🥀

He moved around you slow and strangely calm, walking toward the dresser like he suddenly remembered something he needed to do. His fingers adjusted the rings on his hands absentmindedly before he picked up a folded shirt that clearly had nothing to do with anything.

You stared at him in disbelief.

Michael never raised his voice when he was hurt deeply. He disappeared inward instead. Folded into himself so quietly it was terrifying.

“You’re not even gonna say anything?” you asked softly.

His shoulders lifted faintly in a shrug.

“You said you want a break.”

“I said I need time to think.”

“Same thing.”

The flatness in his tone made your chest ache.

Michael carefully folded the shirt again despite it already being folded perfectly. But he knew himself and it seemed like if he stopped moving for even a second, something ugly might slip out.

“Why are you being like that?” you whispered.

That finally got a reaction.

He laughed once quietly under his breath, but there was no humor in it at all.

“You don’t need to tell me that right now, girl.”

The words weren’t cruel. That almost made them worse.

You watched him turn away toward the mirror, jaw tight beneath the soft glow of the lamp. He looked exhausted suddenly. More exhausted than angry.

“I just…” you struggled for the right words. “I don’t know how much longer I can sit around waiting for your life to make room for me.”

Michael closed his eyes briefly.

Then, very softly, “You think I don’t know that?”

Silence.

His reflection stared back at himself in the mirror for a long moment before he spoke again.

“You know what’s funny?” His voice stayed calm, but barely. “Everybody always leaves when things get hard with me.” He swallowed once. “Family, friends, people I trust…” A tiny shrug. “Guess I thought maybe you’d be different.”

Your face fell immediately. “That’s not fair.”

“No,” he agreed quietly. “None of this is.”

The distance between you suddenly felt enormous despite the small room.

You stepped toward him carefully. “Michael…”

But the second your fingers touched his arm, he flinched instinctively, his body reacting before his mind could stop it.

Both of you froze.

His eyes shut briefly after that, regret flickering across his face immediately, but he still stepped away anyway.

That hurt more than if he’d yelled.

“I’m not trying to abandon you,” you whispered.

He nodded faintly without looking at you. “Okay.”

“You know I love you.”

Another nod.

But he still wouldn’t meet your eyes now.

And suddenly you realized what was happening. Michael had stopped defending himself because somewhere inside, he’d already convinced himself he lost.

The fight had drained out of him completely.

“Mama,” he said quietly after a long silence, still staring down at his hands, “if you need space…” His voice caught slightly before smoothing itself back out again. “I’m not gonna beg you to stay somewhere you’re unhappy.”

The sentence sounded rehearsed. Not because he’d practiced it, but because pain like this clearly wasn’t new to him.

Your eyes burned instantly.

“That’s not what I want.”

“Then what do you want?” he finally asked, looking up at you for the first time since you said the word break.

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked softly. “Tell my father no and disappoint everybody? Tell my brothers no? Tell the label no?” His voice cracked slightly now. “I’m trying so hard to hold everything together, Mama.”

You could hear the exhaustion bleeding through every word.

“But I can’t keep losing you in the process either,” you whispered.

For a second he looked like he might say something back but instead, he just looked down again.

And checked out completely.

“Okay,” he repeated quietly.

That word again. You hated it.

The silence Michael left behind felt unbearable. Just this awful emptiness sitting in the room between you, swallowing everything whole. He stood near the dresser with his head lowered slightly, arms folded tightly across himself now like he was physically holding himself together, and the sight of it suddenly made your chest cave in with guilt.

You’d never seen him shut down like this before.

Usually when you fought, Michael softened. Reached for you. Tried to smooth things over with quiet words and careful touches and those sad eyes that always melted your anger eventually.

But this? This felt different. Something inside him had retreated too far inward and you feel like you're adding onto his problems.

Your breathing started shaking harder. “I…” You wiped roughly at your face, tears spilling faster now. “I should go.”

Michael didn’t answer right away. And, ough. That hurt too.

Finally, after a long pause, he nodded once without lifting his head. “Okay.”

You grabbed your bag off the chair so quickly your hands fumbled the strap, and suddenly humiliation came crashing down all at once. You felt stupid. Emotional. Dramatic. You’d walked into his room looking for reassurance and somehow left both of you bleeding instead.

“Goodnight,” you whispered weakly.

Michael’s lips parted slightly like maybe he wanted to stop you but nothing came out.

You turned before he could see you cry harder and rushed toward the bedroom door, yanking it open too quickly before slipping out into the hallway.

And immediately collided into someone.

“Oh, damn,” a familiar voice muttered softly.

Strong hands steadied your shoulders before you stumbled backward completely.

You looked up just enough to realize it was Jackie and your stomach dropped straight to the floor.

Jackie’s expression shifted instantly the second he saw your face. Concern replaced surprise almost immediately. “Hey,” he said gently. “You alright?”

You ducked your head fast, wiping at your cheeks. “Yeah. I’m fine.” It came out painfully obvious that you weren’t.

Behind you, Michael’s bedroom door still hung partially open.

Jackie glanced toward it once before looking back at you carefully. His voice lowered automatically. “You cryin’?”

“No.” You laughed weakly through tears. “I just.. I gotta go.”

You tried stepping around him quickly, desperate to make it to the stairs before anyone else saw you like this, but Jackie caught your arm gently before you could disappear down the hallway.

“Hey, hey,” he said softly. “Slow down.”

The kindness in his voice only embarrassed you more.

You turned your face away immediately, one hand covering your eyes now because the last thing you wanted was one of Michael’s brothers seeing you crying outside his room at one in the morning like some disaster of a girlfriend.

“I’m okay,” you insisted shakily.

Jackie didn’t let go, not forcefully but enough to stop you from bolting.

“You sure?” he asked quietly.

You nodded too fast. “Mhm.”

He sighed softly through his nose then glanced once more toward Michael’s room.

From inside, there was no sound at all.

That seemed to concern him even more.

“What happened?” he asked carefully.

“Nothing.” Your voice cracked instantly.

“Mm.” Jackie's tone turned gentler, almost knowing. “That usually means somethin’ happened.”

You let out a broken little laugh and covered your face harder. “Please don’t look at me right now.”

“Ain’t lookin’ at you funny.”

“I know, that’s the problem.”

That actually earned the faintest smile from him.

But it disappeared quickly when he noticed fresh tears slipping between your fingers.

“C’mere,” he murmured softly, pulling you a little closer before anyone else wandering the hallway could see. Protective instinct more than anything. “You don’t gotta hide your face.”

“Yes I do,” you mumbled miserably. “This is humiliating.”

“It ain’t humiliating to cry.”

“It is when your boyfriend’s entire family lives in this house.”

Jackie huffed a quiet laugh despite himself before his expression softened again. “You two fight?”

You stayed silent.

That was answer enough.

He rubbed your arm carefully. “Mike say somethin’ stupid?”

Your chest tightened instantly because somehow that would’ve been easier.

“No,” you whispered. “I think I did.. I suggested a break..”

He frowned slightly.

“Then he just..” Your voice broke again. “He looked at me like he gave up on me after that..”

The words hung heavy in the hallway.

And for the first time, Jackie’s face shifted from casual concern into something more serious. More understanding.

Because if there was one thing the Jackson family knew intimately, it was what happened when Michael got overwhelmed enough to disappear into himself.

He glanced toward the cracked bedroom door again before lowering his voice further.

“He in there right now?”

You nodded weakly.

He sighed quietly under his breath. “Lord.”

Fresh embarrassment crashed over you immediately. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Nah.” He shook his head gently. “You should’ve. Mike just…” He paused carefully, searching for the words. “He don’t handle feeling abandoned real good.”

Guilt stabbed straight through you.

You looked down instantly. “I wasn’t trying to abandon him..”

“I know.” Jackie squeezed your arm lightly. “But that boy hears ‘space’ and starts preparing for heartbreak immediately.”

Morning settled over the estate slowly, sunlight creeping through the curtains in pale gold stripes that stretched across Michael’s bedroom floor. Usually Michael liked mornings when the house was still half asleep. It was the only time the world ever felt quiet enough for him to hear himself think.

Today the silence felt cruel.

He’d barely slept.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face standing near the door with tears running down your cheeks while you said maybe we should take a break. The words looped in his head mercilessly, tangling themselves around every insecure thought he already carried around inside him.

Michael sat at the edge of the bed in his gray sweatpants and a faded t-shirt, elbows resting on his knees while he stared blankly at the carpet. One of your earrings still sat near the leg of his nightstand where you’d forgotten it weeks ago. Tiny. Gold. Meaningless probably.

But he couldn’t stop looking at it.

Downstairs, he could hear dishes clinking faintly in the kitchen and Janet laughing about something with one of his brothers. Life moving on like normal. Meanwhile his chest still felt hollowed out from the night before.

A quiet knock sounded against his half-open door.

Michael looked up tiredly to see Jackie leaning against the frame holding a mug of coffee.

“You alive in here?” Jackie asked softly.

Michael gave a weak shrug.

Jackie stepped inside carefully and handed him the mug before sitting in the chair near the window. “You look terrible.”

“Thank you.”

“Smell terrible too.”

That pulled the faintest smile from Michael for about half a second before it vanished again.

Jackie watched him quietly for a moment. “She make it home alright?”

Michael nodded once. “Called me around three.” His eyes dropped toward the coffee cup in his hands. “Just said she got home safe.”

“And?”

“And nothin’.”

The ache sitting beneath that one word made the room heavy.

Jackie leaned back in the chair with a quiet sigh. “Mike…”

“I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do.”

Michael’s jaw tightened slightly.

Jackie studied him carefully before speaking again. “You scared her last night.”

That made Michael look up immediately.

“What?”

“When you shut down like that.” He kept his voice gentle. “You disappear inside yourself and people don’t know what to do with you.”

Michael looked away again instantly.

He hated when his brothers were right.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t.”

The room fell quiet again.

Michael rubbed tiredly at his eyes before whispering, “I just got so tired all of a sudden.”

Jackie’s expression softened.

“That word…” Michael swallowed hard. “Break.” His voice nearly disappeared saying it. “It felt like she already had one foot out the door.”

Jackie nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“And I know she’s hurt and I know I’ve been gone too much but…” Michael’s chest tightened painfully. “I’m tryin’ so hard.”

The admission came out small. Almost embarrassed.

“I know you are,” His brother said quietly.

Michael laughed weakly under his breath and stared down into the coffee. “Funny thing is everybody thinks success feels good all the time.”

Jackie stayed silent.

“But lately it just feels like people pullin’ pieces off me all day.” Michael’s fingers tightened around the mug. “The label wants somethin’. Dad wants somethin’. The tour wants somethin’. Fans want somethin’.” His voice cracked slightly. “And then she wants more of me too and I don’t even know what parts are left anymore.”

The honesty of it sat raw in the room.

Jackie watched his little brother carefully now, concern deepening behind his eyes.

“You love her?”

Michael looked almost offended by the question.

“You know I do.”

“Then tell her that.”

“I do.”

“Nah.” Jackie shook his head once. “You say it. But you don’t slow down long enough to show it.”

Michael leaned back slowly against the bedpost, exhaustion dragging at every part of him now. “What if she leaves anyway?”

Jackie was quiet for a second before answering honestly.

“Then at least don’t make her leave wondering whether she mattered.”

By late afternoon, your home had started to feel suffocating. A beautiful and cozy place, Michael pays for it—but now everything in here reminds you of him.

It was too quiet. Every room seemed to echo with the fight from the night before, replaying itself in pieces no matter how hard you tried distracting yourself. You’d spent most of the day curled on the couch in oversized clothes with the television running low purely for background noise, though you couldn’t remember a single thing that had played.

Your eyes still felt swollen from crying.

You hadn’t heard from your Michael since the short phone call at three in the morning when he quietly asked if you’d gotten home safe. His voice had sounded so tired it haunted you afterward.

No “I love you.”

No “we’ll fix this.”

You were halfway through making tea you didn’t even want when a knock sounded at the front door.

Your stomach tightened instantly.

Nobody came by unannounced.

For a second you considered ignoring it entirely until the knock came again. Softer this time. Almost hesitant.

You set the mug down slowly before walking toward the door, confusion already twisting in your chest.

And the second you opened it, your breath caught.

Michael stood there in a black sweater, dark curls tucked beneath a cap pulled low over his eyes. A pair of sunglasses hid half his face despite the cloudy afternoon, but even exhausted and half disguised, he still looked unmistakably like himself. Too beautiful to be standing on your front porch looking nervous.

And in his hands sat a bouquet of flowers slightly crushed from how tightly he’d been holding them.

Behind him parked near the curb, a familiar car idled quietly while Bill leaned against the hood pretending very hard not to pay attention.

Michael looked at you carefully the second the door opened.

Like he was checking whether you’d slam it in his face.

“Hey,” he said softly.

You just stared at him.

He swallowed once before awkwardly lifting the flowers slightly. “I uh…” A tiny nervous smile flickered briefly across his mouth. “These looked prettier in the store.”

Your chest tightened instantly.

God.

He looked awful.

Not physically exactly. Just emotionally exhausted. The skin beneath his eyes looked darker than usual and there was something fragile in the way he stood there like he hadn’t fully decided whether he was welcome.

“What are you doing here?” you asked quietly.

Michael glanced down for a second before meeting your eyes again. “Can I come in?”

The softness in his voice nearly undid you immediately.

You hesitated just long enough for uncertainty to flash across his face.

“If you don’t want me here, I’ll go,” he added quickly. “I just…” He exhaled shakily through his nose. “I didn’t wanna leave things like last night.”

Your eyes burned instantly.

You stepped aside without another word.

The relief that crossed his face was subtle but devastating.

“Thank you,” he murmured softly as he stepped inside.

Behind him, Bill lifted a hand briefly in greeting before looking away again, giving both of you privacy without making it obvious.

Michael lingered awkwardly near the doorway once inside your house, suddenly seeming unsure what to do with himself. The flowers remained trapped carefully in his hands.

“I realized I didn’t know what kind you liked,” he admitted quietly. “So I just got…” He looked down at them vaguely. “A bunch.”

Despite everything, a weak laugh escaped you.

“Pretty smile,” he said softly the second he heard it.

The warmth in his voice made your chest ache.

You took the flowers from him carefully, fingers brushing his for half a second. Michael looked down at the contact immediately like even that tiny touch mattered more than it should’ve.

“I’m sorry for showing up unannounced,” he said after a moment. “I just couldn’t sit in that house anymore wondering if you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you, Michael. Please.”

“I know.” He nodded faintly. “But last night…” His gaze dropped toward the floor. “You looked at me like maybe you could someday.”

The confession landed heavily between you.

Michael rubbed nervously at the back of his neck before finally looking at you again, softer now. “Can we talk?”

You nodded quietly and stepped further into the living room, clutching the flowers carefully against your chest while Michael followed a few steps behind. The tension between you hadn’t disappeared, but it had softened around the edges now. Less sharp and more fragile.

You set the flowers down on the kitchen counter before returning to the couch, suddenly unsure where to begin. Michael lingered standing for a second, watching you with tired eyes beneath the brim of his cap, and for a moment neither of you spoke.

Then quietly and shyly, he sat beside you.

Close enough that your knees brushed immediately.

The contact made both of you pause.

Michael’s gaze dropped briefly to your hand resting beside you against the couch cushion before he slowly reached for it, careful enough to give you time to pull away if you wanted.

You didn’t.

The second your fingers slid against his, something in his expression softened with visible relief.

His thumb brushed slowly across your knuckles once. Twice.

“I missed you today,” he admitted softly as he takes his sunglasses off.

Your throat tightened. “It’s only been a day.”

“Still missed you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your eyes sting instantly.

Michael looked exhausted up close. His curls were slightly flattened from the cap and there were faint shadows beneath his eyes that no amount of fame or beauty could hide. You hated knowing you’d contributed to that look.

But he looked at you the same way he always did.

Like you were something delicate he was trying not to break.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered finally.

His brows pulled together immediately. “For what?”

“For saying we should take a break.” Your voice wavered slightly. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

Michael stared at your joined hands quietly for a moment before speaking. “You scared me.”

“I know.”

“No, baby…” His voice dropped softer now. “I mean really scared me.”

Your chest ached immediately.

Michael turned slightly toward you on the couch, his fingers tightening gently around yours. “When you said that..” He swallowed once. “It felt like the room disappeared underneath me.”

You looked down guiltily. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“I know.” His thumb brushed your hand again absentmindedly. “I just think sometimes…” He hesitated carefully. “Sometimes I already expect people to leave.”

The vulnerability in his voice nearly cracked your heart open.

Without thinking, you lifted your free hand to his face.

Michael immediately leaned into the touch.

The reaction was instinctive. Immediate. His eyes fluttered shut briefly while your fingers brushed softly along his cheekbone, and suddenly he looked so tired it hurt to see.

“You look exhausted,” you whispered. “My baby..”

He gave the faintest smile against your palm. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

That tiny confession seemed to comfort him more than it should have.

Michael turned his head slightly and pressed the softest kiss into the center of your palm before opening his eyes again. Warm brown met yours quietly, all guardedness stripped away now.

“I hate fighting with you,” he admitted.

You smiled weakly. “You got a little funky attitude last night.”

That earned the smallest huff of laughter from him. “You were workin’ my nerves.”

“You were working mine.”

“Mm.” His mouth twitched slightly. “Still prettier than me when you’re mad though.”

You rolled your eyes softly, but the familiar smoothness of his flirting finally pulled a real smile from you.

“There she go,” he murmured warmly the second he saw it.

Michael shifted closer after that until his shoulder rested fully against yours. His hand never left yours once. If anything, he seemed more attached to it now, fingers intertwined tightly like he was scared the second he let go, distance would come back again.

“I meant what I said,” he whispered after a while. “About trying harder.”

You looked at him quietly.

“I know the tour’s happening,” he continued softly. “I know things are about to get crazier. But I don’t want you feeling lonely while you’re with me.” His gaze dropped briefly. “That ain’t love.”

Emotion tightened your throat again.

“You make me feel loved,” you said quietly. “Just.. wish I didn't have to share you so much...”

“I know.” His voice lowered almost to a whisper. “I wish I had more of you too..”

You reached up again, brushing curls gently away from his forehead beneath the cap. Michael watched you carefully the entire time with this soft, aching look in his eyes.

Then quietly, “Can I kiss you?”

The fact he still asked made your chest ache all over again.

You nodded once.

Michael leaned in slowly, one hand lifting carefully to your jaw while his lips met yours with this deep tenderness that felt almost apologetic. Just soft and lingering and full of everything neither of you had managed to say right the night before.

You kissed him back immediately.

And the second you did, Michael exhaled shakily against your mouth like he’d been holding his breath since you walked out of his room.

His thumb stroked gently beneath your jaw while he kissed you again slower this time, forehead brushing yours afterward when neither of you fully pulled away.

“Yummy,” he whispered softly.

You smiled faintly through burning eyes. “Don’t..”

Michael looked at you for a long moment after that before leaning in once more just to press another small kiss against the corner of your mouth because apparently he couldn’t help himself now that he had you close again.

“Come with me. On tour.”

Can we talk about the third gif? About how Gabriel looks at Sebastian as he gently strokes his thumb along his neck? I think I have to grab onto something because I will faint...🫠