₊˚꩜ 𝗌𝗈𝗅𝖺𝗋 ✮˚₊

•.° - ₊˚ʚ Chapter 2: Familiar Strangers ɞ˚₊ - °.•

It started the same way it usually did, with you sitting on the bench outside Studio B, your book open in your lap but barely being read. Your attention kept drifting toward the rhythm of movement inside the rehearsal room and the occasional burst of laughter that spilled out into the hallway whenever the door opened.

Today was no different than yesterday.

The door swung open again; you heard shoes squeaking against the floor, and Joseph’s voice following close behind like he was never far from anything that happened in that room.

“Again. From the top,” he called out, sharp and firm.

A few of the brothers came out first, talking over each other as they grabbed water bottles and wiped at their faces, still laughing about something that had happened during rehearsal. You kept your eyes on your book, pretending you weren’t listening, even though you were very aware of everything going on around you.

“I’m telling you, he’s got us working like it’s midnight and not afternoon,” Jermaine was muttering as he passed, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it.

Marlon laughed, bumping his shoulder. “That’s because you’re the one always messing up the count.”

“Man, that was one time.”

“It was not one time.”

Their voices faded slightly as they moved further down the hallway, still joking, still teasing each other like the exhaustion hadn’t even fully hit them yet.

And then Michael stepped out.

His shoulders slightly relaxed now that rehearsal was paused, but still carrying that quiet focus he seemed to never fully let go of.

You didn’t look up right away this time. At least, you tried not to.

When you finally glanced up, it happened at the same time he looked over.

And just like before, both of you immediately looked away again, almost in sync, like it had become some kind of unspoken habit neither of you had figured out how to break yet.

That small moment didn’t go unnoticed.

One of his brothers, Tito,  who had been leaning against the wall nearby, followed the direction of his glance and immediately raised his eyebrows like something had clicked in his head.

“Oh, hold on,” he whispered slowly, a grin already forming before Michael even reacted. “That’s the same girl again, isn’t it?”

Michael straightened a little too quickly, almost like the question had caught him off guard even though it probably shouldn’t have.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, trying to look away, but his voice came out a little tighter than he probably intended.

The brother tilted his head toward the bench, where you were very suddenly finding your book extremely interesting again.

“I’m talking about the fact that every time we come out here on break, I always catch you giving goo goo eyes at that girl,” he said, stretching the words out like he was enjoying every second of it. “And don’t even try to act like you don’t know what I mean, because I’ve been watching you do it all week.”

“I haven’t been doing anything,” Michael snapped back, shaking his head, trying to deny his habit of staring.

“Oh yeah?” Tito replied, laughing a little. “So you just happen to be looking over there every time she’s sitting there, and that’s just coincidence?”

Michael opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly not loving where this was going.

“I’m not looking at her,” he insisted finally, quieter now, as if saying it more softly would somehow make it more believable.

That made Tito laugh even harder. Marlon stepped into the conversation from a few feet away, clearly entertained now.

“Man, leave him alone,” Marlon said, though he was smiling too. “You're just making it worse.”

“I’m not making anything worse,” Tito replied, still grinning. “I’m just trying to understand something simple. Like, for example, what’s her name Mike?”

That question hung in the air for a second longer than the others.

Michael paused.

And when he finally spoke, his voice was much lower than before.

“…I-I don’t know her name.”

For a moment, there was silence.

Then the brother gave a loud, knowing chuckle like he had just won something.

“Exactly,” he said, pointing slightly like that proved his entire point. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

You listened from a distance. Pressing your lips together to keep from smiling too obviously, staring down at your book even though you hadn’t actually read a single word in a while.

Michael looked completely done with the conversation now, rubbing the back of his neck as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly trying to figure out how to escape without making it worse.

“Can you stop talking?” he muttered finally, though there was no real anger in it, just embarrassment.

“Why?” Tito replied immediately, sounding way too pleased with himself. “I’m just observing what I see.”

“You are not observing,” Michael said, finally looking away from them entirely.

“I am very observant,” Tito insisted.

“You are annoying,” Michael replied under his breath.

That was enough to set them off laughing again, the sound bouncing down the hallway as they slowly started moving back toward the rehearsal room.

Michael exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly like he had officially given up on defending himself.

But just before he turned to go back inside, his eyes flicked toward the bench one more time.

Quick. Careful. Almost like it wasn’t intentional.

You caught it anyway.

And this time, instead of immediately looking away, you let yourself smile just slightly before lowering your gaze back to your book, pretending that your heartbeat hadn’t changed at all.

The door closed behind them again, and the hallway slowly settled back into its quieter rhythm.

But even after the noise faded, something about the moment stayed behind.

And for the first time, you started wondering not just if he noticed you…

…but how long he had been noticing you without saying anything at all.

•.° - ₊˚ʚ Chapter 1: Quiet curiosity ɞ˚₊ - °.•

Every day after band class, you came to the dance studio with your mom, even though you never really wanted to; she kind of dragged you along, saying it was good for you. You usually set up the chairs, half-listening to the music, counting down the minutes until you could finally be back home in the comfort of your room.

But today, as you looked out toward the window, you saw him—slender, hesitant in his movements, his eyes flickering down for a second before he looked up, locking eyes with you. You found yourself trapped in his captivating glare. 

He looked gentle, shy, and curious. You quickly looked away, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of him, even if he was just a stranger to you. 

Just then, a sharp voice cut through the air; a man called out to the boy you were staring at, “Cmon Michael! You’re wasting time; we've got things to do.”  Michael. You like the sound of that name; you continue to listen to their conversation. 

“Coming, Joseph,” Michael says in a soft, almost tired voice. With his shoulders slightly hunched, he quietly followed Joseph into the rehearsal room, the rest of the boys filing in behind him. You figured they had to be his brothers.

You watched until the rehearsal room door clicked shut.

"So that's Michael Jackson..." you thought to yourself.

You'd heard the name before. Almost everyone had. The Jacksons had been on the radio for years, their songs impossible to escape. Still, seeing one of them standing only a few feet away felt strangely ordinary. He wasn't surrounded by screaming fans or television cameras. He was just another teenager walking into rehearsal.

And somehow, that made you even more curious. 

After Michael goes into rehearsal, your mom calls you back to work.

"Quit daydreaming," she says, laughing as she nudges your shoulder. "Those chairs aren't going to put themselves away." 

You roll your eyes and get back to work.

As you're stacking chairs or organizing props, you hear the music start from behind the rehearsal room doors. Every once in a while, you catch a glimpse of the brothers dancing through the small window. Michael looks completely different while performing, confident and energetic, like the shy boy from a few minutes ago has disappeared.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・ .・。.

You had barely finished stacking the last of the folding chairs when your mom called your name from across the studio.

"Hey, honey?" she said, pointing toward a crate sitting near the office door. "Would you mind taking those water bottles into Studio B? They're probably getting ready for a break."

You glanced over at the crate before letting out an exaggerated sigh.

"Do I have to?"

She laughed, already knowing your answer.

"Yes, you do."

Muttering something under your breath that she thankfully couldn't make out, you bent down and lifted the crate. It was heavier than it looked, and by the time you reached the rehearsal room, you were already wishing you'd complained a little more.

The music pouring through the door softened as you pushed it open with your shoulder.

Inside, the room buzzed with quiet conversation. A few boys were stretching against the mirrored wall while others wiped sweat from their faces, taking advantage of what looked like a short break. You tried not to stare, keeping your eyes on the crate as you carried it toward the corner.

Just as you set it down, a familiar voice caught your attention.

"Thank you."

You looked up.

It was him.

Michael stood only a few feet away, slightly out of breath from rehearsal. Damp curls clung to his forehead, and despite the room full of people, he somehow looked just as quiet as he had the first time you'd seen him. He offered you a small, almost hesitant smile, like he wasn't entirely sure if he should've spoken at all.

Your mind went completely blank.

"Oh... um... you're welcome."

For a second, neither of you said anything. He reached down to grab a bottle of water while you awkwardly adjusted the sleeves of your sweater, pretending to be far more interested in that than the fact that he was standing right in front of you.

Before either of you could think of something else to say, a firm voice cut through the room.

"Michael."

Joseph didn't raise his voice, but he didn't have to. The entire room seemed to straighten up the second he spoke.

"Break's over. Back to work."

Michael immediately nodded.

"Yes, Joseph."

He twisted the cap off the bottle, taking one last quick glance in your direction before quietly jogging back onto the rehearsal floor.

You stood there for another moment, watching everyone quickly fall back into position.

"...Well," you murmured to yourself as you headed for the door, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"So much for a normal afternoon."