#angelfacesfilms

Pairing: Thrad!Michael x afab! reader

Synopsis: basically, you and Michael lost your child but the world keeps spinning. (Word count: 1.41k)

Tags: heavy topics of pregnancy issues, mentions of Placenta Previa, tabloids , angstttt, open ended ending, grief of child loss

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YAWP!! ||We shout out what they don't want you to hear!

Plan: 'King of Pop's Baby Mama' Aborted?

09 November 1985

Mrs Jackson spotted in recent photos looking noticeably slimmer and, let's face it, dull despite her glowing aura and her extra pounds in a very specific area at the “Time Bomb” premiere just two months ago. In spite of the couple trying to keep the pregnancy on the down low, our sources say there might be trouble in paradise between the two. Was there a twisted turn in trying to trap the superstar that had a grave effect on the relationship? Could it be MJ has finally caught onto her twisted scheme? Fingers crossed!

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You throw the tabloid watching it land in front of Michael’s feet just as he enters the room. With cautious movement, he picks up the bundle of paper while you watch with a distant look. This carefully made thing of ink and wood pulp managed to signify the distance that has unfolded before you. You exhale dramatically as though it took your entire body to make said exhale. Swiftly, Michael’s behind you hovering not touching as he was unsure on how to approach you lately. 

“My love...”, Michael coaxed before you could spiral into a rant filled with panic and rage—at everything. Attempting to reach you, he places his big hands either side of your waist but you flinch instinctively. 

“The audacity to call me ‘King of Pop’s Baby Mama’? Are we not legally married?!”. You began your inevitable spiral and did not notice as Michael deflates in real time; his head dropping with a heaviness of exhaustion. 

Your dismissive reaction to his touch was new but a habit you’d only started two months ago, “They could have at least respected our matrimony—I mean shit!”

“Baby—”, he stays gentle in spite of your rising agitation. His hands ghosts over your waist again but drop almost unnoticeably. Michael’s habit of disassociating catches him at the wrong time and he lets your voice bleed into silence, mind wandering elsewhere. Michael remembers every detail about that night.

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He had been busy at the studio the whole day in full preparation for the new upcoming album—which meant very late nights. It wasn't the first time Michael had come home late to you. You both knew—if only subconsciously—that his work was the most important thing to him. He remembers it was a great session, everything was going the way it needed to, one of those nights where everything fit into place and he never wanted it to end because it meant going back to the hours of brainstorming only to end up blank. He heard the phone ring twice before he picked it up. He wasn't sure what he was expecting—he was muttering lyrics under his breath when he heard the nurse on the other end start.

“Hello, Mr. Jackson?”, he furrowed his brow.

“Yes”, Michael answered a bit irritated at the intrusion. 

“Uh, this is Encino Hospital. Your wife was brought in—” his heart dropped immediately. The room went still and his head filled with noise, a ringing so loud he couldn't hear what she said next. 

Her voice turned into a whisper in the back of his mind as Michael dropped the telephone, rushing out without explanation—his studio long forgotten.

If he cared, Michael was sure he sounded like a madman, calling out Bill's name as he rushed to the car. When Bill made his way outside, ever efficient even in the middle of the night, he knew something was wrong. The quiver in Michael's lip, the scared look in his eye that even his father couldn't bring out of him, even when he was younger. This was new and terrifying. 

By the time Michael told him where to drive to, they were already in the car and speeding out the mansion's gates.

As the nurse directs him to the Emergency Bay he tries to stop his mind from racing. A thousand thoughts of what might have happened spilling through the doors of his mind before he could slam them shut. It's hard for him to breathe, his vision's blurred, he doesn't even notice he's arrived until the door to your room opens and he's exposed to the chaos inside.

The first thing he sees is you, surrounded by the sterile white of the hospital it almost looks like you're in heaven, but he's pulled back down into reality when he sees the blood. A nurse bumps into Michael's shoulder as she rushes past him to you but she stops once she sees who he is.

“Mr. Jackson—” 

“What’s happening? Why is she bleeding?”, he questions heatedly before taking two steps closer to you. You were laying there falling in and out of consciousness. 

You feel the bright light on your face, faintly hearing sounds of voices and a familiar voice but it uttered almost verminously. “Can someone answer me?! What’s happening?”

Michael didn’t even realise he was shouting until he saw the doctor wince. He muttered a small apology before turning his gaze back to you as the doctor clears his throat. 

"Your wife called for an ambulance due to sudden bleeding. We can't give a diagnosis without her gynecologist present, but she's on the way. Our job is to stabilise her heart-rate as well as her blood pressure.” 

He sighs in relief, hearing that someone you both knew and trusted was on the way. Michael runs his hands over his face in exasperation, his fingers wiping sweat off his forehead. There's no time to process what comes next as he's quickly ushered out of the room and directed to the OR waiting room. One whole hour of waiting before he hears from anyone.

“Placenta Previa”, the doctor explained, the placenta had blocked your cervix causing severe bleeding. The placenta had seperated from your uterus which deprived the fetus of nutrients. You had woken up from the anesthesia feeling hollow—emotionally and physically. Your hand would snake up to hold your stomach, only to flinch back at the feeling of stitches running over where your bump should be.

Michael had held your hand the entire time as the doctor explained that due to these circumstances your child had to be delivered immediately but could not be saved. “The premature birth caused respitory complications which had lead to the child’s death.”

At 4 in the morning, on what Michael later learned would be an ironically bright sunny day, the two of you had lost a child you never got to meet, a life you never got to celebrate. All those late evenings of giddy whispers under the sheets, picking out the silliest names you could just to make each other laugh amounted to nothing.

The doctor had left soon after, realising that the only thing he could do was to give you two the space to grieve, but the two of you didn't speak, too caught up in your own worlds to notice the other slipping away. 

Staring off into the distance, you didn't notice Michael's thumb subconsciously caressing your knuckles, or his eyes slowly looking up if only to meet your gaze before seeing the gaunt look on your face and looking away.

He takes a breath, parting his lips to say something—what? He isn't sure, when there's a hurried knock on the door. A receptionist calling him to the phone saying it was John Branca. 

He gave you a look, one you had grown to knowing. He quickly glanced at you, before kissing your hand and leaving. You had felt the cold sterile room as his presence disappeared. 

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The sound of the phone ringing brings Michael back to reality. Your voice goes silent like a switch flicked off. The both of you stand there, the silence periodically interrupted by the shrill pealing of the phone. There's a tired look in your eye, one that pleads with him not to go, but he doesn't listen. And you don't know why you thought he ever would.

"Baby," he wants to say more but just like that night in the hospital, he doesn't. His eyes look over your withdrawn figure. "I'm sorry." You can't help but sigh, your hand runs down your face, stopping to cover your eyes and the tears that start to fall from them.

You hear his footsteps fade into silence.

AngelfacesBTS: First fanfic- kinda nervous. This took a lot longer than it should have lmaoo. Big thanks to @siosui; I LITERALLY wouldn’t have been able to write this without her. Feedback is appreciated<3