☘︎ synopsis: After accidentally kicking a football straight into your face, Seonghyeon is prepared to spend the rest of the week apologizing. You meanwhile, discovered that being mildly injured comes with some surprisingly enjoyable perks.
☘︎ genre: classmate!seonghyeon x classmate!reader, highschool!au, SLOWBURN.., fluff, teasing, kissing, mutual pining, footballplayer!seonghyeon, shy!reader, jealousy, lots of yearning, a lil angst in there, protective!seonghyeon, shy girl & popular guy or wtv, some cringeworthy scenes, introverted reader x extroverted? seonghyeon
☘︎ wc: 17,6k MASTERLIST
If anyone asked later, you would insist you saw the football coming.
You didn’t.
Not until it was already flying toward you at an alarming speed.
Then- well. Getting hit in the face tends to interrupt a person’s train of thought.
The impact came fast and hard, sending a sharp sting across your cheek. Your eyes watered instantly as the ball bounced away somewhere across the field, but you barely noticed. All you could do was stand there, blinking in disbelief.
Seriously? Out of everyone on the field, it had to hit you?
A mixture of gasps and laughter erupted around you. Heat rushed to your face immediately, not from the pain, but from the sudden realization that half the football field was staring at you. Great.
Nothing was more humiliating than becoming the center of attention because a football had smacked you directly in the face. You pressed a hand against your cheek, hoping the ground would open up and swallow you whole.
A pair of hurried footsteps pounded across the grass, growing louder by the second. Before you could even recover, someone came to a stop right in front of you. “Oh my god.”
You looked up, it was Seonghyeon. His eyes were wide, his face pale. Judging by his expression, you’d think he just witnessed a murder.
“Are you okay?” he asked immediately. You opened your mouth to answer.
“I am so sorry.” Then closed it again.
“I wasn’t aiming anywhere near you, I swear. I don’t even know how that happened. Are you hurt? Does your head hurt? Can you see properly?”
The questions came so quickly that you barely had time to process them. You just stared at him. It wasn’t really because your head hurt, more so because Eom Seonghyeon, the same Seonghyeon who usually looked far too cool and confident for his own good, looked like he was seconds away from having a complete breakdown. Finally, you sighed.
“I got hit by a football, not hit by a truck’’
‘’Some would argue that that’s worse.’’
Despite yourself, a faint laugh escaped you. The tension in Seonghyeon’s shoulders eased immediately at the sound of your laugh. For some reason, that made your stomach do something strange.
“You laughed,” he said, narrowing his eyes slightly.
‘’Hm?’’
“It means you’re okay.”
You blinked at him. Then, before you could stop yourself you let out a quiet groan and pressed a hand to your forehead. Immediately, panic returned to his face. “Wait. What happened? Are you dizzy?”
“…Very.”
The reaction was instant.
“Oh god.”
You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. “Very” was apparently the wrong thing to say. Seonghyeon looked seconds away from calling an ambulance.
“I might die, it could be because of you.” you said dramatically.
“It’s that bad?!”
Then he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
“Come on.”
“What?”
“I’m taking you to the nurse.”
You opened your mouth to protest, then closed it again. Actually…that didn’t sound so bad.
A few minutes later, you found yourself sitting on a chair in the nurse’s office while Seonghyeon hovered nearby like an anxious parent. The nurse had spent less than thirty seconds checking you over before declaring you completely fine. Unfortunately for Seonghyeon, he didn’t seem convinced.
“Are you sure?” he asked. The nurse looked mildly offended.
“Yes.”
“But the ball hit her pretty hard.”
“She’s fine.”
“How do you know?”
You looked away before either of them could see your smile. This was getting ridiculous. Yet you couldn’t remember the last time someone had worried about you this much. When the nurse finally sent you back out, Seonghyeon stayed beside you the entire walk down the hallway.
“You sure you’re okay? Do you want me to get you something? You’re not bruised, are you? Wait, let me check-” Before you could respond, Seonghyeon was already leaning closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he examined your cheek. You froze for a second, suddenly very aware of how close he was. After a moment, he leaned back with a small frown.
“I think it’s going to bruise.”
A few days have gone by, and Seonghyeon had somehow managed to become your personal caretaker. At first, it had been small things.
A bottle of water placed on your desk every morning with a bright smile that had you not doubt why everyone was charmed by him. When you carried many books, he’d take them out of your hands without hesitation. Everytime he would walk past you, he’d ask you this question:
‘’How’s your head today?’’ as if you were recovering from a life threatening injury. You have never met someone so commited. At some point you stopped correcting him because everytime he checked on you, his face softened in a way you have never seen before.
Before what happened in the football field, Seonghyeon had been one of those people you only knew from a distance. The kind of person everyone seemed to recognize. He wasn’t loud or constantly trying to be noticed, he never really had to. People gravitated towards him naturally.
Teachers liked him. Students liked him. Heck, even the security guard near the front entrance seemed happy to see him every morning. You had always thought Seonghyeon was cold and intimidating, which is why you have never spoken to him before. You weren’t exactly the type to walk up to people.
While Seonghyeon seemed to move through school as if he belonged everywhere, you preferred blending into the background. You kept your circle small, avoided unecessary attention and spent most of your time in your own world. The idea of starting a conversation with someone like Seonghyeon had never even crossed your mind. You were pretty sure he didn’t know who you were, or at the very least never bothered to pay any attention to you. Then he kicked a football directly into your face, now he wouldn’t leave you alone.
You really should’ve kept your mouth shut. It had been a completely harmless comment, a passing observation. Something you’d mutter to your friend while packing up your things after class.
‘’I’m hungry’’
You hadn’t asked anyone to get you anything, and you certainly hadn’t been talking to Seonghyeon. Yet somehow a few minutes later, he came back with a recognizable sandwich from the school cafeteria. You looked up in confusion.
“So..”
Before you could finish your sentence, Seonghyeon handed you the sandwich.
“You said you were hungry”
You stared at him, then the sandwich, then back at him.
“..oh.”
Very articulate. His expression didn’t change.
“Eat.”
“I was going to buy one after class.”
“Now you don’t have to.”
You opened your mouth to argue, then closed it again. Because the problem wasn’t the sandwich. The problem was that half the classroom had suddenly become very interested in what was happening. You could practically feel the stares.
The girls sitting by the window had stopped talking. Someone behind you let out a suspiciously amused laugh. Your friend looked seconds away from exploding. She had many questions, the look upon her face says it all. Heat immediately rushed to your face.
‘’Tha..nks.’’ You mumbled, taking the sandwich quickly in your hand while lowering your head. Seonghyeon was completely unaware of the crisis unfolding internally.
‘’Your head okay?’’
‘’Yeah..’
‘’You sure?’’
‘’Yes.’’
‘’Good.’’
The conversation really should’ve ended there. Instead, Seonghyeon remained standing next to your desk. Your face grew warmer. Why is he still here? Finally, after a few seconds he spoke again.
‘’Let me know if it starts hurting.’’
Then, as casually as he’d arrived, turned and walked away. You turned to your friend, you already knew where this was going.
‘’Y/n-‘’
‘’No.’’
‘’There’s like-clearly something going on that you’re refusing to inform me about.’’
‘’Like what?’’
Her expression changed, as if it was obvious and self explanatory.
Choi Haejin was the complete opposite of you. You were reserved, she was sociable and open. You were in your own world and Haejin was in everybody else’s, gathering information to gossip about later. Somehow this dynamic worked extremely well. You needed a friend to do all the talking, and you really do enjoy it.
‘’Hello? Why is he practically working for you?’’
‘’There’s obviously something going on!’’
‘’WHAT IF HE POISONED THE SANDWICH?!’’
‘’It’s not reasonable for him to have any hatred towards you though..”
‘’How are you so calm?!’’
Yes, one of Choi Haejin’s many loveable qualities. Her overwhelmingly stacked questions.
Seonghyeon’s concern didn’t seem to fade with time. If anything, it had simply evolved. A week after the football incident, you found yourself stuck in a conversation you had absolutely no interest in being part of. You’d only been trying to get to class. That was it.
Somehow, somewhere between leaving the cafeteria and reaching the stairs, a girl from your year had stopped you. You knew who she was, but not well enough to have a ten minute conversation in the middle of the hallway. Yet here you were, smiling politely, nodding occasionally and secretly praying for an escape.
“-and then she literally posted about it!” the girl continued. “Really?” you replied.
You didn’t even know what you were saying “really” to anymore. The conversation had dragged on for so long that you’d completely lost the plot. You shifted your weight awkwardly, glancing toward the staircase. Your next class started in a few minutes, but cutting her off felt rude. Standing here forever also felt rude to yourself.
“So then I told her-‘’
“There you are.”
The familiar voice made you look up immediately. Seonghyeon. For a second, you just stared. He stopped beside you, one hand shoved casually into his pocket.
“Why are you still here?” he asked.
You blinked.
“What?”
“Class starts in like two minutes.”
Your eyes widened slightly.
It did?
Before you could check your phone, Seonghyeon looked over at the girl.
“Sorry,” he said easily. “I need her for something.”
Need you?
The girl glanced between the two of you.
“Oh.”
You felt your face heat up instantly.
“Oh.”
Seonghyeon, meanwhile, looked completely unaffected. The girl quickly stepped aside.
“Yeah, of course.”
And just like that, you were free. You followed Seonghyeon down the hallway, still trying to process what had happened. Neither of you spoke.
“You didn’t need me for anything.” You began.
“Nope.” You stared at him. He glanced over.
“You looked like you wanted to escape.” Your steps faltered slightly.
“Was it that obvious?”
“To me?” he shrugged. “A little.”
You looked away before he could see the smile threatening to appear. The strange thing was that you hadn’t even told him you were uncomfortable. You hadn’t said anything at all. And somehow, he’d noticed anyway.
The next day, by the time you reached your classroom, you were expecting everyone to already be inside. Instead, a small crowd had gathered outside the locked door.
A few students sat on the floor scrolling through their phones while others stood around complaining about the teacher being late. Relieved that you hadn’t actually missed anything, you slipped into an empty spot against the wall and pulled out your phone, hoping to blend into the background until the classroom opened. It was working for about thirty seconds, then a familiar voice spoke beside you.
“You’re late, It’s not because of your head is it?’’
You looked up to find Seonghyeon standing there. Before you could answer, someone walking down the hallway lifted a hand.
“Hey, Seonghyeon.”
“Hey.”
Another student nodded at him as they passed. A group farther down the hall called his name and he acknowledged them with a small wave. It was such a normal thing that he barely seemed to notice it. You did.
Before he acknowledged you, this was exactly how you’d always seen him, from a distance. Someone who seemed to know everyone and be known by everyone. Teachers greeted him. Students greeted him. Even people who weren’t in his friend group seemed comfortable walking up to him. Meanwhile, you were usually trying to avoid being perceived altogether.
“Well?” he asked.
You blinked.
“What?”
“Why are you late?” You immediately looked away because the answer was embarrassing.
“I couldn’t find a pen.” Seonghyeon stared at you.
“A pen.”
“Yes.”
“You were late because of a pen.”
“It was an important pen.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, you felt strangely defensive.
“It was.”
A laugh escaped him.
Not loud enough to draw attention, but enough that you looked up in surprise. You weren’t sure why the sound caught you off guard. Maybe because Seonghyeon always seemed so composed around everyone else. Maybe because you’d spent months assuming he was intimidating. Now he was laughing because you apparently make hilarious jokes.
The interaction hadn’t gone unnoticed, somehow you caught two girls nearby glancing over before quickly looking away. One of them whispered something to the other. Heat immediately crept up your neck.
For some reason, whenever Seonghyeon talked to you, it felt like everyone else suddenly became interested too. Seonghyeon either didn’t notice or didn’t care. A few minutes later, one of his friends appeared and nudged his shoulder.
“Come here for a sec.” You expected him to leave but instead he glanced over briefly. “I’ll be there in a minute, Keonho.’’ His friend looked between the two of you before smirking slightly. “Right.”
The second he walked away, you wanted to disappear. Seonghyeon meanwhile, looked completely oblivious. The conversation continued in small pieces after that. Nothing important. Complaints about homework. A teacher neither of you liked. The upcoming test everyone was stressing about. You still weren’t saying much but for the first time, the silences didn’t feel awkward.
That was what surprised you the most because before all of this, talking to Seonghyeon had never even seemed like a possibility. Now you found yourself hoping the teacher would stay late for a few more minutes.
If there was one thing you’d learned from being friends with Haejin, it was that she was incapable of making a quick decision. She was supposed to buy a game for her younger brother’s birthday.
You were only there because she’d insisted she needed a “second opinion”. According to Haejin, this was a very important responsibility. According to you, she just didn’t want to go alone. Twenty minutes later, your theory was proven to be correct.
“You’ve been staring at these three games for like ten minutes”
Haejin gasped dramatically. “This is a life changing decision.”
“…It’s a birthday gift?’’
‘’Exactly.’’
You sighed and glanced around the store.
The place was busier than you’d expected for a saturday afternoon. The game store was warm and slightly crowded, lined with shelves stacked with colorful game cases and collectibles. Bright lights reflected off display screens scattered throughout the store, while the faint sounds of racing games, button mashing, and excited conversations filled the air.
Groups of friends wandered between aisles, kids begged their parents to buy things and somewhere in the back of the store, a racing game played loudly through a set of speakers.
‘’Oh, what do i do? Haemin likes all of these.’’ At this point, you were mostly waiting for Haejin to decide which game she’d buy for her brother so you could both leave. Then a familiar voice drifted across the store.
‘’You can’t blame me for that.’’
For a second, you thought you’d imagined it but then another voice answered.
‘’Oh yes i can.’’
You turned your head slightly. Near the racing simulator setup stood two boys. One was sitting in the simulator, controller still in hand. The other stood beside him with his arms crossed. You recognized them immediately.
Seonghyeon and Keonho.
You simply stared. Not because seeing them was surprising, you’re sure many highschoolers come here.
Because seeing them like this was.
‘’You literally drove into me!’’ Keonho blamed.
‘’I didn’t-‘’
‘’You did.’’
‘’I barely touched you.’’
Keonho looked genuienly offended.
‘’You sent my car into a wall.’’
‘’Well you suck at this game anyway.’’
A laugh escaped Seonghyeon.
Even after becoming friends with him, most of your conversations had happened between classes, in hallways, or during lunch breaks.
School Seonghyeon was confident, calm, and seemingly unbothered by everything. This version felt more relaxed, warm. More real. Like the moment he stepped outside school, some invisible pressure disappeared.
Beside you, Haejin finally noticed where your attention had gone. She looked at the two boys.
“No way.”
You already knew that tone.
“Haejin.”
“No way.”
“Haejin.”
“That’s Seonghyeon- and Keonho.’’
“I can see that.”
She looked far too excited about this discovery. Fate apparently hated you because at that exact moment, Keonho looked up and spotted the two of you. His grin appeared instantly.
“Oh, this is interesting.”
Seonghyeon frowned.
“What?”
Keonho tilted his head toward the entrance. Slowly, Seonghyeon turned around. For a brief moment, surprise flashed across his face. His eyes met yours. The first thing he did was smile, a genuine smile. Suddenly, becoming very interested in the floor seemed like a fantastic idea. Haejin had other plans. Before you could stop her, she grabbed your wrist and started walking.
“Haejin.”
“Nope.”
“Haejin, come on-”
“We’re already committed.”
“We absolutely are not.”
Across the store, you could hear Keonho laughing which somehow made everything worse. By the time the two of you have reached them, your dignity had already left the building.
‘’Y/n,’’ Seonghyeon said.
The fact that he greeted you first did absolutely nothing to help.
‘’Hi.’’
Haejin meanwhile, had abandoned all subtlety.
‘’What happened to fourth place?’’
Keonho immediately pointed at her.
‘’THANK YOU.’’
Seonghyeon closed his eyes briefly. ‘’You are not helping.’’
‘’You came fourth?’’
You really couldn’t help asking. The look Seonghyeon gave you was almost enough to make you laugh, almost. Keonho looked delighted. Finally, someone was on his side. “You see?” he said, pointing at you. “Even y/n agrees.”
“I didn’t agree with anything,” you replied immediately.
“You asked the question.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It basically is.”
“It absolutely is not.”
Seonghyeon looked exhausted.
“You two are impossible.”
The comment earned matching offended expressions from both you and Keonho which, unfortunately, only made Haejin laugh.
“Wow,” she said. “I’ve never seen him lose an argument before.”
“I’m not losing.”
“You came fourth.”
“I came fourth because somebody doesn’t know how to drive.”
Keonho gasped.
The betrayal.
The audacity.
The complete disrespect.
For a second, the two of them resumed arguing while you stood there trying- and failing not to smile. It was strange. Before today, you’d never really seen Seonghyeon with his friends. Not properly.
At school, people always seemed drawn to him. There was always someone talking to him, waving at him, asking him something. But this felt different, like it was more real, less intimidating.
You followed his gaze. Haejin was holding up two game cases while Keonho looked like he was defending his thesis.
“Yeah.”
“They’ve been arguing about the same thing for like ten minutes.”
“You say that like you weren’t arguing over a racing game when I walked in.”
Seonghyeon looked over.
“That was different.”
“Was it?’’
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Neither of you said anything for a moment. You found yourself looking around the store instead, eyes moving over shelves packed with games you knew nothing about. Then Seonghyeon pointed toward one.
“Have you played that before?”
You glanced at the cover.
“No.”
“What about that one?”
“No.”
He pointed at another.
“No.”
Another.
“No.”
Seonghyeon stared at you.
“Have you ever had fun before?”
You were slightly taken aback.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m trying to figure out why Haejin brought you to a game store.’’
“I’m here to supervise.”
To your surprise, he laughed.
Slowly, Your conversations started to flow naturally. It felt easier to talk to him. Maybe because it didn’t feel like talking to the cool guy everyone knew. Or the football player.
Just Seonghyeon.
Talking to him was becoming easier than talking to most people.
“You owe me.”
You looked up from your phone.
Across the lunch table, Haejin was staring at you expectantly.
“What?”
“You owe me.”
“..I don’t think I do.”
“You do.”
You narrowed your eyes, then Haejin leaned forward.
“Aren’t friends supposed to support each other’s interests?” She gave you a cheeky smile.
‘’Mm..that depends.’’
‘’On what?’’
“Whether those interests involve dragging me somewhere against my will.”
A look of betrayal crossed her face.
“Wow.”
“You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”
“Haejin.”
She grinned. “What?”
You gave her a knowing look before she finally decided to answer.
“There’s a football match after school.”
You stared at her.
“Seriously? No.”
The answer came so quickly that she looked offended.
“You didn’t even think about it.”
“I did.”
“You really didn’t.”
“I absolutely did.”
Haejin pointed at you.
“See? This is exactly why I didn’t tell you sooner.”
Unfortunately, that was how you found yourself sitting on the school bleachers three hours later, questioning every life decision that had led you to this moment. It seemed fun though.
The field was already crowded by the time you arrived.
Students filled up most of the seats, scattered in groups with friends, snacks and far more enthusiasm than you could ever relate to. The noise was conversations overlapping, people calling out to eachother, the occasional burst of laughter carrying across the field.
You adjusted your position on the bleachers and glanced around.
“This is way more people than I expected.”
“Obviously,” Haejin replied.
“Why obviously?”
She looked at you as if you’d asked something ridiculous.
“It’s the biggest match of the season.”
“Oh.”
“You didn’t know that either?”
“No.”
Haejin sighed. Sometimes you genuinely worried about her blood pressure whenever she talked to you. The teams began gathering on the field below. A few students immediately started cheering. Others waved at friends playing.
You found yourself mostly observing, until a familiar figure stepped onto the field. The annoying thing was that you recognized him immediately. Not because of the jersey, not because he was standing the closest, your eyes had simply found him automatically.
You hated that, a lot.
Before he hit you with the football, Seonghyeon would’ve blended into the crowd of players. Now he stood out immediately. The realization was embarrassing enough that you quickly had to look elsewhere.
When you looked back a few moments later, your eyes found him again. And again. And again. It was becoming a problem.
The whistle blew.
The game began.
At first, you paid attention out of politeness. Haejin had dragged you here, after all. The least you could do was pretend to care. A few minutes passed. Then ten. Then twenty. Somewhere along the way, you realized you were actually watching.
Not football.
Seonghyeon.
The thing was, you’d never seen him like this before. At school, Seonghyeon always seemed relaxed and comfortable. The type of person who could walk into any room and immediately belong there. On the field, however, there was something different about him. He moved with an ease that made everything look effortless. Even from a distance, you could tell people listened when he spoke.
Teammates glanced toward him constantly. A few times, he called something out and everyone immediately adjusted. It was strange. Not because you hadn’t known he played football. Because you’d never really thought about what that meant.
For the first time, you understood why so many people admired him. And for some reason, that realization made your stomach feel weird. Beside you, Haejin followed your gaze. Then smirked. You knew that smirk. It was never a good sign.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Haejin.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking something.”
“I am.”
You groaned.
“Please don’t.”
The smirk only grew.
Thankfully, before she could speak, the crowd suddenly erupted around you. Cheers echoed across the bleachers. Students jumped to their feet. You blinked.
Apparently something had happened. Unfortunately, you’d been too busy arguing with Haejin to notice.
“What happened?”
Haejin stared at you, then at the field, then back at you.
“You weren’t watching.”
“I was.”
“You literally weren’t.”
“What happened?”
She pointed toward the field and you followed her gaze. Seonghyeon was jogging back toward the center, teammates crowding around him.
“Oh.”
“Oh?” Haejin repeated.
“He scored.”
“He scored.”
You nodded.
For some reason, a smile pulled at your lips. A small one. One you didn’t even notice until Haejin did. Her eyes widened immediately.
“Wow.’’
Your smile disappeared.
“What?”
“You smiled.”
“So?”
“You smiled because he scored.”
Heat immediately rose to your face. You felt your ears swell.
“No i didn’t.”
“You did.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
You looked away before she could continue. You weren’t entirely sure she was wrong. That realization lingered for the rest of the match. Long after the cheering died down. Long after the game resumed. Long after you’d convinced yourself you were imagining things.
Because every time something happened on the field, your attention drifted toward the same person. Everytime he did something impressive, you felt strangely proud. As if you’d somehow earned the right.
Which was absurd.
You were still trying to convince yourself of that when the final whistle blew. The crowd immediately came alive. Students began standing, gathering their things, and making their way toward the exits. Some headed toward the field. Others were already talking excitedly about the game.
You stayed seated. Mostly because moving required effort. Partly because Haejin had disappeared five minutes ago after spotting someone she knew. You’d just pulled out your phone when a shadow fell across you. You assumed it was Haejin. Then a familiar voice spoke.
“I need an unbiased opinion.”
You looked up.
And immediately wished you hadn’t. Seonghyeon was standing there. Still wearing his uniform. Still slightly out of breath. His hair was damp from the game, falling messily across his forehead. For some reason, that bothered you.
Not because it looked bad, quite the opposite actually. Judging by the expression on his face, something had clearly bothered him.
“Hello to you too.”
“That can wait-‘’
You blinked.
“That’s sort of concerning.”
“I was robbed.”
A pause.
‘’Didn’t you guys win?’’
‘’That’s not the point.’’
‘’Feels like a pretty important point.’’
Seonghyeon looked genuinely frustrated, his breathing was heavier since the game had ended.
‘’The referee was seriously against me.’’
You stared at him for several seconds before you shifted in your seat.
‘’You’re one of those people?’’
‘’What?’’
‘’The people who blame the referee everytime something doesn’t go their way.’’
‘’It didn’t go my way.’’
‘’Well, you won.’’
‘’Of course i did.’’
You laughed, the reaction was immediate.
‘’You didn’t even pay attention.’’
‘’I was.’’
‘’No you weren’t’’
‘’How would you know?’’
‘’Because if you did, you’d be angry too.’’
‘’I’m not emotionally invested enough to be angry.’’
The look he gave you suggested this was the wrong answer.
“Okay, imagine this’’
‘’Oh-‘’
‘’I score.’’
‘’You score.’’
‘’A beautiful score.’’
‘’According to whom exactly?’’
‘’Everybody.’’
‘’Mm.’’
‘’Then the referee- who’s job is to observe accurately, calls it offside.’’
You considered this, then shrugged.
‘’Well- maybe it was offside.’’
The betrayal on his face creeped up fast.
‘’I swear it wasn’t.’’
‘’Were you the referee?’’
‘’No.’’
‘’Then how do you know?’’
For a moment, Seonghyeon simply stared at you, then he pointed accusingly.
‘’You’re terrible at this.’’
‘’At what?’’
‘’At being supportive.’’
‘’You wanted an unbiased opinion.’’
‘’I wanted you to agree with me.’’
‘’That’s not quite what unbiased means.’’
The corner of his mouth twitched. You knew he was competitive, he shot a football straight at you a few weeks ago.
‘’You know what? Nevermind.’’
You laughed again.
This time, Seonghyeon shook his head dramatically and dropped down to the bleacher seat in front of you. The field behind him remained crowded with players and students slowly making their way home. Voices carried across the evening air while coaches gathered equipment near the sidelines.
“You stayed for the whole match.”
The comment caught you off guard.
“What?”
“The whole thing.”
He leaned back slightly.
“I thought you’d get bored and leave.”
You narrowed your eyes.
“You have a very low opinion of me.”
“I watched you spend twenty minutes in a game store staring at absolutely nothing.”
“I was being supportive.”
“You were wandering.”
“I was observing.”
“You were probably lost.”
“I knew exactly where I was.”
“Sure.”
You hated how satisfied he looked, with a smile to follow up on. His smile was genuine, like you could argue about anything- and it would still feel like you won, simply because he gave you that smile.
Then again, you hated how often he made you laugh. Before either of you could continue, a voice called from somewhere behind him.
“Seonghyeon!”
You looked up automatically.
A girl was jogging across the field toward the two of you, a bottle of water in one hand. She couldn’t have been much older than you. She looked pretty, and confident. The type of person who seemed completely comfortable talking to anyone. The type of person you immediately disliked for absolutely no reason.
She stopped beside him and held out the bottle. “You left this.”
“Oh.” Seonghyeon took it.
“Thanks.”
The interaction was completely normal.
The girl smiled. “No problem.”
Then she started talking, and Seonghyeon talked back. Which again, was normal. Because why wouldn’t he? But as you stood there listening to their conversation, a strange feeling settled in your chest. One you didn’t particularly like. The girl seemed familiar with him, she was comfortable like this wasn’t the first time they’d spoken. Obviously it wasn’t, Seonghyeon knew everyone. You already knew that.
Still, you found yourself looking away. Suddenly very interested in fixing the strap of your bag.
“You coming to practice on monday?” the girl asked.
“Yeah.”
“Good.” She grinned.
“Coach would’ve killed you if you missed it.”
Seonghyeon laughed. The same laugh you’d spent the last few weeks becoming far too fond of. Hearing it now felt different, a little less special.
You’d never thought it was special. Not really. Right? The realization hit, maybe that was the problem. You had.
At some point, without noticing, you’d started treating every conversation with Seonghyeon like it meant something. When in reality this was just who he was. He was friendly, easy to talk to. He was comfortable around everyone.
The girl finally glanced toward you.
“Oh.”
For a second, she looked between the two of you then smiled politely.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
The conversation lasted another minute or two.
You weren’t really paying attention anymore because the stupid feeling in your chest had only gotten worse. Thankfully, someone else called Seonghyeon’s name from across the field. A teammate this time.
“Seonghyeon!”
He looked over, then back at you.
“I should probably go.”
The words were simple and harmless, but for some reason they felt disappointing.
“Yeah,” you said.
“See you monday?”
You smiled, disingeniously.
“See you.”
The second he stood up and walked away, you knew something was wrong. Not with him, but with you. You spent the entire walk home thinking about a conversation that hadn’t even involved you. You replayed everything, the exchanged conversation, his gaze, his laughter. You replayed him.
The realization irritated you more than anything else. It wasn’t as if Seonghyeon had done something particularly memorable. He’d talked to a teammate, that’s all. The interaction had been completely normal, yet somehow your brain insisted on revisiting it every few hours like there was some hidden meaning you’d failed to uncover the first time around.
By monday morning, you’d become so annoyed with yourself that you’d practically banned yourself from thinking about him altogether. Unfortunately, that lasted less than a day.
School carried on as usual. Teachers assigned work, students complained about it, and Haejin continued collecting gossip the way other people collected hobbies, which was admirable really. Everything felt normal. At least until the end of third period.
Your teacher had been gathering her things when she suddenly bent down and picked something up from beside one of the desks near the front of the classroom. It was a dark grey hoodie, slightly oversized and folded in on itself as if somebody had shoved it underneath a chair and forgotten about it.
“Did someone leave this behind?” she asked, holding it up.
A few students glanced over before immediately losing interest, you looked up too and knew exactly who it belonged to.
The answer came so quickly that you didn’t even question it at first. Seonghyeon. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation, you simply looked at the hoodie and knew.
Maybe it was because you’d seen him wearing it countless times over the past few weeks. Maybe it was because it had become one of those things your brain automatically associated with him. Whatever the reason, the certainty came naturally enough that you barely thought twice about it.
Then somebody behind you spoke.
“Oh, that’s Seonghyeon’s.”
Somehow, it felt odd. It wasn’t because they’d confirmed it, it was more so because they hadn’t told you anything you didn’t already know.
The rest of the class moved on immediately. The teacher placed the hoodie on her desk, someone made a joke and within seconds everyone was talking about something else. Everyone except you.
For some reason, that insignificant moment refused to leave your head. You spent the next hour trying to convince yourself it meant nothing. It was just a hoodie. People recognized each other’s belongings all the time. There was really nothing strange about it.
The argument would’ve been much more convincing if you hadn’t immediately noticed he wasn’t wearing it during lunch. The realization hit you before you even saw his face.
Your eyes found him automatically across the cafeteria surrounded by Keonho, Martin, James and Juhoon, the same group of friends he was always with. The first thing your brain registered wasn’t the conversation he was having or the fact that Keonho was laughing at something.
It was the absence of the hoodie. That’s why he looks different. You seriously didn’t like this, you in fact hated it. Seonghyeon, whom you hadn’t bat an eye on two months ago had occupied your mind the past four days. It was torture, simply because you refused to accept the thoughts. You denied everything, you brushed everything off and went about your day.
The following morning started with a problem. Not a particularly serious one, nor one that should have occupied more than a few seconds of your time, yet somehow you found yourself standing in front of your bedroom mirror far longer than necessary. You’d already finished getting ready.
Your makeup was done, your uniform was on, your bag was packed and waiting by the door. By all accounts, you should’ve been downstairs eating breakfast. Instead, you were still there staring at your reflection as if it had personally offended you. Something felt wrong.
The frustrating part was that you couldn’t figure out what. Your hair looked fine, more than fine actually. You had spent enough time on it to ensure that. Yet your hand still reached up to smooth down a strand near your cheek before stepping back again.
A few seconds later you found yourself leaning toward the mirror adjusting something else, then immediately questioning whether it had looked better before. The cycle repeated itself often enough that by the time you finally checked the clock, nearly fifteen minutes had disappeared. You frowned. That couldn’t be right.
Normally, getting ready in the morning wasn’t something you thought much about. You liked looking presentable and usually put effort into your appearance, but there was a difference between effort and whatever this was. This felt suspiciously close to perfectionism, except there was nothing to perfect.
Every time you fixed one thing, your eyes immediately found something else to focus on. A different hairstyle. A little more lip tint. Maybe a different pair of earrings. None of the changes were dramatic enough for anyone else to notice, but you noticed them, and apparently that was enough to keep you rooted in front of the mirror like an idiot.
Moments later, your phone buzzed. Haejin was texting you.
HAEJIN
Overslept.
Can’t make it to first period.
Meet you second period😴
Haejin was a bit careless when it came to school. You don’t think it’s on purpose, she just doesn’t see the need to wake up at 7:30 AM for merely first period. She makes it so justifiable, so you guess you could see it from her perspective, however not today. Today, was an important day.
By the time first period began, you were already feeling self aware. Now, instead of sitting beside your best friend, you found yourself alone at your desk while the teacher droned on at the front of the classroom. The seat beside you remained empty, which felt strangely noticeable. Haejin had a way of filling every space she occupied, and without her there the morning seemed significantly quieter.
When the bell finally rang, you gathered your things and stepped into the hallway with no particular destination in mind. Your next class was on the opposite side of the building, leaving you with more than enough time to get there. Normally, you would have spent the break with Haejin. Today however, you found yourself wandering alone through the crowded hallways.
“Y/n, hey.’’
The familiar voice made you turn immediately.
Seonghyeon stood a few feet away, one strap of his backpack slung over his shoulder. For a moment, your brain supplied an extremely unhelpful thought.
Did he notice?
You hated yourself instantly.
Notice what?
Your hair?
Your makeup?
The fact that you’d spent half your morning acting like a love island contestant? Thankfully, Seonghyeon seemed completely unaware of the spiraling thoughts currently unfolding.
“Haejin’s late,” you explained before he could ask. Before you could think of a more logical answer, like a simple hey.
Seriously?
What does Haejin have to do with this?
Why would he care?
Seonghyeon almost surpressed his reaction.
‘’Oh- right.’’
He was confused. Did you think he approached you to talk to Haejin? He didn’t read much into it though.
However, he did notice something was different about you today.
At first, he couldn’t figure out what it was.
Maybe your hair looked different. Maybe your makeup. Whatever it was, it gave you a slightly softer appearance than usual. Not dramatically different, just enough to make him pause for a second longer than normal.
“You look tired” he said instead.
You stared at him. Of all the things he could’ve said.
“Tired?”
“Yeah.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Didn’t sleep?”
The betrayal you felt was immediate. You had spent an embarrassing amount of time getting ready this morning. An embarrassing amount. And somehow the only conclusion he’d reached was that you looked tired. For a brief moment, you considered pushing him down the nearest staircase.
“That’s offensive.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, tell me.”
“I’m choosing peace.”
Seonghyeon laughed.
Unfortunately, the sound did absolutely nothing to improve your mood. If anything, it made it worse. Because now all you could think about was the twenty minutes you’d wasted staring at yourself in the mirror. The universe clearly had a sense of humor.
“You look fine, by the way.”
The comment was casual. So casual that he probably didn’t think twice about saying it. You however, nearly forgot how to function. Before you could respond, Martin called Seonghyeon’s name from farther down the hallway. He looked over his shoulder, then back at you.
“I’ll see you later.” And just like that, he was gone.
Leaving you standing in the middle of the hallway wondering why two completely harmless words had managed to ruin the rest of your morning. The rest of the day passed surprisingly quickly after that.
Haejin eventually arrived halfway through second period carrying the same energy she always did, immediately filling the empty space beside you with stories, complaints and dramatic retellings of how she had supposedly fallen victim to circumstances completely beyond her control.
According to her, the blame rested entirely on a combination of faulty alarms, unfair school schedules and a universe that seemed personally determined to make her suffer.
“I woke up and it was 9:12.”
“You start at 8:30.”
“Exactly.”
“That’s doesn’t quite help.” Haejin pouted.
The rest of the day continued pretty much the same way. Haejin spent most of her time insisting she was being unfairly persecuted by the education system. By the final bell, you had almost forgotten about the awkward interaction from that morning. Almost. Unfortunately, while you were fully prepared to go home, Haejin apparently had other plans.
“I’ll be two minutes.”
“You said that fifteen minutes ago.”
“This time I mean it.”
“You also meant it last time.”
Ignoring you entirely, she disappeared back into the building after being stopped by a teacher regarding an assignment she had forgotten to submit. So you waited.
The afternoon air was cool, carrying the familiar sounds of students lingering around school grounds before heading home.
Groups gathered near the entrance, conversations overlapping as people delayed going home for as long as possible. You had been scrolling through your phone for several minutes when a football rolled across the pavement a few meters away. Your eyes followed it automatically.
Several members of the football team had gathered near the edge of the courtyard, passing time before practice. Some were kicking a ball around while others leaned against a nearby fence talking amongst themselves. The sight would’ve gone largely unnoticed if Haejin hadn’t finally emerged from the building at that exact moment.
“Oh.”
“What?”
Her eyes lit up. “Keonho’s here.”
Before you could stop her, she’d already started walking.
“Haejin.”
No response.
“Haejin.”
Still nothing.
Sometimes you genuinely believed she could hear only the things she wanted to hear. Unfortunately, Keonho seemed equally enthusiastic. A few minutes later, the two of them had somehow dragged everyone into the same conversation.
You weren’t entirely sure how it happened. One moment you were waiting for Haejin, the next you were standing in a loose circle listening to Keonho passionately argue that football players deserved special treatment during exam season.
“You kick a ball around.”
“That’s not all we do.”
“That’s literally what football is.” Seonghyeon let out a faint laugh. Keonho pointed at him immediately.
“See? He understands.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your silence supports me.”
The conversation drifted from one topic to another after that. Homework became complaints about teachers, which somehow turned into stories from middle school and then an argument over who had the worst attendance record. At some point, Keonho glanced toward Seonghyeon.
“Actually, speaking of people abandoning their friends.” Seonghyeon already looked tired.
“You spend more time talking to y/n than you do with me nowadays.”
The comment earned a laugh from Haejin. You wished it hadn’t, because now everyone was looking at the two of you. Seonghyeon meanwhile, seemed completely unaffected.
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m serious.”
For a second, Keonho gestured vaguely between the two of you as though presenting evidence to a jury. The response came easily. Without hesitation. Without even a second of thought.
“She’s just a friend.”
The following morning began with rain.
Not the kind that belonged in movies, where people stared moodily out of windows while life changing realizations unfolded in the background. This was ordinary rain. Annoying rain. The sort that turned sidewalks slippery and made umbrellas feel completely useless because somehow you still ended up getting wet anyway.
By the time you arrived at school, your shoes were damp, your patience was gone and Haejin was already waiting by the entrance looking personally offended by the weather. She immediately launched into a five minute rant about how rain should be illegal before eight in the morning, only pausing long enough to complain about an upcoming assignment and the fact that she had forgotten to study for a quiz she apparently hadn’t known existed until fifteen minutes ago.
The conversation continued all the way to class. Then through first period. Then through half of second period. That was one of the things you liked most about Haejin. Being around her left very little room for overthinking. Unfortunately not no room, just very little.
The thought arrived sometime during lunch. You were sitting across from Haejin while she attempted to convince three people that she deserved compensation for having to wake up before sunrise every day. Around you, the cafeteria buzzed with the usual noise of conversations, laughter and the occasional argument over stolen food. It was normal. Completely normal.
Yet for some reason, you found yourself looking up whenever the doors opened. The first time, you didn’t think much of it. The second time, you barely noticed. The third time however, you caught yourself doing it and immediately looked back down at your food. That was strange. You frowned slightly.
Because you knew exactly what you had been looking for. Or rather, who. The thought irritated you far more than it should have. The problem was that it happened automatically. You had not consciously wondered where Seonghyeon was. You hadn’t been sitting there waiting for him to appear. Your eyes had simply searched the room on their own before your brain had the chance to stop them. Annoying. Deeply annoying. Across from you, Haejin paused mid-sentence.
“…Why do you look angry?”
“I’m not angry.”
“You look like it.”
“I’m thinking.”
“That explains nothing.”
You stabbed a french fry with considerably more force than necessary. Haejin narrowed her eyes immediately. Never a good sign.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s a lie.”
“It isn’t.”
“It literally is.”
You sighed. The problem with having a best friend for years was that they became impossible to fool.
“You know,” Haejin continued, leaning back in her chair “most people don’t glare at potatoes unless something is bothering them.”
For a brief moment, you considered telling her. Not everything. Then immediately decided against it. Mostly because hearing your thoughts out loud would somehow make the situation significantly worse, and because deep down there was a part of you that already knew exactly what Haejin would say. The problem was that you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to hear it.
If someone had asked Seonghyeon whether anything had changed over the past couple of weeks, he probably would’ve said no.
Life looked exactly the same as it always had. Football practice continued to consume most of his afternoons and Keonho remained committed to making every situation at least twice as loud as necessary. The days blended together in the way school days often did. One class became another. One week became the next. Nothing particularly significant seemed to happen. At least, that was what he thought.
The realization didn’t arrive all at once. It wasn’t grand. It wasn’t even particularly noticeable at first. Instead, it appeared in small moments and then disappeared again before he could properly think about it. A hallway conversation that felt strangely short. An empty seat during lunch that shouldn’t have mattered. The first few times, he ignored it. By the tenth, it was becoming difficult to.
Thursday afternoon found him sitting through one of the most painfully boring lessons of the semester. Even the teacher seemed tired of listening to himself speak. Around the classroom, students had long since given up pretending to pay attention. Some were doodling in notebooks, others were staring blankly out windows, and James had somehow managed to fall asleep while sitting upright. Honestly, it was impressive.
Seonghyeon’s attention had drifted somewhere around twenty minutes earlier. His notebook remained open in front of him, untouched except for a few half finished notes written without much thought behind them. He wasn’t really looking at anything in particular when the teacher suddenly stopped speaking and sighed.
Immediately, several students sat up. The word easier had that effect.
The teacher began asking questions instead, pointing at different students around the room whenever he needed an answer. Most people responded with varying levels of enthusiasm. Some answered correctly. Others guessed. One student somehow managed to produce an answer so incorrect that the entire class burst out laughing. Including Seonghyeon. For some reason, the moment reminded him of y/n. The thought appeared so unexpectedly that he almost frowned.
It wasn’t even a specific memory. Just a vague association. Something about the expression she would’ve made if she’d heard the answer. The way she tried not to laugh when she found something funny. The way she usually looked away immediately afterward as if being caught smiling was somehow embarrassing. For a second, he found himself glancing toward the row she usually sat in. Then paused, because that was strange. He hadn’t spoken to y/n properly in what felt like ages. It didn’t make sense.
A few weeks ago, running into her had somehow become normal. Conversations before class. Conversations after class. Random interactions in hallways that stretched far longer than either of them intended. Nothing major. Just enough that he’d stopped noticing when they happened.
Now he was noticing when they didn’t. The thought lingered for the rest of the lesson. Then followed him into the hallway. Then all the way to lunch. By the time football practice started, he still hadn’t managed to shake it. People got busy, that was all. School happened, life happened. There was no reason to think about it this much.
Unfortunately, that explanation became slightly harder to believe when he realized he couldn’t remember the last actual conversation they’ve had.
Instead, he found himself standing on the edge of the football field staring at absolutely nothing while the rest of the team warmed up around him.
“Earth to Seonghyeon.”
Martin’s voice snapped him out of it.
“What?”
“You’ve been staring at the same patch of grass for thirty seconds.”
Seonghyeon blinked.
Had he? Apparently. Keonho narrowed his eyes immediately.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
Seonghyeon didn’t understand why he had thought about it this much. He wasn’t the type to. He’d logically examine situations, come up with a logical answer and move on with his day. Somehow this was different, yet he couldn’t pinpoint why.
Keonho had never been the type of person to let things go. In fact, if Seonghyeon had to describe him using a single phrase, it would probably be incapable of minding his own business. The moment practice ended, Keonho’s attention returned to the subject with the determination of somebody investigating a crime.
At first, Seonghyeon didn’t even realize it was happening. The team had just finished collecting equipment, everyone moving around the field in various states of exhaustion while the sun slowly disappeared behind the school buildings. Conversations overlapped from every direction.
Somebody was complaining about the coach, somebody else was arguing about where to eat afterward and a football rolled across the grass before being kicked back toward a storage cart. Everything felt normal. Until Keonho appeared beside him. That wasn’t unusual. The fact that he remained there in complete silence however, definitely was.
For several seconds he simply walked beside him without saying anything. Coming from Keonho, that was concerning enough on its own. When Seonghyeon finally glanced over, he immediately regretted it. Keonho was already staring at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Seonghyeon asked.
“I’m thinking.”
A sigh escaped him. The evening air had turned noticeably cooler now, students gradually filtering away from the field in small groups as the noise around them slowly faded into the distance. For a brief moment it almost seemed like Keonho might finally drop the subject. Then he spoke again.
“You know what I think?”
“No.”
“I think you’re lying.”
Seonghyeon barely reacted. Mostly because this conversation happened at least three times a week.
“About what?”
“I don’t know yet.”
The answer was so stupid that a laugh almost escaped him.
“No, seriously.” Keonho adjusted the strap of his bag before continuing. “You’ve been zoning out lately.”
That got his attention. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard something similar. Over the past week different people had made almost identical observations often enough that it was becoming difficult to ignore. Martin had asked whether he was tired. His mother had asked whether something was bothering him. Even the coach had commented on him being distracted during practice yesterday.
At the time Seonghyeon had brushed all of it off. Now however, standing on the sidewalk outside the school while Keonho kicked absentmindedly at loose gravel beside him, he found himself wondering whether they all had a point.
The problem was that he couldn’t figure out what exactly was different. Or rather, he could. He just didn’t particularly like the answer. Because every time he started pulling at the loose thread of the thought, it somehow led back to the same place. The same person. The same question. When was the last time he’d actually talked to y/n?
Not seen her. Not waved at her from the other end of a hallway. Talked to her, a proper conversation. The answer should’ve come immediately. Instead, he found himself drawing a blank.
And for reasons he couldn’t explain, that really bothered him.
By the time he got home later that evening, dropped his bag beside the door and collapsed onto his bed, the thought was still there. Which was annoying, because he had homework to finish and football practice again tomorrow. He had significantly more important things to think about. Yet somehow, while staring at the ceiling of his room, his mind drifted back to the same thing. He dug deep into his thoughts.
The first time was almost laughably insignificant. Class had just ended, and students were spilling into the hallways at every direction. Seonghyeon had been halfway through putting his books away when he spotted y/n a little farther down the corridor.
She was standing beside her locker, listening to something Haejin was saying. Or rather, dramatically performing. Haejin’s hands were moving so aggressively that even from a distance it looked less like a conversation and more like an emergency press conference.
Without really thinking about it, Seonghyeon started heading that way.
Then suddenly y/n grabbed Haejin by the wrist and dragged her around the corner. Gone. Seonghyeon stopped walking, he had simply stared at the space where she’d been stadning.
‘’Why are you just standing there?’’
He looked over and Juhoon was staring at him.
‘’Nothing-‘’
Juhoon looked unconvinced.
The second time happened during lunch, Seonghyeon had just entered the cafeteria when he noticed y/n sitting at her usual table. For some reason, the sight made him smile.
He grabbed his tray and joined his friends. Halfway through James’s completely unecessary rant about him having to balance both the exams- since he’s a few years older, and football practice, Seonghyeon glanced across the cafeteria again.
The seat was empty, he frowned.
‘’How dare they stack up on exams the second football season gets serious? I can’t be expected to memorize biology and score goals.’’
Yeah that was just background noise for Seonghyeon.
The third time was when it had actually started bothering him. School had ended, and the campus was filled by students and chatter. Seonghyeon, Keonho, Juhoon, Martin and James stood in front of the school, talking while Martin shot the basketball into the hoop continuously.
Suddenly, he spotted y/n coming out of the main entrance. She was carrying a bag over her shoulder, already heading toward the front gate. He considered calling her name, the thought had appeared automatically. Then he paused. Because that would be weird, wouldn’t it? He wasn’t even sure what he would’ve said. Hey? Hello? Why have we apparently forgotten how to exist in the same space lately?
Before he could decide, a group of guys crossed between them. By the time they passed, she had already disappeared around the corner. That annoyed him.
He found himself looking for her the next day. Which felt ridiculous, that’s what he told himself while scanning the cafeteria without realizing he was doing it. He didn’t understand why it had bothered him so much.
Everytime he looked up, she seemed to walk the other way. He could’ve sworn she stood wherever he saw her, then poof she’s gone again. He missed talking to her. The more he thought about it, the more he realized y/n hadn’t actually disappeared. She was still around.
The strange thing about time was that it continued moving whether you wanted it to or not.
A few weeks ago, you’d convinced yourself that liking Seonghyeon was some life altering catastrophe. Every conversation felt important. Every interaction lingered longer than it should have. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of energy thinking about things that in hindsight, probably didn’t deserve nearly that much attention.
Now however, life had begun settling back into place. It wasn’t really because your feelings had disappeared, they hadn’t. You still liked him, that much obvious.
The difference was that it felt like your entire existence no longer revolved around it. Somehow, focusing on all ordinary frustrations had made everything else feel smaller. For the first time in a while, you felt like yourself again, which was probably why you agreed to help one of your teachers after class.
It seemed harmless enough at the time. It was just a simple favour, five minutes of your time. Unfortunately, teachers had a very different understanding of the word simple. Twenty minutes later, you found yourself carrying what felt like the entire contents of a storage room through one of the academic buildings.
A stack of folders was balanced precariously against your chest, several textbooks were tucked underneath one arm and a plastic container filled with miscellaneous classroom supplies kept threatening to slide out of your grasp every time you took a step.
You couldn’t see properly.
You couldn’t walk properly.
You were beginning to suspect your teacher had deliberately chosen you because you looked too polite to say no.
The hallway itself was mostly empty. Classes had ended nearly half an hour ago, leaving only the occasional student lingering behind for clubs, sports or whatever mysterious activities seemed to keep people at school long after everyone else had gone home. The combination of limited visibility and questionable balance meant you didn’t notice someone approaching from the opposite direction.
Not until it was too late.
The collision wasn’t dramatic, nobofy went flying across the hallway, well just the stack of folders that immediately tilted sideways, and the plastic container that slipped- oh and a pencil case launched itself onto the floor.
And before you could react, several sheets of paper had already escaped and scattered across the hallway like they were making a run for freedom. For one dreadful second, you simply stood there staring. Of course this was happening. Then a voice spoke.
“Whoa.”
You froze. Slowly, you looked up.
Seonghyeon looked just as surprised as you felt, then he looked down at the disaster surrounding your feet. Then back up at you. Then back down again. A smile appeared.
“Don’t.”
“I’m not saying anything.”
“You’re thinking something.”
“I am.”
You sighed.
“Great.”
The smile widened slightly.
Without another word, he crouched down and began gathering the papers scattered across the floor.
You hated how familiar the sight felt.
A few months ago, seeing Eom Seonghyeon kneeling on a hallway floor collecting your homework would’ve felt absurd. Now it barely registered as unusual. Together, the two of you began collecting the mess. Most of it in silence. The kind that had somehow become normal between you before either of you noticed.
The strange thing was that for the first time in weeks, you weren’t hyperaware of him. You weren’t overthinking every word, you weren’t wondering what something meant. You were simply trying to stop your papers from disappearing underneath a nearby vending machine.
“You know,” Seonghyeon said eventually, handing over another folder “for somebody who was late because of a pen, I feel like this tracks.”
You stared at him then immediately groaned.
“No.”
“Oh, yes.”
“That happened once.”
“You were defeated by a mere pen.”
“I wasn’t defeated.”
“You absolutely were.”
To your annoyance, a laugh escaped before you could stop it. The sound earned a grin from him. The folders had been restacked, the notebooks gathered and the loose papers that had scattered across half the hallway had been retrieved. Only one sheet remained. It had drifted farther than the others. The hallway itself had grown noticeably quieter during the few minutes.
You moved first, or atleast you thought you did. The second you stepped forward, Seonghyeon did too. The realization seemed to hit both of you simultaneously. You stopped, he stopped. The paper remained exactly where it was.
‘’Go ahead.’’
You looked up.
‘’What?’’
‘’You saw it first.’’
‘’No i didn’t’’
‘’You did.’’
‘’I was being polite.’’
‘’You’re never polite.’’
The response left his mouth so quickly that he seemed to realize what he had said only afterward. You stared at him, and he stared back. Then a smile appeared, it was small. The kind that always seemed to show up before he could stop it.
‘’You know what i mean.’’
‘’Do i?’’
‘’No.’’
You smiled- it was stupid. You loved the conversations, you missed them. Both of you moved at the same time again. The result was immediate. Your shoulders bumped together.
‘’Ow.’’
You immediately laughed in shock. He was being dramatic, it was a small bump.
The past few weeks suddenly seemed a little ridiculous. Seonghyeon spent so much time wondering why something felt off only to discover the answer was embarrassingly simple. He’d missed this aswell.
Haejin had never been particularly interested in making your life easier. The first sign of trouble appeared at exactly 5:34 PM on a Saturday.
Your phone buzzed.
Haejin
Can i come overrrr~
You stared at the message. Of course she could, rather it was weird she didn’t show up at your door to ask that.
You
obv
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
Haejin
keonho is coming too apparently
You
Oh
Why?
Haejin
because he’s annoying and won’t leave me alone
he just texted me
he’s already on the bus
Before you could gather your thoughts to respond, another message arrived.
Haejin
oh Seonghyeon’s coming too
You nearly dropped your phone.
The thirty minutes Haejin had promised turned into forty three. Not that you were counting. You absolutely weren’t. The problem was that once somebody informed you that Haejin, Keonho and more importantly- Seonghyeon would be entering your house, suddenly every insignificant detail became a problem.
The blanket draped over the couch looked wrong. The cushions looked wrong. The stack of books sitting on the coffee table looked wrong. Even the framed photo sitting on the shelf near the television somehow looked wrong despite having remained in the exact same position for nearly three years. You were in the middle of rearranging the cushions for the third time when a voice spoke from behind you.
‘’Is Haejin coming over?’’
Your mother stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. Her eyes moved from you to the perfectly arranged couch, then to the freshly folded blanket, then to the coffee table you’d wiped down approximately fifteen minutes ago.
You nodded, before following it up.
‘’And two other friends.’’
‘’That’s fine- Should i go make something? A snackplate? Cut up some fruits?’’
‘’No, that’s okay.’’
The doorbell rang. The sound practically echoed throughout the house. The second your hand touched the doorknob, you could swear your heart dropped, like seriously. The door opened, and Haejin immediately walked inside without waiting for an invitation.
‘’Hello to you too.’’ You said.
‘’Thank you.’’
‘’What?’’
Behind her came Keonho, then Seonghyeon.
For some reason, seeing him standing on your doorstep felt stranger than seeing him anywhere else. Maybe because he’s become so firmly associated with school that your brain momentarily struggled to place him here. There was no football field, no hallway. Just your front porch, and Seonghyeon standing on it looking mildly uncomfortable beneath your scrunity. There was a long pause, it felt awkward.
‘’Hi.’’
Immediately, you wanted to throw yourself into traffic. It was a groundbreaking greeting, really. Thankfully, Seonghyeon wasn’t much better.
‘’Hi.’’
Behind him, Keonho sighed dramatically. ‘’This is painful.’’
The two of them stepped inside while Haejin continued acting like she had lived there for years. Almost immediately, your mother appeared from the kitchen.
‘’Hello, dear.’’
‘’Hi!’’
The response came so naturally that it sounded like a part of a routine they had performed hundreds of times before. Then your mother looked toward the boys. Before Seonghyeon could do anything, Keonho stepped forward.
‘’I’m Keonho,’’
‘’Nice to meet you.’’
‘’And that’s Seonghyeon.’’
A brief silence followed. Seonghyeon looked over, Keonho looked back.
‘’I can introduce myself.’’
‘’You were taking too long.’’
‘’You spoke first.’’
‘’Exactly.’’
Your mother laughed.
‘’It’s nice to meet both of you.’’
‘’Nice to meet you too.’’ Seonghyeon replied, then bowed out of respect, Keonho followed. Hearing him speak to your mother felt oddly surreal. Your mother smiled politely.
The second everyone made it upstairs, the energy somehow shifted.
Maybe it was because school had become such a permanent backdrop to all of your interactions that seeing those same people inside your house felt strangely unnatural. Haejin immediately made herself comfortable. Keonho wasn’t much better.
He wandered around without shame, examining random objects on your shelves with the confidence of somebody who had been granted permission despite the fact nobody had actually given him any. Meanwhile, you found yourself standing near your desk, suddenly hyperaware of everything around you.
The room wasn’t messy. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that it was yours.
School only allowed people to know certain versions of each other. Hallway conversations. Lunch breaks. Shared classes. Small pieces. Nobody saw what happened outside of that. Nobody saw your room at midnight when you were studying for exams. Nobody saw the stuff lying on your vanity or the old concert tickets tucked into your mirror frame. Nobody saw the photos you had forgotten were hanging on the wall until this exact moment.
And Seonghyeon seemed to notice everything.
Not in an obvious way. He wasn’t walking around inspecting things. If anything, he seemed quieter than usual. While Keonho was busy making himself at home and Haejin was already flopped across your bed scrolling through her phone, Seonghyeon’s gaze occasionally drifted around the room before moving elsewhere again. Small observations. Brief glances. Yet somehow those felt worse. You couldn’t tell whether he was actually paying attention or whether your brain was simply inventing reasons to be nervous.
“You definitely cleaned.”
You immediately looked at Haejin.
“No.”
“Yes you did.”
“I didn’t.”
“You moved something.”
“I didn’t.”
Haejin’s eyes slowly travelled across the room.
“The cushions downstairs.”
You hated her.
The smile spreading across her face told you she’d won.
“Oh my god. You did move the cushions.”
“I hate talking to you.”
From somewhere beside the bookshelf, a laugh escaped Keonho.
“You cleaned for us?”
“It wasn’t for you.”
The room fell silent for half a second before Haejin started laughing because of Keonho’s reaction. The next hour passed surprisingly quickly. Conversations drifted from one topic to another without much direction. Somebody brought up an old teacher. That somehow became a discussion about embarrassing middle school memories. Then football. Then exams. Then an argument, nobody actually cared about the answer. The argument continued anyway.
At some point, somebody stole your blanket. At some point, Keonho and Haejin became invested in a debate so stupid that the original topic had long since been forgotten.
“You are fundamentally misunderstanding the point.”
“I understand it perfectly.”
“No, you don’t.”
“You’re just wrong.”
“I’m always right.”
“That’s not how opinions work.”
Watching them argue was a bit like watching two people accidentally start a fire and then continue pouring gasoline on it.
Eventually, they ended up sitting on the floor near your television, completely absorbed in whatever nonsense they were discussing now. For the first time all afternoon, the room became quieter. You were sitting near the edge of your bed, scrolling through your phone while the sound of Haejin and Keonho arguing faded into the background. Beside you, Seonghyeon sat comfortably against the wall. Neither of you were really speaking.
The silence wasn’t awkward. A few months ago, silence between you would’ve felt unbearable. Now it barely registered. You scrolled past an old photo without thinking, then immediately scrolled back. A small laugh escaped you.
“What?”
You glanced up.
“Nothing.”
“That’s never true.”
You looked back down at the screen.
“It was from middle school.”
“Let me see.”
Without thinking, you handed him your phone but the second you did, you regretted it. Because the photo was awful. Seonghyeon looked at the screen, then looked at you. He smiled.
“What?” His smile widened.
“You look twelve.”
“I was twelve.”
“You look younger than twelve.”
“Give it back.”
You reached for the phone. At the exact same moment he pulled it slightly away, your hand brushed against his. The movement was tiny, it was barely anything. Yet both of you froze for a second. The noise from the rest of the room suddenly felt strangely distant. You weren’t sure why, it was stupid. People accidentally touched hands all the time, nothing should’ve happened.
Then Seonghyeon handed the phone back.
And somewhere across the room, Haejin suddenly yelled:
“THAT’S LITERALLY NOT WHAT I SAID.”
Seonghyeon didn’t realize he was still thinking about it until he walked straight into his bedroom door. The impact wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it was embarrassing enough that he immediately looked around despite being completely alone. A second later he let out a quiet groan and rubbed a hand over his face.
A few minutes later after showering and changing into comfortable clothes, he found himself sitting on the edge of his bed with a towel draped around his neck. His phone had been abandoned somewhere beside him. Downstairs, he could faintly hear the television playing. Everything felt normal. The day was over. There was absolutely no reason for him to still be thinking about it.
Nothing important had happened. They had gone to y/n’s house, wasted an entire afternoon doing nothing productive, listened to Keonho and Haejin argue about things neither of them cared enough to remember and eventually gone home. That was it. Yet every time Seonghyeon tried focusing on something else, his mind drifted right back there again.
The strangest part wasn’t that he had seen y/n’s room for the first time. It wasn’t even that he had spent several hours with her outside of school. It was the fact that every new thing he had learned about her somehow felt oddly expected. Not because he knew those things already, but because they fit.
The way everything looked slightly messy until you paid attention and realized there was a system behind it. Even the way she’d reacted whenever somebody pointed something out. Half embarrassed. Half annoyed. Like she wanted people to know her but only on her own terms.
A quiet laugh escaped him before he could stop it. He could already imagine how offended she’d be if she knew he was sitting here psychoanalyzing her bedroom.The thought should’ve ended there, instead another one immediately followed.
The look on her face when Haejin exposed the fact that she had obviously cleaned before they arrived. The way she tried denying it despite the evidence being painfully obvious. Then the laugh she’d let out later. Then the smile she’d been trying not to show when he teased her.
Seonghyeon dropped backward onto his mattress and stared at the ceiling. There it was again. That same problem. Every thought somehow led back to her. It was infuriating, it’s like his brain had no originality.
He had known y/n for what? A couple of months? Yet lately it felt like she kept appearing in places she wasn’t even supposed to be. In random thoughts, in conversations, in moments where he was supposed to be focusing on literally anything else. It was getting harder and harder to ignore. For the first time, Seonghyeon found himself staring directly at a possibility he had been avoiding for weeks. Not accepting it. Definitely not accepting it. Just looking at it from a safe distance. Then immediately backing away.
Nope, absolutely not.
For a long moment he simply layed there with one arm thrown across his face, feeling increasingly annoyed with himself. Because the more he thought about it, the worse his life defense became. Maybe there wasn’t some complicated explanation. Maybe the reason he had spent weeks looking for her in crowded hallways, noticing when she wasn’t around, and wondering why everything felt different lately wasn’t because something weird was happening.
Maybe the problem was much simpler than that, and that’s exactly why he didn’t wanna think about it, didn’t wanna consider it.
The problem started with a pencil.
Not because the pencil itself was important. It wasn’t. The pencil belonged to Keonho, who had somehow managed to drop it three separate times during a single class period. By the third time, the teacher looked ready to launch it out the nearest window.
A few people around the classroom were already trying and failing to hide their laughter, while Keonho seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he was seconds away from becoming someone’s least favorite student.
Normally, Seonghyeon would’ve found this entertaining. He probably would’ve made a comment. Maybe laughed. Maybe joined Martin in making fun of Keonho later. Instead, he was staring out the classroom window, his attention drifting somewhere beyond the teacher’s voice and the half finished notes sitting in front of him.
He wasn’t thinking about anything in particular. At least, that was what he told himself. The lesson had become background noise a long time ago, blending together with the scratching of pencils, turning pages and the occasional sigh from students who had already mentally checked out for the day.
Outside, students crossed the courtyard below in small groups. Some were heading back toward the academic building after lunch while others lingered near the benches despite the fact that the break had ended nearly ten minutes ago. From up here everyone looked smaller, moving through familiar routines without much urgency. It was the sort of thing he would’ve glanced at for a second before looking away.
Then movement caught his attention. Someone familiar stepped through the courtyard gate. Immediately, his eyes followed. Which would’ve been fine if he hadn’t recognized her from half a building away. That felt excessive.
The distance alone should’ve made it impossible. He couldn’t even properly see her face from here. Yet somehow he had known it was y/n before he consciously registered any actual details. Before he thought about it. Before he even realized he was paying attention.
She was walking beside somebody. Just some guy from their year that Seonghyeon vaguely recognized. For a moment, he found himself watching longer than necessary. Not because anything unusual was happening. The opposite, actually. They were just talking. The guy said something and y/n laughed before shaking her head slightly. Then the conversation continued as if nothing had happened.
Have they always been friends?
Worked on a project together?
Why was he even thinking about this?
Because he genuinely didn’t care. He shouldn’t, atleast. His eyes remained fixed on the courtyard for another moment before he finally looked away. The strange thing was that nothing about the situation actually bothered him. Y/n was allowed to talk to whoever she wanted. She was allowed to have other friends. The thought shouldn’t have occupied more than two seconds of his attention.
The thought lingered for the rest of the lesson. It followed him when the bell rang, when students immediately began shoving books into bags and when Keonho somehow dropped the same pencil again while standing up.
Seonghyeon barely heard Martin laughing about it beside him. His attention had drifted elsewhere. Not toward the courtyard anymore, but toward the uncomfortable realization itself. A few months ago, he wouldn’t have noticed.
A few months ago, y/n would’ve blended into the hundreds of students moving around campus every day. Not really because there was anything forgettable about her, but because she had never given people a reason to look twice. She wasn’t loud. She didn’t try to draw attention to herself. Half the time she seemed perfectly content existing just outside the center of things.
The weather was unusually good, good enough that nobody wanted to spend lunch indoors. The football field, basketball court and every bench around campus were crowded with students taking advantage of the rare sunshine. Conversations echoed across the courtyard.
Seonghyeon sat on a low concrete wall near the basketball court with Martin, Keonho, James and Juhoon. Or rather, everyone else was sitting. Martin had somehow convinced himself he was the next basketball prodigy and had spent the last ten minutes repeatedly shooting the same ball at the hoop missing every time.
“You know,” James said, watching another failed attempt, “at some point this becomes a public safety hazard.”
Martin caught the rebound.
“You people don’t understand greatness.”
“Stick to football, please.”
Martin looked offended.
Beside them, Keonho was lying dramatically across the wall as if he’d just survived a life threatening event.
“I’ve decided something.”
Nobody reacted.
“I’m serious.”
Still nothing.
“You guys never support me.”
Juhoon didn’t even look up from his phone. “That’s because your ideas are usually terrible.”
“See? Exactly what I’m talking about.”
James sighed.
“What realization have you had now?”
Keonho sat up immediately.
“I should get priority in the cafeteria queue.”
‘’Why?’’
‘’Because i’m an athlete.’’
‘’…and so are we.’’
‘’Yeaaaaah- whatever.’’ Keonho immediately leaned back again.
The bookstore had always felt different after sunset.
Because there were fewer people around, or because the street outside became quieter once the shops started closing for the evening. Whatever the reason, everything seemed softer at night. The warm yellow lights reflected against the shelves, the air smelled faintly of paper and old wood and somewhere near the front counter low music played quietly enough that it blended into the background. It was one of the reasons you came here so often. Nobody bothered you. You could spend an hour staring at the same shelf and nobody would question it.
Which was exactly what you had been doing for the last ten minutes. At least until a familiar voice drifted from somewhere deeper in the store. You didn’t react immediately. At first your brain simply registered the sound as familiar. Then a second passed. Then another. And suddenly your head snapped up.
For a brief moment you genuinely convinced yourself you were imagining things. The possibility would’ve been less embarrassing than the alternative. Slowly, you stepped around the end of a bookshelf and glanced down the next aisle. Immediately, your stomach betrayed you.
Because standing near the back of the store was Seonghyeon. Not somebody who looked like him. It was him. Seeing him here felt like spotting a teacher at the grocery store. Not wrong exactly, just unsettling enough to force your brain to restart.
He was standing beside a rolling cart filled with books, listening while the owner explained something. Every now and then he would nod before reaching over to place another book onto a shelf. Judging by how comfortably he moved around the store, this clearly wasn’t his first time here. Then the owner noticed you. His face brightened instantly. “Y/n.”
Oh great, Seonghyeon was turning around too. For a second, surprise crossed his face. Then he smiled. The same smile that had become increasingly dangerous for your emotional wellbeing over the past few months.
“Hey.’’
It still managed to make your heart forget how to function. The owner looked between the two of you before immediately deciding this was the most entertaining thing that had happened all week.
“You two know each other?”
The silence that followed felt unnecessarily heavy. Technically, the answer was simple. Still, none of you spoke immediately. Eventually Seonghyeon answered first. “We go to school together.”
The owner looked unconvinced. You understood why. Because there was something suspicious about the way Seonghyeon had smiled while saying it. As if the answer was technically true. Just not the entire truth.
The owner eventually disappeared toward the front of the store after receiving a late delivery, leaving the two of you alone with several half empty shelves and a cart stacked with books that apparently needed to be reorganized before closing. The task itself wasn’t particularly difficult, but the aisle he had assigned you to was.
It was narrow enough that every time one of you moved, the other had to adjust accordingly. At first neither of you paid much attention to it. The conversation flowed naturally. It should have felt normal. In theory, it was normal. Still, somewhere between reaching for the same stack of novels and arguing over whether a book belonged in the mystery section or literary fiction, you became increasingly aware of how little space actually existed between the two of you.
You noticed gradually rather than all at once. One moment you were focused on sorting books, the next you found yourself noticing things that shouldn’t have mattered. The sleeves of Seonghyeon’s hoodie were pushed up to his forearms. His hair kept falling into his eyes every few minutes. Every time it did, he would push it back before continuing whatever he was doing. It wasn’t remarkable.
It wasn’t even interesting. Yet for some reason, your attention kept returning to it. Across from you, Seonghyeon wasn’t doing much better. He had spent the last several weeks trying very hard not to think too deeply about certain things, only to discover that being alone with you outside school made that task significantly more difficult. At school there were distractions. Friends, classes, teachers, noise. Here there was only the soft hum of the bookstore, the occasional turning page from a customer somewhere in the distance, and you.
You reached for a book resting near the top shelf at the exact same moment Seonghyeon stepped forward to place another back in its place. Neither of you noticed the timing until it was already too late. The aisle was far too narrow for both movements to happen at once. One second you were focused entirely on the shelf in front of you, the next you found yourself stopping abruptly as Seonghyeon did the same. Far too close.
You hadn’t walked into him. Neither of you had. Yet somehow the distance between you had disappeared anyway. The narrow aisle had trapped both of you in the same small space and now neither of you could move without brushing past the other. Instinctively, you took a small step backward. Though, your shoulder bumped lightly against the bookshelf behind you, leaving nowhere else to go. The movement seemed to catch Seonghyeon’s attention. His eyes flickered toward you before immediately looking away again. Then back. That was worse.
Because now he was actually looking at you. Not casually. Not the way he normally did. The kind of look that lasted a second too long. The kind that made you suddenly aware of every inch separating you.
Neither of you moved. Somewhere outside, a car passed by. Somewhere inside, somebody turned a page. Neither sound felt real. Not compared to this. Not compared to the fact that Seonghyeon was standing close enough for you to notice details you never should have been able to notice. The faint scent of his cologne. The slight rise and fall of his breathing. The way his gaze kept dropping for the briefest moments before returning to your eyes again.
Seonghyeon wasn’t doing much better. A normal person would have stepped away by now. That was the logical thing to do. The obvious thing. Yet for some reason, neither of them seemed capable of being the first one to move. His hand was still resting against the shelf above your shoulder. Not touching you. Close enough that it felt like it.
Close enough that every rational thought in his head had abruptly stopped functioning. He couldn’t even remember what book he had been reaching for. Couldn’t remember what either of you had been talking about thirty seconds ago. All he knew was that you were looking up at him and that suddenly felt like a very torturous thing. The silence stretched. Your eyes dropped briefly, then lifted again.
Mistake.
Because the second your gaze met his again, something shifted. Neither of you moved, yet the distance felt smaller than before. Small enough that for one completely irrational second, the possibility crossed both of your minds at the same time. And judging by the way Seonghyeon’s breathing faltered, he knew it too.
The sound of a stack of books being dropped somewhere near the front counter shattered the moment instantly. Both of you stepped back so fast it almost hurt.
The rest of the evening felt strangely disconnected after that.
You had left the bookstore not long after, mumbling some excuse about needing to get home before it got too late. The owner had teased you for leaving earlier than usual, but you barely remembered what you had said in response. Your brain had been somewhere else entirely.
The walk home should’ve felt familiar. You had taken the same route hundreds of times before. The same streets. The same convenience store on the corner. The same traffic lights that always seemed determined to turn red at the worst possible moment. Yet everything felt slightly off, as if somebody had shifted the world half an inch to the left without telling you.
The problem was that your brain had apparently become incapable of behaving normally whenever he was involved. Every time you replayed the evening, you found yourself stopping at the same moment. Your thoughts kept drifting there on their own. The narrow aisle. The silence. The way neither of you had moved. The way you suddenly became aware of absurd things you never paid attention to before, like how close he was standing or how easy it would’ve been to reach out and touch him.
Meanwhile, Seonghyeon made it approximately twelve minutes before realizing he was completely screwed.
The bookstore owner had eventually returned to find him standing in the wrong aisle holding a book he had already shelved three separate times. Seonghyeon wasn’t usually the type to get distracted. If anything, one of the things people liked most about him was how calm he was under pressure. Football matches didn’t stress him out, presentations didn’t stress him out. Exams stressed him out a little, but not enough to make him lose sleep. One interaction with y/n had completely destroyed his ability to focus. The owner had asked him a question and Seonghyeon had stared at him for three seconds before realizing he had not heard a single word.
Every time he thought he had moved on, he would remember some tiny detail and immediately get distracted again. The way she looked up at him. The way she froze. The fact that neither of them had stepped away immediately. That part bothered him most. A normal person would’ve moved. A normal person would’ve laughed it off and continued shelving books. Instead, they had both just stood there staring at each other like complete idiots until somebody dropped books near the front counter and snapped them back to reality.
The days after the bookstore felt strangely normal on the surface and completely unbearable underneath. Y/n would be halfway through listening to Haejin before suddenly remembering the look on Seonghyeon’s face in that aisle and immediately losing track of the conversation. Seonghyeon wasn’t doing much better. Looking for y/n had somehow become a habit. Not a conscious one. His eyes just seemed to find her automatically now, and what bothered him most wasn’t seeing her. It was when he couldn’t.
By Thursday afternoon, students flooded out of their classrooms as the bell rang. Conversations echoed through the hallways while people pushed toward their next lesson. Seonghyeon was walking with his friends, half listening to whatever argument Keonho was currently having, when he spotted y/n a little ahead. She was walking through the crowd. He didn’t think about it. Not really. The words left his mouth before his brain had the opportunity to intervene.
‘’You coming this friday?’’ The second he said it, she turned around.
‘’What?’’
Seonghyeon blinked, for a moment neither spoke.
‘’Where?’’
And suddenly every functioning thought in Seonghyeon’s head disappeared. Apparently, he had skipped an entire conversation.
‘’You know..’’ He started. No, obviously she didn’t know.
‘’The game.’’ She stared. ‘’The football game?’’
‘’Yeah.’’ Only now did Seonghyeon realize how insane this looked. They had never actually discussed her coming. Not once. For some reason though, it had already become a possibility in his head.
‘’Oh.’’ The hallway suddenly felt far too crowded. ‘’You don’t have to.’’ The words came out faster than he intended and he immediately regretted them, because now it sounded like he didn’t care. Which wasn’t true. Not even remotely. ‘’You could- you-‘’ He paused, then looked at her. Actually looked at her. ‘’I’d like it if you did.’’
Y/n’s heart had stopped functioning. There was no reason that sentence should’ve affected her the way it did. It wasn’t a confession. It wasn’t even flirting. Yet standing there in the middle of a crowded hallway, it felt dangerously close to something else. And suddenly she realized he actually meant it.
He wanted her there. A smile threatened to appear, she fought it immediately and failed. ‘’Okay.’’ The answer came out softer than she had intended.
Something shifted in Seonghyeon’s expression. The tension in his shoulders eased and the smallest smile appeared.
By the time you arrived, most of the stadium was still empty. The match wasn’t starting for another hour, leaving the school caught in that strange period between preparation and chaos. Staff moved equipment across the field, a few students wandered through the entrance gates and somewhere deeper inside the athletic building, the football team was getting ready. You honestly hadn’t planned on coming this early. At least, that was what you kept telling yourself. The hallway leading toward the locker rooms was nearly deserted when you spotted him.
Seonghyeon was standing beside a row of lockers, already dressed in his uniform, one hand resting against the metal door while he searched through his bag for something. For a moment, you simply watched. It felt unfair how normal he looked. Like he hadn’t spent the last few weeks slowly becoming the cause of half your problems.
Maybe he felt you staring, because a second later he looked up and smiled. Not the polite smile. Not the one he gave teachers. The real one. The one that always seemed to appear before he could stop it.
“You know the game’s not starting for another hour, right?” The greeting caught you off guard.
“What, you’re kicking me out already?”
“No,” he said immediately, a little too quickly.
“I’m just trying to figure out why you’re here this early.”
You adjusted the strap of your bag. “Maybe I have nothing better to do.”
“That’s depressing.” You stared at him.
“You’re about to play an important match.”
“And you’re making fun of me.”
“I’m helping you stay humble.” A laugh escaped him, and for a moment neither of you said anything else. The conversation should’ve ended there. It didn’t. For some reason, Seonghyeon was still standing there. For some reason, you were too.
“You nervous?” you asked eventually.
“About the game?” You nodded.
“Unless you’re secretly taking a math exam afterwards.” His smile returned.
“A little.” The answer surprised you, it sounded genuine.
“You?” he asked. You frowned. “What?”
“Nervous.”
“Why would I be nervous?” Something shifted in his expression. “Good question.” The look he gave you made your stomach drop because suddenly it didn’t feel like you were talking about football anymore.
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. That was the problem. It felt too easy. Too comfortable. The kind of silence that only happened when you genuinely liked being around someone. You looked away first, which immediately turned out to be a mistake because the second you did, you became aware of how close he was standing. Not close enough to be strange. Close enough to matter. When you looked back up, Seonghyeon was already looking at you.
Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. The hallway felt quieter than before, and you couldn’t remember what you had been about to say. His gaze dropped for the briefest second before lifting again. The movement was tiny. It still made your heart nearly stop. For the first time since you had met him, Seonghyeon looked completely thrown off, like he was realizing something at the exact same time you were.
The realization hung between you. Neither of you acknowledged it. Neither of you looked away. The distance somehow felt smaller now. A lot smaller. You weren’t sure whether one of you had stepped forward or if you had simply stopped paying attention to everything except him. Seonghyeon let out a quiet breath. His eyes flickered down again. This time neither of you pretended not to notice. The moment stretched. One second. Two. Three. Long enough for your pulse to start racing. Long enough for him to look like he’d completely forgotten where he was.
Long enough that if either of you moved even slightly-
“SEONGHYEON!”
The shout echoed through the hallway, making both of you jump apart so fast it was embarrassing. A teammate appeared around the corner. “Coach is looking for you.” Seonghyeon genuinely looked annoyed. Actually annoyed. Which somehow made everything worse.
“Yeah.” he muttered. The teammate disappeared again, leaving the two of you standing there in the aftermath of something neither of you seemed willing to acknowledge.
Then Seonghyeon rubbed the back of his neck and let out a short laugh. “I should probably go before he benches me.”
“Probably.”
Then he looked at you properly. Not past you. Not around you. At you.
‘’Stay until the game finishes.’’
You blinked.
‘’What?’’
‘’You came all the way here, it’d be rude to leave earlier.’’ The excuse was terrible, both of you knew it. You were smiling. You gave him a reassuring hum. His own smile softened.
The whistle blew before you were ready for it.
Almost immediately, the atmosphere shifted. The scattered conversations around the stadium disappeared beneath the sound of cheering as both teams surged forward. Whatever relaxed energy had existed before kickoff vanished entirely. Suddenly everything felt louder. Faster. More important. You tried focusing, you really did.
For the first few minutes, your attention stayed where it was supposed to. The ball moved rapidly across the field, players weaving around each other while the crowd reacted to every near miss and interception. It was impossible not to get caught up in it. Even people who barely cared about football seemed invested tonight.
Then your thoughts wandered. Without warning, your mind dragged you back to the hallway. To the silence. To the way Seonghyeon had looked at you. A collective groan erupted from the crowd. You blinked. Apparently you missed something.
“That would’ve been such a good goal!’’ Haejin complained beside you.
“Are you even watching?’’
‘’I am.’’
‘’You’re not!’’
Before you could argue, the game resumed and your attention returned to the field. This time it stayed there for a while.The match itself was good. Really good. Both teams were evenly matched which only made the atmosphere more intense. Every attack felt intense. Every mistake earned a reaction from the crowd. By the time twenty minutes had passed, even you had stopped pretending not to care. A player from the opposing team broke through the defense. The stadium collectively held its breath. The shot missed by centimeters and the entire crowd exploded. Students jumped to their feet.
And before you realized it, you were standing too. For a moment, you just stared then slowly sat back down.
Huh. Maybe football wasn’t completely boring.
The final minutes of the match passed in a blur. The score was tied. Every touch of the ball seemed to pull a reaction from the crowd, every mistake earning groans and every opportunity drawing people to the edge of their seats. Even students who barely cared about football were standing now. The atmosphere had become infectious. Somewhere beside you, Haejin had completely abandoned any attempt at acting normal. She was half standing, half leaning over the railing, reacting to every play as if her life depended on it.
The clock was running down when Seonghyeon received the ball near midfield. The crowd immediately reacted. Maybe it was because everybody trusted him. Whatever the reason, the second he moved forward thousands of eyes followed. Including yours. The play happened so quickly you barely had time to process it. A pass. A turn. Somebody shouting. Then suddenly the ball hit the back of the net. The stadium exploded, the noise that had erupted was unbelievable.
Students jumped to their feet. Teammates rushed across the field. People screamed loud enough to make your ears ring. Somewhere beside you, Haejin grabbed your shoulders and started shaking you like she had personally scored the goal herself. You laughed in surprise.
The first thing Seonghyeon did after his teammates swarmed him was lift his head and look at you. The distance between you was enormous. The field, the track, hundreds of people, yet he found you.
The final whistle blew moments later. The match was over. The celebration wasn’t. Students immediately flooded toward the exits, some heading for the field while others crowded around friends and teammates. The entire stadium seemed alive with movement. You lingered for a while, letting people pass before eventually gathering your things.
You weren’t entirely sure where you were going. Only that suddenly being surrounded by hundreds of people felt overwhelming. The night air was cooler outside the stadium. The noise became quieter with every step until it faded into the background completely. For the first time all evening, you were alone with your thoughts.
You had almost reached the corner of the building when you heard footsteps behind you. You turned around, it was Seonghyeon. He was still wearing his uniform, still slightly out of breath. He looked at you, the corners of Seonghyeon’s mouth lifted first.
“You were leaving.”
You laughed softly.
“Why does everybody keep accusing me of that?”
“Because you keep doing it.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
Maybe you would’ve argued. Maybe you would’ve defended yourself. You found yourself smiling instead. The noise from the stadium felt distant now. The world seemed smaller somehow. Reduced to the stretch of pavement between the two of you and the fact that neither of you seemed interested in leaving.
A group of students passed somewhere behind Seonghyeon still loud from the match, still arguing over goals and missed opportunities and who deserved credit for the win. One of them called his name. Normally he would’ve responded automatically. You had seen it happen a hundred times before. Yet he didn’t even turn around. His attention never left you. Something about that made your stomach flip.
For months, Seonghyeon had existed in constant motion. Surrounded by teammates, friends, conversations. There was always somebody looking for him. Always somewhere else he needed to be. Now, after one of the biggest matches of the season, after scoring the winning goal, after spending two hours being pulled in every direction, he was standing here looking at you like the rest of the world had become background noise.
The smile on Seonghyeon’s face faded slightly. Your pulse sped up immediately, you knew. Not what he was thinking, not exactly. However, you knew this moment mattered.
The distance between you felt ridiculous, like it was the only thing both of you could focus on. Every second stretched longer than it should have. Your heart was beating so hard, you became painfully aware of it.
Seonghyeon took a step forward. You hated how quickly your breath caught. You hated how your eyes immediately dropped before finding his again. You hated that he noticed. You were standing close enough to notice details you never should’ve noticed. The faint flush lingering across his cheeks from the match. The way his hair had fallen messily across his forehead. The fact that he looked just as overwhelmed as you felt.
Your hand found the sleeve of his jersey before you even realized what you were doing. The second your fingers curled around the fabric, Seonghyeon’s eyes dropped to your hand. Then back to you. Something in his expression completely softened. Then finally, after a dreadful amount of missed chances and interrupted moments and terrible timing,
Seonghyeon kissed you.
The football field, the crowd, the noise from the stadium, all of it disappeared into the background until there was nothing left except the overwhelming realization that this was actually happening. The kiss wasn’t rushed, it felt like both of you had spent so long circling around this moment that neither of you quite knew what to do once you had reached it. Your grip tightened slightly against his jersey without meaning to, and something about that made his hand find yours.
You had spent weeks turning Seonghyeon into a problem inside your head. Something complicated. Something impossible to ignore. Yet standing here now, there was nothing complicated about it.
Then, your lips crashed against his. Off-center at first, your nose bumping his jaw accidentally before you corrected. You were pulling him closer. Seonghyeon had reacted immediately, his hands reached to cup your face delicately. His lips were warm and softer than you had expected for a boy who felt so intimidating and cold at first. The contrast sent something sharp down your spine.
He shifted one of his hands to your waist, the touch light at first, like he was questioning if you’d pull away. You didn’t, you kissed him harder. He tilted his head, adjusting the angle, and suddenly the kiss fit differently, better, deeper. His chest was pressed against yours. Your heart was pounding, he could feel it. Or maybe it was his own heart.
His thumb was brushing along your cheekbone, tilting your face up to meet his more fully. He kissed you properly now, he matched your energy. He kissed you until his lips were numb, he kissed you with genuine love. He kissed you like he was trying to get inside your skin. He was a mess for you. He took over the pacing, guiding slowly through it.
At some point, neither of you seemed to care how long you had been standing there. When you finally pulled apart, it wasn’t because either of you wanted to. It was because breathing had become somewhat important. The distance between you barely existed. Seonghyeon’s hand remained at your waist, his forehead nearly brushing yours as both of you tried to remember how to function.
You simply looked at each other. Weirdly, after months of wondering and guessing and pretending not to notice, that felt like enough. For the first time since all of this started, neither of you had to question it anymore.
Seonghyeon liked you.
You liked Seonghyeon.
And after everything it had taken to get here, It felt so good.
The next morning felt strangely normal. The school building was still crowded. Students still dragged themselves through the hallways half awake. Somewhere down the corridor, Martin was already being unnecessarily loud before first period had even started.
He was greeting everyone with the biggest smile plastered across his face, he was way too happy at 8:30 in the morning. Not as happy as you though. Your cheeks hurt, genuienly hurt reaching the main building. Everytime you remembered yesterday, another smile appeared before you could stop it. You were very warm, you just hoped it wasn’t obvious externally.
‘’You look happy.’’
You looked up, Seonghyeon was standing beside your locker. Immediately your smile got worse, a strange feeling in your stomach had come from nowhere when you looked at him.
‘’Hi.’’
He smiled.
His hand found yours so naturally it almost sent shivers through your body. His fingers slipping through yours as though they’d belonged there since forever. The action sent a completely unreasonable amount of warmth through your chest.
the two of you started walking toward your classroom. The hallway buzzed with conversation around you, people moving in every direction. A few students greeted Seonghyeon as they passed. He greeted them back automatically. Everything felt familiar. Yet every few steps your attention drifted toward your joined hands again. It was such a small thing.
“You know,” Seonghyeon said after a moment, glancing sideways, “you look less tired today.” You immediately narrowed your eyes. “You said I looked tired.”
“I said you were tired.”
“No.’’
“I meant it differently.”
“Sure.”
You tried very hard not to smile. Failed immediately. Beside you, Seonghyeon looked equally hopeless. The two of you reached your classroom far too quickly. Students were already filtering inside. The bell would ring any minute now. Neither of you seemed particularly eager to acknowledge that. Eventually, Seonghyeon stopped outside the door.
“So.”
‘’So.’’
A smile appeared, and a matching one answered it. Then Seonghyeon sqeezed your hand once before letting you go.
✚ Rapper!Martin x fan!Reader ⋮ pt2 ⋮ bananagirl masterlist
desc - you’ve been a fan of martins music since before he was on all streaming platforms, since before he was doing live performances and headlining for famous artists. And one day he suddenly deleted your favorite niche song of his off all platforms and you thought the best thing to do is to DM him about it, even though you knew he would never see it in the floods of all his DMs.
note - listen I know I said I was going on hiatus but I got really bored and js wanted to post smth so I made this BUT AS SOON AS I POST THIS I WILL OFFICIALLY BE ON HIATUS I NEED TO GET OFF TUMBLR HOLY SHIT ITS AN ADDICTION 😭😭🙏🙏
after everything—the racism, prejudices, tabloids, endless attempts to tear him down—a black man who endured more scrutiny and cruelty than anyone ever should has a legacy that continues to speak for itself.
michael is your best friend, but he's also the person you dream about kissing, holding, and touching. when the two of you finally cross that line, you're convinced that what happened meant something, you confess your feelings—only for michael to admit he isn't sure he feels the same way. heartbroken, you move on. somehow, you're able to. michael isn't. ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ
tags: angst, best friends to lovers, unrequited love, friends to strangers, slow burn, mutual pining, emotional hurt, hurt/no comfort, first kiss, rejection, friendship breakup, yearning, longing, michael jackson x reader, bittersweet ending
1984, los angeles, encino
the night breeze is gentle, it caresses your face and your bare arms. you should have brought a sweater. encino is never really cold. but today it seems different. you didn't knock at the studio door yet. you're thinking about going back home.
it's not like you don't want to see him.
well, you can go home. you'll call him saying you suddenly caught a nasty cold—and he won't ask any questions. it's a good excuse. you're staring at the door as if you could see through it.
thinking. thinking and thinking. when did you become so avoidant?
you don't have the time to answer. he opens the door before you can finish your thought. he seems tired. his eyes are weary. but when he sees you, a brilliant glance sparkles in his face.
for a single moment it is just you and him. he's wearing a red sweater and blue jeans.
you open your mouth to say anything to fill the silence. but he's faster than you. his voice is low and warm. it gives you goosebumps.
"i thought you weren't coming anymore." he grabs your wrist and pulls you to the studio while closing the door behind him.
"i would call you if this was the case. so, what are you doing mike?" the studio is a total mess—notes all over the wall. michael has been preparing his new album. the only song you heard so far was thriller. and it was exceptional in many ways.
he's sitting in front of the mixing desk. but he's not looking at it. instead he's looking at you. "i wanna show you this new song"
"do you already have a name for it?"
"i'm thinking about calling it the lady in my life" he drops the name carefully. he observes your reaction. you asked because you're genuinely curious about it. you obviously weren't expecting his answer to be that. the lady in my life.
"is there a lady in your life, mike?" the hint of jealousy in your voice is hidden behind your wide smile. actually, you don't want to know the answer to your question. you want to take your words back.
"it's just a song." it doesn't seem like it is just a song for you. michael presses the play button. he walks in your direction, sitting by your side on the brown couch.
this routine isn't new for you nor for him. going to the harveydurst late at night, spending hours talking with michael, hearing his voice. but your heart beating a bit fast because of him is something new.
he's so close to you now. you inhale his woody fragrance, his big hands are pressed on his thigh. and then, you catch yourself staring at him.
michael has always known how pretty you are. you're looking at him with your fascinating eyes—he swears that he could drown himself into them. he would be lying if he said he doesn't think about you in this way. because the problem is that he does.
you drift your gaze to his mouth. there is something in the air that makes you lean into him. suddenly, you're out of breath when he grips your waist. his hand is like a blaze on your body. you're so near him. it's scary but at the same time you want more. do his lips taste as good as they seem? does he feel the same as you?
(lay back in my tenderness) lay back with me
(you are the lady in my life) let me touch you, girl.
(rock me with your sweet caress) lay back with me
(always the lady in my life) all over, all over, all over
(ooh, girl, let me keep you warm) all over, all over, all over
the song is over. but you are still in the same position. he moistens his lips—and takes his hand away from your body. it's suddenly cold. he's not looking at you anymore. and you realize what is happening.
he's going to pretend nothing happened. he's going to put you in the best friend box. and you don't want to see this happening. not now.
"do you like the song?"
"yes, i did. it was pretty good, mike" your voice sounds tired.
"huh, i wanted to show you another demo—"
"look, i think i should go now. i'm pretty tired" he raises one eyebrow. he doesn't believe any word that you have said. he clenches his jaw without even realizing it and says:
"don't go."
two words.
only two words.
and you know you're already surrounded.
"no?"
"it's too late. we can watch a movie and it has been a while since you saw bubbles. bill can take you home tomorrow morning."
"well, since you insist. i want strawberry ice cream, alright?"
"everything for you."
only if he meant it.
the movie is singing in the rain—the ice cream tastes better than ever. but you still can feel the bittersweet rejection, you're still thinking about his hands on you. you're michael jackson's best friend and that is the only title you will ever have in his life. you suppress all the feelings inside of you. they will be locked in your heart. you can do it—he smiles at you when gene kelly holds on to the pole.
i'm only his friend. i'm only his best friend—that sentence is like a mantra to you. the connection you felt hours ago was your mind playing games with you.
he doesn't see you in any different way. but you swear that sometimes…you can see a glimpse…of something you know very well: love.
bill takes you home at 5am.
you don't say goodbye to him.
you stop appearing late at night in harveydurst, but you never cut his friendship off. late night at harveydurst became late-night phone calls. it was a double-edged sword. you couldn't turn back to your usual friendship with him—and you could not stop yourself from keeping an emotional attachment to him.
but he was still yours. your best friend. the person you have known for such a long time. you're the one he would vent to. you're the one he would chase comfort from.
maybe it was selfish of you to want to hold a special place. even if it was not romantic in his heart. you just didn't want to be forgotten—you couldn't let him go.
the next time you see him is a week after the grammys. he made it. he won 8 grammys. you called him on the same night. that's the reason you weren't expecting to see him at your door a week later. saying that he wanted to celebrate with you.
he's standing against the kitchen island while observing you peeling the oranges. you cut them in the middle. and finally squeeze them into the glass.
"i missed your orange juice"
"did you?"
"yes, i did. they don't make orange juice like you"
"yeah, i doubt that"
"i missed you. you stopped appearing there"
"what are you saying, mike? you still talk with me almost every day"
"but it's different, you know. i feel that you're avoiding me. girl, i need to know why." he reaches to grab the glass. however, he leans into you.
"stop worrying about nothing. everything is fine"
his eyes search for every trace of the truth in your face, it's suffocating—you have never been good at hiding anything from him.
"do you promise me?"
"mike……"
"baby—i just…. it sucks being away from you."
you swallow hard.
he never called you baby. maybe it's because of the way he's staring at your lips—or maybe it's because he is too close. you don't know what it is, but when you feel his nose brushing yours, you kiss him.
it's not gentle. it's hungry. you're devouring his lips. you're searching for his tongue. he firmly grabs your waist, stroking your back—causing a fire inside you. you're shamelessly drowning in his arms. when you feel yourself running out of breath—you touch his chest.
your lips are now barely touching, and you're breathing each other's air. you're aroused by it. he kisses you again, but this time he swirls his tongue against yours. you're addicted. you want more. more and more.
your sloppy lips are proof of what happened. he's resting his forehead against yours. and you give a slight smile. the thought of you being in his arms today never crossed your mind. but there you are.
maybe you're too dizzy, but when you say the next words it isn't surprising for you. because it's the truth.
"i love you, mike." your voice is soft and careful.
you say it like it's something easy. because loving him was always so easy to you. he doesn't answer. he takes a step back, bites his lip, and pinches the bridge of his nose.
you have seen these actions so many times.
at this moment you know what is happening.
your worst nightmare is happening.
he can't stare at you anymore. he finds something more interesting on the floor. his voice is hesitant and full of something else. it's the dreadful guilt.
"i'm sorry, i didn't mean that"
you don't answer. you can't answer. because the embarrassment is taking over you.
he's out of your view now. when you hear the sound of the door closing, you know that he's really leaving you behind.
he leaves your home as easily as he came in.
his unfinished juice is on the table. you grab it and throw it on the floor. the pieces of broken glass are portraits of your own soul now.
it's shattering. all of it. you feel your eyes filled with tears. and they drop. one by one. until you sob like a lunatic. for a moment, you thought it would be real. not for a moment, for 10 minutes. you and he were real. because there is no explanation for the way he holds you. daydreaming. illusion. it was all of it mixed with hope. you had hope that you finally would be chosen. you thought you had more value. your foolish heart was living in a fairy tale.
you spent weeks crying. trying to find a valid reason for his reaction. and you came to the simple conclusion. he just wasn't in love with you. you were his best friend and nothing more. you were on a friendship shelf. that was your label. his feelings for you weren't mutual. unrequited love. that was it.
you stop crying. because it doesn't matter if he doesn't love you. he is still the same guy who made sure to fill his freezer with your favorite ice cream. or the same guy who would show you his lyrics. the same guy who would share a bit of his dream with you.
you took your time. you finally could breathe without being a ghost of your own feelings. you will call him. because you need closure. you need an ending—not of your friendship with him. but you need to get rid of this longing affection.
everything will be back to its own place.
you thought so.
you dial the harveydurst phone number without any effort. you remember this number as your own.
you took a breath before pressing the call button. the phone line rings three times. then, you're finally answered.
the other voice doesn't talk first—but you recognize his breathing. and something in your chest hurts—the memories. your not-so-hidden feelings. for the first time you're scared. but you don't hang up. you go on.
"mike, it's me. can we talk?"
"i don't think it's a good idea—"
"are we still friends?" that's all you want to know. you don't need his love. you just need his friendship.
"....i have to turn it off now"
you don't wait for him to turn it off. you turn it off first. his lack of answer is everything you need to know, and it haunts you. because for some reason, you think it is your fault. it's crushing. it's painful. all that you ever know is erased from your soul. because that means….he never saw your friendship as something as important as you did. all the moments you shared with him—it was all not that important to him. you have no reaction—besides lying in your bed and crying. because if only you never had kissed him—he would still be by your side.
two months later is when you finally stop crying for him. it felt like a loss. you were mourning a friendship. first you stop watching every channel on television. he was everywhere. second you got rid of his records. including the jackson ones. third you stopped listening to your favorite radio station.
you almost became an eremite.
the hardest thing was to not call him. you wanted to beg him for a proper answer. you wanted to hear his voice trembling. but you didn't.
you stood it by yourself.
you moved on—you didn't care about seeing him on the tv anymore. you listened to his songs on the radio. he became michael jackson—the legend. the king of pop. an unknown for you. a total stranger for your heart and soul.
a very long note: guys, GUYS. normally i stopped reading celebrity fanfiction since it kind of icks me now. however with my regrowing infatuation with michael, i would like to pay an homage to the 16 year old me. so here it is in all its glory. please don’t get annoyed that there is not much smut though. i don’t really get along with it. i want to go back and cuddle him so most of them are just fluff, comfort and angst (duh, who am i without that type of anguish) enjoy! |main masterlist
SERIES- MULTI CHAPTERS
past exposure • michael jackson x time traveller!reader
↳ by @thedailymichael (multiple eras, time travelling au)
the jackson chronicles • michael jackson x spouse!reader
↳ by @imhandicapableofmath (so domestic, married!michael, suggestive, fluff)
desire, interrupted | desire, reclaimed • michael jackson x fem!reader
↳ by @urbanfunkchild (dangerous/history era, smut, angst, soft fluff)
you knock me off my feet | part two | part three • michael jackson x newrisintvocalist!reader
↳ by @comoquesoybambi (bad era, michael is basically obsessed)
my little reporter | part two • michael jackson x journalist!reader
↳ by @/am3sss (bad era, fluff)
again | part two | michael jackson x dancer!reader
↳ by @tpwkyarely (angst, hurt/comfort)
beautiful stranger | part two • michael jackson x fem!reader
↳ by @mjuniverse (pre thriller era, slow burn, yearning, very angsty, right person, wrong time, soft!michael)
gone by morning | part two • michael jackson x fem!reader
↳ by @startingsomethin (thriller-bad era, angst, cheating, smut, fluff)
spotlight • michael jackson x popstar!reader
↳ by @hcwait (thriller era, slow burn)
making of an it girl | part two • michael jackson x tourdancer!reader
↳ by @intelligenthottie
baby be mine | thrill you tonight • michael jackson x girlnextdoor!reader
↳ by @iceemochaa (post otw-pre thriller era, fluff, slightly suggestive)
stargirl | part two • michael jackson x singer !reader
↳ by @ytrhbz (thriller era, whipped!michael, fluff)
remember the time | part two | part three • michael jackson x fem!reader
↳ by @chmpngekisses (thriller-bad era, angst)
his new obsession | part two • michael jackson x reader
↳ by @luvvreader (yearning, slow burn)
by your side | part two • michael jackson x actress!reader
↳ by @svnnywrites (thriller era, hurt/comfort)
ONE-SHOTS-BLURBS-HC’S
baby be mine • michael jackson x reader
↳ by @angelfacediary (otw-bad era, angst, fluff)
nine months of home videos • michael jackson x reader
↳ by @angelfacediary (pregnant!reader, so so so fluffy)
out of time • michael jackson x fem!reader
↳ by @urelliee (bad era, angst, heartbreak, very bittersweet)
pretty young thing • michael jackson x fem!reader
↳ by @tpwkyarely (angst, comfort, tw: dv)
through his lens • thriller!michael jackson x reader
↳ by @neverlandzangel (thriller era, married!michael, fluff, domestic bliss)
arrow through the heart • michael jackson x fem!reader
↳ by @startingsomethin (dangerous era, oh so angsty)
excuse me that’s my wife • michael jackson x reader
↳ by @mvsticmoony (jealous!michael, fluff)
where is my husband! • michael jackson x singer!reader
↳ by @mvsticmoony (fluff)
love caught on tape • michael jackson x reader
↳ by @mvsticmoony (invincible era, flashbacks, married life fluff)
a love letter to june • michael jackson x fan!reader
↳ by @hcwait (dangerous era, very fluffy)
in sickness and in health • michael jackson x fem!reader
↳ by @king-mila (bad era, protective!michael, sick!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort)
america’s sweetest bunny • michael jackson x reader
↳ by @michaeldiary (dangerous era, playboymodel!reader, sooo fluffy, slightly suggestive)
little pieces of her • michael jackson x fem!reader
↳ by @brownsugarletters (thriller era, fluff)
young hearts, run free • michael jackson x guitarist!reader
↳ by @shakinghamster (thriller era, fluff, workplace romance, cheating)
unforgettable • michael jackson x fan!reader
↳ by @ytrhbz (history era, fluff, reader is that girl)
cause if it’s aching, you have to rub it • michael jackson x fem!black!reader
↳ by @serenebows (thriller era, shy!reader, fluff)
all over, all over, all over • michael jackson x fem!reader
↳ by @hon3yarchives (dangerous era, fluff, suggestive)
sign the girls • michael jackson x reader
↳ by @michaelpilled (thriller era, suggestive, flirting)
a memory to look back on • michael jackson x pregnant!reader
↳ by @lovecherishly (bad era, soo fluffy)
sweet tooth • michael jackson x sweet!reader
↳ by @carmaloves (bad era, so very fluffy)
stuck in the elevator • michael jackson x reader
↳ by @londynham (romance, fluff, angst)
working overtime • michael jackson x fem!reader
↳ by @urbanfunkchild (pre bad era, kind of smutty, possessive!michael)
love never felt so good • michael jackson x fem!black!reader
↳ by @proseandj (invincible era, fluff)
like a stradivarius • michael jackson x gn!spouse!reader
↳ by @imhandicapableofmath (married!michael, domestic fluff, humour, suggestive)
“she thinks you smell like cinnamon” • michael jackson x gn!spouse!reader
↳ by @imhandicapableofmath (married!michael, fanfiction meta, emotional comfort, teasing, fluff)
#1 loverboy • michael jackson x gn!reader
↳ by @invincibledc (bad era, fluff)
read my lips • michael jackson x deaf!black!reader
↳ by @invincibledc (protective!michael, fluff)
home movies • michael jackson x pregnant!reader
↳ by @ktrsis (bad-invincible era, flashbacks, soo fluffy)
the lady in my life • michael jackson x fem!reader
↳ by @cupcakeprincezz (thriller era, fluff)
surprise visit • michael jackson x fem!reader
↳ by @cupcakeprincezz (bad era, very fluffy)
secret touch • michael jackson x fem!singer!reader
↳ by @invinor (dangerous era, fluff)
inspiration • michael jackson x singer!reader
↳ by @liyahhsnuckhere (pre bad era, sooooo fluffy, suggestive)
the chateau • michael jackson x younger!fem!reader
↳ by @elleist (dangerous era, fluff, very cute)
imagine sitting on his lap
↳ by @humannatures (fem!reader, fluff)
tabloid junkie • michael jackson x fem!reader
↳ by @moonlitjane (protective!reader, fluff, suggestive)
hidden in the spotlight • superstar!michael jackson x costumedesigner!fem!reader
↳ by @gh0ulxxc (dangerous era, angst, fluff, romance, slow burn)
michael gaining a habit by checking your pulse/heartbeat to make sure your there ‧ ₊ ˚ . library !
in big, large crowds michaels anxiety would pick up. sure, he should have been used to it. it was his job. but the man couldn’t help it. that’s why he loved having you around. you were his ground, his medium. if you weren’t there his security made sure to at least have something that reminded him of you to ground him. yet nothing eased him more than you, physically being there.
one thing he loved to do was check your pulse. even just pressing his two fingers, lightly against your wrist. or pressing his kisses down a bit hard at the pulse point at your neck. those little things helped him more than you realized. when nights got crazy with his dad, all he wanted to hear was the steady thump of your heartbeat. it calmed him. some nights you would wake up at 2 in the morning to hear him crying over the phone, begging for you to put the phone speaker against your chest. and you did, and it helped him.
one night whilst he thought you were sleeping he confessed. exposing how most night he couldn’t sleep without you. explaining how your heart beat was like a nursery rhyme for him. making him fall asleep instantly. telling you how much he loved to hear it, how it consoled him. you almost cried on the spot hearing how seen you were. michael still doesn’t know that you were awake that entire time.
in all honesty you hadn’t picked up on that small habit until the late night phone calls. you didn’t mind, it was cute. you loved the fact that your man had to feel your steady heart beat just to make sure you were there. other times, it hurt you. thinking about him having this feeling that your not real, too good for him.
but, michael would be michael. continuing to keep the habit. making your neck, your left upper chest, and your wrist to be his favorite kiss points. also asking if he could sample your heartbeat for an upcoming song in his bad album.
ᰔᩚ you and michael are in the studio recording man in the mirror while bickering and teasing each other + quincy finding it utterly hilarious.
michael had blown up your answering machine for almost a week now. repeated calls with the same mantra — “hey, it’s michael,” a small pause with the sound of papers rustling around.
“i was wondering if you’d want to, uhh, partner up…for a song” and right as you thought it was sorta endearing that he thought of you of all people — his pop queen counterpart to be in a song with — he continued, “quincy has been insisting i ask..” que the eyeroll.
“just give me a call back, you know my number..goodnight” overall it sounded like a good deal but you were painfully stubborn. you had a shtick of never doing collabs. they felt conformist and draining. forcing yourself to sit by someone in the studio for hours knowing the two of you will not be continuing a friendship afterwards. ugh.
you tossed your lyric filled notebook onto the coffee table and stalk over to the phone to delete your voicemails. “take a hint” you muttered to no one. turning on your heels to continue writing, your phone lets out a loud ring. you quickly cock your head to the side in annoyance. 10:35 p.m. the clock read. “who on earth — hello?” you questioned the silence in the other end.
“hey, sweet girl” quincy’s voice was warm and sweet, the stark opposite of your sharp and mean greeting. you let out a sigh already knowing why quincy was calling this late. “quincy, did michael make you call?” “sweetheart, we both would love to have your voice on this track” he tried to reason. michael was so sneaky. he knew how much respect you had for quincy, he was like a second father to you. this made it incredibly hard to say no to him especially when he’s the main reasons for your fame in the first place. “what’s the title of the track?” you asked.
Westlake Recording Studios, Los Angeles
the studio was busy to say the least. forgotten food, empty coffee cups, scattered papers, miscellaneous instruments, an insane amount of wires and three people trying to reach an agreement.
“instead of message, can you say messahge” michael asked with a slight twang on the word. you slipped your headphones back on using them as a makeshift headband to hold back your curls.
your voiced carried around the studio following michael’s suggestion.
“and no message could’ve been any clearer” as soon as you finished the note you looked at michael who had a pleased expression, and that was what caused your 50th eye roll of the night. unfortunately, michael immediately saw.
“what was that about” he squinted at you.
“what was what about” you argued back.
“it’s not nice to roll your eyes at someone”
“oh please, as if-“ your rebuttal cut off by a loud quincy.
“kids please” quincy pled, rewinding the tape so you both can sing again.
“kids?” you and michael questioned simultaneously. all quincy could do was laugh, the track had restarted and you both had to lock back in on recording background vocals.
michael watched as you sung your dedicated lines. he swayed side to side while chewing on the headphone cord, and patting his thighs to the rhythm. deep inside he wanted to compliment you, thank you for taking your time out of your busy schedule, but you both were tired, hungry, and agitated. it wasn’t the time for soft spoken compliments. instead he turned to quincy and gave a thumbs up that quincy also returned.
“hey antsy pants, i can hear you moving while i sing” you fuss.
“you know, when you complain you sound like carol burnett” michael muttered while turning the pages in his lyric book.
a dramatic gasp left your mouth and you put a hand over your chest, exaggerating your offended nature. quincy took this as an opportunity to pull out a camera. after pressing all the right buttons he panned the camera up, aiming it at the both of you.
the footage was shaky and grainy. you could be seen with one hand on your hip and the other pointing a very accusing finger at michael. michael on the other hand was staring at you with nothing but infatuation, his mouth was slightly agape as if he wanted to argue but was too amused.
then quincy’s voice could be heard from behind the camera.
“one day we’re gonna look back on this footage…and it’s gonna be at their wedding” quincy said — not so quietly.
all of a sudden the bickering stopped. sorta. your face slowly turned to the camera. with one eyebrow raised your pointed finger was now pointed at quincy and if anything michael’s smile just got bigger.
“i didn’t even know she could hear me.” was the last thing the camera heard before the tape cut.
summary: set in a world where michael felt a little less alone at the top of it all. alina belova has grown up in the public eye from child star to pop star, increasingly moving away from her adorable childhood image to a mature woman wanting to take control of her own life and identity. having known michael since she was young, it feels nice to talk and even bicker with someone that can relate.
notes: hello everyone! this is part 5 of an ongoing series. let me know how you like it! if you have any requests or any one shot ideas feel free to send them my way :)
disclaimer: i give absolutely no permission to share my work without credit or use it to train AI !!
chapter 5 - remember
“Be honest with me…is Michael Jackson going to kill me?”
Alina let out a scoff as she picked at her breakfast with her fork, not having the appetite to take a bite, “Don’t be silly”.
“Don’t be silly?” Marko exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, “He looks like he wants to throw me to the sharks, Alina. Will you say I was silly when you find my body washed up on shore? – No, no, no, this is what I get for trying to be a good person”
That earned a small chuckle out of the popstar, though it took up more energy than she cared to admit. “You didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, the real problem has nothing to do with you. I’ll handle this” She looked up with a small sigh, “I’m sorry you got dragged into this. I appreciate you for checking up on me. Could you please keep this between us?”
“Ah, why would I even tell anyone? I’d be a dead man,” Marko waved off with a grumble, “I went to Juilliard. I can’t fight- and don’t smile at me again, it makes him angrier”.
It was more than difficult to ignore the looming presence of the King of Pop. While he sat on the opposite side of the dining area, it was as if he was breathing down her neck – watching her every move for the right moment to pounce.
Poor Marko had to deal with not making eye contact with his deathly glare as she remained with her back facing him. She was still unable to get out of her funky mood and find the right words to say to him nor what would be the correct action to take, having a bad habit of closing herself off when situations got too real. Too risky. Lost in her thoughts, she could not remember a time when Michael wasn’t in her life and that scared her.
In her life, she had been conditioned into assuming there was a camera or someone quick to backstab her just around the corner. Thus, she would always put on her best show and vowed to never let anyone profit off of her or her loved ones’ lowest points. However, this resulted in her not being able to bear the weight of having the necessary uncomfortable conversations she needed to have, deciding to not make a fuss once things seemed to be going well after the chaos had settled, and – in turn – unknowingly building resentment within herself.
Unfortunately, Marko had just been caught by the storm, not giving Alina the space to brush past what he had witnessed. How else would she explain why Michael was in her room and why she was yelling at him? While she felt it was a bit more private – a bit more safe – to share a piece of her dilemma with him, as they shared a mother tongue, it had only been surface level information. Alina would never be the type to share all the details of what she and Michael had shared. No matter how angry she felt with him at this moment.
The two rose to put their plates away – most of Alina’s food being discarded in the trash.
“Oh God, he’s coming over- good luck, girl” Marko scrambled to gather his belongings.
“Marko, wait- psst. You coward!” Alina whisper-screamed after him, a shock of anxiety rumbling in her stomach. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt Michael’s presence behind her. The air around her suddenly felt thick and suffocating – she wasn’t ready to confront him.
“I thought you said you were starving,” A shudder went through her spine from the rumble in his voice – no longer soft-spoken or delicate. She couldn’t bring herself to reply or even look at him. Her emotions were leaking out of the bottle that she shoved them into and was afraid for them to explode if she faced him. Even worse, what if she turned around and all her anger melted away in his arms, unresolved, waiting for the next time they fought to turn even uglier. She was afraid to lose him entirely over immature behavior. This wasn’t who they were at their core.
She felt his slender fingers wrap around her wrist, pulling her onto the outside eating area that had emptied. It was a skinny balcony that left no place for her to hide or run.
Alina kept her back toward him, staring out into the sea as she heard him close the terrace doors in an attempt of some privacy. Michael stalked her as if she were his prey, nearing closer in unnerving silence and light steps. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to engulf her into his arms and whisk her away until everything was better. His hands ghosted over her arms before resting on the railing in front her, caging her in.
“Are you satisfied?” Michael asked in a low voice, “Was it fun having me watch?”
Her heart quickened, her words jumbled and stuck at her throat that nothing could come out. They were stuck in a cycle of miscommunication and jealousy and she did not know how to get them out of it. Her body was closed off to him, arms crossed tightly in front of her chest.
Her continued silence agitated him, “Alina…” he breathed her in, dipping his head into the crevice of her neck, needing his senses to be full of her. Full of the signature cherry coconut scent that drove him crazy, “I know I messed up, just talk to me. Please”. His anger was slowly dissolving into desperation.
“I…I don’t know what to say to you right now, Michael”
“Anything-” His voice broke, pressing soft kisses onto her shoulder, “Look at me. Yell at me. Hit me”
His arm slithered around her waist, pulling her close. Maybe it was a good sign she wasn’t pulling away from him? He could only hope, “I was wrong, I’m sorry. It was supposed to be you in the video – it was always supposed to be you. Please, we just had a good night together. I don’t want to leave you angry with me”.
She felt a lump rise in her throat, trying to blink away any unwanted feelings, “I think what we need right now is some space-”
“Space? Alina, we’ve barely seen each other lately” He pulled his face up, in disbelief.
“We need to know how to be our own people. You need to learn how to trust me and I need to learn how to trust you” Alina spoke calmly, watching the waves crash onto the shore. How she wished they could pull her in with them.
“I do trust you, Ali. With all my life I do-”
“You don’t” She interrupted with a shake of her head, “None of this would’ve happened if you did”
“I thought I wouldn’t lose you. I thought you said you wanted all of me. The good and the bad,” He croaked “Don’t let us leave things off like this. Not angry like this”
“If we belong together…we’ll come back to each other”.
—
“Fans have theories on the themes of your latest album, some say the female vocals on your track In The Closet is popstar Alina. Seems like trouble in paradise based on recent photos. Are you two involved with each other?”
“I did not circle that question,” Michael let out a short laugh, refusing to answer.
The interview moment had gone viral along with every magazine and tabloid spreading photos of their encounter in Spain. Everyone wanted the latest gossip and grew relentless the more the singers avoided or denied their connection, hungry for the truth. Fans quickly drew connections in their lyrics, some rooting for them, others even going out of their way to send threats. Internet forums were flooded.
“I knew he was a player. You could just tell! Poor Alina, she’s just another kind girl that fell for it”
“Are you smoking crack? She’s totally the one that broke his heart. What a skank!”
For weeks, the only way of knowing what their other half had been up to was through forms of media or gossip, which obviously exaggerated comments or came up with rumors. Alina tried to stay away from it all, keeping the TV off at all times and focusing on her own activities. She hadn’t even listened to Michael’s full album. It hurt too much.
Paparazzi had swarmed the outside of her home, requiring extra security to travel with her and her driver.
“Ms. Belova! Ms. Belova! What is your relationship with Michael Jackson?”
“Are you talking about Michael Jackson in your latest album?”
“Ms. Belova! Smile for the camera!”
Quiet. She just wanted some damn peace and quiet.
Her work still had to continue as it was one of the busiest times of her career. While it was distracting, her resilience was slowly wearing down. Everything somehow brought her back to Michael. From the elevator music, she could hear the quiet melody of her great love
“Remember the time
On the phone, you and me
Remember the time
'Til dawn, two or three
What about us, girl?
Remember the time
Do you, do you, do you?
Remember the time (do you, do you?)
In the park, on the beach
Remember the time
You and me, in Spain”
It was as if he was trying to talk to her through his music or maybe she was just delusional. She entered her studio quickly, locking the door behind her. With a shaky breath, she took a seat down and started playing the instrumentals of an old project, the lyrics flowing from her pen almost magically this time around.
A tear slid down her cheek and then another until her cheeks were wet with streams of her tears and her shoulders caved in on themselves. What had she done?
—
Alina still hadn’t heard from Michael nor did she try to call him either. Her heart ached like crazy, every little thing reminding of him. Every time she wanted to share a story with him or give him a call, she would remember she couldn’t and start crying. Her nights felt cold and lonely, unable to hear his voice. She was the one hurt and angry, yet he too had gone radio silence.
She didn’t know that Michael also felt crushed and horrendously disappointed in himself. He had been so caught up in himself and fearful of getting hurt, it turned out he was actually the one to do all the hurting. He simply did not have the courage to call her just yet, feeling as though it was inevitable for him to lose someone he grew to love. He felt hollow. An empty vessel drifting through life. He didn’t know true loneliness until now. This was his punishment. This was his karma.
Days turned into weeks and weeks into months in a blink of an eye. Time passed by whether they wanted it to or not, especially between interviews and touring. It was easier to not think when one was so exhausted and always hopping onto the next event. But after it all, one could only sit in the deathly silence they had built for themselves and remember.
It was midnight, Alina stared at her ceiling, her chest hurting at the thought of him. The pain of missing him was greater than the anger she had had before. They should’ve just talked things through, laid out their boundaries when it came to these things. She should’ve just screamed out to the world tall and proud that Michael Jackson was hers. Was it over between them?
Her bedside telephone rang, snapping her out of her thoughts. She had picked it up without hesitation, not really caring who would be on the other end, “Hello?”
The other end was hesitant, which quickly made her stomach flip. She must’ve stopped breathing too when she heard the familiar voice on the other end.
“There'll be no darkness tonight
Lady, our love will shine
(Lighting the life)
Just put your trust in my heart
And meet me in paradise
(Now is the time)”
Michael’s voice was shaky and vulnerable. He had never performed this song for anyone, having been far too shy, which was why he decided it would be perfect. He was scared of her reaction, though it seemed like she was listening to him and not hanging up instead.
“And baby, through the years
Gonna love you more each day
So I promise you tonight
That you will always be the lady in my life
Lay back in my tenderness
Let's make this a night we won't forget
Girl, I need your sweet caress, oh
Reach out to a fantasy
Two hearts in the beat of ecstasy
Come to me, girl”
Alina’s heart was beating loud. The emotion that came out of his voice made it hard for her to breathe as if he were reaching deep into himself, his pain, his yearning. She didn’t even realize she was crying until he finished.
“Happy birthday, Ali-cat”
—
“Please tell me you’re still coming to the award show tonight” Janet was on the phone. Alina was twisting around the expensive golden bracelet Michael had sent to her house, a petite diamond studded ‘M’ charm dangling from it. His voice still rang in her ears. He had remembered, he had called her. Even if they were empty birthday wishes, it gave her hope.
“I hate seeing you two torture yourselves like this. You’re long overdue for a talk and you know it. Besides, I beg you to not let any man get in the way of living your life, sis. Not even my brother”
After a long silence, Alina finally agreed, “I’ll come, but don’t tell Michael, okay?”
“Atta girl. You have my word!”
Once the two girl friends hung up, she thought long and hard before picking up her yellow pages book and dialing the desired number on her phone, "Good afternoon, it's Alina Belova. Can I ask for a favor for tonight?...Yes, tonight".
Meanwhile, Michael almost decided to skip the award show tonight, but Janet had been so oddly persistent so he gave in. Besides, he was supposed to give a performance tonight. Would she be watching? He shuddered at the thought.
His ego was still hurt that she hadn’t reached out again after he called, especially after he had made himself so vulnerable, singing a song he never thought he’d sing out loud ever again. It was killing him not knowing what she was thinking. Although he was still angry at how much time was lost between them, he still clutched onto the hope of having her back in his arms, unyielding to whatever was thrown his way.
At the show, he sat next to Brooke Shields, making small conversation just to pass the time. He glanced discreetly past her multiple times, unable to keep his gaze away from her. He hadn’t seen her in person in so long it felt like his mind was playing tricks on him. Alina sat down the aisle, too far away yet too near at the same time. If he got closer, would she disappear?
She kept her face turned to the side on purpose, not wanting to be caught looking at him, especially with how he just had to be seated with another gorgeous model. It felt like someone was rubbing salt on her wound. Had he been with anyone else while they were apart?
“Hey, you alright?” The voice next to her startled her, looking over to the blonde long-haired rockstar at her side. She had been avoiding that direction this whole time she didn’t even realize who her neighbor was.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you” He smiled warmly, “lovers quarrel?”
Alina raised an eyebrow at him, “I don’t know what you mean” she feigned innocence
“I bet he’s looking at us talking right now”
Alina was taken aback, glancing over to find Michael’s obvious and intense gaze on them. Her breath hitched at the electric connection, quickly pulling her gaze away.
“How’d you know?”
“I thought it was pretty obvious” he put simply, “Guys are really simple, he clearly wants you. Don’t overthink it”
Alina was now turning more toward him, “Wait, why are you helping me?”
Kurt Cobain shrugged, “Eh, it can get boring at these things”.
While Michael could not rid himself entirely of his jealousy, he had vowed during this period to never take his anger out on Alina ever again. As he watched her talk with the grunge heartthrob, he had made an executive decision. He had waited patiently for Alina, reflected, and given her space, but now it was time to fight for her. Now it was time to help guide her back home.
The time had come for his performance. Adrenaline buzzed through his veins. The stage lights were bright, but Michael was used to them. He was dressed in a sleek suit, his walk heavy as he smoothly entered the stage. His mere presence was enough to bring the crowd at the edge of their seats to watch the Michael Jackson perform. He had attained such a high level of fame, he was the celebrity to celebrities. Untouchable. It was time he remembered exactly who he was.
His movements were fluid and powerful, transforming into the best version of himself
“The way she came into the place I knew right then and there
There was something different about this girl
The way she moved
Her hair, her face, her lines
Divinity in motion
As she stalked the room
I could feel the aura of her presence
Every head turned feeling passion and lust
The girl was persuasive
The girl I could not trust
The girl was bad
The girl was dangerous”
The music flowed through him, making the stage his turf. He lifted his hat to reveal his face, eyes immediately finding her. He would always find her.
“She's so dangerous”
He winked in her direction in the middle of his performance, a cocky smile spreading onto his face before pulling away to embrace the whole audience.
“The girl is so dangerous
Take away my money
Throw away my time!”
Alina clenched her jaw, watching him with a pounding heart as her fingers tightened around her clutch. It was as if everyone else in the room had disappeared and he was talking directly to her. She was taken aback by the sudden camera in her face trying to catch her reaction, mustering her best bashful smile.
By the time his performance ended, she wanted to scream. This whole night felt like a humiliation ritual.
A/N: next chapter will likely be the last one! but no worries, i am thinking of continuing writing. would you guys be interested in another series? oneshots? both? lmk!!
songs mentioned this chapter are Michael's Remember the Time, Lady in My Life, and Dangerous
Drunk confession reader to mike???? But like lowk mike was busy when reader came over and she confessed to his brothers about it???? And he walks in while shes talking
𝐌𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐬— 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧
Pairing: Off The Wall era!Michael x best friend!reader
Synopsis: Reader goes to visit Michael after brunch. Michael is busy so his brothers have to listen to her rant. Little does she know Michael heard her too.
Warnings: Alcohol and pure fluff.
Author’s note: We need more Off The Wall era Michael content so I hope you don’t mind I assigned a specific era to this. If y’all want to request a specific era just lmk in your request! 🤍
You and your friends liked to go out for brunch every once in a while—though "every once in a while" really just meant whenever everyone’s schedules aligned. Today was the day.
After almost two weeks of back and forth planning, your group of friends finally found a day and time that worked for everyone to meet for brunch and catch up.
Brunch started out as usual, with everyone catching up over coffee and food. Then of the girls suggested ordering mimosas, and you were all on board with the idea. However, after the fourth mimosa, you were regretting your decision.
Thankfully you didn’t drive.
After a few hours, one of your friends dropped you off at the Jackson house; and by the time you arrived, the brunch buzz was settling into that confident feeling that made everything seem like a fantastic idea. Which is exactly the reason why you showed up unannounced in the first place.
You knew Michael wouldn’t care though. You were best friends and you spent most weekends together anyway, but you had never showed up unannounced while you were drunk.
Usually he’d answer the door right away, so when you knocked and got no answer, confusion was written all over your face.
Instead, Tito opened the door.
"Y/N! We didn’t know you were coming,” He said as he gave you a side hug. “Honestly, me neither,” you let out a soft laugh. “Where’s Michael?” you asked, stepping inside. “Hiding im the studio," Tito informed you after letting you inside.
"Hiding?" you raised one of your brows. "Working," Marlon corrected. "Same thing."
You sighed dramatically as you laid —more like dropped— on the couch. "And to think I came all this way just to see him."
"His “do not bother me” sign is up," Marlon sat next to you. "You mean, do not disturb sign?” You tried not to laugh. "Same thing.”
You weren't really upset. Michael had been working nonstop on his music lately, and you were proud of him. But was that going to stop you from complaining just for the sake of it? Absolutely not.
"Fine," you announced. "Then you two get to listen to me rant."
"Great, another Michael rant…" Marlon immediately groaned. “Somebody please call Jermaine.”
"Excuse me? How many Michael rants have there been?" You looked at him in an offended manner.
"Enough."
"You know I’m right, though."
Tito sat down in the chair in front of them. A minute later, Jermaine walking into the room.
“God bless!” Marlon celebrated. “Jermaine, sit yo’ ass down. This woman is about to rant AGAIN and if I have to listen to it, so do you.”
“Yeah yeah,” he sat down on the chair next to Tito’s.
"Go on." Tito waved his hand, inviting you to proceed; and that ladies and gentleman, was all you needed.
"I don't understand how somebody can be so irritating."
"Michael?"
"Yes."
The three brothers exchanged a look of confusion. Michael could be irritating, to them, but why to her?
"What'd he do?" Jermaine asked. "He exists." You scoffed, Tito laughed. "That's all?"
"That's enough."
"Do you want to know what he did yesterday?" You leaned back against the couch. "What’s that?” Marlon asked as he tried to keep a straight face. "I mentioned I was cold,” you paused, “and he immediately gave me his jacket!”
"Girl, you know I usually have your back but… is that the complaint?” Tito asked.
"Yes."
"You wanted him to let you freeze?"
"No, but I kept the jacket and now my room smells like him." You folded your arms over your chest.
The room went silent for a second. Then Marlon started laughing so hard he nearly slid off the couch. You ignored him, because what was he doing all that for?
"Worst part of it? He got shy about it. All cute and shy like he always gets,” you covered your face.
“Yep, that’s Michael,” Jermaine laughed.
Despite being Michael Jackson, Michael has always been a timid guy. If someone complimented him, he'd look down and smile at the floor. If someone caught him staring, he'd look away as fast as he could and blush. But when it came to you? His shyness multiplied by ten. Whenever you hugged him unexpectedly, his ears turned pink. It was adorable to say the least, but extremely inconvenient due to having the biggest crush on your best friend.
"He's just sweet," Tito said.
"That's the problem."
The brothers laughed again.
"No, seriously," you continued. "Every time I think I've gotten over this stupid crush, he does something."
"What kind of something?"
"Remembering tiny details, stuff I didn’t remember myself, bringing me my favorite snacks… he even helped me with my stupid little garden the other day" you groaned. “He also does this thing in which he looks at me like I’m the most important person in the room, and he always makes sure I don’t feel left out.”
Marlon suddenly sat up straighter.
"Oh, now that’s bad,” he pointed.
"Thank you! Finally, someone understands the suffering I’ve been enduring for the past months.”
"He looks at you like that all the time, though,” Tito laughed and you froze.
"What?"
Marlon wished he could take it back. Not because of Michael, but because he didn’t want to hear you rant anymore.
"Nothing."
"No. What do you mean all the time?"
"Forget I said anything.”
“No.”
“Fine. Of course he does, he likes you!”
“Michael likes me?” You said to yourself.
The three of them nodded at the same time.
"He's Michael." You frowned. “So?” Tito asked. "And I'm me." You pointed at yourself. "That’s a good thing, trust me on that,” Jermaine spoke this time.
"But… he could literally have anybody. He has girls throwing themselves at him everywhere he goes, literally speaking!”
Tito tried to hide a smile.
"Anybody?"
"Anybody."
"Maybe. But what if he only wants you?" He asked, “is it really that hard to believe?”
“A little?” You mumbled.
"Maybe he's nervous." A voice spoke from the hallway. Not any voice, Michael’s.
Your body froze. Part of it from the realization that he'd been listening for who knew how long—the other part being the fact that he hadn't denied it.
You turned around slowly, and there he was.
Michael stood by the doorway, one hand buried in his pocket, as he watched you with an unsettling calm that made your heart race.
The second he realized everyone was looking at him, his gaze immediately dropped to the floor.
"Oh my God," you whispered.
Michael rubbed the back of his neck.
"Hi."
The brothers lost control. Tito was laughing. Marlon was laughing. Jermaine tried not to, surprisingly, but ended up laughing as well. Thank god Randy was nowhere to be found. Actually, where the hell was Randy?
You wanted to disappear.
"How long have you been standing there?" you asked.
Michael finally looked up, his brown eyes finding yours.
"A while.” He turned even more pink. "A while?" He nodded. “How… how much did you hear?” Your hearth threatened to jump out of your chest.
His little nervous smile grew.
"Most of it.”
“I want to die,” you looked at Marlon.
“I think moving countries is fine,” he joked.
“Marlon, leave her alone.” Michael said, making you blush. Wait, why were you blushing?
When your eyes found Michael’s again, he was smiling at you. Not smug. Not teasing. Actually smiling. Which somehow made everything worse.
"Was any of that true?" he asked quietly.
"What part?"
"The crush part."
The words came out softer than he expected, almost hesitant. As if he was waiting for an answer he didn’t want to hear. All the insecurities he'd spent years keeping buried were slowly creeping into the back of his mind.
The brothers immediately stood up and left without saying a word.
Michael sat down beside you, barely holding eye contact as his slim fingers fidgeted together in his lap.
You had never seen your him look this nervous before.
"Michael?"
"Yeah?”
"Why are you nervous?" you asked as your hands softly grabbed his face, making him look at you. This made him even more nervous.
"Because," he took a deep breathe, "I've liked you for a long time."
Your were in shock.
Michael looked down again.
"I just never knew if you felt the same."
The confession came out so quietly you almost missed it. Sweet, awkward, and honest. That made it mean even more, because that’s who Michael was. A sweet soul.
A smile spread across your face.
"Michael."
He looked up.
"Yeah?"
"I've literally spent the last twenty minutes ranting to your brothers about how much I like you."
"Yeah."
"I think that's a pretty good hint."
For the first time since he had walked into the room, he finally felt at ease. The doubts that had been gnawing in the back of his mind had disappeared, as well as the tension in his shoulders. Michael was relieved to hear you say that out loud again.
"Good," he said softly.
"Good?"
"Yeah," He looked down for a moment, but this time he wasn’t hiding, this time he grabbed your hand before meeting your eyes again. “I was hoping you'd say that." He pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles.
You blushed.
“Let me take you out on a proper date, yeah?” He squeezed your hand softly. “Of course, Mike,” you leaned over and kissed his cheek softly, ears turning pink again.
contents: fluff, mutual pining, best friends, soft!michael, yearning (kinda), to be loved is to be seen
summary: michael can’t stop taking pictures of you. no matter where you go, michael’s camera follows. you never understand why he insists on taking one more picture. maybe one day, he’ll finally tell you.
“smile!” michael would say before he took yet another photo of you. the flash went off, quick and bright, like it always did. it was sharp enough to make you blink and laugh at the same time. “i don’t get it,” you laughed, squinting at him while he lowered the camera. “why do you always take photos of me?”
michael would never explain why. instead he looked down at the camera as if it needed adjusting, even though it didn’t. he moved his thumb over the edge of the camera out of habit, like he was grounding himself in something he understood more than the question he just asked.
“michael?” you prompted, softer this time, as if you weren’t trying to corner him. like you were just curious. he let out a small breath through his nose, almost a laugh. then he shrugged. “it’s just a good shot,” he said. “a good shot?” you repeated, skeptical. “it’s just me.”
that made him pause for a moment, longer than it should have. “yeah,” his voice quieter this time. “i know.” somehow that made things worse. you laughed, rolling your eyes like you didn’t care, turning slightly away from him as the sun hit your shoulder in a warm way. behind you, you heard the soft click of him pressing the shutter button on the camera again.
“michael-“ “hold still,” he interrupted, but his tone was firm. so you did. the camera clicked again.
──── ۶ৎ ────
another time, michael had taken a picture of you when you were getting ready to go out with your girlfriends. he just happened to be over. that was what you told yourself, anyway. you stood in the mirror, pulling at your earrings. half listening to the music drifting from somewhere down the hall.
that was when you noticed him in the reflection. he was leaning against the doorway, camera already in his hands like it belonged there. “michael,” you sighed, catching his eyes in the mirror. “what are you doin’?” he didn’t answer right away. instead, he lifted the camera instinctively.
“don’t,” you warned automatically, though there was no real heat behind it. the shutter clicked anyway. you turned to face him fully this time. “i’m leaving in like five minutes.” he frowned. “i know,” and something about the way he said it made you slow down. he wasn’t smiling this time. he lowered the camera a little, but didn’t put it down. “you’re going out again.”
you blinked. “yeah? with the girls. i told you.” michael nodded, a little too quickly. “right.” he said it like it was obvious. like he wasn’t supposed to feel anything about it at all. but his grip on the camera tightened anyway. you turned back towards the mirror, smoothing out your top, trying not to overthink it. “you’re acting weird,” you said lightly, like it was nothing.
“i’m not,” he answered but it came out faster than usual. that made you pause, glancing at him through the reflection. “michael…” he exhaled, “it’s just…” he started, then stopped, jaw tightening slightly as he looked away for a second. you waited. he shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “you’ve been going out a lot lately.” you turned to face him.
“it’s summer, that’s the whole point.” he looked at you, nodding. “i know.” then, almost like he didn’t mean to say it, he added, “you look like you’re having more fun out there.” that made you turn a little more fully toward him. “what’s that supposed to mean?” he shook his head immediately. “nothing. forget it.”
but he didn’t move, and neither did you. you softened a little, confused now. “michael…” his fingers adjusted on the camera again, like he needed something to do with his hands. “it’s fine,” he said, too quickly again. then, after a second, he spoke quieter. “just don’t disappear on me, okay?” he said it like a joke. like it was casual.
but it didn’t really sound like one. you stared at him for a second, then let out a small laugh to break the tension. “i’m literally going for like two hours, mikey.” “i’m gonna miss you.” he said, nodding, but his eyes flicked away for a second like that wasn’t really the point.
then, like he was forcing himself back into normal, he lifted the camera again. “hold still. one more picture.” he said. he smiled this time as he clicked the shutter. only a little. you were still trying to touch up your top when the horn sounded outside. “oh! gotta go, that’s them.” michael lowered the camera slightly. “i’ll be quick,” you said, grabbing your bag from your bed.
he nodded. you brushed past him toward the hallway, and he instinctively stepped aside, camera still hanging from his hand like he’d forgotten what to do with it. at the front door, you glanced back at him. “don’t take fifty more pictures while i’m gone,” you warned, pointing at him. that made him huff a quiet laugh. “no promises.” you rolled your eyes, smiling anyway, and pulled the door open.
then you were gone. the door clicked shut behind you. and almost immediately, the house felt different. not empty exactly. just quieter in a way that made everything he was trying not to think about suddenly louder. michael stood there for a moment, still holding the camera. then he let out a breath and walked back down the hall.
──── ۶ৎ ────
later that night, michael was back at hayvenhurst. the house had long since quieted down by the time he shut himself in his room. he set his camera on his bed, emptied the day’s photographs beside it, and smiled to himself. he always did this part slowly. not because he had to, but because he didn’t want it to end too fast. one by one, he picked them up.
you laughing mid-turn. you squinting at the flash. you in front of the mirror, distracted, and not realizing he was still looking at you through the lens even when you weren’t posing. he smiled a little at that one. “you never stay still,” he murmured to himself, like he was teasing you even though you weren’t there to hear it. but his tone wasn’t frustrated. it was fond. like it was something he liked about you.
he leaned back against his headboard, letting the photos rest in his lap for a second. “you always think it’s just pictures,” he said quietly, like he was continuing a conversation you’d started hours ago. he sighed, picking one up again, carefully, like always. “maybe one day…” he exhaled, almost a laugh, soft and uncertain. “i’ll find the time to tell you.”
his eyes stayed on the photo when he said it. “that it was never just about the pictures.” then he set it down gently with the rest, like it mattered too much to crease. and somewhere out there, he knew you were laughing with your friends, completely unaware that you had already become his favorite part of every roll of film. not something he was trying to hold onto.
just something he didn’t know how to stop noticing.
the applause hit before you even processed the words.
"and the american music award for favorite r&b single is—" whitney houston started with a tear of an envelope.
“oh, i know they’re gonna be so happy,” she grinned before she turned back to the audience.
"michael jackson and y/n!"
the entire room erupted. for a second, you genuinely thought you'd heard wrong. your mouth fell open.
beside you, michael blinked before he turned toward you.
"we won."
you stared.
"we won?"
"we won," he answered. you were in such disbelief, you grabbed his arm so hard he laughed.
the cameras were pointed directly at your table.
you felt michael's hand find yours beneath the table.
"sweetheart," he said quietly causing your eyes to snap to his. “we gotta go."
he stood first, still holding your hand as you followed him toward the stage. flashbulbs exploded around you while the audience was on their feet.
the song that had brought you here — a duet neither of you had expected to become the biggest record of the year — played through the speakers.
the song wrapped around the room, lyrics suddenly sounding far more dangerous than they had just six months ago. singing about being in love with michael had stopped feeling like acting and started feeling a little too real.
you climbed the stairs, michael now following behind you.
when you reached the stage, you hugged whitney.
"you look beautiful," she complimented while michael took the award from her. you were wearing a red off-the-shoulder gown with a corset bodice. it was adorned by shimmering embellishments throughout with sheer fitted sleeves. your skirt flowed onto the floor, just a light train with black heels that had subtle embellishments. your hair was long with a side part that held curls. "thank you," you replied when you pulled away. he then hugged her too.
when you both finally reached the microphone together, you nodded, letting him start first while the audience died down.
he immediately forgot every single thing he had planned to say. he had just won an award with the most beautiful woman beside him.
he then felt you lightly touch the middle of his back. to anyone else, it was the smallest gesture but instantly his shoulders relaxed. you smile.
"wow,” he began as the audience laughed.
"okay, firstly, i definitely had a speech prepared, and now i can't remember any of it." more laughter.
"thank you. thank you to everyone who listened to our song. thank you to the fans who supported it. without them pushing for this collab, it probably never would've happened,” he laughed, turning to you.
your eyes glanced over the audience, “we have to thank our producers quincy and teddy for believing in this song from the very beginning. there were so many long nights, so many moments where we were changing lyrics, rerecording parts, trying to get everything exactly right.”
beside you, michael smiled. one of the cameras zoomed in on the big screen. he didn't seem to notice, or maybe he did. either way, his attention never left you.
michael spoke again, turning back to the audience.
“we’d also like to thank rod temperton with help writing this song. um.. bruce swedien as well. there are so many people behind the scenes who help make something like this possible. and to our families... thank you for always believing in us, encouraging us, and standing beside us through everything. lastly, as i said, the fans.”
every few moments, michael looked at you as he spoke, and each time, his expression soft. almost like he couldn't believe you were real.
people began noticing.
a few celebrities in the front rows exchanged glances.
teddy nudged quincy sitting beside him.
“man, look at them. i knew i wasn't tripping.”
"i think when we recorded it, i thought it would just be another song,” michael still spoke as you laughed softly. "but it became something really special,” he finished.
you turned, finally looking at michael. the crowd immediately reacted. just from the way he was already looking at you.
"and thank you,” michael's eyes softened further. if that was even possible.
"for singing it with me."
a collective "awww" echoed through the audience.
you laughed, embarrassed. but michael didn't. he didn't look away not once. not even a glance toward the crowd.
“thank you, everyone,” you turned back towards the audience whilst they cheered before whitney led you backstage, doing a commerical break.
by the time the two of you left the stage — the internet was already having a field day.
· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·
you didn't realize any of it until nearly midnight.
your heels were abandoned somewhere near the hotel suite door, your makeup was half gone, and you were currently sitting cross-legged on the bed wearing one of michael's oversized jackets from when it was cold out. he was just a suite over, you could give it to him at any time.
the award sat on the dresser, still sparkling under the room's soft lighting. your television played quietly in the background. some entertainment recap of the ceremony. you weren't really paying attention.
until,
"fans online are obsessed with one particular moment from tonight's show,” you looked up.
the tv switched to footage from your acceptance speech.
your face appeared onscreen, then michael's. you frowned before the segment replayed.
now, you were watching him. your heart stuttered while the footage continued.
there you were talking, smiling, laughing nervously ─ and there he was. watching you. like he was listening to every word.
the host laughed.
"i don't know, folks. that's not exactly how i look at my coworkers," the audience roared. the screen then filled with comments.
vinylheart84:
that man is IN LOVE.
frontrowfeels:
he's looking at her like she's the award.
soultrainsoul:
somebody tell her to turn around.
jackson5forever:
i'm here for it!!
· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·
your phone buzzed.
michael.
you stared at the screen before opening it.
you still awake?
don't watch tv tonight.
i beg.
a laugh escaped you before your fingers hovered over the keyboard before finally typing.
summary: Y/N has spent months writing about New York’s favorite masked hero. The only thing she doesn’t know is that every time Spider-Man disappears, her boyfriend is already on his way to her.
content: spider-man!michael jackson x reader. journalist!reader. au. fluff. pictured otw/thriller mj. fluff. proofread but there might be some mistakes.
NYC, 1981
“Look! Look! It’s Spider-Man!” A little boy’s voice echoed across the sidewalk, rapidly drawing the attention of everyone nearby. Conversations died mid-sentence. A businessman stopped checking his watch. A woman carrying grocery bags looked up so quickly she nearly dropped them.
Y/N had been on her way home, struggling with all the papers and files she had been carrying, when she stopped abruptly and followed the kid’s pointing finger toward the skyline.
‘There he is.’ She thought to herself.
A flash of blue and white swinging effortlessly between Manhattan’s buildings, disappearing behind one skyscraper only to reappear from another only a heartbeat later. Graceful and weightless. So smoothly it was almost criminal. Like New York City itself had decided gravity was optional for exactly one person.
A small grin appeared on Y/N’s face as her eyes caught the afternoon sun reflecting off the rhinestones scattered across the single glove Spider-Man wore over his right hand. Nobody knew why only one of his hands sparkled while the other remained hidden beneath the blue fabric of his suit. Rumors ranged from it being good luck to some elaborate superhero technology, but no explanation ever stuck.
It had simply become part of him, you know? The sparkly glove. Whenever the sunlight caught it just right, it flashed across the Manhattan skyline like a shooting star, announcing his arrival before anyone even laid eyes on him.
The crowd collectively gasped and pointed. Some waved. A few children jumped excitedly, convinced he could somehow see them from thirty stories above.
Nobody screamed hysterically anymore, not these days, no.
Spider-Man had become less of a mystery and more of a friendly neighborhood protector. Of course, nobody knew who he was. And nobody seemed particularly interested in ruining the mystery of his identity, There was an unspoken understanding throughout the city that some secrets were meant to stay secrets. And as long as he kept catching muggers before breakfast and dangling purse snatchers from traffic lights, new yorkers were perfectly happy minding their own business.
High above them, Spider-Man released one web and caught another.
“AOW!” His voice bounced between the buildings.
The little boy burst into laughter. “Oh, he so does that on purpose!” he exclaimed, delighted, pulling at his mother’s elbow for excitement. “Awo!” He mimed in his tiny voice.
Y/N couldn’t help smiling. “He’s such a dork,” she murmured to herself, shaking her head fondly at the familiar figure.
Spider-Man disappeared around another building, only the occasional glimpse of blue between the steel and glass letting the city know he was still somewhere overhead.
She kept watching until he vanished completely into the skyline. A sigh escaped her.
It had become a small routine at this point: whenever she happened to catch a glimpse of him, her day somehow got a little better.
Y/N wasn’t one of those people who collected newspaper clippings or claimed they’d spotted him every other Tuesday. She simply liked the comfort of knowing that somewhere above the city, someone was looking out for it. It made New York feel… safer, in a way.
“One of these days,” she muttered to herself again, adjusting the strap of her tote bag, “Michael will introduce us.”
Her boyfriend, Michael, somehow, possessed the worst timing of any human ever. Which was particularly ironic considering he worked as a photographer for the Daily Bugle.
You see, the two worked for the newspaper, Michael in photography and Y/N writing. Well, now she was starting to call herself 'spider-writer', since their boss and chief editor, J. Jonah Jameson had been making her write solely for one topic and one topic only: your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.
Y/N was starting to get bored, to be honest. People always circled back to the same tedious questions — “WHO IS SPIDER-MAN?” or“HOW DID HE GET HIS POWERS?”. But Y/N had outgrown those wonders—now she had interests in things like why did New York trust him? What was his moral compass? Would he be there whenever needed? Why on earth did he war that bedazzled glove?
At least Jonah allowed her to get into those matters.
Michael, on the other hand, had photographed Spider-Man more than one time. He had sold front-page pictures of him and even claimed the guy was ‘actually really nice’. Meanwhile, Y/N had yet to see Spider-Man do anything more exciting than swing between buildings yelling nonsensical little noises.
He always seemed to catch the interesting parts. She seemed to always miss those spicy bits. It was beginning to feel personal, truly.
What Y/N didn’t know, though—what she couldn’t possibly know— was that she had, in fact, seen Spider-Man every single day face to face. Usually over breakfast, wearing oversized sweaters and apologizing for being more than five minutes late.
🕸️ྀི
“Excuse me!” His voice rang through the air. “Oh, careful there, miss!” He swung from a traffic light to another. “Hee-hee!” He yelled.
Michael swung through New York as fast as he could, trying to make it to his girlfriend’s apartment before movie night officially became ‘Michael’s late again’ night.
“Oh, shoot!” He cursed as his eye caught the time in a digital watch nearby that hung off a nearby storefront. He looked around for a few seconds and spotted a familiar face shaking their head negatively at him.
Bill Bray, who Michael considered a friend and was lucky enough to have as father figure, stood with his arms crossed over his chest, a bouquet in one hand and an unmistakable scowl of disapproval on his face, staring at Spider-Man as though he were one of the bad guys.
Michael sighed before dropping directly in front of Bill. The man stood in the street in front of a little flower cart wearing a beige hat, an elderly lady standing behind said cart looking a little taken aback. Her eyes wandered from Bill to Spider-Man a few times before she mimed Bill’s disapproving expression in a very comical way. Spider-Man was truly becoming a regular client nowadays.
“I know, I know!” Michael complained, voice sounding tired, as he tried to reach for the bouquet. Bill retracted his arm, keeping the flowers out of Michael’s reach. Instead, he reached up and fixed Michael’s blue mask, smoothing it out where it’d shifted. Then he brushed a bit of dust from one shoulder. “Thanks.” Michael said softly.
And then Bill pointed a sharp finger towards him. “You gotta watch out, kiddo,” He licked his lips. “One day that girl will get tired of these poor excuses of yours!”
Michael sighed again and ran his gloved hand through his face covered by the Spider-Man mask. “She believes me.” He argued.
“No, no,” Bill cut him off mid sentence. “She loves you! And it’s about damn time you fill her in, and you know it!”
“Yeah, I know, I know.”
The lady’s eyes darted between Michael and Bill with obvious interest. Then they drifted down to the bouquet. Every week Spider-Man would show up and grab a bouquet. Sometimes it was lilies, sometimes it was sunflowers. This week was sunflowers.
“Does Spider-Man have a special someone?” Curiosity got the best of her and she couldn’t resist in asking.
Spider-Man’s body language changes completely. He scratched the back of his neck and looked away, as if someone could see the blush that crept its way into his cheeks.
Bill rolled his eyes.
“I, uh—Maybe.” Michael said in a shy tone, a little nervous laugh escaping through his lips.
“Ya know, ‘maybes’ buys flowers every thursday.” The lady mocked, an amused smile crossing her sweet wrinkled face.
“She’s uh,…” He bit his bottom lip underneath the mask. “Ehm, she’s a… a pretty young thing.” You could actually hear his smile.
The florist’s own smile widened. Even Bill fought back a grin.
“Oh?”
“Mhm.”
“And does Pretty Young Thing know she’s dating Spider-Man?”
Michael let out a breathy laugh and shook his head.
“No, she doesn’t and it’ll bite him in the butt!” Bill answered before Michael had the chance.
“Oh, you must tell her, then!” The lady sided with Bill and Michael (besides recognizing signs of some irritation at their persistence) knew they were right.
But the thought of it alone made his stomach tighten. Could you imagine if one of enemies found out she mattered to him? That could go wrong really quickly. All it took was one enemy. One photograph. One wrong person putting two and two together. Suddenly Y/N wouldn’t just be his girlfriend—she’d be a target.
And sweet, caring, love-of-his-life, Y/N deserved something as close to normal as he could possibly offer her. And Michael felt selfish enough to keep her as his girlfriend, even if that meant hiding the truth for as long as he could. She was everything to him. Everything.
He let out another sigh before checking Bill’s wristwatch. “Can I go now?” He asked, softly. Tiredly.
Bill clicked his tongue and let out a huff. He extended the bouquet to Michael and let him grab it.
“Sunflowers are her favorite.” Michael said with a tiny smile taking over his masked lips. “Thanks, Bill.”
“No problem, kiddo.”
“Thank you, ma'am.” He tapped two fingers against his forehead before pointing them toward her with a boyish smile underneath the blue mask. “See ya!”, then launched himself back into the Manhattan skyline.
The florist watched him disappear, then turned to Bill. “He’s hopelessly in it, isn’t he?”
Bill didn’t bother looking up. “Yup.”
“Sweet boy, though.”
“Too sweet for his own good.”
🕸️ྀི
As Michael swung through the familiar streets and avenues on the way to Y/N’s apartment, something caught his attention, like it usually would: an orange cat was stranded on the fire escape of a six-story apartment building, meowing pitifully while an elderly man leaned out of his window a floor below.
"Oh, Mr Buttons…” He pleaded helplessly, one hand over his chest. "Please, please don't jump."
Michael sighed. "Really?" He looked toward the skyline. Then at the cat. Then toward the skyline again. Then at his wrist, which had no watch. Well, was already late. Might as well, right?
"AOW!” he yelled dramatically to absolutely no one before changing courses. A web caught the side of the building and, seconds later, Spider-Man landed smoothly on the fire escape.
"Oh, thank goodness!" The elderly man sighed with relief at the sight of him. Michael waved politely at the man.
He placed the bouquet under one of his arms, trying and hoping too keep it at least, somewhat, secure.
The cat blinked up at him with its enormous amber eyes.
"...Hi."
It let out one tiny, pitiful meow in response.
Michael smiled beneath the mask. “M’kay, here we go..." He reached out carefully, scooping the orange fluff into his arms.
The transformation was immediate. Claws, teeth and hisses—all at once, everywhere.
"HISSSSS!"
"Oh my god!”
The kitten twisted like it was possessed, every paw going in a different direction. Michael kept trashing around along with the feline, trying to get ahold of it.
Sharp, tiny claws latched onto his forearm. Then his shoulder. Then— "Dang it!" One particularly offended swipe caught him clean across the cheek, getting a small rip through his mask.
At that Michael nearly lost his footing on the fire escape. "Hey, hey!" he pleaded, desperately trying not to drop the tiny menace. "I'm literally rescuing you! C’mon, don’t make this difficult!” The cat responded by attempting to climb onto his head. "No, no, no—we don't need to be up there!"
It hissed again.
“Now you're just being dramatic."
Another hiss.
Michael sighed, gulped and reached one delicate hand out, trying to pet the cat. “I know you're scared." The kitten bit his gloved index finger.
“Ouch!” He jerked his hand away. “Okay, maybe you're just mean."
The cat somehow managed to hook all four paws into his suit at once, dangling from his chest like an angry orange ornament.
Michael sighed.
“Out of all the dangers in the city, this is what will take me…” Michael complained under his breath, slowly starting to turn towards the old man’s window.
He finally managed to peel the cat off his suit one tiny paw at a time, cradling it firmly enough that it couldn't launch into another attack.
The cat glared up at him. Michael glared right back through the white lenses of his mask.
"We are never doing this again." He warned, pointing a sharp finger at the cat.
It sneezed in his face.
Michael closed his eyes. “Alrighty, then.”
A moment later, he lowered the little orange menace safely into its owner's waiting arms. The transformation was miraculous--It immediately began purring.
Michael stared in complete disbelief. "Oh, so now you behave?"
The old man laughed. "Mr Buttons can be... spirited."
"Spirited?" Michael touched the fresh scratch on his cheek, grimacing at the stingy feeling of touching it. “Sir, respectfully, your cat just tried to kill Spider-Man."
The cat blinked innocently.
“Oh, don’t you gimme that look!”
🕸️ྀི
A few moments later he reached the familiar alley he always hid his suit and ‘transformed’ into simply Michael Jackson, the photographer and boyfriend, before going to Y/N’s place.
Michael caught his reflection in the rain puddle at his feet and stared. The suit looked exactly as it always had: royal blue from neck to boots, broken only by crisp white panels sweeping across his shoulders, forearms and sides like the sharp lines of an expensive suit tailored for someone who spent more time in the air than on the ground. A black spider stretched across his chest, its long eight legs blending with the white. The mask's white lenses reflected the city lights back at him, giving away nothing of the tired eyes behind them. His right hand glittered--tons of tiny rhinestones caught even the weakest light, turning the glove into a shooting star whenever he swung between buildings. Most New Yorkers assumed it was part of the costume, some flashy signature, something Spider-Man wore simply because he was Spider-Man.
But in reality, the glove served a purpose: it was stitched with fine grip pads along the fingertips and palm, giving him greater precision whenever he aimed a web or caught the edge of a building at impossible speeds. The rhinestones weren't just decoration: their texture gave his fingers subtle tactile reference points, allowing him to adjust the angle of his wrist without ever taking his eyes off where he was going. The sparkle had simply been Michael's idea.
'If I have to wear it every day,' he'd once reasoned while tailoring the whole suit, 'might as well be pretty.'
He wiggled out of the blue suit before putting it away in a handbag he kept hidden behind a metal trashcan, the rhinestone glove being the last thing he placed inside the bag. He took a deep breath and zipped it shut, placing it hidden and shooting a web at it to keep it secure. You never know, right?
His curls were messy and a few stubborn locks stuck to his sweaty forehaed. Cheeks flushed bright red and the scratch on his left one (curtesy of Mr Buttons) stood out in bloody maroon. He hadn’t notice it, since it had stopped stinging.
Michael jogged with the bouquet in his hand to the familiar building where his girl resided. He finally made his way up to her floor, two steps at a time.
A little disappointed huff left him as he caught sight of the (now ruined) flowers as soon as he reached her door. Couldn’t even get her proper flowers, he thought. Shaking his head, he finally knocked.
Y/N opened the door about two seconds later, a wondering gaze on her eyes. She was still in her work clothes, dark pants, white shirt and black vest on top. Michael gulped, looking away for a split second. He loved her in those outfits. But then again, he loved her in anything (specially nothing).
She lifted a brow and tilted her head, leaning against the doorway and crossing her arms over her chest. An amused expression crossed her face. “Well, did they fight back, at least?” She asked while nodding towards the wrecked flowers.
Michael looked down at the bouquet and smiled shyly. “Bravely.”
Y/N shook her head and reached out for it. She lifted the bouquet up to her nose and took a deep breath, sighing and closing her eyes at the pleasant fragrance. Then, she turned her eyes to Michael’s face, frowning and reaching out delicately for his cheek. She softly crossed her thumb across the bloody scratch. Concern started to kick in.
“Did you get hurt? What happened? Did you get into a fight? Do you need me to-”
“Baby, baby-” Michael cut her off and took her wrists delicately into his hands. A warm smile appeared on his lips. “I’m okay. Just a scratch, isn't it?” He shook his head, quicly trying to come up wiht a good excuse. “I just, uhm, the camera, you know?”
Y/N narrowed her eyes at his response. “Yeah, right,” She pulled him inside by the arm. “the camera.”
Michael closed the door behind him and pulled Y/N back into him by the wrist, kissing her temple before she made her way to her kitchen, searching for a vase for the flowers. She stopped on her tracks briefly, though, turning around and pecking his lips not once, not twice, but three times. Michael kissed her back, leaning in for more, but was met with nothing but disappointment as she made her way to flower-care.
He looked down in a bummer, but trailed after anyway. That was until something caught his eye. A few papers laid messily around the coffee table in front of her couch, notes scattered and some cut-out newspaper pieces with Spider-Man’s name and pictures. His heart skipped a beat.
Among the scattered newspaper clippings and notes, one hastily written headline immediately caught his eye:
'WHY NEW YORK TRUSTS SPIDER-MAN?'
“Another Spider-Man article?”
Y/N didn’t bother looking up, concentrated on making the flowers fit the vase.
“Mhm.”
“I’m starting to think you have a crush on him.” Michael teased, crossing the living room and placing himself right behind her, arms around her waist and chin resting on top of her head.
Y/N raised her brows at that, shifting around to face him. Her back was now against the kitchen counter and her front faced Michael. “Well, if anyone has the hots for him, it’s Jonah,” She slipped her arms around his neck, lacing her fingers together behind it. “The man won’t let me write about anything else besides Spidey content. It’s annoying, really.”
“Mhm,” Michael nodded, a teasing smirk on his face. If only she knew how much he enjoyed reading her words on him. “Spidey, huh?” Oh, if only she knew.
She frowned. “Are you jealous of Spider-Man, Mike?”
“What? No! That’s ridiculous!” He immediately replied.
Y/N burst out laughing at his defensiveness. She shrugged. “Oh, well, at least Spider-Man is pontual!”
Michael let out the most offended little gasp she'd ever heard. “You take that back!”
🕸️ྀི
A few minutes later, they were curled up together on Y/N's couch, wrapped beneath a shared blanket.
Michael managed to keep the bowl of popcorn equilibrated on his stomach as he laid with his head resting on Y/N’s tights. She sat up, a hand playing absentmindedly with his curls.
About 15 minutes into the movie he fell asleep, little snores coming out of his mouth selling him out.
Y/N was used to it by now and she didn’t mind it—stopped pretended to get upset over it months ago. She carefully reached for the bowl on his stomach, placing it on the table next to her side of the couch before letting her fingers wander back into his hair. She looked down at him and softly ran a finger through the cut in his cheek.
Before, she meant to clean and take care of it, not wanting him to get it infected or anything. Michael had protested, of course. “It’s barely even a scratch!” He had complained. “It’ll heal on its own.”
Y/N just stared at him looking very unimpressed before cleaning it with antiseptic spray and applying some healing ointment over it.
Michael secretly loved whenever she took care of him. He thanked her afterwards with a kiss.
Now, a warm feeling took over her chest as she stared at him. He was painfully handsome. And Y/N was painfully aware of it. But not only physically beautiful, no. He couldn't walk past someone who needed help without stopping. He remembered everyone's birthday, always gave away more than he kept for himself, and carried the weight of other people's happiness as though it were his own responsibility. Sometimes she worried he cared so deeply about the world that he forgot to leave a little of that kindness for himself.
She brushed another curl away from his forehead, smiling to herself. She loved him. It almost hurt just how much.
Her gaze drifted toward the stack of papers on the coffee table, and her stomach tightened ever so slightly. Jonah had been making her life miserable over the Spider-Man article for days now, despite the fact that the deadline was still a week away.
Her thumb gently brushed another curl away from his eyes. She let her fingertips linger against his cheek, smiling when a tiny snore escaped him. Her thoughts, however, betrayed her once more.
Spider-Man.
Y/N had stopped wondering about his identity long ago. Whoever hid beneath the mask had proven, time and time again, that he loved this city enough to bleed for it. To put strangers before himself. To keep showing up. That was enough for her.
Outside her appartment, the city didn’t sleep.
If you got really quiet, firefighters sirens could be heard several blocks away. Car horns and curses from angry civilians could be heard as well. A police helicopter crossed somewhere above the rooftops. People cursing. Shouting. Laughing.
All across the city, crime carried on. New York never slept. Neither did danger.
But just for a little while, for just one quiet evening, Spider-Man did. Just for one quiet, rare night off, the mask sat forgotten inside an old handbag hidden in a forgotten alley.
The webs could wait. So could the city. Just for a little bit.
For a moment, Spider-Man allowed himself to be simply Michael Jackson. A shy photographer who was always running late; a hopeless romantic who bought wrinkled flowers every tuesday and who fell asleep on his girlfriend’s lap over movies.
Y/N smiled down at him one last time before closing her own eyes, still hoping Michael would introduce her to Spider-Man, someday.
And somewhere in the coffee table, an unfinished articled asked:
discoholicmusic
germansingergirl
theartofmadeline
ellievsbear
gummygunk
yousharknotpass
