Hi!!! Sorry to put any pressure or weight on you but I absolutely died reading "Clueless" and frankly I haven't been able to stop thinking about it this entire time❤️❤️❤️❤️ if you can find it in your heart or time, could you please consider writing Michael's POV because I thought of it and couldn't stop laughing my ass off because what do you mean your girlfriend who you've been so loving with the entire time suddenly ups and says "it's not like you're my boyfriend" 😂😂😂😂😂 like he had tears but it's so freaking hilarious. No pressure if you don't want to though. I just thought you could add in stupid things he did like casually flirting with other women in front of her (Michael was a menace irl) and she took that as a sign of indifference from him. I love you and you're the freaking best🔥🔥🔥🔥
confused | michael jackson
- summary: based on my previous oneshot, clueless! michael likes making you jealous, but he's confused as to why you never react the way he wants you to.
word count: 5.5k
warning: SO MUCH SHORTER than the main, also silliness (multiply it by a hundred), mentions of diana ross, mentions of smoking, mike and reader are lowkey idiots, also they have creeps bothering them (very briefly), will feature PRE-relationship and POST-relationship , failed attempt at mild angst , this is rushed ngl I'm a rusher
* no usage of y/n, michael refers to reader as 'baby', 'sweetheart'
author's note: HELLO, lovely lovely request from a lovely person! I'm so, so happy you loved the first oneshot, and this is the very first time I've written a second part (-ish) so obviously, it needs some work! I'm truly sorry if this doesn't go the way you want it to, I just went ahead with the flow! I really do appreciate your wonderful request, AND I HOPE THIS DOESN'T DISAPPOINT YOU TOO MUCH!!! So sorry for the long wait, please forgive me. Thank you for requesting, I love you a whole lot ♡
Also this one is relatively shorter, and is mainly from Mike's perspective and inner confusion with Reader's behaviour, but I tried toning up the silliness!!! (woman's bazillionth attempt at writing comedy)
> And also, HOLY COW, you guys, the amount of attention Clueless has been getting! I'm genuinely so shocked and happy that a lot of people seem to like it, thank you so so much! I love love love the Tumblr community!
+++ not proofread, and also funnily enough someone thinks ai writes my fics so for my sake, i do hope to god there's a bunch of typos bc apparently that's the only sign of being a human writer
+++ english isn't my first language!! and you should note i am not a professional writer by any means! regardless, i hope this is enjoyable for you all
taglist! ; @jaafarsbaby @mbafi @umafanficdoidaqualquer @sebbysbaby @universesweetheart
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•
1981; before.
Michael really couldn’t tell what you’re thinking sometimes.
If people were to ask him, ‘Hey, how close are you with that girl?’, he’d immediately answer without any hesitation; “Oh, real close, I know everythin’ that goes on in her head and vice versa. She’s my girl for a reason!”
But truthfully speaking? He’s ashamed to say that sometimes, and very rarely are those times, he’s unable to read you like a book. He is unable to navigate your way of thinking.
Just like right at this moment.
Because why is this woman whom he doesn’t even know currently throwing herself onto him, and meanwhile, you, who’s his actual woman, the love of his life and hopefully the future mother of his children, are giving little to zero– Wait, no, definitely zero– reaction?
They were at someone’s penthouse apartment, he couldn’t remember which of Marlon’s friends that offered the place, for an afterparty to celebrate yet another successful show of the Triumph Tour. Michael didn’t really want to come, he was tired, he was cranky and all he wanted to do was lay in bed with you next to him.
Flitting his eyes towards you, he feels a slow and heavy frustration building up from within. It doesn’t seem to make sense why he’s there at the party instead of a bed, and why this rando girl is trying desperately to close their distance instead of, well, you!
“So, when’s the next show?” the girl asks through the music, deliberately hanging onto his arm for dear life as the dance floor shakes with inebriated people. To be fair, it was more of a really spacious living room with a dance circle on it. So, he could tell everyone is definitely at least a little bit intoxicated when nobody bats an eye at the faux tiger carpet they’re getting their groove on.
Michael sniffs, eyes not straying too far from where you are, sitting on the nearby love seat with a drink in your hand and a cigarette in the other. He knows you’re not even tipsy. You have this rule where you refuse to have a single drop when in a public setting, especially in a crowd of strangers. That drink is most likely just Coke you poured into a glass, as per your words, ‘to fit in better’. That cigarette in your hand, however, is definitely for your sole enjoyment. Smoking is the only thing that keeps you from hightailing out of there due to overwhelming anxiety. One of these days, he’s gonna tell you off about that bad habit of yours. Sure, it's normal and he'd tried it himself, but from what he's seen lately, you've been going way too crazy with it. Despite that, he understands why you need it tonight, because the party is in full swing but you’re really only there to keep Michael company.
Well, guess he wrongfully assumed that, he sulks to himself silently.
He doesn’t even know why you gave in to Marlon’s persuading, borderline peer pressuring in his opinion, to come to the afterparty. Everybody knows Michael would rather chill after gigs, especially if you’re in town with them.
“But babe, why? We really don’t have to,” he almost whines as they get into the back of his car.
“Hush,” you say, “I wouldn’t want to spoil your fun. The show was so, so great, Mike. You have to celebrate somehow.”
Michael scoffs, shaking his head, “Uh, yeah, I’d probably prefer to celebrate it with you, baby.”
You let out a laugh and softly pat his arm, “While I’m flattered, I think you need to be cutting up some rug, honey. You’ve been cooped up with me too many times, I’m afraid these girls won’t know what they’re missing.”
“What’s the big deal? I’m comin’ home with you anyway,” he says bluntly. You could only shrug with a small smile before the rest of the car ride is filled with a less than comfortable silence.
Of course, he knew he was being a little rude. As mentioned before, he gets tired and cranky after shows. He also doesn't really care for what you said to him. What other women could be missing? Why should he care about other women? He always notices whenever you make your throwaway comments about how ‘that girl is your type, Mike’ or ‘oh, she’s staring right at you, Mike’, as if he’s not with you.
Okay, so maybe he’s not really… with you, with you. But he’s sort of with you, that’s for damn sure! And it’s not like you’re unaware. Yeah, you haven’t really talked about it with him, but he knows to let nature take its course, and let things go with the flow. He’s gonna marry you someday, everybody practically knows that. Including you. Which is why he’s completely blindsided during the times when you pull away or act unbothered whenever a girl tries to flirt with him. Come on, don’t you have at least a little of a jealous bone in your body?
He can’t help but think it’s either you’re so jealous that you don't even want to entertain anything in fear of hurt, or you’re so secure about the relationship that you know nothing is worth the time and emotion, because at the end of the day, you’re his girl and nobody else is. The smarter part of him hopes it's the latter, knowing it's the better choice. The smaller, selfish part of him wishes it's the former. The thought of you being jealous? It brings some kind of ugly thrill to Mike, and he'd really like to not think of it much.
“Hello? Michael, did you hear me?”
Snapping out of his thoughts and realizing he still hasn’t answered the girl’s question, Michael turns back to her after willing himself to drop his gaze from off of you. “Uh, we’re goin’ to Cali next week.” The girl gasps dramatically, gripping onto his arm more firmly.
“God, I just love California. The sun, the breeze, it’s all so perfect!”
He nods along to her words, already distracted by the sight of you taking another drag of your cigarette as some guy walks up to you. “Yeah… you ever been there?” He tries asking the girl, eyes burning a hole into the back of the man’s head.
“Oh, I’ve never been, I’ve just been dreaming of going there,” the girl in front of him smirks, shifting closer as she tucks some hair behind her ear. “Why?”
“That’s a shame, it’s just good weather this time of the year. Hope you get to someday, though. Sorry, if you’ll excuse me,” Michael hurriedly dismisses her, walking away.
He marches towards you, who’s currently looking at him with expressive eyes. You wanted the guy to leave. So, Michael is going to make that guy leave.
“C’mon, doll, just one dance?” The stranger practically begs as he holds out his hand, eagerly waiting for you to take it. A polite laugh escapes you, followed by a shake of the head.
“Sorry, I'm fine here dancing with my smoke, huh? Go on ahead though.”
The guy is stubborn, towering over you further. A sleazy grin carved on his face, he reaches out his hand towards your arm. Michael's blood begins to boil fast, and he quickly pulls you out of the loveseat, the drink on your hand splashing and spilling a few drops on the velvet carpet.
“Hey, she said no, chum. Back up,” Michael says firmly, arm slowly wrapping around your waist.
Mouth agape, the stranger raises his hands up in surrender as he takes a few steps backwards. “Cool, Mike. Cool.”
Both you and Michael stare at the man leaving with narrowed eyes. After a few moments, you flicker your gaze to him with a quiet smile.
Noticing where you've changed your focus to, Michael clears his throat. “What?”
“You called that guy a ‘chum’.”
Groaning, he shakes his head and feigns a glare towards you. “Lay off, baby.”
You laugh a little more before patting his shoulder, “I'm sorry. Thank you, Mikey. For coming to my rescue. I'm sorry you had to bail the girl earlier.”
“I told you,” he starts to furrow his brows, “It does not mat–”
“She's probably still here somewhere,” you interrupt him, head arching to analyze the room. “You two seemed to really hit it off.”
Michael silently stares at you with narrowed eyes, brows furrowing in confusion. Furrow, furrow, furrow. That's all he's been doing this whole night. He doesn't think you're joking in the least. You're actually trying to become his wingwoman tonight. The only time he's seen you this serious is when you play Connect Four with him.
“You serious?” he quietly asks, lips still curling with bafflement, almost disgruntlement.
“Mhm,” comes an absentminded hum from you. A brief glance towards him before you clear your throat, “Why? Didn't you two click?”
Michael continues to look at you, analysing carefully on every twitch of your face, every movement of your hands. Nothing seems out of place.
Boy, he's really losing his touch here. The tour can't end soon enough, Michael needs all the time he can get with you to be able to read you again.
Sensing your intensity, he feels an ire burn from the pits of his stomach. Fine, two can play at that game.
“Oh, yeah,” Michael says exaggeratingly, starting to groove to the music again. “That's one sweet honey… We got along, alright!” God, he hates what you could turn him into.
No, he internally scolds himself, this is all Dumb Immature Mike's doing here, not hers. Idiot.
Unbeknownst to Michael, your eye twitches just a little at his words. Forcing a grin on your face, you respond. “Alright, Mike! Far out. I think I saw her at the bar there, you should go and get her.”
He shrugs, gazing deeply at you. “Nah, I'm lettin’ her come to me.” How long are you gonna pretend to be cool about this?
“Ah, I see what you're up to,” you could only say with a laugh. Taking another drag of your cigarette. “Well, I'd better beat it or else it'll just slow your roll.”
‘Wait, no, you're not supposed to leave my vicinity!’ he thinks to himself, mild panic building up. Eyes widening, Michael grabs onto your arm, “Uh, no, baby, uh… Hey, that creep is probably still somewhere. I don't want you seein’ him.”
While glad he has that as an excuse, he's also very serious about it. If Michael sees that man anywhere even near you for the rest of the night, there is no promising that he'll maintain his good image. But you only scoff and smile at him softly, rendering him speechless from the sight of beauty.
“Okay, Mike, you might have been my knight in shining armour just now, but trust me, I can handle myself. I know how to punch. Jackie taught me, remember?”
Shaking his head, lips tilting slightly, “I still don’t understand why he offered you that lesson so randomly.”
“Dangerous times for a woman, Mike,” you could only shrug before glancing behind him. “Your six, coming this way.”
Michael turns around and sees the girl from earlier, eagerly waving as she struts up towards him. Oh, hell.
“Have fun,” he hears you whisper, face unreadable as you turn away, taking a big gulp from the glass of Coke in your grip.
“Hey, Mike!”
He throws an easy smile to the girl, grooving to the rhythm of the song. She follows his movements and within seconds, they're both dancing in sync. “Lost you for a bit there!”
‘Yeah, I wanted that to happen,’ Michael thinks sourly. Despite the inner thought, he paints a teasing grin on his face, “Well, you found me again, didn't ya’?” He hears a scoff from his right, and proceeds to ignore it because he's aware it's just you judging his line, leaning against the wall a little further than he'd like.
“Right on,” the girl moving in front of him bites her lip, grinning sweetly. Look, Michael has eyes. He knows the girl is pretty. Really pretty, even. But why on Earth would he care or even focus his sights elsewhere when the drop dead gorgeous woman of his is standing right there? That's what Michael doesn't understand.
The intentional plan of making you jealous is quickly falling apart, he thinks. Because the only reaction he managed to get out from you so far is just a mere scoff of disbelief over his flirting lines.
Just a blow to his ego, that woman.
Unaware, the girl continues to converse with him. Well, mostly one sided. It's just her talking, and Michael only being able to give one word responses before she moves on. Asking how the shows have been, if he's seen anything crazy from a fan, if he's ever brought a girl home after performing.
Less than comfortable things, to be frank.
“I see you're a busy man, huh?” The girl softly giggles, hand slowly brushing up his chest. Michael's head jerks back, eyes briefly widening before flickering towards you again.
You, who's now moved and standing at the corner, but still perfectly in his sight. The glass of coke is finished, already placed on the table next to you. Your hands take the time and effort to light up another cigarette, the flame glowing against your face like a halo of warmth, contrasting with the cool disco hues in the room. The downwards gaze on your face says nothing, almost out of the room and into another realm. You almost look upset. Is it because of him? Despite you being the one to initiate this game of being-the-wingwoman-to-your-sorta-boyfriend earlier? You confuse him so very much.
But he can't bring himself to be frustrated. Not when your usually sharp and all-seeing eyes are looking dull and dazed.
He needs to go back to the hotel. With you. Now. Michael needs to do everything he can to make that gloominess in your eyes disappear, be it ordering every dessert off of the room service menu or renting a Disney movie, he needs your eyes to… not be that way.
“Hey, sorry girl… listen, why don't you go and talk to this guy over here? I have to go.” Michael rushes away as he pulls a random man towards the girl, waving them off and ignoring the offended gasp from her.
“Baby?” he calls out softly, nudging your shoulder. You blink your thoughts away and give him a smile, and it pains him to see how much of a pretense it is.
“Hey, what are you doing here? Where's the girl?”
Michael shakes his head, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Can we go back to the hotel now?”
Gazing deep into your eyes, he feels the second your grip tightens against his hand even further. “O-of course… everything okay?”
“It'll be better once we're back in bed,” he only says as he pulls your interlocked hands up to kiss the back of yours. “I’ll get Bill, okay?”
You could only respond with a slow nod, pressing the butt of your unfinished cigarette into a make-shift ashtray. “Okay, Mikey.”
It takes him less than two minutes of stalking around the room, pulling you along, to find Bill sat in the corner, brows raising at the sight of you two.
“We're ready to leave, Bill,” Michael says.
It takes Bill less than four minutes to safely guide you and Michael down to basement parking level, and then to the car.
“I'm glad we're leavin’, those folks didn't know how to take a break,” Bill mutters.
The car ride itself should have taken just a little less than six minutes to the designated hotel, but for Michael, it feels like well over an hour.
He's cranky and tired, still. But now there's confusion added into the mix, with the whole You Acting Weird for the night. And with the stranger guy being a creep. And with the girl being sort of a creep too. All in all, tonight is going pretty bad, he must say.
The silences shared between you two have always been comfortable. He's never had to worry about awkwardness or any growing tension. Tonight, though, presumably caused by his silly doings as well as yours, Michael doesn't know what to do with you for the first time in his life.
Regardless, he's urged you to rest your head onto his shoulder during the car ride. You did so with no protest, and Michael's heart cools just a bit. You're still okay and safe, and you're with him just as you should be. Placing his arm atop your shoulders, he brings you closer and leaves a comforting kiss on your head.
Discreetly entering the hotel from the back entrance, the three of you made your way to his room, which you’d reluctantly agreed to share, as it made no sense for you to book a hotel room when his is already spacious enough. Throughout the whole journey, Michael’s arm never leaves your shoulder. His hold firm and reassuring, somehow assuming its position as a bridge between the quiet melancholy that’s bloomed from the both of you.
He tightens his grip when entering the elevator, nobody speaking a word. Bill only adjusts his hat as the elevator shaft moves up further. As you slightly lean into him, shifting more comfortably, that’s when he knows everything’s going to be alright. It’s just getting there that will take a slow night. But he can do that.
He’d do anything for you.
Bidding Bill goodbye, you and him enter the next door room wordlessly. Michael closes the door gently as you let out a deep sigh. “I’m beat. Are you good, Mike?”
“Mhm,” he replies, taking off his jacket as you walk into the bathroom, intentions of getting ready for bed. “Hey, you want room service? We still haven’t tried that panacotta we saw the other day.”
A hum echoes from inside the bathroom, “I don’t think I feel like dessert.” Michael frowns to himself, trying to remember the last time you said no to sharing food with him, and nothing recent comes to mind.
Taking off his jewellery, Michael sighs with relief as the heaviness he’s carrying somewhat lightens. “Okay… well what do you feel like falling asleep to? Cartoons? Musical?” he tries again.
“I think I’m too tired to watch anything,” you say, stepping out dressed in silk pajamas.
“Baby,” he says in an oh so soft voice. Walking up to you and holding your hands, swinging them slightly before pressing his forehead against yours. “Please? We don’t have to watch, just some background noise?”
You almost melt into his touch, lips tilting up ever so slightly. You’re rarely able to say no to him, especially whenever he’s soft and gentle. His doe eyes gazing deep into yours, you think for a moment before admitting defeat. “Dumbo.”
He perks up, grinning and kissing your cheek, “Dumbo it is.”
After a few minutes of calling the hotel to ask for the Dumbo VCR and him managing to persuade you to order the peach panacotta, the both of you finally settle into the king bed, tired eyes locking on the TV screen. Michael pulls you close, you laying your head atop his chest as he slowly strokes your back. “Baby?”
“Hm?”
“Are we okay?”
A beat of silence, before you raise your head to make eye contact with him, the look of concern making itself known on your face. “Of course we are. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know, just… you feel different tonight. I was scared somethin’ was wrong,” he says, stroking your jaw with his thumb. Shrugging timidly, you only give him a small smile. Small, but a real one nonetheless. That’s much better, Michael thinks. Much better than the fake one she’d dared to give him earlier.
“I’m sorry, Mikey. I’m just feeling a little low tonight, I guess.”
He shifts so that you and him are laying side by side with the same eye level, facing each other. Reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear, Michael whispers jokingly. “I told you we could’ve stayed in tonight.”
You sigh and throw him an upset look, “I just wanted you to have a good time.”
“Baby, all the best times I have are with you and you only,” Michael replies, without even a second of hesitation.
Covering the heat blossoming in your cheeks, you cuddle into the blanket further. “Mike, don’t…”
“Don’t what?” he asks, almost in exasperation.
“Just…” you trail off, deciding to leave the sentence hanging and instead averting your gaze to the TV. Holding his hand, you squeeze it a few times to distract him from trying to pester you to continue talking.
A deep sigh escapes him. Knowing just how low you're feeling tonight and how unable he is to navigate his way into comforting you, he feels useless. The one thing he could always do for you is to be emotionally reliable. So when this is the first time you've ever shut him away from your inner feelings and thoughts, he doesn't know what to do with himself.
“Michael?”
“Hm?” he hums and quickly looks back at you, desperate to do anything.
“I’m glad we left early,” you whisper, closing your eyes. Pressing yourself further against him, he knows you're almost out of it now, already falling asleep within the first fifteen minutes of the movie. Of course.
Michael's heart warms at your words. Flitting his eyes from the slope of your nose, down to your lips. Thumb stroking your cheek, his gaze lingers on your eyelashes and he tries to count them individually. Lightly pressing his lips against your forehead, he murmurs in response.
“I’m glad too, sweetheart.”
He might not know what's been really bothering you tonight, maybe he might not even know tomorrow either. Oddly enough, that doesn't bother him as much anymore. Not when the beautiful woman is in his arms. Holding him close, seeking his warmth. As long as Michael knows you feel alright with him, that's all he ever needs.
1982 ; after.
“Hey, honey! Come take a look at this!”
Michael snaps out of his memories when he hears you call from the front doorway. He stands up from the couch, stretching his limbs and replies, “What is it, baby? Do you need help?”
Walking up to where you're at, he hears the rustling of a plastic bag. “I thought you just went for a bank visit?” he asks, raising his brow. Finally setting his sights on you, a bright smile pops up on his face. Arms thrown out, he walks up for a hug before you tut at him, blocking with your hand.
Ignoring his offended look, you hold out the plastic bag in your grip. “Guess what I got!”
“Not playin’ when you just rejected my hug, baby,” Michael scoffs, genuinely pouting.
You slightly jump in excitement, giving him the widest grin he'd ever seen on your face. “No, c’mon, I'm being serious here!”
That contagious smile of yours will be his ruin, he thinks to himself. Shaking his head, Michael laughs and says, “Please tell me, you know I'm bad at guessin”!”
A soft squeal leaves your lips as you pull out the mystery item from the bag. In your hand, is a newly bought vinyl record of ‘Thriller’. His lips part in surprise, warmth radiating off of his cheeks. Eyes briefly widening in disbelief before he looks back up at you.
“Baby, why did you get this?” he begins to laugh heartily.
“I had to! It's your latest album!”
“You got the real deal right in front of you!”
“It's not the same, Mikey!” you nudge his chest. “Leave me be. It's only just been released, you know?”
Michael raises his brow, feigning cluelessness and wrapping his arms around the back of your waist. “Oh? No, I didn't know that. Just released, huh? He any good?”
You bite back a grin, “The best of the best.”
Smiling sheepishly, Michael leans down and pecks your nose. “You're the best. I can't believe you bought the damn album, I could've given you it for free. You didn't have to do that.”
“It's not the same,” you hush him. “It has to be this way. I want to buy all your records, Mike. You know that.” Dramatically holding up the record to cover the bottom half of your face, you blink your eyes repeatedly, gazing up at Michael. “Can we please listen to it?”
Letting out another laugh, Michael looks at you in amusement. “But baby, you've already–”
“Please, honey?” you ask him again.
Michael continues to stare at you.
He sighs deeply.
Twenty minutes later, you and him lay on the floor with the turntable in between. ‘Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’’ is almost reaching the second half of the chorus when Michael clears his throat. “Baby?”
“Hm?” you hum absentmindedly, eyes closing to focus on the track. You're laying on your stomach, arms crossed to pillow your chin. He smiles at your serenity, over the moon that you enjoy listening to his music to this extent. That's what he wants from his listeners. Someone who feels the music. And loves it to the fullest.
To know that you're his number one fan is his way of being blessed.
Asking aloud his inner thoughts, he looks at you curiously. “Do you remember that one night where we're at an after-party? That what's-his-name penthouse. It was after one of our shows last year.”
You briefly still, slightly opening one eye. The sight is almost comedic, with your brows furrowing in confusion, lips tilted in a certain way. “I think I do… why?”
Reaching out to intertwine his hand with yours, Michael softly questions. “By then… I’d already assumed we're half together. It was clear as day for me. But I wanted to ask you if… did you already know that you liked me then?”
A shy smile appears on your face. Shrugging, you mildly snort at the question. “I was in denial then. I had a feeling but I didn't acknowledge it.”
“Is that why you used to push so hard at me findin’ a girl for myself?”
Wincing lightly, you nod. “Yes… that was my way of trying to get over it. I'm sorry, it was unfair to you. I shouldn't have kept pressuring.”
“No, that's okay…” Michael says, “I just wish you had known.”
“Well, how could I have known? You flirt with everyone, Mike,” you tease.
“No, I don't!” he almost gasps in offense.
“Yeah, you do.” You shake your head, laughing as you start listing one by one. “That girl at the after-party. That other girl at another party. Diana, backstage during one of your shows. That woman with the red high cut go-go boots at Marlon's birthday. Diana, again, also at Marlon's birthday–”
“I was tryna’ make you jealous,” he weakly defends himself. Honestly, that was his intention. To make you jealous. Whether he admitted it to himself or not back then was another thing. But to hear you list out his foolishness back to back like that gives him a cold slap to the face.
God, he acted so immaturely.
“Michael, who did you think I was? Of course, I was jealous!” you scoff. “Come on, Diana Ross? You practically drool over her every time she's near.”
He's about to tease her back and defend himself, but sensing an underlying weight of insecurity in your words, he only grips your hand tighter and looks at you with soft adoration.
“I was a jerk. And dumb. Baby, you had nothing to worry about. Not a single thing. You were already the best person I knew, and you're my dream girl. Never been anyone else since I met you. I love you. I was stupid, but I loved you then too. Don't forget that.”
You shrug again, face relaxing. “Ah, well, it's kind of funny now when you think about it. I was completely clueless, but now when I know what you've always thought of me as… it's pretty silly.”
As you retell some of the stories of his… methods, Michael finds himself wincing sharper by the second.
•
“Oh wow, that's really cool,” Michael says offhandedly in response to the girl in front of him. She's talking about her skiing mishap but instead of listening, his eyes are pointedly staring at you, who's currently speaking with Jackie.
Dag, you're not even looking!
“I just told you I sprained my ankle on the way down,” she says before crosses her arms.
Wait, what did she say?
Michael’s eyes widen briefly before he waves his hands frantically, “Nah, nah, I meant that, uh, sure of course that’s terrible that you sprained your ankle! I just meant that, y’know… it’s really cool you go skiing. Really nifty trick you must’ve pulled to get that sprain.”
The girl observes him silently before a quirk of her lips appear. “Right?” she adds on with pride in her tone. “We should go skiing together sometime, when you’re free.”
“Aw man, I just don’t really like those type of activities,” he says with a regretful expression, selling hard. Not a moment later, he hears your laugh from across the room. Your specific laugh where it’s hard to control and cover, and you accidentally let it out way louder than socially acceptable.
What did Jackie say to make you laugh that hard? Man, he needs to just go back to Enid, that poor woman is probably jealous of all the laughing they’re doing.
Truth be told, Michael doesn’t let himself acknowledge that Enid was perfectly fine chatting with her friends nearby, and the only one that’s apparently been possessed by the ghost of green monster Envy, is in fact himself.
He clears his throat and loosely grabs the arm of the girl standing in front of him.
“H-hey, why don’t we go over there and have some of that chocolate fondue, huh?” Michael asks and without waiting for her response, he pulls her gently to move closer to where you and Jackie are conversing. The two are still oblivious to his presence, too focused in their talk. You nod along as Jackie speaks, and Michael holds back a scoff.
It’s not like Jackie ever has anything important to say, how could she possibly be that entranced?
He blinks out of his inner thoughts when the girl he pulled along in a very ungentlemanly manner holds out a skewer of strawberries. “You wanted the chocolate fondue?”
Apparently that catches your attention. Turning your head to face him and the girl, your brows raise questioningly. “Mike, they have a cheese one too. What are you doing? You don’t like chocolate.”
“But…” the girl sputters, narrowing her eyes at him, “But you said–”
“Hoo boy, y’know what, I think they’re callin’ for you, girl. Ain’t that your friends right there?” Michael says with a wide grin, gesturing for her to leave. To be fair, her friends were actually calling for her.
His heart feels like it’s singing. There you are, casually showing to people who’d notice just how much you know him as a person. You’d laugh it off and say it’s nothing, but for Michael? To have another person to know almost everything about you, and willingly speak up for mundane things in his life that even he wouldn't even dare to think of? You’re his perfect dream girl, and he believes this more and more as each day passes.
He needs to get out of here with you already. Anything with you is a million times more entertaining than this drag. Why is it that every time he intends to make you jealous, it’s very short lived and always concludes with him wanting all your time for himself?
•
“Those poor girls, Mike. They probably dig you a lot too back then.”
"No, they didn't."
"Mike, one girl was following you around like a lost puppy and you didn't even notice! You were too busy eyeing me— doing nothing by the way— at the back of the garden party."
The man in question raises his hands in mock surrender, "I was just tryin' to make sure you didn't break your no smokin' streak!"
"Hey, I already quit six months prior to that, you're just looking for an excuse! You should feel sorry for treating those girls like that, you're usually sweet," you lecture him jokingly.
“I do feel sorry, baby, but usually they just move on to the next available brother,” Michael says, snickering quietly. You tilt your head back and laugh at his words, scolding him for being too blunt.
“What? It’s the truth,” Michael says in defense, chuckling softer. “Besides… they probably already knew I was head over heels for you, anyway.”
The both of you exchange small smiles, not breaking eye contact as ‘Baby Be Mine’ starts playing. Michael shifts and leans in to kiss you, slow and sweet. Murmuring against your lips, he says, “I'm real glad you're mine.”
Giggling into the kiss, you swat at his arm before letting him roll you on the back and he hovers above you. Softly cradling his face, you whisper quietly, “I'm glad too, Mikey.”
