somewhere in encino III ᯽ Ý Ë
đŁ˛â summary : you find out michaelâs never celebrated christmas before and you take it upon yourself to make sure his first is the best.
⚠࣪ Ë jackson five era // pre-off the wall michael jackson x reader
a/n : my phone crashed three times trying to upload this so if thereâs error bare with pls pls
đ§đ¨đŻđđŚđđđŤ, đđđđ
you and michael were both sat in his bedroom at hayvenhurst. now that your friendship has blossomed fully, youâve found yourself making more frequent visits to his home, being introduced to his siblings and his parents and even forming a slight relationship with them.
the late autumn air pressed softly against the bedroom window, the glass slightly fogged from the contrasting warmth inside. you sat cross-legged on the carpet, your back resting against the side of michaelâs bed while he lounged nearby with a notebook balanced on his knee.
the room smelled faintly of clean laundry and whatever cologne heâd been obsessed with lately. everything about hayvenhurst felt lived in, full of noise even when it was âquietââfootsteps down the hallway, a distant laugh, the muffled sound of someone calling for someone else, and for some reason, being there always made you feel comoforted.
you stared at the posters on his wall for a second, letting out a breath you didnât even realise youâd been holding.
âoh my god,â you blurted suddenly, turning your head toward him with wide eyes. âmichael⌠christmas is soon.â
the words came out in a rush, the excitement bubbling out of you before you could even pretend to be calm about it.
âi swear, i can already feel it,â you continued, sitting up straighter. âlike, it feels like the festivities are already starting. the cold air and the early nights, everyone rushing around, the little lights in shop windows, like have you seen the decorations downtown? itâs actually insane. and the tinsel everywhere. like, everywhere. itâs so tacky but also so perfect. it just never lets you forget itâs christmas time,â you rant, pure excitement coursing through you.
michaelâs gaze flickered up from his notebook. he watched you with that familiar, gentle attention, the corners of his mouth tugging upward as if your excitement was contagious.
you leaned forward slightly, completely unable to stop yourself. âand my mumâs already started talking about what weâre doing this year,â you went on, your voice animated.
âsheâs been making lists and everything. sheâs one of those people who treats christmas dinner like sheâs hosting the queen. iâm not even kidding, sheâll be standing in the kitchen in an apron acting all stressed, and then sheâll start bossing everyone around.â
you made a dramatic face, putting on a mocking cranky voice as you try set the scene, âsheâll be about the place yelling âdonât touch the mince pies, theyâre for later!â
your own laughter slipped out, warm and breathy. âand i know my dadâs going to fall asleep on the sofa again,â you added. âevery single year. he always claims heâs just âresting his eyesâ and then next thing you know heâs snoring and the tellyâs blaring some old christmas film that can be heard around the whole house.â
you rambled on, your hands moving as you spoke, the words tumbling out faster the more you thought about it.
âand the presents. oh my god, the presents. i love wrapping them even though iâm god awful at it. i always end up using too much tape and it looks like the gift has been trapped in plastic or something. but itâs fine because itâs the thought that counts, right?â
michael nodded along quietly, listening in that way he always did, like every detail mattered. his expression stayed soft, but there was something else underneath it, something faint that didnât belong with your excitement.
you didnât notice it at first. you kept going.
âand christmas music! everyone complains about it but I love it. i love the stupid jingling bells and the choirs and the cheesy lyrics. iâll be humming it all day, and it drives my dad crazy. last year he threatened to throw the radio out the window.â
you giggled at the memory, then paused, finally taking in michael properly. he was still nodding, still smiling a little, but his eyes had drifted down, unfocusedâthe smile didnât reach them. his shoulders seemed more tense than they had been a moment ago, and his fingers tapped lightly against the edge of his notebook, almost distracted. the excitement in your chest slowed, fading into confusion.
ââŚhey,â you murmured, tilting your head. âyou okay?â
michael blinked, snapping out of it, his smile tried to come back stronger, like he could force it into place.
âyeah,â he replied softly, though his voice lacked its usual brightness.
you didnât buy it for a second, shifting closer, your tone gentler now. âmichael⌠whatâs wrong?â
he hesitated. for a few seconds, the only sound was the distant creak of the house settling and a muffled voice somewhere down the hallway. his eyes stayed on his hands, thumbs rubbing together slowly.
he let out a quiet breath. âitâs not⌠itâs not anything bad,â he began, carefully choosing his words. âitâs justâŚâ
he paused again, jaw tightening slightly.
âwe donât⌠celebrate christmas.â
your eyebrows lifted. âyou donât?â
michael shook his head, gaze still lowered, âmy family, weâre jehovahâs witnesses,â he explained.
the words sounded almost heavy coming out of him, like heâd said them a hundred times to people who didnât understand. âwe donât do holidays. not christmas, not birthdays⌠none of that.â
your mouth parted, the realisation settling over you slowly.
you didnât mean for it to sound so small but you were disappointed on his behalf.
michael glanced up at you then, his expression was unreadableâsoft, but edged with something quieter, one you couldnât fix with a joke like usually.
âitâs just how it is,â he continued, voice calm but distant. âiâm used to it.â
however, the way he said it didnât sound like he was used to it at all. you stared at him for a moment, your heart twisting in your chest. suddenly all your tangents about decorations and presents felt unfair, as though youâd been waving something shiny in front of him without realising he wasnât allowed to touch it.
you swallowed before speaking, ââŚdo you want to celebrate it?â you asked carefully, not sure if itâs âoffensiveâ.
michael didnât answer straight away. his gaze drifted to the window where the sky was fading into a pale grey-blue, the kind of evening that promised the upcoming winter.
âi-⌠i donât know,â he admitted quietly. âsometimes i wonder what itâs like. i hear people talk about it all the time. the trees, the food, the musicâŚâ he trailed off, then shrugged slightly, forcing a small laugh that didnât quite land. âit sounds⌠nice.â
your face lit up again, but this time it wasnât just excitementâit was determination.
âwell then,â you declared, sitting up straighter, as if youâd just made the most obvious decision in the world. âyouâre coming to my house.â
michael blinked, caught off guard. âwhat?â
you pointed at him like you were accusing him of something. âyou heard me. youâre literally coming to my house for christmas. no arguments.â
his eyes widened, and a nervous smile flickered across his face. âi donât think Iâm supposed to-â
âoh, please,â you interrupted, waving your hand dramatically. âiâm not asking your whole family to start singing carols and dancing around a tree. iâm just saying you should come over. just for the day. you can eat with us. you can open a present. you can watch my dad fall asleep mid-film. itâs basically a cultural experience.â
michael let out a quiet laughâthe first real one since the conversation shifted.
you leaned closer, voice dropping into something softer, more sincere. âseriously, michael,â you added. âyou shouldnât have to sit here and pretend you donât care. christmas is⌠warm. it can be annoying and loud and chaotic, but itâs warm. and you deserve that too.â
michael stared at you, his smile fading into something gentler, something almost stunned. his eyes softened, and for a moment he didnât look like âmichael jacksonâ, the star everyoneâs obsessed with. he just looked like a boy your age, sitting on his bedroom floor, quietly absorbing the fact that someone wanted to share something special with him.
âyouâd really do that?â he asked, voice low.
you scoffed. âobviously. youâre my best friend. what, did you think i was gonna let you spend christmas day doing nothing?â
he glanced away again, but this time the sadness didnât sit as heavily on his face. instead, something else appearedâsomething fragile, almost hopeful.
âi⌠i donât know what to say,â he murmured.
michaelâs lips parted, hesitating for only a second before the smallest smile returned, more real than before.
ââŚokay,â he agreed quietly.
something in your chest warmed instantly, as if the christmas lights youâd been imagining all day had suddenly switched on inside you.
you came home that night telling your parents about michaelâs situation and your proposal to have him over from the day.
luckily, they were delighted to have him over as theyâd begun to grow fond of him once you both grew closer and his appearances at the house became more frequent.
it was now one week before christmas and you were in a crisis on what to get him. you knew his interests, hell, you knew as much about him as he knows himself. yet you continued to panic on what to buy, telling yourself âit has to be perfectâ since itâs his first christmas and you had to make a good first impression.
you scrounged the mall for what felt like hours, analysing every shop on every floor to see if anything caught your eye⌠and it wasnât much.
at the end of the day you settled on a gift basket containing all the things you knew he loved and what you think would be necessities for christmas ; fluffy socks, a new pair of red plaid pyjamas (which you found a matching pair of for yourself), his favourite assortment candy you always noticed him reach for when yous were out together, a new notebook along with a pen with âmichaelâ written on it in cursive gold letters, a framed photo of you and him that janet took of yous one time at their house, you both cuddled next to each other on the sofa as yous fell asleep in the middle of a movie marathon and she found it the cutest thing, and finally, a heart-felt, handwritten note you took the time to writeâlisting every single thing that came to your mind, pouring your heart into it.
you best believe you took ages to make sure it looked perfect for when you gave it to him as well, experimenting with putting the things in different places and adding a red bow on top once finally content.
it was perfect, and you couldnât wait to show him. you knew michael would love anything you got himâyou could get him a rock picked up off the floor and heâd be happy, just by knowing it was gifted by you.
the second michael stepped through the front door, he knew heâd made a mistake. it wasnât because he didnât want to be there, i mean god, he wanted to be there more than heâd admitted out loud, but because the feeling hit him all at once, too fast, too big.
warm air wrapped around him, carrying smells he couldnât place properly at first. something sweet tooâcinnamon, maybe pine? and underneath it all, the faintest trace of something smoky from the fireplace.
his fingers tightened around the strap of his overnight bag as his eyes flickered over everything. your hallway was wide but still cosy, the walls dressed with framed photographs and little decorations he didnât recognise but somehow understood anyway. a wreath hung on the door behind him, thick and green, with a ribbon tied neatly in the centre. there were also tiny lights strung along the bannister leading upstairs, glowing softly, making the whole house look like it was lit from the inside.
he stood there a moment too long, taking it all in. you shut the door behind him, grinning like youâd been waiting for this exact second all week.
âwell?â you asked, dropping your voice like it was a secret. âwatcha think?â
michael swallowed, his gaze still wandering, still absorbing. he didnât even realise he was smiling until his cheeks began to ache slightly.
âitâsâŚâ his voice came out quieter than he meant it to. âitâs really nice.â
your smile widened triumphantly. âi told you.â
he nodded and followed you, wherever you were going, his shoes softly tapping against the floor as you led him further into the house.
the christmas tree stood in the corner of the living room, taller than he expected, almost touching the ceiling. thick tinsel wrapped around the branches, ornaments hanging like jewels. red and gold, little glass baubles, tiny candy canes, ribbons, and lights blinking softly in warm colours. the whole thing glowed, throwing little reflections across the walls.
he stopped walking, his breath caught in his chest, sharp and strange, as though his body didnât know what to do with the sight.
heâd heard about christmas trees. heâd seen them in store windows and on television, always in the background of things he wasnât supposed to be a part of, but seeing one in real life, close enough to touch, inside a house where people were laughing, cooking and living felt unreal.
his eyes traced every detail, lingering on each ornament, each light. he felt stupid for staring, but he couldnât help it. it was like his brain had been waiting his whole life to see this and didnât know how to stop looking.
you noticed instantly, stepping beside him, folding your arms with a smug little tilt of your head.
âyou can stare,â you told him. âi give you permission.â
michael let out a soft laugh through his nose, though his voice didnât come.
âitâsâŚâ he tried again, but the word wouldnât form.
âprettyâ didnât feel like enough.
he slowly stepped closer, careful and cautious, as if the tree might disappear if he moved too fast. his fingers lifted, hovering over one of the ornamentsâa small glass star. it caught the light and shimmered, throwing tiny sparkles across his skin as he touched it gently. the ornament swayed a little, and he watched it like it was alive.
âitâs beautiful,â he finally murmured, barely audible.
something in your expression softened. âi know,â you replied quietly. âthatâs why i wanted you to come.â
michaelâs throat tightened. he turned his head away quickly, pretending to examine something else in the room, but the feeling stayed lodged in his chest like a stone. not heavy, exactly. just emotional.
he hadnât expected it to hit him like this. your house was warm in a way he wasnât used to. not just temperature-wise, warm in the way people moved around without rushing, the way the lights were soft, the way everything seemed to glow with comfort. there were voices in the kitchen, the clinking of dishes, the hum of festive music playing quietly from a radio.
it made him feel like he was stepping into someone elseâs world, one heâd never been invited into before.
before he could think too hard about it, your mum appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. she took one look at Michael and smiled so brightly it startled him.
âthere you are!â she exclaimed. âmichael, my love, come in, come in. you must be freezing.â
michael straightened immediately, polite instincts kicking in like they were automatic.
âyes maâam,â he answered, his voice respectful. âthank you for having me.â
âoh donât be so formal,â she waved him off, though her smile only grew. âyouâre staying the night. that makes you family for the evening.â
the words made something flicker in his chest.
he forced a smile, but it wobbled slightly at the edges.
you glanced at him as you noticed his nervous demeanour.
âsee?â you whispered, leaning toward him. âi told you she was gonna adopt you.â
michael let out a small laugh, then lowered his voice, almost shy. âshe really nice,â he admitted.
your mum ushered him toward the kitchen with an energy that made him feel like he didnât have a choice.
âsit down, sit down. iâve got cookies and hot chocolate. you both can have some.â
michael hesitated, eyes widening slightly, âoh-, i-â
âno âIâ,â your mum interrupted, pointing at him with playful authority. âyouâll have some. christmas eve rules.â
he blinked, caught off guard, and you burst out laughing causing him to glance at you, eyebrows raised as if to ask âis she serious?â
you only grinned harder. âsheâs serious,â you mouthed.
he sat himself down at your kitchen island while your mum moved around with practised ease, humming to herself. the kitchen smelled even stronger than the hallwayâsweet, rich and warm. something was baking, its chocolatey aroma flowing through the kitchen.
his stomach twisted slightly, not with hunger but with nervousness. he wasnât used to being treated like this. not without expectations, without cameras, not without someone wanting something. but here no one seemed to want anything from him except for him to eat.
your dad wandered in a few minutes later, rubbing his eyes like heâd just woken up from a nap even though it was barely evening. he looked at michael, then smiled like it was the most natural thing in the world.
âaâright, bud?â he greeted, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder as he walked by.
michael stood up quickly. âhello, sir,â he replied.
your dad waved a hand with a light chuckle. âsit down, sit down. youâre in the house now. no need to stand like youâre meeting the president.â
michael sat again, his cheeks warming in embarrassment.
you leaned closer, whispering, âyouâre so polite itâs embarrassing.â
michael shot you a look. âiâm not embarrassing,â he muttered.
âyou literally just stood up like he was gonna knight you,â you teased.
michaelâs lips twitched. ââŚmaybe he will.â
you laugh at that, loud and bright, and for a second michael forgot to be overwhelmedâhe just laughed too.
later on, you brought him back into the living room with two mugs of hot chocolate, steam curling into the air. marshmallows floating on top, melting slowly into creamy clouds on the surface of the hot drink. he held the mug with both hands, careful not to spill.
as he took as small sip, his eyes widened immediately.
you watched him with a grin. âgood, right?â
michael nodded slowly, almost reverently. âthis is⌠really good.â
âitâs basically liquid happiness,â you declared before taking another sip of yours, a moustache of marshmallow forming on your upper lip.
he took another sip, pausing as he stared at the mug as though it had personally changed his life.
âi think iâve been missing out,â he admitted quietly.
something about the way he said it made your teasing smile soften, you sat down beside him on the carpet, close to the tree. the lights flickered gently, reflecting in michaelâs eyes. he stared at them again, the same look on his face as earlierâhalf wonder, half disbelief.
he didnât know how to explain the feeling, it was excitement, yes, but also something heavier that he couldnât quite name. it all felt unfair. unfair that he hadnât been before, how it all was robbed from him during his childhood.
michael shifted slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, his mug balanced between his hands. his gaze lingered on the ornaments, he noticed how each one was different. some looked expensive, shiny and perfect. others looked handmadeâpaper stars, little glittered cut-outs, a lopsided angel that clearly had been glued together by someone with no patience.
it made his chest tighten again because it wasnât about perfection. it was about memories.
you bumped your shoulder gently against his, snapping out of his thoughts with a blink.
âyouâre thinking too hard,â you told him.
âam not,â he replied automatically.
âyouâre doing that thing where you go quiet and look like youâre about to write a sad song.â
michael let out a breathy laugh. âmaybe i will.â
âwell donât,â you warned. âitâs christmas eve. sad songs are banned until at least january.â
michael glanced back at the tree. âitâs justâŚâ he began, then stopped, unsure how to come about what he was thinking. his fingers tightened around the mug. âi didnât know it would feel like this,â he admitted, voice softer now. âi thought it would just be decorations. stuff. but itâs-⌠itâs more than that.â
your expression softened completely. âit is,â you agreed.
âitâs almost sorta overwhelming,â he confessed, the honesty in his voice surprised even him. âin a good way. but⌠still overwhelming.â
you nodded slowly, understanding his point of view, eyebrows furrowed with sympathy. âthatâs okay,â you comfort gently. âitâs your first christmas. youâre allowed to be overwhelmed.â
his eyes flickered to you, something warm stirring in his chest at the way you said it.
âyour first christmas.â
you reached over and plucked one of the candy canes off the tree, holding it out. michael blinked blankly at you, confused on what you were doing.
âmichael,â you replied, dead serious, âitâs my tree. i make the rules.â
he hesitated, taking it carefully from your hands. he began to delicately unwrap it, like it could easily snap in his fingers, and tasted it, his face twisted slightly.
âit tastes minty, like toothpaste,â he commented.
âthatâs the point!â
he chewed slowly, his facial expressions changing as he made a new inner-opinion on the candy.
ââŚitâs strange,â he decided, not sure on if he actually liked it on not.
âyouâre strange,â you shot back.
he glanced at you, suddenly smiling widerâthe corner of his eyes crinkling with the
âyouâre literally chewing a candy cane like itâs a life decision.â
he laughed properly then, shoulders shaking slightly, his eyes bright.
and for the first time since heâd arrived, the tension in his posture eased. the tightness in his chest loosened, just a little, finally letting himself exist in the moment instead of worrying about what it meant.
later that night, you ended up upstairs in your room with sleeping bags spread across the floor. the radio played softly in the background, some christmas song crackling through the speakers that you happily hummed along to.
you lay on your back, staring at the ceiling, while michael lay beside you, hands folded neatly over his chest.
it was quiet now, the kind of quiet that felt safe. safe because you were with him.
you turned your head slightly towards him in the dark, the faint glow of the moon through the lace curtains highlighting his features.
âthat sounded like a lie.â
michael exhaled through his nose, amused. âitâs not a lie,â he insisted. âitâs just⌠I feel weird.â
his gaze stayed on the ceiling, but his voice lowered. âlike Iâm doing something Iâm not supposed to,â he admitted.
you went still before michael continued before you could respond, his voice gentle but honest.
âi know itâs silly. iâm nineteen years old. i shouldnât feel nervous over a tree and hot chocolate.â he paused, adding, almost embarrassed, âbut I do.â
you shifted onto your side, facing him, propping yourself up on your elbow as you looked down at him.
âit isnât silly, michael.â
his eyes flickered to you, âits not?â
âno,â you replied firmly. âitâs human.â
his stared at you in the dim light, the faint glow from the hallway slipping under the door. his face looked softer when he wasnât performingâless guarded.
âiâm glad you invited me,â he murmured.
âgood, because youâre stuck here now.â
michaelâs lips curved slightly. âam i?â
âuh-huh,â you confirmed. âyouâre part of Christmas now. sorrry. no refunds.â
he let out a quiet laugh, his expression turning gentle again. âiâve never had⌠a night like this,â he admitted.
your throat tightened a little but you still tried to keep it light.
âwell, get used to it. because youâre having another one next year.â
âyâpromise??â he asked, the words came out smaller than you expected as his gaze softened.
you hadnât realised how much he meant it, how much he wanted something stable that wouldnât disappear.
your voice softened completely. âi promise,â you whispered.
michael didnât speak after that, he just looked at you for a long moment, his gaze holding something you couldnât nameâtoo warm, too sincere.
he turned onto his side too, facing you. in the quiet, he murmured, âmerry christmas, y/n.â
âitâs still christmas eve,â you whispered, smiling gently.
âi know,â he replied. âbut i wanted to say it first.â
you stared at him, the room feeling suddenly too small, too warm.
âmerry christmas, michael,â you answered softly.
he closed his eyes after that, his breathing slowing as sleep finally began to take him. but even as he drifted off, his expression stayed peaceful, like heâd finally found something he didnât realise he was missing.
for a while, you lay there awake, listening to the quiet, feeling the weight of the moment settle gently around you, because this wasnât just a sleepoverâit was the beginning of something.
christmas morning came too fast.
the first thing you noticed was the cold. not in the room, your room was warm, but the kind of cold that came from the world outside. a pale light seeped through the curtains, soft and grey, and the air felt crisp, fresh, new.
you blinked slowly, still half asleep before you hear an uprupt rustle of movement from beside you.
you turn your head abruptly towards see michael was already awake, sat upright in his sleeping bag, hair slightly messy, eyes wide as if heâd been awake for hours. he looked like a kid trying to stay quiet so he wouldnât wake anyone, but failing miserably because his excitement was practically vibrating off him.
you stared at him from a second, trying to get to grips of what you were seeing before groaning.
âmichael,â you mumbled, voice raspy with sleep. âwhy are you sitting like that?â
he looked over at you immediately, like heâd been caught. âoh-, sorry,â he whispered, his voice hushed.
your eyes widened at his reply. âsix?!â you repeated, horrified. âmichael, itâs christmas, not a military operation.â
âi couldnât sleep,â he admitted.
you rolled onto your back dramatically.
âyouâre such an old man.â
michael scoffed quietly, offended. âi am not an old man.â
âyes you are,â you argued. âyouâre basically a grandfather trapped in the body of a pop star.â
michael laughed under his breath, shaking his head.
âiâm just⌠excited,â he confessed, and his voice softened on the last word. he stared down at his lap not meeting your eyesâa small smile growing on his face
you sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes. âalright,â you sighed. âcome on then. letâs go see the tree before you explode.â
his face brightened instantly at your proposal. you got out of your sleeping bag and crept downstairs together, careful not to make too much noise. the house was still asleep, the air quiet, the floorboards creaking softly beneath your feet.
when you reached the living room, the tree lights were still on, glowing gently in the dim morning light.
michael froze again, just like he had the night before, but this time his expression wasnât overwhelmed, he was almost ed amazed at the sight in front of him.
he stepped forward slowly, crouching down near the tree. his eyes scanned the pile of wrapped gifts, each one in different paper, different ribbons, different sizes.
his fingers hovered over one, not touching as he looked at the tagsânames written in neat handwriting, ây/nâ, âmumâ, âdadâ
he stared at it as if he couldnât believe it was real, looking up at you slowly.
âthatâsâŚâ he began, voice cracking slightly.
you smile softly at him. âyeah,â you replied. âthatâs yours.â
michael swallowed hard as he looked back at the presentâwhispering, almost to himself, âthatâs mine.â
he didnât move for a moment as if he was afraid to touch it, that it might be taken away if he reached too fast.
âhey, not just yet. presents are an after-dinner activity,â you ordered before playing swatting his hand away.
the hours after that felt like they passed in a blur. eventually, your mum came downstairs first, wrapped in a fluffy robe, her hair a mess but her face bright with that warm christmas morning glow with your dad followed not long after, half asleep and yawning like his body physically wasnât built for mornings.
michael stood up immediately when they walked in, like it was instinct, like his body couldnât stop itself.
âmorninâ, petâ your mum chirped, her voice loud enough to make michael flinch slightly.
âgood morning, maâam,â michael replied politely, straightening his posture.
your dad blinked at him, then laughed quietly. âchrist, heâs still doinâ that standinâ thing.â
your mum walked over and squeezed michaelâs shoulder gently, like she was already used to him being there. âmerry christmas, sweetheart.â
michael paused for a second, ââŚmerry christmas,â he said back, softer.
your dad shuffled into the living room, scratching the side of his face. âright,â he muttered. âwhereâs my coffee before i collapse.â
âwhat? iâm a simple man.â
michael let out a small laugh under his breath, the sound surprised even him. it was such a normal moment. so stupidly normal. and for the first time, he didnât feel like he was trespassing in someone elseâs life. he felt like he was part of it.
christmas dinner came quicker than anyone wanted.
your mum had been in full christmas mode all day, the kitchen basically becoming her personal battlefield. there was music playing from the radio, pots clanging, the smell of roast filling every inch of the house. every time you walked in, sheâd shove something into your hands.
âtell me if this needs more salt.â
and every time michael tried to help, sheâd practically shoo him away like he was a stray kitten.
âno, no, no. youâre a guest. you sit down.â
michael would blink, confused, like he wasnât used to adults being kind without expecting anything in return.
âare you sure?â he asked, polite as always.
âyes, iâm sure,â your mum insisted. âand if you try to argue, iâll make you peel potatoes for an hour.â
michaelâs eyes widened.
you leaned toward him and whispered, âsheâs not joking.â
he glanced at you, dead serious. âyeah, i believe you.â
by the time dinner was ready, the dining table looked insane.
it was covered in everythingâroast meat, golden potatoes, endless vegetables, stuffing, gravy, cranberry sauceâa ridiculous amount of food that couldâve fed a small army.
michael sat at the table quietly at first, hands folded neatly in his lap, watching everything like it was a scene from a movie heâd only ever heard about.
your dad poured him a drink, âthere yâgo, boy.â
michael blinked. âthank you, sir.â
âdonât call me sir,â your dad replied instantly. âmakes me feel like iâm about to arrest someone.â
your mum smacked your dadâs arm. âstop teasing him.â
âiâm not teasing him!â your dad protested. âiâm bonding.â
michael let out a soft laugh, his shoulders loosening.
you watched him, and your chest warmed at the sight, because he was laughing like he belonged here.
as dinner went on, the conversation became louder, warmer. your dad told the same old story he told every year about how he once nearly set the christmas pudding on fire, and your mum kept correcting him mid-sentence.
âthatâs not what happened!â
âno it isnât, dramatic idiot!â
michael laughed harder at that, covering his mouth slightly like he was trying not to.
you leaned closer to him. âyouâre enjoying this, arenât you?â
he hesitated, then nodded. ââŚyeah,â he admitted. âi really am.â
your mum glanced at him. âgood. because youâre stuck with us now.â
michael smiled, and it wasnât the polite kind he usually forced out, it was real.
your dad pointed his fork at michael. âso, michael. whatâs it like beinâ famous?â
michael paused mid-bite, his expression shifting slightly, like heâd braced himself. heâd heard that question a thousand times. every interview. every stranger. every adult who looked at him like he was a product instead of a person.
before he could answer, your dad shrugged. âactually, no. donât answer that. boring question. everyone asks that.â
michael blinked, surprised as your dad continued, âwhat i wanna know is⌠whatâs your favourite food?â
michael stared at him, âmy⌠favourite food?â
âaye,â your dad said. âeveryoneâs got one.â
michaelâs lips parted slightly, like his brain had short-circuited.
âi mean, i like enchiladas,â he admitted slowly.
your dad slapped the table. âYES. i like him, heâs well cultured.â
you burst out laughing along your mum rolled her eyes. âyou like anyone who likes enchiladas.â
âexactly,â your dad replied proudly.
michael laughed again, properly this time, head tipping forward slightlyx it hitting him then, quietly, like a soft waveâno one was asking him to perform, no one was asking him to sing, no one was asking about shows or cameras or albums or fame.
they were just talking to him.
and god it felt so good it almost hurt.
after dinner, your mum made everyone sit in the living room.
âright,â she announced, clapping her hands once. âpresents.â
your dad groaned dramatically. âfinally. my feet are goinâ numb.â
you grabbed michaelâs wrist and pulled him toward the tree before he could overthink it. his eyes immediately went to the gifts again. the ones with his name on them.
he crouched down slowly, like he still couldnât believe it was real as your mum handed him one small present first.
âfrom me,â she said sweetly.
he looked at the tag, then up at her, and his voice came out quiet. ââŚfor me?â
your mum smiled like it was obvious. âof course for you.â
he unwrapped it carefully, almost painfully slow, like he was terrified of tearing the paper too much.
inside was a warm knitted scarf, dark coloured, soft-looking.
michael stared at it before he touched it, his face softened instantly.
âohâŚâ he whispered. âitâs⌠beautiful.â
âput it on,â your mum ordered.
michael did, still looking slightly stunned, and your mum beamed like sheâd just accomplished her lifeâs mission.
your dad handed him another, the wrapping messy, tape just slapped on when it felt right. âfrom me.â
michael blinked again. âsirâ i mean⌠thank you.â
your dad snorted. âthere ya go.â
inside was a recordâa classic one, stevie wonder.
michael stared at it like heâd been handed a piece of treasure.
âi heard you like music, ân y/n mentioned you liked a bit of wonderâ your dad said casually.
ââŚi love music,â he corrected softly.
your dad nodded like heâd just won something. âgood. then i picked right.â
michael smiled at him, quiet but genuine. âthank you, so much,â he said again.
your mum clapped. âright. now your best friendâs present.â
you scooted forward, heart thumping stupidly hard, and grabbed the basket youâd worked on for hours.
you handed it to him nervously, michaelâs eyes widening the second he saw it. he didnât even move for a second.
ââŚwhat is this?â he asked, voice small.
âopen it,â you urged.
slowly, he pulled the ribbon loose and lifted the top.
and then he saw everything.
his fingers froze on the frame, his eyes stared at it for so long you almost got nervous.
âjanet took that,â you explained softly. âremember? when we fell asleep.â
michael didnât answer, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. he began picked it up carefully, like it could break in his hands.
then his gaze dropped to the note, pulling it out gently. you watched his face change as he read.
his expression shifted from curiosity, to softness, to something dangerously emotional.
his expression shifted from curiosity, to softness, to something dangerously emotional.
his eyes shimmered, your stomach dropping immediately.
ââŚmichael?â you whispered.
ââŚyou wrote all this?â his voice cracked slightly.
you nodded, suddenly nervous. âyeah.â
michael stared at the paper again, like he couldnât believe words could be that gentle. his eyes filled properly this time.
he looked down fast, wiping his face with his sleeve like he was embarrassed.
âiâm sorry,â he muttered, voice shaky. âiâm sorry, i donât know why iâm-â
âmichael,â you cut in softly, scooting closer.
he kept wiping at his face, but the tears didnât stop. your mumâs face softened instantly, and even your dad looked awkwardly emotional, clearing his throat and pretending he suddenly found the carpet fascinating.
michael sniffed quietly, voice barely above a whisper. âno oneâs ever⌠gotten me something like this. put so much effort into something for me.â
your heart clenched as you moved closer and wrapped your arms around him without even thinking.
michael froze for half a second before he melted into it, leaning into your touch. his hands clutched the note and the photo against his chest like he was scared it would disappear as you held him tighter.
âyou deserve it,â you whispered.
michaelâs voice was muffled against your shoulder.
ââŚitâs too much.â
âno,â you murmured, pulling back just enough to look at him. âitâs not. itâs literally the bare minimum because youâre amazing. youâre the best thing to happen to me, michael.â
michaelâs wet lashes fluttered as he looked at you, his eyes red but glowing. ââŚthank you,â he whispered.
you smiled gently. âyouâre welcome.â
he hugged you again, this time tighter, like he meant it with his whole soul, burying his head into your shoulder to hide the fact he was crying.
once everything was cleaned up and your mum had forced everyone to eat dessert, you dragged michael back into the living room.
âmovie time,â you announced.
michael blinked. ânow?â
âyes now,â you insisted. âchristmas tradition, you canât escape.â
your dad immediately sat down like heâd been waiting for this moment his whole life.
âif itâs not a good one, iâm leavinâ.â
your mum rolled her eyes. âyou always say that and then fall asleep anyway.â
you shoved a blanket at michael and flopped down onto the sofa. he hesitated before sitting, carefully, like he still wasnât fully convinced he was allowed.
the movie began to startâit was one of those cheesy christmas ones, full of snow and dramatic music and characters making ridiculous decisions, your dad making commentary the whole time.
âwhyâs he runninâ? whyâs he always runninâ in these films?â
your mum hissed, âshut up.â
michael laughed quietly, his eyes on the screen and you watched him from the side.
his face was softâpeaceful, as if the weight of the world had finally stopped pressing down on his shoulders for once.
at some point, without realising, you shifted closer⌠and michael didnât move away. instead, he leaned slightly too, your shoulders touched, then your arms, then your side pressed against his.
you both pretended it was accidental. but it wasnât.
your heart started beating stupidly fast. michaelâs breathing was slow, calm, but his fingers twitched slightly near his lap, like he was debating whether or not to do something.
then, carefully, he lifted his arm and rested it along the back of the couch.
not quite around you⌠but close.
you glanced up at him, but he was staring at the movie like it was the most important thing in the world. his ears were slightly pink and you swear your brain almost exploded.
slowly, you leaned into him more, and this time, he let you.
his arm lowered gently, wrapping around you properly as your head slowly started
to rest against his shoulder. michaelâs whole body tensed for a second, like he didnât know if he was allowed to before soon he relaxed.
your dad yawned loudly halfway through the movie.
âthis is borinâ. iâm goinâ to bed.â
your mum smacked his arm again.
âitâs the best part!â
âitâs literally the same plot every year,â your dad argued, already half asleep.
michael chuckled softly, and you felt the vibration of it through his chestâit was warm.
everything about him was warm ; the blanket, the couch, the lights from the tree, the quiet laughter.
michael, without even meaning to, slowly started to drift off, you could feel it. his head tipped slightly toward yours as his breathing deepened, his body grew heavier against you.
and before you knew itâŚ
curled into you like it was the most natural thing in the world. your heart basically stopped once you realised because michael jackson, your best friend, was literally sleeping on you like you were his favourite pillow.
you sat there for ages, not moving, scared that if you shifted even an inch youâd wake him.
and you didnât want to because he looked so peaceful, like heâd never felt peace like that before.
eventually though, the movie ended. your mum peeked in, smiling softly when she saw the two of you.
you mouthed back, âdonât.â
she giggled silently and disappeared again.
sighing , you gently shook michaelâs shoulder.
âmichael⌠heyâŚâ you whisper softly to him, trying to wake him up slowly.
he stirred slightly. ââŚhmm?â
he blinked slowly, confused, then looked down at himself like heâd forgotten where he was.
ââŚoh,â he murmured, voice sleepy.
you smirked. âold man.â
michael scoffed weakly. âshut upâŚâ
you stood up and offered him your hand. âcome on. bed time.â
michael hesitated. âi can sleep on the floor again.â
âno,â you insisted. âyouâre not sleeping on the floor on christmas.â
he looked like he wanted to argue, but he didnât. he just nodded and followed you upstairs quietly.
when you got back to your room you handed him the pair of pyjamas that laid in his gift basket before reaching into your dresser to pull up your matching pair.
his eyes flickered up to you. ââŚwe match?â
you shrugged innocently. âyeah. obviously.â
michaelâs lips twitched. ââŚyou planned this.â
âmaybe,â you murmured, smirking.
michael shook his head with a quiet laugh, but his cheeks were pink again.
you both changed, and when he stepped back into the room wearing them, he looked almost stunned.
like he couldnât believe he was actually wearing christmas pyjamas.
you grinned. âaw, youâre adorable.â
michaelâs eyes widened. âi am not adorable.â
you pointed at him. âyouâre literally a christmas elf.â
michael gasped, offended. âa christmas elf?!â
he shook his head, laughing. âyouâre mean.â
but you could tellâhe liked it.
he liked matching. he liked feeling included. he liked being part of something, especially when itâs with you.
you both got into the sleeping bags again and within ten minutes, you were already regretting it.
you shifted, annoyed in your sleeping bags, the rustling echoing around the room. âthis is so uncomfortable, how did we do this last night?â
michael sighed too, shifting slightly. âyeahâŚâ
you rolled onto your side. âwhy does it feel like iâm sleeping on concrete.â
michael stared up at the ceiling. ââŚyour bed looks very comfortable.â
ââŚdo you wanna sleep in it?â
michaelâs eyes widened, immediately sitting up slightly.
âiâ i donât want to invade your space.â
you rolled your eyes. âmichael. you literally cried over fluffy socks earlier. youâre not invading anything.â
michaelâs cheeks flushed. ââŚi didnât cry over the socks.â
âyou cried over my love. which is worse.â
michael let out a quiet laugh at the comment.
you sat up and patted the mattress. âcome on. just sleep. itâs christmas.â
michael hesitated again then slowly nodded. âmâkay.â
you both climbed into bed, the covers warm, instantly better than the sleeping bags.
you turned onto your side, facing away from him. âgânight,â you murmured as you pulled the covers close underneath your chin.
âânight,â michael replied softly.
you closed your eyes, but you didnât actually fall asleep, you just stayed still, breathing evenly, pretending.
you could feel him behind you, shifting slightly like he was trying to get comfortableâmaybe debating something.
and then slowly, carefullyâŚ
you felt his arm gently slide around your waist as though he was scared youâd pull away.
his hand rested there, light but warm, and his body pressed closer behind you. your breath caught in your throat, but you stayed stillâpretending you were asleep.
michaelâs forehead rested against the back of your shoulder, his breathing slow and calm felt faintly against your skin, and for a long moment, everything went quiet. just the sound of the house settling, the faint hum of christmas lights downstairs, his warmth radiating behind you, his arm holding you like it was the safest place in the world.
and you realised, suddenly :
this wasnât just a christmas sleepover anymore.
this was something else, something that was starting to bloom, quietly, right under your skin.
it was something that neither of you were brave enough to say out loud yet but you could feel it anyway. the both of you.
tags : @wondergotham @kietourhrt @xxxercess @ceeriusly-dumb @melynex @sscrumertt @lov3lylxvender @darkgreengrl @frangiipanii @starliqhtsworld @izluvsyou @uknownn111 @yoneida
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