rene the it girl.

Neverland Valley Ranch, 1993

To say you and Michael were an anomaly to the public is just as much a fact as saying the sky is blue. You, all wit, and humour and inquisition, and Michael, all gentleness, raw passion, and quiet authority. So insanely different yet similar. Both taking the world by a raging storm. Two of the most well known people in the world at this time. And when you both got together in '84?

Pandemonium.

You weren’t an uncommon topic to each other in interviews, dedications, or your creative projects. But never had you done an interview together.

Then came along Oprah Winfrey. You both had individual interviews, which were predicted to be the biggest televised events in history. But little did you both know, she wanted to sneak in a little something- a dual interview. Both of you, answering questions as a couple. An engaged couple. Michael didn’t know what to think at first. He wasn’t against the idea, in fact he thought it would be a good chance to show the world your dynamic in a truthful way, in a way that would show that is was meant to be, against odds. But he had one, single quarrel.

You, have little filter.

Don’t get him wrong, you do apply media training in some areas. You maintain an image, you're consistent, and you know how to keep tact. But that does not stop you from being honest. Ever. About anything. It's a wonder your management only lets you off with a warning. The press, as usual, always has something to say;

'Y/N L/N, HOLLYWOOD'S LOUDMOUTH!'

'Y/N SNAPS AT REPORTER; JACKSON'S WIFE GONE ROGUE?!'

'THE QUEEN OF POP, OR THE QUEEN OF CRUDE?'

Honestly, it was comical. They would report, but could barely twist what you say; because you leave no room for speculation. You just say it. Unless you're teasing. There's many attractive qualities in you, but your sharp tongue and keen eye for details is what helped you rise to fame. You speak directly to fans, laugh at paparazzi in their face, and talk back to reporters who should've been blacklisted by now.

And it's what got Michael hooked too.

Stunning, kind-hearted, classy, painfully understanding, and the most genuine person he ever met? That man is at your beck and call even when you have not said a word. Putting a ring on your finger was the wisest decision he has ever made, if he may say so himself.

The lights in the living room blared with heat, the sounds of crew and tech support flocking about in preparation before the ad break ended. You sat beside him, looking like a goddess, a movie star, and so utterly yourself. Bootleg jeans, paisley cut top, boots, hair done in such a way it shone like diamonds. It took valiant effort to not gawk at you in front of everyone.

Your gaze was on where your palms met, your thumb tracing the skin of his hand like you were mapping a territory you were already familiar with, to where it came with ease.

Oprah was off to the side of the room, hair and makeup crew flaunting around her like a flock of birds.

Michael's gaze drifted to you. "Are you ready?"

Your eyes moved from where your hands met to meet his, and he recognised the familiar twinkle that glinted in them when you would look at him. It was something he could never understand- how you looked at him and saw an angel. But he supposed he couldn't question it too much, because he knows he shares the same twinkle in his own eyes whenever you're in his line of sight.

"Yeah, of course." You say, keeping eye contact. It's broken when Oprah sits on the chair in front of you both, the camera's readying.

"Live and rolling in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, action!"

The cameras panned towards the three of you, at all angles.

"Welcome back, we hope you all enjoyed your break," Oprah said enthusiastically, "we are back with Michael, and, another very surprise guest, Y/n L/n is here with us! Y/n, how are you feeling today?'

"I'm feeling good, thank you. How are you?"

"I am just wonderful, to have the two of you here together, your first double interview, it is such an honour. Now, my first question for you both: The engagement! Congratulations, both of you. This has been a long time coming. Any big plans?"

You answered first. "No, we're just having something small and private, with out loved ones present afterwards. A small gathering."

"Really?" Oprah questions. "I would have expected something extravagant, that seems to be on brand."

"We like our quiet." Michael says simply.

"Very well. Moving on, you have both shared briefly the story of how you first met, but would you want to share it in full? I think everyone watching would want to know."

You didn't miss it- 'everyone watching would want to know'. You had heard this tactic before. Commercial peer pressuring for the sake of a good media coverage, on behalf of the consumers. And you knew how it made Michael slightly more reclusive.

"I'm okay with sharing whatever he's okay with sharing." You say with a shrug.

"You can share what you like." Michael says gently, nodding.

you nod back, and begin sharing;

"Well, in 1984, was doing a small tour with the band I was in initially, who are now my band for my own tours. We were in Indianapolis, and we had had a show at a community fair that we got as an extra gig at. Of course, on that same evening, The Jackson family was passing through. Michael and Janet insisted they take a look around the fair, just to stretch their legs. Thank the stars, everyone else agreed it would be nice. Even with the onslaughts of security and fans they knew would flock them. So, they went in, and in the span of 3 hours, which was way longer than anticipated, Michael won every damn game in the showgrounds."

"That was strategic!" Michael protested bashfully.

"Strategic for what?"

"…..fun. Having fun, best business of all."

You chuckled, and Oprah smiled.

"Anyway, after stealing the fair prizes dreams of many small children, they just walked about, ate, and did what felt right. Michael, having ears like a hawk, heard us from near the main stage. Survival and security instincts be damned, he followed the sound. I don’t know how he managed to blend into the crowd the whole time. By the time we had finished our set and packed up, we went to the back of the fair, which we make-shifted into a dressing room. Minutes later, this big, burly man, who I afterwards learned was Mike's bodyguard, Bill, told us the Jackson's had been at the fair, including Michael. He wanted us to follow him to meet Michael. Thank god for our backup vocalist Brittany, she was the only one who recognised Bill from photos. So we knew it was legit. I, on the other hand, was- will this bleep on the TV if I swear?"

"Yes." Oprah answers.

"Good, because I was shitting myself." You grinned with amusement when you saw Michael bite his lip to hold back a laugh. "I was a massive fan of Michael. Not a weird one, but still big enough to be shaking. But by the time I got to his hotel in the city, and actually met him... I don’t think I've ever felt as calm. Safe. Listened to. Not only was he incredibly accommodating, and patient, but he made sure we were all included. And as time got later, the others left. It was just Michael and I. It could have just been chance, or the stars aligning, but we definitely connected. It was so real. No fabrication, no masking, no... lies. Which I knew Michael was a genuine and kind person, but I really don’t think I have ever felt as comfortable. And that hasn’t changed. We just hung out the rest of the evening, and watched movies, ate from room service, talked about whatever came to mind."

"And nothing else?" Oprah asked.

Your eyes and posture shifted on her directly.

"Why is that expected?"

"Well, it's just, a man and a woman alone in a hotel room, with a supposed chemistry, what else is there to interpret?"

"Hmmm, I dunno, maybe just- kindness? Purity? Laughter? Fun? If you want sex stories, find someone else. That isn't our beginning. I don’t know why people are so desperate to even know, like, not 'what's your favourite date you've been on', but 'doggy style or missionary'."

The entire room is in silence.

Oprah is gawking, blinking in astonishment and if you catch it enough, embarrassment.

Michael, has his knuckles pressed against his lips, eyes closed, shoulders shaking in suppressed laughter.

"Well." Oprah says after a moment. "That.... is true. Just asking the curious questions. Pardon me. Continue."

"Well," you say, exaggerated, "while we were not getting it on, as suspected, we bonded over a lot. Past memories, interests, opinions, films, music. A lot of things that laid a foundation for what we are now. We ended up falling asleep, and sleeping in. We woke to Bill and one of my bandmates knocking at the door at 11:30 the next morning."

"And where did it go from there?" Oprah asked, turning her gaze to Michael.

"We exchanged numbers, and went our different ways. But we called every night, and when I had to be in a different time zone for whatever reason, we lined up our schedules to make sure we still could."

"Yeah, and one time you forgot, and rang me at 3:45 in the morning." You quip.

"I had slept for 2 hours, and didn’t know what day it was, mind you."

"Suree."

Michael laughed, his knee bumping yours.

"And how did you begin dating? How did that come about?" Oprah leaned closer in her seat.

"Well, by the 3 month mark, whether we had seen each other in person, or over the phone, I knew I was in love. Very deeply. I had never felt like that. I knew we had a bond, but me being me, I was very worried she didn’t feel the same. So I decided to trial it, and ask her on a date, which she agreed to. We rented out a movie theatre, and watched lots of films. But the whole time we were talking, analysing it, making silly commentary. I've never laughed more, truly. After that, we drove back to my place, and at this point, I was still living at Hayvenhurst, while Neverland was still being built. We had the whole house to ourselves that night. Lets just say that my other and Joseph weren’t happy with how they found the house the next morning. God, we left photo albums around the living room, we made giant sundaes in the kitchen and forgot to put the ingredients back, our music collections were in such a state of disorganisation. You'd have thought a bunch of children came in!" He laughed. "I hadn’t felt that happy in a long time. A long time. It’s one of my favourite memories."

Oprah smiled. "When was the first kiss?"

"The third date. She initiated it."

You grin teasingly. "Because you were too shy!"

"You say that like it's something surprising!" He whines, pressing his face to your shoulder to hide.

"As he was saying", you grin, "we kissed on the third date and by then, we couldn’t hide the feelings from one another. But it wasn’t until the fifth date that we actually said it. We were at my house, and we managed to get onto the roof, and watch the stars. He leaned over and kissed me, and told me he loved me. No hesitation, no 'I like you, be my girlfriend', just a simple I love you. I wanted to say it back, but there was a part of me that felt almost like I didn’t deserve it. Or if I said it, something would slip up and ruin the moment. But I knew I did, and I wasn’t gonna waste the chance. So I said it. From there, we went over what we wanted together, boundaries, labels, etcetera. And we officially got together."

"And now years later, here you are, engaged. How did he propose?"

"Well, we've been engaged since last year, and our wedding is approaching. He proposed to me on our anniversary. He planned a whole trip, we we were in the Swiss alps. And on the night of our anniversary, he proposed. You bet your life I said yes in an instant."

"And Michael, what was that like for you?"

Michael, now recovered, smiled, present in the nostalgia. "It was everything. My whole future was suddenly before me, and it was the happiest I had ever felt. I was over the moon."

"Are children included in that future?"

Yours and Michael's eyes met, grins spreading wider.

"Absolutely." He answers.

"Yes." You say.

"Your own?" Oprah presses.

"That's the plan." Michael says. "But we've talked about it, and adoptions isn’t off the charts. Our children would be ours regardless. And there is nothing more I want than Y/n to be the mother of my children She's wonderful with kids."

"That's beautiful." Oprah says, and you catch the genuineness in her tone. "Michael, as well as yourself, Y/n is one of the biggest, if not the biggest female musician in the world at this point in time. What's that like for the both of you, to be working constantly, performing, writing, fundraisers?"

"There are times it can be challenging, as expected, but we manage to sync our schedules a lot. Especially for tour, releases, things like that. The big things, so we have a chance to not only support each other, but have even more time together, and then also independently. We've structured a good dynamic."

"Do you have any collaborative projects coming in the future?"

"We'd like to do something, absolutely." You say. "We help each other in individual work, but as a pair, we've come up with a lot of ideas. It's executing them that's the feat. And this one is a control freak." You say, nodding to Michael.

"Excuse me?" He jokingly gapes. "I am an innovator of art, a patron of creation. I take it serious."

"I've seen you cry over spilled ink."

"It got on my notes and I had to start again! And I know you ain't talking, getting snarky when someone breathes too loud when you write."

"Goodness forbid a woman had sensitive hearing and a sharp temper. Arrest me."

Oprah watches on in amusement, not having expected the effortless banter. To her initially, it was an opportunity to get in front of the cameras and unlock secrets. But now to her, and the viewers, it's simple. You both may be award winning, show stopping superstars, but you're also just a fun couple in a very weird, but lucky, situation.

"Y/n, what's your dynamic with Michael's family?"

"Oh, I love them. So much. They welcomed me in quickly, and they treat me as one of their own."

"Who are you closest with?"

"I'd say Jackie or LaToya. And Katherine."

"What's your relationship like with Joeseph."

You still, biting your lips in a slow, menacing grin.

"Y/n." Michael warns, not scolding, but knowing.

"Just this once. Please?"

He sighs, knowing what onslaught you're about to verbally lay on his dad.

"Fine."

You turn to Oprah.

"Is he a good businessman? Yes. Do I have a respect in some career aspects? Yes. Otherwise? Fuck that man. To the deepest pits of hell. Michael is so much better than me, because if I had a chance, that man would be crying, on his knees, like pitiful stray. He knows it, his family knows I feel this way, I've said similar around them, and each time, I wipe the floor with him. He's all talk and can not handle when fed the truth. He thrives on dominance, but to me, is a wet paper towel. I can stay civil around him, but I can also insult him to his face in the right moments. He's a melting blob of horse shit, I yearn for the day karma slaps that dude in the face. Or y'know, he gains self awareness."

"Has he ever insulted you back?"

"Yep. But I'm quicker."

"Michael, how do you feel about that?"

"I mean.... it's not ideal. I do hope they reach an agreement and point of forgiveness. But they're also both adults, and I trust they both know when enough is enough."

"That's a good mindset to have. Now, my final question, on a very much lighter note; what, to you, are your favourite things about each other? What draws you in?"

Michael answers first, without hesitation.

"Her heart. Her soul. Her kindness. She's honest, and shows that in many ways, but she is deeply kind. She's empathetic, and loving to everyone, but she had a backbone. Which is attractive. That balance of gentleness and fire, it's beautiful. The way her mind works, it's so specific, and intriguing, I can’t help but want to know more. She's wonderful with children, as I said before. Everytime we visit a hospital, or orphanage, or school, she does wonders for the children. On stage, she's a goddess. The way captivates the audience and creates an atmosphere of wonder, and self care, and accommodation, it's so beautifully done. Her art, in all ways, is made with such depth. And then the way she cares for me. I have never felt such love, tenderness. It makes me feel almost unworthy, that I have someone with so much patience, and understanding. She is the most wonderful gift from God I have. Everything I do, everything I've done, all of it is endured and done with her as my anchor."

By now, you have to look at your lap, to not meet his gaze and start bawling. He of course notices.

"Oh," He chuckles softly, pulling you close, and pressing a kiss to your head.

"What does that make you feel, Y/n?" Oprah grins, seeing how deep his words hit you.

"I feel like I'm dreaming, constantly." You say, grabbing a tissue to make sure your tears don’t smudge your face.

"I don’t know what I did to deserve this. I love him, with my whole being. He's just.... everything he said of me, and more. His kindness and the care he has for the world, it's inexplicable how it feels. I wish I could put it into words, but it's such a specific emotion. It's too deep to verbalise."

"That's more than okay. Michael, Y/n, thank you so very much for your time. This is such an honour." Oprah says, and you exchange thanks back to her. She announces the break, and you breathe a silent sigh of relief.

In the waiting period between the break and when Michael goes back to the interview individually, he pulls you aside, to another room close by.

"Are you okay?" He asks gently, hands on your waist, one coming to brush a small, stray tear away.

"Yeah. I just..... everything you said to me. About me. You say it so much, but the way you did then, it made me feel even more special. You do so much for me, and I don’t know how to repay you." You say with a teary smile.

"Never feel like you have to repay me for loving you." He says, soft but firm. "You're the light of my entire world. you loving me back in all the ways you do is more than enough for me. You're my treasure, my gift, and my heart. Never forget that." He kisses you with such softness,, but such emotion, it makes you cling to him tighter.

Once pulled away, you press your head on his shoulder. He hugs you back with a vehement devotion. In this moment you share the same unspoken feeling, of having such an intrinsic and reliant love, that goes deeper than any ocean or higher than any mountain peak. Even in those 20 minutes of TV time, the world will never truly know the capacity of your emotions for each other.

He tilts his head to look at you. "I should get back before they think I'm done for the evening."

You nod, putting a step of distance between you both. "Good idea."

He smiles, and turns away, pauses, then turns back, leaning in. "And for the record...." He leans closer, and nips slightly at your neck, electrocuting your nerves. "Once all these crew and lights are out of here, I plan to show you exactly how much I love you."

He winks (or tries to), and saunters off, leaving you alone in the room, with the ghost of his touch, warmth of his lips, anticipation, and the set in stone knowledge you have hit the lifelong jackpot with that man.