#otw!michael

which honestly just spurred him on. now he had to quench his curiosity, his thirst for knowledge of this mysterious creature who wants nothing to do with him.

he'd find you on the playground on a picnic table during break from class. he'd just watch you read or talk to your friends, desperately wanting to be a part of your inner circle.

your friends, talking amongst each other while you read, made eye contact with little michael. and oh lord was that terrifying. because now they were pointing, and not just pointing but they were also laughing.

all he was doing was sitting on the ground with his food tray, what could they want? he started to worry, panic, his eyes frantically searching for a way out. he never asked for this. he just wanted to sing. sing and dance and perform for everyone. but not now. not while he was trying to learn, let alone eat.

he squeezed his eyes shut, praying to God for a reprieve, a break from the stares. just leave me alone...

what he missed was you looking over your shoulder to where the numerous eyes landed. they were directed at michael, who was just a boy. you scoffed at your friends, making a disgusted face at their actions. "guys, what is your problem?"

"it's michael jackson! the boy who sings like an angel, don't you get it?"

"he's just a boy, miranda." they still wouldn't stop gawking. "okay, genuinely just leave him alone!" you slammed your book shut. you eyes fell on the boy again, watching him pray. his eyes suddenly opened as if he knew you were watching. an understanding was made that day. you saw him for him. he watched as you walked across the courtyard, not breaking eye contact. you nodded your head in the direction of the metal gate door, implying for him to follow you. he got up immediately, dumping his food tray face down on the ground. maybe this was a bad idea but... it was you so um maybe not.

19yrold!michael smiled as you read your book, just like that day on the playground. he was sitting on a thick branch, you were at the base of the tree reading a book on jellyfish.

he called your name. even if he had whispered you would have looked up. you always knew when he was trying to get your attention, like a sixth sense.

"hi, michael." you smiled, staring up at him.

"i was just thinking about that time on the playground... when you rescued me."

"rescued you? it was nothing, michael."

"don't you remember?" michael began to climb down, a confused look on his face. "the other kids they were... they were staring at me and laughin'."

you looked away from his eye line. feeling guilt for the wrongdoings that weren't even yours. you placed your finger as a bookmark on your page and shut the book. it was long forgotten in your mind now, replaced by the memory michael wanted to talk about.

"you led me away from them. took me to your favorite classroom. i think the teacher's name was uh... Mrs. Wilson."

"yeah," you smiled in nostalgia. "Mrs. Wilson. she was so nice. she let me retreat to her classroom whenever times got hard. i knew she'd understand if i brought you, too."

michael thought about your time together with Mrs. Wilson. how she'd bring lollipops and disney coloring pages. she'd let you talk and talk and talk. he was grateful for Mrs. Wilson because she brought you and him together. and he hoped you'd always be best friends.

"i could really use one of her lollipops right about now." michael announced with a grin.

°•°•°•°•°•

you always took care of michael. no one else would, you saw that countless times. so you made sure to step up, be whatever he needed. a friend, an older sibling, a partner in crime.

as michael got older, his childishness never dissipated. he always wanted to play games and run around with water balloons. being with him was forgetting your adult responsibilities and learning to have fun. you had to grow up way too quickly. but so did he. so you guys made sure to make your own fun.

you read a lot, mostly nonfiction. about various things. you just liked to learn. michael would read with you but he'd always bring a book about peter pan or cinderella. it was a nice change in pace, even if not your style.

you knew before michael anything in regards to regression. there was a large chapter on it in a psychology textbook you found at a garage sale in michael's neighborhood.

you and michael went to check out, you with a textbook and michael with a toddler hardcover book about snails.

you noticed the book in his hand. "oh you picked nonfiction this time!"

"i wanted to follow in your footsteps." he blushed, just a little, and smiled with adoration for you.

from the textbook, you learned about the signs of regression and how to help others who experience that. you learned about why it happens and how you can cope with it. it all clicked.

michael would tell you countless times of how his father treated him. how his brothers wouldn't do anything to help. how his mother tried but was also under joseph's spell. he couldn't even call joseph "dad" for goodness sake.

you even witnessed it once, just once, when his father thought no one was looking. but you were looking and you were absolutely livid. michael ran crying to you, at this point he was taller than you, had just hit puberty so his shoulders hunched over you. he weeped into your arms and you rubbed his back, whispering how you'll always be there and how he'll be okay. you told him "one day, we'll run away together just you and me. we'll go somewhere no one will find us." neverland? he asked. "somewhere even better" you replied.

°•°•°•°•°•

you never actually brought up to michael that what he was doing was age regressing. you don't think he even realizes the difference.

there was one summer night, you were having a sleepover playing twister in his room. you could see michael shifting smaller and smaller. but he was happy and that was all that mattered.

he'd start to babble just a little. you could still understand him but his words had a certain childlike manner to them, they were somehow even softer spoken and muddled together.

his movements got sloppy, his coordination dwindled just a little. but he never seemed to notice.

the thing about you is you're hyper aware. you notice everything. you talked to him softer, using kind words and a gentle tone. if he fell down from the game, you'd tell him he's okay and that he can try again.

when he go bored of the game, he'd ask for music with his big ol' bambi eyes and you'd deliver, not letting him do anything. you'd tell him, "it's okay, I got it."

you'd let him pick the music though, so he knew he always had control in his life.

and when bedtime came, you'd instruct him to brush his teeth and tell him what a good job he's doing. michael was reveling in your attention and praise. absolutely red in the face.

he'd ask shyily "do you wanna... sleep h- here?"

"hmm?" you'd question.

"inmybed!... in my-y bed.." he covered his face in embarrassment. he just didn't want to be alone, even though you'd be sleeping not far, just on his floor.

"yeah, michael, i can sleep on your bed with you." you smiled warmly.

he got so happy then and jumped a little in place. he clumsily ran to his bed, determined to make it perfect just for you. you went to grab more pillows and blankets too to make it my honey and nice.

at night, you wrapped michael in your arms, his head rested on your chest.

"goodnight, baby boy." you mumbled.

"b- baby boy?"

"yeah is that okay?"