Saving Michael Jackson

I need you, God i need you

He starts smiling, shaking his head like he's caught her in something obvious. "See? See? This is exactly what I meant."

"I... I didn't do anything," I frown at him, confused, defensive.

He doesn't walk toward me like a normal person would. No casual pace, no relaxed movement. Just this steady, direct approach with a straight face that makes it worse somehow.

"No. Don't do that," I smile anyway, shaking my head.

He bites his lower lip. "Do what?" he asks, still coming closer.

"Bite your lip like that and give me the look," I say, trying to catch my breath, already failing.

"I see you like that look," he says, eyes locked on my lips now as he closes the distance. Our noses almost touch.

"I... I didn't say that—"

He strokes my left cheek, still looking at my lips, still biting his lip slightly, smiling like he knows exactly what he's doing. I close my eyes for a second, trying to stay steady, but it's impossible.

"Mike?" I whisper, voice unsteady.

My gaze drops. My breathing gets faster, uneven. My legs feel weak, like they forgot how to stand. My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it's going to give out. Michael gently pulls my chin up. He smiles once—small, certain—then kisses me. His lips are soft, real, immediate. My thoughts stop for a second like they've been switched off. Then I respond, pushing back into the kiss, needing the closeness more than I want to admit. I wrap a hand around his back. He pulls me closer instantly, both hands on my face, deepening it like he's been holding back for too long. After a moment, he pulls away just enough to breathe.

"I've been wanting to do this for a while," he says, voice low and uneven. "I need you. God, I need you." He shakes his head slightly, still staring at me like he's not done feeling it.

I touch his cheek, holding his face gently, looking straight into his eyes. They look almost black up close—deeper than I ever noticed before. I always thought they were brown, but now they feel darker, like they reflect everything back at you. Like he sees too much. Like he sees me too clearly.

"Guys! I found it!" Wanda's voice cuts through from the hallway.

Michael slowly brushes his thumb over my lips, lingering for a second longer than necessary, then steps back. That same faint smirk is still there, like he's replaying it too. I'm still frozen in it.

"I found the password," Wanda says as she enters.

Michael looks down, still smiling slightly, as if nothing in the world could possibly be wrong. Or as if he doesn't care that someone might have just walked in on everything.

"Did I interrupt something?" Wanda asks, narrowing her eyes.

"No. No, no," I say quickly, still feeling it on my mouth. "We just... we were talking about Jermaine's favorite—favorite book. It might be there."

Wanda looks between us suspiciously. "Well hello? Were you listening? I found it, you can't believe what this douchbag has put. I want to spank my maid 247."

Michael let out a short laugh, shaking his head.
But Wanda's expression doesn't relax. She's still watching too closely. When Michael eventually leaves the room, I moved to follow, but Wanda stoped me.

"Everything's fine?" she asked.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?" I smiled too quickly.

A moment later, keys turned in the front door.