michael's being immature & childhood bsf!reader won't give into him.. he doesn't like it but it forces him to face his biggest enemy—confrontation & confession (that otw-thriller transition was the era i imagined)
something you'd soon come to realize about michael was his emotional immaturity, and that often bled into pettiness, and pettiness bled into irrational responses towards any kind of conflict. you don't think his intentions are ill, it's more of a 'i'm feeling big emotions that are too troublesome to put a name too, so i'll shut down instead.' and his way of shutting down was often times a form of cutting off access. in this case the silent treatment.
this behavior wasn't new to you, it's something he's done in the past before. to his parents, his siblings, his managers, his assistants, and eventually you. although he was typically very forgiving, some would even say patient when it came to you.
he could tolerate your mood swings or attitudes, he could cope with you irritating him now and then, often times giving you more than enough chances to redeem yourself. but, something else you'd learn about michael is his lack of accountability, his misguided judgement, and blatantly childish accusations. as the two of you aged this realization would force you to put your foot down, and become a bit more stubborn with michael, despite his silent protests. born with those fawn-like eyes of his, it was difficult not giving into him, but someone had to admit enough was enough.
it used to bother you—the silence. and it'd always be so abrupt, a stiff pocket of air resting between you two, tension rolled off him so thickly you'd think the air around him might manifest into a physical shield of literal defiance.
at the time you were somewhat emotionally depend it on him often searching for his reassurance and validation, sounds juvenile but everyone's once young and dumb. however, you're in your twenties and that simply won't do. if there's an issue, address the elephant. if not let it stomp it's way out the room.
again it was petty—his attitude. you'd gone on a date.. and hadn't consulted in him prior. along with his immaturity was his possessiveness as well.
through word of mouth, he'd find out sooner than you'd like that you'd gone out and flirt with someone other than him. michael may've developed this possessiveness though your shared childhood/teenage experiences. first kiss, first date, first crush, first time. but for whatever reason those experiences didn't affect you the same way they did him. he wasn't your boyfriend despite those moments, so you figured both of you are up for grabs! had michael been more honest about his feelings maybe things would be different. and you'd made up your mind that you weren't gonna pull teeth with him, and he hates that.
he wants to show that he disapproves, how you should apologize for not letting him know beforehand, he is your best friend after all? why didn’t you tell him?
but you knew better than anyone that he would've had a problem regardless.
now here you are, beneath a warm, buzzing kitchen light that contours the depths of his face in a annoyingly beautiful way. a relaxed, twinkly night sky rests above his california home, the faint activity of his siblings outside could be heard through the nearby kitchen window. and a pouty, crossed armed 20 something stands across from you, childishly avoiding eye contact.
you unconsciously mimic his stance, "so you're not gonna speak?"
he looks away, cause suddenly the wall decals kathrine decided to decorate the kitchen with are really interesting, he never realized how glittery they were.
"okay." you shrug. you won't beg for his attention and he knows that, but he's stubborn nonetheless. your expression was flat and disinterested in his juvenile demeanor. you notice the subtle wrinkle that forms between his brows, and his lips curl into an even deeper pout. he doesn't know whether to sulk or play mad.
he watches you from the corner of his eye head towards the cracked back door, making your way too the backyard where the rest of his siblings reside. what you don't see is his dissatisfied frown staring at the back of your head when you slip your way through the door.
he wants you to give in so bad, wants you to rush over and plead for his attention, explain yourself and beg for forgiveness. overtime he's gotten so used to people desperately wanting a spot in his life, he's gotten used to others fighting for a spot in his line of attention. however, his tactics didn't work on you. in your eyes he wasn't larger than life, you just see him as michael.
if he wants to stomp around and mope then so be it.
he’d be a fool to deny the sour tinge of uninvited jealousy that sits at the pit of his stomach when he watches you seamlessly fall into a conversation with one of his relatives. he knows that willingly isolating himself, for the sake of holding a grudge is doing more emotional damage to him than it is you. watching you dismiss him and then swiftly fraternize outside with tito and la toya does nothing but make him feel worse. silly and embarrassed—and he should!
he just couldn’t wrap his mind around it. you don’t care who he goes out with, who he takes as a date to his long list of events and award shows, or even who he flirts with! i mean he’s purposefully flirted with other women directly in front of you, and you’d have the nerve to encourage him to ask said woman out on a date. or worse—compliment the woman yourself. your genuine security didn’t seem to click in his mind.
and in his failed attempt at triggering you he soon comes to terms that he’s upsetting himself more and looking for reassurance in you. reassurance that he’s you’re best friend, that he’s your favorite, that he comes first in your life.
your emotional distance feels like venomous rejection to him, at least that's how he's taking it. is it based in truth.. no. you're vulnerable and honest with michael, but you also know when to detach and give him the well needed space you deemed necessary. he needs to learn to come to terms on how he feels and express them.
but from you're current point of view, he's glaring holes through your skin with an unsettled weight in his chest. he doesn't know whether to stay inside and drown in his own self-pity for face the terror of vulnerability.
however it seems as though his body made a decision before his emotions could. before he knows it his legs are carrying him through the kitchen, and towards the same backdoor. traveling across the yard with laser-focus on his loafers, assuming if he hadn’t made eye contact just yet he wouldn't stop himself.
he must've been the topic of discussion, he could hear tito mumble, "here he come." with both you and la toya responding with a shared airy giggle.
you kick your chin up, a expecting grin stretched across your lips. you knew it'd only be a matter of time before he broke his own promise of staying grumpy.
the edges of his tone were achy and fragile, "can i speak to you?" the words fell off his tongue shaky, insensitively you wanted to laugh. you recognize situations like these are hard for him—being confrontational n' all. but this is his own doing, and his pitiful, hunched over stance, and his broken tone is a bit melodramatic.
you don't immediately respond, standing up with a hand gesture that suggests the two of you separate from the group and return back inside.
you patiently stroll behind him, shoes creaking against the floorboards with each step as the two of you inch closer to his bedroom.
the air circulating his room feels fresh and cooling, his curtains faintly ripple along the breeze that trailed through his cracked window. his room wasn't as cluttered as usual, it generally felt more open tonight. however, to him, he felt as if he was being locked away in a closet big enough for an eight year old; cause that's how he felt.
while this might not have been a big deal to you, expressing himself emotionally outside of music, let alone face to face was a challenge for him. it didn't matter the situation.
but damn he wish y'all were talking on the phone, or he was writing you a letter. he feels as though he could do this much better that way.
he watches you shuffle across his room, the springs in his mattress creaking beneath your weight. your hands rest patiently in your lap, twisting your matching diamond bracelet around your wrist. it’s a gift you received from michael in your late teens, and the two of you are known for practically never taking them off.
the thud in michael’s ribs are loud and startling, he hadn’t even realized how anxious he was until he looked at you. the guilt of ignoring you and the anxiety of laying himself bare emotionally was truly eating at him. you could see it in his face, and although you do want him to face this head on—you flash him the same gentle smile from earlier, patting at the freshly washed linen that stretched across his bed.
“sit next to me.” to him your voice almost slows the room down, your tone so velvety and inviting.
when he makes his way over to you, he clutches his large hands around your own, this time your palms resting in his lap. you raise your brows expectantly, and you take notice to the way his adam’s apple bobs with nerves.
“i’m—” he breaks eye contact, now staring at your held hands in his lap, “i didn’t mean to ignore you earlier. i was upset.”
“you did mean to ignore me, michael.” there wasn’t any attitude to your tone either, nothing for him to pick at so he could desperately change the subject. you just simply pointed out a fact.
a large huff escapes from his nose, more irritated with himself more than anything. “you’re right—i’m sorry.”
large palms cup the sides of your face as he plants delicate kisses to both cheeks, he can feel you grinning without completely seeing it.
your head falls to the side with a smuggish grin, “now was that hard?”
he’s eyeing you through his lashes, “sort’ve.” he stares at your necklace. “why didn’t you tell me you had a date?”
“i wasn’t aware i needed your permission.”
he flinches at the sudden placement of your hand on his chin, “then why does it bother you so much?”
his lips part, and you can see him stop himself, pressing his mouth into a straight line. your expression softens.
“i dunno..” the edges of his sentence trail off into a sigh, he knows exactly why it bothers him so. it’s almost as if his throat latches around his confession in a way to hold him back, although it’s all mental.
“i don’t ignore you when you go out on dates.” you point out.
his eye contact falls again, “i don’t like those dates.” had the breeze coming in from outside had been any louder, you would’ve missed his response. his voice hardly touched a whisper.
you dip your head closer to his, gently forcing him to keep his eyes on you. “you mean like like?”
your search for clarification results in a lighthearted smirk, “yes, like like.”
he swallows again. it’s like you’ve got him trapped in a corner.
without warning he quickly reaches behind you, grabbing at a teddy plush. he raises it in front of his face, using the lifeless doll as a shield. you’re met with the distorted reflection of yourself through the roundness of the bears eyes.
you huff an airy giggle, reaching out for his knee with amusement. man is he dramatic.
“you already know that i like you. so why do you pretend you don’t.”
“you never said anything—” you reach around his hands still holding onto the bear, slowly pulling it down to reveal his now reddened face. “it’s rude to make assumptions.”
“that you like me?” you tilt your head with faux confusion.
“yes.” and he’s got the nerve to sound exasperated after being a brat all day long.
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