manager! Michael with glasses like hello!!! Like imagine him gazing at you through his glasses, reading scripts or lyrics together, maybe him looking over your shoulder as you piece a song together and he’s so close AGHHANSJ
the most frustrating part is that michael doesn't even know how attractive he is with his glasses. much like how it took him two or three eras to realize he was sexy (sexy enough to get away with thrusting into the air and pressing his hips down onto the stage, at least), it takes him a while to grasp that you find him hot with glasses on. to him, sliding his glasses off and tentatively tucking the end of one arm between his lips is simply a childish thinking habit. to you? it's not just eye candy, it's eye cake, eye ice cream, eye "that expensive dessert off a fancy menu that you can't pronounce but absolutely adore". or maybe it's more similar to the main course, considering how much you also love what comes after: watching michael put his glasses back on. he's mastered the flick of the wrist, oftentimes using the quick motion to unfold his glasses' arms before he slides them back onto his face. then he'll look to you, curious as to why you're staring, completely unaware of how he'd basically given you a free show.
not to mention all the times he'd lean over your shoulder. a soft breath escapes his lips as he murmurs a small "let me look" while you work on a song's chords or lyrics. michael gives a quiet hum, pointing to a certain section and offering his advice, but all you can focus on is how his glasses slip down the ridge of his nose, settling down at the very end.
"you listening?" he asks, nudging you with his shoulder, "i don't talk just to hear myself speak, y'know."
you blink, dragging your gaze away from his glasses and nose upwards to his eyes, which are already focused on you. "sorry, sorry. say it one more time?"
he shakes his head, black hair shimmying as he does so (the combination of his glasses and his hair is almost too much. he wants to distract you, doesn't he?). "i was just saying that..."
worst of all is how he looks at you with his glasses on. how he peers at you overtop of his lenses when they slide down his nose. how he smiles with his eyes every so often from across the studio, a silent praise of a sound done properly or a lyric that's exceptionally impactful. "look at me" has become your least favorite phrase to hear from michael, only because looking directly at him makes everything so much worse.
"is it the color of my glasses?" he asks suddenly one day while lounging on your couch. another studio session ended, another night where he'd invited himself over to your place because his house is "too quiet" when the kids are with his ex-wife. that might've been the reason when he first came over, but these last few times? you're not so sure. "is it the shape? what don't you like about them?"
you tilt your head from where you sit on the other end. you and michael's feet meet in the middle even with both your legs curled, and every couple of minutes michael taps your foot with his. "what do you mean?"
"you know what i mean. you don't like looking at me when i have them on. but, you also stare when you think i'm not looking," he says, "i can get different glasses, if you hate these ones."
"i don't hate your glasses, michael," you chuckle a little, "it's the opposite. i find them... dashing, let's say."
"dashing?" he repeats. after a pause, he lets his foot bump against one of your own, "elaborate."
"dashing. handsome. attractive. some might even say sexy."
he turns to fully face you, a small smirk growing on his lips, "so you think they're sexy?"
you shrug, "some might say it."
he lets out a short, breathy laugh, tucking some of his hair behind his left ear. "right. so it's just dashing to you, my appearance with my glasses on. noted."
"exactly," you reply, feigning casualness. "i'm sure you have moments when you think i look dashing, too."
michael's response comes all too quickly. "oh, i do." he's being just as flippant as you are about it, pretending that all musical stars have this sort of conversation with their manager.
"elaborate?" you tilt your head towards him, and suddenly the casualness is much harder to fake. was it ever not serious, you and him along this couch?
"no further comments," he declares, flashing a cheeky grin.
...it's far more frustrating when he knows he's sexy than when he doesn't.
him with his glasses slipped down his nose + fidgeting with his wedding ring (which he has yet to take off, even while flirting with you...). i am sickkkk i love him. i also feel very strongly that it takes michael a minute to realize ppl find things abt him sexy... what's very obvious to us is like a revelation to him. i just know when you tell him he's like, "really, you find that sexy?". and then to tease he adds, "wow, your bar's low". smh my head i need him.
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