#off the record

i am entrusting you with this:

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Michael's bedroom holds the faint scent of cedar and warm linen as he backs you against the edge of the bed, his lips never leaving yours as your pulse hammers beneath your skin. His larger frame crowds close, hands sliding up your sides in a slow, deliberate glide that map the curves of your waist. He pauses for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “If you want me to stop at any point, let me know okay, baby?”

Your heart melts at his words. He’s always so considerate. “I will, but I don’t want you to stop.”

He smiles as he kisses you again, his tongue moving slowly into your mouth. He eases you down onto the sheets and follows, his body settling over yours. He breaks the kiss only to gently tug at your shirt. “Can I?” He asks. You nod, allowing him to lift your shirt over your head. He sets it aside and then takes off your bra. He pauses as he looks at your bare chest, breathing heavily. “You’re so beautiful…” He breathes, taking you in. 

You blush as you play with the hem of his shirt. “It’s your turn now.” He laughs softly and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it aside.

For a moment, you simply look at each other. There’s something different about being this close to him now. The nervousness is still there, but it’s mixed with a sense of trust that makes you feel safe. Michael reaches up and brushes a strand of hair away from your face. “You okay?”

You nod. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

A small smile touches your lips. “I’m sure.”

He leans down and kisses you again, slower this time. You wrap your arms around him, letting yourself relax into the warmth of his embrace. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours. “I don't want you to feel rushed.” He whispers.

“I don't.”

He searches your eyes for another moment, then smiles. “Good.”

You pull him back toward you, answering him with another kiss. Without breaking the kiss, his knee gently parts your thighs as he presses closer. His cock is already firm, pressing against his pants as he rocks against you. You moan as you meet his pace, feeling yourself getting more wet. The kiss deepens quickly, your tongues sliding hot and hungry, teeth grazing as his hands travel to your breasts and your fingers work at the button of his pants. Arousal pools low in your belly, your pussy already slick and throbbing against the seam of your panties.

Michael's breath hitches against your ear as he pulls away for a moment. ”Wait baby, slow down. I want to make sure you really want this. I also um…I mean, I don’t look the same as I used to down there.” He says, looking at you as he blushes slightly. You smile softly, bringing him closer to you again, cupping his face. “I do want this Michael, I want you. You don’t have to worry, you’re perfect the way you are.”

A grin tugs at his mouth as his lips find yours in a gentle press at first, parting with a sweetness that tastes like the restraint he’s been holding is finally breaking. You both groan into the kiss, as one of Michael’s hands drops to squeeze your ass and pull your hips flush against his, grinding the hard length of him against your core so you can feel every inch which causes you to shudder.

Your fingers finally free the button of his pants as you slip your hand inside to wrap around the hot, velvet length of him, your thumb sweeping over the slick bead at the tip. Michael lets out a low moan as his hands roam greedily now, finding their way to the hem of your skirt. He pushes your skirt up around your waist as he continues to rock against your pussy, the denim of his open jeans grazing over your clit through the thin fabric. 

Michael can’t hold back any longer. With a low moan, he pushes your panties fully down and frees his cock from the confines of his pants, the heavy length hot and rigid in his fist as he dragged the blunt head through your drenched folds, coating himself in your arousal. 

Your back arches off of the bed, your legs parting instinctively. Your pussy clenching visibly with anticipation while your fingers dig into his shoulders, pulling him closer. He slows his movements as he trails his hands down your body, taking you in with deep desire swirling his eyes.

“I gotta get you ready for me first, pretty baby…” He whispers, tracing two fingers around your clit. He slowly slides his fingers into your pussy, moving deep and steady, opening you up. You cry out as your walls clench around his fingers. "You're so wet for me." He groans, his thumb finding your clit. “Feels…so good Michael…” You moan as he continues to pump his fingers in and out for a few more moments.

He then withdraws his fingers and lines his cock up. He looks at you with a small smile. “Ready, baby?”

You nod in anticipation, your breathing heavy as you watch him guide himself with shaking precision to your entrance. The thick crown of his cock nudges your entrance, stretching your opening as he pushes forward. You both let out a moan as the first inch slides inside with exquisite friction, your inner walls gripping his cock tightly. Your eyes meet his as he pauses for a moment, allowing you to get used to his size. “Are you okay, baby?” He asks, his breathing laboured. “Yes, please give me more Michael.” You whimper, rolling your hips to meet his. 

Michael chuckles as he leans down to kiss you and begins to move forward in a steady rhythm, driving his full length into you, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room. His free hand finds your clit, rubbing in gentle circles while he continues to move inside you. 

His mouth trails soft, wet kisses along your shoulder, your collarbone and your jaw. Every stroke is deep and measured, his cock stretching you open as he fills you. One of his hands rests in your hair, holding you gently as he moves. The other reaches around to stroke your clit in slow circles while he thrusts. 

"That's it." He breathes, his hips rolling forward with steady pressure. His balls tap against you with each movement, the wet sound of your pussy growing louder in the room as he continues. He leans over and presses kisses to your shoulder as his cock pulses inside you. His pace stays measured, each thrust drawing deep moans from your throat. “You sound so pretty for me, angel.” He whispers, pressing kisses to your shoulder and neck.

You whimper at his praises. He reaches down to rest his hand at your throat, holding you gently while his cock moves in and out of your soaked pussy. His thumb continues to circle your clit, rubbing steadily as you both chase your releases. The bed shifts beneath you with each thrust. “Michael I’m close.” You whine, feeling the tight coil in your stomach about to snap.

“Me too, baby…I'm going to fill you up." He murmurs, his hips stuttering as his cock swells inside you. He pushes in one final time, burying himself deep as the both of you cum. A moan stutters from your lips as you feel your release work through your body, causing you to see stars.

Michael’s cock pulses as hot spurts of cum flood your pussy. His fingers keep working your clit, bringing you to the brink of overstimulation as your walls tighten around him. Michael stays buried inside you, his cock still twitching as he catches his breath. Cum leaks out around his shaft, dripping down your ass onto the sheets. He pulls out slowly, watching his cum spill from your stretched pussy. 

He collapses beside you and you both lay there for a moment, until he rests his forehead against yours as the both of you pant to catch your breath.

After a moment, Michael sits up. “I’ll be right back, angel.” He says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he gets up and goes to the bathroom. He returns moments later with a glass of water and a warm cloth. “May I?” He says, resting his free hand on one of your thighs.

You smile and open them. He gently cleans your pussy and the gentleness makes your heart melt as his other hand caresses your inner thigh. When he finishes, he hands you the glass of water. You smile softly, taking a sip and handing it back to him. “Thank you Michael.” You say, your voice hoarse.

"Of course angel.”

You both lay there for a moment, just staring at each other. 

“So..." He murmurs after a while, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

"So…" You echo as you reach up and brush your fingertips against his cheek. "That was something."

He lets out a soft chuckle. “It sure was. I didn’t think I still had that in me.” 

You laugh. “Oh don’t worry, you still got it. I think you rocked my world, no pun intended. But seriously, I don’t think I’ll be able to walk tomorrow.”

He laughs with you as he closes his eyes for just a second, leaning further into your touch before opening them again. "Thank you." He whispers.

"For what?"

"For making this feel..." He searches for the right word. "safe."

Your heart tightens. "It is."

"I know." He lets out a nervous little laugh. "I should probably confess something."

"What's that?"

"I've been trying very hard to seem composed."

"And?"

"I'm failing spectacularly."

You giggle. "I couldn't tell."

"You couldn't?"

"No."

"I've been panicking this entire time, even while we were having sex."

"I've been panicking about us for weeks."

His eyes widen before he bursts into laughter. "We've been two nervous people flirting with each other this entire time?"

"I think so."

"Well..." He says, smiling. "That explains a lot."

"It really does."

The laughter dissolves the last of the tension between you. Without thinking, you reach for him again and brush your lips against his. This kiss is slower and filled with reassurance.

His hand rests gently against the side of your face while yours settle over his heart, feeling its steady rhythm beneath your palm. When the kiss ends, neither of you hurry to begin another. Instead, Michael rests his chin lightly on top of your head and wraps his arms around you. You lay there together, simply holding one another.

"I like this," he admits quietly.

"The cuddling?"

"Mhm."

"You sound surprised."

"I am."

"You've hugged people before."

"Not like this."

You tilt your head to look up at him. "What makes it different?"

He smiles. "I don't feel like I'm expected to be anyone other than myself. Sorry if that sounds a little weird."

Your expression softens. "It’s not weird. You know, I notice that you constantly apologize."

He blinks. "I do?"

"'Sorry if that sounds a little weird.’ Sorry I talked too much.' 'Sorry I'm nervous.' 'Sorry if this sounds silly.'"

He laughed under his breath. "I suppose I do that a lot then."

"You don't have to apologize for being yourself."

He looks at you for a long moment before quietly asking, "Do you really mean that?"

"I really do."

His eyes shimmer with emotion, though his smile never fades. "I don't think anyone's ever said that to me."

Your thumb traced slow circles along the back of his head. "Then I'll keep reminding you."

His voice is barely audible. "I think I'd like that."

Another comfortable silence settled over the room. Eventually, Michael chuckles. "You know..."

"Hm?"

"We came all the way upstairs."

You raise an eyebrow. "We did."

"And I hope you know my goal today wasn’t to get you in my bed."

You can't help laughing. "Ah, so you were ahead of schedule then? Sex wasn’t supposed to be this fast?" You say, teasing him.

He covers his face with one hand, laughing as his face turns red. "I…no, that’s not what I meant."

"You hesitated."

"My pause."

"Your pause."

He smiles through his embarrassment. "I guess I realized that I thought today was about where this relationship was going and how things would change. It kind of scared me at first, I wasn’t sure that this would be what you wanted."

He gently squeezes your hand, staring deeply into your eyes. "But I think this is exactly where it's going and where it’s supposed to be."

You smile. "This is exactly what I want. We’re in this together."

His smile is immediate. "Yes, together." He leans down and presses one more gentle kiss to your forehead.

—

The afternoon drifts by so quietly that neither of you notice how much time has passed. You both stay in each other's embrace, quietly talking and laughing. Michael glances at the clock on the bedside table, noticing the time.

"I invited you over, and I've been keeping you in here." He says.

You smile. "I don't exactly feel imprisoned."

"I hope not."

"You've been a very polite captor."

He laughs, shaking his head. "You know, laying here I was thinking..." He looks almost sheepish. "I never showed you the library. I know how much you love books, so maybe we should go take a look through it."

"You have a library?"

His eyebrows lift. "You sound surprised."

"I've seen your house from the outside. I assumed you had a library."

"So why are you surprised?"

"I didn't think you'd want to show me."

He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. "I'm wounded."

You roll your eyes playfully. "You'll recover."

"I don't know."

"You've survived much worse than my teasing."

"I suppose I have."

Still smiling, he reaches for your hand again. "Come on."

—

The library occupies nearly an entire wing of the house. The moment Michael opens the doors, the scent of old paper and leather greets you. Shelves stretched toward the ceiling, interrupted only by rolling ladders and tall windows overlooking the grounds. 

You stop in the doorway. "Michael."

"What?"

"This is bigger than my apartment."

He laughs. "I don't think it is."

"It absolutely is."

He rubs the back of his neck. "I might have collected a few books."

"A few?"

He gestures around the room. "Okay, maybe a few thousand."

You laugh as you slowly wander between the shelves, reading titles as you pass. Classics. Poetry. History. Photography. Art. Children's stories. Music. Biographies. You find books in several different languages. Every shelf seems to reveal another side of him. "You've actually read these?" you ask.

"Most of them."

"Most?"

"I re-read my favourites."

You pull a well-loved copy of The Little Prince from a shelf. "This one's been read a lot." 

His smile softens. "I read that whenever life feels loud."

You look at the worn pages. "I used to read this with my grandfather when I was little."

His eyes meet yours. "Really?"

You nod, a smile forming on your lips. "We'd take turns reading chapters. My grandpa always read the chapters dramatically, especially when the prince met a new character."

He smiles in that quiet way he's begun to do whenever he discovers something new about you. "I like learning these things."

"What things?"

"The pieces of your life before I met you." 

You slide the book back into place. "I like learning yours too."

He leans against one of the shelves. "I've never had someone seem so interested in me."

"I’m interested."

"You ask questions no one's ever asked me."

You consider that for a moment. "Yeah, you’re right."

"What is it?"

"I just...I like understanding people." You say.

"And me?"

You smile. "I especially like understanding you."

Michael looks away with a bashful smile, a blush forming on his cheeks. "You make me blush a lot."

"You make it very easy."

"I noticed."

"You get this little smile."

"I do not."

"You absolutely do."

"I don't."

"You really do."

He covers his face with both hands. "Oh dear."

"There it is."

"What?"

"The smile."

"I can't help it."

"I know."

He peeks at you through his fingers. "You're enjoying this far too much."

"I really am." You say with a big smile on your face. "I think I've figured something out."

"Oh?"

"I like making you laugh." Your expression softens. "I think it's becoming one of my favourite sounds."

His smile returns immediately. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Before either of you can continue, a knock sounds gently at the open library door. Michael looks over. "Come in."

An older housekeeper steps inside with an understanding and apologetic smile. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr. Jackson."

"It's alright." Michael says gently.

"I just wanted to let you know dinner will be ready whenever you'd like."

Michael glances toward you with warmth in his eyes. "Are you hungry?" You haven’t realized it until he asks as your stomach lets out a low rumble. "A little."

He smiles and looks back at the housekeeper. "We'll be down shortly. Thank you."

As she leaves, you turn to him with a teasing smile. "So…I get to see what you cook?"

His laughter echoes through the library. "Oh no."

"What?"

"I don't cook."

"You made toast."

"I made one successful piece of toast."

"I'm still proud of you."

"As you should be."

"But dinner?"

He grins. "I wisely leave that to people who know what they're doing."

"So your culinary career begins and ends with toast?"

He thinks about it. "There was cereal once."

You laugh so hard you have to grab the bookshelf for balance. "Cereal? Seriously Michael?"

"Hey, I was very successful!"

"I'm sure you were."

"I didn't burn it."

"Michael, I'm not sure that's possible."

"You'd be surprised."

You shake your head, still smiling. "Come on, Toast Master."

He groans dramatically. "You are never going to let me forget that, are you?"

"Not a chance."

He offers you his arm with exaggerated dignity. "Then I suppose I'll simply have to accept my fate."

With a giggle, you slip your hand through his arm. "No," You say as the two of you walk out of the library together. "I think your fate is much nicer than that."

He glances down at you, the warmth in his eyes unmistakable as he leans down and kisses your cheek. "I think you're right."

—

Dinner turned out to be just as unhurried as the rest of the day. The dining room, despite its size, doesn’t feel intimidating with only the two of you there. Michael insists you sit beside him rather than across the table.

"It feels less formal," He explains.

"Less formal?"

"Yeah, I feel like I've had enough formal dinners to last a lifetime."

"So have I." You admit.

When your food is served, you and Michael fall into a natural conversation. It wanders from your favourite books to childhood memories, then somehow to terrible jokes. Michael attempts three, but only one makes sense.

"You know," You say between laughs, "you're much funnier than people realize."

He looks genuinely surprised. "You think so?"

"I do."

"I always worry I sound silly."

"You do."

His face falls slightly.

"But." You add with a grin. "I happen to like silly things and silly people."

His smile returns instantly. "Good."

After dinner, the two of you wander out onto the balcony as the evening settles over Neverland. The sky has begun its slow transformation from pale blue to soft shades of amber and lavender. Lights around the grounds flicker on one by one, and from somewhere in the distance comes the faint melody of the carousel.

You lean against the railing beside him. "It's beautiful."

He nods, looking at you. “Yes, you really are.”

You blush, flustered at his words. “When did you get so smooth Mr. Jackson?”

“I’ve always been smooth, angel.”

You get closer to him and gently push his shoulder. “Whatever you say, handsome.”

Michael laughs, his eyes crinkling as he looks at you. “I’ll take that.”

“You should.”

For a moment, neither of you says anything. You remain beside each other on the balcony, watching the last traces of daylight fade over Neverland. The sky has turned deep lavender now, with only a thin line of amber lingering along the horizon. Below, the lights around the grounds glow softly, illuminating the winding paths and gardens.

The quiet between you feels comfortable. Michael reaches over and takes your hand. “I’m really glad you came.”

You glance at him with a smile. “I’m glad I came too.”

“I wasn't sure you would.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, looking down at your joined hands. “I don't know. I suppose I thought maybe you'd see all of this and think it was too much.”

You smile. “Neverland?”

He nods.

“I think it's beautiful.”

His gaze finds yours.

“Plus, I think I like this version of you even more.” You add

He smiles softly. “What version is that?”

“The one who lets his guard down and is just Michael, not Michael Jackson. Also, the one who tells terrible jokes.”

He laughs. “You said you liked them!”

“I said I liked silly things and silly people.”

“And I'm silly?”

“Very.”

He shakes his head, laughing under his breath. You smile at him, feeling something warm settle in your chest. Michael extends his hand. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“I want to show you something.”

You slide your hand into his as you follow him down the balcony steps. He leads you along one of the garden paths as the evening seems to invite the both of you to slow down. You pass flower beds glowing beneath small garden lights and trees that sway gently in the night breeze. Eventually, the carousel comes into view, with its lights glowing against the darkness. You look at Michael. “Really?”

He grins. “Really.”

“You're impossible.”

“Maybe.”

He leads you toward it, and before long, the music begins. The two of you ride beneath the warm lights, laughing when the horses rise and fall. For a little while, you're not thinking about what any of this means going forward.

You're simply happy.

When the ride ends, Michael walks you back toward the house. By the time you reach the entrance, the night has grown considerably darker. A small breeze stirs a strand of your hair, and before you can tuck it away, Michael reaches over and does it for you without thinking. You smile as his hand lingers for just a second against your cheek.

"I've had a really wonderful day." He says quietly.

"So have I."

He smiles. "It wasn't because of…how things progressed today."

"No?"

He shakes his head. "I would've been happy just sitting with you all afternoon."

"I know."

"You do?"

"I would've been happy too."

His shoulders relax as a smile graces his lips. "I don't think I've smiled this much in years."

You reach over and slip your fingers through his again. "I noticed that too." He looks down at your joined hands before lifting them to press a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

"I hope today isn't unusual."

"It doesn't have to be."

"You think we could have dates like this again?"

"As many as we want."

His answering smile is quiet but radiant. "I'd like that very much."

You look at the door. “I guess this is where I say goodnight.”

Michael looks at you. “I'll take you home.”

“You don't have to.”

“I know.” There's a quiet certainty in his voice. “I want to.”

You smile. “Okay.”

A short while later, you're sitting beside him in the car as the gates of Neverland slowly disappear behind you. The drive is peaceful as soft music plays quietly through the speakers. Every now and then, Michael glances over at you. “You're awfully quiet.” He says.

“So are you.”

“I’m enjoying the silence.”

“Me too.”

He smiles.

You watch the lights of the road pass outside your window, replaying the evening in your mind: your first time having sex with Michael, the dinner, the balcony, the carousel, the way he'd looked at you when he said he was glad you'd come. Eventually, the familiar streets near your home appear. You feel a reluctance to leave when Michael pulls up outside and puts the car in park.

“I really enjoyed today.” You say.

“So did I.”

You turn toward him. “Thank you for today.”

“Thank you for coming. Let me walk you to the lobby.”

You smile. “Okay.”

Michael gets out and opens the passenger door for you. You step out onto the sidewalk, and he closes the door behind you before taking your hand in his. The night air is cooler than it was earlier, and you instinctively pull your jacket a little tighter around yourself.

Michael notices. “Are you cold?”

“A little.”

He gives you a small smile, wrapping his arm around you. “Come on.”

You walk with him toward the entrance of your building, neither of you saying much. There’s something intimate about the quiet after everything you’ve shared tonight. His shoulder brushes yours once, then again, and neither of you moves away.

When you reach the front doors, you stop. “Well,” you say softly, looking up at him. “This is me.”

“I know.”

You smile.

Michael looks at you for a long moment, his expression warm and almost reluctant. He then gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “I'll call you.”

“You better.”

He smiles. “I will.”

You hesitate before letting go of his hand.

“Goodnight, Michael.”

“Goodnight, baby.”

You turn toward the entrance, but before you can, Michael pulls you back and gives you a kiss. After a moment, he pulls away and gives you a smile. You blush, kiss his cheek and push open the door.

Before stepping inside, you glance back at him. He's still standing there. You give him one last smile and walk through the doors.

Michael doesn't turn away. He waits until you make it safely across the lobby and disappear toward the elevators before finally stepping back from the entrance.

You look through the glass doors one last time. He's still there, watching. And somehow, that makes it even harder to leave.

—

Later that night, you're getting ready for bed when your phone rings. You pick up the receiver, knowing immediately that it’s Michael. A smile immediately spreads across your face.

You answer. “Hello?”

“Hi, baby.” His voice is soft with affection. “You made it to your apartment okay?”

“I did.” You say, blushing at the nickname he’s given you.

“Good.”

You smile, sitting down on the edge of your bed. “You sound relieved.”

“I am.”

“You were worried about me?”

“Of course I was.”

There’s a brief yet comfortable silence as your heart gives a little flutter.

“I was wondering.” He continues, “If maybe I could see you again tomorrow.”

You laugh softly. “You don't waste any time, do you?”

“Not when it comes to you.”

Your smile widens. “Tomorrow sounds nice, I do have to host another podcast episode with you eventually.” you finally say.

“That’s true, then it can be a podcast date.” He says.

You lean back against your pillows, blushing. “I'd like that.”

“Good, so would I.” His voice softens again. “Now get some sleep.”

“I will, you too.”

“I'll call you tomorrow.”

“You better.”

“I will, I promise.”

For a few seconds, you simply listen to each other breathe.

“Goodnight, baby,” he finally whispers.

“Goodnight, Michael.”

The line clicks. You slowly place the receiver back on the phone and stare at it, unable to stop smiling. Something has changed tonight. Not only because of what happened but you can feel it in your heart that going forward, things will be different.

You turn off the light and slip beneath the covers, your thoughts already drifting back to his voice, his smile, the warmth of his hand in yours.

You close your eyes.

Tomorrow can't come soon enough.

—

Morning arrives sooner than you expect. Sunlight spills through the curtains of your bedroom, waking you before your alarm. For a moment, you're disoriented, staring at the ceiling. Then you remember.

A smile slowly spreads across your face.

Michael.

You reach for the phone before remembering that he promised to call you, and almost as if he'd heard the thought, it rings.

You laugh softly to yourself before picking it up. “Hello?”

“Good morning, baby.”

Your heart skips. “Good morning.”

“I didn't wake you, did I?”

“No. You caught me right on time.”

“Good. I was thinking about you.”

You sit up, pulling the blankets around yourself. “Already?”

“Already.”

You shake your head, smiling. “I was thinking about you too.”

The conversation lingers longer than either of you planned it to be. Michael tells you about his morning, the little things he has planned before the podcast and you find yourself listening to every word as though there’s something hidden between the sentences.

When you both hang up, you both agree to host this episode at your studio. You spend the rest of the morning preparing questions and getting ready. You call Liz ahead of time to get the studio set up, but ask her if it can just be you and Michael at the studio.

Liz pauses for a moment when you make the request. “Just you and Michael?”

“Yes.”

There’s a teasing smile in her voice when she answers. “Should I be asking why?”

You laugh softly. “Um, no. Just trust me.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll make sure everything’s ready.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And don’t worry, I won’t interrupt.”

You smile. “Appreciate you.”

After you hang up, you set the receiver down and look around your room.

Just you and Michael.

The thought makes your stomach flutter.

You try to focus on the questions you’ve been preparing, but every few minutes your mind wanders back to him. To last night and the way he took care of you while you had sex. To the phone call this morning. To the way his voice had softened when he told you he was thinking about you.

You want this episode to be different. Not because you’re trying to make something happen. But because you want the chance to talk to him and ask him the deeper questions you’ve been wanting to ask. And maybe, if the moment feels right, to let him see a little more of what you’ve been feeling too.

By the time you’re ready to leave, you’ve gone through your questions at least three times.

You grab your bag, check your reflection one last time, and take a deep breath. “Okay,” you whisper to yourself. You take another breath and leave your apartment.

—

On the drive to your studio, you’re a bundle of nerves, but not because of the podcast episode. You know that things have changed between you and Michael, and you hope that he feels the same way: that these feelings between you aren't something you’re imagining alone.

By the time you arrive at the studio, you’re still smiling.

When you open the door, Michael is already there. The moment he sees you, his expression changes. His usual confident grin softens into something warmer, something meant only for you. “Hey, baby.”

“Hi.” You reply shyly. 

He walks towards you with his arms open. You step into his embrace and the hug lasts just a little longer than it probably should, but neither of you seems interested in being the first to let go. “Missed you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss in your hair.

“You saw me yesterday.”

“I still missed you.”

You pull back, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you like me anyway.”

You try to hide your smile. “I might.”

He laughs as the two of you head inside to the main room.

When you open your studio door, everything is already ready as expected. The microphones are positioned and the headphones are waiting. But today feels different. Last time, there had been nerves and a careful distance between the two of you. Today, there’s something else.

Comfort.

You settle into your chair and put on your headphones. Michael sits down and puts on his headphones too, then he looks across the table at you. “Ready?”

You smile. “Ready.”

You press record and the recording light turns on. You lean toward the microphone. “Welcome back to Off The Record, everyone. Today’s episode is a little different, but I’m pleased to welcome back Mr. Michael Jackson for a second episode. I know a lot of you were looking forward to hearing him again, and thank you all for the love of our first episode together. This episode will be different because instead of me asking Michael the usual questions that’s expected in interviews, I’m putting him on the hot seat.”

Michael laughs. “Oh, this sounds like it’ll be dangerous.”

“You should be worried.”

“I am.” He says, winking at you.

You glance at him, trying not to smile too much. “Okay, first question. What’s something people assume about you that isn’t actually true?”

Michael thinks for a moment. “That I always know what I’m doing.”

You laugh. “Do you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Good answer.”

He grins. “Thank you. I know a lot of people expect me to know what I’m doing, but I’ve learned that I’m only human.”

“I guess you could say that it’s human nature.” You say, trying to suppress a giggle.

Michael throws his head back and laughs. “Now you’re making jokes with my songs?”

You laugh along with him. “Hey, someone has to keep the legacy of your songs alive.”

You let your laughter settle down for a moment as you glance down at the next question, then back at him. “What’s something you’re afraid of?”

His expression becomes more thoughtful. “Losing people I care about.”

The answer catches you off guard. “That makes sense, it’s hard losing those you care about.”

He stares at you, warmth filling his eyes. “Yes, especially with those people you care about that kind of sneak up on you.”

“What do you mean?”

He shifts in his seat, thinking about his answer. “I believe that the people that come into your life unexpectedly and change your life completely, are always the ones you’re most worried about losing. Because before you met them, life felt…incomplete, and they’re the missing piece.” He finishes, looking directly at you.

You lower your eyes for a moment, because you know he’s talking about you. You clear your throat before asking the next question. “Okay, next question. What makes you feel at home with someone?”

Michael looks directly at you. “When I can be completely myself.”

You nod slowly. “Do you think that’s rare?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because people are always trying to impress each other. Or protect themselves. Sometimes you meet someone and you just…don't feel like you have to do either.”

Your heart beats a little faster, because you know exactly what he means. You continue. “What’s something you wish people knew about you?”

Michael smiles faintly. “That I care more than I let on.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Really.” He says, leaning into the microphone closer. “I mean, I know people know that I care, but I think that sometimes people think I do it because I’m Michael Jackson and I have to, not because I want to. But I do, I love helping people and I deeply care about the world.”

You feel a smile spread across your lips. “Yeah, I can tell that you really care about others, which is quite rare with famous people.”

You ask Michael a few more questions, some about his childhood and his days with The Jackson 5, before you look down at your notes again. “Alright Michael, one last question that I really want to ask.”

Michael leans closer. “I’m listening.”

“This might be personal and don’t feel pressured to answer if you don’t want to. What are you looking for when you let someone into your life?”

This time, he doesn't answer immediately. His eyes stay on yours. “Something real.”

Your breath catches. “Nothing complicated?”

“Well, real things are always complicated. But I always want something honest when I let someone into my life. Something where neither of us has to pretend. And I understand that if I really let someone matter to me, it won't always be easy. But that's part of what makes it real."

You smile. “That's a good answer, being real and authentic is important.”

He smiles back. “And what about you?”

You blink. “I'm the one asking the questions.”

“I know.”

“You can't turn this around on me.”

“Why not?”

“Because this is my podcast, I can't answer questions! We've been over this.” You say, laughing.

Michael laughs along with you. “Okay fine, I'll save that question for later then. I still think that the host should be allowed to answer one question from the guest.”

You giggle and then lean into the microphone. “Alright everyone, that’s it for this episode. A huge thanks to Mr. Michael Jackson for joining me once again, and I’ll see you all next time for Off The Record.”

You press stop and the recording ends. Michael takes off his headphones. “You asked some pretty serious questions this time.”

“Well, I had to dig a little deeper this time around.”

He smiles. “That's fair. You wanted honest answers.”

“I did.”

He looks at you, warmth filling his dark brown eyes. “And you got them.” He reaches for your hand as the both of you head out.

—

When you reach the studio exit, Michael stops, his eyes searching yours with that familiar, quiet intensity. The space between you shrinks as he steps closer to you. "Call me when you get home?" He murmurs, his voice a soft anchor in the quiet.

"I will." You promise.

He squeezes your hand and kisses your cheek, before finally letting go. "Get home safe, angel."

"You too, handsome."

You turn to leave, but the pull of him keeps you tethered. You glance back once, then twice. He’s standing in the doorway, watching you with an expression that feels like a confession.

As you finally reach your car, the engine hums to life, but your mind is already replaying the look in his eyes: a silent, undeniable assurance that although things have changed, you’re in this together. You know simply from his answers today that he has the same feelings as you do, because you realize that you're falling in love with Michael.

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