant front.
"Sure," I answered, before shifting the conversation, "Anything in particular you'd like to hear?"
He began making his way over. "You got anything newer?"
"You've been playin' oldies."
"Why are you acting like the '70s weren't just last decade? And they're great songs."
"They are," he agreed, walking over to stand beside me, flipping through my record collection, "but still. A lot of great stuff has been released these past couple of years."
I giggled, looking up at him as he, as expected, blushed, avoiding my eyes. "I'm not talkin' about me."
I shrugged, "Perhaps not, but it's something great that's been released in the past couple of years. Just like you said."
He shook his head, still looking down in embarrassment. I reached up and nudged his chin.
I chirped, "We can always listen to 1999."
Michael froze, before shifting his gaze sideways.
I cackled at his side eye. "What?" I asked, feigning innocence, "That, too, is a great record released within the past couple of—"
He lunged at me, making me shriek and dodge his hands. I scampered a distance from him before he caught me easily, his long legs giving him an unfair advantage.
He spoke into my ear, making me laugh and shrug my shoulder. "You're a little minx, you know that?"
I shook my head, laughing as I failed to get out of his grip. "I love how that is what sets you off. For Pete's sake, Mike, you and him are like two rivaling schoolboys. Ego versus ego."
"We're not rivaling," he replied, pulling me closer as I rolled my eyes, "I respect his work. He's good. Real good. I just gotta . . . make sure I receive my ideas first. Otherwise, God may give them to him."
I turned around, staring up at him, before bursting into laughter once again. "That's a crazy thing to say."
"It's true!" he continued, "You know I don't create my work. It's created in space. By God. It's His work, not mine. I just receive it."
I smiled, my heart fluttering at the passion in his voice. His humility never failed to floor me. As talented as he was. The countless accomplishments with his gifts—and yet he still refused to take any credit.
He nodded towards my painting. "Like you receive your ideas for your art."
I turned to look at my painting. "Yeah."
"Tell me about it. What is it this time?"
We both stared at my canvas. I tilted my head, tightening his arms around my waist as he placed his head on my shoulder.
"I don't know yet. I haven't received it in full. I'm receiving it bit by bit as I go."
He smiled. "Well, keep your heart open as you do. Only then can we receive."
As he held me, I let his words sink into my soul.
Keep my heart open. Only then could I receive.
After a moment, I tapped his hand. "Come on. Let's head back to the house. I hate leaving Bill lonely when we disappear for ages."
"Bill isn't here," Michael said, turning me around and draping his arm around my shoulders.
I frowned. "He's not? Then, how did you get here?"
We walked towards the door. My art studio was a little concrete greenhouse that had come with the house I lived in. Michael held open the door, allowing me to exit first, before closing the door and following behind me. Above us, the moon and stars illuminated the grass, guiding our pathway back to the main house.
He chuckled, frowning as if I'd said something strange. "I drove, baby."
His face fell. "Very funny."
"No, I'm just curious," I continued, an impish smile tugging at my lips, "How many backstreets were you forced to take because you avoided every freeway possible to get to my house?"
He rolled his eyes and turned me forward, walking us towards the house. "C'mon, girl. It's cold out."
"No wonder you got here so late. It must've taken you two hours to get here."
"I need a mute button for you."
I laughed loudly, which caused him to laugh.
Our voices echoed in the empty yard as we continued on our way. There was a chill out, and we could see our breath, but we kept our slow pace. We were in no hurry to move on.
i'm new to mj tumblr, so i'm just checking it out. since seeing the film, michael hasn't left my mind. thus, my outlet is here.
i hope you enjoyed! i'll see how people (if anyone sees this) feel about this and decide if i want to write more on here. i'd love to hear all your thoughts below <3
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