𝑯𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑵𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆

𑣲⋆ summary : you both belong to someone else, but something’s going unspoken between you two and you both know exactly what it is and what it means.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ dads best friend!michael jackson x reader

a/n : this is my first attempt at ever actually writing smut so if it’s mediocre pls just give me grace lmfao

w.c : 21k including part 1

inspired by @prettyangeliczz dbf series

smut ahead — 18+

rain lashed violently against the taxi windows, blurring streetlights into streaks of gold and white as droplets danced down the glass.

the driver glanced nervously into the mirror several times, evidently concerned at the current state of you in the back seat, utterly distraught, clearly unsure whether to say something but choosing not you, to which you internally appreciated that he didn’t.

you couldn’t have spoken anyways if he did. your chest heaved as you tried to compose yourself, the previously thickly clumped mascara on your eyelashes now smeered down your cheeks dramatically. you almost could physically feel the heartbreak within you, each hiccup of a breath catching painfully in your throat.

and through all the internal commotion occurring within your tiny mind, one thought remained.

michael.

not your father, not your mother, or your friends or even just going home to your bed and crying yourself to sleep—it was michael.

it made no sense, absolutely none. after the long weeks, soon months, of silence, you should’ve wanted nothing to do with him. you should’ve been angry and bitter about it all.

instead, all you could think about was him. the way he always knew when something was wrong as you sat silently in the living room. how he’d quietly appear beside you during family parties whenever you looked overwhelmed by the constant commotion zooming past you. how the manner of his voice could calm you down almost instantly, always speaking delicately like any decibel higher could cause serious damage—you’d spent four months pretending you didn’t miss him.

soon enough, the taxi finally slowed in front of the large gates that appeared through the rain. as you looked at them they appeared intimidating, the familiarity of them also brought a sense of striking comfort as well—the sight alone nearly made you cry harder as you remembered who sat behind said gates.

suddenly, you realised how ridiculous this was. he wouldn’t want you here, he’d spent the last half-year ignoring and avoiding you, why would he want you at his front door? he spent months making it painfully clear he wanted distance, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to leave—not that you no longer could anyways as you heard the taxi take off behind you.

minutes later you found herself standing outside the house, rain successfully now fully soaking the dress you wore earlier, now clinging awkwardly to your body along with your hair that stuck awkwardly to your face in the mixture of wind and strong patters of rain. the sky was dark and heavy overhead, everything dwell feeling unreal, almost as of a dream—a terrible one at that.

you clumsily made your way up the small flight of stairs that stood infront of the front door of the ranch before knocking as loud as you could on the door, leaving a faint ache in your knuckles to which you winced.

once.

then twice.

soon three times.

yet nothing—only silence bar the increasingly powerful beads of water plummeting from the sky onto you unapologetically.

contrastingly warm fresh tears spilled down your face at the realisation that he really didn’t want you there.

and still, you hit the door harder, now using your whole fists to pound on the wood desperately, almost frantically. the booming sound echoed through the night surrounding you.

and still nothing.

a broken sob escaped you followed by another, until suddenly you weren’t knocking anymore—now you were crying.

your shoulders shook violently as you began crying uncontrollably. gradually, you unconsciously lowered yourself to the ground beneath you, folding in on yourself as more loud sobs escaped your mouth, no longer noticing the weather around you or the fact you were completely and utterly soaked and definitely waking up with a cold the following morning.

the thoughts circled your mind that maybe this had been a mistake, that he’d tell you to leave or just not answer at all, leaving you a wreck at his front door step without even knowing.

maybe—

the door flew open, nearly slamming into the wall as michael’s frame filled the door, looking out infront of him in a mixture of confusion, frustration and anger.

“what the hell is—“ he began before his voice abruptly stopped, a thick silence following as he looked down the ground to be met with the girl folded into a soaked ball infront of him.

michael stood still, framed in the doorway, his hair messy from sleep, plaid sweatpants hanging low on his hips with an oversized shirt half tucked into them.

his expression still twisted with irritation from being dragged out of bed, until he saw you—when he saw you, everything changed.

any anger originally pronounced on his features vanished so quickly it was almost frightening, his face nearly draining of colour as his widened at the sight below him.

“wha—“ his voice broke off.

you looked absolutely wrecked, rain dripping from your hair, makeup smeared, cheeks red, and physically trembling whether it was your bottom lip or hands.

you curled in on yourself at the top of his front steps like the world had ended. and the sound you made, a broken little sob involuntarily leaving your lips, nearly stopped his heart let alone his whole world.

for four months michael convinced himself staying away was the right thing. during said four months he’d forced himself not to call, not to text, not to ask about you during the brief calls and catch ups he made with your dad. four four months he’d built walls high enough to keep himself safe.

and yet one look at you and every single one of them shattered—instantly.

“oh, baby,” he croaked under his breath, his voice slightly cracking.

his words were no longer angry anymore, now only soaked in worry. his eyes scanned you rapidly, instinctively for injuries, for blood, anything.

“why are— are you hurt?”

you couldn’t answer, only a sob escaping instead as you curled further in on yourself in a mixture of emotional agony and embarrassment of letting him seeing you in such a depressingly vulnerable state.

michael instantly leaped towards you reflexively, barely noticing the rain. his chest tightening with every step as your weeps grew louder as time moved on.

he was petrified to say the least, never having seen you like this. not once. not even during university, during your worst moments, or your break up.

by the time he reached you, his heart was hammering violently, the thuds echoing in his ears yet paid it no mind.

when you finally you looked up at him michael’s heart immediately sank at the state of you infront of him—eyes puffy and red, mascara running unforgivingly on your cheeks, your lips slightly swollen and wet from both tears, rain, and snot.

for a brief moment all either of you could do was stare at each other.

four months. four months without hearing your voice, without seeing your face, not allowing himself to be near you.

now those four months were completely gone, to which none of it mattered now. not when you were sitting on his doorstep crying like your heart had been ripped out out of your chest.

“hey, hey, hey… you’re alright. i’ve got you now, you’re okay,” michael assured, his voice coming out softer than intended, the concern impossible to hide as he gathered you firmly in his arms, feeling you physically shaking in his grasp.

you buried your face roughly in your hands, now deeply regretting coming over and having him see you such a wreck.

“hey. look at me,” michael encouraged, gently trying to pry your hands away from your face to which you let him. your lower lip trembled as you meet his eyes, another tear slid down your cheek.

michael felt something inside him crack, slowly becoming more aware of how broken you were appearing infront of him—vulnerability fully on display.

“c’mon, talk to me,” he stroked the back off your head with gentle motions.

you shook your head in dismay as more weeps and whimpers make their way out, leaving you physically unable to get out any words. that somehow worried michael even more.

the rain was soaking through both of your clothes, michael now almost as drowned in rain water as you. still, he doesn’t care. his only priority is making sure you’re okay.

his eyes searched yours desperately, trying to understand what was going on in your pretty little head, wanting nothing more than to fix something he didn’t even know was broken.

for the first time in four months, neither of you cared about the distance anymore, because whatever had happened, whatever had brought you here in the middle of the night, was bigger than pride and guilt. bigger than all the reasons he’d spent months convincing himself to stay away for, and looking at you now michael realised something terrifying—if you asked him not to leave your side tonight, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so.

michael soon realised he likely wasn’t going to be able to get any answers from you at his moment, so with that he picked you up in his arms, able to feel his arms flex as he did, and wrapping your legs around his torso with your arms around his neck as you buried your face in the crook of it.

he was quick to bring you over to his bedroom, placing you so softly on the bed you’d think he thought you’d break like porcelain if he did any rougher.

making his way to his closet to grab dry clothes for you both, all that could be heard in the room were the stifled sobs from you, burying a hand over your mouth in fear of being obnoxious.

at this point, you were no longer crying at the fact you were cheated on, more so that after all this time away, michael still treated you like the princess he always did. taking care of you in the way you always wanted him to through these years of hardship you’d had to endure.

michael shortly came back with an oversized donald duck t-shirt. he made his way infront of you on the bed, pinching his thumb and index finger on your chin to make you look up at him, followed by the slight brush of his finger tips wiping away the tears trickling down your cheeks. he stared at you in a way that’d make you think he’d burst into tears himself any minute.

he crouched down infront of you on his knees, his hands placed still on the hem of your dress, looking up at you for permission to take it off to which you granted.

if anyone was to walk in and catch glimpse of the two of you they’d sure have a completely different idea of what was currently unfolding in michael’s bedroom. but to you both, michael was just taking care of you, helping you through the rough night.

he slowly moved your dress further up your torso, trying his best to be a gentleman and not gaze admirably at the way your body was slowly revealing itself to him the more he rose it up, eventually making its way to your chest.

that morning you decided not to wear a bra with your dress, complaining to yourself in the mirror how you could see your bra straps. i mean, you didn’t exactly expect to find yourself getting cheated on, turning up to michael’s doorstep in tears, and the said dress now being stripped off you by michael himself.

as your dress was now completely thrown over your head, you sat exposed on michael’s bed, nothing but the underwear you put on that morning on your body. you make an attempt to cover yourself, blushing intensely in embarrassment at the fact you were now sat shirtless infront of your dad’s best friend.

yet to your surprise, michael had no interest in gawking at you—with him being a man and all, you typically expected him to stare lasciviously at you, scanning you up and down with a lustful glint in his eyes and a lick of his lips. but instead, he did quite the opposite.

michael didn’t break eye contact with you the entire time he helped you change, only to grab the shirt and bring it over your head, careful not to tug at you too harshly. with the way michael looked at you, you would’ve thought you were fully clothed, not paying any mind at the nudity infront of him which eased you slightly.

your crying completely stopped soon afterwards—not particularly because you weren’t sad anymore, you just physically couldn’t cry anymore and now only left with a pounding headache and soaked hair.

michael soon changed himself into a new pair of pyjamas, which just consisted of a loose white v-neck and cotton mickey mouse trousers, he made his way over you who was still sat where he placed you in the beginning, staring motionless at the floor with a blank stare, exhaustion evident in your swollen eyes.

you felt the mattress of the bed dip beside you as michael plopped himself beside you, his thigh touching yours unapologetically. the second you became aware of it, you couldn’t become unaware. michael’s leg was pressed lightly against your own where you both sat side by side on the edge of the bed, and neither of you moved.

it felt ridiculous that something so small and casual could make you so aware of every inch of yourself. yet there you were, frozen in place, hoping he couldn’t somehow hear the absolute panic unfolding inside your head.

a thick silence filled the room, both of yous waiting for the other to say something to break it.

“‘m sorry…” you croak out, barely audible as you look down at your lap, fidgeting with the hem of michael’s shirt that was definitely too big for you—almost looking like a dress on you.

his gaze immediately snapped towards you, eyebrows knitted together in a combination of sadness and confusion. “why you sorry?” he spoke, his voice coming out in that signature soft spoken nature.

your bottom lip begins to quiver, shaking your head as you felt yourself starting to cry again, scrunching your face up to try stop any tremors in your face.

your chest hitched violently as another sob clawed its way out of you. god, you hated this.

you hated the way your face felt swollen and hot and the way dried tears sticking to your skin. the fact that only a some minutes ago you’d been curled up on michael’s doorstep, crying so hard you could barely breathe. the memory alone made fresh embarrassment wash over you.

you squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head. “i—… i don’t know,” you whispered brokenly, swallowing hard as you felt the build up of saliva in your throat.

michael didn’t look convinced, studying your face carefully for any clues of what you could be thinking. “angel...”

the nickname alone nearly made you cry again, your hands flying to your face as a choked sound escaped you. ‘it’s so embarrassing.”

“what is?” he whispers, clearly confused at what you were trying to get at.

“this,” you gestured vaguely at yourself, looking at him pathetically. “showing up here like that ‘n making you deal with me.”

michael’s expression immediately softened, shaking his head in denial as he shifted closer to your side, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side. “oh, sweetheart.”

you let out a miserable laugh that sounded more like a sob, leaning into the comfort of his chest, a faint smell of fresh laundry and lavender filling your nose. “god, i must’ve looked insane.”

“y’looked upset,” he corrects, rubbing the back of his nails up and down your arm in a delicate manner.

“i was a sobbing ball at your front door, michael.”

“and?”

you dropped your hands, staring at him in disbelief though was already looking at you, his brows pulled together with concern.

“you really think i care about that? shit, baby… i felt sick seeing you like that.”

your blink harshly as you felt more tears blurring your vision, the droplets making their way down your cheeks before landing on your lap in a puddle. “i just… didn’t know where else to go.”

the admission came out so quietly you almost hoped he hadn’t heard, michael’s face breaking a little when he did.

“well, you came to the right place,” he comforted in a hushed tone, still staring intensely at the side of you face and watching as more tears cascaded down your jaw.

hearing michael’s statement was your breaking point, a fresh sob involuntarily escaped your throat to which michael shifted even closer, letting you know he was there.

“hey, hey.” his voice gentle. “talk t’me, pretty girl.”

you shook your head, looking away from him. “i— i can’t,” you let out, a small hiccup interrupting your sentence.

“yeah, you can. i know you can.”

“no michael, i can’t,” you argue, pushing the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“y’don’t have to tell me everything,” he reassured, placing his hand over yours with his thumb brushing over your hands that lay over your lap. “jus’ tell me what’s hurting you.”

your breathing stuttered, small, involuntary jolts interrupting your breathing in ragged breaths.

and michael waited. no pressure. no frustration. just patience, allowing you to somewhat get yourself together.

his silent response left a heavy feeling in your chest, because no matter how old you got, there was something about the way he looked at you right now made you want to cry into his shoulder and let somebody else hold the weight for once. he displayed genuine worry and sympathy towards you and he hadn’t even been told what’d happened yet.

a few minutes followed before you finally managed to gain composure a bit, dragging in one large breath with a long exhale before clearing your throat to talk.

“i saw— i-i got…” you started to talk, thinking you finally had enough strength to explain to michael why the hell you decided to spontaneously waltz up in rain to his front door at 11pm at night.

your mind started spinning as you though back to the previous events of the day, and to much of your dismay, you found yourself welling up again, silently cursing to yourself in annoyance.

you knew michael was starting to get fed up of this—why wouldn’t he be? having a girl sat in his bed crying for the past half-hour when he could’ve been fast asleep.

“c’mon pretty girl, you’re okay. use them words for me,” michael coached, rest his chin on your head, beginning to physically feel the involuntary shakes of your shoulders.

he brought his large hand to the back of your head, almost practically engulfing it as he placed small, delicate strokes through your long strands.

you took in one large, shallow breath before continuing. “its just— i saw my boyfriend kissing another girl in the store, tonight.”

michael’s face immediately contorts into an expression you couldn’t understand particularly—his jaw clenched but yet his eyes remained gentle as they gaze at you.

michael’s stomach twisted the moment you told him. he hadn’t even known you were seeing someone again, and the news hit him harder than he expected. anger simmered beneath the surface as he thought about how easily your boyfriend had thrown away what michael would have treasured. he hated the thought of you crying over someone who didn’t appreciate you, and a selfish part of him couldn’t stop thinking that he would never have treated you that way.

never.

as you were about to continue again, it soon dawned on you like a sudden crash—it dawned on you that your boyfriend cheating on you wasn’t the reason you were crying.

sure, maybe it was in the beginning, but not when you got into that taxi, or when you were making contact with the cold, wet concrete of michael’s steps.

now you were in this position because you were equally as hurt and angry at michael’s flee from your life, leaving you stranded alone with no final goodbyes or at least a polite smile.

nothing.

before you could stop yourself, you quickly find yourself asking him despite yourself, “why’d you leave me?”

michael moves back slightly, his grasp on your hands slackening as he slowly processes what you just said. your words came out so abrupt he was taken aback, for a second believe he almost completely imagined them.

“wh— what?”

“why’d you start avoiding me? why’d you stop going to the gatherings my dad planned? you know damn well you had no fucking interviews michael. no fittings, no meetings. no nothing.”

you didn’t even realise what you were saying anymore, your mouth talking before you could even process what you were delivering. the deep self-hatred and frustration for what michael did to you, leaving you alone and confused in the dark for the past four months was know escaping through your words, leaving michael staring wide-eyed at you, scanning at the way your face contorted gradually, turning from the initial sadness from before to irritation.

“i waited for you michael, for so long,” you point at him, getting up from your spot on the bed and now standing directly infront of him.

“i waited for something. anything. anything that gave me some communication on why the fuck you were ignoring all my calls and your obvious avoidance of me,” you sobbed, your eyes brimming up with tears again, but you refused to let them fall.

“you left me alone, michael. all alone thinking that i did something wrong. leaving me to lie in my bed alone at night to psychoanalyse every damn conversation we’d exchanged in the past year to try get any hint or insight of why the hell you up and went.”

michael didn’t respond at all, still sat on the bed and looking up at you, his jaw dropped slightly crooked to the side as he took in your admittance, quietly drowning in his own guilt.

“i—“ your voice cracked, but rapidly composed yourself with an awkward cough. “i tried to understand you michael, i really did. but i just—“ you paused, shaking your head as you look up at the ceiling in defeat almost.

“i don’t. i don’t get it. any of it. and i think that’s what hurt the most. the way i couldn’t give myself any valid reason to try comfort myself with for your disappearance,” you finally admitted, taking a long deep sigh as you rub your eyes roughly with the sides of your hands.

michael idly continued to sit on the bed, the silence stretching thickly in the large bedroom that’d now felt a lot smaller.

you almost laughed at his soundless reaction, honestly finding it pathetic. obviously you weren’t laughing because anything was funny, but because somehow, some-fucking-how, now he wasn’t saying anything. four months of silence and apparently he’d kept it with him.

“oh my fucking god, say something!” you barked, growing more impatient by the second. you’d just told michael exactly what’d you’ve been feeling, and now all your met with is silence.

an all familiar silence.

michael swallowed hard, his eyes had dropped to the floor sometime during your outburst. when he finally looked back up, there was something miserable sitting behind his expression.

“look i… i don’t know what to say.”

his answer hit you like a slap, a disbelieving laugh escaping your throat at the pathetic response. “what? that’s your excuse?”

“no,” he says almost immediately with a dismissive shake of his head.

“because it sounds like an excuse,” you snap, a unwitting scowl beginning to creep up in your face.

“i promise it isn’t.”

“then what is it, michael?” you press on, folding you arms as you await a response with raised eyebrows.

he started by opening his mouth to which came out. instantly your chest tightened at the action, because there it was again—that same wall, same distance he’d given you this whole conversation let alone the past half-year. even when sitting two feet away from you, he felt unreachable.

“y’know what?” you said, shaking your head with an unforgiving scowl. “forget it. all of it.”

you stepped back, ready to leave before michael stood immediately, panic littering his expression.

“don’t.”

“don’t what?”

“don’t walk away,” he pleaded, his voice cracking marginally. “please.”

the irony of the words made your eyes burn, your bottom lip trembling slightly with both fury and something else.

“are you actually fucking serious?” you mutter the question, almost talking to yourself in utter disbelief of his audacity to ask you not to leave after a he lengthy period of silent treatment you just had to endure.

michael’s face fell in reaction to your almost soundless reaction, staring into your eyes as his mouth was left slowly agape.

“you don’t get to say that to me,” looking up at him now infront of you, pointing your index finger into his chest. “you don’t get to disappear for months and then tell me not to walk away.”

“i know,” michael agreed, grabbing your hand to which you roughly pull it back, causing michael to flinch slightly with a hard blink.

“no, i don’t think you do,” your voice rising despite yourself, your frustration getting the best of you. “because if you did, you would’ve thought about me before you left.”

michael’s expression darkened, the movement small and should’ve been barely noticeable, but you caught it.

good.

maybe he deserved to hurt—perhaps you wanted him to after hurting you.

but that thought made you feel sick. of course you didn’t want him to hurt. even after the bullshit he put you through, deep down you still loved him through all of it, and you still did in the moment.

“you really think i didn’t think about you?” michael’s voice spoke, so quiet you wouldn’t have caught it if it wasn’t deathly silent in the room, his voice quivering.

you blinked, staring back at him blankly. “what?”

his jaw clenched as he began to feel his bottom lip trembling slightly. for the first time since you’d started yelling, something sparked behind his eyes—something raw and exhausted finally glistening through those dark, expressive eyes.

“you think i woke up one day and decided i didn’t care?”

“i don’t know what to think!” the confession ripping itself from your throat. “you never gave me anything, michael!”

your voice ruthlessly cracked, hot beads of tears running silently down your cheeks, collecting at your chin before falling to the floor with a muted splash—though as quiet as it was, it echoed in michael’s ears.

“you just— you just left.”

as the room fell into a kind of silence that although in reality was quiet, it still felt deafening. the words settled as michael looked away first—which hurt more than if he’d stared. because he looked guilty, like he knew damn well what he’d done.

“you should hate me,” was all he said, staring blankly at the floor, clearly deep in internal conflict.

his words were so quiet you almost missed them, having to run them over twice in your head to actually realise what he was saying.

you stared at him, scanning his face for any indication of what he meant. “wha.. what do you—“

“you should,” he interrupted with a nod, his throat bobbed as he ran his hands over his face. “i would’ve.”

any anger you’d held leaked out of you all at once, leaving only confusion at his response. “what are you talking about?”

michael laughed once, shaking his head. “i know what i did.”

“then why?” your voice broke, vision fogging over as you felt like all stages of grief washed over you with a cruel spatter.

his eyes squeezed shut—for the first time all night, he looked genuinely trapped. not necessarily by you, but by himself.

“michael,” you call out, trying to get an answer from him after his guilty admission.

“stop.”

“no, answer me,” you continue ruthlessly, your voice now softened despite yourself. “please, just tell me.”

michael looked at you—really looked at you, his large dark eyes meeting yours and now suddenly you wished he hadn’t, the overwhelming emotion in them almost breaking you completely inside as much as you tried to resist.

“if i tell you,” he said quietly, “you’re gonna hate me anyway.”

a tear finally slipped down your cheek until wiped it away angrily. “at least then i’d have a reason.”

that definitely landed. you visibly saw it land, the way his entire face crumple for half a second.

‘a reason.’

because that was the problem, wasn’t it? not that he’d left—not entirely. it was that he’d left you without explanation. no closure, or giving you something to hold. you’d spent four months trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing, a certain puzzle you didn’t deserve to have to solve.

michael looked away instantly, staring blankly somewhere behind you, and when he finally spoke, his voice sounded tired. “every day,” he started, swallowing harshly.

you frowned in confusion, slightly cocking your head to the side. “what?”

“every day i picked up my phone,” michael laughed bitterly, exhaling through his nose, slow and shaky. “every day i told myself i’d call.”

the admission made the room suddenly feel entirely too cramped. a pause of silence filled the air, leaving only the faint patter of rains from outside and the jagged breathing from the two of you.

you blinked a couple times in confusion, briefly thinking you misheard him at first. “well then why didn’t you?”

now his eyes met yours, and there it was again—that awful look, like he was standing at the edge of something. his deep eyes saying something you couldn’t decipher. “i just—“ he paused yet again, visibly trying to search for the right words only to end up saying. “i couldn’t.”

you drag your fingers through your dampened hair, shaking your head in disbelief at his cowardly response.“that’s not an answer, michael.”

“i know,” he frowned slightly, rubbing his clammy hands on the back of his trousers.

“then give me one!” your voice raised, impatience growing by the second.

“look i— i can’t,” he argued, squeezing his eyes shut as he started rubbing at his temples.

tears you’d fought so hard finally spilled, frustration now getting the better of you as his vague words filled your thoughts, wondering why he was being so secretive. “why?” you bark, your voice causing him to flinch slightly.

michael’s face twisted, his nose crunching up, because he had an answer. you could see it, he had one. and he was refusing to say it.

“you don’t get to do this,” you whispered, your lips pursing into a tight line as you took another step backwards to create more distance from him. “you don’t get to keep hurting me to protect whatever fuckin’ secret you’re holding. i deserve to know, michael.”

his entire body stilled, his shoulders evidently tensing at your words.

that word— ‘protect’ —hit something inside his chest, hard to miss.

your heart sank at the physical reaction your argument brought to him, as for the first time all night you understood—not the the reason particularly but enough to acknowledge that this ordeal wasn’t easy for him either. now knowing he hadn’t left because he didn’t care.

that realisation hurt you the most, because if he didn’t stop caring then that meant he chose to leave anyway.

the brutal realization shattered something inside you, a broken sound escaped your throat as you were beginning to discover the reason for his sudden absence.

michael appeared devastated infront of you, pinching his nose with a sharp breath, his jaw beginning to tense up.

you hated him—hated that he looked heartbroken, hated that you still wanted to cross the room and hold him, hated that part of you still loved him enough to understand.

and perhaps he hated himself too, since when he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, which was almost worse than if he was yelling. he scrubbed his face with his large hands before saying, “if i could go back…” until he stopped, swallowing thickingly before trying again.

“if i could go back, i’d do a lot of things differently.”

hope surged through your chest at his words before you could stop it, that maybe he regretted his actions and wanted you close again.

that was before he then destroyed it.

“but i’d still leave.”

the room fell dead silent after the finalisation of his words, you staring at him in a mixture of hurt, confusion and disbelief. you searched his face for any kind of indication of maybe he was joking only to find nothing.

michael looked like the words physically hurt to say, tracing the veins of his hand with his fingers in an attempt to distract himself from the thick, unmistakable tension unfolding in the room. and still he repeated them anyway—

“i’d still leave.”

the tears on your cheeks suddenly felt freezing cold, the words repeating ruthlessly in your mind. you shook your head once, trying to make sense of what he was getting at.

you further stepped back from him, large distance now between you two.

“no..” you shook your head. “no,” you repeat again, another laugh escaping you, broken and disbelieving. “no, that doesn’t make any sense. that’s… that’s not fair.”

michael’s eyes squeezed shut, running his hand through his sleep-frizzed hair as he tried to compose himseld.

“make it make sense,” you snapped, the words hitting him like a slap.

his head dropped for a moment, shoulders rising with a sharp inhale before he looked back at you. “you think i wanted this?” he asked, staring deeply into your tearful eyes.

“wanted what?” you shot back immediately. “because from where i’m standing, michael, you disappeared,” you fumed, pointing an aggressive finger at him. “you left me wondering what i’d done wrong. left me thinking maybe i wasn’t important enough for a goodbye.”

“i know,” he nodded, a guilty frown appearing evident on his face.

“do you?” you countered, taking a single small step forward as you squint angrily at him. “do you?” you repeated, slightly louder this time.

michael turned away, pacing two steps before stopping himself. his hand found the back of his neck, squeezing hard with a large sigh. “i know exactly what i did.”

“then why?” you ask, your voice breaking to some degree that made michael’s heart break instantly.

the question hung heavily between you, a substantial silence following. always the same question—“why?”

michael laughed once, the sound miserable before turning around again to face you, his expression voicing a kind of hurr that almost broke you as soon as you saw it. “you really want to know?”

“yes, of course i fucking do, michael!” you yell, arms thrown up in the air before letting them fall again with a slap to your thighs.

you were growing more and more fed up with michael’s excuses and meaningless responses as time went on.

“because i couldn’t stay!” michael shout startled both of you, pointing aggressively to the floor. another silence crashed down immediately afterwards, you both took aback at the sheer volume and heaviness of his words.

michael looked away first, trying to look anywhere but at you, his chest heaving heavier gradually as time passed. for a second he looked horrified by his own outburst.

“you couldn’t stay,” you repeated quietly, the lack of volume almost worse than shouting to him.

his throat bobbed, still refusing to meet your heavy gaze on him. his bottom lip began to tremble slightly before biting harshly on it, enough to where he began to taste that familiar taste of iron in his mouth.

“what? but why? i— i don’t get it?”

his eyes finally met yours as you watched the fight leave him—the months of distance, of avoidance. the long period of carefully constructed walls cracking one by

“you were never supposed to become…” his voice failed, shaking his head. “christ—“ his hand covered his mouth briefly as he tried to gather himself.

you stared at him, analysing his face as you await for an answer that was really taking its time to come. every nerve in your body screamed that the answer was right there—just out of reach.

“you’re my best friend’s daughter,” he said finally, the simple sentence making your stomach drop.

michael laughed again, bitter and exhausted—nothing was funny, he just was starting to find the whole altercation almost pathetic as the thought what to say next.

“and if that wasn’t already complicated enough,” he continued, his voice somewhat growing hoarse.

confusion flickered through you, trying your best to understand what he was getting at from the lack of information he was providing. “michael—”

“no,” he interrupted, look at you sternly while pointing at the floor between you. “no, because if i stop now i’ll never say it,” he protested, the words coming faster than usual like they’d been trapped too long.

“i practically watched you grow up,” his voice trembled despite his efforts to steady it, an almost disgusted face twisting across his face. “i was supposed to look out for you. protect you. be the responsible one.”

your breathing had gone shallow as he went on, fiddling with the hem of the shirt michael put over you earlier.

michael never failed to notice when you started losing composure, especially after all the time he’d spent analysing your every movement in the living room.

still, he continued, swallowing hard before speaking. “then somewhere along the way it stopped feeling simple.”

his eyes began to glaze over, trying his best to harshly blink it away only to cause a stray droplet to fall which he was eager to wipe it away before you noticed—but you did.

“i started looking forward to seeing you, ‘n missing you when you weren’t around.” he paused for a short period, his voice lacking its usual spark. “and…” he paused yet again, burying his face with his hands. “fuck— i hated myself for it.”

the confession seemed to tear itself from his chest, his bottom lip jutted out slightly as his own words echoed through his brain.

“hated every second of it,” he stared intensely at the floor in between the two of you, so lost in thought you would’ve though he was dissociating.

abruptly, his entire demeanour shifted in a half-second, his jaw clenching as his eyes flashed with anger. but there was something wounded beneath them. “so don’t stand there ‘n tell me i left because i didn’t care,” his voice wavering for a second before hardening again. “if anything, i left because i cared too much.”

his words landed like a physical blow, neither of you moving as the honesty of his words settled.

michael looked devastated—completely devastated.

“as long as i stayed,” he whispered, “it was only going to get worse,” his breathing hitching between the sentences, trying his best to force the words out.

your face twitched, your bottom lip beginning to tremble as you looked at him in complete shock and hurt. “you should’ve told me,” your voice slightly cracking at the end.

his expression crumpled, eyes still fixed on the floor in fear that if he was to look at you he’d entirely fall apart before you. his eyebrows slightly drew together before nodding once. “i know.”

“you should’ve trusted me enough to tell me.”

“i know.”

“you made that decision for both of us. that wasn’t fair on me, michael,” you pouted, shoulders sagging as the weight of his words settled on them.

michael peered up at the ceiling, looking up to stop the tears he knew were inevitably going to fall anyways. “i know,” he repeated again, this time his voice cracking. “god, i know.”

every answer sounded like another grain of salt in the wound. michael refused to look at you, looking literally anywhere in the room that’d mean he didn’t have to see the look on your face—not necessarily because he didn’t want to or didn’t care, but because he knew he’d break in instant when he did.

when he finally lowered his head again, his eyes red as they finally found yours after what felt like years. “if telling you would’ve changed something,” he spoke quietly, the words coming out slowly and heavily, “i would’ve told you the day i left.”

your stared at him for a moment too long, taking a small step back as if his words physically struck you. looking down at the floor, allowing his admission to repeat on loop in your head to make sure you heard him correctly you look back up, now forgetting how hurt you were originally and now left angry. “then why tell me now?”

michael looked at you for a long moment, his eyes scanning the visible anger in your face, nearly physically flinching by the sheer emotion your face held alone.

he opened him mouth for a moment, ready to speak until you interrupted him quickly, the exasperation pulsing through your veins getting the best of you. “have you any fucking idea how exhausting it all was?” you remarked, eyebrows furrowed as your hands started shaking slightly beside you as adrenaline pumped through you.

michael just stared at you, his eyes scanning you as his breathing gradually became heavier, breaking more at every word you spat out to him—because he knew the truth, he knew you were hurt, and the guilt that filled him for it nearly made him nauseous.

“watching you move on, seeing you with shannon. smiling, being happy?” you chest heaved as you spoke, a small involuntary sob leaving your lips before continuing again. “and the entire time i had to be normal about it. fuck did i try,” you admitted, momentarily hide thou face behind your hands in embarrassment of allowing him to see you so distraught—distraught about him.

“i tried so hard, and then you’d look at my boyfriend like he was personally offending through his existence,” you let out a sound between another sob and a sarcastic laugh.

michael was quick to look away again, his eyes darting to one of the windows at the side of the room only to look at the aggressive rain still slamming onto the concrete below in the darkness outside.

“there,” you jabbed a finger at him, a large shaky breath escaping you, your shoulders shaking. “that. that look,” your voice breaking, jaw clenched whilst your eyes searched vigorously for an explanation for his behaviour. “you don’t get to act confused, because i know damn well you know exactly what i’m talking about, michael.”

michael fleetingly opened his mouth to say something but you quickly stopped him, pointing you finger at him again, chest shaking with each breath you drew. “no—“ your voice broke, kissing your teeth before starting again. “no, because i saw it. every time he talked about us. every time he mentioned moving in together, you’d get that fucking look on your face like you were trying so hard not to react.”

michael stood motionless, he didn’t bother to respond, because he knew you were right. he did hate when he saw your boyfriend, and when he’d talk about yous starting a life together. because michael wanted it to be him—he wanted it so bad. and yet he knew he couldn’t, there was too much in the way that it just seemed completely out of reach, and with that he was okay with just watching from afar and yearn for what it all could’ve been—could’ve been with him.

michael’s jaw flexed so hard you could visibly see the tight muscle that jumped beneath his skin. tears collectively gathered in his eyes, the obvious shimmer from them reflected in the moonlight spilling in from the windows surrounding yous.

for a split second, you thought he’d argue and he’d tell you that you’d imagined it—that you’d gotten it wrong. but instead, he laughed, and nothing was funny. it was the kind of laugh people made when they were seconds away from losing their minds.

“what, you think i wanted that?” he asked, his eyes widening briefly as he looked at you like he thought you were insane.

the anger drained from your face, your mouth parting with no words following afterward.

michael shook his head with a scowl, looking away to the ceiling like he expected cameras to be around the room like this was all for a sick joke show. “you think i enjoyed standing there listening to him talk about you?” his words beginning to sound more exhausted than angry now, his quieting unexpectedly. “he’d talk about your future like it was already decided. acting like… like you were his,” he complained as his shoulders shook slightly, his face breaking into an expression that faded too quickly to make a conclusion on.

his nostrils flared with every shaky breath he dragged in, swallowing hard before continuing again. “shit, and every single time, i had to sit there and pretend i was happy for you.”

his eyes finally met yours, glistening in the wet puddles of unshed tears. the corners of his mouth trembled helplessly, before his voice rose in volume slightly. “do you have any idea what that was like? watching you choose someone else every day?”

your breath caught in your throat, off-guard from the emotional admission that spilled from his mouth. you scan his face frantically, met with a look of quiet devastation settling over his usually soft features.

michael took a step forward as his hands shook at his sides before clenching the, into tight fists, his fingernails leaving crescent dents in his palm. “watching you laugh with him on the other side of the room…”

another step.

“watching him put his hands on you.”

another.

“and knowing i couldn’t say a damn thing because you were happy.”

the final words hit like a slap in the face—there was no jealousy left in them now, only raw hurt being expressed.

michael let out a shaky breath and looked at the floor, his jaw trembling once before locking, his expression tightening with desperate control. “i hated him,” he mumbled under his breath, the confession landing heavily between you. “i hated every conversation. every picture. every time he mentioned moving in together or your future,” his humourless chuckle broke apart, bitting hard on his lower lip as he diverted his gaze to the floor briefly. “god, i hated myself for it,” he shook his head, rubbing his forehead before drawing in a deep, shaky breath.

a heavy, emotional silence followed the confession. then, quieter he spoke, “‘cause he wasn’t doing anything wrong.” he eyes squeezed shut, his eyelashes evidently dampened with tears. “he just got there first.”

the words knocked the air from your lungs, your eyes widening at the sound of his words before michael looked at you again—he was completely exposed now, no walls left to hide behind.

the silence didn’t leave for a while, it sat there heavy and suffocating like the room had forgotten how to breathe with the two of you staring help;essay at each other.

your eyes stayed on him, searching for something, anything, that made this make sense, but there was nothing left to hide behind anymore.

michael didn’t move at first, just standing there like saying that had cost him everything he had left in his body, the echo of his heartbeat echoing unapologetically in his ears.

the silence broke through a small, shaky breath you let out, like your system couldn’t hold it in anymore. you swallow harshly, pain flashing across your face before anger grew to replace it. “you don’t get to do that,” you whispered, your bottom lip involuntarily jutting out as you tried not to burst into tears again, shaking your head. but as angry as you felt, your voice sounded nothing but wrecked.

michael’s jaw flexed once, like he was holding himself together by force alone. “do what?” he asked, but it wasn’t defensive, only quiet for an answer.

you let out a laugh but came out all wrong—sharp and broken halfway. “act that you were the only one who felt anything,” dropping for a second as you tried to find what to say next before snapping back up—red and raw. “acting as if— like i wasn’t right there the whole time as well, having to watch you and her and feeling the exact same.”

michael’s expression flickered, something like pain crossing over guilt. he soon stepped closer, slowly this time as if he was scared you’d disappear or run if he moved too fast. “i didn’t know you felt it,” he admitted, barely audible causing you to shake your head once, small and angry.

he really didn’t know?—is he stupid?—all you’ve felt for the past year was seething jealousy for her, surely he would’ve caught on.

“well, i did,” you swallow, looking down at your hands as you closed them together awkwardly.

the silence after was different, everything feeling charged and too much—too much eye contact, too much history sitting between both of you, too many vulnerable confessions.

michael exhaled loudly, like he was giving up. “i tried,” he said, voice breaking on the edge of it. “i tried so hard not to—” he started before stopped again, the words becoming caught in his throat as if the rest of the sentence was too dangerous to say out loud.

he let out a high-pitched grunt, one you would’ve though to hear from toddler as he rubbed one of his eyes roughly. “i tried so, so hard not to think about…” he paused as he tried to think out his words. “to think about it. about you. everything.”

you wrapped one arm around your stomach unconsciously, like holding yourself together was suddenly becoming a full-time job. “you don’t get to say that now,” you whispered to him with a scowl, but your words didn’t have any bite to them anymore. your eyes glistened with tears while your glare remained stubbornly intact on michael who looked like he wanted to dig himself into to his grave already.

michael stepped closer again with no rushed pace, like he was waiting for permission he didn’t deserve to ask for, so close now you could almost feel the warmth of his breath from his nose on your face. “look. i know, okay?” he admitted, the confession coming out unevenly, interrupted by breaths that refused to cooperate. “…but i can’t pretend i didn’t,” his gaze drifting away repeatedly, unable to withstand the raw emotion evident in your eyes for more than a few seconds.

your breath caught as your mouth parted slightly, but no words came, emotion clogging your throat before you could speak. the whole was the moment everything stopped feeling like an argument, everything now becoming a string of honest confessions you both had been keeping quiet for far too long.

michael’s hands were shaking uselessly at his sides again, like he didn’t know what to do with them before curling into fists hard enough to ache. “i hated him,” he admitted, quieter now. “i hated how easy it all looked for him, having you wrapped around his finger ‘n not realising how lucky he was,” he grieved, the corners of his mouth twitched downward despite every effort to keep his composure intact. “and i hated myself more for feeling like that. really hated myself.”

“that’s no fair. you’re just selfish, michael,” your voice breaks, face crumpled around the edges, a mixture of heartbreak and anger you’d been clinging to moments earlier. unconsciously, you took a step backwards, the weight of his admission hitting with enough force to physically move you. “that wasn’t fair on me, you never thought about anyone else in this situation than yourself.”

pain flashed visibly across his face, sharp and immediate, before he could try to hide it, his expression twisting around emotions he couldn’t untangle from one another.

“i tried my hardest to—“ you began, your lower lip trembling no matter how hard you tried to control it before michael was quick to interrupt you.

“i loved you, y/n, okay?” he burst out, his eyes widening at his own words, shock flashing across both of your faces as yous processed it. still, michael continued, realising he’s too far gone now to stop. he let out a singular pathetic laugh, his eyes darting around the room like it’s give him answers on how to get out of the situation he’s now put himself in.

“christ, do you know how much easier this would’ve been if i didn’t?” he squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose before dropping back to his side with an echoing ‘whack’. “i spent months trying to get over you. i told myself that it’s for the best ‘n look how well that worked out for us, huh?”

your expression remained frozen for several seconds, unable to process the confession you’d spent months wishing for until it softened involuntarily, years of walls beginning to crack under the weight of his honesty. for a moment, all you could do was stare, your eyes searching michael’s face frantically, looking for any sign that you’d misunderstood him.

and there michael stood before you looking completely stripped bare, his confession hanging heavily between you—no sarcasm or deflection.

something deep in your chest cracked—after the months of confusion, jealousy, wondering and hoping, it all made horribly perfect sense.

a shaky laugh escaped unexpectedly, watery and broken beneath the pressure of tears. obviously you found nothing about this funny. but you genuinely didn’t know what else to do.

“michael…” you said sounding breathless, as though his confession had stolen the air from your lungs. his name came out almost broken as it left you. you shook your head, smiling through tears that refused to stay. “you’re such an idiot,” you laughed pathetically through the endless stream of tears now mercilessly flowing down your cheeks like a stream.

michael lets out a breath that sounds suspiciously close to a laugh, his shoulders shaking with both laughter and tears at his vulnerability. “yeah,” he nods. “massive idiot.”

a second laugh escapes you, a dull ache settling in your chest as you replayed those three words in your head, “i loved you.” the words lodged itself somewhere deep inside your chest and refused to move—you’d spent months imagining what this moment would feel like. late nights lying awake, stolen glances, conversations and brief moments replayed a hundred different ways, and somehow none of those versions had prepared you for the reality of it.

michael appeared completely wrecked infront of you. his wet cheeks and the tip of his nose slightly blushed matching the faint colour of his sclera and hair still frizzed from sleep. his breathing came out uneven, his shoulders shaking with each messily drawn breath while he expression was met somewhere between complete terror if his own words and relief.

another laugh erupted out of you yet again, flying a hand to your mouth to try suppress it. absolutely nothing about this was something you wanted to laugh about, if anything you were completely pissed—pissed that he had the audacity to hurt you and leave you stranded for months with his excuse being ‘i loved you’.

he stared at you in disbelief at your reaction, wiping his tears with furrowed eyebrows, studying your body language on why you found this so hilarious to which made to laugh even more. this one tangled with something suspiciously close to a sob as tears blurred your vision, shaking your head, unable to stop smiling despite the tears now sliding freely down your cheeks.

what else were you supposed to do?

cry? you were already doing that.

scream? tempting.

months, four specifically, that you’d both spent months suffering alone in your own ways, both convincing yourselves the other didn’t feel the same. months pretending and unnecessarily hurting for no reason. the sheer stupidity of it all hit you all at once as a watery laugh slipped through your tears.

however, your pathetic laughs soon morphed into sobs, growing loud as each tore itself from your chest. you quickly bury your face in your hands in an attempt to hide yourself from michael who stood frozen in shock for a moment at the complexity of your response before rushing to pull you into his arms.

“shhh, you’re okay, sweet girl,” he whispered into your head, holding your trembling body firmly in his arms.

your forehead pressed against his chest as sobs continued to tear through you, each one seeming to drag months of hurt out with it, the sound breaking something inside him. “hey, hey,” he murmured softly, settling one hand against the back of your head while the other rubbed slow circles between your shoulder blades. “you ain’t gotta hide from me,” he comforted, his voice sounding rough, thicker than usual as though he was struggling to keep himself together too.

carefully, he guided your hands away from your face without any force, just patience and waiting to see you.

as you pulled back eyes were red, cheeks damp and any remnants from the mascara and makeup you wore earlier now completely washed off. somehow michael thought he’d never seen anything more heartbreaking.

“oh, sweetheart,” the words leaving him in a breath, the corners of his mouth frowning despite himself. “so much of this was my fault.”

you shook your head immediately, looking up at him teary eyed, michael giving a sad smile in return. “maybe not all of it,” he murmured, his rough thumb brushing gently beneath your eye, catching another tear before it could fall. “but i should’ve said something,” his jaw tightened briefly before continuing again, “a long time ago.”

the confession hung between you, no longer sharp or angry, only a quiet remnant of sadness that comes from realizing how much time was lost. michael’s gaze moved across your face slowly, like he was still struggling to believe this was real—that you were here. that you knew and neither of you had to pretend anymore.

his forehead rested lightly against yours, his minty breath against your skin. the moment filled with a warm, fragile silence as you both stood in the middle of michael’s bedroom in each others embrace.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, the words cracking as you felt his chest rise and fall against yours weakly. “so damn sorry,” he sniffled when a fresh tear slipped free from your eye again.

michael’s expression immediately softened, his eyes knitted in concern, his chest feeling tight at the view of you crying in his arms. “no, no,” he mumbled, thumb brushed your cheek again. “none of that right now, angel.” a small smile tugged weakly at the corner of his mouth as you gazed up at him with those tearful puppy eyes, a trembling pout framed on your bottom lip. “t’night we don’t think about everything we got wrong,” his voice dropped quieter while he delicately tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, allowing his touch to linger on the side of your face slightly. “we’ve spent enough time hurting ourselves over it, yea?”

you let out a shaky breath, swallowing hard when michael’s searched yours carefully like he was giving you every opportunity to pull away. when you didn’t, something in his expression softened completely, the years of tension finally loosening.

his hand cupped your cheek carefully, the steady warmth of his skin on yours allowing your body to relax, any remaining tension trickling away simultaneously.

“there she is,” he murmured with a faint smile—both tired and relieved. “that’s my girl,” his words not possessive, only spoken with all the tenderness he’d spent months keeping to himself.

you both stay still in each others comforts, neither of you eager to move. your foreheads touched, sharing the same air. the same fragile relief of the night. slowly—almost nervously—michael began to lean forward, millimeter by millimeter, giving you every chance to stop him and pull away.

he soon caught on that you weren’t planning on moving away any time soon, to which you’re met with the delicate feeling of michael’s lips on yours, the gesture so gentle and light you could barely feel it initially.

relief settled snug between the two of you, the kind that settled deep in your chest and made everything else fade for a moment. when he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours again,a quiet laugh escaped him—disbelieving.

“god, you’ve no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that, babygirl,” he purred, so close to you now that your lips grazed briefly as he talked.

michael pulled you back in again with a hand on the back of your neck, his large hand grabbing a handful of hair. this time the kiss wasn’t so careful—now months of swallowed jealousy, unfinished sentences, and things neither of you said when you should have.

he made a sound against your mouth—something between relief, need, and pain—then he pulled you in further desperately, like he’d been holding back for years just to survive this moment. you both could physically feel each other tremble as you grabbed his face in both your hands, the two of you heavy with emotional build up now finally being released.

michael soon backed away from the kiss as he looked down at you, his bottom lip jutting out once before biting hard down in it. “i tried so hard. i tried to be good, to leave you alone and do the right thing thing. i can’t. i can’t do it. no matter how hard i tried everything kept going back to you,” he disclosed so quietly the only reason you heard him was because your faces were only an inch apart.

“good,” was all you could say before michael mashed his mouth onto yours so roughly you let out an involuntary gasp, gathering yourself, then matching his rhythm almost immediately. he was kissing you as if your mouth was the only source of air in the world, trying to erase the past years of want and yearning away in this one moment.

you felt michael’s hand start wandering up from down your spine, causing you to involuntarily arch into him slightly, to your thighs, picking you up in one swift movement as he made his way over to the bed, mouths still attached. as he did so, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp at the unexpected movement, him leaving no time to slip his tongue into your mouth.

even in the state michael was in right now, you still couldn’t find him incredibly sexy. the way even in the heated moment, his touch was still gentle and delicate with you.

he placed you on the edge of the bed, you getting the memo to crawl to the middle of it, him following closely behind you now in the middle of your legs before reattaching his mouth with yours with a shit-eating grin.

his hands started roaming you body, allowing them to make their way under the large shirt he threw over you previously, his feather-like touch leaving you giggling. “mike, stop that. it tickles,” you protest, slapping his hands lightly which earned a low laugh from him.

“‘m sorry, baby. jus’ gotta feel you…” he responded with a hoarse quietness. his hands travelled further up the sides of your waist before reaching your breasts, erupting a soft inhale from you in response.

michael’s gaze darted up to your face, the way yours eyebrows furrowed driving his crazy. “tell me to stop ‘n i will, yea?” he spoke with a hushed tone, looking back and forth between your eyes until you hummed in response.

before long all you could feel was the cold air of the bedroom on your bare skin and the wet feeling of michael’s tongue against your aching pussy. “so pretty, baby,” he breathed out shakily, placing a kiss on your clit followed by a flat lick across your cunt before moving down to stick the tip of his tongue inside.

your hips jutted downwards onto his face at the sudden sensation, a sharp whine leaving you. “michael—“ you start before he moves up to your face, interrupting you with a sloppy kiss, the faint taste of yourself evident on his tongue. “shhh, babygirl. jus’ enjoy it. let me make you feel good.”

he shifted himself back down again, grabbing the chub of your upper thighs in his hands when he moved to circle his tongue around your clit, applying a particular gentle pressure that left your legs twitching and hips buckling in his face.

“sure he never made you feel this good, huh?” he smirked as he glanced up to meet a face of almost pure ecstasy above him. you eagerly shake your ‘no’ before vigorously grabbing the back of his head and pushing him back onto your dribbling pussy, a mixture of your arousal and his own saliva awaiting him.

michael’s licks and sucks grow rougher as time went on, resulting in your legs beginning to shake on either side of his head as he lowers his tongue back onto you clit and nipping it gently with his teeth causing you to squeal.

“mich— michael— oh, fuck,” you whine, tears beginning to brim in your eyes at the pleasure.

“yeah, that’s it dolly,” he coaxes, grinding himself into the bed unconsciously as he gradually watched you come undone before him.

soon enough the coil snaps as you arch your back into the air, your core spasming infront of him.

“atta girl, there y’go,” he urges, the sound you’re making sounding better than any song he’d heard in all his skilful years of experience.

you relax heavily into the bed, staring up lost at the ceiling as you came down from the high. your chest rose and fell before sitting upright to look at michael again to be met with him already staring at you with a much different one than earlier.

“you okay?” he asks, his eyes studying your face as he waited for a response. you shut your eyes momentarily before nodding with a small, tired smile. the sight of michael infront of you, face glistening in what only could be your own juices got you riled up again, practically leaping forward to crush his lips onto yours to which he instantaneously obliged to.

his brought his sizeable hand onto the side of your face before lowering himself down onto of you, his mouth moving skilfully with yours, locking into place like lost puzzle pieces.

absentmindedly, michael started grinding his hips onto your bare pussy, the remnants of your arousal coating the fabric of his trousers. “michael…” you whisper, your word coming out in a slight tremble that made him pull back briefly as he watched your face.

“what’s the matter, mama?” he queried, worry coating his voice. “did i go too far?”

you shake your head immediately before answering. “no—god, no—it’s just… i’ve never—“ you didn’t need to say anything more before michael got the memo, his eyes widening a little.

“oh,” was all he could muster at first before swallowing. “do you wanna stop?”

“no— no. please no,” you beg, pulling him closer by gripping onto his shirt. “i just… don’t know what to expect,” you whisper, almost embarrassed you’ve gone this long without sex, looking away to the side of the room.

michael lay there hovering on top of you for a second, his forearms resting on either side of your head before bringing a hand to gently stroke the side of your face. “i’ll be gentle, ‘kay baby? don’t wanna hurt you… tell me if it’s hurting or you wanna stop. you can do that f’me, right?”

you hesitated, staring at the ceiling for a moment, your hands twisted nervously at the sheets underneath you.

obviously you wanted this, fuck you’ve been waiting years for this to happen, but deep down that inner-virgin and ‘innocence’ inside of you is screaming at you to run and hide. you knew it was going to hurt, your friends telling you about their sex lives at girl dinners informed you enough of it.

“i— i think…” you began, swallowing hard before nodding profusely. “yeah. okay,” your voice barely above a whisper, but there was a small spark of determination behind it. yeah, you was nervous, maybe a little frightened, yet but you knew this was something you wanted to do—and if anyone was to take it, you’d gladly have it be michael.

“baby, we ain’t gotta do it if you’re not ready,” he reassured, his voice gentle as he soothed your worries.

“please, michael,” you almost beg, gazing up at him with want need in your eyes. “i want this, i want this with you.”

michael nodded once, placing a soft peck on your lips before moving back to remove his garments one by one, soon enough leaving you both bare infront of each other, the cool, crisp air in the room dancing over yous.

he carefully guided himself to your, now sopping, entrance, his eyes scrutinising your features for any indication you wanted to back out.

sensing his concern you give him a small nod of approval with a timid smile, your eyebrows creasing together nervously.

“don’t be scared, angel. won’t go rough on you, yeah? i’ll keep my promise,” he muttered before beginning to push himself forward agonisingly slow.

the utter tightness of your pussy already wrapping around his tip startled a sharp inhale followed by a shaky exhale. “baby, shit… so fuckin’ tight f’me…” he growls, his face jaw clenching as he tried to restrain himself from just pounding into you altogether.

on the other hand, you whined at the overwhelming feel of his girth, mind you you’ve not even gone past an inch yet, the uncomfortable pain of being stretched leaving you wincing.

michael was quick to notice as his eyes stay glued to your face the whole time. “i know, baby—mmgh—i know. but you can take more, know y’can,” he sighed, his breath hot against the side of your face.

michael continued to push slower, whines and whimpers shared between you two. “you’re doing so good, doll. so fuckin’ good, ‘m so proud,” he mewled as his face contorted in pleasure.

“oh, god— michael,” you whine, back arching into his bare chest, the shared warmth from your skin sizzling through your body.

“i’ve got you, girl,” he panted, the sensation of your spongy walls suffocating his length leaving him feeling overwhelmed with satisfaction and he hadn’t even started moving yet. “you’re so close, i know you can take the rest…” his voice slightly shaking as he pushed in even further, erupting an involuntary squeal from you as your hands latch onto his shoulders roughly.

“there’s a good girl, soo good f’me,” michael muttered, his hand moving from your cheek down to your hip as he finally bottomed out, resulting in a substantial sigh leaving his lungs as he finally felt the skin from your hips meeting together.

“there y’go, princess. that wasn’t so bad, huh?” he coaxed, a small smirk growing on his face despite himself as he saw the absolute wreck of you beneath him—hair frizzy from rolling around the sheets, eyes welling up, lips still swollen from the stolen kisses. “god, you’re perfect.”

michael’s breath fanned hot against the side of your neck as he slowly began dragging himself in and out of you, each stroke deep and intentional as you felt each inch stretching and manoeuvring within your walls.

your grip on michael’s shoulders tightened, your nails digging into his skin enough to make his face visibly flinch, his mouth briefly ajar.

“m— michael…” you moan breathily, the initial pain from the stretch slowly now disappearing as he grinds into you, careful not to be overly harsh as much as he tried to help himself.

michael leaned down to lock your lips again, his lips proceeding softly, enveloped with yours as he lead the way with experienced precision. his hand reached up to stroke his thumb against your cheekbone as he pressed a little harder against your lips, deepening the kiss to which you couldn’t help the insignificant moans that broke free, coming out as pathetic whimpers as he swallowed them from you.

in the middle of a whine, he darted his tongue out, wasting no time to dance his tongue against yours, tasting every part of you with desperation.

“fuck you taste so good, sweet girl… can’t believe i’ve went without this f’so long,” he groaned, grinding his hips against you as his eagerness persisted.

as much as his gentleness flattered you, doing his best to make sure you weren’t in pain or straining uncomfortably as he pulled himself in and out of you, you couldn’t help but feel a strong desire for more.

“please, mike. need—nmffh—more,” you gasped, peering at him with visible need written all over you.

“are you— are you sure?” he reassured with knitted eyebrows, browsing your face for answers.

as soon as you gave him that lazy nod of approval his demeanor completely shifted from the initial softness and care to lust filled and rough. his hips pulled back far, almost slipping out of you completely, before pushing back in, somehow hitting even deeper than before.

you gasped out, all previous nerves and tension leaving your body as you screamed out in pleasure, latching onto his forearms for support. his hips rolled into yours in smooth movement, your clit slamming sensitive on his pelvis with every thrust which only drives you further.

“fuck! oh my go—“ you squawk, barely able to get your words out as your voice caught in your throat at the sheer thrill of satisfaction coursing through you.

“michael, michael! holy shit, wait—“ you moaned loudly, almost sounding like a sob as he drove into you with such force the bounce of your saliva-soaked (michael’s) breasts almost hurt.

“nuh-uh, baby. you wanted this, remember? gotta stick to your word,” he grunts as he continued to pound into you.

michael was swift with his movements as he roughly rolled into your sticky pussy. before you could even get out another moan, your legs were tossed over his shoulders, either side of his head, now somehow even deeper in you. your eyes to the back of your before you couldn’t stop your hips from bucking up to meet his thrusts needily.

he grinned at the sight, stick his tongue into his cheek as he watched you gradually lose yourself on him. “told you, ma. knew you wanted it—mmgh—jus’ love this dick inside of ya, eh?” he cooed teasingly, getting off on the lude sight of you beneath him.

“you’re so perfect, sucking me in so needy, baby,” he bit down his lower lip, his eyes intense on you.

you nodded frantically, babbling something incoherent in a pathetic attempt of saying ‘yes’.

he cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side as he peered down at you, his hair falling over your face with a ticklish sensation. “tell me doll, how long’ve you wanted me to fuck you like this, huh? know you wanted it,” he queried, his words almost lost in the sounds of your merciless moans in the room.

“so fuckin, l-long—nnmgh—mike, nearly every night,” you choked out, scratching your nails into his shoulders earning a hiss from him.

“even when you were with him?”

“especially,” was all you could get out before michael hammered in you with such brutal force it was knocking out pathetic guttural sounds from your chest with each blow.

the initial gentleness and care initially put into the moment was now long forgotten about, the pure forms of pleasure filling both of your senses making yous forget everything but the current feeling of you bodies ruthlessly connecting.

he pressed his lips to yours, mumbling against your lips, “so fuckin’ naughty,” sloppy kisses with the sound of your saliva coated lips smacking against eachothers, “dirty lil thing, aren’t ya?”

the disgusting sounds of your skin slapping filled the room without apologies, making you silently thank the lord for the fact he lived alone.

it wasn’t long before that familiar feeling from earlier started bubbling in your core once again, clenching momentarily causing michael to produce a long groan into the crook of your neck. “careful baby, you’re ruinin’ me here,” he laughed, his chest vibrating against yours.

“p-please, i feel it,” you beg, your hips ruthlessly moving with his as you tried chasing the climax you were silently begging for.

“feel what, mama? c’mon, use those pretty words,” he cooed, running his thumb on your bottom lip, gathering the remnants of saliva and sucking it off in his mouth.

the sight before you almost made you cum alone, but you still managed to croak out, “i’m gonna cum, mike.”

“i know, baby. i know. ‘m feelin’ it too,” he grumbled, his thrusts growing sloppier yet still not failing to hit deep inside of you.

with that, michael reached down to rub small, delicate circles skilfully at your clit, pushing you over the edge as you clenched down on his cock. “yea, that’s it babygirl. come ‘n get it.”

your orgasm hit you impossibly hard, you never knew an orgasm could be this intense as all your senses seemed to fade except for the overwhelming feeling at your core. your thighs clamped shut around his neck as you screamed out from pleasure, your pretty pussy fluttered around his dick as sobs filled the air, some stray tears falling down onto the pillow under your head.

“good job, baby. did so fuckin, good—christ—just hol’ on f’me, i’m nearly there,” he panted, the drags of his hips growing sloppier and sloppier until he pauses completely, a pathetic sound spill out of him as you felt continuous pulses of his hot seed.

michael was unapologetically loud when he came, strings of whimpers and moans leaving him as he lumped each spurt into you. his breath soon shook as his dick twitched inside of you, dribbling out a few last drops before pulling of your completely, a sticky combination of both of your cum drooling out of your pussy to which michael almost came again to the sight.

it took you a hot minute to even get your mind working again, your whole view going blurry as it felt like your body was fuzzy. michael, of course, regained himself faster to take care of you.

“you did so good pretty girl, d’you like that?” he purred as he grabbed a couple tissues from his nightstand to clean up the dirty spillage leaking out of your wrecked cunt.

you hadn’t budged yet, eyes continued to be glued to the ceiling as your mouth briefly parted to respond, but you managed to give him a small nod, a little sign of life as you tried to recoup yourself from the euphoric situation you just had yourself in.

he giggled at how fucked out you were above him until he pulled you up and onto his lap, letting you rest your head on his chest. “‘m so proud of you, i know it must’ve been scary,” he whispered, tucking some sweaty strands of hair behind you ear in a fragile motion.

you shook your head, looking up at him. “you made me feel better,” a small smile meeting both your lips, both leaning in for another kiss—this one more gentle and passionate as relief streamed in yous.

no more hiding, no more secrets.

𝔀𝓬 1900+, fluff only! please tell me what y'all think about this! 　　　　　　　　　𝓸ne　　𝓽wo　　𝓽hree

hayvenhurst, encino, ca — september 1972

before you knew it, it was already the last days of summer.

you didn’t think it was possible, but you had somehow grown impossibly closer to michael. the late night conversations, the bike rides and every little thing in between. you liked spending time with him a lot.  and two summers with him made you realize that somewhere along the way, michael had become your favourite person.

your person.

indie and jackie stayed inseparable, and it wasn’t hard to see that they were truly in love. 

speaking of, the two of them were cuddled up under a tree, once again lost in their own world. tara and marlon were actively trying to push jermaine into the water fountain while tito was deep under the hood of his car, tinkering with its engine.

you and michael sat on the porch steps as he tried to teach you how to spin a basketball on your finger. the basketball rolled away from you for the tenth time, and michael chased after it, determined to teach you. he was always patient with you, only laughing affectionately when you still seemed to not grasp it. he returned with the ball and a grin, turning his attention to the water fountain for a split second.

　　﹕   (✿˘͈ᵕ˘͈)   ┈  neapolitan prince syndrome.

　　┊   ♡   ﹒ thrad era! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

　　┊   ♡   ﹒ summary : michael’s feeling a bit insecure because his vitiligo is starting to affect his private parts and it’s making you spiral because you haven’t gotten dick in months so you think you’re the problem. fortunately for him? you think his dick is still pretty and you’re still going to slobber on it and show him a REAL thriller night.

　　┊   ♡   ﹒ byi : smut 🔞, michael’s vitiligo is the main point of “conflict”, oral sex (male receiving), shy michael, reader is high strung and a little ditzy (bimbo), a little bit of angst if you squint. some self esteem issues. had fun writing this!

The first few times, you didn’t think much of it.

Michael was busy and exhausted, that was expected. Michael had always carried the entertainment industry on his back, and it wasn’t unusual for work to follow him home. So, when he rolled over with an apologetic smile or distracted you with a kiss against your forehead before things could go any further, you accepted it without question.

Then weeks became months.

The affection never disappeared. If anything, it seemed to increase. Michael still reached for your hand in public. Still pulled you against him on the couch. Still buried his face in your neck when he came home after long days. He still looked at you with love so obvious that you could see tiny little hearts in his pupils. Yet somewhere along the way, a distance had developed between you. Not emotional distance but physical distance. You know.. sexually. Every time the relationship threatened to cross a certain.. threshold, he found a reason to retreat.

Michael took care of you in other ways though: his hands, his mouth, even his thigh but you couldn’t remember the last time he really fucked you. Or, actually maybe you could! It was about three months ago—you rode him at four in the morning before he had to get ready for an early morning flight out to attend an award show. But that’s not the point here! The point is, when he came back, things changed. And of course, you enjoyed the alternatives but there is truly nothing like feeling all six inches of his dick digging into you.

AN: I’m of the camp that Michael needed a fine, smart, Black girlfriend/wife who was mean to folks who tried him and I’m not even of the belief that women should save men etc. But Bambi eyes is the exception not the rule. Also yes Black it’s cause I’m Black lol.

So if you ever wonder about my characters, they are very bold, very funny and very assertive when it comes to protecting him/his peace.

Oh also smut at the end 😏 he thanks her for being so mean.

Chapter 9 — I’m Every Woman

The morning of their flight started perfectly.

Almost too perfectly.

Whitney’s “I’m Every Woman” filled the apartment as Camille danced from one side of the bedroom to the other, mouthing the lyrics at Michael while she packed. Sunlight poured through the windows, catching on half-zipped suitcases and scattered outfits across the floor.

Michael lounged across the bed in gray sweats, watching her with quiet amusement, like she was far more interesting than anything on television..

“Baby.”

“Mhm?” Camille didn’t look up from the suitcase.

“You packed thirty bikinis?”

She glanced over her shoulder, calm as ever. “And?”

“We’re only gone two weeks.”

“I like options.”

Michael laughed under his breath. “You planning fashion shows on the island?”

“Yes.” She leaned over and kissed him quickly. “And you’re my special guest.”

“Oh, in that case I’ll be front row.”

He smiled to himself as she kept moving around the room, her braids swinging behind her while she fussed over every little detail. He loved mornings like this. For the first time in months, he felt relaxed and unrushed.

Then his phone rang.

Michael sighed before he even looked at the screen.

Camille paused. “Who is it?”

His expression shifted. “Label.”

The peace in the room changed instantly, Camille paused the song so he could answer.

He answered, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Hello?”

Camille tried not to listen as she folded another outfit, but within seconds, tension crept into his voice.

“No, I’m literally leaving today.”

A pause.

Michael sat up straighter.

“I already had this time scheduled.”

Another pause.His jaw tightened.

Camille slowly looked over.

“They want me back in the studio,” he muttered, pulling the phone slightly from his ear.

“What?” Camille frowned.

Michael gave a short, humorless laugh before speaking into the phone again. “No. I’m not canceling my trip.”

The voice on the other end grew loud enough for Camille to hear the tone, even if she couldn’t make out every word.

Michael closed his eyes briefly. “They suddenly think I need another songwriting session,” he explained quietly.

Camille stared at him.

After months of recording, months of exhaustion. Now this?

“I’m tired, man,” Michael said into the phone, his patience thinning.

Something about hearing him admit it so plainly made Camille’s protective instincts flare.

She knew what happened when he got run down. He stopped sleeping. Stopped eating right. Disappeared into the work until there was barely anything left of him emotionally.

She crossed the room and held out her hand.

“Give me the phone.”

Michael blinked. “Baby—”

“Give me the phone.”

Something in her tone made him hand it over without arguing.

Camille took it smoothly. “Hi. This is Camille Matthews speaking.”

Silence.

“I’m going to make this very clear,” she said, pacing slowly now. “Michael is not canceling this vacation because the label suddenly developed anxiety about additional songwriting sessions.”

Someone tried to interrupt.

Camille spoke right over them, her voice calm but razor sharp. “No. You can listen for a second, because clearly nobody else in his corner has lately. That man has spent months exhausting himself for this project. He is mentally drained, physically drained, and if you push him harder right now, you’re going to damage both him and the album.”

Michael stared at her from the bed.

She was terrifying when she switched into PR mode.

“And frankly,” Camille continued, “forcing an artist to abandon a planned international trip after approving delivery is exactly the kind of inhumane industry behavior publications love writing exposés about.”

A pause.

Her smile went cold. “And trust me, I know exactly which reporters would love that story.”

Michael’s eyebrows lifted.

Oh, she was serious serious.

Camille kept pacing, voice controlled. “You know what artists have walked away from contracts over? Burnout. Exploitation. Public pressure.” She glanced at Michael, then looked away again. “And I would happily help Michael explain all of that publicly if necessary.”

The room went quiet except for the muffled scrambling on the other end.

Camille stopped near the window.

“No,” she said firmly. “You’re going to reschedule the sessions for after he returns. You’re going to let him take this vacation. And if there’s still concern afterward, everyone can revisit things with clear heads and rested ears in two weeks.”

Another pause.

Then, coolly, “Mhm. Thank you.”

She hung up.

Silence.

Michael stared at her from the edge of the bed, looking half stunned and half in love.

“Well, damn,” he murmured.

Camille handed the phone back. “They’ll contact you in two weeks about the additional sessions.”

Michael blinked. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

For a second, he only looked at her.

Then he stood and crossed the room in three quick steps, pulling her tight against him.

“Baby,” he breathed into her neck.

Camille laughed softly, hugging him back. “What?”

“You threatened the label.”

“They threatened your peace first.”

The sincerity of it hit him straight in the chest.

Michael pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands framing her face like she was something precious.

Nobody defended him like that. Not because they worked for him. Not because they needed him. Because they loved him.

And standing there with Camille in his arms, Michael felt something settle deep inside him with absolute certainty.

He was marrying this woman. Not someday.

Soon.

“You know I love you, right?” he said quietly.

Camille smiled. “I would hope so.”

Michael shook his head, overwhelmed. “No, baby. You don’t understand.”

The tenderness in his voice made her chest ache.

Then his expression shifted into something warmer, darker, more familiar.

Camille noticed immediately. “What?”

“I’m grateful.”

“That smile says otherwise.”

Michael’s hands slid along her waist. “You defended me. Threatened executives for me.” His voice dropped. “That deserves appreciation.”

Camille burst out laughing. “Oh my God.”

“I’m serious.”

“You are unbelievable.”

But she was still smiling when he kissed her.

Slow at first.

Lingering.

Then deeper.

Michael guided her gently back toward the bed, his hands warm and reverent against her body while Camille laughed breathlessly against his mouth.

“Michael,” she whispered, half amused. “We have a flight.”

“Mhm.”

“And packing.”

“Mhm.”

“And—”

He sank to his knees in front of her so suddenly she lost her train of thought.

His hands slid along the backs of her thighs while he looked up at her with devotion and dangerous intent all at once.

“Let me take care of my girl before vacation starts,” he murmured.

Camille stopped arguing immediately.

The teasing grin from moments ago softened into something tender as his thumbs brushed slow circles against her skin.

“You know how sexy you are when you get protective?”

He tugged her shorts and panties down in one smooth motion, revealing the slick heat he craved. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, then parted her folds with two fingers, drawing out a low moan.

"That’s it, let me hear you," he murmured, sliding his fingers in and out in slow, shallow strokes that made her thighs tremble but left her aching for more. Time was short, so he hooked his hands under her thighs and yanked her to the very edge of the bed before burying his face between her legs.

His tongue dragged along every wet fold, then flicked up to circle her swollen clit. She cried out his name, hips jerking. He pushed two fingers deeper while his mouth sucked and licked at the sensitive nub, driving her higher.

Her red-painted toes pointed toward the ceiling. One hand clutched a pillow and pressed it over her mouth to muffle the sounds. Between gasps she managed, "Should I be mean to people for you more often?"

He laughed against her dripping center and kept devouring her, adding a third finger. Her walls clenched hard around him; she came with a broken shout of his name, flooding his tongue as her whole body shook.

“Let’s get out of here baby.”

Taglist!!

Chapter 31 part 2 - Disco Inferno

She opened the door where Michael stood on the other side, dressed sharp and smelling faintly of cologne, his curls soft around his face, his smile already forming before he fully saw her. Once she came into his view fully, his eyes moved over her slowly, not crude or careless, but stunned in a way that made every second she’d spent getting ready worth it.

“Lena,” he said with a stunned look.

That was all, just her name. But the way he said it made her feel like music had already started’. She leaned against the doorframe, trying not to smile too hard.

“Is it too much?”

Michael blinked like the question offended him. “Too much?” He shook his head, still staring. “No. No, you look…” He exhaled, smiling helplessly. “You look gorgeous.”

She stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind her. “Well,” she said, taking his hand and giving him a soft kiss, “then let’s get going.”

In the elevator, Michael’s gaze kept catching on everything: the scarf in Lena’s hair, the deep red of her lips, the way the sequins shifted every time she moved. Lena pretended not to notice for exactly ten seconds before she finally laughed.

“You’re staring.”

“I’m admiring my girlfriend.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“No it ain’t. Staring is rude. Admiring is respectful.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it?”

“Yes,” he said with a sly smirk. “Respect.”

The elevator began to move, and he leaned back against the wall, still looking at her, softer this time.

“You really do look beautiful.”

Her smile turned shy. “Thank you.”

“And that dress…”

“Hmmm?”

“It looks amazing on you.”

Lena glanced down at herself, smoothing one hand lightly over the sequins. “Good. I was hoping it wasn’t too much.”

“Too much?” Michael shook his head immediately, reaching out to gently touch the edge of the scarf where it trailed near her shoulder. His fingers barely brushed the fabric, careful not to disturb anything before trailing down to hold her hand. “No. It’s perfect.”

The tenderness in his voice settled some of her nerves.

“You excited?”

“Yes.” She looked down at their joined hands. “Still a little nervous though.”

“About the club?”

“A little. About the people. About… I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Being seen with you.”

Michael’s expression softened with recognition. “We don’t gotta do anything you don’t wanna do.”

“I know.”

“And we can leave whenever you want.”

“I know that too.”

“I mean it, Lena.”

She looked up at him then, hearing the seriousness underneath his voice.

“I know you do,” she said quietly. “But I wanna go. I wanna dance with you and kiss you and just be.”

His smile returned slowly. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” She squeezed his hand. “Tonight, I don’t wanna overthink it.”

Bill was waiting near the front entrance, already holding the back door open when they stepped outside. The summer night wrapped around them immediately, warm and thick, carrying the smell of pavement, perfume, car exhaust, and somebody’s late dinner drifting from a nearby restaurant. New York glittered around them like it had dressed up too.

Bill smiled when he saw her. “Well now. Don’t you look ready for Studio 54.”

“Thank you, Bill.”

Michael helped her into the car, his hand careful at her waist as she gathered the hem of her dress and slid inside. Once he settled beside her, Lena leaned close enough for their shoulders to touch.

“You smell good,” she said, kissing just under his jawline. 

His grin spread before he could stop it.

The car pulled away from the curb, easing into traffic as the city opened around them. Lights smeared gold across the windows. Couples moved along the sidewalks. Cabs rushed past in flashes of yellow. Somewhere outside, music thumped from an open doorway, then disappeared as they turned the corner.

Lena watched the city slide past for a while, the lights streaking softly across the window, before she noticed Michael’s fingers slipping between hers.

She looked down at their hands, then up at him. “You’ve been quiet.”

Michael smiled without looking away from the window. “I know.”

He laughed softly. “I’m just happy.”

“Happy makes you quiet?”

“Sometimes.” He finally looked at her, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “When I don’t wanna ruin it by talkin’ too much.”

That softened her.

She leaned her head lightly against his shoulder. “That’s sweet.”

“It’s also strategic.”

Lena lifted her head. “Strategic?”

“Mmhmm.” His eyes dropped to her mouth for half a second before meeting hers again. “If I keep talkin’, I’m gonna talk myself into kissin’ you, and then your lipstick’s gonna be on me before we even get there.”

Lena laughed, low and warm. “So this is self-control?”

“Barely.”

“You poor thing.”

“I’m sufferin’.”

“You’ll survive.”

Michael squeezed her hand, smiling at her like he wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know, Lee. You look real kissable tonight.”

He kissed her shoulder, then slowly trailed upward toward her neck, careful enough not to disturb the scarf in her hair but bold enough to make her breath catch.

“Michael,” she warned, though there was no strength in it.

“Mmhmm?”

“You just gave a whole speech about my lipstick.”

“I know.” His mouth brushed the warm skin just beneath her ear. “This ain’t your lipstick.”

Lena pressed her lips together to keep from laughing too loud, glancing toward the front seat where Bill was very pointedly pretending the road required every ounce of his attention.

“You are terrible.”

“I’m respectful,” Michael murmured, kissing her neck once more before pulling back with a grin. “Remember?”

“Respectful men don’t start trouble in the backseat.”

“They do when their girl shows up lookin’ like that.”

Her cheeks warmed, but she turned her face toward the window to hide how pleased she was.

Michael only smiled wider and kept hold of her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as the city lights carried them closer to the club.

The closer they got, the more the city seemed to pulse. Traffic thickened around Midtown. The sidewalks grew brighter, busier, more alive with people dressed like they wanted the night to remember them. Fur coats in summer, sequins, satin, open shirts, sunglasses after dark, laughter spilling into the street like champagne. When the car finally turned onto West 54th, Lena sat up straighter.

There it was. Studio 54.

Even from the car, the entrance had its own gravity. A crowd waited outside behind ropes, pressed close and hopeful, dressed in every possible version of glamour. Some people posed like they were already inside. Others argued with doormen, pleaded, laughed too loudly, tried to make themselves look familiar. The whole sidewalk buzzed with wanting.

Lena’s excitement rose sharp and bright in her chest.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

Michael looked over at her, smiling at her reaction. “Still wanna go in?”

She turned to him slowly.

“Are you kidding?”

His smile widened.

Bill pulled closer to the entrance, and immediately the mood shifted. One of the doormen recognized the car, then Michael, then gave a quick nod toward another man near the door. It was smooth, practiced, discreet. Not a scene. Not chaos. Just a door opening where it stayed closed for almost everyone else.

Michael turned to Lena before getting out. “Ready?”

She took a breath, feeling the nerves flicker one last time beneath her ribs. Then she remembered Val’s voice.

Tonight, just be twenty-something and fine in New York.

Lena smiled. “Ready.”

Michael kissed her hand before stepping out first, then reached back for her hand. The moment she emerged, the sequins of her dress caught the club lights and the street glow all at once, shifting dusty rainbow colors across her skin. A few people in line turned to look, curiosity sharpening when they saw whose hand she was holding.

Michael kept his grip steady, not possessive or showy, just certain, and Lena held her head high as she let him lead her past the rope.

Inside, the sound hit first.

Bass, laughter, voices, the wild pulse of disco pouring through the walls before they even reached the main floor. The entrance was dimmer than she expected, almost secretive, like the club wanted to pull people out of the real world before giving them the fantasy.

As they stepped farther in, the room opened.

Lights flashed over bodies packed close together. Music rolled through the floor and up into Lena’s heels. The air smelled like expensive perfume, cigarette smoke, sweat, liquor, and something electric she couldn’t name. People danced like they had left their shame at the door. Beautiful people. Strange people. Famous people. People who looked famous because they believed they were.

Lena slowed, taking it in.

Michael leaned close to her ear so she could hear him. “You okay?”

She nodded, eyes wide. “This is insane.”

He laughed. “Good insane?”

She looked at him then, her face glowing under the lights.

“Very good insane.”

That was all he needed.

He led her down toward the floor, and for a few minutes, they didn’t worry about who was watching or what anyone might think. They just let the music take over. Lena found the rhythm first, hips moving easily, shoulders loosening as the nerves burned away beneath the lights. Michael watched her for half a second too long, smiling like he couldn’t help himself, before stepping in and matching her.

And then they were gone.

Not physically, not from the club or the dance floor or the crush of bodies moving around them, but gone from everything that had followed them there. Gone from the carefulness, from the whispering, from the need to think three steps ahead.

Somewhere else entirely.

Somewhere warmer. Louder. Freer. Somewhere that only existed in the space between his hand at her waist and her fingers on his shoulder, between the beat beneath their feet and the laughter they kept trading every time one of them moved closer than they meant to.

Michael moved like music lived in his bones, effortless and sharp and joyful all at once. Lena kept up better than he expected, laughing every time he spun her or pulled her back in. Her scarf trailed behind her, sequins flashing each time she turned. The deep red of her mouth curved wide with every laugh, every breathless little challenge she threw him with her eyes.

For the first time all day, neither of them had to whisper. The music swallowed everything: their laughter, their flirtation, the small gasps when they moved too close, the way his hand settled at her waist and hers found his shoulder like they had been doing this much longer than they had.

A club photographer moved through the crowd at one point, camera hanging from his neck as he snapped pictures of dancers, celebrities, and beautiful strangers caught mid-motion. Lena noticed him and stiffened for only a second.

Michael noticed immediately.

“Club photographer,” he said against her ear. “Not press.”

She looked up at him.

“They keep ’em for the club. Private stuff mostly.”

“Val told me.”

“Val knows everything, huh?”

“She likes to think so.” Lena smiled while still moving to the beat.

Michael smiled. “We can move if you want.”

Lena looked around, then back at him. A few cameras. A few glances. No shouting. No chasing. No one calling his name or demanding answers she didn’t owe.

She shook her head. “No. I’m good.”

“You sure?”

Instead of answering, she stepped closer, grabbed his face and kissed him, right there in the middle of the floor in front of everyone.

Michael froze for one stunned second before kissing her back, smiling against her mouth like he had been waiting all night for permission. Somewhere in the background, even through his closed eyes, he caught the quick burst of a camera flash.

When she pulled back, his eyes were bright.

Lena laughed. “Dance with me, Michael.”

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