Lisa @mjswhispers - Tumblr Blog

Seat Filler 🏆

Word count: 5.4k

Warning(s): none

February 28th, 1984. Los Angeles, CA.

"Thank you. Someone will be guiding you to your seat momentarily." The coat checker advised as she handed you a ticket in exchange for your coat.

You took the red ticket from her hands and slipped it in your coin purse. "Thanks."

The Recording Academy has invited you to the 26th Annual Grammy Awards as a seat filler. This is the first time you've been invited to an award show of this caliber. They were looking to hire locals for this days before the event out of convenience so you gladly accepted.

"Y/N L/N?" one of the ushers questioned as he approachedd you with a clipboard in hand, double-checking it to enure he had the right name.

You nodded before responding. "Yes, that's me."

"Right this way, miss." they motioned, guiding you to follow them. As soon as you stepped toward them, they turned over their shoulder, leading you inside the Shine Auditorium.

You glanced look around the venue as you walked in with the usher.

"A couple rules before the show starts: the show will be broadcasted so you can not leave your seat for any reason. No flash photography is allowed, and no autographs..." the usher spoke over his shoulder.

You nodded, trying to keep up with his long but quick strides.

"And for absolutely no reason at all: do not speak to the artists unless you're spoken to. Got it?" The usher continued while walking down the center aisle.

"Got it."

"Good." The usher turned to his right and stopped in front of your assigned seat, extending his hand to you, presenting it before continuing. "Enjoy the show."

You thanked the usher as you sat down, slipping your coin purse underneath the seat once you got comfortable. When you followed the usher with your gaze, they continued assigning seats to the other seat fillers, scattering them over the entire first floor. The remaining ones were escorted to the second floor.

After all of the seat fillers were placed, the ushers began bringing in the different artists and their teams who were nominated tonight. Slowly but surely, a steady hum of voices filled the auditorium. People were talking as the seats filled up, and you took another look around the venue. It wasn't too loud, and it wasn't too quiet; it was just right.

All of a sudden, you heard squeals of every pitch coming from the back half of the auditorium. When you turned over your shoulder to see what the fuss was about, in walked the very man whose aura seemed to carry the entire room. He strode in like he owned the place, his entourage and family members following in behind him.

The applause erupted in a tumultuous wave as people gave him a standing ovation, simply because he walked in the room. The ushers pivoted to escort the main attraction to his seat—the one next to you.

"Here you are, Mr. Jackson," the usher gestured him to his seat, much like he had done for you.

Shielded by his black-tinted Linda Farrow 6031 aviators, confidence oozed from every step he took. His shoulders were squared, and his sequined blue and yellow military jacket, paired with perfectly tailored pants, fit him just as well as the sequined glove on his left hand. As he walked down the row, you caught a better glimpse of him. He wore a slight smirk, his gaze directed toward you as he chewed his gum.

"Thank you, sir." Michael sat down in the theater seat, giving you a simple nod as a way of saying hello.

You smiled at him, then quickly looked away, biting the inside of your right cheek.

The usher slightly bowed to him and said, "Enjoy the show!" Then, with a turn on his heels, he left you both sitting there. You wanted to say something to him but you didn't want to risk it. The clear aroma of his cologne filled your senses, practically luring you to turn your head back in his direction. He was already looking at you.

"Hi." You spoke up. Rules were made to be broken right?

"Hi.." he grins, clearly appreciating your forwardness.

"I'm Y/N." you say, reaching your hand out over your body for him to shake.

"Michael." He shakes your hand with a smile, which, to you, felt like a small distraction as the sequins on his glove pricked your palm. You didn't mind it, but he let go of your hand just in case.

"Big night ahead of you, huh superstar?" You continued, referring to his record breaking 13 nominations for Thriller.

He chuckled bashfully, "Yeah.. it is."

You shifted in your seat to engage more actively in the conversation. "You excited?"

Michael mirrored your actions slightly, nodding before replying, "Oh yeah, I have a pretty good feeling about how the night will turn out."

"Really?"

"Of course. Being nominated an odd number of times, I'm certain I'll get at least half of that if not more. The odds are definitely in my favor."

Intrigued, you listened intently to Michael's confident hypothesis. "And he's humble too, ladies and gentlemen." you grinned at him.

"Hey!" Michael scoffed, feigning an appalled expression. He nudged you playfully which causes you to laugh. "I am very humble!"

"Uh huh."

Michael likes your playful energy, he's slowly becoming more interested in you by the minute. A smirk plays on his face which causes you to size him up. You continue to do so before speaking again. "What?"

"Let's make a bet."

Intrigued by his sudden remark, you look at him to continue. "What kind of bet?"

"If I win 7 awards tonight, you have to give me your phone number."

Taken back by the request, your sharp tongue got the best of you, "I don't have to give you anything." You smirk at him.

Michael's smile falters a bit before he licked his bottom lip. He wasn't expecting this answer but he also didn't mind the challenge. "You're right. You don't have to." He leaned closer to you to whisper, "but you'll want to." His smirk slowly returned.

"We'll see about that." You matched his smirk ever so slightly. It was clear as day as to why so many girls were easily swayed by his charms. And if you were being honest with yourself, it was working on you too.

He chuckled heartily as he heard your quick retort. You waited a beat before speaking again.

"If you don't win as many Grammys as you think you will, you have to let me wear your sunglasses for the rest of the night."

Michael raised his eyebrows at the request. He's never heard of anyone wanting to do something like that before. It amused him.

"You want me to take off my glasses?"

"Yup!"

"Okay, Y/N. You got yourself a deal!" he spoke confidently and used his gloveless hand to shake yours this time.

You grinned at him as the handshake lingered a little longer than intended.

The moment was interrupted by someone clearing their throat, causing Michael to look over his shoulder and you to look over his shoulder as well. It was Brooke Shields, Michael's date for the evening.

"The show's about to start." She spoke dryly, cutting her eyes at you before looking at him.

Behind his aviators, Michael had a sheepish look in his eyes with an apologetic smile to match as he looked at his date. He forgot she was sitting there. Shifting in his seat, he adjusted his jacket and sat up a bit straighter to look ahead.

Taking the hint, you turned your gaze from Michael and looked ahead at the well lit stage, watching the camera crew prepare to start taping the ceremony. The thought of you not only speaking to Michael, but you actually engaging in a conversation with him sent an unexpected thrill through you. You were excited to see which way the bet was going to go, though you were pretty confident you were going to win it.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

“And the winner is, Michael Jackson!”

Michael grinned as he got up for the seventh time tonight, heading straight for the steps leading up to the podium.

You stood up along with everyone else, giving him a round of applause. He held the Grammy in his hands, looking around the room as he basked in the high energy and applause— yours included. He smirked slightly as his gaze met yours, clapping for him.

Throughout the evening, you and Michael became better acquainted. Though light, the conversations you shared during the ceremony were intriguing. Then, he remembered the bet the two of you made before the show started. He was reveling in this win.

Once he stepped up to the podium, everyone sat back down in their seats.

"Thank you, thank you." Michael leaned down to speak into the microphone. He could barely get the words out before the catcalls from the audience drowned him out. He continued his acceptance speech, bringing his sisters on stage with him to celebrate this win, thanking Steven Spielberg, Quincy Jones's wife Peggy, and his immediate family members, including Jermaine.

He looked around the room once more before his gaze landed on you.

"I made a deal with myself if I win one more award," he began. "Which is this award, which is seven, which is a record—" He flashed a slight smirk in your direction before adding, "I would take off my glasses." Michael stood up straighter, taunting you, wearing his smirk proudly.

You chuckle at his comment to yourself, folding your arms and rolling your eyes. You couldn't help but grin as you watched him on stage.

"I don't want to take them off really, but um.." he teased as he heard the audience roared with excitement. Most of the noise came directly from women on the second level, screaming, "Take it off! Take it off!"

He found himself licking his lips, then biting them as he listened to the crowd's chant. Glancing at his sisters, he asked them if he should do it. All three of them nodded with laughter, encouraging him to go along with it.

Michael turned back to you, speaking into the microphone, "Alright, well, a dear friend of mine told me that I should so I'm doing it for her, okay?" He smiles before continuing, holding his finger up, "And for the girls in the balcony!" He quickly removed his glasses, blowing a couple kisses to the crowd, followed by a wave.

You found yourself blushing as you clapped once more with the audience. After a few moments, Michael was made his way back to his seat, looking at you, clearly giddy about his win— both the award and this bet.

Holding back a grin, you kissed your teeth. "I guess congratulations are in order," you said, watching him sit down.

"Why thank you.. I'd certainly like to tell you I'd told you so now, but, I think I'd rather tell it to you over the phone later." he replied smoothly. His glasses were still off, so you could tell he was looking you up and down.

Rolling your eyes and grinning again, you shook your head at his relentless nature. "I don't think your date would like that very much." You teased, as you nodding your head in the direction of a very, envious Brooke Shields, who was glaring at you from the seat next to him.

Michael followed your gaze and chuckled before looking at you. "You have nothing to worry about."

You hum before continuing, "Doesn't look that way. She looks like she wants to drop a piano on my head right about now." You joked, causing Michael to laugh.

Michael briefly turned his head to look at her reaction again before focusing back on you. "Oh, ignore her, she's just jealous that I'm having more fun talking to you than to her." he mumbled.

"Does she have the right to be jealous, or are you two just friends?" You asked boldly.

Michael laughed and raised his eyebrow slightly. "Oh, she's just a friend." he said sincerely, before leaning in slightly to give you a closer look at his eyes. "Why do you ask?" He asked, coyly.

You grinned, your eyes flickering from his eyes to his lips. "Just curious.." you replied, before looking back in his eyes.

He took notice of you checking him out and smirked, speaking flirtatiously, "Is that so?"

"Yeah, that's so." You held his gaze while speaking to him.

"And is there a reason why you're checking me out so much?" His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip before biting on it.

"Yeah.." you started, leaning over to him. "You have a booger." You grin amusingly.

Michael's eyes widened before letting out a laugh louder than he probably should've. "Oh shut up, I do not!" He protested jokingly, putting one hand over his face trying to cover his nose.

"Only one way to find out.." you shrugged, throwing a smirk his way.

Michael sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically, feigning defeat. "Fine, I suppose I shall go take care of this then. Make sure no cameras follow me, alright? Wouldn't want the world to know that even Michael Jackson can get boogers!" He said jokingly while getting up from his seat, putting his aviators back on.

You giggled at him, slightly scrunching your own nose.

Michael watched you before saying, "Oh don't you go scrunching that cute little nose at me."

"Oh so, my nose is cute now?"

He chuckled. "Of course it is. All of you is cute." He stated boldly, placing his hands on both of your armrests, caging you in. Clearly, he didn't care who was watching him right now.

"Is that so?" You asked, mocking him from earlier.

"Yes, that is so. Every part of you is quite cute, in fact." He spoke flirtatiously once again, his eyes roaming over you. Neither of you spoke for a couple moments, just looking at each other, the tension between you at an all-time high.

"You better get to that bathroom.." you grinned, biting your lip at him.

Michael's eyebrows raised, slightly narrowing his eyes at you, "If you keep looking at me like that, you'll make me want to stay put."

You hold your hands up in surrender. "Don't wanna keep you from relieving your nostrils.."

"You're right," he chuckled, pushing himself off of your chair and backing away. "I shouldn't keep them waiting."

You giggled at his sarcasm. He continued walking backwards, looking at you, his smirk turning into a smile. "Can't keep them waiting too long, y'know? they might cause a riot."

This made you laugh harder, which was exactly what he wanted. He had found himself enjoying making you laugh. You kept watching him as he walked backward down the middle aisle of the auditorium.

Michael laughed with you, scanning the room to make sure he wasn't going to trip on anything before focusing back on you. "I'll be right back, darling. Save my seat for me." He lowered his glasses to the bridge of his nose and winked at you before turning over his shoulder, walking toward the bathroom.

Michael didn't actually have a booger in his nose, but he will find that out soon enough. You laughed to yourself as you watched the door close from afar. As the show broke for a commercial break, you couldn't help but feel a set of eyes burning into the side of your face. You glanced over and found Brooke glaring at you. She didn't say a word— just sat there, looking like she has a stick up her ass.

"Can I help you?" You asked, finally breaking the silence.

Brooke frowned slightly. "No, I'm just wondering what you think you're doing. You've been getting a little too comfortable talking to Michael when you know he has a date."

"It's called having a conversation. You should try it sometime." you snorted.

Brooke rolled her eyes at your comment, not finding you amusing in the slightest. "Oh I know what a conversation is, thank you very much. I just prefer to have them with people who are worth my time." She replied with a snarky tone.

"Oh? So you think Michael isn't worth your time?" You grinned smugly as you asked her that.

Brooke scoffed. "I wasn't talking about him not being worth my time." She studied you before adding, "You, on the other hand, I'm not so sure. You seem too laid back for him."

You chuckled at her attempt to dig at you, "Maybe that's why he'd rather talk to me than talk to you.."

Brooke's face fell quickly, a hint of annoyance flashing in her eyes. She's trying to keep her cool but it's clear that your comment struck a nerve. A scowl formed on her face, speaking to you in a harsher tone, "Oh and just what makes you so special huh? You just think cause he spoke to you for a little bit that automatically makes you more desirable?"

"Of course, dear." You simply smirked. You were not thrown by her little comments.

Scoffing again, Brooke's scowl deepened, her irritation growing the more you open your mouth. "Oh please. You're far from special. You're just an average girl who got lucky enough to sit next to Michael. You're not worthy of his attention he's just talking to you because he's bored."

You grinned, "Careful, your projection is showing."

Brooke grits her teeth, throwing you another cold glare before replying sharply, "Oh shut up. I'm not projecting anything. I just know someone like you is not good enough for Michael. He deserves someone that's of his status."

"Oh gosh, someone like you?" You asked with feigned enthusiasm, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

Brooke scoffed again. "Yes someone like me. Someone who has elegance, grace, charm and most importantly, class. Someone that can actually hold a decent conversation and not make silly jokes just to get a cheap laugh."

This made you laugh. "Oh honey, if you could hold a decent conversation, he would be talking to you."

Brooke huffed in annoyance. "Like I need his attention. I have plenty of guys fighting for mine all the time. I could have any guy I want."

You grinned, feigning a shocked reaction. "And as soon as they take one look at me, you'd be an afterthought." You paused dramatically before adding, "Oh!.... Kinda like now!"

Brooke's eyes burned with anger. "You really think you're that special? You're forgettable at best. No one would choose you over me."

"Keep telling yourself that."

"I don't need to keep telling myself what's true. Trust me darling, no one would pick you over me, not even Michael." Brooke huffed again, her patience was running thin.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." You quipped. The commercial break soon came to an end, the camera crew resumed filming the show while you and Brooke continued.

Brooke's irritation was bubbling over. "My beauty and charm can beat yours any day. Your little jokes and carefree attitude will only get you so far, sweetheart."

"If that were the case, you'd be more than just.." you trailed off to look her up and down, "a friend." You smirked.

Brooke's eye twitched, another nerve was seemingly stricken. Your smirk only irritated her further. "Oh don't act like you know anything. You don't have a single clue about my relationship with Michael. We're more than just friends. We have something special! You wouldn't understand that."

You sat coolly in your seat before responding, "Then why didn't he tell me that?"

"Oh, well, He probably just forgot to mention it. He probably didn't think it was important since you're just... you know.. nothing compared to me." Brooke spoke defensively.

You chuckled, "I see."

Brooke has had it with your cocky attitude. She forced a smile, feigning a sympathetic look, "It's cute how you think you mean something to him though. You're just a temporary distraction, nothing more. Once I have his full attention, he'll forget you ever existed."

"We'll see what happens when he comes back won't we?" You say, calling her on her bluff.

She let out a small huff and replied in an icy tone, "Oh we'll see alright. When he comes back, he'll be all over me and you'll be nothing but a distant memory."

"Okay." You smirked.

Your arrogance was getting up under her skin. "Don't be so confident darling, you're delusional if you think you have a chance with him."

"And you're delusional if you think you'll be anything more than just a— what did you call it? A 'special friend'? You taunted her and laughed.

Brooke's anger flared up, her patience finally reaching its limit. "We are more than just special friends. We're... on a whole other level. But I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand the concept of true intimacy and connection."

"Girl, if I wanted Michael, I would have him eating out the palm of my hand. I don't have to throw myself at him just to get his attention. You've been sitting here all night, trying to fight to get his attention like a dog chasing its own tail. And despite your best efforts, it's still not enough." You shrugged.

Brooke was fuming. Her hands clenched into tight fists, visibly shaking from anger. "Oh, you think you're so damn special, don't you? You think you can just waltz in here and steal Michael away from me like it's nothing? Don't make me laugh. You're nothing but a cheap imitation of me. You don't even come close."

"What's cheap is that paper made fan you call a dress. Clearly, you must think I'm pretty special since you keep asking me that." You say to her, tilting your head for a moment, throwing her the same feigned sympathetic look she gave you earlier. "Awww, thank you honey. I'm flattered but I don't swing that way." You wink at her.

Brooke's eyes widened in shock, her mouth falling open slightly as she tries to process your words. Her face grew redder with anger as her body shook with rage. She was struggling to stay composed, trying to find a way to respond. "I— I... you.." She was at a loss for words, her mind going blank from anger and embarrassment.

You grin smugly at her lack of response. Michael soon comes back from the bathroom, making his way to the front row. He stood in front of the empty chair between you and Brooke— his chair. "So, what did I miss?" he asked.

"Nothing important," you replied with a smirk.

Michael chuckled, his smirk only growing as he looked between you and Brooke, noticing the irritated look on her face. His gaze lingered on her for a moment before he glanced back at you again, "Hmm, you sure? It feels pretty intense here." His tone was playful as he sat back down.

You watched him settle into his seat before casually saying, "I don't know... I think Brooke might have a crush on me or something." You teased, a slow grin spreading across your face.

He busts out laughing, his eyes widening slightly as he was surprised by your words. He glanced at Brooke, seeing her face turning slightly red and chuckled again. Michael looked back at you, his smile growing bigger as he continued to speak in a playful tone. "Oh, really? A crush on you, huh?"

You grin and shrug coyly at his question, earning another laugh out of Michael. He couldn't help but find this entire situation amusing. Michael smirked and leaned in closer to you.

"Hmm, I can't say that I'd blame her if she did have a crush on you. You are very beautiful." He said in a very flirtatious tone.

"I'm quite aware of that." You smirked.

"And so modest.." he teased.

"Careful Michael Jackson, flattery will get you everywhere." you gushed, teasing him right back.

Michael chuckled, his eyes taking in your face as if he's studying every detail. He kept his grin and his voice low and playful as he spoke, clearly enjoying the banter between you two. "Does it? Well, I guess I'll just have to keep on flattering you."

"You can try.." you grin a little wider.

Michael leaned in closer, closing the distance between you so he can whisper in your ear. "Darling, I'm gonna to do more than just try. I'll make sure that tonight will be a night you'll never forget." He grinned at you. You found yourself grinning back, amused by his determination.

You let him have the last word this time as you let your eyes wander. It's not lost on you how attractive this man is. This only made you more curious to see the lengths he would go to get you feening for him.

The moment was completely overtaken by the presenter announcing the Grammy for Record of the Year.

"And the winner is... Beat it by Michael Jackson and Quincy Jones, Thriller!"

Making it his eighth Grammy win, Michael smiled at you, slipping his aviators back on before standing up to retrace the steps he had been taking all evening.

You amusedly watched him head up to the stage, accepting the award alongside Quincy. From what you'd heard, no artist has ever won eight Grammy awards in one night, and the fact that Michael was able to accomplish such a feat truly amazed you. You could tell how overjoyed he was to receive this Grammy, and as you listened to his short but meaningful acceptance speech, you couldn't help but smile. You were genuinely happy for him.

After Quincy said a few words, he hugged Michael, and they went backstage, presumably to take photos with all of his trophies. Michael soon returned as the host for tonight's Grammy awards came back out on stage to close out the show.

"Congratulations again, Michael, you truly deserve it!" You spoke sincerely.

"Ahh, this is a nice change of pace," he teases you as he sat down, surprised by your genuine words. He had been expecting another smart remark.

You looked at him with a smile, your tone softening with warmth. "Thriller is a great album, I won't argue with that."

"Thank you, I really appreciate you saying that. It means a lot." Michael replied in a gentler tone, looking at you with sincerity. He enjoyed hearing your praises.

You grinned in response and looked away for a moment before Michael gently brought your attention back to him, his finger guiding your chin to face him. "So Y/N.. about that phone number.." he said, his voice low as he lightly traced down your jawline, his finger lingering near your ear. He gently brushed your hair behind your shoulder, his touch trailing along the outline of your shoulder. His eyes never left yours, his finger dangerously close to the thin strap of your dress.

"What about it?"

"I do believe that was apart of our bet. If I won 7 Grammys, I get your phone number."

"I did make a promise about giving that to you, didn't I?" you said, your breathing slightly irregular from his actions.

"Yes you did..." he replied, his hand moving to the small of your back. "Since I ended up with 8 Grammys I think I'd like to get your phone number and have a dance with you at the after-party." he added, his voice full of charm.

You chuckled dismissively, raising an eyebrow, "Now why are you trying to add stuff?"

"Technically, I'm not.." Michael smirked, noticing the puzzled expression on your face. He continued, "Think of it as a way to celebrate all of my wins tonight."

"Oh I see. And dancing with me is your guaranteed way to commemorate your wins?"

"You catch on fast." he said, his grin widening. "How else will I be able to keep a beautiful woman like you interested?" He asked honestly, his hand remaining on your back, caressing your skin with his thumb.

You chuckled at his question, amused. "That depends— do you think you can hold my attention beyond just one song?"

"Oh I can assure you," he smirked, "I'm hoping for an encore."

"Are you really?"

"Absolutely, I'm good for it and by the end of the night, you'll be begging for more than just a dance with me."

"Well.." you chuckled at his bold claim, "I hate to burst your bubble but.." you lean forward as if you were about to kiss him. Michael's eyes widened slightly in surprise that you leaned forward, clearly anticipating a kiss. His heart quickened a bit as you were now centimeters away from his lips, you whisper. "I'm not interested." You leaned back to sit in your seat properly.

Michael watched you pull away and sat there, stunned. Just when he had you all figured out, here you go throwing him a curve ball. "You're not interested? C'mon girl stop playing.."

"I have a boyfriend." You smirked, savoring his reaction.

Michael blinks his eye a few times, his expression shifting to shock as your words settled in. He leaned back in his seat, visibly irritated by your admission. "A boyfriend? You have a boyfriend? You didn't think to share that information earlier?"

"A woman never kisses and tells.."

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head in annoyance. "Of course you wouldn't.. " he huffed in frustration before adding, "You're enjoying this, aren't you? Playing with me, knowing that you're out of reach— it's some kind of twisted game you're playing, huh?"

"Depends on if you can keep up long enough to stay in the game." You tilted your head before you continuing, "That is, if you can last that long..." You smirked as you said that. The double entendre was evident in your suggestive tone.

Though you do have a boyfriend, let the record show— you'd risk it all for Michael.

Michael chuckled as he caught onto your innuendo loud and clear. He shook his head slightly before leaning in closer again, determined not to back down from your flirtatious challenge, "Baby, you have no idea how long I can last.." he spoke lowly, a hint of sultriness lingered as much as his eyes did on yours.

"Hmm, we'll see about that." you say, challenging him as you slowly get up from your chair.

Michael watched you rise from your seat, taking this as a sign you were about to leave. His eyes were fixated on your body in fascination. He exhaled a breath, his voice laced with tension as he spoke. "And where do you think you're going?"

"Home." You said casually as you reached under your seat to retrieve your coin purse.

He leaned back in his seat frustratedly but his eyes stayed locked on you, "Home? So soon? We were just getting started.. you can't leave me hanging like this." He complained.

You took a step forward to stand before him, leaning in as you grabbed the armrests of his chair, your gaze locked directly on his face. "I can and I will." You smirked before turning your attention to Brooke. Lifting your hand, you showed her your palm, a clear indicator that if you wanted to have Michael eating out of the palm of your hand, you could— and you did. She grimaced at your gesture, causing you to smirk before flipping your palm and fluttering your fingers in a playful wave.

"Have a good night.." you spoke smoothly as you stood up straight. You walked away, leaving them both sitting there. You made a lasting impression on one of the biggest stars in the world. Talk about an ego boost. Confidence in your stride, you exited the auditorium with a smile on your face.

Though you hated to leave, you knew that you had no choice. As a seat filler, you weren't allowed to go to the after-party anyway.

Michael was stuck to his chair, watching you leave, his eyes following your every move. Despite your unwillingness to give in, he couldn't help but admit that you'd managed to capture his attention completely. You intrigued him in ways that he didn't know were possible and he knew that he had to see you again, no matter what.

#wow.

2222bad

ALL I DO IS THINK OF YOU

[one day, michael takes the long way home to see you] | 1.6k words

WARNINGS: black reader, fluff, sweetness!

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