michael jackson x fem!reader. 𖹭.ᐟ
synopsis: an unexpected turn leads to the end of you & michael’s marriage. thirteen years later, his announcement of marriage and welcoming his first born leads you to reminisce about what could have been.
cw: implied (?) discussions of abortions. ⚠︎
The cold autumn air hit your face as you walked down one the many bustling streets of time square, New York City, your gloved hands stuffed into your coat’s pockets and a wool scarf hanging off your shoulder. People walked past you, some young, some old, some skipping ahead and some racing ahead of time. It was such an eye opener every time you wound up on the streets of New York City; the people, the noise, all the lights, it gave you a rush, the one you’ve been desperately chasing for almost a decade now.
It was nearing winter, your least favourite season, as the cold reminded you of how alone you’d been the last couple of ones which had passed. Being the established model that you were meant you were up and about constantly, flying to Milan one day then to Paris the next. It allowed you no time to yourself and the strain on your body always took effect during the winter. The cold seeped into your bones and rendered you feeling uncomfortable. On top of that, this year in particular, you had fallen off with a gentleman you’d been entertaining for a year now. The two of you mostly talked, nothing serious, but he wanted to get… and you faltered.
It had been thirteen years since things were close to getting serious for you… and you were afraid that even after all that time, you would end up in a particular situation once again.
All unfortunate things seemed to happen to you during the last portion of the year.
Parading the streets of New York City helped you to reflect on a lot of things that were going on in your life. Being surrounded by all those people allowed you to bury and hide yourself among them, so you wouldn’t feel more alone, so your thoughts wouldn’t consume you while you sat confined in between the walls of your lonely apartment.
You stood at the end of the sidewalk, waiting to cross over to the other side. It was loud and the cold air made it hard to breathe. You really hated the cold. To your side, there was a baby in a stroller, staring up at you, their chubby hands reaching out. You smiled, raising your gloved hand to give a wave. The mother smiled at you too, and you gave her a silent nod.
When the crossing sign came on, you buried your face further into your scarf, rubbed your fingers together and began walking, careful not to bump into others. Half way through crossing, you happened to turn your head, catching a glimpse of the huge, wide screen that hung on one of the buildings, and was forced to stop in your tracks. Right there, on the white pedestrian crossing lines, in between multiple people, you were rendered frozen as you read the big, bold letters on screen.
MICHAEL JACKSON TIES THE KNOT WITH DEBBIE ROWE, TO WELCOME FIRST CHILD.
The words registered faster than you expected, and in that moment, the world didn’t stop. It continued moving without you, people walked across the lines without you, some looking back at you, wondering why you had randomly stopped in the middle of the street.
You’d thought about this for years; what would be your initial reaction the day Michael announced that he was married again and would be starting to build his dream of becoming a father? Two years ago, when the announcement came that he’d married Lisa, you’d held your breath, but then they’d divorced this year, and you’d been able to breathe again.
It was a bit pathetic. You thought you’d put Michael and everything that came—or didn’t come—with him behind you. But at that moment, he still had power over you.
Right now, you didn’t hold your breath.
A smile made its way to your face as you read the headline. She was apparently half way through her pregnancy too, you noticed, your eyes trained on the hand Michael had placed on her barely visible protruding belly.
Your own belly twisted in agony, however you were somewhat relieved.
At least someone had managed to fulfill the promises you couldn’t even make, much less keep.
“When were you going to tell me…?”
You swallowed, head hanging, tear filled eyes trained on the freshly polished front of your husband’s black loafers.
Voice barely above a whisper, and shaking, you answered, "I don’t know.” because you didn’t. It felt as if you knew nothing in that moment, what to do, what to say… you wished that the ground would open up and swallow you whole so you did not have to raise your head and look at Michael’s furious expression… because he had to be enraged or at the very least, conflicted.
Michael was everything but as he beckoned you to lift your head and look at him. Your eyes found each other’s and it absolutely broke him to see how terrified you were.
He thought you were terrified of telling him, but that wasn’t your main concern.
“Hey… we gon’ figure this out, mama. I promise.” Michael took promises way too seriously for you to let him promise that. You didn’t want to figure this out, at least, not in the way he had in mind. “Whatever this baby needs, I’m gon’ give it to ’em. I’m gon’ take real good care of you both.”
The tears pooling in your eyes no longer threatened to fall as you heard Michael’s declaration. You knew he wasn’t processing this information well. He hadn’t thought about it like you had. All he heard was “baby” and immediately got excited. Neither of you could afford to feel excitement right now.
Michael panicked, reaching for your hands, concern flooding his face. He begged to tell him what was on your mind, but you could only shake your head, quiet sobs falling from your mouth.
“I can’t do it, Michael.” you forced out.
Puzzled, Michael leaned back. “Of course you can. I’ll be right here, by your side. Everything’ll be alright.” he assured you, but you weren’t convinced. It was more than him. It was you.
“We can’t… have this baby.” You repeated. There was a pause. “I can’t have this baby. I can’t have your baby.”
“What—” Michael’s lip trembles, “What’s that supposed to mean?” He stared at you, brows furrowed in disbelief, eyes frantically searching your face.
“I can’t have your baby Michael!” you forced out, almost yelling at him. “You work all the time with—with the rehearsals and recordings and performances and—and not to mention all the shit they say about you in the papers! What they say about me! I can’t raise a baby dealin’ with that shit!” you jumped up from your spot on the bed, fingers jabbing into your chest, “And what about me, huh? I don’t got a life too? They just signed me to an agency in New York!”
Michael was trying to comprehend all that you just said. You’d thrown it all out all at once that he was struggling to grasp it. He was trying to digest the words “I can’t have your baby”—those hit particularly hard for him. He understood the challenges his stardom would bring, all the work and the slander, he got that, but… was he not the person you’d wanted to be the father of your children?
“...New York? You ain’t tell me that…”
You uncomfortably shifted your gaze.
“Yeah, well… now you know.” Your voice lowered once again, and your tone calmed. You shrugged. “I didn’t tell you ’cause… cause this happened.” You looked away.
“Well,” Michael huffed. His eyes danced around the room. He was overwhelmed, didn’t know what to say. You could read him like a book. “Can’t you compromise? Tell ’em you got something goin’ on down here and—”
You couldn’t believe it. You threw your hands up dramatically. “Michael!” you exclaimed. “Fuck me, it’s like you didn’t even hear a word I said! You want me to give up my dreams for what? A baby?!”
His jaw tightened. “Our baby. And I would never ask you to do that—”
“Your baby.” you cut him off. “I don’t want this. I never have. I can’t—I can’t be a mother.”
Michael bit his lip. He was confused. An emotion came over him so strong his eyes welled with tears just like yours had. Now you were both crying. He took a deep breath, his mouth hung open for a few seconds, finding the words to say. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you with his words like you’d done to him. “You promised me, when we said our vows, you promised me we’d build a family together.” he spoke, those wide eyes staring at you all broken like you’d literally stepped on his heart. And fuck, you might have. You shook your head, not wanting to hear those words, but Michael insisted. “You promised.”
Looking up, you tried to prevent the tears from falling. You couldn’t look at him, not when he looked like this. “I didn’t promise anything.” your voice strained. You really hadn’t made any promises. Whenever Michael brought up the conversation of kids, you never entertained it not only because you truly did not want to be a mother, but also because you didn’t think it’d happen barely two years into your marriage. You were just too in love with Michael to let him go. Could you blame him for feeling betrayed right now? No, and you hated yourself.
You loved him so much but the truth of the matter is, you should have never said yes to his proposal in the first place, because there was no compromising when it cane to this.
There was silence for far too long.
“Say something… please…” You begged. Michael was struggling to find words. He felt as if he’d been deceived. All he think of to say was,
“What’re you going to do?”
“I…” you hesitated. “I won’t have the baby.”
Michael nodded, lip lodged in-between his teeth, like he was coming to an understanding, but you could tell by the tears falling from his face, all he wanted was for his conversation to stop. He couldn’t bear it. He ran his hands over his face and huffed. Then came a quiet, “Okay.”
That’s all he said. You stared at each other. Neither of you had words left to say, but you hoped something else would come out of his mouth, like a “Are you sure?” or even an “I love you” even if he couldn’t have meant it at that moment.
And Michael wanted to say it. He wanted to pull you close to his chest and hold your head, whisper “I love you” and then kiss your forehead ever so softly… even if his heart was on fire.
But he didn’t. All he did was turn on his heel, grab his jacket and walk out the door. You were too exhausted to stop him.
As Michael walked away from you, the misunderstanding between you grew further and further—you thought he was enraged because of your decision of terminating the pregnancy, but more than anything, he was heartbroken because he had no other choice but to walk out of your life.
You didn’t know it then, but that was one of the first times Michael had chosen himself over you, and had you known, you would have been proud of him.
The following month, in November, your appointment was booked. You had pondered on the decision for weeks, the argument you and Michael had ended up clouding your judgement and truthfully, you had second guessed yourself. But you forced yourself to see the road further ahead. A baby with Michael’s schedule and growing stardom would be a nightmare. On top of that, you had your priorities too. I guess we all have our reasons to be selfish, you thought.
So, without another doubt in your mind, you walked into the clinic, head held up high and a slight wobble in your step, but you walked anyway. You were mortified, but for once, you were making a decision for you.
You expected a request of divorce to come in the following months, but it never did. You figured it was because you two had gotten married in the Jehovah’s Witness church and the act was simply discouraged. Michael had probably also brought it up to his mother, Katherine, who probably was against it, and so Michael didn’t follow through with it either.
What you didn’t know was that that was only a third of the reason. Truthfully, Michael couldn’t bring himself to let you go. He didn’t care about the church. You’d carried his entire being with you for years. He was conflicted, yes, but he didn’t resent you. There was still love in his heart for you—an immense amount—that he didn’t think would go away ever.
So, for the next couple of years, the two of you remained separated. Contact remained as scarce as the rain during a drought. He’d ghosted you, and you’d thought, “I’d expected nothing less from you,” because as much as you loved Michael, he was sometimes immature and weak. You just hoped as the years went by, Michael’s mind and heart grew with him, so he could one day fully understand your reasoning.
In the fall of 1987, the divorce papers came. You remembered smiling to yourself, thinking that what the papers said were true and that Michael had finally left the church. At least he’d started to finally make his own decisions, like you did.
In the spring of 1988, one day at one of your photoshoots, an assistant brought over the biggest bouquet of flowers you had ever seen, a note attached to it. You opened it to read, deep down hoping to see a familiar handwriting like you always had, and to your delight, that is what you saw.
I know it’s not much, but for all the pain I’ve caused. More than anything, I hope you’re healing and doing well. I see you on those magazine covers. Atta girl.
I still think of the both of you everyday.
After nearly five years, he finally matured enough to give you closure.
After nearly five years, you still thought of him, too.
You kept the flowers and cherished them until they wilted away in the glass vase you put them to sit in. Their petals fell one by one, their stems grew rotten and you and Michael never crossed paths again, the universe deciding to fully end whatever red string of fate that tied you together.
The memory came back to you for the nth time, because it had been the one thing that haunted and taunted you for years. You didn’t regret your decision, because at the end of the day, you chose what was best for you, but it was bittersweet to imagine what could have been… but in the end, it wasn’t. You supposed Michael got his happy ending, even if it wasn’t with you, but that was enough. As long as he was content, you were too.
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