#off the record

"it started when i was 12 and i gotta tell you, it feels so amazing that 400 million people got to watch me go through puberty. what a dream. somebody on reddit actually figured out the exact moment it happened and i think we have a clip," the screen cut to a season 1 scene of stranger things of younger finn and millie, back when the idea of mike and sloane hadn't existed yet. in the middle of finn's lines, an edited voice came over him that was suddenly much deeper and much more "manly." you, gaten, and caleb all shared a laugh backstage. 

"yup. my voice changed on camera. my first kiss was on camera..and i can't actually believe i'm admitting this, but the first time i learned what a woman looks like down there was on camera as well, so we have another clip i think." you giggled. the screen cut again and it was a different scene from season 2 of mike looking longingly that suddenly cut to a demogorgon roaring and opening it's mouth flaps. 

that bit also took you, gaten, and caleb down as you silently laughed with one another. finn smirked a little at the well-received joke and then prepared himself for the big reveal you two decided to do on live tv. "yup. and look, look, look, i know a lot of people still see me as "the kid from stranger things" right? but i'm 23 now. and i'm proud to officially announce that i am..a man," the lights dimmed down and some slower jazz music began playing. gaten and caleb nudged your arm as you also nervously prepared yourself knowing you and finn were about to explode the entire room probably. 

he still had his left hand hidden in his pocket. "oh, yeah. that's right. things are..different now. for example, i have facial hair. can we zoom in on it?" the cameras zoomed and everyone was now looking at a close up of finn's very minimal facial hair. "there she is. hey. might only be one hair, but party starts when the first guest arrives."

"you're probably thinking, finn, facial hair isn't the only thing that signifies you as a man. you're right. it's not. i do, however, have this ring on my finger..i just got it, but i think with it being on my actual ring finger you'll agree with me that this means something, right?" 

finn finally revealed his left hand that he'd been hiding and the silver band that was wrapped around his ring finger lit a fire to the entire room. there were gasps. there were screams. there were whistles. there were cheers. there were applause. your entire face felt hot as you watched from the monitor and your fiancé's smug expression. the crew accounted for probably the huge reaction so finn stood there with a proud and wide smile on his lips as he got a standing ovation for revealing his engagement. 

"so, i know you all agree with me that this ring signifies me being a man, but let me ask someone else just to double confirm. you know, i always have to get confirmation and reassurance on everything. hey baby, wanna come out here?" that was your cue. you stepped onto the main stage where finn held his arm out for you and the studio went even crazier. 

almost everyone in the room was on their feet cheering the two of you on. your own ring finger shined with your engagement ring and the pretty diamond sitting in the middle of it. a soft smile spread across your lips as you also took the scene in and then you looked at finn who tightened his hold on your waist. 

the applause lasted for another minute before finally dying down so finn could continue his monologue. "so..this ring here. you think it makes me..a man? more mature?" he held his hand out to you. you nodded. "oh, yeah. i mean, i have one too," you held your hand up with his. 

"oh no way. where did you get yours?" 

"i got it from this guy..he was kind of tall. lanky. took me up to these mountains and then just..got down on one knee. i didn't even know what to say," you exclaimed which earned some more cheers at the little details you were revealing about the engagement. 

"huh. that's so interesting because i was just at the mountains over the holidays proposing to this girl..i'm getting off track. so, i'm a man. we're adults now. i think this calls for some kind of celebration right? maybe some drinks? i mean, i can drink alcohol now because i'm a man and i wanna try it. can we get some alcohol in a cup please?" 

marcello came out with three drinks for you guys. "yeah, yeah, i got you guys," marcello smiled. 

"thank you. thanks, man. i loved your stand up special by the way," finn patted his back. 

"oh, wow. me too. thanks. cheers, buddy. cheers to the new mr. and mrs." marcello nodded at you and finn as the three of you knocked your cups together to take a sip. like planned, finn immediately spit it back out into marcello's face. it was so hard to hold in your laughter, but the crowd laughed. "no, no. too spicy. we can't have that at our wedding," finn shook his head and looked at you. 

"i like that you did that to me just like that in front of all these people, i appreciate that, thank you man," marcello mumbled before walking off the stage and taking your cups with him. 

"so yeah. meet the new me. the man me. i have a fiancée now," finn looked at you, wiggling his eyebrows which got the crowd going again. "isn't she pretty?" he whispered. "stranger things is over and i'm not a kid anymore." 

caleb and gaten came onto the stage as well. "and neither are we!" caleb smiled while you and finn brought them into your embrace. the crowd erupted into more cheers seeing the four of you up there together. you smiled warmly in their direction while they also took in the big stage and impressive crowd. 

finn relaxed a bit more having you all on stage with him now as he neared the end of his monologue. "we're not child stars. we're former child stars," caleb grinned. 

"and anytime you read former child star in a headline it can only mean good things," gaten grinned too. 

"that's true. so thanks everyone for watching us grow up on the show," finn glanced at the three of you. "and then went online and commented about our changing faces and bodies!" caleb added. 

"and also went poking way too deep into our personal lives," you winked. 

"well, i just wanted to say, even though we're all adults now, being adults will never stray us too far from each other. you're both top of the list for groomsmen too," finn patted gaten and caleb's shoulders. the four of you crowded into each other for a little side hug and the audience "awwed" and the sweet moment. "let's toast to that. we have to celebrate all of these new accomplishments," gaten grinned and you were all handed another cup of drinks. 

"to the mr. and mrs," caleb raised his glance. 

"to you hosting snl." you added. 

"yes and to us, child stars who are now ready to do adult films. hey, we got a great show for you tonight! a$ap rocky is here. stick around!" finn concluded and you all toasted before taking another sip of your drinks. 

the audience cheered for all of you while you acted like the alcohol still didn't taste good. the four of you left the stage while they broke for commercial and so finn could get ready for the next segment. before he did though, he wrapped you into a tight hug while you quickly congratulated him on the great opening and the success of revealing your engagement. 

"holy shit, i can't believe we did that," he muttered. 

"guys, that was insane. the crowd loved that. i'm sure you're blowing up on twitter already," gaten exclaimed while finn quickly hugged him and caleb as well. 

"okay, i gotta go get ready, but i will see you in the skits later and then see you both on the screen for the stranger things segment," finn looked quickly kissed you before running to get changed. 

it was such a whirlwind, but a good whirlwind. you were also taken back into the dressing rooms to get yourself ready for the two other guest appearances you would be making. 

BOY'S DAY: Featuring Y/n L/n

"dude, i love boy's day, you know what i mean? just kick back. watch the game. talk about boy stuff," marcello began the skit and the crowd laughed along with his energy. you stood on the other side of the stage away waiting for your cue. 

"yeah. so uh, what's new in 2026 fellas?" jeremy rubbed his hands together and looked at across the room. 

"well, i bought some sweatpants that you can wear to weddings," ben smiled in satisfaction which earned praise from the other guys. "oh! nice dude! so you can be cozy and respectful. i like that!" marcello exclaimed and him and ben dapped each other up for that one. 

the audience was already loving it so far. "alright, guys. i know this isn't the usual vibe, but i invited my girlfriend. i hope that's cool," finn cut in. 

the other three guys went silent. they quickly looked at finn and a mixture of shock, surprise, and betrayal morphed into their expressions. "wait, huh? you have a girlfriend?" ben raised his eyebrow. the audience chuckled knowing this was a dig to you and finn announcing your long term relationship not even a year ago. 

"uh, yeah? you didn't know?" finn said in a duh tone. 

"uh, no? when the hell did you get a girlfriend?" marcello mumbled. 

they took personal offense to never hearing about this news. "i've had a girlfriend for like 6 years now," finn said. 

"what?!" the other three jumped on and that had the audience cracking up. "6 years? you're joking. what the—" you rang the doorbell on your cue. "oh! must be her now," finn smiled and jumped up to get the door. 

he opened the set door to you standing on the other side. you smiled while the crowd clapped. "oh! hey guys! guess what? boobs are here! oh! oh! put that junk away! put that junk away! i don't wanna see that! i don't wanna see that! ha, imagine!" you played into your character really well. it was described to you and rehearsed as a very tomboy with 12-year-old boy humor girlfriend. you sat down on the couch, "ah, okay. what's up. i'm michelle. aye," you held your hand out for jeremy to shake. 

finn laughed along with you. "i told you guys." you opened your one arm for him to lean into it which made the audience laugh while the rest of the guys awkwardly accepted your presence. "alright. she's got jokes.." jeremy muttered. 

"uh, yeah. well, welcome to boy's day. help yourself to some snacks if you want," marcello said unenthusiastically. 

you leaned forward excitedly, "well, well, well, what do we got here? pizza. wings. ipa's. or as i like to call it, the three food groups. skadoot," you held your fist out for a fist bump. finn bursted out into more laughter while jeremy bumped your fist. "leggo," you laughed too as you leaned back to put your arm around finn again. 

"she's so twisted!" he grinned and leaned back into you. 

"y-yeah. nice to meet you, michelle. i'm santi," ben introduced his character to you. 

"oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. i've heard about you. certified lover boy, certified pedophile. wawawawawa," you pretended to sing the song. the crowd laughed some more. you were so unused to doing characters and acting like this, but you were also loving it. 

"sorry, did you hear that i'm a pedophile?" ben made a face. 

"dude, dude. she's jackin' your chain. i'm telling you. she's like one of the guys," finn laughed while you grinned. 

"o-okay. yeah. whatever. let's just watch football. hope the texans win because i got a lot of money on this game," ben moved on and smirked. 

"oh, wow! your girl is letting you bet again. i thought she shut that down, dude," jeremy cut in. 

"uh, actually..i've been meaning to tell you guys..sarah and i recently called off our engagement," ben frowned while marcello and jeremy sat up more. "oh no, dude what happened?" marcello wondered. 

"i don't know. i guess..we just realized we wanted different things and.." you were getting up and grabbing a beer can. you walked up next to ben, "sounds like a bitch!" you stabbed the can with a pen and basically shotgunned it into your mouth even though it also went everywhere on you too. "i love beer!" you exclaimed. 

"hey, hey, maybe like don't spill it on my floor?" marcello grunted. 

"oh yes, your precious floor. of course your majesty. oh yes, yes, yes. this guy's obsessed with his floor ha, ha, ha. he marries it. he wants to have sex with it," you laughed to yourself. 

"he-he wants to have sex with his floor? what are you talking about? this was supposed to be a normal boy's day where normal things happen," ben clearly disapproved of you and finn for even bringing you here without asking first or even telling them that you existed. 

you, on the other hand, weren't listening. you went back over to finn where you shoved your shirt over his face, basically suffocating him, "guys, look! look! i'm pregnant. oh!" you pulled your shirt off finn's face. "i'm a sexy guy? what?" you continued.

"wa, wa, baby want milky," finn played into your joke.

"oh, yes baby. does baby want zack or cody?" you squeezed both of your boobs and the audience bursted into laughter. you playfully shook them around while continuing to make sound effects with your mouth while finn was just smiling in character and also at you because this was the most fun both of you had ever had while acting. he reached up to wrap his arms around you again and you quickly reciprocated. "it really is the suite life," he hummed. 

you patted his chest and the crowd laughed harder at the joke. "jesus, man. i'm gonna throw up," jeremy mumbled and looked at the two of you in disgust. 

"alright, boys. i'm feeling some thunder down under. and uh, i'm gonna go drop a stank in the tank. okay. i'll B.R.B!" you made more fun sound effects as you moved off set for a couple minutes. 

"have fun in there! imagine she falls in and it's like toilet land and becomes friends with some toilet paper. what would that even be? could you imagine?" finn rambled, glancing at jeremy and marcello. 

"chris. we've never seen you act this way in your life, man," marcello huffed. 

"i know right. she makes me so happy," finn hummed. 

"how have you been hiding a six year relationship from us? how did you guys even meet? you're telling me you've been dating her for six years?" ben exasperated. 

"that's actually a funny story. she pants me in a starbucks. um, i guess she liked what she saw and um, yeah? i think she's the one. i'm sorry i didn't tell you guys. we just thought it'd be better if we didn't say anything at first," finn explained. 

"really? cause like..man..she's a lot. i could not put up with that for six years," jeremy shook his head. 

"a lot? she's disgusting," ben laid the final blow while you reappeared into the set. 

"disgusting?" you muttered and the audience immediately and collectively "awwed" seeing you there. "uh..yeah..i'm sorry for being a lot. you know, it's hard being a woman in a room full of men. and you're being judged for everything you do and everything you say, but the truth is, is that i..really like chris. and i just wanted you guys to..to like me too. but uh..i guess you know.." you trailed off for a second and the sad music added to your emotional words. 

they didn't last for long of course, "it's a man's world and this is a man's world..imagine i start singing and it's good," you laughed and the audience cheered as the skit came to an end and the show cut to it's next commercial. 

all of you quickly waved as you ran off stage. marcello, ben, and jeremy gave you quick high-fives. "you were incredible in that. good job!" ben exclaimed and you grinned. 

"that was so fun," you breathed, hugging finn too before he had to rush off again. "you're awesome. i love you," he grinned before hurrying for his next quick change. 

DARK ORBIT

this skit was by far going to be the most fun because you and finn couldn't stop laughing during dress rehearsal earlier that day. you and the cast were dressed as people from some interdimensional space world trying to negotiate a deal. finn sat in a chair with skulls on the armrest while you stood on one side and mikey day stood on the other acting as the servant and you as the wife. 

"emperor zeeb, chancellor snooks from cram 9 requested an audience with his grace," ben began. 

"ah, chancellor. have you come to grovel at your emperor's feet?" finn questioned. "ha! you are no emperor, zeeb," chloe scoffed. 

"yet, here i sit. atop a thrown surrounded by servants. a life. a snack man and servant, sheegan,  who occasionally feeds me the delights my wife bakes." finn glanced at mikey. his white, pointy wig made the audience laugh. 

"yes. very delicious delights. i do so much for you sir and you do so much for me. it is the only way i can repay you. your wife makes truly great delights," mikey popped the sweet candy ball into his mouth. 

"and the beautiful wife, whom i love. she bakes the most delicious delights as sheegan said. she even feeds them to me," finn looked over at you, checking you out while you blushed. you leaned in closer to him, caressing his face. "oh yes, my love. i love you so. it is my honor to make you such delights. please, i have some. these are galactic moon balls. they're just so delicious. don't you agree, sheegan?" you ushered for him to pass the bowl. 

"oh, they are quite lovely," mikey agreed while you took one to feed finn. he happily ate it from your hand while the audience laughed, "yes, delicious isn't it, my love? i make them from my sweat," you hummed. 

"mm, yes. delicious indeed. you have such a talent for this, my love," finn smiled widely at you while he continued chewing the fluffy candy. he continued chewing and smacking his lips, "tell her chancellor," he said to ben and chloe. 

you stroked finn's cheek with your hand again while he tried to talk. "does it..does it pain you—" 

"you must eat another one, my love," you encouraged as you offered finn a second moon ball and cut him off from speaking. he accepted it right from your hand again, "yes. i love watching you enjoy what i make for you. the things i spend all day cooking in our beautiful kitchen you had designed just for me," you gushed. 

"and i love you," finn said with his mouth full. 

the audience was loving it so far and you noticed ben and chloe trying not to break character as they watched you feed finn the food. "i think i'm good on those for now, my love," finn said to you.

"are you sure, baby? are you sure?" you wondered, trying to give him a third, but he gently pushed your hand down. "i'm sure. i need to get back to business, baby," he said and you nodded. 

"state your business, chancellor," your attentions went back to chloe and ben. 

"i have come to persuade you to lift your blockade on my planet's trade roots. without solar seeds, our soil starves and soon, so will my people," chloe spoke firmly. 

"ironic, isn't it? your people waste away while my gullet is stuffed with my wife’s delights," finn grinned and you reappeared with a new food. you smiled wide, "yes, my love. indulge, please. i make these only for you. indulge on this split jelly sphere from dark. big bites, my love," you encouraged as you fed finn the new snack. you weren't even sure what the food was, but it was messy as the green stuff got all over finn's mouth. 

he gently pushed you away, but you just went right back in. "there's more, baby. i want you to enjoy it all. big bites!" you exclaimed while finn took another bite while you sort of forcefully fed him. he ate more of the green jelly stuff, "big bites of the skin too! that's the best part," you hummed and you bit your lip to keep from laughing while finn took a 3rd bite of the skin of the sphere. he held your wrist as the jelly fell into his lap and smeared across his mouth. 

he smiled, the urge to laugh hitting you both. "are you..you don't want more?" you tried getting him to take a fourth bite, but finn pushed you away for good this time. he swallowed the food you made him eat while chloe was laughing and breaking character at the scene unfolding. "that is..very heavy," finn mumbled, the jelly still on his lip.

"they are double buttered," you said and finn gently pushed you away again. "yes, yes, but let's maybe put a pin in those for now," he looked at you.

you frowned. "you do not like?" 

"no, no, i do like. i do. i just...maybe we need something else?" he offered and your eyes lit up. "oh! well, yes. of course.  of course i have something else for you, my love," you grinned and finn leaned forward to kiss your cheek. he smiled in satisfaction while you acted surprised before going to find a new delight. 

"my terms? simple. i will end the blockade if your planet becomes a colony of my empire," finn leaned back in the chair, smirking. 

"my planet will never colonize, zeeb. we are a free people," chloe exclaimed.

"not. for. long." finn leaned forward, but mikey came in with a large cup of something and pointed the straw into finn's mouth. "star milk, sir. from the mrs. she hopes you like it," mikey grinned. 

finn took a sip, but he immediately spit it out into his lap. everyone was struggling to not break character. "oh! no! she'll be so disappointed!" mikey exclaimed. 

"i don't love that, sheegan. please tell her i do not love that one," your fiancé shook his head. "my apologies, sir. i will let her know. she will be hurt to hear that. she may kill herself hearing that!" 

"no! no! please, tell her. i love the delights. i love them. just not that delight," finn assured. 

"yes, sire. he hates that delight! take that delight out of the rotation!" mikey yelled. the audience cracked up at the energy and finn struggled to not break character as he lightly chuckled. 

"i have authority from the senate to negotiate. we offer a quarter share for our exports," chloe continued. 

finn laughed out loud though. "you all hear that?" he looked between you and mikey and the both of you laughed as well. "eat all of this," you brought out a new delight which was this enormous creature's leg. 

"no, no, love. what is that?" finn looked at you. 

"this is the hind leg of a crag-snouter, love. you love these," you said. 

"love, look at how big that thing is. i can't eat this all now. i know i love them, but..this is just too big," he told you. you frowned again. "oh no. i have disappointed you and done you wrong." 

"no, no, no. you have not disappointed me. i promise. i love all of this. really, i do," finn quickly grabbed your arm so your face was merely inches away from his. he caressed your face and then instantly drew your lips to his. you heard the audience erupt into more cheers seeing you and finn share a quite passionate and aggressive kiss for your characters. 

the rest of the cast looked blankly at the two of you as your kissing moment dragging on that awkward beat too long before you finally broke away. finn smiled up at you while you blushed under his stare. some of the audience whistled. 

"ahem," ben brought your attentions back. "holder share. that is all we're willing to see," chloe said. 

"i do not barter. agree to my terms or i declare you an enemy of the empire and begin sulfur strikes at once," finn said firmly. 

"you wouldn't dare!" chloe yelled. 

"i would and i will. a toxic rain will fall over you—"

you came back again, but this time behind the chair and you had a disguised bottle of chocolate syrup in your hand. "time for some booboo fruit, love!" you exclaimed and quickly squirted the chocolate syrup into finn's mouth. 

you basically missed his mouth though and instead got it all over his lower lip and nose. it basically went everywhere on finn and your hand. "open you tongue, love! you'll miss the honey nut taste!" you urged. 

"please! oh i love feeding you, baby," you poured more syrup onto finn and he eventually got you stop. this was the part that had cracked both of you up in dress rehearsal. "okay, stop. stop. stop!" he exclaimed and you did. 

"but the good part!" you huffed. 

finn gently pushed you back with his hands up. "too much. too much..what is that?" he looked down at the bottle. 

"it's melted booboo fruit," you said. 

"too much melted booboo fruit. just a little too much," finn shook his head. 

"but i have forty-nine more flavors awaiting you, baby. i got this especially for you," you said worriedly. "absolutely not. we're suspending the delights, okay? i love my delights, you know i love them because i love you. i'm very pro delight and your creations. we're just..pushing pause for right now." 

you stared at finn, the chocolate running all down his chin. "but how will i show that i love you if i can't make you delights anymore?" 

"i think i can think of a few ways you can show your love to me, baby. do not worry," finn's lines made the audience whistle some more and "ooh." you broke a tiny smile. "well..how? i do not know anything more than..making delights," you said. 

"come here," finn motioned your forward. you leaned in again and he captured your lips in another kiss, chocolate and all. 

the crowd erupted. you got chocolate on your own lips and in your mouth as you kissed finn. when you pulled a part again, you shared the chocolate syrup look. "see? there are so many ways to show your love for me and i will always love you no matter if there are delights or not." 

you finally understood. "yes, i get it now, love. we are pausing. we are holding the delights!" you exclaimed. 

"i ask you one last time, chancellor. will you colonize?" finn looked back at chloe and ben who were smiling. 

"i would rather eat that disgusting beast leg," chloe said and mikey quickly appeared in front of them with the giant leg. 

"yes. indulge in these meated nooks and crannies," mikey grinned. 

"dude! get that out of my face," chloe put her hands up to push mikey back. 

"i'll eat it," ben shrugged casually. 

the skit ended there and the audience quickly got to their feet to cheer you all on. you all did a small bow for them before running off stage to get cleaned up after all the mess. finn was grinning from ear to ear while you finally let all of your laughter out and the other cast members giving you a round of applause who were watching backstage. 

"holy shit!" gaten exclaimed when he caught up with you and finn. 

"dude. you're insane for that," caleb also laughed. 

"first snl appearance in the books!" you exclaimed and high-fived them. 

"hey, i'll see you guys for the closing! i love you," finn said to you, smiling and waving as he ran off to the dressing room to get cleaned up and changed. agreeing to do something like you just did was probably the most insane thing you'd ever done, but also it was the most thrilling thing and you'd do it over a hundred times if you could. 

someone ushered you back to get cleaned up as well and you waved to gaten and caleb for now. 

—

at the end of the broadcast, you and all of the cast joined finn back on stage as he closed the show out. he wrapped his arm around you, smiling. "i wanna say thank you to all of you for joining me on stage tonight. i am officially a man," he looked down at you and you blushed. "i even hope this gets a parody. thank you to my beautiful y/n, gaten matarazzo, caleb mclaughlin, asap rocky, and sabrina carpenter! this week has been one of the craziest, but best weeks of my life, so thank you. have a good night!" finn concluded. 

the audience stood up again, clapping and whistling and you all moved along to the upbeat jazz music. you, finn, gaten, and caleb all hugged one another and celebrated the success of finn's debut snl hosting and the success of the show tonight. 

you made your rounds to the rest of the cast as well that congratulated you for your performances. 

you danced on stage for a bit more before following everyone back through the doors to backstage. you all cheered for each other and finn swept you back into his arms, spinning you around slightly and kissing your head as he chased the high of finishing the show. "holy shit, that was incredible," he gushed. 

"you did so good," you praised. 

"you did so good too. holy shit. they better invite you back as a host too," your fiancé gushed, squeezing you tight. gaten and caleb quickly joined your hug and you stepped back to them them properly hug the taller boy again. 

"we gotta celebrate now!" gaten exclaimed. 

"drinks! we need to get drinks," caleb agreed. 

you just looked at finn with a lot of adoration for him as he went to hug some of the other cast he didn't get to when you were on stage. they praised him for his work and the things he put into tonight. his smile had never been bigger and even you were getting a ton of congrats for your engagement and urges to see the ring. 

twitter, instagram, & tiktok comments + reactions 

user1 HOLY SHITTT wow i have no words i need a second to think about all of this

user2 genuinely we were just spoon fed everything we've been wanting and waiting for that i don't even know WHERE to start. the engagement? the skits? the banter? THE FLIRTING? oh my gawdddd

user3 THEY'RE ENGAGED?! AND THEY ANNOUNCED IT ON LIVE TV OH THAT'S SO ICONIC

user4 ENGAGED IN THE MOUNTAINS?! that's actually my dream and that ring is gorgeous WOW he did such a good job i love

user5 seeing finn visibly relax even more when y/n, gaten, and caleb were on stage with him was so adorable he loves them so so much

user6 THE DIG AT ST ENDING LMAOOOO PLEASE I CAN'T I CAN'T they know what we want 🙏

user7 WDYM THEY'RE ENGAGED NOW?! OH MY GOD WOW 

user8 oh that was such a good reveal holy shit i yearn for that i didn't even suspect ANYTHING even when he came out with his hand in his pocket because that's just what guys do sometimes. when he popped that ring i audibly gasped and then screamed

user9 LMAO i love the jokes about their 6 year long secret private relationship 

user10 damn i need y/n to play more characters like this she did such a good job wow

user11 yeah so finn is EXACTLY where he wants to be i did not miss those smug smiles and smirks he had on his lips 

user12 THE SUITE LIFE JOKE AND HE IS JUST SMILING SO HAPPILY i know they were in character but this kind of stuff for them is so hilarious i need more 🙏

user13 the entire dark orbit bit..i don't even know where to begin with that finn was truly having the time of his life in that 

user14 oh he loveddd y/n feeding him food wow that was so good

user15 they kissed TWICE wow i actually love them so much

user16 soo when it is y/n's turn?? and when is the wedding? are invited? do we get engagement pics? i need more scenes of y/n and finn playing these kinds of characters together.. 

user17 this just made my night wow

user18 HUGE day for people to be y/n and finn fans bc wdym they're engaged and they used snl to announce it and then make jokes about their private relationship 😭

user19 i feel like y/n and finn were not acting for that space emperor skit LMAO

The Pitt was not for the weak. Not many med students, or even residents, survived this place. It was chaos in its purest form. One second you’d be dealing with a simple case of allergies, and the next you were stuck three hours past your shift because of a mass casualty.

Nothing was ever predictable here, and that was one of the many reasons you loved it.

Sure, you were constantly exhausted and had little to no social life outside of your coworkers. And maybe finding the balance between work and academic demands would be what finally killed off whatever you had left of your sanity. But you couldn’t see yourself working anywhere else.

The last thing you needed to add to your growing list of challenges was having a crush on the night shift attending.

You tried to suppress it from the second you laid eyes on Dr. Jack Abbot. He was your boss, and feeling anything other than professional admiration toward him was way out of line. But he had these intense, engulfing eyes, a smirk that could have anyone on their knees in an instant, and a way of capturing everyone’s attention that had you clinging to every word that came out of his mouth.

Once you got used to seeing him for twelve hours straight during your shifts, it became a little easier to pretend your heart didn’t race every time he was near. You learned how to laser-focus on the cases in front of you, how to compartmentalize, how to save the yearning and pining for when you were finally off the clock.

Today, though, something else had you distracted.

The shift had been busy, way busier than the night shift was used to. You’d already had two codes, and even though you managed to stabilize both patients, the adrenaline crash left your mind and body completely wiped. Somewhere in between, you’d also dealt with a kid whose parents were beyond overprotective, asking a million questions about every single step it took to figure out he’d broken his wrist after falling from his skateboard.

The end of this shift couldn’t come soon enough.

The moment you got a free second, you dropped into a chair near the nurse’s station and tried to catch up on charting. Labs needed to be attached to files. Notes needed to be written and signed off. Orders needed to be updated. It was, without question, the most boring and grueling part of the job. 

You’d just started finding your rhythm with the mind-numbing task when your phone dinged in your pocket. You fished it out of your scrubs and glanced at the screen. It was an email notification. 

You didn’t even need to open it. One look at the subject line and the sender was enough to make your heart drop straight into your stomach.

“Fuck,” you whisper under your breath as you stare down at your phone. You slump deeper into the old, uncomfortable office chair, almost like you wish it could swallow you whole so you don’t have to deal with any of this.

“Everything alright?”

A familiar voice pulls you out of the spiral you’d started falling into. You look up from your screen and see Dr. Abbot leaning against the counter, arms crossed over it. His hair is a little messy, unruly from the midnight rush the night shift had just crawled out of.

You struggle to focus on his question, trying to hide your complete awe at how he somehow still looks good after five hours in the ER. “Yeah, it’s nothing. Sorry. I’ll get right back to charting.”

He squints at you, very clearly not buying it. “Are you sure? You can take five if you want. Things have quieted down a little.”

“No, it’s…” you start, but then you catch the look on his face, an expression that clearly reads cut the bullshit.

You exhale. “It’s my lease. My landlord’s cutting it short. Apparently he just got this huge inheritance he’s been waiting on and he’s moving to California. Someone made an offer to buy the building a while ago and I guess he finally accepted it. They’re tearing the whole place down and turning it into some kind of retail center.”

Abbot lets out a low whistle, dropping his head for a second. “That’s rough, kid. I’m sorry.” He pauses. “You got any other apartments lined up? Anywhere you can apply?”

“No, not really.” You shake your head, still trying to process it. “I had, like, ten months left on my lease. I didn’t even think about this. Not with the whole… you know. Third year of residency and all.” You glance down at your phone again. “I just got the email. I think I’m still in shock.”

You’re rambling, a little, but he has that effect on people. He makes you feel comfortable enough to let things spill out. Or maybe it’s just you and the crush you’ve been repressing for way too long.

“Alright,” he says, voice softer now, like he can hear the way your thoughts are starting to race. “Hey. Take a beat.” He holds your gaze. “Like I said, things have slowed down. Why don’t you go eat something? Grab some coffee, take a lap, whatever. Then you can do your rounds and check on your patients with a clearer head.”

“I’m really okay, Dr. Abbot,” you insist, even though you don’t sound convincing. “I have a lot of charting to catch up on—”

He cuts you off again.

“What if I take my break with you?” he says, tone calm, but there’s something in it, almost like he's pleading with you. “C’mon. Let’s go get some air outside and eat something. I’ve been starving for, like, three hours.”

You can never say no to this man. Not when he talks to you like that, as if there’s something more intimate, more personal, in the space between the words.

You give in.

“Alright,” you mutter, pushing back your chair. “Let me go grab my zip-up.”

A few minutes later, you’re walking out of the ER with him, heading toward the park bench right in front of the hospital. The night air is cool and a little windy, the kind that bites just enough to wake you up. You’ve always liked weather like this way better than the humid summer shifts where you spend twelve hours feeling sticky and gross with no chance to freshen up.

You both sit on the bench, a comfortable amount of space between each other. Abbot’s holding a brown paper bag and a coffee cup that says Best Dad Award, even though he doesn’t have kids. He must’ve grabbed it from the shared cabinet in the break room. You can’t help but snort softly.

He notices immediately. “What?”

You nod toward the cup. “Best Dad Award?”

He glances down at it like he forgot what he was holding, then shrugs. “It was the cleanest one.”

“Sure,” you say, amused. 

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile as he opens the bag. “So,” he starts, “how’s this shift treated you? Too chaotic?”

“Not really,” you answer honestly. “I mean, aside from the part where I was just informed I might be homeless in a few weeks. But you know…at least no one has died yet.”

His expression sharpens instantly. “Don’t they have to give you at least a month’s notice?”

“Supposedly, yeah,” you say, already tired just thinking about it. “But there’s a clause in the contract. Something about if the lease needs to be cut short, they have to pay financial compensation. And if the move-out is urgent, the compensation increases by twenty percent.” You let out a humorless laugh. “I was calculating what they’d pay me and it’s literally pennies on the dollar.”

Abbot huffs, jaw tight. “That’s bullshit.”

You sigh and lean back, staring up at the dark blue sky. There are only a couple stars visible, dulled by the city lights.

“Yeah tell me about it,” you mutter. “It sucks even more because I had a hard enough time finding this apartment in the first place. This is not even a very residential area, but med students have inflated the shit out of the rent prices. Landlords ask for an insane amount of requirements and finding a decent roommate is almost as hard as winning the lottery.”

His brows furrow like he’s actually trying to problem-solve with you. “Don’t you have any friends you can crash with until you figure something out?”

“Not really,” you admit. “All my friends are in one-bedrooms with their partners or already have like three roommates.”

His expression softens, and his voice follows. “I’m sorry, kid. That’s a lot to handle on your own.”

“It’s okay,” you say quickly, then glance at him with a guilty look. “Sorry for dumping all of this on you. I’m sure you have a lot more to deal with than the struggles of an R3.”

He straightens, turning more toward you so he’s fully facing you now. “Don’t apologize. If venting helps you feel less overwhelmed and gets you through this shift, I don’t mind.”

You swallow, suddenly aware of how close he is. “Thank you,” you say quietly. “I really appreciate it.”

He holds your gaze for a few seconds too long. He looks at you in that intense, unreadable way he does when he’s thinking about ten things at once.

Then something shifts in his expression, you can see that a thought lands.

“I have a spare bedroom,” he blurts.

You blink. “What?”

He clears his throat, like he can’t believe he said it out loud either. “I have a spare bedroom. You could crash at my place for a bit.”

For a second, you just stare at him, completely speechless.

Because your attending—the same man you spent months trying not to blush around every time he praised your work—is offering you his spare bedroom like it’s nothing.

When your brain finally catches up enough to function, you shake your head. “That’s really kind, Dr. Abbot, but I can’t. That’s too much—”

“It’s not too much,” he cuts in immediately. “It’s a room.” He says it like he’s stating a simple fact, like he isn’t massively underselling the situation. “You need a place to stay. And we’re both here all the time anyway.”

You hesitate, staring at him like the words might rearrange themselves into something more reasonable if you look hard enough.

“I’m sure I can find someone online who’ll let me crash for a bit,” you try again, even though you already hate how flimsy that sounds. “I really don’t want to bother you.”

His expression darkens, and his voice drops into that tone he uses when he needs to fully go into senior attending mode.

“You’re not bothering me. It was my idea, and you’re out of your damn mind if you think I’m letting you move in with some stranger from the internet. Even for a day.”

That shuts you up.

You sit there, chewing on the inside of your cheek, staring down at your hands. You should say no. You know you should. It’s the reasonable thing to do, the safe and professional thing. You also know he would drop it if he knew you were serious about rejecting his offer. But you can feel the hesitation on your face and you’re sure he sees it too, the panic you’ve been trying to swallow down all night.

You let out a long breath and finally mutter, “HR isn’t gonna like this.”

He chuckles, and it’s low and warm and unfairly attractive. “HR doesn’t have to know.” He takes a sip of his ridiculous Best Dad Award coffee. “It can be our secret.”

Your stomach flips.

“And besides,” he adds, voice calmer now, “it’s temporary, right? Just until you find another place and get back on your feet.”

“Right,” you say, even though you’re pretty sure you’re agreeing to the hardest possible trial. “Yeah. Temporary.”

You glance at him again, resigned. “Okay. I’ll take you up on your offer. But I promise it’s super temporary. I’ll get out of your hair as soon as I can, Dr. Abbot.”

“Jack,” he says abruptly.

You blink. “Huh?”

He looks at you like it should be obvious. “It’s Jack. If we’re going to be living together, I think we can move to a first-name basis.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks immediately. You pray to every god you don’t believe in that the wind can pass it off as cold.

“Jack,” you repeat, testing it out, trying to get used to the way his name feels on your tongue.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first recording session with Michael is scheduled for the following afternoon.

You spend the night before sitting cross-legged on your bedroom floor, surrounded by notebooks that you barely end up using. Normally, you research every guest extensively, filling pages with timelines about their careers and possible talking points for the episode.

But for Michael, you close the notebook you have in front of you.

You know that the entire reason he wants to come onto Off the Record is because he's tired of conversations that already know where they're going. So instead, you write only three things on an index card to bring with you (along with your recording equipment).

Who are you when no one's watching?

What makes you feel safe?

What do you hope people remember?

Suddenly, your landline phone rings. You put the index card down on your bed and walk over to your nightstand to pick up the receiver. “Hello?” You say.

“Hi, Y/N? It's Michael.” Michael's voice echoes through the line.

“Michael? How did you get my number?” You ask with surprise lacing your voice as you sit down on your bed.

“I asked Frank to give it to me...I wanted to hear your voice before tomorrow.” He replies, and you can tell that he sounds nervous on the other end.

You blush at his words. “What, you can't get enough of me?” You tease him, and laugh when you hear him sigh.

“Haha, very funny. I just wanted to triple check that we're still good to go for tomorrow?” He asks shyly.

You smile. “Yes, of course.”

“Okay great...I also wanted to ask you if there's anything you'll need from me for tomorrow?”

Your smile widens and your heart warms at his kindness. “Well...I do love coffee, especially vanilla lattes with whipped cream and caramel syrup on top from Studio 28 Café. It's my go-to drink whenever I do an episode for my podcast. I'm sure I can grab one quickly though before Bill picks me up.”

Michael is quiet for a second, and you can almost hear him smiling through the receiver.

“Vanilla latte,” he repeats softly, as if committing it to memory. “Whipped cream...caramel syrup.”

“You don't have to memorize my coffee order!” you laugh.

“I wasn't.”

“You absolutely were.”

"Maybe a little."

The grin on your face grows wider. “But seriously,” you continue, “all I really need is you. Just be yourself.”

“I can do that,” he says, though the uncertainty in his voice makes it sound like a promise he's still learning how to keep.

“Good.”

“I've done thousands of interviews,” he says after a moment. "Magazine articles, television specials, radio interviews and people always have a version of me they want.”

“And I don't.”

“I know.” His voice softens. “That's why this one scares me.”

You lean back against your headboard, twisting the phone cord around your finger. “Being scared isn't always a bad thing.”

“No?"

“No. Sometimes it just means something matters.”

Silence settles comfortably between the both of you and it's a strange feeling. You've only known Michael for a couple of days, but talking to him doesn't feel like talking to the biggest entertainer in the world. It feels like talking to someone sitting beside you in the dark, sharing thoughts you'd never say with the lights on.

“So...” he says eventually. “You're really not going to tell me what you're planning to ask?”

“Nope.”

“Not even one question?"

“You'll find out tomorrow.”

He groans dramatically. "Y/N..."

"Michael."

"Please?"

"No."

"What if I sing for you?"

You laugh so hard you have to pull the receiver away from your ear. "Is that bribery???"

"It's negotiation."

"Nah, that's definitely bribery."

"Well I've been told I'm persuasive."

"You've probably also been told you're charming."

"I have."

"Don't let it go to your head and inflate your ego."

"Too late."

The two of you dissolve into laughter. When it dies down, Michael clears his throat. "I meant what I said earlier."

"About what?"

"Wanting to hear your voice."

Your heartbeat stumbles.

"It's been..." He searches for the words. "A long time since I looked forward to talking to someone who wasn't expecting something from me."

His honesty catches you off guard.

"I don't expect anything from you, Michael."

"I know."

"And tomorrow isn't about getting headlines."

"I know that, too."

"It's just a conversation."

He exhales slowly. "I think I forgot conversations could just be conversations."

You glance at the index card resting on your bed.

Who are you when no one's watching?

What makes you feel safe?

What do you hope people remember?

While talking to Michael, you're not thinking about asking those questions: instead, you're wondering what the answers will be from questions that come up as the conversation naturally flows.

"So," Michael says, his voice lighter again, "what time should I expect you?"

"Bill's picking me up around one and we should be at Neverland by two-ish."

"I'll be ready."

"I know you will."

"And Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you said yes to do the podcast."

Your chest tightens. "I'm glad you asked me."

Another silence stretches, and neither of you seem eager to hang up. Finally, Michael laughs quietly to himself. "We're doing that thing."

"What thing?"

"The awkward part where neither person wants to end the phone call."

You smile to yourself. "Yeah, you're right."

"You hang up first."

"No, you."

"I'm the guest."

"And I'm the host."

"I think hosts have to hang up first."

"I don't think that's a real rule."

"It is now."

You shake your head, laughing. "Goodnight, Michael."

"Goodnight, and don't buy your coffee tomorrow."

You frown. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Michael..."

"You'll see."

Before you can question him any further, the line clicks. "He hung up on me," you mutter, staring at the receiver. You slowly place it back in its cradle, unable to stop smiling as you head to bed.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next afternoon, Bill pulls up to your apartment building right on time.

"You ready?" he asks as you climb into the backseat, placing your recorder and microphone case in the seat beside you.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

The drive to Neverland passes in a blur of rolling hills and nervous anticipation. However, you're not terrified, you're excited. You've never been this excited to do a podcast episode before: but with Michael, you feel comfortable. You can't wait to get to know Michael Jackson outside of what you already know, and you're ecstatic for your listeners to get to know him too.

When the gates finally come into view, they still take your breath away. Bill whistles. "I don't think I'll ever get used to this place."

"Me either, Bill, me either."

When Bill parks the car, you step out and as you make your way toward the main entrance, you rehearse your opening in your head.

Relax. Listen. And let the conversation go wherever it wants.

The front door opens before you even have a chance to knock.

Michael stands there in dark jeans, a loose white button-down with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, and a warm smile that immediately dissolves the tension in your shoulders.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi."

His eyes flick down to your hands. "You're missing something."

You blink, a bit confused. "What?"

Without saying a word, he steps aside and you notice that sitting on the entry table is a cardboard drink carrier with two drinks: one that you presume to be tea and the other a coffee topped with a generous swirl of whipped cream and caramel drizzle.

Your vanilla latte from Studio 28 Café. Exactly the way you order it.

You stare at it before looking back up at him. "You actually drove all the way to Studio 28?"

Michael suddenly looks bashful, a blush forming on his cheeks. "You said it was your favourite."

"You remembered every detail." You say, stunned that he actually took the time to get it for you.

He shrugs, trying (and failing) to act casual. "I told you, I wasn't memorizing it."

You raise an eyebrow. "Liar."

A sheepish smile spreads across his face. "Okay, maybe I was."

You shake your head, unable to hide your smile as you enter and pick up the cup. "It's still warm."

"I had someone pick it up about twenty minutes before you got here," Michael admits. "I wanted it to be fresh."

"You planned this?"

He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly fascinated by the floor. "Maybe."

"Michael."

"What?"

"That's incredibly sweet."

His cheeks tint pink. "I just wanted you to have one less thing to think about today."

You hadn't expected such a thoughtful gesture over something as small as a coffee order. But it tells you more about Michael than any magazine headline ever could. He paid attention: not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

Bill clears his throat from behind you. "I don't mean to interrupt this adorable moment," he says with a grin, "but I've got equipment to unload."

Both you and Michael immediately look away, embarrassed.

"Right," you mumble.

Michael laughs quietly. "I'll help."

A few minutes later, the three of you have transformed one of Neverland's cozy sitting rooms into a makeshift recording studio. A cream-coloured sofa sits opposite two matching armchairs as sunlight spills through the tall windows overlooking the gardens, where you can just make out the tops of the carousel and Ferris wheel in the distance.

You set your recorder on the coffee table and carefully attach microphones to their stands.

Michael kneels beside one of the microphone cables. "Does this go here?"

You glance over. "No, but thank you."

"I tried."

"You did, I appreciate it."

Bill smirks. "I've never seen him take directions this well."

Michael playfully glares at him. "I can hear you."

"I know."

The easy teasing fills the room. It's different from the tense atmosphere you'd expected surrounding someone as famous as Michael Jackson. There's no assistants rushing around and no publicists hovering nearby. However, as if on cue, Frank pokes his head into the room. "Do either of you need anything before I disappear?"

"We're good," Michael says.

Frank looks between the two of you, noticing the matching cups in your hands, and grins knowingly. "I'll leave you to it."

"Frank," Michael warns.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Chuckling to himself, Frank disappears down the hallway. The room grows quiet again as you finish connecting everything. You finish checking your levels and slip on your headphones. "Okay," you say. "Would you mind saying something for me?"

Michael sits across from you and leans toward the microphone. "Something."

You roll your eyes. "Real mature."

"You didn't specify."

You adjust one of the dials. "Fine. Count to ten."

Michael obediently begins. "One... two... three..."

His speaking voice is softer through the headphones than you'd expected. It's warm and gentle, and it makes you blush.

"...eight... nine... ten."

You make a few adjustments. "Perfect."

He watches you curiously.

"What?" You ask, tilting your head slightly.

"You look different."

Your hands pause over the recorder. "Different how?"

"When you're working."

You blink.

"I don't know." He tilts his head thoughtfully. "You're...quieter."

"I usually am."

"No." He smiles. "You're confident."

The observation catches you off guard. "I've never really thought about it."

"I have."

You meet his eyes across from you, and you see how sincere he is as he continues to speak. "The second you started setting everything up," he says, "it was like you weren't nervous anymore."

He isn't wrong. The butterflies from the excitement that had followed you all morning had vanished the moment you'd started plugging in cables and checking sound levels. Behind the microphone, everything made sense.

"I guess this is my safe place," you admit.

"The microphone?"

You nod.

"It gives people permission."

"Permission?"

"To slow down."

You glance around the room. "When people know they're being interviewed for television, they perform."

Michael nods almost instinctively.

"But when it's just voices, people listen differently. They imagine instead of judge."

His expression grows thoughtful. "That's beautiful."

"It's why I started the podcast." You take one last sip of your latte, set the empty cup on the table beside your recorder, and glance down at the small index card you'd brought with you.

Three questions.

Michael notices it. "Is that your whole interview?"

You smile. "It was."

"Was?"

You look back up at him. "I'm not so sure anymore."

His eyebrows lift. "Why not?"

"Because after talking to you the past couple of days..."

You switch on the recorder, and the small red light flickers to life between you.

"...I think I'd rather find out where the conversation wants to go."

The recorder hums quietly, its reels beginning to turn.

You let the silence exist for a few seconds. It's something you've learned over the past two years since starting your podcast: the most honest conversations often begin in the spaces where no one rushes to fill the quiet.

"Welcome back to Off the Record." Your voice naturally settles into the calm tone millions of listeners have come to know.

"I'm here today with someone who probably needs absolutely no introduction."

Michael chuckles across from you.

"But, introductions usually tell us what someone has accomplished. So please join me in welcoming Michael Jackson."

Michael glances at the microphone, then back at you with a smile. "It's an honour to be here, I'm a big fan of your podcast."

You smile back at him. "The honour is all mine. I do have one rule though before we start."

"I'm listening."

"If there's a question you don't want to answer, just say so."

He looks at you with surprise. "That's it?"

"That's it."

"No follow-up or trying to convince me?"

You shake your head. "If you tell me something is off-limits, it stays off-limits."

He studies your face for a long moment, as if searching for the catch.

"There isn't any catch," you say, reading his expression.

His shoulders visibly relax. "Thank you."

You nod once before leaning toward your microphone. "Whenever you're ready."

Michael inhales slowly, and nods at you, ready for the first question. You glance at the recorder, then back to him. "Michael?"

"Yeah?"

"Who are you when no one's watching?"

Michael lets out a quiet laugh that doesn't quite become a smile.

"That's a hell of a first question."

"It is, that's why I wanted to ask you."

He looks past you instead of at you, eyes settling on the window where both of your reflections hover faintly over the glass.

"When no one's watching..." he repeats. "I don't know if anybody's ever asked me that."

"They are now." You say with a smile.

He rubs his thumb against the seam of his cup, buying himself another second. "I think..." He exhales. "I think I'm tired."

You wait.

"Not physically. Well, physically too. But I mean..." He searches for the words carefully, like they're hidden somewhere beneath years of rehearsed answers. "People know versions of me. The one that's useful. The one that's dependable. The one that's funny enough to keep things light. The one that's got everything under control."

"And when no one's watching?"

"None of those guys stick around." His eyes finally meet yours.

"It's just me. Quiet. Usually making tea I forget to drink. Reading the same page three times because my brain wandered somewhere else. Wondering if I made the right choices. Wondering if the people I love actually know me, or if they just know the version that's easiest to love."

You pause before answering. "That sounds lonely."

"It can be."

"You said 'versions.' Is the real one different?"

Michael considers the question longer this time. "I don't think the real one's different." He shakes his head. "I think he's smaller."

"Smaller?"

"Less impressive." A faint smile flickers across his face. "He talks to himself. He apologizes to furniture after bumping into it. He cries at documentaries about old dogs. He worries he'll disappoint people. He gets scared."

"You make that sound like a flaw."

"I spent a long time thinking it was."

"And now?"

"Now..." He leans back in his chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment. "Now I think that's probably the only version that's actually mine."

You glance down at your notes but don't write anything. "So, who are you when no one's watching?"

Michael looks at the recorder, then back at you. "I'm someone who's still trying to figure out if being enough is something you become, or something you finally stop arguing against." He smiles, small but genuine.

You nod and reach for your coffee out of habit before remembering you'd already finished it.

Michael notices. "You drank it."

"I did."

"Was it right?"

You laugh softly. "You seriously want a review in the middle of the interview?"

"I worked very hard arranging that coffee."

"It was perfect."

He beams. "I knew extra caramel was the right choice."

"You added extra caramel?"

"You seem like someone who deserves extra caramel."

You shake your head, smiling. "I don't even know how to respond to that."

"You don't have to." Michael says with a smile.

The tension dissolves for a moment. It's subtle, but you notice how naturally he moves between seriousness and playfulness: as though humor is the bridge he uses to return from difficult places.

You make a mental note of it for yourself.

"Can I ask you something?" he says suddenly.

"You just did."

He points at you. "See? That's exactly what I mean when I keep telling you I wanted to meet you."

You laugh. "Go ahead."

He shifts in his chair. "Why radio?"

You blink. "What do you mean?"

"You're good at this." He gestures around the room. "You could have your own television show."

"I've been offered."

"And?"

"I turned it down."

"Why?"

You think for a moment. "I like that people can't see us. They have to listen and not judge."

His expression softens.

"Exactly."

You nod. "I think voices tell the truth before faces do."

Michael sits with that thought for a moment. Then, almost absentmindedly, he says, "I wish more people believed that."

You glance at the recorder. It isn't even twenty minutes into the interview, but you've already forgotten about your three questions. You let another quiet moment settle before speaking again.

"Can I ask you something a little personal?"

Michael smiles. "I thought that was the whole point."

"It is."

He nods once. "Go ahead."

You glance down at your index card, your thumb brushing over the second question.

"What makes you feel safe?"

His smile fades, but not because he's upset: rather, you can tell he's taking the question seriously. He doesn't answer immediately. Outside, you can hear faint laughter from somewhere on the grounds.

Michael listens to it before he speaks. "Children."

The answer comes so quietly you almost miss it.

"They've always made me feel safe. They don't ask for explanations." He folds his hands together. "They don't care who I am or how many records I've sold or what the newspapers are saying about me. If they like you, they just like you." He shrugs, a small smile returning to his face. “They'll ask you the most random things, for example: they ask me why do I wear hats all the time."

"You do wear a lot of hats." You say with a laugh.

"I know." He says, laughing along with you.

"They're not wrong."

"They're very observant and very honest." His grin widens.

"Exactly."

The lightheartedness lingers for a beat before he grows thoughtful again. "When I was little," he says, "I used to think adults had everything figured out."

"And now?" You say.

He lets out a quiet laugh. "I think most adults are just children who've gotten better at pretending."

You nod slowly. "I've met a few of those."

"So have I."

You notice how relaxed he looks now compared to when you'd first turned on the recorder. His shoulders aren't as tense and one of his ankles is resting casually over the opposite knee.

It reminds you why you started Off the Record in the first place. You wanted to make people forget they were being interviewed at all.

"You built Neverland because of that, didn't you?" you ask gently.

His eyes drift toward the window. "I built it because I wanted a place where I didn't have to grow up all the time." He smiles wistfully. "When I was a kid, work came first. Rehearsals. Recording. Touring. I don't regret it though, I love making music."

"But?"

"But I missed things."

He doesn't elaborate, but he doesn't have to.

"So I suppose..." He glances out toward the amusement rides again. "I suppose this place is my way of keeping a promise to the little boy who never really got to be one."

It's the kind of answer you know that your listeners will remember long after the episode ends, because it's heartbreakingly simple and true to what he had to endure all these years.

You decide not to chase the answer with another difficult question. Instead, you smile. "Okay."

He looks back at you, surprised. "Okay?"

"Yeah."

"Aren't you going to ask me what I missed?"

"If you wanted to tell me, you would have."

He studies you for a second before letting out a soft chuckle. "You really mean it."

"What?"

"You don't force people."

"I don't think honesty responds well to being cornered."

He smiles at you. "That's exactly why I wanted to do this."

You feel warmth creep into your cheeks. "Well...I'm glad you did."

"So am I."

Michael suddenly leans forward with a mischievous glint in his eye. "My turn."

You look at him, confused. "Your turn?"

"You've been asking all the questions."

"That's usually how interviews work."

"Not this one." He folds his arms with mock seriousness. "I'd like equal opportunity."

You laugh. "Fine."

He pretends to think very hard. "Hmm..."

"Oh no."

"What?"

"That face means you're about to ask something impossible."

"I've got it." He smiles triumphantly. "What makes you feel safe?"

Your mouth opens. "You stole my question!"

"I borrowed it."

"You absolutely stole it."

He grins, clearly pleased with himself. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

You narrow your eyes. "Using my own rule against me?"

"I'm learning from the best."

You shake your head, laughing under your breath. "You clearly are."

The smile lingers as you think. Unlike him, you don't have years of media training to fall back on.

Finally, you speak.

"My grandpa."

Michael's expression softens immediately.

You smile to yourself. "He raised me, and he was the first person who taught me that listening is more important than talking."

You glance down at your hands as you continue to answer. "When I was little, if I had a bad day, he'd never jump in with advice. He'd just sit with me until I was ready to tell him what happened."

Michael listens intently.

"I think that's where all of this started." You gesture toward the microphones. "I realized people don't open up because someone asks the perfect question. They open up because someone makes them feel like they don't have to rush."

A quiet smile spreads across Michael's face. "Your grandfather sounds like a wonderful man."

"He is."

"And your grandmother?"

You laugh. "She thinks everyone leaves my podcast sounding like they've accidentally been to therapy."

Michael bursts into laughter, throwing his head back. "Oh, she's absolutely right."

"I know."

"You should invite your grandmother onto the next podcast episode we do."

"Oh?"

"So she can explain how she knew exactly what was going to happen to me."

You grin. "I'll see if she's available."

"You'd better."

The interview keeps going, and you ask Michael questions about his album Invincible and the creative process, which he happily talks to you about. He lights up as he describes the late nights in the studio and the songs he rewrote countless times before they finally felt right. Every answer comes with an easy smile and the occasional laugh, his passion for music making it impossible not to smile along with him.

After a while, you glance at the recorder's timer and notice that just over an hour has passed. There are still questions on your index card that haven't been asked, ones that you quickly added as backup as the interview went on. But as you’re sitting here with Michael, you realize you don’t need to ask anymore questions, except for the final one

What do you hope people remember?

You almost don't ask it, but you decide it's worth hearing the answer in his own words.

"One last question."

Michael straightens slightly. "This is the last one?"

"I promised I wouldn't keep you all day."

"I wouldn't have minded." The words leave his mouth so naturally that it causes you to blush.

“I mean-”

“I know what you meant.”

“Good.”

A faint blush creeps across his cheeks anyway, causing you to smile at his reaction.

“When all of this,” You gesture vaguely, encompassing everything from the room to the world outside it. “is over. The records, the tours, the awards...”

His expression grows thoughtful.

“What do you hope people remember?”

Unlike the other questions, this one doesn't seem to surprise him. It's almost as though he's been carrying the answer for years.

“I hope...” he begins quietly, “I hope that they remember I tried to make people happy."

He looks down at his hands. “Music can do that. A song can stay with someone after a bad day.” Then he looks back at you.

"I hope the people who actually knew me” His voice softens, as he slightly hesitates. “I hope they remember that I tried to be kind."

Kind.

Not legendary or iconic.

But kind.

You know in that moment, that’s all you need.

“Well, I think that perfectly captures this episode. Thank you for listening to Off The Record, and I’ll talk to you all in the next episode.”

You reach forward and press the stop button, watching as the red recording light disappears.

“That's it?” Michael asks.

“That's it.”

He exhales, almost laughing. “I think that's the shortest interview I've ever done.”

“It was also the longest conversation.”

He smiles. “I suppose it was.”

You begin unclipping the microphones from their stands and look at Michael.

He stands up and looks at you. “Y/N...thank you. Doing this, it's made me realize that this is what I've been missing from interviews all these years. I just needed someone to listen to me and not judge me. You're truly wonderful at this and I can tell this was your life's purpose." He says with a heartwarming smile.

You feel a blush form on your cheeks at the unexpected praise, and you let out a soft, almost embarrassed laugh. "Thank you, Michael. That... honestly means more than you know." You reach over to put the microphone away. "I just wanted to make sure people got to hear you, not just the headlines or the rehearsed answers."

Michael nods thoughtfully, slipping his hands into his pockets. "That's exactly what you did." He pauses for a moment before adding, "Most interviews feel like they're racing toward the next soundbite. While this," He gestures between the two of you with a small smile. "felt like a conversation."

You smile. "Then I did my job well."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Packing up takes longer than setting everything up, because neither of you seem particularly eager to rush.

Michael coils one of the microphone cables with surprising care.

"You do this often?" you ask.

"I've wrapped enough guitar cables in my life."

"I was going to compliment your technique."

He grins, handing you the cable. "I'll take it."

When everything has finally been packed away, you lift the recorder case off the coffee table. But before you can get very far, Michael reaches for it, brushing his hand against yours. The contact is brief, almost accidental, yet neither of you pull away immediately. You look up at him to meet his gaze, his brown eyes filled with something you can't quite explain. His fingers linger for just a heartbeat before he gently takes the case from your grasp.

"Let me get that for you," he says quietly, offering a small, genuine smile. "It's the least I can do after everything today."

You hesitate before nodding, returning the smile. "Thanks."

He smiles with quiet satisfaction and continues carrying the case toward the front of the house. You and Michael walk side by side toward the front entrance while Bill loads the equipment into the car a short distance away.

Michael sets down the recorder case and turns to you. "I was worried."

"About today?"

He nods. "I thought I'd spend the whole interview wondering if I was saying the right thing."

"And?"

"I forgot there was a microphone."

You smile. "That's the highest compliment you could give me."

"I mean it."

He steps a bit closer to you, so close that you can see the sincerity in his eyes. "I've never forgotten the microphone before."

The words settle somewhere deep inside you. "Thank you."

"No." He shakes his head. "Thank you."

Bill closes the trunk with a solid thud. "Whenever you're ready," he calls.

You nod, but neither you nor Michael moves. Michael slips his hands into his pockets.

"So..."

"So."

"I guess this is it, until the next episode."

"Well, I might have to bother you while I'm editing this episode."

He smiles, looking down at you. "You'd never bother me, Y/N."

You smile and look down, feeling flustered at his words. "Even someone that you barely know?"

He pauses for a moment. "I don't feel like I barely know you."

"Neither do I."

The admission hangs gently between you. A breeze stirs through the trees lining the driveway, lifting a loose strand of your hair across your face.

Before you can brush it away, Michael instinctively reaches toward you.

His hand stops halfway.

The movement is so quick, so unconscious, that you know he hadn't even thought about it. He catches himself. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I..." He glances at his suspended hand before lowering it awkwardly. "I wasn't thinking."

You understand immediately. You tuck the strand behind your own ear and offer him a small smile.

"It's okay."

His shoulders ease, though he still looks embarrassed.

"I just..." He laughs quietly at himself. "I wanted to move your hair out of your eyes."

Your heart gives an inconvenient little flutter. "I figured."

You both stand still for a few moments, until Bill's voice drifts over from the car. "If I leave without you, don't blame me."

You both laugh. "I should go." You say.

"You should."

Neither of you move. Then, finally, you take a step backward. "I'll call you when I've finished editing."

"I'll be waiting."

You smile. "I believe you."

As you turn toward the car, Michael calls after you.

"Y/N?"

You look back.

He hesitates, almost as if he's reconsidering saying it. "I'm really glad you came."

The simplicity of it makes your chest ache. "So am I."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When you get home, you unpack your things. As you put away the recorder case, your index card from the podcast slips out and falls to the floor.

You pick it up, and on it are still the three questions you brought with you. Except now, beneath the last one, written in neat black ink that definitely wasn't there this morning, is a single sentence.

I hope they remember that I tried to be kind.

You stare at the handwriting for a long moment, and then you smile.

He must've picked up the card while you were packing the equipment away, and he didn't crossed out your question: he'd simply answered it.

That one sentence makes you smile, and it makes you look forward to talking to him again.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------