𓏲ּ𝄢

Michael knew he should not be laying in bed with his eyes closed, imagining the women he loved. Picturing your hair wildly swaying in the wind, those bright eyes as you giggled to a joke, and oh so sweet smile. The smile that you made when you were hiding a gift.

It was all so wrong, like a grave sin that a person had to carry, a sin that was far too big to admit out loud. 

And despite the growing love that was blossoming in his heart, there were thin thorns sprouting as well. Thorns that have started to grow scars between his lungs, and the small buds of flowers suffocating and withering away. All this pain burnt between his chest, but he could not speak a single word. Because whenever he opened his mouth to utter such love, it fell back down to his heart. And the cycle of hurt would continue. 

After all, your heart was already owned by your boyfriend? And Michael was just Michael. He was your friend, even though he wished so desperately to be the one to press small kisses down to your jaw, to be the one to lay beside you and talk for hours about everything but nothing.

Instead of being in your arms, he was all by himself. Laying in bed, fingers curling to the coiled cord, with his hand pressing the telephone to his right ear. At least he could still hear your voice.

“And guess what? He brought me…” you shuffled in your blanket, pulling the telephone incredibly close to you “the most beautiful necklace I’ve seen!” you whispered excitedly. Oh how Michael could imagine the grin you must have.

“It’s all sparkly an’...an’— hey Mike why’ve you been so quiet!”

“‘M not…just listenin’” he murmured quietly, but despite that there was something melancholic in his voice. Something that felt so hard to grasp onto.

“You sure?” you bit the inside of your cheek. “‘Cause you sound all sappy!”

“I do not sound sappy! I’m so happy y’know,” he gulped down the burning feeling in his throat. “Just worried. Worried ‘bout if he’s treating you well.” 

“Well you shouldn’t fret! ‘Cause he is treating me well.” You did try to sound enthusiastic— because that was not true at all. The truth would have sounded something along the lines: Oh Michael I wish my boyfriend wouldn’t lie to me! I’ve seen him come to my home early in the morning, and leave quickly…I feel so alone.

But the truth never comes out, now does it? The truth that you were so alone, that you craved the attention that your boyfriend was not giving. Because it was quite obvious that your boyfriend's attention was elsewhere. And the true feeling of how Michael feels would not be out. 

Oh how cruel can one be to themselves? How fear is all consuming. But that is the thing of love. Love forces you to open your heart, in biting your fear and sacrificing false safety into vulnerability. And in return of what had caused such fear, acceptance is returned. 

Perhaps when the stars fall, and the earth splits, Michael will finally confess. And as for you, what are you waiting for? Right yes, a heartbreak that is steadily on the rise. It is right in front of you as well? The sight to see your boyfriend chasing after another young lady, and you being left alone once more. You will be stuck picking up your heart— all the shattered pieces that are needed to mend. And if that happens Michael would drop to his knees, and help you mend the shattered heart.

But for now, you would hold onto the loneliness and smile with your teeth. While for Michael he would hold onto the false happiness and listen to your lies.

When you first met Michael the first thing that stood out was his eyes. You thought you would get lost in his eyes; a beautiful shade of brown, and eyes that were carefully shaped. For Michael the first thing he noticed was your voice. Because the moment you greeted him, the words did not process in his head, but rather the sound of your voice did. For him, your voice reminded him of something that he imagined to be home.

Home for him was not the four walls that he lived in, nor was it a building that shelters you. The concept of being at home did not need to be a building, because it could be a place. If Michael had to use one word to describe his haven it would be “aether”—a place that held something pure. In his eyes, that pure place would be a dwelling that he felt belonged. That purity would be adoration; this adoration was meant to feel like a first love. And he found his home in your voice. Because your voice held that safety he never had. 

Michael truly believed he found his home, and that only caused his heart to swell with joy. That joy had spread across the entirety of his body, and he soon became addicted to feeling happy. It had started with the quiet safety, then to a small crush, and then finally you became someone he grew attached to. Michael was not subtle about his crush, and he himself knew it. He knew it was suspicious just by the way he would awkwardly look at you, while sweat formed around his neck. 

The amount of times that he refused to sit next to you, and how he would politely look away from you, it made his siblings believe that he was in love. But on a particular night, you and La Toya had come back home with shopping bags in hand. For some reason, everything was paid from your card. Either way, both of you came home to the sound of teasing and laughter. 

“I’ve been tellin’ y’all that Michael got a real bad crush on her!” Jermaine cackles sitting himself on the couch, right beside Michael. The closeness of Jermaine only caused Michael to gulp down the embarrassment, almost as if he could swallow back the relentless banter. “I don’ ” he mumbled quietly, eyes looking down at the carpet. He hated whenever his brothers talked about his feelings for you.

“What do you mean by,” Jermaine raised his head to him—eyes filled with pride. Michael bit his tongue, knowing whatever Jermaine was going to say next, he would want the Earth to split and take him first. 

“I don’!” Jermaine mimicked Michael’s high pitched voice, with a big grin. That only caused an eruption of laughter amongst his brothers.

All during the reactions of his brothers, he was now hoping this whole thing would end. But it would not end any time soon. This was due to the fact, when someone found something to joke around they would not stop, because all of a sudden their attention gravitated towards the thing that caught their interest.

“Boy, you got hearts in your eyes whenever La Toya brings her friend over!” Marlon spoke, trying not to laugh between his words.

“You guys could be a bit more quiet…” you rolled your eyes, fingers still tightly curled to the shopping bags. You did not believe a single word that came out of Michael’s brother's mouth—including Jermaine.

That was only from your knowledge about how siblings pull each other's legs, and somehow manage to pull on their hair instead. You hoped it was unintentional, just by the sight of Michael uncomfortably shifting on the coach. Poor boy. If someone were to poke at your feelings that hard, you knew you would get back on them. 

“Sooo…does he got a chance?” Jermaine grins brightly at you. His shoulder nudged to Michael’s, forcing him to look up at you. In that moment you could see in his eyes, that nervousness was painted inside them. 

Secretly Michael wished you would say yes, so he did not need to bring himself to you and embarrass himself with a confession. But the fleeting hope only cracked, at the sudden thought that you would not be interested in him.

And that revelation poisoned his mind. He regretted not savouring the hopeful moment, because now it felt like he was drinking lemons out of dehydration. At this point, it was challenging to gulp down the piling saliva. The funny thing is, this all happened because he “knew” you would not go out with him because well…he was just Michael Jackson. An ordinary person filled with sadness.

“What do you think?” you tilted your head to the side, eyes squinting down at Jermaine. Though La Toya was getting a bit too impatient with waiting. “Look, we don't ‘ave enough time for this.” La Toya rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue to her cheek. Before tugging your shoulder, and leading you to her room. The question only made him feel ashamed. He bit down his tongue, wishing quietly in his head that he would have a chance. But deep inside of his mind, he did not believe that it would happen. 

The sad thing about insecurity is that it can lead to someone to experience neither happiness or unhappiness. It leads you to feel empty; and that is how Michael felt about himself. If he were to describe himself, he would not be able to find the right words. After all, he was constantly reinventing himself—most of the time it wasn’t for himself. The reconstruction of himself didn’t rebirth him into a new person, rather it only fed into the ideology that he would never be good enough. And that only led to the birth of perfection. But that is something that you can’t chase, because perfection simply doesn’t exist—without imperfection there will be no perfection.

That only led him to believe that he wouldn’t have a chance to fall into a relationship. But that only proved how wrong Michael was to himself—and how lowly he thought about who he is. 

Though insecurity will always swell inside Michael’s heart, causing his vision to blur with who is faithful and who only wants a product—there would always be reverence—even if he could not see it. It was almost sad to see how Michael would not understand his veneration of love to you, and how you also poked through his undying love.

Even if you unknowingly played around his feelings, you had already quietly admitted your love to him. You remembered every single word that was uttered from Michael. You would blame it on boredom and on curiosity, but it was something more than that—it was enthrallment. This enthrallment happened from the way Michael’s words spoke to your heart and the way his eyes would light up. Michael’s words weren’t fleeting, it was always coaxed in interest—especially if you ever asked about music. His eyes would always twinkle like a fairy had—sprinkled fairy dust.

And that would conclude, to awe from the way he had placed all his attention to whatever he was doing.

Perhaps from the start, love was meant to blossom beneath the ground you both walked on. One had grown to love your voice—finding home—and only led to devoting his entire heart for you. While the other had fallen in love with the eyes of a man—finding safety—that also led to being in a dazed state. 

If it weren’t love, then what was this feeling? Because you already made up your mind, this was love. Even though you didn’t think the word “love” was the right way to draw a conclusion, it was the closest word in the English language to describe this feeling you possessed. 

That only made this day, Friday, a trance. You were distracted into preparing yourself. Because for some reason, the world had slowed down. There was no squeaking of your neighbor's car, no loud fire alarm waking you up, no burnt smell of pancakes, and no ringing of your telephone—there was peace. That peace was like a bath that you never wanted to get out. You enjoyed feeling the rays of pink hued sunlight touching your skin, enjoyed the fresh warm wind swaying through your room, and relished the sound of chattering birds.

You sat down on your bed, makeup brushes, your mascara and different shades of lip glosses, were all resting comfortably on your blanket, like a constellation. A small mirror was held in your hand, as you made sure your mascara would lift your eyelashes in a specific way. You were supposed to have a movie night with La Toya, but tonight this would also be the day where you were going to ask Michael out. You were done with this endless adoration you felt, if he were to reject you it’d be easy—or at least you hoped it’d be easy. But if he was also in love with you, you would continue to live in a world that’d feel like a hazy dream.

Once you were done with your makeup, you had picked up the THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN #212. You chewed on the inside of your cheek nervously. “Is this like bribing someone to date me?” you mumbled to yourself, flipping through the pages of the comic. Before you met Michael you had no interest in comics, but when you noticed the stack of comics, which Michael had constantly traded amongst his peers, you became slightly interested in them.

Even if it was like bribing someone at the end it’d be worth it. You placed the comic book inside your bag. There was still nervousness, despite you being aware of his feelings, there was still a growing fear that leached onto you. What if he rejects you? What if he isn’t ready for a relationship? 

All those silly thoughts run through your head, even when you are beside La Toya, watching some movie. Even when you hadn’t even given the gift to him. “Why would she even do that!” La Toya groaned from irritation by the movie, as she held the bowl of popcorn tightly in her hands. Your attention went back to the movie, still lightly chewing the inside of your cheek.

The women in the movie had those sad eyes, maybe you thought they were sad from her mascara running down her face. The movie was just filled with misfortune, and it didn’t even change when you looked at the scene that was playing right now: the female lead was turned away from the camera, and was holding onto a blue umbrella, as she slowly sat in the river as it rained down. 

You didn’t fully understand the “artistic” meaning behind it, but you wondered if it was a warning. If you try so hard to run away from something, you would only be led to run towards the thing you were running from. See the leading lady held an umbrella that was meant to protect herself from the rain, but it was useless because she already sat inside the rain.

The movie went on as you thought that, if you wouldn’t confess just to protect your heart away from rejection, then maybe you wouldn’t have a chance with Michael. You can’t always run away from something that can cause pain, you one way or another will go back to the pain in another form. 

When you looked beside you, La Toya had already fallen asleep. You bit the inside of your cheek once again, you had to go now or else you wouldn’t have a chance. Slowly you got up, as you picked up the comic book from your purse. All of a sudden, there was no tranquil but just the beating of your heart. Your hands hovered over Michael’s door, the nervousness pouring down inside your body. Biting down your bottom lip, you knocked on the door.

The door hesitantly opened, Michael head peeking out the gap, before he opened the entire door confused. “I know this isn’t right for a Friday night,” you said quickly ignoring how Michael looked confused. “But there's something in my brain, and I wanna make sure I'm saying it right,” you gulped down the nervousness.

“Just wanted to give a gift…” you mumbled quietly with a shy smile, your arm extending revealing the comic book to Michael. He quietly took the gift, looking up slightly confused from it. 

“You didn’ need to give this…” 

“Well I wanted to.” You shrugged quietly.

Michael just stood at his doorframe, even after you left. He flipped through the comic book in his hand, but at the first page he found a bright yellow sticky note. The sticky note had a big circle at the end, above the circle it said “smell me?”. While the top read out “a date?”, with your phone number. 

Never in his life would he think that the girl he had a crush on would even give him a gift, let on being interested in him. Now he too was living in a moment of a daze.

The feeling of not knowing, and being blissfully unaware of something that is awaiting you, is a universal experience. No one in the world will be able to grasp what is supposed to happen. And that is something that you either have to embrace or to ignore. Those who obsess with the idea of embracing or fixation on the idea of what is yet to happen may drive themselves insane, or bring misfortune. Because you're missing around the moment you're living in. 

But despite that people have this intense nostalgia, towards things that are yet to happen. Michael himself secretly craved affection, gravitating towards people who agreed to him, or showed him any small amount of adoration in his way. So this only made him have a small wish that something good would be waiting for him.

And this time, something "good" was actually waiting for him, this time.

You spend so much time making sure everyone else's days are beautiful. I hope someone remembers to make yours beautiful too.

You looked around the studio. Michael was pretending to read lyric sheets. Pretending very badly. When your eyes met, he smiled small, shy and immediately looked back down.

It became a habit. A poem tucked into your clipboard, A note hidden beneath your coffee cup, A cassette left on your desk with him quietly singing a melody he'd written the night before.

"You know," you laughed one afternoon, unfolding another note, "you're gonna run out of things to write." He looked offended. "I've got plenty."

"You've written me one every day this month."

"I-i know." He smiles even wider. "...Why?" He shrugged, suddenly fascinated by the floor. "'Cause..." Silence. "...I like knowing you'll smile at least once today."

...how could someone be that soft? Even the staff started noticing. "Another letter?" one of the makeup artists teased. Your face burned. "It's... poetry."

"From who?" You smiled to yourself. "...A secret admirer." Across the room, Michael nearly choked on his water trying not to laugh.

Joe Jackson noticed too. Not the letters…Michael. The way his son stopped looking exhausted whenever you walked into a room. The way rehearsals went smoother when you were nearby. The way Michael unconsciously searched for you after every performance. Joe had spent years teaching his children one lesson.

‘Feelings were distractions’

‘Distractions cost money.’

One evening he stopped you in the hallway. "I need a word." You smiled politely. "Of course, Mr. Jackson." His expression never changed. "You're close with Michael." You hesitated. "I work closely with him."

"That's not what I asked."

...

"I care about him." Joe nodded slowly. "I believe you." For one foolish second...You thought the conversation had gone well.

The next morning, everything changed. Michael walked into the studio carrying another folded letter. He stopped when he saw Joe looking at him and you besides him. Joseph didn't shout this time, He simply placed a photograph on the table.

You...standing beside Jackie, laughing. Jackie's hand resting lightly on your back. Perfectly innocent. Perfect timing. Michael frowned. "...When was this?" Joseph shrugged. "Yesterday." Michael looked at you. "You didn't tell me you were with Jackie." You blinked. "...We were discussing wardrobe budgets." Joseph answered before you could. "For nearly two hours."

"It wasn't—" Joe laughed. He loved ruining everyone’s lives. "He asked for her personally." Michael looked back at the photograph. His smile was already disappearing.

Then Joseph pulled out another envelope. "I wasn't going to show you this." He sighed dramatically. "But perhaps you deserve honesty." Inside...was a handwritten note.

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"I'd love the opportunity to work with you permanently."

"You're much easier to talk to than your brother."

Jackie's name signed underneath. Your stomach dropped. "I've never seen this." Joseph looked almost offended. "No?"

"No!" You said fast. Michael's eyes found yours. "...You didn't?"

"N-No." You said weak. "I..." Michael started, but then stopped. You could hear the uncertainty in his voice. Just enough to break your heart.

Joseph quietly added, "She declined at first." Michael swallowed. "...At first?" Joseph Nodded and Smiled "But eventually..." He slid over the forged transfer papers. "...she accepted." You tried to take the papers. "Nah uh." Joseph Laughed. "I didn't."

"No?" Joseph looked at the signature. "It certainly looks convincing." You couldn’t believe your eyes, is this man crazy??? "It's fake."

"You keep saying that." Michael wasn't looking at Joseph anymore.

He was looking at you. Trying...trying so hard...to fit this version of you together with the girl who laughed at his poems. Who reminded him to eat. Who tucked blankets around him when he fell asleep in the studio. It didn't make sense. None of it did.

"...Why didn't you tell me Jackie asked?" Your heart cracked. "...Because he never did."

"You swear?" His voice cracked. "I swear." Joseph folded his arms. "Careful. Son." You looked at him. "I won't tolerate lies."

Michael rubbed his face. "...Joseph..." It came out exhausted. Joseph softened his voice. "Michael."

"I know this hurts." Michael tried to find his words, but genuinely couldn’t "..." Joseph was very satisfied "But she's a young woman."

Michael still couldn’t find his words. "Jackie's older. Established. Confident. He isn't..." Joseph let the sentence hang. "...like you." Michael flinched. Just barely. You saw it anyway. Joseph kept going. "You've always been sensitive…Girls don't usually choose sensitive."

"...Joseph."

"They choose certainty." He nodded toward the papers. "Looks like she did." You stepped forward. "I chose this job because of Michael."

Joseph smiled. "There." He looked at Michael. "Did you hear that?" Michael frowned. Joseph repeated it. "She chose the job." Not you. The job. Then Joseph quietly added, "She never said she chose you." ...

The room became impossibly still. Because...he was right. You never had. You couldn't. He was your boss.

Nothing had ever happened, No confessions , No promises. Just letters…Poems. Smiles that lingered a little too long. You had never told Michael you loved him. Michael looked at you. "...Did you?" You frowned. "...Did I what?"

"...Choose me?"

...nothing came out. Because how could it? You couldn't say yes. Not when neither of you had ever crossed that line. You just stared at him with tears in your eyes. And your silence...answered the wrong question.

Michael looked down. "...Oh." One tiny word. Barely audible. But it sounded like something inside him had snapped.

Joseph gently rested a hand on his shoulder. "I know." Michael didn't move. Joseph spoke softly. "The poems…they were only poems." Michael laughed once. It wasn't funny.

"I thought..." He shook his head. "...I really thought..." His eyes closed. "...I'm stupid."

"N-No Michael.." You took another step. "No, Michael." He backed away. Just one. It hurt more than if he'd screamed.

"So..." He looked at you. His eyes were glossy now. "...when you smiled at the letters..that wasn't..."

"It was real."

"I loved your letters." The second the words left your mouth...Joseph interrupted. "But not him." ...Michael's eyes met yours again.

Still Waiting…Hoping…Begging. Just give him something. Anything. But your throat closed. Because Joseph had cornered you perfectly. You couldn't say I love you.

It wasn't true. Not yet. You couldn't say I wanted you instead of Jackie.

Because there had never been a "you instead of Jackie." There had never been a choice. Only a crush that had quietly become something much deeper. Too late. Michael nodded slowly. "...Right." He smiled very broken. "...I get it now."

"You liked the attention." His voice was so calm. So heartbreakingly calm. "I don't blame you."

"I never—"

"I wrote poems..." He laughed at himself. "...Joseph was right."

"No."

"I made it into something it wasn't." Tears streamed down your face. "Please listen to me."

"I did…For months." Another smile.This one even sadder. "I just heard what I wanted."

He reached into his jacket. Pulled out the newest letter. The one he'd planned to leave on your desk that morning. Still perfectly folded. He looked at it for a long moment.

Then…without opening it...he quietly tore it in half. Then again. And again. Little white pieces drifted onto the studio floor. You sobbed. "...Please don't."

"I shouldn't have written them." His voice cracked. "It must've made you uncomfortable."

"They didn't."

"I'm sorry."

"No—"

"I’m sorry I embarrassed you."

"You never embarrassed me."

"I'm sorry I mistook kindness..." He swallowed. "...for something more."

Joseph watched in silence. Satisfied. His plan had worked exactly as intended. He hadn't needed Michael to hate you. Only to stop believing in you.

❤︎ © 888latte.

mil talks ૮ • ﻌ - ა. this took ME again so long *sigh*... lmk if this needs a part 2??? I love writing angst sm <3 anyways #fuhjoe and have a great day / night ilyyall.