ੈ✩ lyla ‧₊˚

michael lets out a breath.

"good morning," he says, almost sarcastically.

i just stare at him. then back at the bed. then back at him.

"what happened?" i ask, my voice small.

michael lets out a short laugh. but not because he finds this funny. more because he's just as lost as i am.

"i was hoping you'd tell me."

"well that's reassuring," i say quietly, looking anywhere but in his eyes.

i pull the blanket tighter around myself as the room falls quiet. neither of us know what to say.

i peek back up at michael. he looks exhausted. his hair is slightly messy and he's in his usual business attire - though it doesn't match the rest of his current state. he rubs a hand over his face.

"how much did we drink?" he asks.

"i honestly couldn't tell you," i sigh.

"that's probably not a good sign," he replies.

"nope."

i glance around the room again. at the unfamiliar furniture and the discarded shoes near the door. i cringe at the sight of my dress carelessly laying on the ground.

"so.." i start.

he looks up at me.

"we're at your house?" i assume, still not really remembering what happened after my second glass of champagne.

he blinks a few times, then looks around the room.

"yes," he nods.

i stare at him.

"seems like you had to think about it," i tell him.

"i've had a headache since long before you woke up."

i can't help it. i laugh. and the sound is surprising - to both of us. because this whole situation is awkward and now we have to suffer the consequences of far too much champagne.

my eyes drift around the room again. a watch sits on the nightstand. his button down shirt is draped across the floor. a couple of crumpled napkins are placed on top of his dresser. all tiny fragments of a night i can barely remember.

i frown.

"i remember dancing," i mention.

michael nods.

"i remember that too," he tells me.

"and i remember having champagne brought to us."

his lips twitch.

"oh, do you?" he teasingly questions.

"yeah, i do actually," i gently smile.

then my expression softens.

"i also remember not wanting the night to end," i add, looking down at my lap as i fiddle with his comforter.

the words hang in the air and no one speaks for a moment. because, despite all our confusion and jokes about last night, that's the one thing said that feels entirely clear. but somehow, that's even more confusing than everything else.

i immediately wish i hadn't said that. it's not that it's not true - it is true. but it sounds way more serious out loud than it did in my head.

michael's eyes are stationed down onto the floor. i stare at the comforter. neither of us seems interested in making eye contact - great thanks to my awkward statement.

finally he clears his throat.

"so."

"so," i repeat.

another pause.

"this is weird," i state.

a laugh, like a real one, leaves his lips.

"yeah," he agrees.

"i mean, not weird weird."

his eyebrows lift.

"i don't know why i said that," i admit.

"neither do i," he tells me.

i groan and drop my head into my hands, but also making sure the blanket won't fall down and expose my bare chest.

"oh my god," i groan.

michael laughs again.

"you're doing great," he teases in that soft voice of his.

"please stop talking," i say into my hands, the sound muffled.

"i've barely said anything," he lightly grins.

"just- stop," i plead, an uncontrollable smile making it's way onto my face.

then my eyes land on the floor again. specifically on the trail of clothing scattered across it. i point toward the mess.

"do you remember any of that?"

michael follows my gaze.

"no."

"that's concerning."

"a little," he tries to lighten.

"a lot," i correct him.

he sighs, the sound confirming that he agrees with me. that it is concerning how neither of us remember exactly how we got here.

the room goes quiet again. but not in an uncomfortable way. michael rubs a hand over his face again.

"can i at least get you some water?" he offers.

"that would be great. do you have any advil?" i ask him.

he nods.

"i'll go get it for you."

he slowly pushes himself out of his chair and then disappears through the bedroom doorway, leaving me alone for the first time since waking up.

the silence is immediate. and unfortunately, so are my thoughts. i look around the room again, unable to grasp what actually happened last night. because, even though i don't explicitly remember, we definitely fucked. like, that's just a given. i'm naked and both of our clothes are thrown around? it's a no-brainer.

carefully, i slide out of the bed and regret standing up. i grab onto the mattress for stability. my head hurts like hell and there's a foreign aching in my lower region.

after a moment, i shuffle over to where my dress is lying on the floor. at least that's easy enough to find. the rest of my belongings seem to have scattered themselves across half the room. one shoe is near the dresser, the other is by the door. my purse is somehow upside down beneath a chair. and after another minute of looking around, i realize something is missing.

i freeze. i look under the bed. nothing. check beside the nightstand. nothing. i stare at the floor. absolutely not. i'm basically forced to go commando because there is no universe in which i'm asking michael jackson where my panties ended up. i just can't.

with a sigh, i pull the dress on, with nothing underneath, and smooth it down. the second i check myself in the mirror, i remember why this dress seemed like a good idea last night. because last night had involved dim lighting and several drinks in a club. this morning involves sunlight. and going outside. i scoff at my stupid choices.

i stare at my reflection. the dress seems a bit more revealing than i remembered.

"wonderful," i mutter to myself.

before i can decide what to do about it, footsteps approach. a second later michael reappears carrying a glass of water and a small container of pills.

"i got you-" he halts.

he freezes a moment. not completely, but just enough that i notice. his eyes flick downward for a fraction of a second before immediately returning to my face. then he clears his throat.

"water. and advil," he finishes.

i narrow my eyes at him.

"what was that?" i ask.

"what was what?" he tries to play oblivious.

"that look."

"i didn't look anywhere," he attempts to play it off.

"you did."

"i really didn't."

i point at him.

"you absolutely did," i claim.

a reluctant smile appears on his face. he looks down at the bottle of advil before reaching his hand out and offering it to me.

"i got you medicine," he ignores me.

"that's not a denial," i say.

"i'm choosing not to engage."

i laugh despite myself. the motion instantly reminds me of my headache. michael hands me the water.

"careful," he warns.

"i know."

as i take the bottle i glance down at myself again. then back at him.

"do you happen to own a robe?" i ask.

his eyebrows raise.

"a robe?" he repeats.

"or a sweatshirt?"

"a sweatshirt?" he repeats, again.

"or literally anything," i tell him.

he looks me over for a moment before finally understanding what i'm talking about.

"oh," he says.

"yeah, 'oh'," i mock.

a laugh escapes him.

"right."

"please tell me you have something," i basically beg.

"i'm sure i do," he reassures me.

"good."

"i'll see what i can find," he tells me.

without waiting for a response, he disappears back out of the room. i immediately sit down on the edge of the bed and swallow a few pills. i then drink about half the glass of water in one go. my body feels slightly less awful. but only slightly.

i glance down at my dress again. still a terrible idea. the dress seems to have somehow gotten tighter in the last five minutes. or maybe i'm just more aware of it now. but it's revealing a lot more cleavage than i remember. every time i move, i feel like i'm one awkward step away from my boobs falling out.

a few seconds later i hear drawers opening somewhere else in the house. then i hear footsteps. then silence. then more footsteps. the man is apparently searching every closet he owns.

eventually he reappears holding what look like a dark colored robe.

"i found-"

he stops. again.

his eyes flick downward for a split second. then another. straight to my chest.

"oh, come on," i exclaim, rolling my eyes and pulling up the top band of my dress.

his gaze snaps back to my face.

"what?"

"you did it again," i say, annoyed.

"i didn't."

"you definitely did!"

a laugh threatens to leave his lips.

"i was looking at the dress," he lies.

"the dress that happens to be barely covering my chest?" i ask.

"i wasn't staring," he dismisses.

"you were definitely looking, though," i point out.

he rubs the back of his neck, looking entirely too amused with himself.

"i brought the robe," he tells me, this moment feeling too familiar to the one we shared just minutes ago.

he holds the robe out toward me. rolling my eyes at his antics, i reach for it. i then stand up and slide the silky robe on over my dress, instantly feeling better.

"much better," i say.

"it was that bad?" he questions.

"michael."

"i'm asking."

"you looked," i state.

"i told you i didn't," he defends.

i give him a look. his smile immediately gives him away.

"unbelievable," i tsk.

"i''m innocent!"

"sure," i shake my head.

he leans against the doorway. we sit in silence for a moment. the robe hangs a bit loose on me and the sleeves are a bit too long. i cuff them twice. michael notices.

"you look a little ridiculous," he comments.

my mouth opens and i look up at him.

"you're rude!"

"you wanted honestly," he softly grins.

"yeah, well i regret asking for it," i express.

the corner of his mouth tugs up more at this. he remains leaning against the doorway, watching me as i take another drink of water.

finally, i gesture vaguely around us.

"well."

"well," he repeats.

"..i think it's safe to say we had a good night," i state.

his lips twitch.

"i think that's a fair assumption," he says.

"great," i say, sarcasm laced in my tone.

there's another small pause in the conversation.

"very normal situation we have here," i observe.

"oh, extremely normal," michael plays along.

i laugh a bit. then regret it again because my head still feels like it's being attacked from the inside out.

"ow," i whine, shutting my eyes and holding my head.

"be careful," he tells me.

"i'm trying."

i open my eyes and they drift toward the clock on the nightstand. my stomach drops.

"oh my god."

michael glances over.

"what?" he asks.

"it's almost noon," i express, clearly shocked at the time.

"..yeah," michael says, like its obvious.

it may be obvious to him, but i thought it was, like, ten or something.

"don't act like i'm odd for being surprised. some people have things to do, you know," i say.

"and some people don't?"

there's a teasing edge to his voice.

"you're annoying," i say, sighing with fake irritation.

he just grins at that.

i finish the rest of my water before setting the glass down. the longer i sit here, the more aware i become that i'm in someone else's house. specifically michael jackson's house. wearing his robe. after what was clearly a very questionable series of decisions last night.

suddenly i want to go home. i'm not upset. i don't really regret anything - that's for sure. i'm not embarrassed. well, actually - maybe i'm a little embarrassed. but i want to go home because i need a long bath, a gallon of water, and at least ten more hours of sleep.

i slide off the bed onto my feet.

"i should probably get going," i awkwardly mention.

michael nods slowly, like he'd already been expecting me to say it.

"probably," he breathes.

i stand there stiffly for a second. and he stands there stiffly too. which kind of makes me feel better.

"thank you for the water," i voice.

"you're welcome."

"and the advil," i add.

"you're welcome," he gently repeats.

"and the robe," i add again.

that finally earns a smile from him.

"you can keep the robe if you'd like," he proposes.

i look down at the slightly oversized maroon robe that's tied tightly across my body.

"i'm not sure i need a souvenir."

"fair enough," he smiles.

i giggle. then i start to, shamefully, pick up my stuff from all around the room. i get my purse from under a chair and both my shoes from either sides of the room.

by the time i've collected everything, michael has disappeared briefly and returned with someone from his staff who can arrange a car. i'm holding my phone, just about to call one of my people who could do that for me, and i tell michael that's unnecessary, but he insists.

the whole thing feels oddly normal. and sweet. i guess he's just a very polite man.

at the front door, i turn back toward him. for a second, neither of us seems entirely sure how to end this. a handshake feels ridiculous. a hug would be too strange. so i settle for a small smile.

"try not to drink that much next time," he jokes.

"that advice goes both ways," i point out.

he smiles. there's another awkward second of silence. then i step outside. the sunlight is somehow even worse than before. i get into the car and as it pulls away, i glance back once toward the massive house. i sink into the seat and close my eyes.

because whatever happened last night, one thing is certain: i'm going to be thinking about it for a very, very long time.

a/n : yayyyy part 2!!!!! part 1 lowkey went crazy so i hope we like this part... pls lmk!!!! just a short part and i probably won't update a lot for the next week bc im going to be visiting family :) && i plan on this fic being very smutty/suggestive so look out for that.. sorry there's none in this part .. BUT ALSO lmk if u guys would prefer more often but shorter uploads (like 2-3k words long) or less frequent but longer fics (like 5-7k words long) bc im conflicted and i want u guys' opinions!!!!! this blog is pretty new so pls feel free to interact w/follow me (but if i follow u back it'll be from my main account, @romansbbg)!!! pls also feel free to send me any reqs, comments, questions, suggestions, or anything thru my inbox or thru a private message!! likes/reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

lmk if u want to be added to my perm taglist or js tagged in the next part of this series!!

the audience applauds as i step into the spotlight in the center of the stage, my hands subconsciously going to adjust the short dress i've got on.

"good evening, everyone," i say to the large audience, my smile wide.

there's cheers in the crowd in front of me from all the possible winners, actual winners, and guests at this award ceremony. the giant screens hanging above flash my face. somewhere amongst all the people lies the cameramen, who have their cameras zooming in on my face, waiting to catch every expression i make during my short time up here.

i continue to read the script off the teleprompter, announcing the category, the nominees, and even throwing in a few rehearsed jokes - that the audience politely laughs at.

then comes the envelope, the actual reason i'm standing here. i slide my fingers beneath it's flap, glancing down at the name printed onto the small piece of paper. it stares back at me and i'm not the slightest bit surprised at the name, and i know basically everyone else here won't be either.

i smile once again.

"and the award goes to..."

the pause barely lasts a second.

"michael jackson," i finally announce.

the reaction my words get is immediate. the crowd erupts and the applause that follows is deafening.

i take a slight step back from the microphone as he appears from his seat in the front row, obviously.

his presence commands attention without him even seeming to try. the cameras instantly follow him. everyones eyes are on him, including mine. and despite the chaos around him, he remains oddly reserved, just a simple, small smile on his face, a gentle nod to a camera stationed in front of him.

michael then reaches the stage and for the first time, i'm looking at him face to face. i've never actually met him before, i've only ever seen him from a far distance. the only closeups i have seen of him have been from magazine covers, interviews, music videos or photographs. i feel just a bit excited- y'know since i'm giving the king of pop his award and all.

"congratulations," i beam up at him as i hand him the award.

his gentle, large brown eyes meet mine.

"thank you," he says, his voice iconically soft.

before i'm able to fully step back, he shifts the award into one of his rather large hands and leans in, wrapping me in a small, friendly hug. i almost freeze up- almost- having him hug me, but i don't allow myself to. i guess i forgot that's a normal way the winners greet the presenters.

as he pulls away a second later, he presses the lightest kiss to my cheek, the kind of gracious and old-fashioned gesture that feels very natural coming from him. he then gives me a smile, which i return before stepping aside to the wings of stage so michael can give a small speech.

i can't help but find myself slightly blushing at the interaction. i know he's just being kind, but a small kiss on the cheek coming from a man that handsome is bound to make a girl get flustered.

but what i don't feel is his quick stare at me as i'm walking away.

i make my way backstage, the sound of michael's acceptance speech fading as i get further from him.

the moment i'm out of view of the audience, one of the production assistants grins at me.

"nice job out there."

"thanks," i say, glancing toward one of the backstage monitors, where michael is beginning his speech.

the assistant follows my gaze.

"not a bad person to hand an award to," she says.

i smile at her.

"i suppose not," i laugh a bit.

she's then called away by another crew member, leaving me standing alone. well, as alone as anyone can be at an awards show.

i remain there for another minute or two, half-listening to the rest of his speech while people rush around me with headsets and clipboards. every now and then my eyes drift back to the monitor, where michael stands at the microphone thanking people.

by the time the ceremony finally comes to an end a few hours later, i've spent the rest of the night applauding winners, chatting with familiar friends, and trying to not flash the many cameras that are present. i usually wear dresses of the same fit and short length, so why my dress is giving me difficulties now, i don't know. but, i even manage to leave with an award of my own tucked under my arm, which still feels surreal though I've received a few awards before.

as the audience begins to filter out, i'm ushered toward a waiting car along with dozens of other guests headed to the official after party.

i did stop at my nearby hotel to change into a different dress, this one more party-esque, but the venue is buzzing when i arrive. i smooth down my dress before stepping out the car. and when i do, cameras turn in my direction, but i don't give these paps my attention as i just walk straight to the entrance door.

waiters weave through the crowd carrying trays of champagne. famous faces are basically everywhere i look. producers, executives, musicians of all genres - everyone's mingling beneath the dim party lights.

i accept a drink from a passing server and take a slow sip.

for a while, the evening passes exactly how i'd expected it to; i chat with my friends for a while, congratulate some winners, and force a laugh out through a few same conversations that everyone seems to have at these events.

while gossiping with my friends, all of us tipsy by now, i turn to have my back rest against the wall. i look across the many people around us, trying to find the next topic for me and my friends to discuss. in the process, i spot a familiar figure across the room. the dark locks and black suit, with some shimmer occasionally catching the light, make it obvious who it is. michael jackson.

he's standing near one of the far walls, listening as someone speaks to him. every now and then he smile or nods, but even from across the room he seems a little detached from all the attention surrounding him.

i'm suddenly reminded of our interaction - the quick hug and kiss - and i consider walking over and saying hello.

but i immediately talk myself out of it. i'm not going to be the weirdo here that goes up to him and bothers him. he probably doesn't even remember me.

i take another sip of my drink and turn my attention back to my friends.

about twenty minutes later, my friends begin to drift off one by one. one disappears toward the dance floor with her flavor of the night. another gets pulled into a conversation with a producer she'd been trying to corner all night. and eventually i'm left standing alone, nursing the last of my drink and debating whether i want another.

the answer is obviously yes.

i weave through the crowd toward the bar, stepping through groups of people deep in conversation. someone laughs loudly beside me, causing me to glance over for half a second. which is exactly long enough for me to nearly walk straight into someone.

"oh-" i automatically say.

i stop short, the person in front of me doing the same. i look up, and see michael's face.

"sorry," i say immediately.

"no, that was my fault," he responds.

i shake my head, taking the blame.

"it definitely wasn't," i tell him.

"it might've been," he smiles.

i laugh at his kindness.

"well, i guess we'll never know."

my smile stays for a moment before someone brushes past us, forcing both of us to step aside. i take this as my queue to finally get in line for the bar, considering the line is only going to get longer.

a minute later, i slip into the end of the line and i'm only waiting for a little while before i hear a somewhat familiar voice behind me.

"i never properly thanked you for the award," michael suddenly says from behind me.

i turn around, noticing his coincidental placement directly behind me in this line.

i give him a light smile, shaking my head.

"i don't think i had much to do with you actually winning it. but congratulations," i say.

his shoulders lift slightly and he brings his hand up to brush his bangs out of his face.

"oh, thank you. but still.." he trails.

i grin.

"you're welcome, then."

i then turn back around and move up with the line.

"how's your night been?" he asks me not even thirty second later.

i face him once more, smiling again. i'm surprised he's actually trying to speak to me.

"it's been good," i tell him. "pretty busy."

he nods knowingly.

"i think that's mandatory at these types of things," he replies.

i laugh, the line moving forward again as a few people in front of us had placed their orders and disappeared back into the crowd.

"did you enjoy the show?" i ask.

he tilts his head slightly.

"the show or the ceremony?"

"good point."

"some parts were fun," he says. "some parts felt very long."

"yeah, true," i smile.

i'm not really sure how, but we've somehow ended up next to each other rather than behind one another.

"you?" he asks me.

"it was good," i start. "i spent most of it worrying about my dress. i was scared it was going to betray me or something."

he laughs at that, the sound soft but having some depth to it.

"i think you survived," he says lightheartedly.

"yeah," i snort. "barely."

by now we've reached the front of the line.

"what can i get you?" the bartender asks.

seeing that me and michael are now in line together, rather than behind one another, he glances at me.

"ladies first."

i quickly order another drink without giving it much thought. the bartender nods and turns to michael, who orders just as casually, barely pausing our conversation in the process.

we're soon handed our drinks and have shuffled away from the bar to make room for the people waiting behind us.

we kind of just stand there for a moment, neither of us particularly eager to jump back into the crowd. michael glances across the room, then gesturing lightly with his glass.

"i've got a place we can sit over there, if you'd like," he offers.

i follow his gaze and notice an area where a few security guards stand around - close enough to keep an eye on things, but far enough away not to hover.

"sure," i tell him, smiling.

i follow his lead as we make our way through the crowd together. as we approach, one of the guards glances up briefly before immediately returning his attention to the room.

michael settles into one of the chairs and i take the seat beside him.

and the conversation stays exactly where i had expected it to. we talk about music, award shows, past and upcoming tours, the weirdness of constantly having people recognize you.

at some point, one of the waiters carrying champagne passes by and michael catches the attention of one of his guards.

"could you grab us a couple?" he asks.

the guard nods at him.

which is convenient, as we've both finished our drinks not long ago.

"you like champagne?" michael asks me, putting his attention back into our conversation.

i nod in response.

"there's not really any drinks i wouldn't drink," i joke.

he laughs at me.

and then, soon enough, two fresh glasses appear in front of the both of us.

"thank you," michael says.

the guard gives a small nod and disappears off to the side of us.

"that seems handy," i comment, lifting my glass.

"it has its moments," michael laughs.

we clink our glasses together lightly. the champagne disappears much faster than either of our previous drinks had.

so does the next one.

and the one after that.

and it's not like i'm trying to limit how much i drink, so i stopped paying attention to exactly how many i've had. which leads to both michael and i getting very drunk.

but the party continues around us. the music changes, people come and go, even a few coming up to us for a quick greeting- but neither of us leave.

the topics of our conversations have gradually become less professional and more like topics that two good friends would discuss. things like childhood stories, embarrassing moments, bad interviews, and strange encounters get brought up.

i'm halfway through telling him about a disastrous radio appearance from a few years ago when he suddenly starts laughing so hard he has to lower his head.

"no," he says through his giggles.

"yes," i exclaim in return.

"no," he repeats.

"michael, i lived it," i slur.

his shoulders shake with another laugh.

"that's terrible," he states.

"i know," i grin drunkenly, shaking my head.

"you actually said that?" he asks.

"i was nineteen!"

he points a finger at me, his eyes hanging a bit lower than usual.

"that's not an excuse," he tells me.

"it absolutely is," i roll my eyes playfully.

we're both smiling stupidly, the smiles never budging from our faces. the conversation is so effortless now, like i'm talking to someone i've known far longer than a couple of hours.

another round of champagne appears, but i don't even remember seeing anyone bring it to us this time.

i take a large sip from my glass.

"so," i say, studying him for a moment.

"what?" he says, also taking a sip of champagne.

"i kinda expected you to be intimidating," i reveal.

his eyebrows raise.

"me? intimidating?"

"well.. i don't know. you're michael jackson," i giggle.

he looks unconvinced, but his drunk grin persists on his lips.

"that's not an answer."

"it is."

"no."

"it is," i fight.

he laughs again and i'm grinning even wider.

"i'm being serious! you're, like, the most famous person on the planet," i say.

he almost rolls his eyes at that, like its something bad.

"don't start," he jokingly warns.

"i wasn't going to," i giggle at his reaction.

another sip of champagne disappears from both of our glasses. then another. which gives reason to why our conversation keeps bouncing from topic to topic without much direction.

we even argue with each other. though, our argument is about something completely idiotic. something about awful fashion trends from the early 90s. michael was defending a few of the worst ones - like so awful they shouldn't even have been defended ever.

but at the end of our pointless 'argument', we end up laughing and smiling so hard our cheeks hurt. and its weird to see him act like this with me, considering he was acting so reserved just earlier this evening.

"you're so goofy," i tell him, my voice slow.

michael's eyebrows lazily lift.

"is that a compliment?" he asks with a laugh.

i shrug, softly giggling after i take another gulp of champagne.

"it can be one if you want it to."

all i see is his large grin, his perfectly straight teeth, beaming at me.

"y'know this is dangerous," i switch topics for what feels like the hundredth time tonight.

"what is?"

"the fact that these drinks are just magically appearing in front of us," i say, swishing my champagne around in my glass.

michael chuckles at my words, saying, "i know."

the champagne has definitely made everything feel a whole lot lighter. i may have gotten a little more sloppier in my speech but it's not sloppy between us. the conversation has just flowed without either of us having to think about it. or without either of us having to think at all.

then, he starts to tell me about a rehearsal that went wrong, as a few of his dancers got locked in the wrong part of a venue. at the end of his story, i'm clutching my stomach laughing.

"you're making that up," i smile.

"i'm not."

"you are," i persist, a laugh about to bubble out once more.

"i'm really not," he defends.

i shake my head at his words.

"there's no way the king of pop can't keep track of three dancers," i tease.

"oh, whatever," he says, fake irritation laced in his tone.

we both laugh, just looking at each other. but it feels a little different this time. the stare lasts a little longer than it should have.

he suddenly looks away, almost like he's catching himself.

then a song i instantly recognize begins to play.

"oh, i love this song!" i gasp out.

"do you?"

"absolutely!"

and without thinking about it, i stand up and hold out my hand.

"come on," i tell him.

his eyes widen a fraction.

"what?"

"lets dance. you dance, right?" i rhetorically ask, already knowing the answer.

he just looks at my hand for another moment, before reluctantly standing.

"lets go, but i don't want to be dancing for the rest of the night," he states.

i laugh, leading us to the dance floor.

"don't act like you hate to dance."

the dance floor isn't overly packed, but there's enough people dancing so that neither of us immediately becomes the center of attention.

i take both of his hands, loosely holding them in mine. i wave our hands around, bouncing to the beat of the song. i try to loosen him up, as he kind of just stands there as i dance in front of him.

"c'mon, mike. dance with me," i plead, continuing my attempts.

"i am dancing with you."

"you're not," i say. "but, whatever," i add, having the feeling he's not gonna budge.

so i have as much fun as i please, jumping and dancing directly in front of him. i still have ahold of his hands, which is the most movement i get out of him. i get a bit more touchy, seeing that the music is fueling my energy right now. just a few light touches on his arms, one even to his chest, and i kind of rub against him once or twice. but it's nothing crazy, i still have respect for myself, even when i'm drunk.

and after a couple songs we're back at our table.

i'm slightly out of breath. we're both smiling.

michael studies me for a second. long enough that i notice it. there's a thoughtful expression on his face.

"can i ask you something?"

"go ahead," i nod.

he blinks before speaking.

"how old are you?"

"twenty-four," i tell him, not thinking too hard about it.

michael pauses. i take another drink.

"twenty-four," he repeats.

"mhm," i hum.

i didn't think that number was anything important, but judging by the look on his face, it clearly means something to him.

and after a second, he slowly nods.

"i thought you were older."

"is it 'cus you think i'm sophisticated?" i joke, placing my hand around his bicep.

his eyes instantly dart to my fingers, before they glance back at my eyes. he just shakes his head, smiling. he picks up his glass, taking a large gulp of his drink.

"..now i feel old," he says, swallowing.

i roll my eyes.

"you're not even old," i reassure him.

"i'm thirty-eight, darling," he reminds me.

i can't lie, i have to hold back from a physical reaction to that pet name coming out of his mouth.

"so?"

he laughs into his champagne.

"so that makes me fourteen years older than you."

"what does it even matter?" i ask.

he doesn't answer this questions and is silent for a moment, before straying our conversation away from age.

soon enough, we aren't sitting properly in our chairs anymore. i've turned towards him completely, my legs crossed, the tip of my foot just barely dusting him if i sway it the right way. he's relaxed back into his seat, legs widened for comfortability.

"is that another compliment?" he asks me after i mention how i like his bangs.

"maybe."

"you've given me several tonight," his voice lowers just the smallest bit.

"can i feel your hair?" i ignore his statement.

he grins at me.

"go ahead."

i reach my hand up to feel his loose curls, twirling them around my fingers. i then brush my hand closer to the top of his head, taking ahold of a small curl within his bangs.

"you don't usually have bangs, don't you?" i ask slowly.

when i take my attention away from his hair, i notice how his lower lip is tightly caught between his teeth.

"no, not usually," he replies. "but maybe i'll wear them more since you seem to like them this much," he teases.

i roll my eyes, smiling.

"don't let it go to your head."

my fingers stay intertwined with his hair for a second more, before i look back at his face, noticing his stupidly wide grin. i then put my hand back in my lap.

"too late."

michael makes himself laugh with that. i almost laugh too. but i eventually glance around the room, noting how the crowd has noticeably thinned.

"what time is it?" i slur out.

he checks his watch and, after a second, his eyebrows lift in surprise.

"it's just after three," he tells me.

"no way," i say, my mouth slightly ajar.

he shrugs.

"that's what my watch reads."

"so we've been sitting here for hours?"

"apparently."

it's surprising to hear it aloud, but, thinking about it, it honestly isn't all that surprising.

"i should probably go," i admit, but i don't move.

"do you want to keep talking?" he borderline interrupts me.

my eyes dart up to his.

"like, stay here?" i ask, confused.

"no. i mean like somewhere quieter," michael clarifies.

i find myself lightly biting my bottom lip, slowly nodding.

"sure."

he stands, extending a hand towards me. his guards lead us as to a more private exit, where no cameras will catch us together.

we walk up to his limo, a guard opening the door for us as i slip in before michael.

we get to michael's house and as soon as we get inside, he offers me something to drink. i take the water he hands me, but i only take a small sip from it.

my eyes dart around the decor and furniture around me, since i've never seen the outside, yet alone the inside, of his home before.

michael brings me to his living room, where i kick off my heels, sloppily sitting down.

"my feet are killing."

"are they?" he asks, sitting next to me, but keeping some distance between us.

i nod, sighing.

"c'mere," he says quietly, glancing at my manicured toes.

he motions with his fingers to bring my feet to him. so i, confused, slowly lift my feet up to him. he takes ahold of them and places them in his lap. he wraps both hands around one, massaging me.

"you don't have to do all that," i mutter.

"mm, but it feels good, doesn't it?" michael questions.

i tear my eyes away from his large, veiny hands that are fondling my feet and glance at his face. he's already looking at me.

"it does," i quietly breathe out.

we stare at each other for a little while longer as he kneads my feet. the second he finishes, he pats the cushion directly next to him.

"sit here," he basically commands.

so i let my feet drape to the floor as i slide over to sit next to him.

i get a really good look at him from this close. and boy, does he look even more attractive from here.

"you're so hot," i drunkenly mumble.

he grins at that. he brushes a stray piece of hair out of my face.

"yeah?"

"mhm.. i didn't really mean to say that out loud, but it's true.." i trail off.

then, michael gives me this weird look. it's like he's deep in thought, but conflicted at the same time.

"what's with that look?" i ask him.

he looks down at his lap for a second before looking back at me.

"it's just.." he breathes. "you're so young."

i blink a few times.

"i'm really not that much younger than you," i tell him.

"i was fourteen when you were born-"

"but twenty-four isn't all that young. it really isn't."

he shakes his head lightly.

"but i'm still thirty-eight."

i almost scoff.

"that's not even old, mike."

"you already said that earlier-"

"yeah, well it's true," i interrupt him.

"do you really care that much?" i ask him. "or do you care because you think you should?"

he gazes at his lap once more. i sit up, letting my body get even closer to his.

"c'mon mike," i begin. "if you actually care that much, just tell me and i'll give you your space, or whatever."

he keeps his eyes on his lap. then, he turns to me. he hasn't said anything after a few seconds.

"i'm taking that as you don't mind?" i grin, my words slurred but hopeful.

he lets out a short sigh. my close proximity to him allows me to smell the glasses and glasses of champagne we drank on his breath.

"no," he says quietly. "i guess i don't."

my lips curl up and i just look at him for another second more. his eyes flick between mine but i can still sense that he's still thinking. that his mind is still running. overthinking, more like.

"you think too much," i mutter.

a short laugh escapes his pretty lips.

"well, what do you want me to do about that?" he asks.

"i dunno.. just stop?" i suggest.

"i don't think that's possible, y/n," he shakes his head at me, grinning.

the movement makes a few curls fall across his forehead. without thinking, i reach my hand up and brush the strands aside. it adds tension, which makes it feel different from when he did the same to me just moments ago.

his eyes instantly snap to mine.

i lightly drag my hand down the side of his face, letting it rest on his sharp jawline. i instinctively bite my lip. i glance down to his lips and when i look back up, he's still looking into my eyes.

my drunken brain doesn't think twice before acting on the nasty, nasty thoughts that are running through my mind, so i lean in and quickly press my glossed lips to his. he reacts almost instantly, like he's been waiting for me to do this.

the kiss quickly becomes messy, our tongues soon battling one another as the taste of champagne invades my mouth once more.

i sit up even more and he moves his hand to hold my waist. escalating the kiss even more, i promptly throw my leg over his and straddle his thighs. his hands softly guide me onto his lap as i do this.

the dress i had changed in to for the after party was a bit, well, short. it was probably about the same length as the one i had worn for the award show, but it was tighter, if that's even possible. it was more simple than what i had worn earlier, but it was still very sexy and was the perfect dress for a party.

because of the length of the dress, it immediately rises up and rests on my lower hips when i sit on michael's lap. i haven't looked down at it yet, but i just know my panties are peaking from underneath.

i still hold his jaw in one hand, but i bring my other hand to the back of his head, lacing my fingers in his hair. i move myself forward as i slightly pull his head closer to mine. my chest, with my breasts almost falling out the tight tube-topped band of my dress, pushes against his.

we continue to make out and i try to stop any moans from leaving my mouth, so i don't seem too excited. despite my attempts, the smallest moan escapes into michael's mouth. any confusion on whether he noticed or not is answered by the instantaneous shift of his hips.

when he does this, it nudges at my heat in just the right way. trying to get another taste of that, i subconsciously begin to circle my hips atop of his.

michael's hands, which hold my waist, slide down to grip onto my hips. he softly groans at my movements and uses his hold on me to further them.

after a little whiles more of this, i suddenly pull away, needing to take a breath.

heavily breathing, i ask, "where's your bedroom?"

michael, breathing as hard as me, smirks.

"i'll show you," he tells me.

i take this as my queue to get off of his lap, and as i do i notice his eyes gazing on the hem of my dress, which has considerably rode up. you can't really see everything, but one wrong movement and you'd definitely be able to. but i don't care enough to adjust it, so i just wait for him to stand up too.

when he does, he swiftly takes his jacket off and throws it onto the couch, before offering his hand out to me. i take it and giggle as he leads me to his bedroom.

after we speedily stumbled through his halls, we make it to his bedroom and he quickly shuts the door behind us.

i walk to the edge of his bed and he follows. i gently push him down to sit as i slowly lower myself down onto my knees. he licks his bottom lip before biting it.

i place one of my hands on both of his knees, softly rubbing at his tight slacks. looking up at him, i press a kiss to one of his knees, before trailing my hands up to his belt. i fumble with the large buckle and he just watches, drinking in the sight beneath him. once i finally undo his belt, i unbutton and zip down his pants. trying to pull them off his legs, he helps me by lifting himself up to take them off.

the black boxers michael has on look considerably tight, which is surely due to the large, ever-growing bulge underneath. i ghost my hands over it, feeling just how hard i've gotten him. i hear him gulp at this.

i lightly rub the outside of his boxers for a few seconds more, before i impatiently take the band and pull them down. his thick, large dick springs out, standing up. the tip is glossy with precum.

i wrap my hand around his base, flicking my eyes up to look at his reaction. he's sat, so patiently, staring at my hand on him. i softly squeeze him, which elicits a deep moan from him.

"y'teasing me, baby," he quietly says, the pet name falling so casually from his mouth.

i grin at him. i shuffle a bit closer.

"i'm sorry, mike," i pout.

i then push a soft, wet peck to his glistening tip.

"is this better?" i ask, my voice full of fake innocence. right after i ask this, i press another kiss to him.

michael sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes momentarily shutting.

"shit.. it is, baby.." he groans out.

loving the reaction he's giving me from such a small touch, i decide to push further, enclosing my lips around the end of his dick. i swirl my tongue around him and slowly move my hand around the rest of his cock.

the sounds that leave his pink lips go right to my aching core. he sets his palms down onto his bed behind him and leans back a little.

i then engulf more of him into my mouth, slowly letting him completely fill my oral cavity. his hands tighten around his comforter as he feels my slick, warm mouth on him.

i lazily bob my head up and down, making sure not to hurry anything. i do try to take as much of him in my mouth as i can, but there's still a great deal left out, which i just pump with my hand.

i pay close attention to how he responds to what i'm doing. he leans off his palms to unfasten the buttons on his white collared shirt. as he finishes doing this, he places his hand on top of my head, carefully grasping at my hair.

i continue to move my mouth on him and obscene slurping noises leave my mouth as a result. michael has slowly been putting a bit more force into my motions, using his hand to do so. he lets out small moans and gasps throughout the process.

i can tell he's getting closer, as his hand pushes down a little faster and his noises are more frequent, so i try to double down for him. my eyes haven't left his once, even when he's temporarily shut them during moments of pleasure.

i'm not exactly sure when he's bound to finish, but before i could even get him there, he pulls me off his cock.

"why'd you stop?" i ask, catching my breath.

"stand up," he tells me.

so i do. getting off my knees, i stand in front of him as he sits before me, skin shining with a thin layer of sweat, his dick still upright.

"need'ta be inside of you."

i chew my lip, waiting for what he'll do next. he carefully grasps my hips and drags me closer to him. he pushes up at the fabric around my hips, exposing even more of my lower body. michael's hands then glide over to my ass, squeezing my rounded skin.

woozily, he kisses my hips; the bare skin there and the parts covered by the skinny strap of my thong. following these kisses, he pulls back just barely.

"take this off," he quietly commands, toying with my dress.

i instantly step back just enough for me to remove the dress from my body. i pull it up and over my head, tossing it off to the side somewhere. the dress was tight enough to not require a bra, so i'm left standing there in nothing but my panties.

michael's eyes rake up and down my body, not missing an inch of what stands in front of him. he soon rises to his feet, shrugging off his unbuttoned top and also throwing it somewhere to the side. he closes the distance between us and grabs at my behind again before ushering me into a rushed kiss.

while still kissing me, he guides me over to his bed and pulls away to have me lay down, my head resting on his fluffed pillows.

his fingers take ahold of my panties and leisurely tugs them down my legs. i naturally spread apart my thighs, waiting with anticipation for him to be inside me.

michael hovers above me and brings his fingers to my mouth. i part my lips open and let him stick them inside, wetting his middle and ring fingers. i look him deep in the eyes as i do this, my face feeling hot from how turned on i am. he pulls his fingers out of my mouth and settles them on my bare pussy. he caresses a slow circle, my spit on his fingers mixing with my arousal. a light, breathy gasp comes out of my mouth.

he notes how ready i already seem for him and pulls his fingers away, instead using them to hold the base of his thick cock. he directs his tip to my moistened heat, nudging it inside my folds. my teeth clamp down onto my lower lip at this and my eyebrows furrow.

he slowly pushes himself inside me, the thickness of his dick causing a slightly painful, stretching feeling. michael tries to keep going, still not even all the way in yet, but unaware of my current state.

"hold up," i say quickly, putting a hand on his chest to halt his movements.

"what, y/n? do you want me to stop?" he's quick to ask, his eyes low but full of concern.

i shake my head no.

"no it's just- give me a second," i exhale sharply. "you're just a bit... bigger.. than what i'm used to.."

michael fights a smirk, gently nodding. he watches me as he waits for me to feel comfortable.

"..you ready now?" he softly asks.

i nod, humming out an "mhm".

so then he continues pushing into me, just as slow as before or maybe even slower. the burning stretching has become much more manageable and i can feel it gradually becoming more pleasurable. he bottoms out, his dick fully inside me and his pubic bone pressed against mine. once he's done this, he stills. michael's head finds its way next to my neck and he brushes his lips against the skin there.

"you okay?" he checks.

"yes, michael, but please- move," i beg.

he nods into my neck, slowly pulling back his hips before pushing them forward. he's stretching me so good and i can't help but let out loud moans. i wrap my arms around his neck and connect them at the back of it. he continues with his slowed pace.

"god, you're so tight," he murmurs.

i let out a loud breath in response. but his deliberate speed isn't enough for what i need right now, so i speak up.

"please- faster, mike," i voice.

michael considerably quickens his pace, his base dusting my clit every time he lowers himself down. he too becomes noisy, letting out small groans into my neck. i wrap my arms around him a little tighter and pull our chests closer.

by now he's pounding into my poor pussy and i've become a moaning mess underneath him. his size combined with his harsh movements is starting to quickly build me up. the small knot in my stomach begins to form.

"you feel so good, baby," he praises, fucking particularly hard into me while saying that.

i emit a large whine from that and he breathily laughs.

"oh yeah, you like that?" he taunts, continuing his assault on my heat.

"yes, mike- oh, fuck," i barely get out through my moans.

he goes even harder, putting all his effort into me. i can do nothing but whimper and whine into his ear as he drives his large dick in and out of me.

i can tell i'm not going to last much longer and he isn't either. we've both picked up on each other's states, michael's strokes beginning to become more erratic and my lips only being able to release incohesive sounds of pleasure.

"mike i- i'm close," i somehow say, despite my mewls.

he pulls his head out from the crevice of my neck to be able to get a good look at me. he moves his hands to grip even tighter at my hips, needing the stability. his pretty bangs bounce around as he keeps moving in to me.

"it's okay, sweet girl, i'm here with you," he purrs.

i tangle my fingers in the ends of his hair, twirling and tugging at it. my mouth is permanently left open as moans and noises leave from it non-stop.

"just let go whenever you need to, baby," he talks me through it.

which is the last thing needed to set me off. my legs instinctively come in to close around his hips as my thighs tremble through my orgasm. i moan out his name as well as a string of obscenities, my grip on his hair tightening. my eyes are clamped shut, my head is thrown back, and my back arches off the bed to further press into him.

michael doesn't stop his movements, and instead persists as he chases his own orgasm, continuing to pound into me. once i've finally started to come down from my peak, he just hits his, and whines loudly right into my ear.

he tries to pull out in time, but misses it by barely a second, leaving his first drops of cum imbedded inside my pussy, but allowing the rest to spur on top of and around it. he collapses next to me.

the sound of heavy breathing fills the room along with the smell of sweat and arousal. when i look down at my heat, i notice my cum leaking out and mixing with michael's. i turn my head to look at him.

he was also looking at the mixture of our fluids, but soon looks back at me. we just stare at each other for a moment more.

"you alright?" he asks me, still recovering.

i nod quickly.

"more than alright," i say softly, grinning.

a smirk sprouts on his face. he slowly brings himself to sit up before standing up from his bed, stumbling over to his connected bathroom.

i just lay there, flustered and wrecked, staring at the ceiling. a moment later, michael emerges back into the room, a tiny washcloth in his hand.

he stalks over to me, sitting down next to where i lay. he uses the washcloth to clean up the messes we've made on my body.

"i, um- i accidentally pulled out too late-"

"i'm on birth control," i interrupt him.

his expression instantly becomes more relieved.

"oh, okay. thank god," he sighs with a small laugh.

i smile back as he finishes cleaning my pussy and the surrounding area. he gets up to put the small towel back into the bathroom and soon comes back to lay next to me. he pulls the blanket out from underneath us and makes sure to cover me before muttering a quiet "goodnight".

i don't blame him for wanting to quickly go to bed- i'm exhausted, and it's not only from the amazing sex we've just had, but from the entire day; the awards show, the party, all the drinks...

not very long after i close my eyes, i've fallen asleep.

the next thing i know, the sunlight is hitting my face. it's way too bright. i groan and immediately regret it.

my head is pounding. my mouth feels incredibly dry. and my body, for some reason, is aching.

i squeeze my eyes shut again. for several seconds, i just lie there. i'm trying to remember what i did to have me feeling this awful, but it's too much for my brain to think about right now.

i open my eyes again- slowly this time. but the surroundings look anything but familiar. i'm not in my own bed, am i?

my stomach drops at the realization. i push myself up onto my elbows in panic. the quick movement makes my head throb.

"ow," i wince.

i take another look around the room to the right of me. then i slowly turn my head to take a peek at the other side of the bed. its.. empty? but the sheets are ruffled and the blanket is pulled back in a way that indicates that someone was sleeping there.

i blink. then my eyes drift farther across the room, immediately landing on a figure sitting in a chair near the window. michael?

no. it can't be him. that doesn't make any sense.

he's fully awake, an elbow resting on his knee while a hand is pressed against his forehead. then, he looks up. our eyes meet in confusion. he doesn't look upset and looks more concerned, if anything.

it takes a second for me to realize the blanket has slid down and has revealed my bare chest, but when i do, i dart to cover myself.

michael lets out a breath.

"good morning," he says, almost sarcastically.

a/n : OMGEE EEK!! i've been EATING up all these mature/older michael fics on here so i ofc have to make one of my own ... mwaahaha 😈 but on a serious note this is the longest fic I've ever written on tumblr .. and i write a lot on my main account .. so yw to the older!michael fic fans??? ig???? but anywayyy PLEASE lmk what u guys think about this!!! do we enjoy the set up & the plot??? 👀 this blog is pretty new so pls feel free to interact w/follow me (but if i follow u back it'll be from my main account, @romansbbg)!!! pls also feel free to send me any reqs, comments, questions, suggestions, or anything thru my inbox or thru a private message!! likes/reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

lmk if u want to be added to my perm taglist or tagged in the next part of this series!!

the next day passes by quickly.

i had a long meeting with my agent and other people i didn't care enough about to remember, and the hours seemed to disappear before i even had the chance to notice.

i am more than excited, walking out of that boring building and to the car, the driver opening the backseat door for me. i hop in, asking the driver to take me to michael's house, not having to tell him the specific address as i've been there so many times before, he already knows.

the drive isn't terribly long and before i know it, i'm pulling into the driveway of michael's house a little past two o'clock. i thank my driver, telling him what time i'll need to be picked up at before making my way inside the small building off to the side of his large home.

i barely make it through the front doors of his at-home studio before hearing that familiar voice.

"you're late," michael immediately says when he hears the door open.

i automatically roll my eyes at that, closing the door behind me.

"i am not," i retort.

michael appears from around the corner, grinning ear to ear.

"it's 2:11," michael tells me.

i squint my eyes at him slightly.

"that is not late," i say, setting my bag down somewhere on the ground near the entrance.

"it is when i told everyone you'd be here at two," he says, his tone making it clear that he's goofing around.

i stare at him.

"yeah, well i told you i'd be here around two, not walking in the doors the second the clock strikes two," i laugh.

michael's grin widens as he walks closer to me, stopping just in front of me, holding his arms open. i step in, taking his hug, feeling his arms wrap tightly around my body.

"how are you, y/n?" he asks, his voice only slightly muffled as he speaks into the top of my hair.

"i'm good, the meeting was super boring as per usual, but how are you, mike?" i ask him in return, hugging him back.

"eh," he mumbles, finally pulling away from me. "feeling a whole lot happier finally seeing my best friend," he tells me, flashing me a large smile.

i shake my head, unable to stop the grin that appears on my lips.

"oh, shut up," i playfully tell him.

he only continues to smile at that.

"come on," he says, motioning for me to follow him.

he sits down in a chair placed in front of all the equipment i still can't seem to understand, despite mike's many attempts of trying to explain to me how to work them. there's another chair next to him that i plop myself down into.

there's a few other people in here, all of them recognizing me. producers, assistants, people like that.

"so where's this life changing song?" i ask.

he shoots me a look from over his shoulder.

"don't make fun of me."

"i'm not," i say, trying to conceal my small smile.

"you are," he instantly says.

i just stare at him as i bite down on my bottom lip to stop a giggle from coming out of my mouth.

michael playfully rolls his eyes, a grin creeping its way onto his face as he turns to face the equipment once again.

"okay, listen," he tells me, clicking some buttons.

he plays me a part of the track he's been working on. when it ends, he immediately spins around in his chair to face me directly.

"well?" he says expectingly.

i blink.

"well what?"

"what do you think?"

"i think it's good," i tell him.

michael's face instantly falls.

"just good?" he hounds.

a small laugh slips past my lips.

"oh gosh, michael, you know what i mean!" i exclaim, smiling at him. i then reassure him, my voice turning softer, "it's amazing, just like all your other songs."

the corner of his mouth twitches, almost giving me a full smile.

"you think?" he asks, looking at me with his large doe eyes.

"yes, mike. i actually like it a lot. it sounds a bit different from anything else you've made before."

that makes his smile fully form.

"does it? that was kind of my goal."

i nod, beaming at him. "mhm."

for the next few hours, the conversation somehow shifts away from music entirely. as was expected.

one minute we were talking about his album in the making, the next we're discussing a movie we'd both coincidentally had recently watched. then somehow we're arguing over which one of us was more annoying when we were younger.

"you literally put a rat in my backpack once," i say.

he fakes offense, gasping.

"it wasn't just a rat," he starts, "it was ben!"

i roll my eyes.

"yeah, well forgive me for being shocked when i saw little ben poke his head out from underneath my notebooks," i sarcastically tell him.

michael lets out a laugh, a real one coming from the depths of his chest. the sounds fills the room. and for a moment, i find myself simply watching him.

there aren't many places where michael gets to really be michael. most of the world wants something from him - those things ranging from autographs, to photographs, to more hit songs, to juicy gossip they can harass him over. but here, in simple moments like this, he just seems like himself. comfortable, happy, free; the same little michael i had first met all those years ago.

it's one of the many reasons i've always loved being around him.

my eyes soon drift toward the clock hanging on the wall. 5:40, it reads. i told my driver i'd be ready for him to take me back to my house by now, so i'd have just enough time to get ready before my date with daniel.

"oh," i sigh.

michael stills from his laughter, his smile still shining bright.

"what?" he asks.

"i should go," i tell him, faintly frowning.

his expressions falls ever so slightly.

"already?"

"i have dinner plans at seven," i remind him.

"right," he utters, his voice quieter now.

i don't miss the way his shoulders sink down.

"michael."

"what?" he asks innocently.

"don't," i say, my tone serious.

he raises his hands in surrender.

"i didn't say anything," he defends himself.

"you don't have to," i reply.

that earns a laugh from the both of us.

i stand from my seat.

"i'll call you later, mike," i promise him.

"you better," he jokes.

i smile.

"i always do."

i then move a bit closer to him, leaning down to catch him in a quick hug.

"bye, mike."

i pull away from him, walking towards the door, making sure to grab my purse.

"goodbye, y/n," i hear from behind me.

i turn, giving michael one last smile before i exit the door and make my way to the car parked just outside his studio.

i leave the studio exactly on schedule, so by the time i've gotten ready and arrived at the restaurant, i'm five minutes early.

which is why i'm surprised when seven o'clock comes and goes.

and daniel still isn't here.

the restaurant is warm, dimly lit, filled with quiet conversations and the soft clinking of cutlery. though i'm sat in a private area, i had noticed the couples sitting at tables scattered around the room as i first walked inside. they were laughing, talking, leaning into each other like they have nowhere else to be.

i sit alone.

i've only been waiting for, what, like, ten minutes, though. i can't get mad at daniel, right?

a waiter comes back into the room, offering me a polite smile.

"can i get you anything else while you wait?" he gently asks.

"just the time, please," i request, smiling back.

he looks down at his wristwatch.

"it's 7:16 ma'am," he says.

i nod. "thank you."

he then leaves the room.

sixteen minutes isn't terrible, right? right.

he's probably just running late. traffic, or something.

i sit there, picking at my manicured nails, continuing to wait. i can't help but find myself incredibly impatient.

i exhale slowly, forcing myself to relax my shoulders and take a sip of water.

it's fine. it's just dinner. people run late. it doesn't mean anything personal.

but even as i try to make myself believe this, my mind drifts. to michael, in specific. to earlier today. if i knew i'd be waiting for daniel at our dinner reservations for an extra twenty minutes, i would've spent more time with michael. what was the point of me leaving michael so early and hurrying to get dolled up for a celebration dinner with my boyfriend if he wasn't even going to arrive on time?

i spend the next few minutes staring into space, allowing myself to be consumed by my thoughts, which only makes me more irritated with daniel.

the man of the hour then steps in, scanning the room. i sit up a bit straighter.

he walks over quickly, relief on his face, and leans down to kiss my cheek before sitting.

"sorry," he says as he sits. "traffic was awful."

but that's funny, because i didn't catch a lick of traffic on the way here.

not trying to accuse him of anything.. but if we've set plans for seven, then I'd like for them to be executed at seven.

i smile automatically.

"it's okay," i tell him.

i don't mean it. it's not okay. my time wasn't respected. but at least i'm sure of my feelings, even if i tell him otherwise.

he settles in and opens his menu like nothing is out of place, which somehow annoys me even more.

twenty minutes, huh? it's not enough for me to argue with him, but it sure is enough to piss me off.

i pick up my glass of water again, taking a slow sip so he doesn't notice the way my jaw tightens.

he's already talking - about something that happened at work. a story i only half hear. i nod at the right moments anyway.

"that sounds funny," i say when there's a pause.

"yeah," he smiles. "it was."

the food arrives eventually, and we eat. we talk. we do everything a couple at dinner is supposed to do.

and still, something still feels slightly off. it isn't anything dramatic enough for me to exactly point out, it's just there.

at one point, daniel laughs at something he's saying and reaches across the table for my hand. i let him take it. but i notice how automatic it kind of feels. like a habit, maybe. not really a choice.

"you okay?" he asks.

"yeah," i answer too fast.

he studies me for a second. then nods like he believes it.

i squeeze his hand once, just to reassure him.

"i'm just tired," i add.

"long day?"

"yeah."

that part isn't a lie, though.

but my mind, without permission, drifts again. to the studio. to how eased and, dare i say, happier i was earlier.

daniel starts speaking again.

i don't catch the beginning, but i nod along anyway.

and i actually start to realize something uncomfortable; it isn't that daniel is doing something wrong, it's that nothing he's doing is standing out at all. which, i guess, feels worse.

i take a sip of the wine i had ordered to calm my brain, slowly, letting the glass sit in my hand longer than necessary.

daniel is still talking. shocker.

but my attention keeps slipping, like it can't find anything solid to land on here. it almost makes me feel bad for him, that i'm this bored and irritated with him, but if he isn't entertaining me, then he isn't entertaining me.

at some point, he says my name.

"y/n?"

i blink.

"sorry, what?" i ask.

he smiles, but there's a slight confusion behind it now.

"i was asking if you want dessert," he states.

"oh," i say, glancing at the table. i didn't even finish my food.

"no, i'm okay," i let him know.

"you sure?"

"yeah."

he nods and signals to the waiter anyway. not in an insisting way, but just to decide for me in a way that feels small, but noticeable.

i don't comment on it.

a slice of cake is brought to our table and gets half-eaten, but the most i've done was look at it.

the check comes not long after and daniel reaches for it automatically.

"i've got it," he says.

i let him. it's easier that way.

then we stand to leave together. he puts a hand lightly on the small of my back as we walk out.

it's a gesture that should feel familiar. well, it does feel familiar. but not warm, not like it used to feel.

outside, the night air is cooler.

there's also a group of paparazzi hoping to get me to answer their senseless questions, their cameras already raised. flashes go off immediately.

"y/n! over here!"

"how was dinner?"

"how's the new movie doing at the box office?"

daniel tightens his grip on me as we step forward. we ignore them.

"y/n! what does michael jackson think about your movie?"

my eyebrows almost furrow. the paparazzi loves to bring up michael any chance they get. but to be serious - why are they asking me what he thinks instead of asking him themselves?

daniel doesn't react, he just opens the car door for me. i slip inside and he follows after me and shuts the door, which cuts off the noise all at once.

the car begins to pull away from the curb. streetlights smear across the windows in long, soft streaks.

"tonight was nice," he says.

i don't reply right away.

"yeah," i respond, turning my attention back to what's outside the window.

i feel daniel's eyes on me.

"you okay?"

"yeah," i repeat, probably too fast.

he nods, not pressing further.

i look down at my hands. i swallow slightly.

then without really meaning to, i ask, "do you ever feel like we're just.. going through the motions?"

the words leave my mouth before i can stop them.

daniel's eyes flick up to mine.

"what?"

i blink a few times, already wishing i hadn't said it.

"nothing," i say quickly. "forget it."

but even as i lean back again, staring out at the passing lights, it doesn't feel like 'nothing'.

the driver soon arrives at daniel's house, which was rather close to the restaurant we chose tonight.

daniel leans in and kisses my cheek.

"i'll call you tomorrow," he says.

not even gonna ask your girlfriend to spend the night after a date?

"okay," i nod.

he smiles at me.

"goodnight, y/n," he tells me.

"goodnight."

i watch him step out the car and towards his front door, going inside.

and only then do i exhale a breath i didn't really realize i was holding in. i rest my head back against the seat. the leather is cool against my skin.

my thought's haven't settled since just before daniel finally showed up at dinner tonight.

the driver pulls out of daniel's driveway, heading to my home without me having to ask.

the city slides past in streaks of light again and i realize something i'm not sure how to make into words; nothings wrong with daniel. but i can't put up with something that doesn't make me anything.

a/n : hehehehe we're just starting to dip our toes in the juicy stuff 😈😈 hopefully the next part will be filled w more michael & not y/n's lame bf .... anyway lmk what u guys think about this!!! this is a new blog so please don't hesitate to follow/interact w me!! i need more moots on here lmfao (but if i follow u it'll show up from my main blog, @romansbbg)! pls feel free to send me any requests, comments, suggestions, or questions thru my inbox or thru a private message!! likes/reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

lmk if you want to be added to my taglist (lmk if its for all my fics or js this series)!!!!