This was requested by Anon. Hope you like it!💛
“Wait, wait start again!”
“Michael, do you seriously not remember the handshake we’ve been doing all tour?”
“I promise Y/N. I’ve got it this time.”
Michael held out his fist to initiate the little routine you two did just before he went on stage every night.
“Just don’t mess up the set okay?” you teased after the final high five.
“Don’t worry,” Calum scoffed, “he will.”
After a brief, playful scuffle Michael returned his attention to you.
“I’ll see you out there?” He asked under his breath
You gently stroked your fingertips through his whispy locks and nodded.
A crew member poked his head into the dressing room, “Alright boys, time to go!”
Michael turned to leave but back peddled when he felt your hand pulling at his.
His quizzical eyes met yours, “Are you okay?” He asked with a concerned tone in his voice
“Um…Yeah…I just wanted a second alone with you.”
A grin lit up Michael’s face as he leaned into you, his lips relentlessly layering into yours.
The same roadie came jogging down the hall, “Mike c'mon! She’ll be here when you get back!”
Michael cupped his hand around the nape of your neck, softly twisting his fingers into your hair, “You sure you’re alright?”
“Even if I wasn’t, you have a show to play,” you reply, “Don’t worry about me.”
Just then, the band’s tour manager, Don, stalked into the room, “Michael you have to go to stage,” he said sternly.
He shrugged on his guitar and pecked one last kiss against your forehead. As he passed through the door Michael whispered at a level he thought you couldn’t hear, “Can you just do me a favor and watch over Y/N while I’m gone?”
“Don, you really don’t have to stay with me.”
He had led you out to your seat on the lower floor with one of the band’s bodyguards. Don ignored your words so you tried once more, “I don’t need a babysitter. I’m just standing here, watching the show, nothing’s going to happen. Don’t you have work you should be doing?”
He looked over at you, then to his phone, which was riddled with text messages.
Don nodded and disappeared under the stage just as the house lights fell.
Typically, you took one of the unoccupied seats near the end of a row but this show was near capacity; almost no empty seats to be found. Tonight you were seated alone in the middle of a particularly raucous group. You were able to tolerate their pushing and shoving through the first few songs; they were excited and you completely understood. But around the middle of the set, the alcohol started flowing. One of the women routinely vanished every few minutes and reemerged with paper trays full of frothy beers.
Their cheers got louder and longer, their dance moves progressively got sloppier, and soon you felt like the arena walls were falling in on you. The breath caught in your throat and didn’t release. The vice-like feeling around your windpipe began the blur your vision. Your knees buckled from underneath you, the tattered vinyl folding chair behind you broke your fall. You tried to calm yourself by pulling in a few long drags of smoky air through your nose but it only made your head fuzzier. Despite the pins and needles pinching in your extremities, you fought your way into the arms of the bodyguard who was assigned to your row.
“I Ju…st need to g…g…et bac..sta…ge,” you gasp.
The man’s strong arm kept you upright and led you all the way to the couch in the band’s dressing room.
Curled up against the cushions, struggling to level your breathing, you heard a few roadies informing Don of what happened.
“Has this ever happened before?” One of the younger women asked.
“Yeah,” Don answered, “a couple times.”
“Michael’s the only one that can ever calm her down.”
Don cut her off, “No. He needs to focus on the show right now.”
Your eyes fluttered open at the faint sound of someone yelling. As the voice grew closer you were able to identify it as Michael.
“Where’s Don?” He demanded angrily
“Mikey, just calm down for a second.”
“Don’t ‘Mickey’ me! I told you to look after her! You could’ve at least told me in my ear that something was wrong!”
Don’s voice remained steady, “Tell me that you wouldn’t have dropped your guitar and rushed back here.”
“That’s beside the point Don,” Michael continued the shout, “You know how she is when this happens! You know she’s scared and you know that she needs me!”
You rolled over to see him fuming through the doorway.
“Michael, stop” you utter.
He turned on the heel of his sneaker and the second your eyes locked, his entire demeanor softened. In three strides he closed the distance between the two of you. He dropped to his knees next to the sofa, stroking his calloused fingertips over your temple, “Shhh I’m here now Y/N”
You scooted yourself back and Michael filled the empty space. His gentle embrace cradling you against his torso. One of his thumbs slipped under your shirt and ever so slightly traced your spine, his gaze never leaving your face. You rested both of your hands against his chest as a few stray tears fell from your eyes. He pursed his lips as if here were coming in for a kiss. At the last minute, he poked his tongue against the tip of your nose. A small giggle flitted from the back of your throat and an inevitable smile parted your lips.
“There she is,” Michael, cooed, “my beautiful girl.”
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