᭝ ᨳଓ ՟

FEBRUARY 25, 1986

you stand backstage at the 28th annual grammy awards with the soft hum of the audience drifting through the curtains like a warm tide, the air buzzing with the kind of electricity that only nights like this can hold, and you breathe in slowly as you go over your lines for the third time, whispering them under your breath while your fingers trace the cue cards even though you already know every word by heart, your pulse steady but alert because you want everything to be perfect, not just for the show but because you know he is somewhere out there in the crowd watching you with those dark eyes that always make your stomach flutter, and the thought alone sends a quiet warmth through your chest as you straighten your posture and prepare to step into the lights.

the stage manager gives you a gentle nod and you walk out into the golden glow of the auditorium, the applause rising like a wave that washes over you as you smile at the sea of faces, the cameras, the glittering gowns and tuxedos, the shimmering set pieces that catch the light like jewels, and you let your voice carry with practiced grace as you welcome everyone, your tone warm and confident even though your heart is beating a little faster than usual because you know he is somewhere in the audience listening to every word. "good evening everyone and welcome to the twenty eighth annual grammy awards, we are so excited to celebrate the incredible music and artistry that defined this past year, thank you all for being here tonight."

you hold the microphone with both hands as the applause settles, the lights softening just enough to let you see the first few rows of the audience, and your gaze flickers instinctively toward the spot where you know he is seated, catching only the faint outline of his silhouette, the familiar tilt of his head, the quiet stillness of his posture that always gives him away, and even from this distance you feel the invisible thread between you tighten, a secret connection woven through months of stolen moments and whispered conversations and careful glances that no one else has ever noticed.

you continue with your lines, introducing the first categories of the night, your voice steady and smooth as you guide the audience through the ceremony, and each time you step offstage you feel the adrenaline settle into your bones like a soft hum, the backstage crew moving around you with practiced precision, the sound of applause rising and falling like a heartbeat behind the curtains, and you take a moment to breathe, to center yourself, to remind yourself that you are here to work even though your heart keeps drifting toward him like a compass that cannot help but point north.

when it is time for you to present the next award, you step back into the lights with a smile that feels natural and warm, the audience greeting you with another wave of applause, and you read the nominees with clear, confident rhythm before opening the envelope with a practiced flourish, your voice lifting as you announce the winner, the crowd erupting as the popular male artist makes his way toward the stage with a bright grin and an energy that fills the room, his excitement contagious as he climbs the steps and approaches you with open arms.

you expect a handshake or a quick hug, something simple and professional, but instead he leans in with a warm smile and presses a friendly kiss to your cheek, his hand resting lightly on your arm as he murmurs his thanks for your support on the charity project you worked on together, and you feel your breath catch in surprise as the audience reacts with soft laughter and applause, your cheeks warming as you laugh awkwardly and try to keep your composure, reminding yourself that it is harmless, that it is friendly, that it is nothing more than a gesture of appreciation in front of a room full of people.

you step aside to give him space for his acceptance speech, your smile polite and steady even though your mind is still catching up with the unexpected moment, and as the lights shift to focus on him you let your gaze drift toward the audience again, searching instinctively for the one face that matters most, and when you find him your breath catches because michael isn’t just tense, he’s wound so tightly he looks like he might snap if anyone so much as brushes against him. his jaw isn’t only clenched, it’s locked, the muscle ticking beneath his skin as if he’s fighting every instinct in his body not to get up and drag you off that stage, his eyes don’t just stay on you, they burn into you, dark and sharp and unblinking that sends a shiver down your spine as his fingers curl harder against his knee, knuckles whitening, breath tightening in his chest.

he tries to hide it, he really does, but you know him too well, you know the way his emotions flicker beneath the surface like sparks waiting to catch fire, and you can see the jealousy simmering in the tightness of his shoulders, the way he shifts in his seat as if trying to shake off the image of another man’s lips on your cheek, the way his gaze keeps darting between you and the artist onstage as if replaying the moment over and over in his mind, each repetition tightening something inside him until he looks like he might burst from the pressure alone.

the artist continues his speech, completely unaware of the storm brewing in michael’s chest, thanking his team and the fans and the people who supported the charity project, his voice warm and enthusiastic as the audience applauds again, and you keep your expression calm even though you can practically feel the jealousy radiating off him, thick and hot, filling the space between you even from across the room. it’s in the way he won’t blink, the way his lips press into a thin line, the way his foot taps once, twice, three times before he forces it still. he’s trying to stay composed for the cameras, for the crowd, for the moment, but his eyes give him away completely. they’re dark with something possessive, something wounded, something that says he didn’t expect to see another man’s mouth anywhere near you tonight.

when the segment ends and you walk offstage, your heart is still fluttering from the intensity of his stare, your mind replaying the moment in the same way you know he is, and as you step into the dim backstage hallway you press a hand to your cheek where the kiss landed, not because it meant anything but because you know it meant something to him, and the thought alone makes your chest tighten with a mix of affection and worry as you wait for the next cue, the distant sound of applause echoing through the walls like a reminder that the night is far from over.

you lean against the backstage wall for a moment, letting the cool surface steady you as you go over your next lines, your voice soft as you rehearse under your breath, and even though you are alone for now you can still feel the weight of his gaze lingering on your skin, a silent promise that the night will only grow more intense from here, and you close your eyes for a moment, breathing in the charged air of the grammy awards, knowing that the real storm has only just begun.

you stay backstage for a few minutes after your last presentation, letting the noise of the audience settle into a distant hum as you breathe in the dim hallway, the soft glow of the backstage bulbs warming your skin while you rehearse your next lines under your breath, your voice low and steady as you try to shake off the lingering awkwardness from earlier, your fingers brushing your cheek again even though you keep telling yourself it was nothing, just a friendly gesture, just a moment that should not matter, yet you can still feel the ghost of michael’s stare like a hand closing around your ribs, tightening with every breath you take.

the stage manager calls your name again and you straighten your shoulders, smoothing your gown as you step toward the curtain, your heart beating a little faster because this category is bigger, heavier, more important, and you want to deliver it perfectly, especially knowing he is out there somewhere watching you with that quiet intensity that always makes your pulse skip, and as you step into the lights again the applause rises like a warm tide, the golden glow washing over you as you smile at the audience with practiced grace.

you hold the microphone with both hands, grounding yourself in the familiar weight of it as you begin to speak, your voice steady and warm as you welcome the audience back from the short break, the cameras gliding across the room like silent birds while the crowd settles into their seats, and you let your gaze sweep gently across the front rows, your eyes catching the faint outline of his silhouette again, the soft shimmer of his jacket, the stillness of his posture that tells you he has not relaxed since the moment he saw that kiss.

you inhale slowly, letting the moment settle before you continue, your voice carrying clearly through the auditorium. "it is my honor to present one of the most meaningful categories of the night, a category that celebrates the power of music to move us, to unite us, and to change the world. these are the nominees for song of the year." the screens behind you light up with clips and audio, the audience reacting with soft murmurs and applause as each nominee appears, and you stand poised and elegant, your heart thudding quietly beneath your ribs as you hold the envelope in your hand.

when the final nominee fades and the applause settles, you open the envelope with careful precision, your breath catching for a moment as you read the name printed inside, and you lift your gaze to the audience with a soft smile that feels both warm and electric. "and the grammy for song of the year goes to… we are the world, michael jackson and lionel richie."

the room erupts into applause, cheers rising like a wave that shakes the floor beneath your feet, and you look toward the aisle where he stands, his expression unreadable for a moment as he rises from his seat, but then his eyes lock onto yours and everything inside you stills because he is not looking at the audience, he is not looking at the cameras, he is not even looking at the stage itself, he is looking only at you, his gaze sharp and unwavering as he begins to walk toward you with a new calmness that feels too controlled, too deliberate, like a storm holding itself together by sheer force of will, and beside him lionel richie rises as well, moving with him up the aisle like it’s the most natural thing in the world, smiling at the crowd but clearly aware of where this is going, and as they reach the steps lionel goes first, pulling you into a warm, effortless side hug that makes you laugh softly through the shock of it all, his hand patting your shoulder in genuine pride as he murmurs something you barely catch before he steps back with an approving grin.

you swallow hard as he moves toward you, each step drawing the world in tighter until everything else fades into a soft blur. your fingers clamp around the envelope, the paper bending under the tension, but his eyes stay fixed on yours with a steady focus that makes the crowd feel distant and unimportant. the air seems to shift as he gets closer, warm and dense, settling over your skin like something quietly electric.

when he reaches you, he slips an arm around your waist with a certainty that steals your breath. his touch isn’t forceful, just sure, like he’s anchoring you in place without needing to say a word. he looks down at you with his head tilted slightly to the side, studying you with a softness that makes your chest tighten. his teeth catch lightly on his lower lip, a small, unguarded gesture that gives away how much this moment matters to him. and even through all that tenderness, you can still sense the jealousy flickering in his eyes, a faint shadow beneath the warmth. it is not harsh or angry, just a quiet ache he cannot hide, something that tightens his hold on your waist for a heartbeat. his hand squeezes gently, not enough to hurt, just enough to let you feel the emotion he is trying so hard to keep contained.

then he leans in and kisses you.

not a quick peck, not a shy brush of lips, but a soft, sure, deliberate kiss that melts the entire room into silence for a heartbeat before the audience explodes into gasps and cheers and applause, the sound crashing over you like a tidal wave as your eyes flutter shut for a moment, your heart racing wildly as his lips linger just long enough to make it clear that this is not a mistake, not a slip, not a friendly gesture, but a declaration, a reveal, a claim spoken without words in front of the entire music industry.

when he pulls back, he gives you a small, playful wink that makes your stomach flip, his hand brushing your waist one last time before he turns to accept the award from you, his fingers brushing yours with a warmth as he takes the grammy into his hands, the crowd still roaring with excitement as he steps toward the microphone with that soft, shy smile that always makes people melt.

he waits for the applause to settle, his posture relaxed but his eyes flicking toward you every few seconds with a quiet possessiveness that only you can read, and when he finally speaks his voice is gentle, warm, and full of gratitude. "thank you, thank you so much." he pauses as the applause rises again, his smile widening before he continues. "i want to thank lionel, first of all, for being such an incredible partner in creating this song. he is a true friend and a true artist, and i am so grateful for everything we were able to do together."

he shifts the award in his hands, his voice softening with sincerity. "i want to thank every artist who came together for this project, everyone who gave their time and their hearts to something bigger than all of us. this song was made with love, with hope, and with the belief that we can make the world a better place when we stand together."

the audience applauds again, "and of course, i want to thank the fans, because none of this would be possible without your love and your support. you inspire me every single day, and i am so grateful for you."

he pauses, his smile turning a little mischievous, his eyes sliding toward you again with a glimmer that makes your breath catch. "and, um… i guess i should also say…" he lifts the grammy slightly, his tone light but unmistakably pointed. "some people should be a little more careful about kissing another man's lady."

the audience bursts into laughter, cheers rising as people clap and whistle, the cameras catching your face as your cheeks burn with embarrassment and surprise, your hand lifting instinctively to cover your mouth as you try not to laugh, and michael just smiles, that soft, cheeky smile that tells you he knows exactly what he is doing, exactly how flustered he is making you, and he is enjoying every second of it.

he finishes with a warm, humble thank you before stepping away from the microphone, and as he walks back toward you he gives you another small wink, his fingers brushing your waist again as he passes, the touch subtle but full of meaning, and you feel your heart flutter helplessly as he heads back down the steps, the audience still buzzing with excitement from the unexpected reveal.

you stand there for a moment, trying to steady your breathing as the cameras cut away and the stage manager ushers you offstage, your mind spinning, your cheeks still warm, your heart pounding with a mix of shock and affection and something deeper, something that feels like it has been waiting to surface for a long time, and as you step into the dim backstage hallway again you know he will find you soon, and you know the conversation waiting between you will be one you will never forget.

the hallway feels calmer than the stage, dimmer and softer, the noise of the grammy crowd fading into a distant echo as you step into the quiet. you’re still warm from the lights, still breathless from everything that happened, your mind replaying the moment he kissed you in front of everyone like a scene you can’t quite believe is real. you press your hand lightly to your lips, trying to steady yourself, when you hear him behind you, his footsteps slow and sure, carrying that familiar mix of confidence and emotion that always gives him away.

when you turn, he’s already watching you, his grammy tucked under one arm, his shoulders relaxed but his eyes still burning with that jealousy he hasn’t shaken off yet. he walks toward you with a softness that contradicts the storm you know is still swirling inside him, and when he reaches you he stops close enough that you can feel the warmth of him settle around you like a blanket. his voice is gentle when he speaks, even though his eyes are still sharp with emotion. "you okay baby?" he asks quietly, his hand brushing your arm in a way that makes your breath catch. "i didn’t mean to overwhelm you out there."

you nod, though your heart is still racing, and he studies your face for a moment, searching for any sign of discomfort. when he finds none, his expression shifts, softening into something warm but edged with that quiet, simmering jealousy he’s trying so hard to keep under control. "i just… i couldn’t sit there and watch that," he murmurs, "him kissin' you like that. i know it was friendly, i know it didn’t mean anything, but it still…" he trails off, shaking his head slightly, his jaw tightening for a moment before he exhales slowly. "it still bothered me."

you whisper his name softly, and he gives a small smile, one that’s both apologetic and a little proud, like he knows he’s being ridiculous but he also knows he’d do it all again. "i’m not gonna pretend i wasn’t jealous," he says, his voice low and honest. "i was. i still am." he leans in a little, his voice dropping to a softer tone. "but i’m glad everyone knows now. i’m glad they know who my woman is... the woman i get to love."

your cheeks warm instantly, and he notices, his smile turning a little smug but still gentle, still full of affection. "guess i made the night a little more interesting." he adds, his tone playful but certain. lifting the grammy slightly, his eyes glimmering with pride.

you roll your eyes at him, but you’re smiling, and he sees it, his expression softening again as he cups your jaw with one hand, his thumb brushing your skin with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. "you did amazing tonight," he whispers. "i’m so proud of you."

you tell him you’re proud of him too, and his smile grows, warm and bright, the kind of smile that lights up his whole face. he glances down at the grammy in his hand, then back at you, and the warmth in his eyes deepens. "i got my award," he says softly. "and i got you. that’s all i wanted tonight."

he leans in closer, his voice dropping into something playful, something that makes your stomach twist. "c’mon," he murmurs, kissing your temple. "let’s go home so i can show you how jealous i was."

your eyes widen and you slap his chest lightly, your voice a shocked whisper. "michael!" he laughs softly, the sound warm and sweet, his shoulders shaking just a little as he catches your hand gently, his fingers curling around yours with an ease that makes your heart flutter.

"i’m teasing," he says, though the sparkle in his eyes tells you he’s enjoying every second of your reaction. "but i do wanna get you out of here."

you’re still flustered, still warm, but you’re smiling, and he sees it, his own smile stretching wider as he gives your hand a gentle tug. he leads you down the hallway toward the exit, his grammy tucked under his arm, his fingers laced with yours like he’s never letting go. when he pushes open the door to the cool night air, the limo waiting just outside, he glances back at you with a look so full of pride and happiness it makes your chest swell.

he’s got his grammy. he’s got his girl. and he looks like he’s floating.

you squeeze his hand, your smile soft and full, and he squeezes back, his voice low and warm as he whispers, "let’s go home."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ★

y/n was almost a hundred percent certain that her boyfriend was the reason why post-it-notes were always sold out.

michael used them everywhere.

song lyrics that sprung to his mind, his own affirmations to make himself feel better, reminders to call people and discuss arrangements.

but y/n’s favourite? the little handwritten notes he’d leave all round the house, just for her eyes.

no one else’s.

just for her.

she remembered the first time he’d done it, leaving a single note on the kitchen counter beside a stack of pancakes.

i made you breakfast, hope it’s as sweet as you - mj

she’d laughed at that one, remembering how her cheeks had flushed pink. it was silly, but god, it was so him.

after that, it just…kept happening.

not in a big, obvious way. michael didn’t announce it, didn’t make a show of it.

it became as normal to her as waking up and brushing her teeth.

and somehow, michael had always made sure she’d see them, putting them in places he knew she’d notice.

on the bathroom mirror; make sure you drink some water baby - mj

on the front door; tie your laces this time baby - mj

that one had made her huff - she’d tripped over once. once! and he’d still made sure to keep nagging her about it.

“dramatic,” y/n rolled her eyes, snatching the piece of paper of the door and stuffing it into her pocket.

but still, she tied her laces.

and later that day, she’d found one stuck meekly by the shoe rack next to the door.

take the umbrella, it might rain today - mj

and he’d placed it down neatly against the wall already.

❀❀❀❀

y/n kicked off her shoes, shaking the umbrella outside the front door before she propped it up neatly against the wall to dry.

of course, michael had been right about it potentially raining on her walk.

she slipped off her coat, reaching for the two notes from earlier.

they were warm, michael’s cute little handwriting perfect on them.

truthfully, she hadn’t thrown a single note away.

at first, she’d kept them because they made her laugh - the slightly goofy, cringy things he’d say.

but over time, y/n kept them because they felt almost…grounding.

like they could pull her back down to earth whenever she felt she was getting too lost in her own mind.

so she’d bought a journal.

a pretty, dark red one - michael’s favourite colour.

and each night, y/n would stick the latest notes alongside the countless others.

some were a little crumpled from being carried round all day.

some had a few coffee stains.

some had little doodles in the corners.

all of them we’re michael’s.

the notebook had become her favourite thing she owned.

which was precisely why she hid it.

because if michael ever found out she'd essentially created an archive of every silly little note he'd ever written her, she would never hear the end of it.

so the notebook stayed tucked away in her bedside drawer where she thought it was perfectly safe. that was, until, one afternoon.

y/n opened the door to the room, her shoes kicked off downstairs.

and there he was, michael, sat on the bed, cross-legged, the book open on his lap.

his expression wasn’t amused, it wasn’t concerned.

just…stunned.

the room was silent for a second, michael’s gaze on y/n, and y/n’s gaze on the book.

“you kept them,”

“give it back,”

michael looked down at the book, almost as if looking to hard could cause the soft pages to tear.

every single note was there, probably months of them.

one of them had a heart she’d absentmindedly drawn beside one of his own.

“baby…”

the way he said it made her face heat up again, filling wirh a pink hue - the same blush she had when she read his notes.

“you kept them all,”

“stop saying it like that, mikey,”

and then, he smiled. not a teasing, belittling smile. a soft smile, ones he reserved only for her.

“i didn’t know they meant that much to you,”

y/n folded her arms over her chest. the wall behind him had suddenly become a lot more interesting.

“well,” he said, blinking as he watched her, her tense body and flushed cheeks.

“well?” her voice was half snappy,

“i like them, okay?” she whined, arms falling to her side.

“it’s cute,”

“you’re making fun of me,” y/n threw her hands over her face.

“im not,” michael said, his voice genuine.

and somehow, that was worse.

he was looking down at the notebook again, thumb brushing over the corner of one of the notes.

“michael,” she groaned, watching as he turned the page, her own little page, where she’d drawn little hearts and stars across the page.

“stop look at it,” she said, not moving to stop him.

“i can’t,” michael’s finger hovered over one of the hearts, afraid to touch it almost, as if the already dry ink might smudge.

before she could march over and snatch the notebook from his hands, michael reached out and caught her wrist gently.

“hey,” he said, pulling her forwards onto her lap softly, moving the book.

the softness in his voice immediately melted some of her embarrassment.

“you’re embarrassing me,” y/n whispered, hiding her face into his neck.

“embarrassing you? you made a whole book-!”

“stop it,” she hit his chest gently, “thats not funny,”

michael just laughed, taking in the half-pout on her lips, his thumb coming to brush against the cushion of her lip.

“i’m sorry, princess,” he said, “didn’t mean t’make fun of your hobbies,”

y/n rolled her eyes.

she kept her cheek against his chest, the soft sounds of his heart against her ear thrumming as his fingers traced patterns against her wrist.

y/n took the book into his lap, flicking open the pages.

“you kept the first one,” he said, blinking down at the piece of paper.

it was visibly the oldest, slightly discoloured but it was still there.

“it’s my favourite,”

michael was silent for a second, his chest resting on her head as her finger traced along the heart.

“you’re cute,” he finally said, his voice soft as he watched her flick through the pages.

it was like a view of their relationship, all through a small book.

“what’re you doing?” y/n snapped her gaze from the book to him as she felt him shift.

“writing another one?”

“right now?”

“i know you’ll keep it”

❀❀❀❀

neverland ranch, october 7th 1995

its been a month since the mtv awards. which means its been only four weeks since you and michael have announced to the public about not only your long term relationship but also your engagement.

at first it was okay.

you remember going into that after party with michael, hand in hand and enjoying the whole night. of course, you expected the media to pick up on it quickly but not that quickly.

literally the next day, you and michael were plastered on the front of every single newspaper.

‘michael jackson's mysterious lover.’

when you first saw that you couldn't help the way your heart was beating outside of your chest. you were scared because now everyone knew your face, your name, where you went to school, where you worked.

they knew everything.

and you already knew that your life would change because hello, you're about to get married to the biggest pop star in existence, but you didn't think that you'll become as famous as him.

now, just a month later from the public hearing about you. your whole life has changed drastically.

you have now permanently moved in with michael at neverland. you were already planning to move in with him anyways but unfortunately it happened more sooner than you thought.

as soon as you both left new york, all you did was try and go to your apartment to grab a couple of clothes, and instead of doing that, you had to hide in a random shop because your apartment complex was flooded with paparazzi. you remember calling michael immediately, and telling him that it's almost impossible for you to get into your apartment because of how crowded it is.

since that day, michael made sure that you've not only permanently moved into neverland but also that whenever you go out without him, you have your own personal security detail.

at first it sounded fun and you felt somewhat important, but now it just feels suffocating.

it’s like you can’t do anything without the public judging you for it. now you understand how michael has been feeling this whole time.

oh and let’s not even get started on the letters.

yes, you’ve been sent letters.

from michael’s fans. some of them are nice. congratulating you on the engagement, or saying nice things like you’re pretty, or you and michael are the perfect dream couple, but some of them are so disgustingly mean and disrespectful that it’s a shocker that michael has fans that are literal bullies, all because you’re dating him and they’re not.

“baby are you awake?” you hear michael’s sleepy voice from beside you. “i can hear you thinking.”

you let out a small smile at his words, turning around so you and him are face to face.

“yeah ive been awake for a while. m’ just nervous about today.” michael wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you so you’re flush against him.

“i know you are. it’s okay to be scared.” he says, dropping a kiss on your forehead.

“you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” he suggests, and just the thought of him telling you that you don’t have to do an interview that is practically set up so the whole world can get to know you better, is so heartwarming.

because you and him both know that you don’t have to do it, but it’s the fact that if you don’t, the media will get you one way or another.

“i know.” you mumble, playing with the collar of his pyjama shirt. “but i don’t know,” you shrug, “i think it’ll be best if i just get it over and done with. and maybe people can see that i’m actually not a ‘money hungry bitch’ like they’ve been saying for the past couple of weeks.”

michael immediately frowns at your words. “baby… i told you to stop reading the tabloids. they’re always negative and no matter what you do, they’ll continue. all you have to do is ignore them like i said.”

you sigh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and resting your face in the crook of his neck so he can’t see the tears that are springing to your eyes.

“im sorry.” you apologise, your voice slightly muffled from your position.

“stop,” michael says softly, “you don’t need to apologise for something that’s not your fault. all you’re doing is existing and like i said, the media finds a problem with everything.”

you sniff, pulling back so you can look your fiancée in his eyes. “i just sometimes wish you wasn’t so famous and i wasn’t such an average girl from california. i just want your fans to like me.”

“it doesn’t matter what they think. all that matters is, i love you, so very much. and i plan to spend the rest of my life loving you. nothing that the fans say will ever change that okay.” you look down at his words making michael hook your chin with his finger so you’re staring straight into his eyes. “i said okay?”

“okay.” you nod. “but i still want to do the interview.”

“are you a hundred percent sure?”

“yes, michael. i want to do it.” you lie. yes, you want to do the interview but that’s only because you can’t help but wanting to be loved by the people. you don’t want them to think that you’re some evil woman who their idol happens to be marrying. you want them to see how much of a genuine soul you are.

god, you hate being such a people pleaser.

“okay. we’ll do it. but baby, if you feel uncomfortable once in that interview just say the word and ill end it.”

you nod, giving him a small peck on the lips. “of course. now let’s get ready before we’re late.”

your hands are shaking.

and you can't stop your leg from bouncing.

you and michael are both sitting on a couch in a well lit studio, waiting for the interviewer to get her team ready so you guys can go on air.

just knowing that you’re going to be live is nerve racking.

michael puts a hand on your knee, stopping you from bouncing it.

"it's okay." he whispers. "you'll be fine."

you nod, grasping michael's hand that's placed on your knee.

the interviewer comes from backstage, sitting across from you with a soft smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"are you guys ready?" she asks.

you nod, but michael speaks up. "do you mind if i see the question sheet before we start?"

"of course." the interviewer says, passing michael the sheet. you can't exactly see what's on it, and you're sure you don't want too. but michael looks through it thoroughly and circles the questions that he deems appropriate. "if you don't mind, those questions are the only ones we'll be answering today." he says with a smile.

"that's fine by me." the woman nods, before you hear the director shout 'quiet on set!'

"hi," the interviewer smiles at you both. "i'm here this morning with michael jackson and his newly found fiancée..." she trails off looking at you, so you could tell her your name

"i—" you go to tell her your name but michael immediately cuts you off.

he tells her your name, followed by, "i'm sure you already knew her name from the papers." you can't help the way his hand tightens around yours, already signalling that he's getting a bit annoyed.

"of course, apologises. it just seemed to slip my mind." the interviewer laughs.

"hmm." michael hums.

you look up, locking eyes with michael's social media manager who accepted this interview on behalf of you two and you see the slight shake of her head in discontent of michael's actions.

"anyways, ill like to congratulate you both on your engagement."

"thank you." you smile.

"and ill just like to ask, how did you keep the relationship a secret for that long? i mean you're not only in a relationship, but you're engaged. we all thought you were a single man michael and suddenly you pop up out of the blue with a woman?”

“uhh…” michael starts. “i never actually specified before if i was single or dating. it’s just that we both,” he smiles at you, “felt like we needed privacy, away from the media, away from the tabloids. just something that we can enjoy, just the two of us, until we both were ready for the world to know about our relationship.”

“fair enough.” the woman nods, before directing her next question at you.

“and you, how were you able to catch the eye of the michael jackson. from what im aware of you were just a normal woman, working a normal job, then you show up on his arm? how did that happen?”

you laugh, “i— uh i actually don’t know. i saw him a couple times, at his tours, or at some of his signings and then one day, he noticed me. he noticed me and we started talking, being on the phone together every night until he finally asked me on a date. sometimes when i think back at it, it doesn’t really seem real, that that’s how it happened, but yeah.” michael gives your hand a small squeeze, letting you know that you’re doing well so far.

“so you were one of his fans?” the interviewer questions, raising a single brow.

you let out a nervous laugh. “i mean… yeah, if you put it that way.”

“and how do you now deal with being in the spotlight? is it overwhelming? do you regret—”

“i didn’t circle that question.” michael interrupts, pointing at the notebook the woman is holding.

“right.” she laughs, “sorry.”

you bite your lip nervously, as the interviewer starts to sprout out questions directed at michael, asking about his upcoming tour. asking him about his album that was released this year, just completely forgetting that you’re in the room. which surprisingly you’re totally fine with, you were already nervous being here, and after being asked all these questions that had your heart racing, you finally feel like you can breathe again.

“i think what the people want to know is, when’s the wedding?” your ears perk up at that question because you and michael haven’t exactly agreed on a date.

“we’re planning to do it very soon, but unfortunately we can’t give out the date since we are both very private people, and we’ll love if we can have some sort of privacy the day that we marry.” your heart warms at his words, because that’s all you want.

“and do you guys plan to have kids in the future? have you spoken about kids, because michael you’ve always wanted to be a dad correct?”

“yes i want to be a father.” michael states, “and yes we’ve spoken about kids, multiple times. but we’ll choose to have them when we’re ready.”

“okay so i want to get this off my chest, before we start wrapping up this interview, but there’s a little tiny bit of gossip going around.” the interviewer starts.

your heart rate starts to pick up at her words.

“so what ive been seeing is, at the mtv awards, you and michael were caught having a heated argument.”

you swallow at her words because you know exactly what moment she’s talking about. the moment where michael scoped you out outside of the ladies bathroom and practically dragged you to his dressing room.

“i didn’t circle that question.” michael grits out, his hand tightening around yours.

“i know but—”

“but nothing.” he snaps. you and everyone else in the room seems to be shocked at his tone. you’ve seen the interviews when michael has been talked down on and berated, but he’s always responded with calm and calculated responses. “i already told you that we’re private people, and what goes on in our relationship is no one else’s business. so like i said, i didn’t circle that question.”

“right. apologies mr jackson.” the interview takes in a deep breath before planting the fakest smile ever on her face. “so i guess that’s the end of today’s interview, thank you both so much for attending.”

“thank you.” michael smiles, before standing up with your hand in his and walking off set.

once you both reach his dressing room, he immediately cups your face.

“you okay?”

“im fine, mike.” you smile, even though your hands are still shaking.

“good.” he nods. “even though that interview may have been a bit difficult but it’s definitely one of the more tamer ones.”

“i can tell.” you laugh.

michael looks up over your head, and you turn around and see his social media manager beckoning him over.

“im going to get security to escort you to the car, just wait there and ill be there in a second, okay.” he looks in your eyes, making sure that you’ll be okay if he goes to have a talk with his social media manager.

“that’s fine, ill be okay.”

“okay.” michael nods, placing a short kiss on your lips before signalling security, to escort you out.

almost immediately you are ushered out of the studio, and towards the car that is on the other side of the road.

what you didn't expect when you stepped outside was a massive crowd, filled with screaming fans and cameras flashing.

you cover your eyes, the flashing lights blinding, as you let one of the guards pull you towards the car that seems so far away.

"hey! back up!" one of the security yells, but you don't see, you can't see because everything is so bright with all the flashing.

you hear them scream your name, asking you all sorts of questions.

"where's michael?"

"is the relationship really genuine?"

"are you using him for his fame and money?"

“who actually are you?”

“were you really his fan?”

you try and shut out all the yelling but it's getting difficult when you're getting shoved in multiple directions. there's too little security and too many people trying to get at you, and you still don't understand why?

yes you're michael's significant other but you're not him. you shouldn’t be bombarded like this when you’re not even a pop star.

just a little more further to go, you're nearly to the car and then you can finally breathe.

"i said back up!" you hear the security who has a tight grip on your arm yell.

the guard let's go of your arm so he can push some people back, leaving you somewhat vulnerable.

the pushing and shoving starts to get worse the closer you get to the car. you let out a gasp when one of the security guys stumbles into you from the force of the crowd, causing you to trip over your dress.

the only thing you remember apart from the roaring crowd in your ears is falling on the ground hard. you let out a whimper in pain at the sharp, pain in your wrist and knees.

instantly, you're being helped up on your feet. "miss, are you okay? are you hurt?" one of the security men ask you, his hands gripping your shoulders. this was the one that stumbled into you, causing you to fall.

"im okay." you mumble, biting your lip to stop your tears from falling. you cradle your wrist in your other hand, dropping your gaze so the crowd and the cameras can't see the pain and embarrassment written all over your face.

after what feels like forever, of pushing, shoving and yelling from the crowd and security, you finally reach the car. once you sit in your seat, you let out a big breath. you ignore the soreness of your wrist, keeping your head down, not even realising that the car is driving off without michael inside.

you still don't even realise that the car pulled round to the back of the studio, where there's no crowd.

and you definitely didn't hear the car door open, and the sound of michael getting in the car beside you, followed by bill and two other security guys.

“hey, baby.” michael says, placing a hand on your sore knee which you’re pretty sure has a bruise forming.

your leg jerks at his touch, causing him to frown.

“you okay?” he asks, leaning his head down so he can catch your gaze.

you look up at him, nibbling your bottom lip to stop the tears that are threatening to fall. you see the change in michael’s facial expressions when he realises that something is wrong.

“what happened?” you continue to stare at him, not knowing the best way to say that his beloved fans were the reason you accidentally got hurt.

michael sees the look on your face and immediately looks up to bill and the other security that are also in the car with you.

“what happened? i left her alone for five minutes and now my girl is lookin’ like she’s about to burst into tears?”

“sir—” one of the security men starts.

“bill?” michael questions, raising a brow.

“i didn’t get told anything, i was with you the whole time.” bill shrugs, looking at michael in confusion.

michael sighs, looking back down at you who still hasn’t said a single word.

“baby, what happened?”

“it wasn’t that bad.” you mumble, your voice just about heard over your laboured breathing.

your chest feelings unusually tight.

“tell me what happened, and ill determine whether it was bad or not.”

you shrug, telling him everything. how you got taken out the front entrance, completely being swarmed by his fans, and how your security detail got so overwhelmed with the amount of people that one of them knocked into you, causing you to fall.

by time you were done telling them everything, you couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

“…i’m sorry. i probably made it sound worse that it actually was.” you sniff, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. you’re pretty sure that your makeup that you made sure was absolutely perfect for today’s interview is now ruined.

michael pulls you into his chest, wrapping both of his arms around you.

“m’ so sorry, my sweet girl.” he whispers, placing a kiss on your head.

“it’s okay.” you mumble, soaking in the warmth that is coming from his body.

“no it’s not. you could’ve gotten seriously hurt. and bill, i’m going to need to you to have a word with your team because there’s absolutely no reason why they didn’t take her out the back entrance when they know the front is always packed with fans.”

bill nods in understanding, whispering something to the man beside him.

“you didn’t get hurt did you?” michael asks, looking down at you.

“my knee is sore and my wrist aches a bit but apart from that i’m fine.” you manage a small smile. michael lifts up your wrist that you didn’t even realise you were cradling, and placing a small kiss on it.

“sorry.” he whispers, kissing your wrist again.

you smile, your first genuine smile since you woke up in his arms this morning. “you’re so sweet to me, mikey.”

he hums, dropping a kiss on your lips. “maybe it’s because there’s nothing and no one on this planet that i love more than you.”

you’re smiling so wide that your cheeks are starting to hurt. “that’s so cheesy.” you laugh.

“i know.” he smiles back, as you lay your head back down on his chest and enjoy the car ride back to neverland.

for the first time today, you’ve finally realised that as long as you have michael by your side, everything should be okay.