michael had been a fan of yours long before he ever met you.

it started with one movie while he was stuck in a hotel room somewhere in europe. then another. then another. before he knew it, he was asking people if they had seen your latest film and getting weirdly excited whenever your interviews came on television. michael liked that you never seemed prepared for them.

while everyone else in hollywood answered questions like they had practiced in front of a mirror before, you always looked like you just wandered into the conversation by accident. half the time you were laughing at something you had said yourself, so when he spotted you across the ballroom at a charity gala in 1997, he knew exactly who you were.

what surprised him was how normal you looked. you weren’t working the room or posing for photographs. you were sitting with a group of older women from the organizing committee, listening so intently to one of their stories that you didn’t even notice half the celebrities walking past your table. he couldn’t stop glancing over, so later while trying to grab a bottle of water, he nearly walked straight into you.

“oh! i’m so sorry.”

you looked up then immediately giggled.

“michael jackson apologizing to me is crazy.”

his face turned pink so fast it was impressive.

after that, talking to you was easy, easier than it should’ve been. he kept waiting for that awkward moment where the conversation stalled out and one of you had to pretend to be interested in the decorations or something, but it never happened. one topic just kept leading to another.

michael’s secretary came over and reminded him that he was supposed to be speaking with one of the donors, and michael nodded, said he’d be there in five minutes, and twenty minutes later he was still standing exactly where she’d left him.

by the time the night started ending, most of the guests had already gone home. staff members were stacking chairs near the back of the room and collecting abandoned programs from empty tables, and somehow the two of you were still talking. when you finally hugged him goodbye, michael sat in the back of the car afterwards staring out the window like an idiot.