⋆˙⟡ KILLING ME SOFTLY WITH HIS WORDS
pt. 2 of the lady in my life
michael jackson x reporter!reader
⸝⸝summary : michael jackson is working on a project and was in need of a journalist that wouldn't "flatter" him— which makes you the perfect person for the job. but somewhere between tense interviews, late nights, and quiet conversations, his words start getting to you in ways they never should’ve— slowly killing you softly without either of you realizing it.
⸝⸝tags : enemies/friends to lovers, slow burn, yearning, close proximity
⸝⸝a/n : i know i said side stories (but i kinda got a carried away a bit...) so this is a long continuation of the the lady in my life. anyways pls enjoy ts took a shit ton <3
after a major award cycle, michael's team decides to do a project— specifically a behind the scenes documentary and a global press rollout for a new album era.
not a scandal piece, something controlled, humanizing, and tightly managed.
and michael wanted a journalist involved, someone credible— not just promotional media, since the public is still skeptical after everything. and oddly, he insisted on someone who 'won't' flatter him.
guess who he recommended ?
at first you were hesitant because it was too close and too politically sensitive. it would tie you more publicly to him.
but your editor frames the whole thing differently,
"this is the biggest controlled-access story in music right now. if you don't take it, someone less careful will."
that made you agree (reluctantly), but strictly professionally. no bias, no involvement, and just reporting.
unlike interviews, this project puts you both in unscripted proximity.
you had to travel with michael's team for the first day of shooting of the documentary.
the bus is quieter than usual, as most people are asleep already since the place was far. dim lights, soft engine noise, and someone snoring softly somewhere in the back.
you sat alone near the middle row, flipping through your notes with tired eyes, pen tucked between your fingers.
then michael suddenly drops into the seat beside you, naturally.
you don't even look up, you already knew who it was.
"you do know there are twenty empty seats in here."
you just sighed softly as you continued writing.
he settles too comfortably, stretching his arms slightly while you work.
"the kind you don't need to see."
he looks over your shoulder anyway,
and you immediately closed your notebook.
he laughs under his breath at your failed attempts of you ignoring him. mostly because he keeps glancing at you every thirty seconds like a bored child.
"you rehearsed for 9 hours straight earlier."
after a while, the teasing fades naturally.
and slowly, you start losing the fight against exhaustion. your writing becomes messier, your blinking was showing, and at one point, your pen slips from your fingers entirely.
michael noticed it immediately,
"you almost wrote on yourself."
you barely glanced at the ink mark on your wrist.
few more minutes pass as your head tips lightly against the window, finally asleep.
michael looks at you for a second before smiling softly. carefully reaches over and adjusts the edge of your cardigan so it doesn't slip off your shoulder.
gentle enough not to wake you.
the bus hits a rough patch in the road, your head shifts automatically— and lands against his shoulder instead.
he freezes, completely. like if he moves too fast, the moment will disappear.
someone from the crew notices from across the aisle and smirks at him. michael glares at them silently till they look away again.
and somewhere in the middle of the ride, while everyone else sleeps around them, he spends almost the entire trip smiling to himself like an idiot.
the rehearsal room is freezing
michael has now repeated the same dance section ten times because he wasn't satisfied with one step nobody else noticed.
you sat on the floor near the mirrors, watching while taking down notes for the documentary voiceover ideas.
you were patient at first, then annoyed— then you were actively judging michael.
you lowered your notebook.
"y'know normal people would've accepted that take already."
"normal people don't make history."
the dancers nearby start laughing instantly.
michael shakes his head and points at you dramatically.
"she doesn't respect the process."
he walks over, sweaty and mildly offended, while grabbing orange juice.
"you think this is easy?"
"i think you're a perfectionist with control issues."
"you've been meaner today."
without another word, he grabs a jacket from a chair and tosses it towards you.
it lands directly in your face.
the dancers laugh harder.
you pull down the jacket slowly.
"...did you just threw it?"
"you said you were cold."
"i didn't say to throw it at my face."
you complained, but you still put it on anyway. and you immediately regret it because it smells like him.
very distracting for you, unfortunately.
it was late, the kind where everyone's personalities soften around exhaustion.
you sit down on the hotel hallway floor outside your room because your keycard stopped working.
it was the third time this week. it was not your day.
you heard footsteps approaching, and you don't bother looking up.
"if you laugh, i'm killing you."
michael's voice immediately answers,
"i wasn't going to laugh."
"...i was going to ask why you're sitting on the floor."
you look up slowly, he was holding snacks from the vending machine— and wearing sunglasses indoors for absolutely no reason.
"you've been locked out three times this week."
"that's not how doors work."
he sits beside you against the wall without hesitation, long legs stretched out casually.
for a while, you both just sit there quietly. passing snacks back and forth, talking about nothing important.
you lean your head back against the wall and close your eyes briefly.
"you've worked hard today."
you open your eyes again and look at him, really look at him— and notice how exhausted he actually seems underneath all the energy.
without thinking much, you lean sideways slightly and rest your head against his shoulder.
he goes completely still, surprised. caught him off guard in the softest possible way.
you realized seconds too late and started pulling away immediately.
but michael's voice stops you.
after a moment, he carefully rests his head lightly against yours, too.
they've been stuck waiting for setup changes for almost two hours, and everyone is losing sanity slowly.
michael is lying down dramatically across an entire couch.
meanwhile you were trying to work— keyword, trying.
he keeps throwing crumpled paper towards your notebook.
"you haven't landed a single shot."
another crumpled paper ball hits the floor, nowhere near you.
you stared at him, then calmly threw one back.
directly into his forehead on the first try.
and michael genuinely looks betrayed.
"...you've been waiting to do that."
five minutes later, it became a full war, and the dancers were choosing sides.
paper was flying everywhere.
michael was laughing so hard he nearly fell off the couch.
meanwhile, you were trying to escape around the couch.
and he catches your wrist while laughing, not letting you escape. falling off the couch and bringing you with him.
you both landed on the floor, laying on top of him and resting in-between his legs— while michael instinctively holds your waist.
suddenly you two are too close,
and neither lets go immediately.
both of you are still laughing, breathing slightly harder from laughing— not aware that everyone pauses strangely after that.
"ya'll gon' kiss or what?"
someone loudly yells, and the moment dies instantly.
you suddenly throw another crumpled paper directly at the dancer's face.
michael nearly chokes laughing beside you.
this day had dragged longer than expected— filming delays, equipment problems, the crew slowly losing patience one technical issue at a time.
by the dinner break finally happened, everyone was scattered around the studio.
meanwhile you were alone near one of the backstage storage rooms.
you were busy flipping through old production notes for the documentary that you barely touch your food.
specifically the early years— the jackson 5 era.
"you're working during dinner again."
"you're avoiding rehearsal notes, so technically i'm carrying this production."
"right." he says sarcastically.
he drops into the seat beside you, holding a glass of orange juice and a bag of chips.
"what are you looking at?"
"your old pictures from the jackson 5."
you said, laughing quietly at how cute his hair was when he was a kid.
"you had the biggest afro."
"what? you were cute and loud."
"you should've stopped at cute."
you ignored him, and flipped to another page.
"my mom used to play your records all the time."
michael's brows lift immediately.
you could've stopped there, but you answered honestly anyway— and you immediately regret it.
because he now looks way interested.
"you're making this embarrassing."
"you sound very excited about this."
he grins openly now, actually delighted about it. which makes it worse for you.
"don't ignore my question."
"i liked 'i want you back', happy?"
"that's everybody's answer."
"well excuse me for being correct."
he laughs softly under his breath— then, after a pause.
that question catches you completely off guard.
you narrow your eyes immediately
michael was very much invested.
he leaned towards you slightly, waiting for your answer; this somehow matters deeply to him.
and because you enjoy ruining his peace,
you bite back a smile immediately.
"that's generally how names work."
he looks personally offended now.
"you were tiny and yelling."
you bursted out laughing at how he was reacting to this, while he felt betrayed.
"jackie?" he repeats again, like he still can't process it.
"i thought you were gonna say me!"
"sounds like a you problem."
he lean back against his chair dramatically.
"wow, this is devastating."
you were laughing, the kind that makes your shoulder shake slightly.
despite him pretending to be wounded, he can't stop staring at you.
he loves making you laugh, always has.
then he notices something near the folder, old tickets tucked between pages.
his expression changed slightly, it was softer now.
your laugh fades a little.
he picks one up carefully.
his voice was quieter now, surprised.
"they were important to me."
you were suddenly feeling shy about it, realizing too late that you may have accidentally shown him a side of yourself nobody really sees.
"you've been watching me longer than i thought."
he said softly, almost to himself.
that line lands strangely between both of you—not heavy, just intimate in a way neither fully addresses.
so naturally, you ruin it immediately,
"don't let it get to your ego, jackie was still my favorite."
he groans loudly while you laugh again beside him.
it's late, the studio emptied almost an hour ago except for a few crew members cleaning somewhere down the hall
you were still awake in one of the editing rooms, surrounded by messy notes, half-finished transcripts, and a cold coffee you forgot to drink.
you were irritated, tired, and burned out. you were currently losing an argument with a machine that keeps eating videotapes.
you groaned loudly, leaning back against the chair dramatically.
"I'm quitting journalism!"
"you say that twice a week."
you jumped a bit and looked up immediately.
seeing michael standing in the doorway wearing rehearsal clothes and holding a cup of tea as he materialized there specifically to annoy you.
he walks into the room smiling softly.
you focus on turning back toward the tapes,
"i had three interviews before filming today."
"you skipped lunch again."
"you looked dizzy earlier."
"now you sound like my doctor."
he laughs quietly under his breath before sitting beside you at the editing desk, close enough that your shoulders almost touch.
you notice, and usually it wouldn't affect you this much.
"you work too hard," he says after a while.
"that doesn't mean i'm wrong."
you shrug tiredly while rubbing your eyes.
"people expect things from me."
he goes quiet for a second after that before he softly replies.
"you know, you don't always have to prove yourself to deserve being in a room."
michael didn't know it, but that sentence hits you so unexpectedly, you stop moving entirely.
he keeps talking casually, not realizing what he just did to you emotionally.
"...you act as if you stop working for one second, people will stop taking you seriously."
you quietly shift your gaze at the desk, because that was painfully accurate.
you never told him about it, not directly. it's the fact he noticed it on his own.
he glances sideways at you, now softer.
"you don't have to earn kindness all the time."
you felt something physically tighten in your chest. it was the first time someone talked to you carefully, observantly, like he's been paying attention quietly for a long time.
"you rehearse speeches beforehand, or does this just happen naturally?"
he laughs softly again, before reaching over and sliding your untouched coffee farther away from you.
replacing it with the tea he brought.
"you'll get sick if you keep drinking coffee."
"...you sure that tea isn't poisoned?"
"is that how you really think of me?"
you bite in a laugh before you quietly mutter.
your voice is much quieter, less guarded.
he leans back in his chair slightly, watching you with that calm, unreadable softness he gets
then casually, he says something that ruins your entire week.
"i just don't like seeing you run yourself into the ground."
it was simple, no flirting, and no hidden intention. just honest concern.
it affects you more than any compliment ever could because he means it entirely.
you stare down at the tea instead, and suddenly couldn't look at him properly anymore.
trying to ignore how warm your chest feels, or how much his words linger.
it was killing you softly.
he watched you quietly, unaware, then softly.
"there's that face again."
you look up immediately, tilting your head at him.
"the face you make when you're thinking too much."
"i do not have the face for that."
"yes you do. you're very easy to read."
that line stays in your head days after, unfortunately.
‘if he reads me that easily... what happens if he notices how much i’m starting to love him?’
after that night, you weren't in full denial anymore— you were aware of your feelings, and it scared you.
it's not because you think loving him is embarrassing, but because if you admit it, everything between you two will change.
and you value what you already have too much to risk it.
at first, you thought you were very subtle at avoiding him— you weren't.
standing behind the crew members instead of being beside him, pretending to be busy, and leaving immediately after the shoot.
but michael was so used to your presence that he noticed your absence immediately.
he keeps seeking you out unconsciously, trying to understand what changed.
the editing room is crowded and loud as crew members move everywhere.
you were leaning over a desk reviewing notes when you heard michael somewhere behind you.
you keep your eyes on the papers, pretending you didn't notice him approaching.
then suddenly, a warm hand settles lightly against your waist. it was gentle but brief.
enough for him to guide himself past the narrow space behind your chair.
"sorry," he murmurs softly.
you knew michael had been casually affectionate of you, and back then, you didn't really think much of it.
but it was different for you now, every nerve in your body lights up instantly.
your brain immediately spirals,
'why does it feel different now?'
'does he do that with everyone?'
he glances back at you and catches you still standing there, strangely quiet.
he narrows his eyes slightly because you definitely did not look fine.
they're reviewing documentary narration drafts in one rehearsal studio.
you're sitting down on the floor with papers around you, while michael leans over from behind the couch, reading your notes upside down.
"this sentence sounds mean."
"it's called journalism."
moments like this felt easy and natural, but now you're hyperaware of everything.
he leans closer to read another line, too close.
close enough you can feel his warmth against your shoulder, enough that his voice drops softer near your ear when he laughs quietly at something you wrote.
"you really said i was difficult?"
"i didn't say you weren't, just said you were annoying."
you try focusing on your notes, but keep failing because all you can think about is how close he was that you can smell his perfume.
then he points at a line on the paper and accidentally brushes his fingers against yours.
your hand jerks on instinct
michael notices, pull back a little.
and now he sounds confused again, because lately you react to him like he's doing something wrong.
one week, things were good again. it was easy, you laughed around him— staying beside him between takes, and looking at him directly when you guys argued.
then suddenly, you start slipping away from him slowly, and he feels it immediately.
he thought he was imagining it at first, but then you stopped waiting for him after rehearsals, stopped teasing him, and barely looked at his eyes during conversations anymore.
despite all the fame and confidence michael has onstage, he has never handled emotional distance well from people he loves.
especially when it came to you.
but michael was stubborn, instead of giving you space, he started trying harder.
one afternoon during production meetings, you deliberately choose a seat across the room.
he walks in late, glances around once, then walks past multiple empty chairs and sits directly beside you.
you went still instantly, michael notices.
"you're blinking abnormally fast."
"the air in here is very dry."
normally you would've teased him longer than that. but now you stare at your papers instead.
he watches you quietly for a second, confused again.
because lately every conversation between you two feels like he walked in halfway through an argument he doesn't remember having.
in the middle of the meeting, he leans towards you slightly, lowering his voice.
your head snaps immediately at him,
"i'm not mad at you, michael."
"you've been acting weird lately."
"i just wanna focus on work, that's all."
you look away again, biting the inside of your cheek.
"you don't even look at me anymore," he says quietly.
your heart aches when he sounds genuinely hurt.
before you can answer, the meeting continues again.
but he keeps glancing towards you throughout the meeting like he was waiting for you to go back to normal.
and you hated yourself for not being able to.
after the meeting ended, you stood up quickly and walked out of the room before he followed you.
you glance around to see if there was any sign of him, sighing in relief when you didn't.
then suddenly, turning your head to see michael in-front of you— leaning to level with your height, his face was so close to yours that both of your foreheads were almost touching.
you jumped, holding your chest as you catch your breath.
"jesus—michael! when did you—?"
you licked your lips, your eyes shakily glancing at his.
"i told you i'm not. why are you so stubborn today?"
"you ran away after the meeting ended."
"okay then you walked very fast."
you held in a laugh, smiling slightly.
michael notices it immediately, his face lights up like he accomplished something important.
"there she is," he says softly.
the smile disappears from your face instantly,
because the way he says it is so gentle.
michael's expression falls a little after that, again confused. again trying to understand why you keep pulling away every time he gets close emotionally.
"then why do you keep leaving?"
your throat tighten immediately. you didn't know how to explain,
'i leave because staying near you feels impossible now.'
but instead, you shrug it off slightly,
"you're imagining things."
he says, certain. then after a pause,
that ruined your composure internally, and you start to walk away.
but he didn't stop, he keeps up and walked right with you and keeps going softly.
"you don't wait for me anymore, you leave rooms when i walk in, and every time i get close to you lately... you look scared."
you stopped walking, you glance down to the floor.
"did i lose you somewhere?"
then you hear him laughing quietly to himself.
"...i miss you even when you're standing right in front of me lately."
you finally cracked, and finally looked up at him.
michael stops immediately, his brain short-circuits for a moment, and regrets saying it when he sees your expression.
his voice softens instantly,
and damn him for sounding so worried. his voice is so gentle, so him.
"you can't say things like that."
'because it's hard to not love you more every time you open your mouth.'
but instead, you say quietly.
"you make this impossible."
you shake your head immediately.
"you keep saying things, and then you run away."
"that's because you keep looking at me like that."
you look at him helplessly for a second before gently pushing him away, so you don’t completely lose yourself.
you said it too fast and sharply.
he looks genuinely hurt now, looking at you with glassy eyes.
and immediately you felt awful, because none of this is his fault.
it was all you said before leaving.
the premiere feels unbearable that day.
after your last conversation with michael, the look on his face when you snapped at him for trying to follow you.
that expression stayed with you, you hated yourself for hurting him.
everyone is celebrating the documentary. the lights, the interviews, and the applause after the screening ends.
but underneath it all sits one awful truth that neither of you wants to acknowledge.
because after tonight, it's over.
no more filming days, no more waiting for him between takes, and no more of him instinctively finding you first in crowded spaces.
and somehow that realization hangs heavier over both you than the premiere itself.
especially michael, because for weeks now he felt you slipping away through his fingers without understanding why.
some days you look at him like you want to say something, then other days you avoid him so carefully it actually hurts.
despite everything people think about michael, he has always loved deeply when he loves.
quietly, like he doesn't expect the love in return.
your makeup is already done when you arrive backstage. your hair was set, mic checked, and your notes in hand.
then the stylist shows you your dress.
because it's... not what you expected.
it was elegant, expensive, and it fit like it was made for you specifically.
but the back dips lower than you're used to, just enough to make you suddenly aware of posture in a way you normally don't.
"this is what we're going with?" you ask, half-joking.
the stylist just nods like it's obvious.
you almost backed out of the dress entirely.
but the stylist insisted, the crew begged.
even you had to admit the dress looked stunning.
you stare at yourself once more in the mirror.
"that's dangerous wording for my job."
by the time you step into the main hall, you are back in professional mode.
your eyes are scanning for guests to interview.
you become the reporter again instantly, that version of you is always the easiest to slip into.
what you don't notice right away is that people notice you— a lot more than usual.
but the only reaction that matters happens across the room.
michael looks up mid-conversation— and completely forgets what he was saying.
he freezes, and the room keeps moving around him.
all he sees is you walking through the entrance, looking devastating in a way that physically hurts him a little.
suddenly he understands something terrifying,
he's not surviving the end of this documentary.
not emotionally, not if it means losing this.
quincy jones beside him says something, but michael doesn't really hear it.
because you're smiling politely at someone else now, and the dress catches the light again, and all he can think is how you look like you belong to a life that he wasn't allowed to keep.
meanwhile, you notice him staring immediately— too openly.
throughout the night, you and michael get barely moments alone.
always interrupted, always pulled away by interviews, guests, or producers celebrating the success of the film.
but every time you cross paths, the tension grows heavier and sadder.
like both of you know something is ending tonight.
at one point during the photos, michael quietly appears beside you unexpectedly. close enough that his hand brushes lightly against the small of your back.
his touch was gentle, protective, and natural.
your heart nearly stops, especially when he leans slightly towards you and murmurs.
he pauses, actually searching for words.
but because you are terrified of what his sincerity is doing to you, you immediately seek out the scene.
that hurts michael more than you realize, because lately, you keep leaving emotionally every time he gets close.
after the screening ends, applause fills the theater.
everyone are emotional, crew members hugging and celebrating— already talking about future projects.
michael didn't process any of it, all he could think about was you.
tomorrow he won't see you anymore, he won't see you waiting on set, and loses the best part of his day.
and suddenly the thought becomes unbearable.
he quietly slips away from the afterparty. longing for air and silence— a second where he doesn't feel like he's about to lose someone important.
you catch him standing alone near the ballroom entrance.
watching you, he wasn't subtle about it either.
and suddenly, you mustered up the courage, because realizing that if you leave tonight without saying anything is not worth losing him.
you see michael quietly slip away toward the balcony, so you follow him this time.
the night air hits cool against her skin the second you step outside.
michael stands by the railing overlooking the city lights below.
his hands were in his pockets, and his shoulder was tense.
he hears you immediately and turns around.
for a second, you both were silent.
he tries smiling at first, but it barely lasts.
that hurts you more than you expected.
then silence settles again, soft music from inside muffled behind the doors, and the city glowing below them.
"i thought i ruined things."
your chest immediately tighten.
"then why does it feel like i lost you?"
God. that question again.
you turn to look away toward the skyline, because you genuinely don't know how to explain yourself without sounding broken, selfish, or sounding like a coward.
he watches you carefully, still gentle, waiting patiently for you to speak. even though after all the confusion you put him through.
you laugh softly under your breath, but there wasn't humor in it.
"y'know what the worst part is?"
"i don't even know when it happened."
he goes still, as you grip the railing tighter.
"i just woke up one day, and suddenly every little thing you did mattered too much."
"the way you say my name."
his eyes don't leave your face now.
"the way you remember everything about me."
"and how much of a compassionate and genuine person you are."
your voice weakens slightly
"i kept trying to act normal because i thought i would eventually get over it."
his expression softens completely, hearing you physically hurts and heals him at the same time.
"so instead i started leaving first."
you finally look up at him, your expression painfully honest.
no smart remarks, no sarcasm, just vulnerability you normally hide from everyone.
he looks at you, surprised.
you shake your head quickly,
"not in that way, not like that."
"you make me lose control."
"i like knowing where i stand with people. i like being composed and rational. i like being able to leave before things get too real."
your voice cracks slightly there.
michael's face changes completely after that, because he finally understands now.
"you got too close," he says softly.
"you got past every wall i had without even trying."
he steps closer then, slow and careful, like he was approaching something fragile.
"and you thought i didn't feel it too?"
that makes her breath catch.
he shakes his head slightly, almost disbelieving.
"i thought you were pulling away because you stopped caring."
the answer comes immediately, too honest to take it back.
michael looks overwhelmed by that, months of confusion are unraveling all at once in front of him.
"i think i loved you long before things got bad."
your eyes lift immediately.
he steps even closer now, enough to feel the warmth radiating from him.
"i just didn't realize how much until you were the only thing that still felt real."
and that completely breaks whatever composure you had left.
your eyes water instantly, glistening under the city lights.
it wasn't dramatic, just months of relief, trying not to drown in feelings alone.
he reaches for you carefully, then with warm hands, reaches against your waist gently.
gentle like he's afraid you'll disappear again.
for the first time, you didn't pull away from his embrace. instead you laugh softly through the tears.
"you really waited till the documentary ended to say this?"
he lets out a breathless laugh, too.
"i was trying hard to be respectful."
you both are smiling now, small shaky smiles full of exhaustion and relief and too much emotion all at once.
not out of pain, just full.
his gaze drops briefly to your lips before lifting back to your eyes.
giving you time, giving you a choice, and that tenderness alone almost ruins you again.
so this time you close the distance first,
and leaning towards a soft kiss.
your arms wrap around his shoulder instinctively.
it was soft, careful— months of tension finally unravelling slowly between them.
he exhales quietly against your mouth, like he couldn't believe this was happening.
his hands are on your waist, pulling you closer to him, caressing your smooth back.
and suddenly the kiss deepens with all the emotion you both have been holding back for far too long.
you gasp quietly against the kiss, as he softly groans— gazing down at you with longing eyes.
when you both finally pull apart, neither moves away. breathing unevenly.
he smiles first this time, small and warm.
and this time, you don't leave.
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