THINKING 'BOUT YOU β MORE THAN I SHOULD.
( part 1 ) . part 2 β
synopsis : after a violent past and a relationship that left scars deeper than anyone could see, you become one of the music industry's fastest rising stars after your unforgettable Grammy performance in 1984. Fame was supposed to be freedom. A new beginning. But trusting people, especially men, feels impossible now. Michael slowly begins to challenge everything you've convinced yourself love had to be.
warnings: Mentions of domestic violence, traumatic past, emotional avoidance, loneliness, yearning, angst with plot, and slow burn romance. Reader is a man-hater, hehe.
β Note: Thank you so much for all the support. I hope you enjoy it.
You barely slept last night after that conversation. It was a real blow to any defenses you had around you. Every time you closed your eyes, you remembered the balcony. The cold air, the distant music, the way Michael had looked at you without expecting anything in return, as if he could just look at you and that was enough.
And somehow, that disturbed you more than it should have.
You hated how your mind kept replaying every word he said, searching for hidden intentions that never seemed to appear. It would be easier for you if he were a complete jerk, if he were cruel, if he were a man like everyone else.
But he wasn't. And god, that was fucking terrifying.
"Hey!" You heard it in the background, your eyes glued to a control panel, lots of buttons. "Hellooo?" Again. And you looked up. Kathe was there. You had been sitting in the studio for almost three hours now. You could only murmur, "Vocals are too loud, don't you think?"
One of the producers was exhausted, she'd been changing volumes since eight in the morning. Kathe approached, letting she go to rest and sitting down next to you. You leaned back in your chair, sighing wearily, and rubbed your eyes, the burden felt heavy after the success you had launched.
But music had always been the only place where your mind finally went quiet. Everything made sense for you there.
Every note.
Every lyric.
Every tiny detail you could control. Unlike people.
Kathe brought the coffee closer to you. And she smiled. "I'm fascinated by what you do." She murmured. "But you've been here since seven in the morning."
"I'm working, Kathe." You said defensively.
"You're avoiding something." She said. Your jaw clenched immediately. Her eyes studied you intently and then she smiled. "You can't stop thinking about him, can you?"
You almost choked on the air. And she laughed. "What?" you snapped a little too quickly. Kathe only smiled into her coffee. "Mhm."
"You've gone completely crazy! I'm serious, Kathe."
"I'm serious, too."
You grabbed your coffee and started drinking, avoiding her gaze. She spoke first. "You know, most people in their first conversation with a celebrity like Michael are looking for a way to marry him." That almost made you giggle, but you held it back.
"Good for them." You say.
"But you..." Kathe continued, looking at you. "You look terrified, darling." And you froze in place. Because she was right. Terror was exactly what you were feeling now.
Not because Michael had done something wrong. Damn, that would be easy.
Cruelty? Manipulation? Invasion? Groping? You understood.
But gentleness? Tenderness? It was unfamiliar. And unfamiliar things had always hurt you eventually.
"I don't know what he wants from me, Kathe." you admitted quietly before you could stop yourself.
Kathe's expression softened almost instantly. "Maybe nothing," she said carefully. "Maybe he just liked talking to you." Your chest tightened at that possibility. Because somehow, that felt even more dangerous.
"Please tell me you finally convinced her to eat something," your producer muttered tiredly from the other side of the room, making Kathe laugh softly.
You rolled your eyes. "I'm working, you can't tell me what to do." You said, looking at the controls again.
"You're torturing that song." The sound of the door opening. You didn't pay attention to it.
"It sounds terrible," you said.
"No, it sounds good, the beatβ"
"Sounds perfect to me..." Your voice died in your throat. Because another voice quietly echoed from near the doorway. "I think it sounds beautiful."
Your entire body froze.
Slowly, you turned around in your chair.
Michael stood near the studio entrance, hands awkwardly behind his jacket as if he suddenly regretted coming inside at all. Quincy stood beside him looking amused by the situation. Your music producer almost fell over with excitement, as if she had seen a real angel.
"Oh, I didn't know they were coming." You said, forcing a grimace that you wanted to look like a smile as you glanced at Kathe. "I didn't know!" she whispered back excitedly.
Michael looked between both of you, visibly confused already. "I can leave if this is a bad timeβ"
"No!" Kathe answered way too fast. You closed your eyes briefly. Damn traitor.
Quincy laughed quietly before stepping further inside the studio. "Relax, nobody's dying in here. Michael just wanted to hear the amazing artist here. You captivated us all last night."
That made your stomach twist instantly.
Because suddenly the studio didn't feel safe anymore. Your music, your place, your moments were no longer yours. Everything felt exposed. And the tension was so great that Kathe invented a great excuse to get your producer and Quincy out, leaving you alone with Michael.
Michael noticed the shift in your expression almost immediately. His posture softened slightly, hesitant. "We don't have to stay long," he said carefully. "I just... wanted to see you again." And that was exactly the damn problem.
He softened the walls you had built up just by knowing him for a couple of hours, and it terrified you.
"You don't have to look at me like that," you suddenly snapped. Trying to be cold, to distance yourself and put distance between yourself and someone who was getting very close to you. The room fell silent almost immediately.
Michael blinked in confusion. "Like what?"
"Like you understand me. You dont know me." Your own voice sounded harsher than you intended, but once the words escaped, you couldn't stop them anymore. "You don't know me, Michael Jackson."
His expression changed slightly. Your heart sank a little. He didn't look angry, he looked sad. "I never said that."
"Then stop acting like you see something in me." You stood up too quickly from your chair, your heartbeat painfully loud in your chest. "Because you don't. I'm not going to let you use me." You said, frustrated. "What do you want from me? You want something, don't you?"
The studio suddenly felt suffocating again.
Too small. Too warm. Too vulnerable.
Michael stayed quiet for a moment, almost careful with his next words. "I wasn't trying to upset you. Not even to use you, I'm not like that." And somehow, that made everything worse.
Because he sounded sincere.
"Pfft, every men like you is like that. You think that just because you're a superstar I'll let you make a fool of me?" You took a step back, not letting him speak, not letting him get closer. "I think you should leave now."
Silence. The kind that hurts instantly.
Michael stared at you for a few seconds, as if trying to decide whether saying something else would only make things worse. He simply nodded once. "...Okay." Michael lowered his gaze for a moment before quietly walking toward the studio door.
And somehow that hurt more than if he had argued back with you.
When that door closed, the studio became truly freezing. Your breathing turned uneven almost immediately as the adrenaline slowly faded from your body, leaving nothing but exhaustion behind. You stared at the empty doorway, your knees gave out slightly against the edge of the chair behind you.
Because deep down, you knew he hadn't deserved any of that.
β
The months have passed quickly but quietly.
Well, in the 'quietly' life of two superstars. You were on the rise, everyone was talking about the new golden voice and the queen you were.
You saw Michael everywhere.
At awards ceremonies, at events, on big screens in the street, on magazine covers.
Each time your stomach twisted.
You hadn't spoken to him since what happened in the studio, you've achieved your goal, haven't you? To keep him away from you.
But why did that feel so shitty?
There were moments, though.
Brief ones.
At the AMAs, your eyes met across the room for less than three seconds before you looked away first. Kathe gave you a look. She knew.
At another event in New York, Quincy greeted you warmly while Michael stood quietly beside him, almost as if he wanted to say something but couldn't find the courage anymore. How could he? You scared him away.
And it hurt more and more. And of course, Kathe noticed everything.
"You know he asks about you, right?" she said, looking at you as you sat down at an event. You looked at her, and rolled your eyes. "He does not."
Kathe only hummed innocently. "Quincy says he listens all your interviews, and songs, and everythinggg!"
Your chest tightened painfully at that. You hated how much that affected you.
Meanwhile, miles away, Michael sat through interview after interview, studio and more studio. After Thriller, he needed to surpass himself and of course pretending not to notice whenever your name appeared in conversations. But Quincy noticed.
Of course he did.
"You're staring again, boy." Quincy muttered quietly during an awards show while. Michael watched you laughing softly with Kathe near the backstage curtains. He felt his heart beating gently in his chest and looked away immediately.
"I'm not."
"Mhm."
Silence.
Then, after a moment,
"She hates me, Q. Like hate, real hate..."
"Oh, no," he said, shaking his head. "She's scared. Scared of you." Michael's expression softened as he looked at you again, longing to make you laugh just one more time, like on that balcony.
All of that made it sadder.
β
At the afterparty for this event, you were comfortable in your place. Talking with Kathe. She was drinking champagne while you were trying to fix the sleeves of your dress, A somewhat revealing dress, something you never thought you'd wear after...
Him.
The ballroom felt unbearably warm.
Maybe it was the damn lights. Maybe it was the champagne. Maybe it was the fact that Michael had been standing across the room for the last twenty minutes pretending not to look at you. And failing miserably.
That almost made you giggle. It had been months since the studio. Months since you told him to leave you alone. And somehow, the silence between you had only grown heavier.
And poor Kathe, who has unfortunately noticed it too. Because she never shuts her damn mouth. "You know, you two have become embarrassing these past few months," she said, taking a sip of champagne.
You frowned immediately. "What does that even mean?"
"It means Quincy told me Michael nearly walked into the wrong interview room yesterday because he was staring at one of your magazine covers." You couldn't help but laugh a little, and then you felt bad about it.
You grabbed your champagne glass too quickly just to avoid responding. Your stomach lurched.
Kathe sighed dramatically. "You know, normal people usually just flirt."
"We are not flirting, Kathe."
"Mhm."
Across the room, Quincy leaned slightly toward Michael with the exact same exhausted expression. In that, he was similar to Kathe.
Michael looked away from you immediately.
Too late. Your eyes met, again. Quincy laughed under his breath. "You're doing it again."
"I'm not doing anything."
"You've been staring at that poor girl all night, Michael. I'm starting to think I should push you towards her."
Michael adjusted the sleeve of his jacket awkwardly. "I was just making sure she was okay, Q. The press has talked a lot of nonsense about her." He said, while looking at you again.
Quincy looked at him. A long moment.
"Michaelβ"
"What?"
"That's even worse." And Michael immediately looked away when you and he made eye contact again.
Meanwhile, across the room, your heartbeat was becoming genuinely unbearable, It hurt like hell. Because every time your eyes accidentally met his, he looked away like he still thought he had done something wrong. And that guilt inside your chest only grew each time. The music swelled loudly through the room as more people filled the dance floor.
Too crowded. Too noisy. Too many eyes on you. Kathe looked at you, worried. "Everything alright?" You nodded instinctively. But you felt breathless.
Which meant no.
The room suddenly felt smaller with every passing second. Laughter echoed too loudly around you while unfamiliar hands brushed past your shoulders in the crowd.
You needed air, so you walked quickly toward the balcony. Footsteps behind you put you on alert, so before you could step out, a hand stopped you.
"Waitβ" Michael's voice. Soft. Careful. The chill of the night on your bare shoulders, exposed by the dress. Of course it was him.
You looked into his eyes, your heart was racing, and all you could say was, "I'm sorry, Michael." The words came out so quietly you almost hated yourself for saying them at all.
For a second, neither of you moved.
The city lights flickered far below the hotel balcony while distant music echoed faintly from inside the ballroom behind you. "You don't have to apologize," he said softly after a moment.
"Yes, I do." You said, quickly. Your voice was tight. Michael remained silent. He still gave you space, he still did that. "It annoyed me that you were so kind to me."
That finally made him speak. His voice was careful, gentle. "Why would that make you angry?" You let out a small laugh at that.
Not a happy one.
More like exhaustion
Because where were you even supposed to begin? Would he be scared if you told him everything?
"You know what's funny?" you murmured, staring out at the city lights. "When people hear someone was in a bad relationship, they imagine bruises first." And you could only say what was weighing so heavily on your heart.
Michael's expression changed. You noticed that and continued talking. He gave you space.
"They don't think about the smaller things." Your fingers tightened slightly around the glass. "The things that stay long after years. Your throat suddenly felt too tight.
"He used to get angry when I laughed too much around other people." You swallowed hard. "Especially men."
The words sounded ugly out loud.
Embarrassing.
You hated that.
"So eventually..." you continued quietly, "I just stopped laughing included with him." You sighed. "He hated parties," you whispered. "Or maybe he hated me at parties. I don't know anymore." A weak breath escaped you. "Every time I talked to someone too long, he'd accuse me of trying to embarass him."
Your eyes were burning. Tears threatened to fall.
"I stopped seeing my friends because fighting with him afterward was exhausting." You laughed softly again, bitter this time. "Then eventually they stopped calling altogether. I can't blame them." The shame in your chest felt unbearable suddenly.
Because saying it out loud made it real.
Worse than real.
Pathetic. Because you allowed all of that and blamed yourself.
"And the stupid thing is..." Your voice cracked slightly for the first time that night. "I really thought he loved me. Because he apologized. He cried. And you'd believe it because you want the version of them from the beginning to come back so badly."
Finally, the tears came. Looking into Michael's eyes. He understood everything and gently wiped them away. Looking into your eyes.
"I spent years feeling guilty for taking up space." Your eyes burned now. "Do you understand how humiliating that is? It's so pathetic that I still hear his voice when I enjoy a little bit of my life."
Michael's face softened in a way that almost undid you completely. The confession hung there between both of you.
Raw. Bleeding. Human.
Michael stayed silent for a long moment before finally speaking.
Very quietly.
"I don't think surviving someone like that is pathetic." He said, tucking your hair away from your face, looking at you completely, without pity, only understanding and affection.
You leaned into his touch before realizing it.
Because for the first time in years.
Being close to someone didn't feel dangerous.
"I don't even know why I'm telling you this. I'm sorry." You admitted weakly. Michael's expression softened again. "Maybe because you were tired of carrying it alone." He said, smiling at you.
Your breath caught painfully in your throat. Because no one had ever said it like that before.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
You simply stood there together beneath the city lights, the noise of the world feeling impossibly far away.
And for the first time in a very long time, you didn't feel alone. And thinking about Michael more than you should didn't feel so bad.
I hope everyone enjoyed this story. If you'd like to see extras, your wish is my command! Thank you all. I loved making this story because I spoke from my heart. π
















