𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄

ABOUT ME: hi. i'm lennox. (she/her.) i'm a huge lover of sci-fi, art and music. when it comes to music, i love diving into all different genres, but clearly, i adore michael jackson. my favourite movie is 'silence of the lambs' and i'm a huge sucker for any small town mysery book. i'm also a huge animal lover, i have fourteen pets and i'm currently training to become a veterinarian.

WHO I WRITE FOR: primary, at the moment, i will be focusing writing on michael jackso fics when the mood strikes. this could change over time if inspiration hits for anyone else (real or chatacter wise.) rest assured, if this does happen, i will continue writing michael fanfics, so don't worry about that.

WRITING METHODS: as my process for fanfiction continues, i will be writing in past tense and it usually will be in third person. i know right now i'm waiting in intentional lowekey case, but when it comes to my fics, i will be writing with correct grammar. this is simply something i find more compelling to read, so it's really just a preference thing. i tend to write a lot. i can't help myself, so i apologise in advance for my ramblings.

REQUESTS: requests are currently closed, but when i feel confident enough to open them up, i would love to hear your guys suggestions for what you would like to see. please bare in mind, these may take some time for me to get to (i am a rambler, so my writing gets long and i do work full time.) but i will try and work on things as they come in. please note that i can say no to things, particularly if those requests are out of my comfort zone or if another writer has done something similiar and i feel as though my writing cannot compare. in those incidences, i will link you to the story of the other writer.

THINGS I WON'T WRITE: i won't write anything non-consensual for obvious reasons. i won't write anything involving incest, gross. nothing involving real life children. if your request involves a child, it will be one from my own creation.

PLEASE DON'T: steal my graphics. i made them for this account specifically and would appreciate it if people respected that.

Another night, another disappointment. She supposed it might have been her own fault this time. Didn't someone smart once define madness was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results? Sometimes things didn't change and the wises choice was to accept that they wouldn't.

Hours of waiting just to be thrust into the cold reality of always feeling like second best. She'd wasted her time so foolishly, so innocent in her pursuit to make her lover happy, just for all that effort to crumble under the weight of being forgotten.

She had known he'd been stressed. Finishing up any album was hard, but when you're categorised as the biggest artist on the planet, there was an added layer of pressure where you couldn't afford to let the ball drop. Michael knew it.

People had expected greatness from him, others had been patiently waiting for his downfall so that they could turn around and say 'I told you so.' In that mocking kind of taunt that would haunt his darkest nights. As a perfectionist, one of his biggest fears was rejection, so he had spent all his time locked away in the studio, working on melodies, harmonies and vocals.

Whatever it was, he'd been gone and it wasn't only the physical aspect, she could feel him emotionally withdrawing too.

This morning, she'd been brave enough to voice his concern ― waking just before his alarm chriped so she could catch him before he left.

At first, she'd noticed it, the way his eyes kept falling back to the clock, checking the tedious minutes at they passed by with aching precision. He'd felt ambushed and he'd told her so. For a moment, she's almost let it go, seeing the frustration swimming in the depths of those doe-eyes she'd fallen in love with, but then she'd realised if this kind of thing continued, she'd lose him for good.

So with a new sense of determination, she built up the courage to tell him how she'd felt, how she knew his work was important, but she missed him, she missed the two of them together, she didn't want to lose him.

She'd watched as the icy resolve of his face melted away, he'd brought her into his warm embrace and kissed her forehead, promising he would do better, that he would make more time, swearing that he would never allow himself to make her feel that way again. Seeing her upset hurt him too and he didn't want that for their realtionship.

With a firece persistence, Michael had swore to her that he would finish early in the studio today, no later than 7 pm so that they could spend quality time together in the evening, completely alone, without any talk of studio stress of lyric dilemmas.

Naivety made a fool out of her, because she'd actually believed him. Sending him away with a soft kiss and a longing, "see you soon."

But soon never came.

All she had wanted to do was spend time in his company and cheer him up. She'd gone through so much effort to make things perfect for him. Now standing alone in their home, dressed to the nines as the clock reached midnight, she wished she hadn't bothered.

She should've known better than to get her hopes up.

It was only last week she planned a romantic picnic under the stars in the dazzling acres Neverland provided them with, but last minute, he had called from the studio and cancelled.

His excuse?

He'd promised the studio musicians they could grab a quite bite to eat before settling back in the studio to power through a particular tricky hook.

His promise to her was broken, but he assured that he would make it up to her. That somehow only furthered her issue.

Even though she was excited for some quality time with Michael and felt the burning twinge of disappointment settle, she had kept calm, she'd let it go, for his sake more than her own.

His job was demanding, she knew that so she decided to be the bigger person and with a shaking breath, she told him it was okay. Over the phone, she heard his smile as he leaned over the landline with a cheerful, "you're wonderful."

She certainly hadn't felt that way.

Had he made it up to her?

On some level, she supposed he had the intent. With a pleading promise to spend the day after sweeping her off her feet, Michael insisted she be ready by 8 pm and had called at lunchtime just to remind her.

Genuinely excitment swarmed in the pit of her stomach. Michael had a way of making her feel so cared for when he actually put in the effort, which is probably why the ache of his absence felt so raw when he wasn't around.

With a new found perspective, she'd cheerfully dolled herself up for him, even going to far as to use one of her least perfumes simply because she knew he adored it.

But when the clock reached 11:30 pm and there was still no sign of him, she was hit with a wall of exhaustion. He wasn't going to show and she'd been too tired to scream her frustration.

All that time she had spent getting ready for the day had ultimately been pointless. So as she stepped out of the little black dress and wiped the make up away, she watched her reflection in the mirror and wondered if this was how her life was destined to play out for as long as she lived.

It was some time after 3 am when he graced her with his presence. She had felt the bed dip beneath him as he climed under the sheets. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back to his chest while she kept her composure in an attemp to fake being asleep.

He hadn't noticed.

She hadn't wanted to talk to him that night. She couldn't. They rarely argued, but when they did, they were both left deverstated. So like always, she swallowed her pride and let it go.

The next morning, he's explained his absence from the night before while he changed, already on his way out the door.

Apparently one of the studio engineers had been distracted and messed up one of his recordings. Michael had insisted that he would go back in the booth and sing over and over again until he could replace the one vocal take he had actually considered to be up to standard.

Understanding his frustration, she had accepted his half hearted apology and let her anger fade away.

At first, she's been willing to let it slide. Mistakes happen once in a while, but when those mistakes turn into routine, she knew it couldn't let it continue.

It wasn't like she was asking for much. She didn't want to go anywhere. She'd have been thrilled to have dinner at home, so long as Michael was there, the location didn't matter.

She'd have never imagined she could miss the very person she lived with.

The clock now chimed midnight. A brand new day would start to bloom soon and still, she sat pathetically in the wreckage that was her hope for their realtionship.

How many times did she have to sit alone before she realised, she would never be his priority?

Like a fool, she's planned a whole romantic night in. He's promised he'd be back, that they could shared an entire evening in each other's company and she'd vigorously planned for it, even going so far as to phone his mother to kindly ask for the recipe for one of his favourite childhood meals. Katherine had been gracious enough to comply.

Sure, he had a personal chef, but she wanted to make something special for him. So with a new lease of life, she had spent hours trying to form the perfect, stress free night for him.

Through the halls of the ranch, the classic cadence of Debussy bounced off the walls, quite in tone, but setting the perfect ambience of what she hoped would be the building blocks of trust reformed.

She'd planned it all out. Dinner, dessert, maybe even a movie if he was feeling upto it. They could sit in the cinema room, holding each other like they used to when they first started dating.

But once again, nothing went according to plan. The mocking chimes of the clock taunted her, poking fun at the time and effort she'd wasted yet again and so for a final time, she felt the fight leave her body.

She gave up.

He wasn't going to be home anytime soon.

The candles she'd lit had long since burnt out, leaving the only source of light to be that of a silvery wash of color the moon generously provided through the open window.

Ironic that one thing they used to watch in awe together now became a becon of sorrow in the foundations they'd laid.

With a disappointed shake of her head, she looked down at the cold plate on the table and picked her own up. With more grace than she possessed, she crossed the floor and threw the untouched food in the trash. It wasn't like she had much of an appetite now anyway. Michael's reamined stiff on the dining room table, she knew he'd be hungry when he returned.

Following the all too familiar path to their bedroom, she wasted no time. The aching sense of deja vu ripped through her as she removed her make up and changed into a set of comfortable, silk pyjamas. This time when she looked at herself in the mirror, she just laughed.

How much sadness could one person take before they broke beyond recognition?

While exhaustion ached her bones, she decided against allowing the sweet embrace of slumber claim her as it's own tonight. They had to confront this head on if this realtionship had any chance at survival. She would stay awake all night if she had to.

Making her way back down the stairs with a new goal in mind, she cuddled up on the sofa with her latest purchase from the book store and tried her absolute hardest to calm the racing beat of her heart.

The clock handles were nearing 4:05 am when the sound of the front door opening creaked through the silence. Half way finished with her book by now, but understanding she would have to reread since her mind was otherwise preoccupied, she barley flinched as his heavy footsteps grew near. He stopped only once to remove his shoes before making his way into the living room.

There, he came to a sudden and unexpected halt, dark eyes settled on the familiar sight of his girlfriend, sitting in the corner of the sofa with a book clutched in her grasp, but her eyes focused steadily on him.

"Nice to know you remember where you live." Were the only words she dared to utter before she placed the soft cream blanket she'd been using to keep herself warm on the arm of the sofa and leaving for the stairs with book in hand.

It was then Michael knew he had well and truly messed up.

She never screamed or shouted. It was one of the many reasons he adored her so much. She hated conflict as much as he did. If they fought, which was a rarity in itself, she would always manage to keep her compsure and remain calm.

After witnessing the sadness clouding her tired eyes, he didn't know if that still rang true. He'd upset her so much, she verged on angry.

It wasn't his intention, of course. He had never wanted to hurt her. She'd been one of the few people that offered him peace in the crazy uncertainty of his life. She'd loved him through it all and he loved her right back, he just lost himself sometimes and that was more evident in the early hours of the morning than it had ever been before.

It wasn't as though he was viciously ignoring their dates nights on purpose, they just seemed to constantly slip from his mind. Time in the studio moved different than it did in the outside world. So caught up with finding the right sound, he would forget his own name had it not been called so frequently.

Still, it was no excuse. He knew that. Having been a constant source of comfort in his life, he'd failed to show just how much she meant to him and with cripping disappointment, Michael found himself shaking his head at his own actions. He knew he could be forgetful, but he hadn't realised how idiotic his actions were.

Pushing dark hair from his eyes, he allowed himself a couple of seconds to take a few deep breaths before he walked upstairs, following the same path his love had hiked only moments before.

He found her exactly where he thought he would. Sitting cooly on her side of the bed. Only she wasn't under the covers and showed no signs of wanting to sleep. She wanted to talk and he knew it.

Selfishly, part of him wished she wasn't so rational. Maybe if she screamed at him, he wouldn't feel so damn guilty for being the one who constantly let her down.

He called her name, soft and with intent. She barley looked at him. With the corners of his mouth fell into a frown, he caredully walked to her side of the bed and crouched down, taking her now free hands in his own and stoking her knuckles with the pads of his thumbs.

"Come on, mama." He tried, in hopes the pet name would soften her. It didn't. "I'm sorry. Will you let me explain?"

Finally illiciting a response, a heavy sigh passed through her lips. She'd heard that phrase one too many times recently and she didn't know if she could handle another vague excuse.

Still, she deserved to know why he'd rejected her company for what felt like the millionth time in the past two months. So after weighing up her options, she pulled her hands from his and brought her knees up to her chest while responding with a small nod.

Getting ahead of himself, Michael felt himself smile upon her agreement, but that emotion soon fell when with the withdrawl of her hand. He noticed traces of sadness etched across her face and he instantly wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and keep her sheltered from any harm.

He'd done this. He was the one responsible for the sorrow she felt and it hit him like a truck.

Despite wanting to rationalise the night and the mishaps that lead him to him being late yet again, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't exhausted too.

The ability to form words was suddenly lost to him and Michael sat there, looking up at her through dark lashes, willing his mind to catch up to the severity of the situation.

"Are you going to stand there with your mouth open all day or are you actually going to explain?" She spoke monotone and the lack of emotion in her voice only further scared him.

The frown lines on his face only became more pronounced the longer she stared at him, but he quickly shook away his fear and willed himself to speak.

"You know studio time is really precious right now. We're really in the midst of something great. I can feel it." He started, hands gesturing with each word he spoke. "I think we're almost done, so long as we can keep this pace up."

The words should have excited her. After all, the recording sessions were the biggest factor into his absence, but not the only one. All she heard as he spoke was that he would be spending even more time away from her.

She knew how he acted with album cycles. Nothing was ever good enoigh and he worked himself to the bone to try and achieve a realm of perfection that didn't exist.

Michael was never fully happy with an album. Even upon release, he would find some flaw in the art and he could never let it go.

So yes, the album might be close to being fully recorded, but he would keep going back to tweak things until he physically couldn't anymore.

As much as she wanted to congratulate him on all his hard work, it felt empty when the result of that time away had been the breakdown of their relationship.

"I've been so busy, so when we finished early today, someone suggested I let off steam. Teddy who owns the arcade close to the studio said he'd close it for me and some of the studio engineers." He spoke and it was honest, she knew it to be true. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened and it wouldn't be the last. "I guess I got distracted. I didn't realise the time until Bill mentioned it."

A simple explanation really. One that he hoped would calm her, but she was anything but calm. Her anger was working over time, something which didn't happen often. She always tried her absolute best to stay rational. She hated conflict, always had, but this entire situation was enough to boil her blood.

Not only was Michael available for dinner, but he had the choice to come home early. They could have spent most of the day together if he'd actually wanted it. Or at the very least, he could've had the curtesy to phone before he'd left so she wouldn't have wasted her time cooking for him.

She understood his life was a roller coaster most days and despite being in it, she would never fully understand the magnitude of the weight he felt crushing his shoulders.

At times, he needed to step back, breath and allow the child within him to take the front seat just for a little while.

She'd always loved that about him. His ability to enjoy the simple pleasures of life, like spending hours playing games in an arcade just because he could. She just wished she hadn't always been placed in the sidelines of his life in order for him to enjoy it.

At least she knew where she stood, she supposed.

Rolling her eyes to the back of her head, she finally allowed herself to catch his eye and cursed at the puppy dog look he gave so easy.

"I'm very happy for you, Michael. I'm glad you had a nice time." She spoke with a sarcastic bite, her eyes darked and her mouth settled into a permanent frown. "You could've at least called. I spent hours cooking, trying to recreate one of your mother's recipes. I'm so tired of being the last person to know your plans."

Guilt settled into his bones. He hadn't known the extend of the effort she'd been willing to go to in order to cheer him up.

Realising she wasn't getting any sleep any time soon, she scooted further up on the bed, arms circling her knees as she watched the frustration start to take place against the soft features she'd always been so enamoured with.

"Like I said, I'm sorry." He stood, wide eyes still focused on her. "I was a genuine mistake, it could happen to anyone."

"Yeah, six days in a row." She scoffed, pulling at the loose thread of her pyjama top. "That's not even counting the amount of times you've cancelled on me within the last two months. It always is a genuine mistake with you, isn't it?"

"That's not fair." He snapped in defence, his kind, soft tone long gone by now. Michael wasn't a cruel man, but he certainly was defensive when he felt like he was being caged in. "Sometimes things just happen and I can't control it."

"Right, like spending all night in an arcade." She scoffed. "I forgot what an obligation that was."

Michael couldn't help it now, he was in the wrong and he knew it, but admitting his fault was an entirely different story.

Pacing back and fourth, stubbornly running his long fingers through his hair, he turned towards her with narrowed eyes. "What was I supposed to do, huh? I've been working around the clock on this album. I needed to blow off some steam and a friend gave me a way of doing that. Did you expect me to turn that down just to eat some lousy meal with you? You're so selfish some times." There was a darkness to his tone, like he wanted to hurt her, but as soon as he said it, he wished more than anything to take it back.

The words settled heavy in the air and for a moment, neither of them so much as blinked.

His blood ran cold. He hadn't meant to say that, his frustrations had gotten the best of him and he'd taken it out on her. It wasn't his intention and as he noticed the crestfallen look on her face, he felt part of his heart crack as a result of his own pigheadedness.

Stepping towards her, he tried to reach for her shoulder. "Bab-"

"Don't." She snapped, expertly dodging his touch and climbing out of the bed, stumbling just out of reach.

The rapid thump of his heart ached, he could hear his pulse in his ears and regret build in layers. Subtle at first until he suddenly couldn't feel anything but painful remorse.

"It's not like I ask for much from you, Michael! I moved to a completely different state, had to find a brand new job, new friends. I rarely see my family and I've had to learn to keep my guard up with everyone around me in case they use me to try and target you. I did that because you asked me to." And as she said it, it wasn't an accusation. She'd done it willingly, but it didn't change the facts. "I'm so lonely and I never complain about it because I love you! But sure, I'm the selfish one here."

For the first time in their entire realtionship, her voice raised in volume and she'd be a fool not to notice the way his eyes grew in shock at the sound she produced. She hated it. She wasn't usually this way inclined and now she was even more miserable than she had been only moments ago when she was only furious at his late arrival.

Michael stayed quite, not daring to intrupt as he learnt something new. His heart ached at the confession. He hadn't known. She did a wonderful job at keeping her emotions in check while smoothing his own.

He listened as she continued, only this time, her voice lowered in volume and sadness stretched across her pretty face.

"I'm tired of feeling like I'm the only one making an effort and fighting to keep this relationship on track." She confessed, eyes glassy as her resolve broke. "You keep cancelling or worse, you don't show up at all and I've tried to stay calm, but it fucking hurts, Michael." As strong as she was, somethings were impossible to ignore and with that revelation, she allowed the tears to fall. "I have more of a relationship with your secretary's answering machine than I do with you these days."

"That's not true." A weak response, but he had nothing else to give.

"Yes, it is." She persisted, angrily wiping her damp cheeks with the sleeve of her shirt. "You're gone before I wake, you return when I'm already asleep. I'm not a priority to you anymore and I deserve to be trested as something more than an after thought."

The heavy weight of her truth came up to bite them both on the ass. This shouldn't have been the way things were between them. When they were happy, even paradise couldn't tempt them away. But things hadn't been that good for months now and denying it would only cause more hurt in the long run.

Mistaking his silence for hesitation, she gave up. Too tired and too tormented to stay up arguing anymore, she felt the fire leave her body.

"Y'know what? I really don't care anymore." She admitted, walking to the closet, she grabbed a jacket to place over her pyjamas to combat the icy chill of the night air.

"W-where are you going?" He stuttered, trying to reach for her again only to stumble back when she flinched.

"My car... a hotel, I don't know. Anywhere but here." She muttered, wishing more than anything she could stop the abyss of tears that continued to fall. "I don't want to be around you right now."

She'd never said anything like that to him before.

Michael was winded, the breath knocked right from his lungs and he wanted nothing more than that to fix this, but she was already reaching for the handle before his mind could catch up to the severity of the situation at hand.

"Oh, and that lousy meal I made for you is waiting on the table downstairs if you decide you're hungry."

And with that, she stepped out of their bedroom and closed the door right behind her.

₊ ⊹ SUMMARY

It's 1990 and it's been a year since Michael Jackson concluded his Bad world tour. Giving himself a free outlet to write and record his next studio album, he's had a little more freedom to actually experience things he couldn't before. Deciding to show support of his sister Janet during her Rhythm Nation world tour, but something or rather someone else catches his attention. Heading backstage, he manages to corner his little sister once the show is over and insists she introduce him to one of her dancers. After some back and fourth, Janet (who is completely thrown by her brothers persistentce) finally introduces the two of them. Michael knows there's something familiar about her. After the meeting, through dreams, panic attacks and recurring memories, suddenly, they find themselves transported back to another time, remembering another life where they were very much a tragic tale of forbidden love.

₊ ⊹ PREVIEW

While Michael knew his focus should be zoned in on the magnetic way his baby sister so effortlessly commanded such a large stage, he would be lying if he said that's where his priorities lay.

Initially, of course, he'd been unable to tear his gaze away. A soft melody had escaped his own lips from instinct alone ― unplanned but in perfect harmony, at one with the music, becoming the very rhythm his sister sang against. He couldn't help it. Sometimes it felt like music was marked into his DNA. Such things came to him as simple as the reality of breathing. He didn't have to think for it to happen.

Really, there was no other thought in his mind other than the show.

Well, nothing until she seemingly appeared from the darkness, glowing effortlessly like the brightest star guiding the three wise men towards greatness. As his carefully controlled, obsidian gaze found her form, how could he be expected to resist such a holy sight?

There, to Janet's left, practically glittering beneath the rigid heat of unkind stage lights, his eyes caught a tempting glimpse of a figure that practically knocked the breath from his lungs.

Who needed oxygen anyway? Certainly not Michael. The shape of this women was enough to prove he had already made it to heaven.

It wasn't the beauty that held him captive (though if he were honest with himself, there was a lot to admire), nor was it the precision of every move she made (but again, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't impressed and really, it took a lot to impress the Michael Jackson.)

No, it was something else. Something that went beyond any form of attraction he'd felt before, if attraction was even the correct term. He wasn't fully convinced. While he could admit her physically appearance was pleasing, there was something much more alluring pulling him under the surface.

Cascading down like a wave of nostalgia, her presence hit against him like a ton of bricks.

The lines of her body, so heavily focused on the perfomance, there was no room for error. Every movement held purpose. The slide of her foot, the twist of her hips, even the fierce focus displayed so perfectly on her face. She was a performer, that much could never be taken from her.

So perfectly in tune with every beat, her body moved as though tied to the very rhythm in which she performed. Like a flowing river, each step came with breathtaking fluidity, so at ease with every turn, making it easy to see how she had landed a place on such an in demand tour.

It told him so much, yet nothing at all.

There was a love for her craft, a beautiful cadence in the steps which must have taken time to master, yet came so effortlessly. And he knew, of course he knew, just how much time she would've spent in rehearsals studios or alone in her own home working tirelessly to make this moment serve a purpose beyond perfomance.

Michael found himself watching with such intense desire, barley registering the song fading out as another began. The world around him seemed irrelevant as he noticed the mischievous, exciement gleaming in her eyes.

A couple dancers left the stage. They weren't needed for this particular number.

Still, she remained.

One particular move stopped his heart. Nothing fancy, nothing particularly hard. A simple movement of her arms, the sharp lines of her hands, held outwardly on either side, bent expertly at the wrist, reminding him of vibrant, multi-colored paint etched into the walls of what would now be considered a historical landmark.

If he didn't know any better, he could've convinced himself she had been the inspiration for some of the great hieroglyphics locked behind even greater curses, hidden far within the depths of a foreign land.

For a moment, reality slipped from his grasp. The dark, black military attire and the bright, white lighting faded entirely, replaced with something that he shouldn't recognise.

Golden lamé sudden cascaded down her body, like a metallic stream still flowing, some areas cut with a perfect precision to showcase inches of beautiful, soft skin, just enough to tease, but left far too much to the imagination. Iridescent layered silks and chiffon moved rhythmically with each step and dusted against exposed collarbone sat the softest champagne shimmer.

Lit with a royal hue, her face glowed with the light of a thousand suns, eyes ringed with heavy khol eyeliner and hair sleak and gleaming with beautiful jewelled beads.

An ethereal beauty that shouldn't exist and perhaps it never did, because as soon as he blinked the image disappeared and he was greeted with the all too real sight of her back in her militarian style costume, dancing with a ferocity he rarely saw these days while Janet sang her heart out like siren calling upon a willing audience.

Maybe he was going crazy.

Yes, that made much more sense than whatever nonsense his mind had just conjured up. He must have been tired. He never really did sleep at night, did he? Maybe in he was far more exhausted than he realised.

But even as he tried his hardest to concentrate on the world around him, the gold imagery continued to creep up on his completely rational thoughts, tainting then with a familiarity strong enough to drive him into a temporary state of insanity if he wasn't careful.

Guilt was a funny thing and it always found odd ways to creep up on you.

Michael knew he should have been playing the part of the supportive brother, beaming in pride while Janet proved her place as an entertainer. She was wonderful. He knew that to be true and he so hoped he could be the one to shower her with praise, much like she did with him every time she so graciously attended one of this shows. That's what he'd come here for. That's exactly what he had intended to do.

He loved his sister. Sometimes, when he was younger, he would convince himself that they were an old soul split into two youthful bodies. His other half and he cared for her dearly. Michael was so proud of everything Janet had accomplished and he knew his support was something irreplaceable in her eyes.

But every time he tried to bring his focus back to her, that little red devil on his shoulder whispered words of temptation, telling him he would regret tearing his gaze away from the women who had so effortlessly held his attention span captive with zero effort on her part.

Not so much as a tapping foot or a gentle hum had come from Michael, and that had been the first tip off that something wasn't quiet right.

Usually such a huge fan of his sisters music, especially this particular album cycle, he should have been reacting in someway.

Back at Neverland, he often locked himself in his dance studio where he would play Rhythm Nation at full volume and simply allow his body to move.

Those were precious moments where he would give himself chance to discover new things, different moves, how to curve his foot just right and perfect a dance he had long since convinced himself would be impossible.

Janet's music wasn't simple pop. It had the ability to create a legend. He should have been moving by now.

Yet, there he stood, still as stone with a blank look decorating the delicate contours of his face. A far off gaze settled against his features, no tell tale signs that anything was particular bothering him, no indication that he was how fascinated with a women he had never even so much as caught the name of. But to those that knew him, it wasn't hard to notice Michael how completely out of character his current demeanour was.

"Mister Jackson, is something wrong?"

If anyone knew Michael's mannerisms, that would fall on Bill Bray. Having met a young, twelve year old version of the boy that would later take the world by storm, Bill had been there to see it all.

Initially signing on to become security for the boys, he had stuck around all these years. Going from the Jackson 5 to being a steady, grounding, protective presence in his solo career. Bill was more than a bodyguard.

As a child, after shows, Michael would throw himself carelessly into Bill's arms, trusting the older man, with the innocence only a child could hold, to carry him back to safety.

That safe haven had never been broken. He loved him like a father when his own had failed to allow him to show that affection, so it came as no shock to Michael when he heard the curious assumption of his current state leave the mouth of the very man that ushered him into security when life became overwhelming.

Feeling no need to lie, he stepped back, shoulders brushing those of his trusted friend while curious eyes never once moved from the dancing silhouette he'd been fixated on for almost two entire numbers now.

"She feels extremely familiar to me, Bill." Michael nodded in her general direction for what good it was worth.

The whole stage was a masterclass in perfomance. His sister the top billing order, but she was not the only person giving it her all. There were multiple bodies creating a show worth watching and it was easy to lose a dancer in to the beat if you didn't know what to look for.

"Who?" Squinting his kind eyes, Bill made a strong attempt to pick a face from the performers, but the choreography moved so fast, it was hard to settle on just one. "A dancer or back up singer?"

Shaking his head, Michael failed to understand how she wouldn't stand out to another.

"The women on Janet's left." He huffed, refusing to allow his focus to be broken for even a second while his eyes followed the elegant position she formed with her body.

Bill hummed in understanding, her pretty face suddenly in view once he knew who to look for. "She danced for you before?" The question obvious when the subject of Michael's familiairy to the women came into conversation.

"No."

The answer instantaneous, like Michael didn't even have to think to know.

Of course, he was very tuned into every detail that came along with each project he had ever participated in, from singing, to lyricism, to complex choreography, intricate short films and of course, the people working around him.

Being the kind of man he is, Michael always tried his absolute hardest at remembering names and faces of those that surrounded him. While he wasn't perfect and with time, those memories faded to be replaced with new, exciting moments, he was sure of one thing: he would certainly remember her.

"Are you sure?" Bill asked, eyebrows pinched together, not fully convinced.

"I'd remember a name." Michael insisted sharply, a hint of attitude before his face softened.

Other workers backstage weren't in tune with the conversation, they had no clue what they were speaking of and knew better than to approach him out of the blue when he was otherwise occupied by watching the perfomance. Yet, he could still feel their prying eyes and an insant wash of shame came over him once he realised he might have snapped unfairly, so he made a quick move to apologise.

Bill simply waved him off, telling him not to worry about it, but he was determined to get to the bottom of this mystery women causing his friend so much turmoil.

"Could she be a fan you've met before?"

The question wasn't that peculiar. Michael had met many people through various parts of life. That scenario was entirely plausible, yet something screamed at him that this was not the case.

Not by a long shot.

"No." He answered almoat instantly and then sighed heavily with the weight of her familiar features now burnt into his brain. "Well, I don't know actually. Maybe." Even as he said it, the words felt wrong in his mouth, like chewing cardboard to combat hunger. "But if she was… wouldn't she have approached me while all the dancers were waiting in the wings?"

It was a weak attempt at gaining clarity and he knew it, but that niggling voice in the back of his mind told him there was more to this than a simple fan encounter.

"I don't know, Sir." Bill's attempt at being rational fell on dead ears as the two men curiously watched the dancer give her all to a crowd that would never know her name. "She has a job to uphold and I don't think screaming praise towards the 'king of pop' really cements a look of professionalism in the eyes of his sister." Still running with the fan theory, even if he didn't fully believe in it himself.

Watching on, a flash of gold temporarily clouded his vision prompting a tense jaw and stubborn shake of his head. "No. There's just something about her."

For a moment, the two men fell silent, the sound of a rowdy crowd, Janet's beautiful singing and the boom of a heavy bass being the only sound between them. The with a soft smile, Bill turned his steady gaze towards Michael and sighed.

"Good fish?" He asked.

An overwhelming reminiscence showered him with stubborn determination. There was something about her. He knew her. He knew he knew her.

Somehow, someway. Even if it didn't make sense to him.

There was simply no way to express that without sounding like a deranged man with a terrifying obsession, so instead of voicing his curiosity, Michael allowed himself to nod along and give peace of mind to the situation for the time being.