21y finally have something to say here. she/her, welcome to my blog, it's just a bunch of thing i found funny, important, or like for some reason. Make yourself confortable, please đ (i going to try use hastags, but i still learning đđđ)
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I am begging you. Please learn about stress/discomfort tolerance. Practice raising it. You need this to survive. If someone online can ruin your day with a throwaway comment, you desperately need to understand discomfort tolerance and consciously, systematically build that shit.
Also! Stress tolerance is such an important skill that having a learning disability in that area is a major symptom of a whole lot of other disabilities/mental illnesses! Struggling with it is a huge part of life! It sucks!
Am I saying everyone with misophonia needs to listen to chewing noises all day? No. But you need to find ways to tolerate it enough that you don't treat others like shit if they make a mouth noise near you.
No, you don't have to read the fic with your trigger tags. But you do need to be able to handle scrolling past the tags without being upset.
It is hard! But not having it also makes you so so so easy to manipulate. That grandma is racist AF because her mom raised her to be uncomfortable around black people and she never fought that discomfort. Trans people make so many cis people uncomfortable and that discomfort turns into bigotry real fast.
Letting your discomfort dictate your actions and beliefs about things is a great way to become a terrible person. Learn. Discomfort. Tolerance.
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i wanna know your thoughts plsss share what you think each era would be like when it comes to jealousy. otw i imagine would feel jealousy with insecurity, similar to how you portrayed him in woof. but for the eras i can't quite imagine it đ
( pre ) off the wall â insecurity & self image. :(
michael handling jealousy during this era is actually quite sad I feel like. at this point in his life, heâs still a baby in his late teens to early twenties, so his emotional maturity hasnât completely developed yet. immature but in an inexperienced sense. he isnât the type to openly admit when something hurt him and heâll to internalize it. michael wouldnât ever outright express his feelings about how he feels, he would bottle it up completely and beat himself up over it. and i think it could make him codependent on his loveâespecially his first love/girlfriend.
the sad part is that he might not even recognize it as dependency? heâd probably think âoh i just miss her.â âoh i just like being around her.â âoh i just wanted to talk.â
this version of michael.. i think is the sweetest, yes. but i think it could get very ugly, very fast. because the jealousy isnât just about you getting friendly with another guy but it could be him feeling threatened by your friends, family or anyone who has close access to you.
thriller â traditional & could also be work related.
okay. he's around 24-26? heâs more confident professionally but more guarded personally, and his level of fame is definitely distorting personal relationships in his life. so, heâs also becoming increasingly private and increasingly accustomed to keeping uncomfortable feelings to himself.
i feel like if he were jealous, i donât think his first instinct would be confrontation. it would be observation. heâs a virgo.
heâd watch.. notice. who made you laugh. how long you spoke to somebody. whether you seemed excited to see them. whether your face changed when they walked into the room. the problem is that he would probably collect evidence long before he ever discussed it. so heâs stewing in it đ which in turn could heavily affect his mood and you would have to deal with his attitude.
also! i could see during this time, heâd be very jealous and competitive if youâre also famous (and under the same label). i can see him becoming weird around it. a little too interested in chart positions. a little too interested of sales numbers. a little too quick to ask how a performance went. but heâs NOT rooting against you. he wants to know where he stands. like imagine you win something but he was nominated in the same category, right? everyone expects michael to be thrilled. and he is.. but later that night he's quiet at the after party dinner (in his shades) because he hates that some ugly little part of him spent thirty seconds wishing it had been him. then he feels guilty and now heâs dealing with jealousy, competitiveness, and shame simultaneously.
bad to dangerous â greedy & a little entitled.
hmm.. he would really only be jealous because he wants your time. he misses you. heâs so busy all the time and obviously you have your own life and your own things going on. but, iâm not going to lie.. he does expect you to up and drop everything for him when heâs finally free.
which i understand to an extent. but also, at this point of his life and career, heâs overly famous. so this can definitely read as him being a spoiled brat whoâs out of touch with reality. heâs been surrounded by yes men for a while so when you donât say yes to him.. he feels some kind of way.
now he has questions. whatâs more important than him? why canât you do this for him? a temper tantrum basically.
history â self sabotage.
very different vibe and it makes me sad so iâll make it short. heâs older, more isolated, far more scrutinized, and has years of betrayals, public attacks, lawsuits, and immense pressure on him. so, jealousy stops looking like sulking in the corner at twenty something. its fully self sabotage.
when he sees something that he doesnât like (could be you getting close to another man, or having friendships he thinks is taking you away from him) that insecurity can become anticipatory? and he doesnât wait for the abandonment HE thinks is coming, he braces for it and even helps jumpstart it by actively pushing you away.
it does feel like youâre being punished for something but in his mind heâs protecting himself. not saying that how he handles it is justified but. yeah.
mature â older man who canât control you.
he knows perfectly well heâs being unreasonable. he just doesnât like it, at all. i imagine you, his wife, being younger than him. you might be confident, independent, very social. all things he loves about you but.. not when other men also are smitten with you for the same reasons.
but thatâs what makes his mature era jealousy interesting. because it isnât insecurity in the traditional sense. itâs investment and he has more to lose now. he knows it too.
he finally, finally found his life partner. he cannot lose that.
michael would probably hate being jealous too. deadass hate it. he finds it embarrassing and yet there it is following him around because no amount of age or wisdom completely eliminates that feeling.
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Ë ŕźâĄ âď˝ĄË mature!era Michael who loves when you stay up late with him even when youâve had a long day just to listen to him vent about any and everything. Lying your head on his chest and listening to his relaxed heartbeat while his hands rested on your back was your favorite part
Ë ŕźâĄ âď˝ĄË mature!era Michael who appreciated the little things you did for him. Like playing some of your favorite songs by him just so he could dance with you, it always brought him out of whatever mood he was in
Ë ŕźâĄ âď˝ĄË mature!era Michael that loved how resilient you were. No matter what the media said about you and Michaelâs relationship you never left his side. Always stood ten toes down behind him. Even losing your cool occasionally on paparazzi
Ë ŕźâĄ âď˝ĄË mature!era Michael that truly believes he got lucky with you and not the other way around. Believing that you were his gift from above. Still not understanding how he found someone so beautiful, yet humble and gentle. Being so understanding to his every need and lifestyle
Ë ŕźâĄ âď˝ĄË mature!era Michael who at times grew jealous when he thought about the age gap between the two of you. Every once in a while entertaining thoughts of some âyounger and muscularâ guy coming in and stealing you away. But you were always quick to put this rumor to bed, giving Michael the reassurance he needed
Ë ŕźâĄ âď˝ĄË mature!era Michael who loved when you would ride him until his face was flustered and he begged for more. Your capability of keeping up with his high sex drive.
Ë ŕźâĄ âď˝ĄË mature!era Michael who loved those late nights when only the two of you were awake so it gave you the opportunity to have sex anywhere in the home. Places like in front of the fireplace, the balcony, shower sex, and even bending over the kitchen counter in back shots
Ë ŕźâĄ âď˝ĄË mature!eraMichael who has a secret kink for bending you over his knee and spanking you whenever you catch an attitude with him or try to ignore him
Ë ŕźâĄ âď˝ĄË mature!era Michael loves when you go lingerie shopping just so you can return home and model it for him before he rips it off
Ë ŕźâĄ âď˝ĄË mature!era Michael who loves being capable of making you orgasm just by the way he sucks your nipples. Loving the way you moan his name and cry out for more
A/N: I could literally go on with these for days but Iâll leave it here đŤŚ
Pairings: Pre Off the Wall era! Michael x Wife! Reader
Warnings: Loss of virginity, minor insecurity, overstimulation, Michael loses control, squirting, he has a praise kink, michael talks you through it.
Synopsis: Long into your first night together as man and wife , Michaelâs sweet touch evolved into an unstoppable hunger.
Wc: 1,569
The air in the grand ballroom was thick with the scent of expensive lilies and old-world perfume. The year was 1978, and the wedding of the decade had just concluded. Michael looked breathtaking in his white tuxedo, his eyes never leaving you as you glided across the dance floor. To the world, he was the superstar, the voice of a generation, but as he pulled you flush against his chest for their first dance as husband and wife, he was just a man trembling with a desperate, overwhelming love for you.
As the music slowed, both of your family members began to filter out, leaving the two of you alone in the dim, golden light of the reception hall. The silence that followed was heavy with anticipation. Michael didnât let go⌠instead, he slid his hand down to the small of your back, pressing your hips firmly against his. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.
"I thought I was going to die during the vows," he whispered, his voice a soft, melodic vibration that sent shivers down your spine. "All I could think about was getting you alone. I want to feel every inch of you. I want to take you."
He began to move with you, not a dance anymore, but a slow, sensual grind. His hand wandered lower, cupping your rear and squeezing firmly, pulling you into the hard bump of his cock through the fabric of your wedding dress. You let out a soft moan, and the sound seemed to break something inside him. Michael whimpered, a small, needy sound, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
"Please," he breathed, his voice cracking. "Tell me you want me as much as I want you. I'm shaking, baby... I need you so bad."
The honeymoon house was a secluded haven where the rest of the world ceased to exist. In the master bedroom, the moonlight spilled across the silk sheets in pale, shimmering ribbons, casting a ghostly glow over the two of you. Michael was a wreck of nerves, his movements tentative and shaking as he helped you out of your dress. His fingers fumbled with the fastenings, his breath hitching every time his skin brushed yours. When the fabric finally pooled at your feet and you stood before him completely naked, the sight of you made him gasp. He stepped back for a heartbeat, his eyes wide with pure, unadulterated adoration, looking at you as if you were a miracle he wasn't worthy of touching.
He laid you down gently, his touch light and almost reverent, as if you were made of the finest porcelain. As he began to explore your body, his lips trailing a path of fire down your stomach, his voice became a constant, needy stream of soft pleas. "Is this okay? Do you like this?" he whispered against your skin, his voice trembling. "Tell me you love me, baby... please, I need to hear it."
When he finally positioned his hard, throbbing cock at your entrance, he paused. He didn't just push in; he stopped, resting his forehead against yours, their breaths mingling in the quiet room. He was trembling violently now, the sheer emotional weight of the moment crashing over him. "I want this to be perfect for you," he whimpered, a small, broken sound of desperation.
As he slowly pushed inside, the searing tightness of your pussy walls gripped him firmly. Michael let out a long, shaky groan of pleasure and effort, his muscles locking as he sank deeper into your heat. You gasped, your fingers digging deep into the muscles of his shoulders, and the sound of your first moan triggered something primal and starving within him.
"Yes... please, yes, moan for me," he pleaded, his voice breaking. He didn't rush; he moved with an agonizing slowness, savoring every millimeter of friction, his breaths coming in ragged, needy whimpers. He wasn't just taking your innocence as you took his, he was worshipping it.
He spent what felt like hours just moving shallowly, the head of his cock teasing your entrance while he showered your face in kisses. He begged for reassurance, his voice a frantic whisper, asking if he was making you feel good, if you could feel how much he loved you. His heart hammered like a trapped bird against your chest, the rhythm accelerating as the tension built to an unbearable peak. When he finally lost control, he drove deep one last time, spilling his warm cum inside you with a loud, desperate cry of your name that echoed through the velvet silence of the room.
Long into the night, the sweetness evolved into a hunger. Michael had discovered how sensitive your body was, and it had become an obsession. He found you in the kitchen getting a snack, and before you could speak, he had you hoisted onto the counter, your night dress pushed up to your waist.
He didn't go for the penetration immediately. He spent an hour with his tongue, licking and sucking your clit with a rhythmic intensity that had you screaming. He was vocal, moaning loudly into your folds, whimpering when you arched your back.
"You're so wet for me... look at how much you want it," he gasped, looking up at you with blown-out pupils. When he finally slid inside, the friction was electric. He began to pump into you with a newfound urgency, his voice cracking as he begged you to tell him how good it felt. He pushed you to the edge over and over, refusing to let you finish until he had you sobbing his name, finally letting you peak in a violent explosion that left him shaking and spent.
By the next morning, Michaelâs stamina had become tireless. He didn't just want sex, he wanted to consume you. He trapped you against the bedroom wall, his hands gripping your thighs and hoisting them around his waist.
"I can't get enough of you," he whimpered, his voice strained. "I need to be inside you every second of every day."
He fucked you with a raw, desperate energy, his hips slamming against yours with wet, slapping sounds. He was constantly talking, his singer's voice modulating between deep growls and high, needy whimpers. "Tell me I'm yours... tell me you'll never leave me."
He discovered that by flicking your clit while thrusting deep, he could make you lose control. You came three times in a row, your body shaking, but he didn't stop. He kept driving into you, his eyes locked on yours, obsessed with the way your walls clamped around him. He filled you to the brim, his cum pulsing deep inside you as he sobbed into your shoulder, overwhelmed by the intensity of his bond with you.
The obsession had shifted into something more intense. Your body had become so attuned to him that the mere sight of him made you ache. Once afternoon came, he walked into the room and simply brushed his hand against your inner thigh, you let out a sharp gasp.
When he pushed you back onto the bed and entered you in one smooth, deep thrust, the sensation was too much. The instant your walls closed around his cock, you screamed, your body snapping into a violent orgasm. A huge spray of fluid erupted from you, soaking his thighs and the sheets.
Michael froze, his eyes widening. "Did you... did you just cum from me just entering you?" he whispered, his voice trembling with excitement.
He didn't pull out. He began to move, and every single thrust triggered another wave. You were squirting uncontrollably, the bed becoming a lake of your juices. Michael was losing his mind, whimpering and moaning with every splash, his voice breaking as he realized he had total control over your pleasure. "You're so sensitive... my sweet, sensitive girl. I'm going to make you squirt until you're empty."
The final stage of his obsession was the desire to leave a permanent mark. He pinned you to the plush carpet of the living room, his eyes dark with a singular focus. He didn't just want pleasure; he wanted a family.
"I hmm- want to fill you," he whimpered, his voice a soft, needy rasp. "I want eighteen children, baby. Eighteen little versions of us. I need to fill you until your belly is round and you can't think of anything but my seed inside you."
He entered you with a brutal, possessive force, pushing deep into your cervix. Every time he hit that spot, you creamed, lubricating his cock as he hammered into you. He was vocal, pleading and begging, his voice cracking. "Please, take it all... take every drop. I want to plant a baby in you right now. Tell me you want my babies! Tell me you want to me to fill you!"
He didn't stop even when you were shaking from overstimulation, pushing through your climaxes with a relentless rhythm. As he reached his peak, he gripped your hips so hard he left bruises, letting out a loud shout as he unloaded a massive amount of cum deep inside your womb, whimpering with a mixture of love and lust, promising to do it again and again until his dream of eighteen children was a reality.
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HOLY you guys are genuinely so weird with maddie and jaafar
âhe looks uncomfortable đĽşâ itâs been stated heâs shy.. heâs being shy, itâs a public event, HES GOING TO BE SHH
âitâs weird theyâve been together and are only now engagedđ đ â or âtheyâve been engaged for 2 years now why arenât they marriedâ not everyone springs into marriage, we donât know what they had going on in their relationship previously, we donât know what dynamic they have, we donât know what they planned for themselves and their relationship, stop with this weird parasocial behaviour. Youâre all fucking weird as shit.
Jaafar is a grown ass man, he doesnât need randoms online nitpicking his long term relationship just because theyâre jealous, because THATS what it is, jealously. youâre all tryna make it out like youâre concerned sheâs using him for the Jackson money and whatever but when it really boils down to it, youâre all jealous
âIâd be weirded out if my partner went with me to every eventâ well good for you, not everyoneâs the same, itâs natural to want your partner to be there with you when youâve reached major achievements, and itâs natural to wanna be there. Itâs NORMAL for a long term couple to be there for/with one another. Step out of this parasocial paradox youâve found yourselves in
You do this with every new upcoming male actor and their girlfriends. Itâs fucking disgusting
Hi! Ok umm the cute fic I had in mind is thriller era michael x reader. The reader is friends with Michael, who is very affectionate towards her calling her baby, kisses etc. in his mind he believe they are dating since he treats her like his girl (had all theyâre firsts together) but reader just thinks heâs an affectionate friend. She ends up going on a date and he finds out and gets angry and confesses theyâre dating and sheâs shocked and confused and he describes his feelings of why he believes theyâre dating each other. Srry if it doesnât make any sense.
clueless | michael jackson
- summary: thriller!michael has been your best friend for years. when he discovers you have a date with some random guy, he tells you he's actually been your boyfriend this whole time. go figure, huh?
word count: 8k
warning: reader is oblivious. like so freaking oblivious. jealous!mike, mildly like very mildly possessive undertones, first kiss flashbacks, im really bad at writing kissing scenes holy cow, pretty rushed and short, woman's failed attempt at writing angst!
* no usage of y/n, michael refers to reader as 'baby' practically every sentence
author's note: Oh my god first of all, to YOUU, REQUESTER, I'm so terribly sorry for taking so so long. It's been a whole week. I'm so, so sorry, I promise I never intended to take this long!!! It's just I've been working and then bam, writer's block! Again, I'm so sorry and if this doesn't go the way you wanted it to, I'M SO SORRY. I love you so much for requesting, I'm really honoured because I absolutely love your idea and this type of trope but I sincerely apologise if I don't do it justice.
Secondly, this is straight up word vomit, guys. Also, I've been writing some scenes when I was fighting sleep, so not really proofread! Thank you lovelies.
+++ ignore the plot holes please <3 michael is silly and so is the reader, let's focus on that instead of realism, okay?? <3
+++ english isn't my first language!! and I'm not a professional writer by any means!! I hope you enjoy regardless, thank you so much!
Nights at Michaelâs are always different from the nights in your own home.
Everything is always calmer, more gentle. The warmth of his home hugs you more than yours ever do, strangely enough.Â
Letting out a heavy sigh, you sink further into the comfortable sheets of Michael's bed as the television plays a rerun of Roman Holiday. This is practically a nightly routine for you, almost every night of the week has you ending up in Michael's house, as per his wishes. You have an apartment of your own, but Michael deems it unnecessary as you spend most of your time out of work with him anyway. You're aware he's been close to going to the landlord on behalf of you to discuss moving out, twice, but you're also aware he's not stupid enough to actually do anything behind your back.Â
If you donât know any better, youâd think itâs pretty odd to be so close to someone you met by pure coincidence. But the thing is you do know better. And it's that youâd never trade your friendship with Michael for anything else the world has to offer.
You and him have been friends for a good few years now, having met him just a little before his 'Off The Wall' album release. Accidentally bumping into the then-twenty year-old-star in a record store of all places, a few apologies were exchanged before your eyes noticed the Donna Summer album in his hands. That led to further conversations ranging from talking about how good Donna Summer's latest single is, to Michael showing you the Bee Gees album he's planning on purchasing, and somehow ends with you playing a record of Blondie's on the store turntable to make him listen to the B-sides.
It was a whole hour and a half before a burly looking gentleman kindly reminded Michael he had other affairs to tend to, and after eagerly sharing each otherâs contact details, you got home urgently to listen to the newly bought records of Jackson Five.Â
From then on, you've been calling and exchanging letters with Michael non-stop. Postcards from the different states heâs touring in, long distance telephone calls when his shows end, and everything in between. He finds a way to contact you so often that when his mother knew of you, she asked you to come over for one of their family gatherings. That's likely when it's been established that you and Mike are pretty much best friends.Â
You were lucky enough to witness Michael at his most focused when he was working on final touches to Off The Wall, changing musical tunes during late nights in the studio. Memories of celebrating with him when said album won the Grammys, as well as the AMAs. Thereâd even been numerous times where you got to come to his shows during the Triumph Tour with his brothers. Itâs been well over four years since you met, and at this point heâs the only person to truly know you inside and out.
A quick snap out of your thoughts when the bathroom lights turn off, and Michael steps out as he dries his curls with a towel. Heâs been out the whole day doing⌠whatever it is pop stars do during their spare time, only reaching home about half an hour after you already made yourself a cup of tea to heal from a long day at the diner. You donât even know how it got to the point where you can just waltz into Michaelâs home without him even being there, but itâs better not to question much about it.Â
Michael walks around the bedroom, shifting things as he gets ready for bed. Glancing at you, his eyes soften. "Tired, baby?" He asks gently.Â
"Mhm," you hum in response, sinking further into the blankets. "Had the worst customers today. I don't even care about the no tipping, yâknow? The thing thatâs bugging me is why the hell were they drinking fifteen shots of espresso at 9.30PM? And God... One of them had a rat-tail, Mike. I sure hope it doesn't become a thing because it's just so unfortunate to witness."Â
A soft chuckle escapes him, warming your heart. You continue ranting, âMike, that one mean woman who comes for coffee every lunchtime? She got to the diner late, and then proceeded to blame me for making her late because by the time her food arrived, her break was almost ending. Can you even believe that?âÂ
Michael clicks his tongue, getting on the bed. Making himself comfortable, he pulls you in and wraps his arm around your back, your head laying atop his chest. "I told you to please just stop working there. I can take care of you, baby. You know that. We'd be just fine and you can do whatever it is you want."Â
Shaking your head vehemently, you nudge at his chest. "No way, Mike. I can handle myself. I'm a responsible adult. I'm a strong, independent woman, y'know?"Â
"I know you are, beautiful. I'm just tellin' you that I can help while you look for somethin' you'd actually enjoy. Not that horrible diner place. You deserve so much better," Michael says as he leaves soft kisses on your temple.Â
You melt at his touch and close your eyes. Murmuring, "Thank you, Mikey. It's just hard leaving Daisy all by herself. The others are so mean to that poor kid."Â
"Hell, I'll hire her for somethin' if it means you're out of that damn place," Michael grumbles as he shifts and pulls you closer.Â
Snickering quietly, you hush him before kissing his jaw, "That's enough out of you, hm?âÂ
âI'm serious, sweetheart. That job is stretching you thin, and I'm not liking any second of it. I'm just worried about you,â Michael looks at you with furrowed brows, thumb stroking your cheek.Â
Michael has never not worried about you, you think. The man has protective tendencies towards everyone he cares for, but it's been noted by many that whenever you're in the picture, it's as if it gets dialed up to the maximum level. One of the most insane things he's done so far was that he had three extra secure locks installed at your front door when you first moved into your apartment, and despite it being against the rules, the landlord couldn't really argue with the Michael Jackson over his loved one's safety.Â
You respond quietly, âI know, Michael. Don't worry too much. I got everything handled, okay? I'm looking for job openings as we speak.âÂ
âIf you'd just consider the fact that I know many people in all kinds of businesses, babyââÂ
âNo,â you cut him off, shaking your head. âUh-uh, I'm not doing this again. Mikey, I don't want to take advantage of you for this. I'm doing this myself because that's the right thing to do.âÂ
âIt's not taking advantage, it's called networking,â Michael sighs.Â
Shaking your head again, you shift to make yourself more comfortable against his chest. âNo helping, Michael. Not unless I'm absolutely desperate. Which I'm not⌠yet.âÂ
He sighs again, silent for a moment before kissing your head. âFine. But I'm tellin' you right now. The minute you want to quit, go on ahead and don't hesitate. You got me, you know that right?âÂ
âYes, I do.â A small smile forms on your face, eyes closing slowly. âGoodnight, Mike.âÂ
"Goodnight, baby," he wishes, shifting down slightly as he gives a peck on your lips before burying his head into your neck. Murmuring softly, âLove you.â Â
âLove you,â you reply, already out of it. The roomâs silence filled with only the sounds of you and him breathing in sync, and the TV playing the end credits of Roman Holiday.Â
Despite the quiet, your mind races.Â
Okay. You're aware of how it seems between the both of you. Itâs been mentioned by a few who witness your dynamic and youâre aware of how weird and frankly, even disturbing for friends to be this close. Cuddling is one thing, but kissing on the lips and saying âI love youâs are on a totally different level. It doesn't really occur to you when that has evolved. As far as you're concerned, he just started calling you sweet names one day and became more physically needy than usual.Â
It happened around after he returned from his tour in Europe, so you figured they really weren't joking about how Europeans are more touchy. Well, that's what the travel magazines say anyway.Â
With that, you leave it be. In retrospect, you're never one to turn down any physical affection from Michael. And deep down you know it gives you butterflies, but you remind yourself daily to just ignore it.
So you do. Remind yourself, that is. Without fail.Â
It gets a lot more difficult each day, if you're being honest with yourself. On some days, it feels almost impossible. Especially when he gets so touchy and soft. Holding your waist as he talks to his brothers. Firmly holding your hand when he walks down the studio hallways. Even during the little days when he has free time and instead of doing something more worthwhile with someone more important, he'd persuade you to come stay at his house and play all kinds of board games.
You beat him at Connect Four every time, by the way.Â
Once having realized the risk of this becoming a huge problem if you don't handle the⌠pool of feelings swirling in your gut⌠and how it would lead to everything crumbling down, you knew you had to do something.
That's why, after much pressure from your boss, Janine, you're going on a blind date with her nephew.Â
âHe'll be just the perfect man for you, doll,â she said to you so excitedly. In fact, so excitedly that you couldn't really turn her down. It's set for the day after tomorrow, and you still haven't told Michael.
Make it work first, see the guy first. See how things go before saying anything to Mike. That's your plan. It'd be a waste of time if the date didn't work out and you got Michael's hopes up regarding your love life for no reason at all.
How on Earth would you even start? Michael knows you're not exactly the type of person to go on just any blind date. He'd ask. And what could you answer? That you're falling in love with him more every single day that passes? That you're only doing this to get over it?Â
Absolutely not.
â˘
Mornings with Michael are always the epitome of domesticity at its finest. Both of you are hanging around the kitchen. Michael is sitting at the kitchen island, with only intentions of accompanying you, who's currently craving a bowl of freshly sliced fruit.Â
âHey, baby? I'm gonna be home late again. Q called and said somethinâ about some adjustments the album needs. You got anything planned for today?â Michael asks, eyes focusing on his book of notes. Hand gripping on a pencil, eager to underline or scratch words about whatever it is he's working on. He writes down any important pieces from meetings, or anything that comes to mind about a lyric or a tune. You call it his âbook of wondersâ, and Michael laughs it off with a shy blush every time.Â
âWhat more adjustments does it need? I think the album is already perfect!â You scoff.Â
Michael laughs quietly and shrugs, âI think he's gonna cut another song from the final tracklist. Been drivinâ me crazy with that.â
Pointing at him briefly, you press your words firmly. âDon't let him cut Billie Jean, Mike. I swear to God.âÂ
âI promise I won't. Not Billie Jean,â Michael snorts, âAnyway baby, your plans? For today?âÂ
You hum absentmindedly, too distracted with cutting up some apple slices for your fruit bowl. âIâm going out later. Thinking about doing some shopping.â You're off work today and tomorrow, so there's plenty of time to get ready and make yourself beautiful for the stranger you're about to go on a date with.Â
God, everything is so silly.
âOoh, somethinâ special going on? You never shop for yourself spontaneously. I always have to beg for you to do that,â Michael asks, getting up from his seat and walking up to you. Hands snaking around your waist, chin resting on top of your shoulder as he takes a gander on the bowl of fruit snacks you're making for yourself.Â
âLooks like heaven, doesn't it?â You ask with a teasing grin, gesturing towards the bowl.Â
âNo, angel. You do,â he replies with a kiss on your temple. âYou didn't answer my question.â
âOh, that. WellâŚâ You shrug, âMaybe, maybe not. We'll have to wait a bit and then you'll get your story, hm?âÂ
âHmm⌠Okay, I'll bite. I'll be waitinâ for some kind of update soon, okay?âÂ
âI promise,â you say.Â
Michael nods with a smile, tilting down and softly presses his lips against yours. Your heart lurches as you hesitantly kiss him back. Not two seconds later though, he pulls away with a grin when a knock comes onto the door. âThat's Bill. Hold on, baby.âÂ
As he walks away, you take a minute to gather yourself. Breathing deeply, you groan at the delusional path your heart was heading down. What was that kiss? Jeez, Europe really did a number on him.Â
Turning back to the bowl of fruit, you rethink how good of an idea it is to actually go on this damn blind date.Â
â˘
âIâm telling you, Daisy, what if this is a bad idea?â You hiss in desperation into the telephone.Â
Youâre back in your own apartment, surrounded by messy piles of clothing. Itâs almost 10PM and the thing is, what you should be doing is some facial care before the date tomorrow, but instead youâre currently freaking out on Daisy. You were supposed to be back at Michaelâs. But then. During your retail run, you belatedly realized itâs almost impossible to sleep at Michaelâs the night before your blind date.
One, he would try to heckle his way into knowing what youâre going to be up to.Â
Two, you would immediately give in to him and tell him everything.Â
Three, after all of that, heâd question your sudden urge to date.
And finally, youâd have to tell him youâre doing it to get over your stupid feelings for him.Â
Ruining your friendship with Michael would have to be the worst thing that you could do to your life.Â
So thatâs how you end up back in your own space, though the comfort you felt at Michaelâs is sorely missed. Picking up a nearby sweater, you throw it across the room to the âNoâ pile. âWhat if the date turns out really well but itâs just my subconscious self making it work to forget about Mike? That wouldnât be fair to Janineâs nephew.â
âOkay, first of all, if your subconscious self is making it work, thatâs a good thing. At least some part of you have an effort to try. Second, itâll be exactly perfect if you got over Michael. I mean⌠câmon, youâve been friends for years. If he hasnât made his move by now, then he never will.â
âWell yeah, but if I told you he kisses me almost every day, youâd probably be saying something different,â the thought runs through your head silently. Blinking away your delusions, you sigh, âWhat if Janineâs nephew thinks Iâm too breezy?â
Daisy laughs, âGirl, youâre not as breezy as you think you are. And even so, breezy is in now. Youâd be having him drooling all over yaâ.âÂ
A brief pause.Â
âYou keep saying âJanineâs nephewâ,â Daisy says, âGirl, do you even know what his name is?â
Shameful heat blushes your neck, grimacing silently, mind running to remember.Â
âUhm⌠Kevin⌠whatâs-his-name?â
Shrieking laughter from the other side of the telephone makes you flinch in shock. Youâre telling her off, whining as Daisy repeats to herself the word Kevin. âItâs Calvin, girl,â she corrects you, chortling unabashedly. âCalvin Johnson, Janineâs sisterâs son. Remember that before you embarrass yourself tomorrow night.â
âBut Daisy! What if itâs a bad idea?â
âListen to me. Calvin is also being set up, right? Heâs probably just as nervous as you are. And he doesnât know you yet. If you somehow donât hit it off, which I seriously doubt because, well, donât tell Janine this, but sheâs a killer matchmaker, I mean, hello? Douglas from the kitchen and Jake from the laundromat across the street? Who the heck expects that? Anyway, if you somehow donât hit it off, he wonât be hurtinâ and cryinâ in the ditch somewhere. Heâs fine, and so are you. Just do this.â
You bite your lip, âDaisyâŚâ
She immediately cuts you off. âThe main reason why youâre still apprehensive is because you want to know what Michael thinks. And he probably would not give you the input you secretly want. I love you, really I do, but itâs time to acknowledge the fact that nothing seems to be blossoming there. You deserve the world, babe... You can go try and gettinâ it yourself instead of waitinâ around for someone to give it to you.â
Listening to her gentle voice, you fiddle with the string of pearls on your corner table. Sitting back on the couch, looking at the mess in front of you while the words she says slowly take root in your mind. Daisy is right. Youâve spent years trying to hollow out your feelings, ignoring whatever is growing inside the crevices of your heartstrings whenever you look at Michael, forgetting those sneaky thoughts of what it would be like to have him as your boyfriend, husband, the lover of your life. All of that, youâve been pushing down so deep, and the fact that Michael is so openly and brazenly affectionate with you starts to feel a little insulting. Here you are, absolutely spiraling from every single touch shared, and yet, for him itâs just another friendly peck. Everything he does means the whole world to you, but why doesnât it seem to mean much to him?
Youâre aware youâre being unfair. Michael doesnât owe you anything. All he asks from you is a loyal companionship, be it in a platonic way. He never expressed intentions of something more, at least not officially. Itâs your own fault for developing feelings. You canât be mad at him.
You can never be mad at Michael. Not when all heâs done for you is provide love and unconditional support.Â
After a few more minutes of slow conversation with Daisy, you tell your goodbyes after reassuring her you wonât back out on the blind date. Heaving a deep sigh, you get up from the couch and start cleaning up your mess. Already deciding on what to wear for tomorrow night, youâre determined to never have to look at a piece of stray clothing ever again because it will absolutely slay you if you did. You havenât been this fashion anxious since forever ago. Having Michael as a friend has its perks, and one of them is receiving endless fashion tips; that actually works for you.Â
And obviously, Michael should be no such help for this particular instance.Â
The landline rings and you pick it up, half assuming itâs Daisy to convince you to not back out again. The girl has such little faith in you, you scoff.Â
âDaisy, I promiseââ
âItâs Michael.â
Your eyes widen briefly before a soft laugh escapes you, âOh, hey, Mike.â
âWhere are you?â he asks, voice sounding a little stiff. Momentarily freezing, your head tilts in confusion over his tone.
âIâm at home, why?â
âNo, youâre not. I know this because Iâm calling from home. I thought youâre staying here tonight?â Michael asks.
âOh, I thought youâre supposed to come home late tonight?â You ask him.Â
Michael replies with the same stiff tone, âI got out early, Q just wanted to get rid of Billie Jean and I chewed him off and got out of there before he could jump me. Baby, youâre not home. Why?â
âI meant Iâm at my home, Mike. And because I figured I had to stay here at least for tonight, the space is literally about to gather dust.â
âThatâs never stopped you before?â he argues.
Letting out a nervous laugh, you say, âMike, maybe itâs because I donât want you to get sick of meââ
âThatâs a bunch of bull, sweetheart. Câmon, whatâs happeninâ? Please, baby, tell me,â Michael pleads, voice almost upset. âYouâre supposed to be here with me. I want you here.â
You pinch the bridge of your nose, sensing the upcoming begging and persuading coming from him. Firmly reminding yourself that no matter what pretty words he says, youâre putting your foot down and not surrendering to him. Regardless how tempting it is.
How insanely tempting.
âIâm sorry, Mike. Itâs just so late already, you know?â You try to deflect.Â
âWho said anything about you drivinâ? Iâll get Bill to drive you, Iâll call him right nowââ
âWait, Mike, don't!" You exclaim. âPoor Bill needs his rest. And so do you. Mike, we can sleep apart for one night.â
âWe can but Iâd rather not, babyâŚâ he replies, almost completely quiet. âIs something the matter? You usually tell me when youâre not coming over.â
Slapping your palm to your forehead, you let out a soft gasp. âOf course! Oh, Mike, Iâm so sorry. It completely slipped my mind. I was too distracted from theâ from today! Iâm sorry, honey, I should have given you some kind of note.â
Michael hums, âThatâs okay⌠Just⌠Donât you want to come over?âÂ
Hearing his desperate tone, you almost stood up to grab your keys right then and there. Fighting against the strong urge, you sigh out and try to ignore the heavy guilt inside, âMike, Iâd love to but itâs late. Please rest. I promise Iâll see you the day after tomorrow okay?â
âWoah, hang on, why not just tomorrow?â
A tugging of your bottom lip, you think of what to say. You genuinely canât bring yourself to tell him the truth. You donât want to risk it. Not if heâs going to interrogate you until you confess your undying love for him. Gosh, your head feels as if itâs about to explode.
âBecause Iâm gonna be doing something tomorrow. Remember the little update?â
âWhy canât you just tell me now? Or tomorrow night?â Michael almost pleads.Â
âMike, please donât make this harder for me,â you tell him, whining. âI promise, promise, promise Iâll tell you the day after tomorrow. Please?â
A beat of silence.Â
âI canâtâŚâ he starts so timidly.
You hum in question, âYou canât what, Mike?â
A clearing of his throat before he replies, voice firmer, âNothing. Okay, baby. Iâll wait until the day after tomorrow to see you, but Iâm callinâ you tomorrow midnight. I need to hear your voice and I need to know youâre at home safe.â
âOkay, Michael. Thatâs very sweet of you.â
He only hums in response. Furrowing your brows, you ask him. âMike, are you alright?â
âI just miss you so much, baby,â he replies after a short second. He says it so earnestly, your cheeks warm up.Â
âWe just saw each other this morning,â you softly remind him with a laugh.
âI donât care.â
You smile softly, finger coiling with the landline wire. âI miss you too, Mikey. Iâll see you, okay?â
âDonât forget to call.â
âI wonât!â
âYou better not⌠Go to sleep. Goodnight, baby. I love you.â
âI love you too, Mike. Goodnight.â
Hanging up, you let out the deepest sigh you could muster. Plopping your head on the back of the couch and staring off into space, you wonder why Michael is taking it so hard about you sleeping in your own apartment.Â
â˘
Taking a sip from your wine glass, you smile politely as Kevâ Calvin tells his story. Sitting at a table for two in a fancy restaurant is honestly not what you expected, but when he stood in front of your doorstep dressed in a black suit and tie, that would have been your first hint. Youâre immediately relieved about choosing the dark, sleek dress that was purchased spontaneously the day before.Â
âAnd then my boss just went off on him, I did nothinâ but walk away, it was so bad,â he laughs. Calvin Johnson has a really cute laugh. He was pretty, too, you think. His hazel eyes gleam brightly and he knows how to land a joke. He orders good food and good wine. His voice is pleasant and deep. He dresses nice.Â
But⌠nothing. You feel absolutely nothing.
Here you are, dinner with the perfect gentleman who knows to compliment, and youâre feeling absolutely nothing. Your mind is just filled with thoughts of what Michael would have done if he saw the waiter passing by with mismatched neon socks, or what Michael would have ordered if the menu only consisted of fourteen different types of spaghetti, if he would have vomited and just starved altogether, or what Michael would have said to you when you pointed out the painting of the restaurantâs owner at the entrance that resembled Gene Kelly. Michael, Michael, Michael. Itâs like heâs taken over your life the more you try to forget about your feelings.Â
Youâre immediately being consumed by guilt at the thought of hurting Janine and her nephew. They are both really nice and warm people, and youâre returning the favour by playing games. Michael would have been so disappointed. He probably would enjoy talking to Calvin. Maybe if it doesnât work between you and Calvin, and youâre being real honest here, it definitely wonât, you could introduce him to Michael. They already have the musically talented section in common. Only Calvin was more towards classical instruments. Well, maybe they could read music sheets together.Â
Biting your lip, you realize youâre only thinking of things that include Michael to help you go through this date. And that only makes you feel worse. Youâre a terrible person.Â
â â Hey, are you okay?â
You slightly jump, wide eyes gazing back at Calvinâs concerned ones. âO-oh, yeah, yes! I am okay, Iâm so sorry. Iâm just so⌠full, I get a little breezy when Iâm, uh, full.â
Just pulling shit straight out of your ass.Â
He nods in acknowledgement, giving a small smile before he continues his story about⌠kangaroos or underoos. Either one.Â
You couldnât really focus on the rest of his story, not that you did in the first place, but this time the focus was actually elsewhere instead of inside your own head. Your eyes flicker to a few tables behind Calvin, and the familiar face catches you off guard. Slightly squinting, you try to make out who the person is, before pausing your breath. Itâs one of Michaelâs bodyguards, you think. Heâs newly appointed, but he seems nice. He has ginger hair and a small tattoo behind his ear, thatâs how you know itâs him. Tilting your head further to the side, you try to recognize the rest of the table heâs sitting at. Nerves racking, you hope with everything you have that Michael isnât there with them. But after seeing the whole table only has burly men laughing aloud, you realize theyâre just on their break. Michael gives them his card sometimes and tells them to get fancy dinners. This must be one of those nights where he wants to be completely and utterly alone. Your heart drops. Could something be bothering him? He was definitely off from the phone call last night.Â
Your eyes suddenly make contact with one of the guards, who looks just as dumbfounded as you are. It was the worldâs worst staring eye contest before you clear your throat. Averting your gaze, you force a smile as Calvin cluelessly continues his story.Â
That redhead is so gonna rat you out.Â
â˘
Returning home couldnât be any more relieving than it is now. Youâre leaning against the front door after closing it, sighing heavily. Thinking of moments prior.Â
âHey, listen⌠I had a wonderful time tonight. And I think you did, too. But just as friends, huh?â Calvin asks as he walks you to your doorstep. You only look at him with your mouth slightly agape, not knowing what to say.Â
He laughs, shrugging, âI only agreed because of Aunt Janine. And Iâm assuming you did too. That woman doesnât know how to take no for an answer, thatâs for sure.â
âShe sure doesn't,â you softly chuckle.Â
Calvin rubs his nape, looking at you with an almost sympathetic grin. âAnd uh⌠don't take this the wrong way, but I sincerely hope you don't go on another date with a stranger.âÂ
Trying to hide your offended face, you ask him. âWhy do you say that?âÂ
âBecause this whole night, I was just talkinâ your ears off but your mind is in a completely different place. I mean, I was talking rubbish towards the end, with the kangaroos and all. Not even a peep from you, because you're busy thinkingâŚâ he trails off, displaying a pitying look as you nervously fiddle with your fingers, looking away.Â
â... Of someone else, hm?âÂ
You don't respond, but you settle for a small smile. âYou're too understanding.âÂ
Calvin sighs deeply, âI know.â He says in a melancholic tone.Â
Laughing with him, you sigh and step closer to give him a kiss on the cheek. âThank you, Calvin. I'm so sorry this didn't work out. I'm sorry for not trying.âÂ
âEh, forget it,â he reassures you. âHonest. We wouldn't work anyway, I actually liked those risottos.âÂ
âThey were disgusting,â you tease back. Hugging Calvin a very short second, you let him off with a goodbye.Â
Which brings you to now, sighing like the world's biggest loser. You hated letting people down. It feels like you're hurting them on purpose, but it truly isn't your intention. You thought you'd get over your feelings for Michael at least a little.Â
Instead, the thing you want to do most right now is cuddle up against him.Â
You're thinking of the possible phrases on what your excuse could be if Michael asks what you've been up to today, not taking any chances that he wouldn't heckle. It's been a good two minutes since Calvin left your doorstep, and the date is being fast forgotten.
More so when a sudden knock comes down on your front door. You instantly know it's not Calvin. This one felt too comfortable, familiarâŚ. Intimate.
You must be imagining things.Â
Walking back to the door, you take a look at the peephole. And lo and behold, Michael's standing right at your doorstep. His face unreadable.Â
As you open the door, you force a bright grin onto your face. âMichael, heyââÂ
âWho's he?â Michael asks sharply. Almost robotic. His body tense, jaw clenched ever so slightly.
âHm?â You hum in response, tilting your head in confusion.Â
âThe guy you were just with,â he quietly adds, walking into your apartment.Â
You realize what he's talking about and let out an âOhâ. âThat's Janine's nephew,â you answer.Â
Michael just looks at you with a deep gaze. Murmuring hoarsely, he says to you, âCâmon, baby⌠don't play with me like this. Not right now.âÂ
âMichael, I'm telling the truth, that is Janine's nephew. His name's Calvin.âÂ
âCalvinâŚâ he scoffs before turning around to pace back and forth in your living room. Meanwhile, you get more and more confused.Â
âWhat, you went on a date with him or somethinâ?â Michael asks you shakily.
Well, the cat's definitely out of the bag, but Michael's reaction is not one you're expecting in any way, shape or form.Â
âY-yes, I did⌠Come on Mikey, what's going on?âÂ
He gives you the most incredulous look he's ever given anyone. âWhat's going on? Are you actually asking me that? What's⌠What's wrong with you?âÂ
Hurt strikes through your chest at his words. Michael has never, ever been rude or said anything harsh like that towards anyone, least of all you.
Why is he talking like that to you? And why does it hurt so much with the way he's being so⌠different?
âWhat did I do, Mike?â You ask in a small voice, hugging yourself nervously.
âOh no, no, no, you don't get to be upset, I'm upset,â he says with glassy eyes staring back at you. You almost gasp at the sight, his hurting can be seen as clear as day. Michael continues, âYou were on a date with a rando? What, did you think I wasn't gonna find out? And you're soâ so casual about it, do you even care at all?âÂ
âMike, what's⌠It's one date, Michael, what could be the issue? Please tell me why you're so bothered!âÂ
âWhy the hell do you think I'm bothered?âÂ
âI don't know! It's just one date and you're not even my boyfriend, so tell me, Mikey, please.âÂ
Michael throws his arms in the air, âOh, sure! Just one would be fiâ wh-what? I'm sorry?âÂ
âWhat?âÂ
âWhat did you say?âÂ
âIt's just one date!âÂ
âNo,â Michael whispers, shaking his head. âAfter that⌠what did you mean by that?â
Tilting your head, you furrow your brows. âMike?âÂ
He suddenly walks right up to you, hands slowly coming up to cradle your face. âI'm not⌠your boyfriend?âÂ
â ⌠No?âÂ
Michael's eyes flutter, pain being etched on every surface of his face. âAre you breakinâ up with me, baby?âÂ
âWhat?â You ask with a soft voice, eyes widening. âWhen did we get together?â
âWhat?âÂ
âWhat?â You repeat, starting to breathe really hard. Michael gives you an astounded look, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek. His lips part in surprise, and it appears as if his brain is taking an extremely long time to register your words.Â
âWhat do you mean when did we get together?âÂ
Close to crying, you whine softly, âMichael, I don't follow!âÂ
Michael clenches his jaw, eyes boring into yours as his brows furrow deeper. âBaby, this isn't funny.âÂ
âI'm not trying to be funny!â You reply.Â
âThen what are you talking about? I am your boyfriend!â
âSince when?â You ask loudly, eyes getting wider by the second.Â
His jaw only drops further in response, head shaking repeatedly. âShe's joking,â he murmurs softly to himself. You deny it again, strongly needing to know what the hell is actually going on.Â
âWell, baby,â Michael starts with a bewildered look on his face, âI happen to think we got together since I started callinâ you baby every day and how you're practically livinâ with me because I don't think I can actually sleep without you anymore, oh and I almost forgot, we're kissinâ damn near all the time!âÂ
You stand there, yet another dumbfounded look on your face. âI just thought you took home some European customs,â is the only thing you could say in a small voice.Â
âWhat?â Michael asks again, another confused facial expression before he sighs and pulls you close. âBaby⌠you're telling me this whole timeâŚ?âÂ
You shake your head, hand coming up to softly stroke his jaw. âI didn't know anything. God, I'm so sorry, Mikey. I mean, I mean what am I supposed to think? You never asked me about itâ you didn't clarify anything, did you?âÂ
âI thought in a way, you knew!âÂ
You ask softly, âHow could I have known?âÂ
Michael looks away, arms still wrapped around you. âOkay⌠Iâm sorry. Iâm really sorry for yelling because now Iâm just rethinking everything⌠I was a stupid twenty year old. Remember how we kissed for the first time?âÂ
Heat rises to your cheeks at the memory. Yes, you certainly did.
By then, both of you have been friends for about a few months. It was late at night, and you were sleeping over at his family house. It was just you two in front of the television, everyone else having already gone to bed. The time was nearing 1.30AM when the movie finally ended.Â
âMike, I told you we should have just rewatched Dog Day Afternoon.â
âHow was I supposed to know it was gonna be that bad?â He snorts as he places the half eaten bowl of popcorn on the coffee table.Â
Laughing, you lean back on the couch and make yourself comfortable. Turning to him, you ask. âWe went straight for the movie earlier, I never got to ask you how your day was.âÂ
Michael sighs and closes his eyes, making you frown in concern. Reaching out to softly grip his hand in between you two, you give a small smile.
âWanna talk about it?âÂ
He shrugs, looking elsewhere. âI don't know, it's justâŚâÂ
âNew album jitters?â You try, knowing how under the pressure he's been, with Off The Wall about to be released in a few days. If someone were to ask you how dedication was to be presented in real life, you'd point instantly to the man next to you. You've never seen someone so passionate about what they do as much as Michael is with his music.Â
â... No, it's not that,â he laughs softly. âI mean, I'm nervous about that too, but tonight is different. It's just my brothers. They wouldn't stop ragging on me earlier.âÂ
Pulling your knees to your chest, you tilt your head. âWhy? What's the matter?âÂ
âI had them listen to the final picks for the album, and theyââÂ
âIf they didn't like it, that's their problem. The album is perfect!â You cut him off, already raging at the thought. Youâve always been his number one supporter and defender.
Michael laughs again, shaking his head. âNo, no, they were real supportive about that⌠it's just the fact that I've uh, I've been singing about, yâknow⌠romance and all.âÂ
You nod, and raise your brow when he doesn't continue. âAnd?âÂ
He sighs after what felt like forever, âWell it's silly... because I've never even had my first kiss yet, so.âÂ
âMichael, that's okay. Me neither.âÂ
Eyes widening, he sputters out, âYou haven't?âÂ
âNo,â you laugh. âIs that so unbelievable for you?âÂ
Yes, he happens to find it completely unbelievable because you're so gorgeous all the time. Boys were bound to try something on you. Now once he's realising nobody's ever come close, he feels a sense of happiness. Happy that nobody came close. That she rarely gives her time of day for anyone. And he happens to be one of the few exceptions.Â
He only shrugs in response to your question before shifting closer. âDoes it bother you?âÂ
Shaking your head, you smile at him. âNot really. I'm not dying to be kissed. I know it's gonna happen when it happens. There's no use dwelling on it. But then again, I don't have brothers, nor am I releasing songs about romance.âÂ
âYeah, they really did their thing when I Can't Help It played,â Michael grumbles.Â
Softly giggling, you grip onto his hand more firmly. âDon't let them get to you. You have so many girls that've been wanting to kiss you for years. Take your pick, Mike,â you tease.Â
He only smiles and brings your intertwined hands to his lap. âI know, oddly enough. And I'm flattered that a lot of pretty girls like me. But I don't know them. I can't⌠I'm not like my brothers.âÂ
Michael bites his lip, thoughts running in his head. Heâs thinking of something stupid⌠Something reckless. Something that canât be undone if he does it. The silent hum of the room becomes overbearing to him, gaze focused on your soft eyes, down the slope of your nose to your lips. He lingers there, thinking to himself how it would feel like. What it would taste like. Would he still taste the remnants of your flavoured lip balm? Would it be soft and light? Or something else he canât even imagine?
âMichael?â comes your quiet voice.
âHm?â Heâs out of it, almost. Dazed with some type of need. He doesnât want to call it lust. He doesnât think you deserve that. He feels more. The need to be with you. Sit beside you. Hold your hand. Kiss you. Everything he imagines to do with a girlfriend, is what heâs imagining with you.Â
Good grief, since when did he start crushing on you?
âMichael, do you want to kiss me?â
His brain shuts down. His mouth, hands, and eyes donât move. Mind blanking out.
After a few moments of silence, he manages to stutter out, âWh- Iâm sorry?â
Softly giggling, you shift your legs down and scoot closer to him. Hand still laced together with him, you look deep into his eyes. Gleaming with amusement, excitement and trepidation altogether. âDo you⌠Would you like to share our first kiss?â
He stares at you, jaw slack. âI thought itâll⌠I thought itâll happen for you when it happens.â
âMhm,â you nod, âIf you want to, it happens now. If you donât want to, it will happen for me another time. I wonât be mad at you, Mike. I promise.â
You try to act cool, but the truth is your insides feel far from it. You donât know what came over you, but from the way he was staring off into space, looking at your lips, the quiet surrounding you felt almost suffocating from the way you wanted him to lean in closer. To do something. Say something. So, you gathered your courage and took initiative. Even if there is no guarantee of him actually agreeing, you find yourself not regretting making your move. You wanted to know what a kiss feels like. And you wanted to know how it feels with Michael. You couldn't think of any better way to have your first kiss if not with him.
Michael is quiet for a few seconds, giving you some time to think of some lame segue out of this suddenly odd predicament you singlehandedly put you and him in. Before you could utter out an excuse, though, he cuts you off.Â
âIâd really like that.â
Your eyes widen, âOh?â
âYeah, Iâd like that a lot, actually,â he whispers, leaning more towards you. âAre you sure you want this?â
You could only nod, breathing out a âyesâ.Â
Michaelâs eyes flicker down to your lips, before gazing back into yours. Shifting closer, his head slightly dips down, you moving with him. Lips a hairâs breadth away from each other, his fingers coming up to gently hold your chin, closing the distance.
When your lips meet his, it feels like a quiet magic blossoming from your lungs and into every crevice of your heart. Eyes closed, you press yourself further against him. Sighing out, Michael tilts his head to the side, parting your lips with his and kissing you deeper.
He does taste your flavored lip balm. And he thinks thatâs the happiest discovery of his life.
A close second to knowing now how it feels to kiss you. At first, when you suggested to him to share his first kiss with you, he thought you were joking. But when you joke, heâd know right off the bat. And he knows your tone. You werenât joking one bit. His mind was racing through what felt like numerous mountains of anxiety and anticipation. In that second, there was nothing heâd like more than to kiss you.Â
During the kiss, your hand comes up to stroke his cheek. A hum reverberates from him, sliding his tongue against yours, almost breathing into you. Itâs a few more seconds of pure bliss before Michael slightly parts away, eyes still closed as he bites his lip. Closing the distance again, you leave some more pecks against the corner of his mouth, making him tilt his head and meet your lips with more passion and fervour. Smiling against the kiss, you melt into him as he holds you against him.Â
It feels like a long time before one of you takes the initiative to pull away, properly this time. The room is quiet save for the sounds of your heavy breathing. A soft smile is etched onto your face as you eye his gleaming face.Â
âWas that good?â You ask him, teasing.Â
âThat was good, babe,â he laughs, âThat was real good. I liked that a lot.â
Letting out a soft chuckle, you tell him, âI did too.â
âCan we do that more often?â he tries, leading to rounds of shy laughter to echo through the walls of the room.Â
Snapping out of your memories, you clear your throat. âYes, what about it?â
Michael reaches and cradles your face, âWell, that was quite literally⌠one of the best things to ever happen to me. I loved that night. I loved kissinâ you. I loved it so damn much, and I assumedâ I assumed you loved it too. I didnât say anythinâ about you beinâ my girl because I thought it was gonna naturally happen. And the longer I left it alone, and the more we got closer, I just... I thought we'd been together for a while. Nothing too official, because⌠I didnât know where you stand on that, but I figured weâd only feel like this towards each other.â
You lean into the palm of his hand, and he leans down and presses a kiss against your temple, continuing gently, âI didnât think we needed any establishing. I thought you already knew Iâd⌠Iâm so in love with you, baby. I fall in love with you more and more each day. But itâs my fault for, well, for not telling you properly. For assuming. Iâm really sorry, I should have said something sooner.â His voice is bordering on sounding pained now, but you hush him.
âMikey, gosh, stop, youâre fine. Youâre perfect, donât be sorry,â you whisper as you leave kisses on his forehead, down his nose and to the apples of his cheeks. âWeâre both really stupid.â
He laughs and pulls you closer, if itâs even possible. âTell me about it. Baby, I really am sorry. Please forgive me?â
âShh, I forgive you, and I hope youâll forgive me too. Iâm sorry,â you say.
âThereâs nothinâ to forgive. You didnât know. See how funny that sounds now? God, I could just hit myself,â he sighs heavily. âSweetheart, are we together officially now? I want you to be my girl. Been wantinâ that for years, if you must know.â
You teasingly grin and shrug, âI donât know⌠Quite presumptuous of you, already calling me your girl.â
âBaby, Iâve seen the way you look at me,â Michael smirks smugly, âItâs not wholly my fault for thinkinâ weâre together when you gaze at me the way you do.â
âI donât gaze at you,â you gasp.
His arms snake around your waist again, pulling you closer and nodding dramatically. âYes, you do and I canât blame you, baby. Iâd want to be my girl, too.â Swatting at his chest, you could only laugh in response.
âIâm serious, yâknow? Iâd like for you to be my girl. And just mine. No foolinâ around with this amateur stuff,â he says in a quiet tone, âI want you. Youâre my best friend and Iâve never loved or wanted anyone as much as I do you. I want to marry you one day, I want everything a man can have with the love of his life, and I want that with you. There had never been and never will be anybody else. I love you, so much. Can you be my girl for real now?â
A soft hum escapes you, âMichael, I love you too. God, I love you so much.â
He doesnât reply. Michael only leans in and catches your lips so, so urgently, it almost brings you down to your knees. It almost feels like your first kiss again. Except, this time Michael wasnât afraid. Or doubting. He knows you want him just as much as he wants you. Heat grows from the way he pulls you closer, every inch of you burning from his touch and passion. His lips brushing against yours, tongue slipping in between to glide against yours. Softly nudging you backwards until youâre leaning against the wall, he tugs your bottom lip with his teeth before continuing to kiss you fervently. Your fingers come up to run through his curls, and he tilts your head upwards into the kiss. And that drives you crazy.Â
Leaving small pecks against your lips before kissing down your neck, he murmurs against your skin, âI love you.â
You could only hum dazedly, weakening as he continues his ministrations on your skin. âIâm so glad youâll have me, baby.â He continues to whisper.
A final kiss to your lips, he pulls away to softly grin at you. âTell that Kevin schmuck to kindly get out of your life, please?â
âItâs Calvin, honey.â
âWhatever,â he laughs as he leans his forehead against yours.
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