Forever and a Half || Michael Jackson

Chapter Fifty-four - Happy Holidays

Chapter fifty-four — Happy Holidays

~~

-December 25, 1987-

"Good morning, Michael. It's Christmas Day today."

My brows furrow in admiration as I watch him gently fall out of his slumber in front of me. He really is the most adorable human being to exist. I want today to be a nice day for us, even though the circumstances are no good at all. It's both of our first Christmases without family, but Clover will be joining us for the day.

He turns over a little, so that I can just about see his face underneath the masses of black curls which have clung to the corners of his mouth, and draped themselves over his eyes and nose.

"Michael," I repeat softly, noticing he's got his eyes open now. "Hey, merry Christmas Michael."

"There's not much merry about everyone being gone now," he murmurs due to tiredness. "But yeah. The same to you." He breathes a quiet sigh, flicking the hair from his face as he sits himself up on the bed. He looks hurt, but he gives the faintest smile he can just to show me he isn't upset with me, and that he wants to make a bit of an effort with the occasion.

"Should we go downstairs and wait for Clover?" I ask. "She's due over here in about twenty minutes."

"Yeah, sure." He, although visibly forcing himself to do so, rotates his body so that his legs hang over the edge of the bed. For a few moments, he halts himself, to try to slowly coax himself out of the sleepy state he's currently in. In this time, he rubs his eyes, lets out a loud breath through his mouth, and proceeds to push his body up off the bed with his hands. Now a little more awake, he quickly changes into more presentable clothing before coming down the stairs with me.

"Do you want anything to eat, or should we wait for Clover?" I question to him, as we arrive in the living room.

"I'll wait," he answers, sitting on the sofa. After a few seconds, he seems to feel a chill, as he shivers and draws his legs up to the rest of his body and embraces them to conserve heat.

"Blanket behind you," I point out, using my index finger to gesture to the back of the sofa. He catches a glimpse behind him and finds it, grabbing it and covering himself with it.

"Thanks," he says. He then seems to force himself to swallow, the reason unknown. "Come sit with me."

Following his request, I sit by his side, and he places the blanket over me, too. He then wraps an arm around me, which naturally allows my head to lean against the space between his chest and his shoulder. "I love you, Michael."

He remains silent for a few moments, but then I feel him move his head, and a careful kiss is aimed at my forehead. "I love you too." His tone isn't as warm as it used to be, but in comparison to the last couple weeks, it's a lot less cold and harsh. I'll take any signs of affection I can get based on how he is right now.

"I hope you'll like the present I got for you," I state, trying to evoke more conversation out of him. "It's not the best, but I guess you could say I put a lot of thought into it."

"I'm sure I'll love it," he responds. "Whether you put a lot of thought into it or not."

"And I don't expect you to have gotten me anything you know," I add, my hand reaching to his so our fingers can interlock. "That's not the reason I'm with you, and you should know that."

"I know, but I still got you something." Although I can't see his face, I can feel him nodding his head. "It could be the last thing you ever receive from me."