⤷ Before fame, before headlines, before the world watched, there was a connection that never really disappeared. Now, years later, destiny throws two very different versions of the same people back into each other’s orbit… and nothing feels as simple as it used to.
warnings: slow burn, angst, friends to lovers, mentions of parental discipline ( fuck j****h)
fyi: reader's name will just be 𖤝 in all my works! ( until I decide otherwise) So if you see that symbol, that's why :)
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𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝐫𝐝, 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟓, 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐲, 𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
“Slow down, mikey!” you warned lightly as you watched Michael attempt to ride his bike down the tattered road, which would swallow him and his bike if he hit the curb.
It was the middle of summer, hot and humid, with barely a breeze to keep the two of you from breaking out in a sweat.
But it wasn't like you weren't already, with trying to teach Michael how to ride his bike.
You and Michael have been two peas in a pod ever since your father landed a job at a steel factory here in Gary, which allowed you and your two brothers to move to the house two blocks down the road from the Jacksons.
At first, it was hard to make friends, you being the oldest sibling and the only girl in the house, you didn't have the leisure like your other siblings, even if you were only two years older than them.
While your father was working, you had to make sure that the daily chores would be done and be able to cook a halfway decent meal, since you know your father is always beat from working and most of the time doesn't have time to cook.
until a short little boy with an afro that was bigger than his head and big brown eyes knocked on your door asking if your little brothers were home to play.
It was annoying, really annoying.
I mean, who wants to do chores with three little rascals running around and making more messes for you to clean up
But somewhere down the line, it switched from annoyance to appreciation?
You started to notice that whenever your two brothers would make a mess, Michael would be the first to attempt to clean it up.
If you were doing dishes, you would notice him start to help you dry and put them away.
You never asked him to do these things, even told him multiple times that it was okay, but all he would say was
“I like helping my friends.”
At first, you were confused. Friends? When did that ever become established?
You didn't hang out with the three boys unless your brothers needed you to grab or fix anything.
So the fact that Michael even considered you his friend was kind of nice. So from then on, you stopped trying to stop him from helping you.
cause that's just what friends do..
Friends also try to help their friend from getting killed, like right now.
“ 𖤝 ! “Michael's soft voice was frantic as his hands gripped the frantic handlebars that just seemed to be trying to free themselves from his grip.
“Use the breaks, Mike!” you said through cupped hands, trying to make your voice heard through his panicked mind, but it doesn't seem to work as you watch him turn his head to look back at you.
which means he wasn't able to watch the road..
“Michael, look out!” you screamed as you watched him collide headfirst with your mailbox post. knocking him off the bike and sending him down on the curb, while the bike knocked into your fence before falling face down, the wheels still spinning.
Your hands covered your mouth in an attempt to hide your gasp, “mikey..” you said more softly as you lightly sprang the rest of the way to where he still lay flat on the ground.
“ oh Micheal what were you thinking!? let me see you,” you said in a strict but soft tone, your big sister mode coming into activation as you gently kneeled to help Michael up.
You grabbed his elbow lightly to help him up. You were expected to be met with tears, but all you got was a huge, full smile.
Well, almost full. except for the gap that now lay in the right side of his mouth.
“Did you see how fast I went 𖤝! did you see?!” he said as he waved his hands in the air, face full of amusement as little giggles slipped from his mouth. Meanwhile, all you could do was stare at him with a blank face.
He had lost a tooth and had a scratch on his lip.
And as you looked down, you could see his knees and elbows looked just as scraped up.
You felt your eyes start to water as you swallowed thickly to stop the tears.
You let your friend get hurt, how could you? you’re the oldest, supposed to be the responsible one.
Michael's face of wonder soon turned to worry as he watched your eyes turn glossy.
“No, don't cry 𖤝.. I'm okay,” he said to you as he meekly wrapped his small arms around your neck, patting your back softly as you lightly sniffled.
He's hurt, and you’re crying, and he's comforting you. gosh.
You couldn't help but let out a weak laugh as you hugged him back softly before pulling back. giving one more soft glance before you flicked his nose, hard, causing him to wince and put his hand up to his nose, eyes wide and looking at you in disbelief
“Next time I say slow down, you slow down! You could've lost more than just a tooth and had more damage to your face. You can't be so reckless, think what Joseph would do.” As you gave your lecture, Michael pouted and looked down; he looked more gutted than when he flew off his bike five minutes ago.
Usually, the puppy eyes don't work on you, I mean, you have younger brothers who pull this crap all the time, but somehow with Michael, it just made your heart ache.
So you stopped your lecture with a weak sigh as you got up off your knees, pulling Michael with you softly, being careful of his injured skin. He still looked down at the curb, avoiding your gaze, even though you weren't lecturing him anymore.
“Just promise me you’ll be more careful, okay, speed demon?” you cracked the joke lightly, hoping that would cheer him up.
Michael looked up with a shy smile as he nodded, wrapping his neck against your stomach since that's the height he could reach with you both now standing to the fullest.
“I'm glad you were the one to help me 𖤝,” he said, muffled in your stomach, his slightly deflated afro, tickling the tip of your chin. You just smiled and hugged him back now, grip tight.
cause that's what friends are for
𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟗𝐭𝐡 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟕, 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐲, 𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧, 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞
Friends also don't abandon each other, right?
That's what you tell yourself as you watch the movers load up you, your father's, and your siblings' belongings into the small U-Haul.
Your father is remarrying to some okay lady that lives in Los Angelous, California.
At least you won’t be the only girl in the house anymore.
But that just means you’ll have to try again to make new friends.
You bite your bottom lip as you grip your own box filled with your belongings tightly, hoping to delay as much time as you can to allow Michael to finish practicing with his brothers, hoping Joseph would take it easy on them.
“ 𖤝” You hear your dad's stern voice from the driveway. You turn to see that all the furniture that was laid out in the yard is now in the U-Haul truck, as well as the rest of the boxes that were scattered around.
Your personal belongings were the only ones missing from the truck.
You sighed as you looked down the street, hoping to see those big eyes sprinting down the block, but you were only met with the feel of light snow tickling your eyelashes and the air blowing from the U-Haul engine, almost mocking you in your departure.
“Coming, Dad,” you said softly as you made your way to the truck, loading your box into the back seat. Just as you were about to hop in with your brothers, you hear a faint shout.
“ wait! 𖤝 don't leave yet..” You quickly whip your head to see Michael in a red sweater with a big brown Courdoroy puffer that was obviously too big for him. He had ear muffs that made a little dent in his afro, red mittens covering his hands, and dark wash jeans to finish. He held up his hand, and you saw that he had something in it.
“Wait, Dad! Give me just a second,” you didn't even wait for a reply before you shut the door of the truck and did a little jog of your own to meet Michael halfway. He was out of breath by the time he got to you, nose a light shade of pink, and his lips chapped. He looked tired
“Mikey..I was beginning to think I wouldn't get the chance to say goodbye,” you said painfully as you gripped the small boy's hands in your warm ones. Even through the mittens, you can feel the coldness.
“I couldn't leave without saying goodbye.. I couldn't without telling you—” his voice was cut off by a loud shout of his name coming from the direction of his house.
“Michael! You'd better get back in here before Joseph loses his shit!” It was Jermaine who came out with almost the same fit that Michael has, a red sweater with dark wash jeans.
At the same time, you also heard your father's voice shout your name, followed by the honk of the horn. “𖤝 we gotta go! It's almost rush hour “
You and Michael stared at each other in silence.
You were looking at him with sadness.
He was looking at you as if he was trying to remember every detail by heart..
Finally, Michael breaks the tension with a step forward, going on his tippy toes and placing a hasty kiss on your cheek, and shoving something crumbled into your hand.
“Don't forget me…” he said before turning on his heels and running back down to the house where Jermaine remains looking down from the front porch.
You watched as Michael gave a final glance your way, hesitating to go inside into the warmth, before he marched inside, Jermaine shutting the door behind him.
But all you could do was hold your cheek that was suddenly warm, your whole body actually was suddenly warm. almost fuzzy
You looked down to see a simple 3x4 Polaroid of you and Michael.
He was on top of his bike, the same one he crashed into your mailbox two years ago. He was wearing a colorful white, blue, and red polo shirt, light-wash baggy shorts that looked like the same ones one of your brothers used to wear, and a big belt to hold the shorts to his small frame.
You, on the other hand, were wearing a white polo shirt with similar light-wash shorts, but with colorful floral embroidery.
Your arms were awkwardly wrapped around Michael's neck due to the height difference, with one arm around your waist (what he could reach) and the other gripping the side of his handlebars.
You smiled to yourself, vision becoming blurry as you tried to hold back tears. You quickly flipped the Polaroid to see a fast scribble of handwriting.
Thank you for being my bestest friend
P.S. I will learn how to ride a bike if it's the last thing I do
You face forward, blinking fast.
Because friends don’t forget each other… right?
yeah.. But sometimes life does it for you.
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Okay, first part of my fic speed demon. AHHHH I'm excited to start working on p2. Please let me know how you guys like it, and feedback is always appreciated ♡
