My Love, Michael (Michael Jackson x Reader)

Confidential Call

Later that night, when Y/N's parents had fallen asleep for the first time in their new home, Y/N sat at her window seat in her large, almost empty bedroom, and stared out onto the mountains of Los Angeles, dimly lit by a deep sky of stars. With her phone in one hand and Michael's note in the other, she dialled the number written on it.

It rang twice before falling silent. Y/N assumed her call had been declined, but when she pulled her phone from her ear, its screen read 'call in progress'. Perhaps she should've waited until morning to call the number. If it really was Michael's, she was probably waking him up. She put the phone back to her ear, and a timid voice spoke up from the other end.

"Hello?" it said. Y/N would recognise that voice in a crowd of thousands. It was Michael's.

Y/N's stomach fluttered, and she was suddenly at a loss for words. What was she even calling to say? She had expected Michael to do all of the talking, but now he sounded almost confused, like he wasn't expecting a call at all. "Um, hi. I'm the girl you saw with her family earlier. You gave me this number—"

"Oh, good." Michael's voice was sweet and tender. "I...I thought it might be you. I've been waiting for a call all day!"

"You were waiting?" Y/N asked, a tinge of guilt and a drop of excitement striking her chest. She had never been in a situation like this before, and had no idea when the appropriate time to make the move was. "I'm sorry, I was waiting for my parents to go to sleep."

Michael sounded happy. "You didn't tell them I gave you my number?"

"No..." Y/N suddenly worried that Michael wasn't interested in her at all, and that it was actually her parents he was after. "Did you want me to?"

"No, I was hoping you wouldn't. That's why I snuck it into your pocket, of course!" He laughed sweetly, and not in a way to mock Y/N, like she was used to from other people.

Y/N braved the question she so desperately wanted an answer to. She had been debating the possible outcomes to it since the moment she'd found the number in her pocket. "So, why did you want to talk to me?"

His voice was a wondrous whisper. "You're interesting! I've never seen anyone like you before, especially here in LA. People like you don't live here, they belong story worlds like Neverland."

"You didn't think I looked too young?" The question came out before Y/N realised it. With her parents still treating her like one, Y/N often forgot that she wasn't a child anymore. She was a legal adult. But Michael didn't know that. She could be fifteen, for all he knew.

He sighed painfully and sniffed. "This neighbourhood is small, Y/N."

Y/N's heart stammered. He knew her name.

Michael continued, "My assistants have the money and control to find out exactly who moves here and their agenda. We can't risk people with bad intentions getting too close. I knew your age before even meeting you for the first time." His voice became a quiet whisper of a cry, and the crackle of the phone line made it a little difficult to decipher. "I hate what the media says about me. I hate what they think I am."

"Oh, Michael," Y/N comforted. She wanted to reach for his neck and blanket him in a hug, allow him to cry into her, be vulnerable. Almost feeling the embrace as she imagined it, she closed her eyes and sensed her brows pull up in agony.

"I'm sorry," his voice broke as he pulled himself together. "You said your parents were asleep. Why don't I come by your house and pick you up?"

"That would be lovely," Y/N whispered back. Maybe that hug would happen, after all.

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