Discover Top Posts Tagged with #michael is innocent

Just a reminder, do NOT watch that fuckass dumbass documentary coming out today,

Even if you’re curious. Don’t watch it, do not allow Netflix to profit off your curiosity

#michael jackson #multifandom #netflix #michael is innocent

`` When all life is seen as divine, everyone grows wings.

I am SO FCKING DISAPPOINTED and DISGUSTED by those pathetic people right now who are switching up on Michael just because of the HEAVILY ASSED edited the documentary is and how out of context it is while they themselves have NO knowledge about the whole f king story . The amount of photoshopped and fake ass pics they made of Michael and placed them in the documentary is just disgusting af not only that those idiotic dumbass people falling for it. Bruh the amount of times I’ve seen people make videos of Michael and how the documentary “opened their eyes on who Michael really is” and proceeded to call him a pedophile and her nasty names.

I’ve also seen trolls lying out their ass about Michael just to block me when I asked for evidence or when I debunked their lies 💀💀💀💀

Like what the actual FCK??!!!! Are people THIS easily manipulated??????? They fell for a documentary that’s so heavily edited, biased and completely out of context????? WTF??!!!

#michael jackson #michael joseph jackson #jaafar jackson #michael is innocent #michael jackson king of pop #michael jackson is innocent #michael jackson x reader

Rosy cheeks angelface

Pairing: Michael Jackson x !make-up-artist reader

Summary: After one week of nothing you decide to contact Michael.

SFW: acquaintances to friends/possibly more?, playing twister, holding hands, eating cookies, meeting his parents, Joseph being a ass as always, Bubbles being a cutie and loving you, Louie the llama

Wordcount: 6.9k

Note: Been pretty busy lately so this took a little longer

Taglist: @appleheadannie @7viiseven @1nth3cl0set

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

Behind the scenes masterlist

Masterlist

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One week. It's been one week since you had last seen or talked to Michael. He's been all over the news, women gushing over things you didn't even know about him.

The tissue with his number on it was rotting away next to your trim line. You really should call him.

But you're scared.

What if you say something wrong? What if he's too busy to talk and you just wasted that call?

Currently you were enjoying some of your mother's cooking, one of Michael's songs coming from the radio, your body moving unconsciously to the beat.

“Y/N.” You look up to see your mother. “Your bedroom's a mess. Clean it up before your dad comes home, you know how he is.”

You stuff your face with another spoonful of noodles before getting up. If any one of your parents found your little secret next to your trim line they'd throw it out, since it was just a simple tissue.

Your dad would more than your mom. He was a perfectionist, needing everything to be perfect. It was already hard enough that he didn't approve of your work as a makeup artist and this ‘dump', as he calls it, where you three live.

Just as your mother had said your room was a mess. You didn't really get to clean it up this week or take on the risk of embarrassing yourself on the phone.

This week alone you had a lot of clients. Your list full of gigs had you busy. That huge group of bridesmaids and their bride took a day total to get ready. Ever since you started freelancing a few years back, the women all around your neighborhood and their friends have come to you.

You make quick work of the mess and flop back onto your bed, eyes focused on the ceiling. Everything that was flooding your head was Michael, his eyes that reminded you of those paintings hanging in church. And that damned laugh, the dimples appearing every time he was grinning.

He was destroying you.

Somehow you found yourself sitting upright on the bed, the trimline in hand and the number already dialed.

Just one more click and you'd be connected to him.

Your finger was shaking right over the button, your face grimaced into something straight out of those comedies you saw on those TVs in the window displays.

The trembling gets so bad that you accidentally brush over the dial, starting the call. You yelp, nearly throwing the phone across the room.

“SHIT!”

You could hear the faint humming of the other end of the call, clearly trying to connect itself to whatever number this was.

“Hello..?” A quiet voice answers the call, making you rethink if you had dialed the wrong number. It was a woman's voice.

Immediately you pounce on the device, holding it to your ear to answer what sounded to be a middle aged woman.

“Y-Yeah, hi. Is.. uhm.. Is Michael home?”

The other end grows quiet before the woman replies just as confused. “Who is this?”

You pick at the cuticles of your free hand's fingers, upper lip nibbling at the lower one. “Oh, uhm.. It's Y/N. I-I was working with Michael on the Thriller set a-and did his make-up. He gave me this number.”

Dead silence.

That is until the woman laughs, either amused or relieved.

“Ah! Y/N. I did see your name somewhere in Michael's room just now.”

In his room?

You don't answer, too perplexed at the revelation. What could possibly be in his room that.. references you?

“Well, Y/N. Michael's a little busy with work, but I don't mind you coming around.” The woman's voice softens, the hint of a laugh in it making you feel.. warm. “I'm Katherine. His mother.”

Oh.

You expected anyone but his own mother to be the one to pick up the call.

“Oh.. Mrs. Jackson! I-I'm sorry I didn't know–”

“Oh, shush. Do you have a ride or need something to be put together?”

You stumble over your own words, tangling your index finger around the cord of the trimline. This was stupid. Maybe you shouldn't go.

But Michael..

He..

“Sure.”

The way your words flush out shock you, but you don't reclaim them. Katherine says something else, but only the most important details stick with you.

Ten minutes.

A car.

Michael.

You were gonna see Michael again.

You were gonna see Michael again!

After ending the call and thanking Katherine, you jump into your closet to find something suitable to wear. It wasn't just gonna be him, but his mother and possibly the whole family.

You couldn't wear something simple or over the top. Maybe that pencil skirt again? No. That wouldn't be good.

The room you had just cleaned was back to being a mess, but you finally find the perfect outfit to wear. With your thoroughly brushed hair rocking a blue sweater over a white shirt tucked into some jeans.

Just as Katherine had said, the car that was supposed to take you to Havenhurst stood there. It wasn't fancy, but looked well off nonetheless.

You hesitate, even more so as a guy gets out of the vehicle to open the door at the back for you. This was the start of every kidnapping if you've seen one.

What if it was the wrong number anyway?

The poker face that guy was wearing made you too scared to decline the ride, so you find yourself on the back seat of the black sedan.

Hayvenhurst wasn't as far as you had expected. It shouldn't be if the car could arrive in about ten minutes.

You watch in awe as you drive through the gates of the huge metropolis of the Encino neighborhood. The car isn't even halfway through when multiple hands slap against the window, making you recoil.

The driver doesn't seem to mind or notice, probably used to all this hysteria.

A crazy looking woman presses her face directly against the glass, trying to look inside. Luckily the windows were tinted, only making her see your silhouette.

“Who's that?!”

“A woman!”

The masses try to see into the car, slamming their hands onto the window in unison.

Fortunately the gates close behind the vehicle, relief flooding through your body.

The first thing you notice is the beautiful fountain in the center of the pathway, which reminds you a little of the yellow brick road from the Wizard of Oz, just on grey.

The house looked vintage and mystical, very huge in comparison to your small nest. Your side of the car opens and the driver steps aside to let you out.

You could swear your eyes were turning into stars and hearts with how amazed you were.

This didn't feel real.

“Y/N!”

At the sound of your name you turn to see a woman, a bit smaller in height than you, approach you. You don't even get a word out when she's already skin to skin, embracing you like a long lost daughter.

Your arms awkwardly pat on her back, an even more awkward laugh emitting from your chest.

Who you believe to be Katherine pulls back to take a good look at you, her hands coming up to frame your face. “You're even prettier than on paper.”

Now you really didn't know what to reply.

Katherine lets go of you, realizing how weird this moment must be for you. “Oh, I'm sorry, my dear. Michael's been all over the place since filming that movie.”

You're lost for words, a small hint of a smile forming on your lips. The thought of this sweet young man thinking of you makes your heart flutter. This was something you've always wanted.

“Now come on. I'll show you around while we wait for Michael.” Katherine moves behind you, placing a hand on your back to guide you into their home.

You walk past many workers, greeting them with quiet words and smiles. What shocked you was what kind of exotic animals lived with the Jacksons. As a giraffe walked by you you nearly lost your ability to stand. It was like a different world. Something completely different to your neighborhood where the only animals that you saw on the streets were dogs and thugs.

The inside of the house was just as huge as the outside. Two large staircases lead up to the second floor while the foyer itself has more space than your own room.

Katherine pulls you out of your trance by wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Her smile felt inviting. “You want something to drink?”

“O-Oh.. Uhm.. Sure.”

You watch her disappear into what you believe to be the kitchen, a slight limp in her walk.

You take the chance to explore the downstairs a little bit.

The first spot you look around is the room right next to the foyer, landing you right in what seemed to be a study.

So many pictures that made you happy to see this side of one of the most famous families in the US. You immediately recognise Michael in one of the photos, arm in arm with one of his sisters.

They look happy.

You were about to graze your hands over his face when Katherine surprises you with her presence once again.

“Michael's gonna be happy to see you.” She hands you a glass of water with a single lemon slice.

You nibble at it, still looking at the pictures with a fond glint in your eyes.

The silence that follows gets interrupted by a yelp escaping you as something throws itself at your leg, nearly knocking you to the ground. Some of the water you were drinking did get spilled a little.

At first you think it's either a cat or dog, seeing how many animals the family owned. But to your surprise.. it was a little monkey.

“Oh, Bubbles! Aren't you supposed to be upstairs?” Katherine looks down to the little monkey, who hides behind your legs.

You place your glass on the shelf next to you, kneeling down to take a good look at Bubbles. He was adorable.

“Hi, little guy..”

Bubbles makes quiet sounds, circling you in curiosity. You were just kneeling there so you wouldn't scare him. Suddenly he pounces on you, but not to attack rather cling onto you like a child. The whole moment makes you smile from ear to ear, holding the little chimp to your chest.

You stand up with Bubbles in your arms. “He's adorable.”

“He is.” Katherine pats the little monkey's head. “Michael saved him from those terrible experimentation factories.”

Bubbles keeps his arms wrapped around your neck, the diapers around his waist reminding you of a little child. He is a child. Hearing what he was treated like before being rescued made you think of how so many other animals probably died because of experiences like that.

“Poor thing..”

Katherine only smiles at your words before motioning out of the living room. “Why don't we wait outside for Michael?”

The sun was already high up in the sky as you step out, reflecting on the huge pool not further away.

Bubbles plays with your hair as you carry him after Katherine, tugging at it just enough to get your attention.

A sound behind you gains it instead and as you turn you see a llama being lead by one of the workers. He walks past you and into what looked like to be its enclosure.

“That's Louie.” Katherine appears next to you, having noticed your shocked expression. “Michael bought him about a year ago.”

You smile at the thought of seeing Michael later.

Louie huffs, his head turning to you after being freed of the leash. The moment you two now seemed to have making you stand still, not wanting to scare him. His eyes find yours, or you at least think they do.

With a shaking right hand, the other still holding Bubbles, you move forward to rest it between those eyes that entrance you.

“Ah, Michael!” Katherine's soft voice grows in volume and as you look back you see her waving.

“Mother, what's Bubbles doing here?”

That voice. You immediately recognize it. It was soft and higher than your usual. And as you try to overcome your nervousness and stop hiding behind his mother his eyes widen just as you had expected.

“She just came out to surprise you.”

Both of you ignore Katherine's words, too shy to even say a word.

“Y-Y/N!”

“H-Hi Michael..”

“I'll leave you both to it.”

Katherine chuckles warmly, patting you back and rubbing over Bubbles head, who tries to grab her hands the moment she does. “It was nice meeting you, Y/N.”

You shyly wave at her retreating figure, kind of scared now that you were alone with Michael.

Bubbles himself wiggles out of your grasp, extending his arms to Michael who immediately takes him.

Traitor.

Once again you have to remind yourself to say something and NOT make this awkward.

“H-He's.. uhm.. He's sweet.” You point to Bubbles.

Michael adjusts his hold on him.“Yeah.. heh.. He's always with me actually.” His grin just wouldn't disappear, either of nervousness or he truly was happy to see you.

He quietly motions for the two of you to continue walking, keeping a respectful distance. So you do and you take a stroll through Hayvenhurst's huge garden, which wasn't as big as you had imagined. It was still beautiful, but you could see where the family's patriarch's priorities lie.

Michael takes a breath. “So..” He clears his throat. “Did you find here okay?”

Butterflies form in your stomach. “Yeah.. uhm.. your mom sent a cab.” The edges of your lips wouldn't stop tugging themselves up.

Michael only nods, stopping for Bubbles to wiggle out of his arms and explore the small garden on his own. The two of you stand there. You couldn't help your nails digging into your upper arm, trying to endure this awkwardness.

“Nice garden.”

Mental facepalm. Stupidstupidstupid.

“Thanks.”

Silence.

Why did you even come here in the first place?

“Alice.” You suddenly stand there as straight as a candle.

“What?”

“A-Alice! The book. Did you.. read it?” You swear you were gonna puke with how warm your body was getting.

“Oh! Yeah. It reminds me a little of Neverland.”

You don't say anything, too rooted into place to even move a muscle, just smiling like the idiot you are.

You decide to fidget with your fingers, the air cool yet giving you little room to breathe. Why did you decide to wear two layers again? You tuck at the collar, trying to not look like you were about to pass out.

Bubbles plays with some flowers, jumping up and down in excitement. You unconsciously smile, watching the little monkey act like a real child. He suddenly runs back to you two, stopping in front of you to show you a red petal.

“Whatchu got there?” You kneel down to his level, taking the hand he had the pedal in to take a look at it. “Oh, how beautiful.”

You rub over his head, heart leaping in your chest at how adorable he was acting. He jumps into your arms, squealing. Then he decides to show Michael, who was watching you both very intently.

Only seconds after pouncing into Michael, Bubbles runs back to the house.

“Uh oh.” Michael gets up from where he sat previously, a very concerned smile on his face. A smile that never ever seems to break no matter how serious the situations are. “We should follow him.”

You move a few seconds after he had disappeared into the back door of the house. It was fairly easy finding Michael, who was calling Bubbles from upstairs. The upper floor wasn't as heavily decorated as downstairs, but it had a charm to it.

“Bubbles get down!”

You follow the voice to a half open door, which leads into Michael's bedroom. It was cluttered, albums and instruments adorning every nook and cranny your eyes could reach.

The shelves were just packed with vinyls and books, your fingers tracing over every single one in awe. A small piano stood against one wall, tiny enough to probably carry around the upper floor. Your fingers carefully hover over the keys, hesitant of pressing down to create sounds.

From the corner of your eye you see the desk where a lot of paper and other things were stacked on the other. You get closer to it, brushing aside what looked to be scratch papers with lyrics. Under that you find a notebook, which reminded you of the one Michael had shown you a few weeks back.

A page was just laying there, begging to be seen. You only see the lower part of a face, a name under it.

Y/N

Your eyes widen, your nail hooking under another paper hiding the full sketch. Before you could see the complete thing a hand pulls it away from the desk, roughly shutting it.

Michael's face was as red as a tomato, Adam's apple bobbing up and down. “That's private.”

Your eyes widen, mouth forming into an ‘o'. “Oh, sorry.. I-I–”

“It's fine.”

“No, I shouldn't have–”

“It's fine.”

Your shoulders sag down in defeat, not wanting to continue arguing about something that would lead to more problems. Why were you so nosey to begin with?

You walk past Michael, who was frantically trying to clean up the mess he had created,muttering something under his breath you couldn't quite catch.

Instead of standing there dumbfounded you look more around the room.

The first thing you get your hands on was an album, Thriller to be exact. Your fingers trace over his face. Something heavy suddenly tips over from a shelf Bubbles was exploring, causing you to kneel next to the monkey.

“You okay?” Bubbles only looks up at you with big puppy-like eyes. You check him for any bruise before picking up what looked like a game. “Oh, what have you got there?”

Bubbles points on the cover where the huge letters spell out ‘Twister' in multiple colors.

“I bought it some time ago.”

Your head turns at the sound of Michael's voice, which didn't sound as excited as you expected.

“I haven't really played it yet.” He nervously scratches at his nape.

“Why not? Don't you have.. friends or what about your siblings?” Your heart feels heavier somehow, that sad expression on his face undeniable.

The words somehow came out in a way you didn't want to.

Your free hand flies up. “I'm sorry! That sounded wrong..”

“It's alright, I get you.” His soft tone remains, that smile never wavering.

Your eyes move back down to the cover of the box, an idea flashing through your head. The lightbulb was already high up and visible. Michael doesn't seem to notice though, his focus back on Bubbles who was already climbing up onto another shelf.

You remember the times your parents would invite some friends and family, the love for Twister being the one thing all of you had in common and from Michael's demeanor that was the case for him too.

Instead of asking straight from the get go, you kneel down to unpack the game.

“What are you doing?” Michael asks, stopping right in front of you.

“Playing.”

“Alone?”

“No, you're playing too.”

You raise your head to see Michael trying to suppress a grin. He quickly helps you set everything up, having to move stuff that was in the way.

“Do you even know how to play it?” He frowns.

Now you frown, gasping dramatically at the sheer audacity. The awkward tension between you calms just a little. “Do I KNOW?! Mister.. Of course I do. I'm THE Twister-champion!”

Michael's room is filled with laughter and playful jabs.

“HEY! Stop cheating!”

“I'm not! I have blue!”

“Blue?! You have green!”

“What? No I--oh. Sorry.”

You both end up collapsing after Bubbles jumps onto your back. Michael's hand, which was close to you, loses its grip and he lands directly on top of you. You turn your body so you lay on your own back.

Oh God.

His face was directly over yours.

You swear you could smell bubblegum on him, mixed with caramel popcorn. The tiny space between you burns hotter than ten suns, his breath fanning over your face.

Both of you didn't know how to react or what to say, the game you just played immediately forgotten. His hands support his weight, resting right next to your head.

“I'm sorry.” Michael flinches away, crawling backwards to create space between the two of you.

With a little help from pulling yourself up on a small stool next to the mess you both had created you sit up right. It was kind of adorable to see someone as Michael losing his shit and growing redder than a tomato.

You side eye Bubbles, whose mouth looked suspiciously close to grinning. Traitor.

“It's not your fault.” You shift onto your knees. “That's actually the fun of Twister.”

His eyes meet yours again, communicating in a way.

“You know.. I always lose at it.”

“I thought you're the..“ He dramatically raises his hands in the air. ”..Twister-champion!”

“I lied.”

His jaw flies open, unable to suppress a chuckle.

You burst out laughing, nearly choking on your own spit. Michael can't help joining in until both of you are back on your backs, cackling like two hyenas. The tears burn brightly as you clutch your stomach. It takes a good few seconds to calm with a heavy sigh before flopping back onto your belly to stare at the top of Michael's head.

Seeing him so happy made you happy.

You knew so little of him yet felt so smitten. And not because he was Michael Jackson, no. Just knowing the fact that he enjoys the things you enjoy made you feel less lonely.

“Soooo..” Michael's head tilts up at the sound of your voice, seemingly awestruck at how close you were. “How was your day? Did you record some new songs?”

His eyes sparkle as he mentally recounts today, turning so he could face you fully. The first thing coming to mind was the little baking session with his mom this morning and that little fight with LaToya which was already the standard between the two.

But did he really want to burden you with so much stuff? What if these things weren't that interesting to you?

Yet the way you were looking at him.. it was hard to miss those sparkling eyes. The moment he saw you on set about a week ago he knew you were special. You were certainly no Diana Ross or Brooke Shields, but that was what made you special. Just a girl with her smile and charm.

“I made some cookies this morning..” His hand comes up to scratch his neck. “Hazlenut.”

You hum in delight, stomach already rumbling. It wasn't a secret that you were a big back, loving food more than most other things.

Michael notices, the dimples in his cheeks growing. It was kind of adorable to see you so excited for something simple as cookies. His index finger taps on the mat under you both, thinking of how to keep you entertained. This was the closest he's come to having a friend over who wasn't there for the sole reason of being picked by his father to keep his status upright. Someone who at first glance wasn't just there because she was asked to or because it was a chance to pry into some famous guy's private life.

"We can get some." He giggles. “Let's just hope Janet hasn't eaten all of them.”

You watch him get up to his feet, dusting his palms off on his pants. Just as you were about to do the same you see his hand shoot out to help you up, which you gladly take.

Michael smiles nervously, not meeting your eyes. “We can clean up later. Come on.”

You follow him back downstairs, where a lot of maids were cleaning the foyer and dining room. Of course you were wondering what the occasion was but don't ask Michael or Katherine, who waves to you from one of the rooms you pass by.

The kitchen wasn't huge per se, but polished to the smallest detail. Michael opens a cupboard to rummage through it. He quickly finds the cookie tin and opens it directly in front of your eyes, or rather.. nose.

Smelling good was an understatement. They not only look good, but the pronounced hazelnut smell was driving you crazy. “Wow..”

Michael's lips tug up at one side, smirking at your reaction. He shoves the box closer to you, motioning you to take one, which you do. You eye him from the side before taking a bite.

And oh God.

It tastes like heaven, the crunch making you all giddy inside.

“Ohhh.. you made these?!”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “Mother and me.”

You roll your eyes while a pleasurable sound escapes your lips. It was almost ridiculous. “Take that tin away or the cookies are gone.”

Michael snorts, but doesn't do what you asked him to do. “Let's eat all of them then.”

You pause while chewing, nearly choking as he pulls you through the halls by your arm until you land outside.

Ending up in his studio wasn't on your plan for today, but being there was kind of an honor. He lets you enter like it was your home rather than his personal studio.

The only thing he does warn you about was getting crumbs on all the buttons and sliding thingys you were more than curious about.

“What does this one do?” You point to one of the sliders while munching happily on your third cookie.

Michael’s fingers hover over said slider,pushing it up a little. A recording of his voice echoes off of the studio, a little bit more high pitched. “This one pitches my voice a little higher, which is how I get some of my background melodies.”

You only nod, more focused on licking out the hazelnut cream.

“Are they that good?”

Your mouth was full but you couldn't help whining on and on. “I desperately need the recipe.. Like.. right now.”

Both of you spend your time laughing, munching on cookies until they're gone and just sharing things you didn't even think to share.

You shift a little in your seat, moving your legs up so they are pressed against your chest and that you could sit sideways. The room was quiet, not as awkward as expected, yet comforting on a calming level.

Even if you felt safer than earlier you couldn't help fidget with pieces of your clothes.

“How's your work going?” He raises one eyebrow. “You do work outside of the gig, right?”

You sit up right, arms wrapped around one knee. “Oh.. yeah. I work from home or go to some clients' homes to do what I do.”

“And is it fun?”

Your smile fades a little, shoulders sagging a little. It was a valid question, yet why did it feel weird having it asked? With a frown you just nod, but it was obvious underlying feelings plagued you.

This time Michael couldn't keep quiet.

“What's wrong?”

You felt bad making him worry, a smile (even if fake) appears on your face. “Oh, nothing.”

“You sure?” He leans forward in his seat to take a look at you. “It doesn't look like it's nothing.”

You sigh, resting your arm on your lap so you could hold your face in your hand. He was pretty sharp you gotta admit. “Well.. It is fun, but..”

“But?”

With a deep breath you sit straight, thinking through what to say. “You see.. I'm sure you never expected to do singing professionally.”

He frowns. “Well no, but.. what do you mean?”

Another deep breath and you swing yourself to your feet, strolling through the room like you owned it. “I never wanted to do make-up, but still ended up where I am. And I do have fun.”

“But?”

You shrug, turning to look at him with a sad smile plastered on your face. “But.. Nothing ever works out.”

Michael frowns. His thoughts were running miles an hour. Meeting you has been the most fun thing in a while, but he hadn't ever thought about your struggles. Now that he thinks about it he did find it weird that you let him drop you off in the middle of nowhere after the last day on Thriller.

“What happened?”

His question makes you lean back on the soundboard, heart heavy in your chest. You've never really talked about yourself or about anything really. Now that he's noticed that he is beginning to grow a lot more curious about you as a person.

“Life happened.” You tap your foot on the ground, straightening your posture just a little. “Life's not always fair.”

Michael huffs out a small chuckle, nodding at your words before getting up from his seat. “You don't have to say that twice.” He slowly strides in your direction, hesitant with how close he was allowed to be. His hand slowly comes up to brush over your knuckles, that have found their way to your lap again.

Your hands flinch on instinct, making him retract his own. “Sorry.”

An embarrassed smile tugs at your lips, cheeks heating at the short contact of his soft and warm touch. Instead of removing himself from your space he leans against the sound board next to you, his hand dangerously close to yours after you had put it down to support your body weight.

“What would you do instead of.. well.. make-up?”

Michael's voice softens impossibly, something you've never thought he was capable of. His eyes couldn't stop studying your side view, almost as if he was tracing every line and flaw, but from his point of view there was none. You were flawless.

“Modeling.”

You think he was gonna question you, make fun of your unreachable dream like so many have before. It was true. Modeling was what you always wanted to do, but were unable to with your lack of wealth and experience.

“I always wanted to be like these models in magazines. Everytime, as a kid, I passed a booth with one on the cover. I just wanted it to be me.”

You turn your head away from him.

“But it can't be.”

Something warm envelops your hand,making you look up with wide eyes. Michael was smiling back at you with that warm glance that looked to be only meant for you.

“Everything can be.” He intertwines his fingers with yours. “If you just let it be.”

The silence that follows for once isn't awkward. It's as pleasantly warm as his touch and sweet as he himself was.

“What happened that you didn't pursue your dream?”

“Well.. We're not that well off and.. my dad he's pretty strict. I'm sure you know that feeling.”

Michael immediately nods, huffing out another chuckle.

You shift a little against the soundboard. “When I was younger I found out my mom used to do small model gigs and just seeing her so carefree on photos that were hidden away.. It made me think of how it would be like..” You take a deep breath. “..if it was me.”

Even as you look back down to your feet his eyes try to meet yours, leaning forward to keep looking at you.

“You can do anything if you set your mind to it, Y/N.”

You can't help your eyes not wanting to break contact, eyebrows tugged up at how vulnerable you felt.

Just as you were about to go further the studio's door slams open, making both of you flinch apart. Michael stands straight, going to confront anyone who was disturbing your peace. You clearly had watched him flip the do not disturb sign just earlier.

You hide behind his back, even more so as you see it being his dad who had just invited himself in.

“Doesn't look like workin' to me, Kat.”

You peek around to see Katherine behind the man, clearly looking like she wanted to hold him back but was unable to do so.

“Explain this, boy.” Joseph suddenly moves past a shaking Katherine, pointing at you with such anger in his eyes. “Who's this?”

Michael keeps an arm in front of you, the same anger coating his expression. He didn't even need the words to express how disrespected he felt from how his father was acting.

“You're supposed to focus on your music, not some girl.” Joseph pronounces the last words rather harshly. Michael frowns, clearly having taken more offence than you. You knew about how strict Joseph was, it was obvious from some interviews you've seen.

“She's not just some girl.”

“Oh, what else is she then? Holy Mary?”

Michael's shoulders tense, upset at how his father was treating you. You put one hand on them to calm him down, having him look at your overly relaxed expression. “It's alright. I don't mind going, we can talk on the phone.”

“No. I won't just let him kick you out like that.”

“It's not kicking out if I'm leaving on my own accord.”

“Y/N..”

You immediately shut him up with your hands enveloping his, smiling up at him as if you were carefree. When you turn to look at his parents you nearly broke into another smile when you saw Katherine do the same, just hiding it so Joseph wouldn't crash out. Speaking of him, he was fuming at how provocatively you were touching his son.

Michael doesn't argue and just leads you outside, past his father whose whole face was twisted with pure rage. You on the other end were kind of enjoying it, having Michael ignore his father just as much as you ignored your own whenever he had his episodes.

An older man was waiting outside, who Michael stops in front. He doesn't talk to him, wanting to first check on you.

“I'm sorry.“

You shake your head. “Sorry about what? That your dad's..” You lean in his direction to whisper the rest. “..a tyrant?”

Michael laughs at your words, warning your heart just a fraction, if that was even possible with how giddy you felt. His focus turns to the older man, one hand moving to your upper back. You swear the air is getting thicker.

“Bill, could you accompany her home?”

Bill only nods once, motioning to the car.

You now had to say your goodbyes to Michael. It wasn't even that long of a visit which made you already miss him. With a heavy heart you turn to him. His expression matched yours, all puppy eyed and sad.

“I’ll call you once I'm home.” You muster a smile,even more so at his hands holding yours.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You distance yourself from Michael, waving to him before turning to leave. Not even a few steps away you already miss him. You do the unthinkable and stop in your tracks.

Deep breath.

Very deep breath.

You turn back, face to face with him. It takes a lot of strength to run back to him and give him a small kiss on the cheek. He's stiff immediately, the spot where your lips had brushed tickling so bad that he had to cover it with his hand.

“I'll see you later.”

His lips twitches, not sure if it wants to decide to smile or to pout at how overwhelmed he was. Even minutes after you've left, out of his eyes, he couldn't help just standing there. It is when his parents exit the studio behind him that he finally snaps out of it.

“You better not bring that girl here again, boy. She's distracting you.”

The whole warm feeling leaves in an instant as he hears his father badmouth you.

“Joseph.. “

“Quiet, Katherine!”

Michael turns back to them, rage in his eyes. His father does this everytime Michael was even a fraction happier, ripping him away from the joy like some vaccum sucking all the life out of him.

“Enough. You don't get to tell me who I hang out with and what I do with my freetime!”

“Free time? Boy, you ain't got no free time. Your only purpose is to be the eye candy to these people out there.” Joseph points in direction gate, where Michael could hear the screams of his die hard fans.

He wasn't wrong. His whole life, ever since he started humming tunes as a kid, was covered in that unending spotlight he sometimes didn't even want.

But you were the only light he currently wanted. You didn't see him as something to fawn over, not visibly at the very least. Like a breath of fresh air.

Michael knew arguing with Joseph would be as effective as teaching Bubbles to count to one hundred. Hmm.. That would be more likely than Joseph ever listening to something other than money related stuff. So he just walks back to the house, ignoring everything his father threw his way.

“Boy, come back here! I ain't done!”

Michael walks back to his room, desperately awaiting that one phone call.