Damn

the bed dipped as you placed your knee closer to michael's stretched out thigh, adjusting your position so that you could lean forward while using you hand to pump his hard and lengthy dick up and down at a steady pace.

the bedroom was quiet except for the wet sound of michael's precum as you jerked him off. as well as the occasional soft, deep rooted groans and whines, and the moist sounds of lips on skin.

michael was laying down, pillows bunched up beneath his head. strands of disheveled curls sprayed across the pillows, some strands falling into his face. you sat in between michael's legs, running a hand slowly up and down his thigh in a soothing motion while using your other hand to stroke his dick.

the pace of the night was very, very slow. and perhaps it was better this way because michael was very, very tired. he had a both physically and mentally demanding day. you knew this from the way his shoulders and eyes were heavy when he came back earlier. yet despite that exhaustion, he still kissed you into the mattress and roamed his hands all over your body. that was when you had suggested taking care of him for one night.

michael let out a moan from beneath you— a small, involuntary cry that sounded closer to a whine than anything. you kept your pace steady and gentle, leaning forward to place tender kisses on his neck and chest. michael hummed softly as you did so, eyes lidded as he watched you from underneath long lashes.

you laughed softly at his expression, "sorry, baby. I know you're tired." you said, taking your hand off of his dick and moving up more to cradle him and line yourself up with him. michael places his hands on your waist, rubbing his thumbs in gentle circle similar to the way that you were rubbing his thigh.

having been prepared already, you sunk down onto his dick gently and smoothly, letting out a choked out gasp once you took him fully. michael sucked in a breath, letting out a small curse.

"..god, you feel s'good, mama." he sighed out. his eyes fluttered closed in a way that you couldn't tell if it was from pleasure or if he was genuinely falling asleep with his dick in you but you quickly begin to move. he groaned, eyes opening again just to watch you bounce up and down with growing desperation.

"fuck, you feel so good, mike.. s-so fuckin' good. ah!" you jerked, curses spilling from your lips with every inch swallowed into your wet pussy….

She was forever finding little reasons to touch him, always finding something to do. She’d flatten the front of his jacket after he shifted in his seat, running her fingertips over his lapel checking that it was sitting properly. Every now and then she’d absentmindedly take hold of his tie, giving it the tiniest adjustment before smoothing it back against his shirt. She never interrupted herself, their conversation carried on the entire time with dainty hands working independently while her attention stayed on whatever she was telling him.

Michael didn’t tease her for the public displays of affection, he definitely didn’t stop her either. He just watched her, because he loved having her undivided attention. Sometimes he’d lower his head a little without thinking, making it easier for her to reach him. Or sometimes he’d smile before she’d even touched him because he’d already guessed what she was about to do. It was impossible to miss how happy and giddy he looked letting her fuss over him. The second she would pull her hands away, he found some excuse to bring them back, reaching for her wrist and lacing their fingers together.

Michael and (✿) were like.. obnoxiously happy together. A type of couple everyone swore they couldn’t stand until they spent five minutes around them and realized.. there wasn’t actually anything to dislike. They weren’t loud, or even really showing off. They were just.. relentlessly fond of each other. Every glance turned into a smile. And every one of those smiles turned into one reaching for the other’s hand. Conversations somehow ended with them giggling over something no one else had heard, and honestly? It probably wasn’t even that funny. It was enough to make people groan into their champagne before admitting, very reluctantly, that it was kind of adorable. “Congratufuckinglations!” and “That’s Mama y Papa!” type of thing. One would be absolutely gutted to find out a break up in the blogs because.. you really are supporting and rooting them.

Michael wore his sunglasses indoors, nothing new. She knew when he got around certain people he liked keeping them on but she loved his eyes and often got antsy when she couldn’t see them for too long, telling him he feels “far away” when he feels like this.

At one point her hand drifted toward his face. She slipped a finger beneath the bridge of his sunglasses and gently pushed them up.

Just a little.

She paused there, studying him for a few seconds with an expression somewhere between amusement and affection. Michael looked back, his eyes met hers without hesitation and before long that pretty, pretty smile spread across his face, slow enough that the photographers caught every stage of it. She smiled too, but it felt like it was almost to herself before she eased the sunglasses back into place with gentle hands, straightening them and giving the side of the frame the lightest tap with her fingertip.

Her hand lingered.

Instead of pulling away, it slipped behind his neck, disappearing beneath the curls resting against his collar. Her thumb settled against the warm skin at the nape of his neck and began slow, absent circles. Michael’s shoulders loosened and his head tipped ever so slightly toward her hand, and he stayed there, eyes still on her smiling through whatever story she’d started telling him.

At some point, her leg ended up draped across his. No one quite caught how.

One minute they were sitting side by side, listening with only half their attention as someone across the room addressed the crowd. The next, Michael had gently gathered her leg beneath the table and lifted it across both of his knees. It didn't seem to surprise her as she barely paused in the middle of whatever she was saying, simply shifting in her chair while he settled her leg across his lap with absentminded care.

She pointed toward one of her high heels, lifting her foot just enough to show him whatever had caught her attention. From where the cameras stood, it looked like she was complaining about something. The strap, maybe. The height. She spoke with animated little gestures, eyebrows pulling together in exaggerated frustration while Michael listened with the sort of patient expression he had for stories he’d already heard twice.

Then he chuckled—still smiling as he slipped one hand beneath her ankle, his thumb resting lightly against the inside of it while his fingers curled around the back of her heel. He turned her foot this way and that, inspecting it. Whatever conclusion he reached only seemed to amuse him more.

She gave him a look and her hand landed lightly against his forearm in what was very obviously an attempt to make him stop.

It had absolutely no effect because one thing about Michael, is he’s going to play—all day.

Instead, his thumb began tracing slow circles over the side of her ankle while he gently rolled her foot back and forth in his hand. His other hand drifted higher, smoothing absent strokes over the curve of her calf without a second thought, his fingertips barely grazing the fabric of her dress where it met her skin. He looked completely entertained by whatever she was saying, smiling at her with that familiar grin while she continued fussing, shaking her head and quietly swatting at his wrist again.

From across the room, it looked very much like she was scolding him. “Michael, stop it.”

From the expression on Michael's face, it looked like he intended to ignore every word of it.

He only smiled wider and she tried one last time, pointing toward her shoe again with an expression that suggested she was making an entirely different point than the one he’d decided to hear. Michael glanced dutifully at the heel for all of two seconds before his attention drifted right back to her. His hand never left her leg.

He leaned over in the middle of whatever she was saying, the thought had simply crossed his mind and he’d acted on it before it could disappear. His hand found the side of her face for only a second as he pressed a quick kiss against her lips.

It was over almost as soon as it began.

Except he never really left. He lingered just a few inches away, close enough that their noses nearly brushed. His smile had softened into something like be was endeared, his eyes dropping back to her lips because he’d gotten distracted halfway through pulling away. It looked like it seemed entirely possible he’d forgotten they were sitting in the middle of a ballroom filled with people.

Whatever she’d been talking about stopped mid sentence.

She looked back up at him with the tiniest pout, lips still pursed from the kiss, waiting expectantly because one kiss clearly hadn’t been enough. There was something almost impatient about it, like she’d been interrupted and fully intended on collecting what she believed she was owed before continuing her story.

Michael looked at her for another second then he leaned in again for another quick kiss, even shorter than the first.

She seemed satisfied this time, the corners of her mouth curling upward as she finally settled back into her chair. Before he could pull away completely, though, she caught his chin lightly between her fingers.

Her lip gloss had transferred onto him.

She glanced at his mouth, smiling to herself as the pad of her thumb gently wiped the shine from his bottom lip. Michael stayed perfectly still, letting her fuss over him with the same e endeared expression he’d worn all evening. When she finished, she gave his lip one last absentminded swipe, admiring her work for half a second before dropping her hand back into her lap.

After a couple more hours ballroom slowly emptied around them. Chairs scraped against polished floors, security began guiding guests toward the exits, and the crowd outside had already grown thick behind the barricades. Camera flashes bounced off the glass doors before they were even opened, the waiting photographers spotting familiar faces through the windows and shuffling into position.

Michael stepped out first and she followed a heartbeat later, their hands already intertwined. It was the sort of thing people expected from newly smitten couples, except they’d been together for about a year.

The shouting started immediately.

Questions overlapped until they became impossible to separate.

“Michael!”

“Over here!”

“You look beautiful, (✿) !”

“How was the event tonight?”

She glanced toward the voices first.

“It was lovely,” She answered with an easy smile, giving the crowd a little wave before looking back at Michael as they continued down the sidewalk. He was smiling too, offering a small nod with his sunglasses still sitting high on his nose despite the sun having disappeared hours earlier.

Another photographer called after them. “When are you two tying the knot?”

Oh!

The question caught both of them off guard and she laughed first feeling her cheeks and ear tips get warm. Michael immediately looked down shyly, and the reaction only made everyone around them laugh harder. It was the kind of question they had clearly heard before, but neither of them had mastered the art of pretending it didn’t affect them. She tucked a little closer to his side giggling, while Michael shook his head behind.

Then he looked at her, not fully but just a glance from over the top of his frames. That was enough.

She caught it and immediately smiled at him, because she knew exactly what that look meant. A quiet little check in—a private ESP shared between them before either of them acknowledged anyone else.

“We’re.. enjoying each other’s company right now.” More shouting followed before she’d even finished speaking.

Michael barely heard any of it; the cameras, the questions, the security guards urging them toward the waiting car.

It all blurred together the second she looked at him.

He spent the entire evening watching people watch them, and somehow she still managed to make him feel like there wasn’t another person in the room.

She always answered questions like that with the same diplomacy, never sounding flustered, never embarrassed, never trying to turn their relationship into a spectacle. She gave people enough to satisfy them, then quietly closed the door before anyone could step inside. He admired that about her. More than admired it. He relied on it.

She squeezed his hand once as they walked.

He squeezed back.

Without thinking, his thumb found the side of her hand, tracing the same slow path it always did whenever they walked together. It had become such a habit that he doubted either of them noticed anymore.

He looked down at their hands for a second and back at her. She was still smiling to herself. He wondered if she’d realized she’d called them “each other’s company.”

The words echoed around in his head with ridiculous persistence.

Each other’s.

It sounded.. nice. His smile crept back before he could stop it.

She caught it. “What?”

He only shook his head.

Nothing. He just liked the way she’d said it.

The ride back to their hotel passed in comfortable silence.

Every so often she’d catch him looking at her and smile to herself, smoothing a thumb over the back of his hand where it rested between them. He’d answer by bringing her knuckles to his lips for the quickest kiss before setting her hand back down again, he also couldn’t seem to go more than a few minutes without finding a reason to touch her.

By the time they reached the hotel, the suite was quiet.

She slipped off her heels the moment they stepped inside, leaving them abandoned beside the entryway with a relieved sigh. Michael laughed under his breath as he loosened his bow tie, setting his sunglasses on the coffee table.

He settled onto the couch, shoulders finally relaxing against the cushions, only for her to wander over a moment later with a glass of red wine in one hand.

She climbed onto the couch and settled across his lap, one knee rested on either side of him and her dress spilled over his legs while she balanced her wine glass carefully in one hand. Her free hand found his face almost immediately, fingertips traced the edge of his jaw.

Slowly. Back and forth.

He tilted into her touch without thinking.

She turned the stem slowly between her manicured fingertips while Michael continued looking at her with the same dazed and smitten look he hadn’t managed to shake all evening.

“You want some?” She asked.

Instead of reaching for the glass, he leaned forward.

Tilting the glass carefully, she brought the rim to his lips. Michael took a small sip, never taking his eyes off her as the wine touched his mouth. She steadied the glass until he leaned back again, swallowing before the corners of his mouth lifted.

“Yummy?”

He nodded once.

She was already lowering the glass when his hand settled lightly around her wrist, stopping her just long enough for him to lean in.

Their lips met again.

The kiss was slow and lazy. She smiled into it, her free hand sliding back to his jaw while he tipped his face toward hers. There was still the faint taste of red wine between them, sweet and warm, lingering just enough for her to recognize it before she kissed him again.

When they finally separated, they stayed close, noses brushing.Outside, the city hummed beneath their windows.

“..What are you thinking about, Bambi?” She asked quietly.

Michael’s eyes stayed on hers for another moment before drifting down to the stem of her wine glass, then back again.

“Oh, I dunno..” He blushed, embarrassed by the thought now that he had to say it out loud. “Could you see yourself marrying me, really?”

She stared at him for a second then giggled, he’d managed to ask the question with the same shy clumsy he’d had when he first asked her to be exclusive and official with him.

Her hand slid into his curls at the nape of his neck.

She leaned down and kissed him. It was unhurried, warm, lingering just long enough to make him forget he’d asked anything at all.

When she finally pulled back, their foreheads stayed close.

“Michael, I’ve been hoping you even consider me to be wife material..” She murmured.

“You have?”

She laughed again, this time unable to stop herself, brushing her thumb across his cheek as his grin slowly spread from one corner of his mouth to the other. “Of course.. there’s no one else who understands me the way you do. And I want to be someone you feel safe enough to marry..”

He looked completely delighted. “And babies?”

“As many as you want..” She pecked his lips. “Should we.. get in some practice tonight? Prepare for the real thing..”

“You’re bein’ dirty.” Michael responds, though his body is already reacting to her words feeling the blood start to pump directly into his shaft.

“Am I?” Her hands slide down his chest as she tilted her head at him, fingers fidgeting with his belt to unbuckle it. “I thought you liked playing patty cake with me.”

“You always win..” A half complaint wrapped in affection because yeah: every time they played together.. she ended up steering things exactly where she wanted.

And damn if he didn’t love losing to her anyway.

he maybe thought you were joking at first, but it sounded too much like an admission of defeat rather than a funny question.

still chewing, he waited for you to continue the rest of the sentence, hoping you'd provide a little bit of context, or drop some sick punchline. but your expression didn’t change, it stayed eerily still. he looked into your eyes for answers and was met with sadness.

he put his fork down. you've officially ruined bolognese for him.

“did I do something wrong? did something happen?” confusion laced his voice.

“this relationship is dead weight for your career, michael.”

he couldn’t believe his ears. you sounded just like his father.

michael is a very understanding person. he has never once raised his voice at you. ever. not in your 13 years of friendship, nor in your 2 years of courtship, and the months that you've been dating.

unkind words were exchanged while emotions ran high. and your venomous back and forth could surely be heard from any passerby. his siblings pretended not to see you two take your conversation up to his bedroom.

you can't even remember much of the argument anymore. bits and pieces come to you like jagged edges of a shattered mirror. and when it comes, it sticks, replaying in your head like endless mockery.

"you don't need me michael. i'm probably just a distraction to you" "what are you going on about? can you stop pretending like you can read my mind?" "i wouldn't have to resort to that if you just talked to me" "i do talk to you, baby, everyday" "not when it's about what counts. it hurts that you confide in others more than me" " y/n you're the one that doesn't want to be seen in public with me" "because it's bad for your career. joe already says i'm a bad influence, that i'm taking you away from them, that i'm putting evil thoughts in your brain, some nobody girl that -" "why are you listening to joe?" "oh for fuck's sake if that's what you got out of this conversation then you're clearly not hearing me!" "do you really have to cuss to prove a point?"

and that’s what led you here – physically in the same room, yet hearts still painfully distant. 

he's so incredibly protective over the life you two share, he couldn't believe you wanted to throw it away. he's confused you won't fight for this relationship. he's hurt that you could give up so easily without a conversation.

and lastly, he's mad at himself for making you feel like you weren't such an important person in life. indispensable. he's mad because his lack of showing you security made room for joe's manipulative words to bleed into your consciousness.

when you no longer hear michael's soft voice, you leave the duvet behind and tread lightly to his desk. he hears your footsteps, turning around just in time – face to face with each other, for the first time in hours.

"forgive me, baby" "i'm sorry, mike" you both say in unison.

he can't help the smile that creeps upon his lips, and he's hopeful as he takes your right hand and pulls you into his lap. you stumble over your other foot but land safely on him as he swivels the chair to face his desk again.

“how come you stopped humming?” you ask in a voice that sounds tinier than expected as you fidget with the collar of his shirt. michael looks at you, and that's when he notices that your nose has gone red from sniffling your tears away.

“i was just, umm..finishing something i wrote for you " he's completely distracted by the thought of you crying alone on his bed. "can you read this for me?" he holds out the paper for you to read, and you reluctantly start at the lyrics –

there will be no darkness tonight y/n, our love will shine put your trust in my heart & meet me in paradise y/n, you're every wonder in this world to me a treasure time won't steal away so listen to my heart lay your body close to me let me fill you with my dreams i can make you feel alright And, y/n, through the years gonna love you more each day so I promise you tonight that you will always be the lady in my life

this felt like an apology and a prayer rolled into one. a commitment that runs deep, proof that you anchor his very being. it's a plea to take his word as he says it – that you mean more to him than anything, and a reminder that your love is strong. it's a promise that the space in his heart will be dedicated to you for the rest of his life.

"oh it's so beautiful, michael"

"i never want to make my girl cry" he starts "i'm sorry i didn't say it enough. but you are the most important person in my life, and i don't wan- i can't lose you..please." begging, his voice cracks when he utters "breaking up was never an option for me, you know”

and reading this again, you feel so incredibly guilty. michael has always been a giver, a selfless lover. and while you were afraid that giving his time to you would be detrimental to his career, it’s not a decision you should make alone. 

“you're right. i'm sorry for bringing up. i hate the idea of ending us as much as you do” 

you place the pad of paper back on the desk before turning around to face him, cupping his cheeks gently. his eyes well with tears and he sniffles once or twice before he brings his thumb to your cheek, swiping at the tears that fell from your own. you didn't notice you were crying again.

"i don't know why i keep letting that old man get in my head" you sighed.

as you held each other close and stared into each others’ eyes, you saw the sweet and scared little boy from gary, indiana again. you see longing in his eyes, a longing to be comforted, secure, and loved. 

“can we just stay like this?” he says, almost pleading. his voice is so incredibly strained and soft, and if you weren't paying attention you think you would have missed it.

“we can stay like this however long you want.” 

“i meant, can we just stay as we are? i don't want things to change.” for someone that wrote a lyrical masterpiece in under an hour, he sounded as desperate as a little boy.

“i know what you meant, mikey. and yes, I won’t leave your side ever” 

you bring his face towards yours, so that your foreheads are resting against each other. your breathing steadies, and you feel the weight of your earlier conversations leave your chest. hands still cupped to his cheeks you take a good look at him again, and find yourself putting on a small smile. a genuine one. 

he kisses you softly, a firm hand holding you by the chin to keep drawing you in. you both feel that this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

him holding you tightly, the lady in his life.

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ............✎ masterlist

author's note: joe jackson would have sooo meddled in his relationships

if this fic sounds a bit familiar, i took inspiration from my previous work at @haesunflower (main blog)

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 other’s contact details, you got home urgently to listen to the newly bought records of Jackson Five. 

From then on, you've been calling and exchanging letters with Michael non-stop. Postcards from the different states he’s 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. 

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. There’d even been numerous times where you got to come to his shows during the Triumph Tour with his brothers. It’s been well over four years since you met, and at this point he’s 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. He’s 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 don’t even know how it got to the point where you can just waltz into Michael’s home without him even being there, but it’s better not to question much about it. 

Michael walks around the bedroom, shifting things as he gets ready for bed. Glancing at you, his eyes soften. "Tired, baby?" He asks gently. 

"Mhm," you hum in response, sinking further into the blankets. "Had the worst customers today. I don't even care about the no tipping, y’know? The thing that’s 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." 

A soft chuckle escapes him, warming your heart. You continue ranting, “Mike, 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?” 

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." 

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?" 

"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. 

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." 

"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. 

Snickering quietly, you hush him before kissing his jaw, "That's enough out of you, hm?” 

“I'm serious, sweetheart. That job is stretching you thin, and I'm not liking any second of it. I'm just worried about you,” Michael looks at you with furrowed brows, thumb stroking your cheek. 

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. 

You respond quietly, “I know, Michael. Don't worry too much. I got everything handled, okay? I'm looking for job openings as we speak.” 

“If you'd just consider the fact that I know many people in all kinds of businesses, baby–” 

“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “Uh-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.” 

“It's not taking advantage, it's called networking,” Michael sighs. 

Shaking your head again, you shift to make yourself more comfortable against his chest. “No helping, Michael. Not unless I'm absolutely desperate. Which I'm not… yet.” 

He sighs again, silent for a moment before kissing your head. “Fine. 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?” 

“Yes, I do.” A small smile forms on your face, eyes closing slowly. “Goodnight, Mike.” 

"Goodnight, baby," he wishes, shifting down slightly as he gives a peck on your lips before burying his head into your neck. Murmuring softly, “Love you.”  

“Love you,” you reply, already out of it. The room’s silence filled with only the sounds of you and him breathing in sync, and the TV playing the end credits of Roman Holiday. 

Despite the quiet, your mind races. 

Okay. You're aware of how it seems between the both of you. It’s been mentioned by a few who witness your dynamic and you’re 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 ‘I love you’s 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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

“He'll be just the perfect man for you, doll,” 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? 

Absolutely not.

•

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. 

“Hey, baby? I'm gonna be home late again. Q called and said somethin’ about some adjustments the album needs. You got anything planned for today?” 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 ‘book of wonders’, and Michael laughs it off with a shy blush every time. 

“What more adjustments does it need? I think the album is already perfect!” You scoff. 

Michael laughs quietly and shrugs, “I think he's gonna cut another song from the final tracklist. Been drivin’ me crazy with that.”

Pointing at him briefly, you press your words firmly. “Don't let him cut Billie Jean, Mike. I swear to God.” 

“I promise I won't. Not Billie Jean,” Michael snorts, “Anyway baby, your plans? For today?” 

You hum absentmindedly, too distracted with cutting up some apple slices for your fruit bowl. “I’m going out later. Thinking about doing some shopping.” 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. 

God, everything is so silly.

“Ooh, somethin’ special going on? You never shop for yourself spontaneously. I always have to beg for you to do that,” 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. 

“Looks like heaven, doesn't it?” You ask with a teasing grin, gesturing towards the bowl. 

“No, angel. You do,” he replies with a kiss on your temple. “You didn't answer my question.”

“Oh, that. Well…” You shrug, “Maybe, maybe not. We'll have to wait a bit and then you'll get your story, hm?” 

“Hmm… Okay, I'll bite. I'll be waitin’ for some kind of update soon, okay?” 

“I promise,” you say. 

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. “That's Bill. Hold on, baby.” 

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. 

Turning back to the bowl of fruit, you rethink how good of an idea it is to actually go on this damn blind date. 

•

“I’m telling you, Daisy, what if this is a bad idea?” You hiss in desperation into the telephone. 

You’re back in your own apartment, surrounded by messy piles of clothing. It’s almost 10PM and the thing is, what you should be doing is some facial care before the date tomorrow, but instead you’re currently freaking out on Daisy. You were supposed to be back at Michael’s. But then. During your retail run, you belatedly realized it’s almost impossible to sleep at Michael’s the night before your blind date.

One, he would try to heckle his way into knowing what you’re going to be up to. 

Two, you would immediately give in to him and tell him everything. 

Three, after all of that, he’d question your sudden urge to date.

And finally, you’d have to tell him you’re doing it to get over your stupid feelings for him. 

Ruining your friendship with Michael would have to be the worst thing that you could do to your life. 

So that’s how you end up back in your own space, though the comfort you felt at Michael’s is sorely missed. Picking up a nearby sweater, you throw it across the room to the ‘No’ pile. “What if the date turns out really well but it’s just my subconscious self making it work to forget about Mike? That wouldn’t be fair to Janine’s nephew.”

“Okay, first of all, if your subconscious self is making it work, that’s a good thing. At least some part of you have an effort to try. Second, it’ll be exactly perfect if you got over Michael. I mean… c’mon, you’ve been friends for years. If he hasn’t made his move by now, then he never will.”

‘Well yeah, but if I told you he kisses me almost every day, you’d probably be saying something different,’ the thought runs through your head silently. Blinking away your delusions, you sigh, “What if Janine’s nephew thinks I’m too breezy?”

Daisy laughs, “Girl, you’re not as breezy as you think you are. And even so, breezy is in now. You’d be having him drooling all over ya’.” 

A brief pause. 

“You keep saying ‘Janine’s nephew’,” Daisy says, “Girl, do you even know what his name is?”

Shameful heat blushes your neck, grimacing silently, mind running to remember. 

“Uhm… Kevin… what’s-his-name?”

Shrieking laughter from the other side of the telephone makes you flinch in shock. You’re telling her off, whining as Daisy repeats to herself the word Kevin. “It’s Calvin, girl,” she corrects you, chortling unabashedly. “Calvin Johnson, Janine’s sister’s son. Remember that before you embarrass yourself tomorrow night.”

“But Daisy! What if it’s a bad idea?”

“Listen to me. Calvin is also being set up, right? He’s probably just as nervous as you are. And he doesn’t know you yet. If you somehow don’t hit it off, which I seriously doubt because, well, don’t tell Janine this, but she’s 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 don’t hit it off, he won’t be hurtin’ and cryin’ in the ditch somewhere. He’s fine, and so are you. Just do this.”

You bite your lip, “Daisy…”

She immediately cuts you off. “The main reason why you’re 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 it’s time to acknowledge the fact that nothing seems to be blossoming there. You deserve the world, babe... You can go try and gettin’ it yourself instead of waitin’ around for someone to give it to you.”

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. You’ve 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, you’ve 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 it’s just another friendly peck. Everything he does means the whole world to you, but why doesn’t it seem to mean much to him?

You’re aware you’re being unfair. Michael doesn’t 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. It’s your own fault for developing feelings. You can’t be mad at him.

You can never be mad at Michael. Not when all he’s done for you is provide love and unconditional support. 

After a few more minutes of slow conversation with Daisy, you tell your goodbyes after reassuring her you won’t 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, you’re determined to never have to look at a piece of stray clothing ever again because it will absolutely slay you if you did. You haven’t 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. 

And obviously, Michael should be no such help for this particular instance. 

The landline rings and you pick it up, half assuming it’s Daisy to convince you to not back out again. The girl has such little faith in you, you scoff. 

“Daisy, I promise—”

“It’s Michael.”

Your eyes widen briefly before a soft laugh escapes you, “Oh, hey, Mike.”

“Where are you?” he asks, voice sounding a little stiff. Momentarily freezing, your head tilts in confusion over his tone.

“I’m at home, why?”

“No, you’re not. I know this because I’m calling from home. I thought you’re staying here tonight?” Michael asks.

“Oh, I thought you’re supposed to come home late tonight?” You ask him. 

Michael replies with the same stiff tone, “I 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, you’re not home. Why?”

“I meant I’m 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.”

“That’s never stopped you before?” he argues.

Letting out a nervous laugh, you say, “Mike, maybe it’s because I don’t want you to get sick of me—”

“That’s a bunch of bull, sweetheart. C’mon, what’s happenin’? Please, baby, tell me,” Michael pleads, voice almost upset. “You’re supposed to be here with me. I want you here.”

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, you’re putting your foot down and not surrendering to him. Regardless how tempting it is.

How insanely tempting.

“I’m sorry, Mike. It’s just so late already, you know?” You try to deflect. 

“Who said anything about you drivin’? I’ll get Bill to drive you, I’ll call him right now—”

“Wait, Mike, don't!" You exclaim. “Poor Bill needs his rest. And so do you. Mike, we can sleep apart for one night.”

“We can but I’d rather not, baby…” he replies, almost completely quiet. “Is something the matter? You usually tell me when you’re not coming over.”

Slapping your palm to your forehead, you let out a soft gasp. “Of course! Oh, Mike, I’m so sorry. It completely slipped my mind. I was too distracted from the– from today! I’m sorry, honey, I should have given you some kind of note.”

Michael hums, “That’s okay… Just… Don’t you want to come over?” 

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, “Mike, I’d love to but it’s late. Please rest. I promise I’ll see you the day after tomorrow okay?”

“Woah, hang on, why not just tomorrow?”

A tugging of your bottom lip, you think of what to say. You genuinely can’t bring yourself to tell him the truth. You don’t want to risk it. Not if he’s going to interrogate you until you confess your undying love for him. Gosh, your head feels as if it’s about to explode.

“Because I’m gonna be doing something tomorrow. Remember the little update?”

“Why can’t you just tell me now? Or tomorrow night?” Michael almost pleads. 

“Mike, please don’t make this harder for me,” you tell him, whining. “I promise, promise, promise I’ll tell you the day after tomorrow. Please?”

A beat of silence. 

“I can’t…” he starts so timidly.

You hum in question, “You can’t what, Mike?”

A clearing of his throat before he replies, voice firmer, “Nothing. Okay, baby. I’ll wait until the day after tomorrow to see you, but I’m callin’ you tomorrow midnight. I need to hear your voice and I need to know you’re at home safe.”

“Okay, Michael. That’s very sweet of you.”

He only hums in response. Furrowing your brows, you ask him. “Mike, are you alright?”

“I just miss you so much, baby,” he replies after a short second. He says it so earnestly, your cheeks warm up. 

“We just saw each other this morning,” you softly remind him with a laugh.

“I don’t care.”

You smile softly, finger coiling with the landline wire. “I miss you too, Mikey. I’ll see you, okay?”

“Don’t forget to call.”

“I won’t!”

“You better not… Go to sleep. Goodnight, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mike. Goodnight.”

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. 

•

Taking a sip from your wine glass, you smile politely as Kev– 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. You’re immediately relieved about choosing the dark, sleek dress that was purchased spontaneously the day before. 

“And then my boss just went off on him, I did nothin’ but walk away, it was so bad,” 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. 

But… nothing. You feel absolutely nothing.

Here you are, dinner with the perfect gentleman who knows to compliment, and you’re 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 restaurant’s owner at the entrance that resembled Gene Kelly. Michael, Michael, Michael. It’s like he’s taken over your life the more you try to forget about your feelings. 

You’re immediately being consumed by guilt at the thought of hurting Janine and her nephew. They are both really nice and warm people, and you’re returning the favour by playing games. Michael would have been so disappointed. He probably would enjoy talking to Calvin. Maybe if it doesn’t work between you and Calvin, and you’re being real honest here, it definitely won’t, 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. 

Biting your lip, you realize you’re only thinking of things that include Michael to help you go through this date. And that only makes you feel worse. You’re a terrible person. 

“ — Hey, are you okay?”

You slightly jump, wide eyes gazing back at Calvin’s concerned ones. “O-oh, yeah, yes! I am okay, I’m so sorry. I’m just so… full, I get a little breezy when I’m, uh, full.”

Just pulling shit straight out of your ass. 

He nods in acknowledgement, giving a small smile before he continues his story about… kangaroos or underoos. Either one. 

You couldn’t 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. It’s one of Michael’s bodyguards, you think. He’s newly appointed, but he seems nice. He has ginger hair and a small tattoo behind his ear, that’s how you know it’s him. Tilting your head further to the side, you try to recognize the rest of the table he’s sitting at. Nerves racking, you hope with everything you have that Michael isn’t there with them. But after seeing the whole table only has burly men laughing aloud, you realize they’re 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. 

Your eyes suddenly make contact with one of the guards, who looks just as dumbfounded as you are. It was the world’s worst staring eye contest before you clear your throat. Averting your gaze, you force a smile as Calvin cluelessly continues his story. 

That redhead is so gonna rat you out. 

•

Returning home couldn’t be any more relieving than it is now. You’re leaning against the front door after closing it, sighing heavily. Thinking of moments prior. 

“Hey, listen… I had a wonderful time tonight. And I think you did, too. But just as friends, huh?” Calvin asks as he walks you to your doorstep. You only look at him with your mouth slightly agape, not knowing what to say. 

He laughs, shrugging, “I only agreed because of Aunt Janine. And I’m assuming you did too. That woman doesn’t know how to take no for an answer, that’s for sure.”

“She sure doesn't,” you softly chuckle. 

Calvin rubs his nape, looking at you with an almost sympathetic grin. “And uh… don't take this the wrong way, but I sincerely hope you don't go on another date with a stranger.” 

Trying to hide your offended face, you ask him. “Why do you say that?” 

“Because this whole night, I was just talkin’ 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 thinking…” he trails off, displaying a pitying look as you nervously fiddle with your fingers, looking away. 

“... Of someone else, hm?” 

You don't respond, but you settle for a small smile. “You're too understanding.” 

Calvin sighs deeply, “I know.” He says in a melancholic tone. 

Laughing with him, you sigh and step closer to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Calvin. I'm so sorry this didn't work out. I'm sorry for not trying.” 

“Eh, forget it,” he reassures you. “Honest. We wouldn't work anyway, I actually liked those risottos.” 

“They were disgusting,” you tease back. Hugging Calvin a very short second, you let him off with a goodbye. 

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. 

Instead, the thing you want to do most right now is cuddle up against him. 

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, familiar…. Intimate.

You must be imagining things. 

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. 

As you open the door, you force a bright grin onto your face. “Michael, hey—” 

“Who's he?” Michael asks sharply. Almost robotic. His body tense, jaw clenched ever so slightly.

“Hm?” You hum in response, tilting your head in confusion. 

“The guy you were just with,” he quietly adds, walking into your apartment. 

You realize what he's talking about and let out an ‘Oh’. “That's Janine's nephew,” you answer. 

Michael just looks at you with a deep gaze. Murmuring hoarsely, he says to you, “C’mon, baby… don't play with me like this. Not right now.” 

“Michael, I'm telling the truth, that is Janine's nephew. His name's Calvin.” 

“Calvin…” he scoffs before turning around to pace back and forth in your living room. Meanwhile, you get more and more confused. 

“What, you went on a date with him or somethin’?” 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. 

“Y-yes, I did… Come on Mikey, what's going on?” 

He gives you the most incredulous look he's ever given anyone. “What's going on? Are you actually asking me that? What's… What's wrong with you?” 

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?

“What did I do, Mike?” You ask in a small voice, hugging yourself nervously.

“Oh no, no, no, you don't get to be upset, I'm upset,” 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, “You were on a date with a rando? What, did you think I wasn't gonna find out? And you're so– so casual about it, do you even care at all?” 

“Mike, what's… It's one date, Michael, what could be the issue? Please tell me why you're so bothered!” 

“Why the hell do you think I'm bothered?” 

“I don't know! It's just one date and you're not even my boyfriend, so tell me, Mikey, please.” 

Michael throws his arms in the air, “Oh, sure! Just one would be fi– wh-what? I'm sorry?” 

“What?” 

“What did you say?” 

“It's just one date!” 

“No,” Michael whispers, shaking his head. “After that… what did you mean by that?”

Tilting your head, you furrow your brows. “Mike?” 

He suddenly walks right up to you, hands slowly coming up to cradle your face. “I'm not… your boyfriend?” 

“ … No?” 

Michael's eyes flutter, pain being etched on every surface of his face. “Are you breakin’ up with me, baby?” 

“What?” You ask with a soft voice, eyes widening. “When did we get together?”

“What?” 

“What?” 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. 

“What do you mean when did we get together?” 

Close to crying, you whine softly, “Michael, I don't follow!” 

Michael clenches his jaw, eyes boring into yours as his brows furrow deeper. “Baby, this isn't funny.” 

“I'm not trying to be funny!” You reply. 

“Then what are you talking about? I am your boyfriend!”

“Since when?” You ask loudly, eyes getting wider by the second. 

His jaw only drops further in response, head shaking repeatedly. “She's joking,” he murmurs softly to himself. You deny it again, strongly needing to know what the hell is actually going on. 

“Well, baby,” Michael starts with a bewildered look on his face, “I happen to think we got together since I started callin’ you baby every day and how you're practically livin’ with me because I don't think I can actually sleep without you anymore, oh and I almost forgot, we're kissin’ damn near all the time!” 

You stand there, yet another dumbfounded look on your face. “I just thought you took home some European customs,” is the only thing you could say in a small voice. 

“What?” Michael asks again, another confused facial expression before he sighs and pulls you close. “Baby… you're telling me this whole time…?” 

You shake your head, hand coming up to softly stroke his jaw. “I 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 it– you didn't clarify anything, did you?” 

“I thought in a way, you knew!” 

You ask softly, “How could I have known?” 

Michael looks away, arms still wrapped around you. “Okay… I’m sorry. I’m really sorry for yelling because now I’m just rethinking everything… I was a stupid twenty year old. Remember how we kissed for the first time?” 

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. 

“Mike, I told you we should have just rewatched Dog Day Afternoon.”

“How was I supposed to know it was gonna be that bad?” He snorts as he places the half eaten bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. 

Laughing, you lean back on the couch and make yourself comfortable. Turning to him, you ask. “We went straight for the movie earlier, I never got to ask you how your day was.” 

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.

“Wanna talk about it?” 

He shrugs, looking elsewhere. “I don't know, it's just…” 

“New album jitters?” 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. 

“... No, it's not that,” he laughs softly. “I mean, I'm nervous about that too, but tonight is different. It's just my brothers. They wouldn't stop ragging on me earlier.” 

Pulling your knees to your chest, you tilt your head. “Why? What's the matter?” 

“I had them listen to the final picks for the album, and they—” 

“If they didn't like it, that's their problem. The album is perfect!” You cut him off, already raging at the thought. You’ve always been his number one supporter and defender.

Michael laughs again, shaking his head. “No, no, they were real supportive about that… it's just the fact that I've uh, I've been singing about, y’know… romance and all.” 

You nod, and raise your brow when he doesn't continue. “And?” 

He sighs after what felt like forever, “Well it's silly... because I've never even had my first kiss yet, so.” 

“Michael, that's okay. Me neither.” 

Eyes widening, he sputters out, “You haven't?” 

“No,” you laugh. “Is that so unbelievable for you?” 

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. 

He only shrugs in response to your question before shifting closer. “Does it bother you?” 

Shaking your head, you smile at him. “Not 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.” 

“Yeah, they really did their thing when I Can't Help It played,” Michael grumbles. 

Softly giggling, you grip onto his hand more firmly. “Don't let them get to you. You have so many girls that've been wanting to kiss you for years. Take your pick, Mike,” you tease. 

He only smiles and brings your intertwined hands to his lap. “I 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.” 

“I know you're not,” you whisper. “And that's okay. It's great, even.” 

“Yeah?” He says softly in response.

“Yeah.”

Michael bites his lip, thoughts running in his head. He’s thinking of something stupid… Something reckless. Something that can’t 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 can’t even imagine?

“Michael?” comes your quiet voice.

“Hm?” He’s out of it, almost. Dazed with some type of need. He doesn’t want to call it lust. He doesn’t 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 he’s imagining with you. 

Good grief, since when did he start crushing on you?

“Michael, do you want to kiss me?”

His brain shuts down. His mouth, hands, and eyes don’t move. Mind blanking out.

After a few moments of silence, he manages to stutter out, “Wh- I’m sorry?”

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. “Do you… Would you like to share our first kiss?”

He stares at you, jaw slack. “I thought it’ll… I thought it’ll happen for you when it happens.”

“Mhm,” you nod, “If you want to, it happens now. If you don’t want to, it will happen for me another time. I won’t be mad at you, Mike. I promise.”

You try to act cool, but the truth is your insides feel far from it. You don’t 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. 

“I’d really like that.”

Your eyes widen, “Oh?”

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot, actually,” he whispers, leaning more towards you. “Are you sure you want this?”

You could only nod, breathing out a ‘yes’. 

Michael’s eyes flicker down to your lips, before gazing back into yours. Shifting closer, his head slightly dips down, you moving with him. Lips a hair’s 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 that’s 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, he’d know right off the bat. And he knows your tone. You weren’t joking one bit. His mind was racing through what felt like numerous mountains of anxiety and anticipation. In that second, there was nothing he’d like more than to kiss you. 

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. It’s 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. 

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. 

“Was that good?” You ask him, teasing. 

“That was good, babe,” he laughs, “That was real good. I liked that a lot.”

Letting out a soft chuckle, you tell him, “I did too.”

“Can we do that more often?” he tries, leading to rounds of shy laughter to echo through the walls of the room. 

Snapping out of your memories, you clear your throat. “Yes, what about it?”

Michael reaches and cradles your face, “Well, that was quite literally… one of the best things to ever happen to me. I loved that night. I loved kissin’ you. I loved it so damn much, and I assumed– I assumed you loved it too. I didn’t say anythin’ about you bein’ 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 didn’t know where you stand on that, but I figured we’d only feel like this towards each other.”

You lean into the palm of his hand, and he leans down and presses a kiss against your temple, continuing gently, “I didn’t think we needed any establishing. I thought you already knew I’d… I’m so in love with you, baby. I fall in love with you more and more each day. But it’s my fault for, well, for not telling you properly. For assuming. I’m really sorry, I should have said something sooner.” His voice is bordering on sounding pained now, but you hush him.

“Mikey, gosh, stop, you’re fine. You’re perfect, don’t be sorry,” you whisper as you leave kisses on his forehead, down his nose and to the apples of his cheeks. “We’re both really stupid.”

He laughs and pulls you closer, if it’s even possible. “Tell me about it. Baby, I really am sorry. Please forgive me?”

“Shh, I forgive you, and I hope you’ll forgive me too. I’m sorry,” you say.

“There’s nothin’ to forgive. You didn’t know. See how funny that sounds now? God, I could just hit myself,” he sighs heavily. “Sweetheart, are we together officially now? I want you to be my girl. Been wantin’ that for years, if you must know.”

You teasingly grin and shrug, “I don’t know… Quite presumptuous of you, already calling me your girl.”

“Baby, I’ve seen the way you look at me,” Michael smirks smugly, “It’s not wholly my fault for thinkin’ we’re together when you gaze at me the way you do.”

“I don’t gaze at you,” you gasp.

His arms snake around your waist again, pulling you closer and nodding dramatically. “Yes, you do and I can’t blame you, baby. I’d want to be my girl, too.” Swatting at his chest, you could only laugh in response.

“I’m serious, y’know? I’d like for you to be my girl. And just mine. No foolin’ around with this amateur stuff,” he says in a quiet tone, “I want you. You’re my best friend and I’ve 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?”

A soft hum escapes you, “Michael, I love you too. God, I love you so much.”

He doesn’t 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 wasn’t 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 you’re 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. 

Leaving small pecks against your lips before kissing down your neck, he murmurs against your skin, “I love you.”

You could only hum dazedly, weakening as he continues his ministrations on your skin. “I’m so glad you’ll have me, baby.” He continues to whisper.

A final kiss to your lips, he pulls away to softly grin at you. “Tell that Kevin schmuck to kindly get out of your life, please?”

“It’s Calvin, honey.”