Bad Attraction | Chris Motionless x Michael Jackson

CHAPTER 14

I love him.

The words had come naturally to him, once he had allowed himself to let his thoughts wander - for what? for what? The realization hadn't been such a realization, and hadn't surprised him in the least, more of an admittance. Yes, Michael loved him. This was love.

When Chris fucked him. When he kissed him. When he wrapped his arms around Michael's waist in his sleep, when he laughed, or smiled, or when he indulged in whatever thoughts Michael blurted out, and when he looked at him.

That feeling, that light, sweet, chest-warming, nervous and encompassing feeling, that was love. There were no doubts to be had.

I love him.

And now what? He had no good answer to that and, with a sharp intake of breath and his eyes fluttering close, Michael pushed the last question out of his mind, focusing instead on the trail of kisses along his neck. He basked in them, in the feel of them and tried to commit it to memory while he still could.

Sometimes, when he glimpsed Chris looking back at him, he thought he could see some sort of... returned affection. A fondness, maybe? Definitely something. Something he couldn't discern.

To be fair, he wasn't exactly trying to look, either. In any other situation, he would. He would poke and push and see, but not now. Not there. Here, his only intention was to make the most of the remaining- oh shit, it was evening already, meaning the day was mostly done. Behind. Lost forever. They had so little left, Michael didn't want to ruin the next ones by pressing too much and have Chris bolt away.

For this, he wasn't brave.

And sure, there was the hope - the foolish, overly optimistic hope - that it could be returned. That the something in Chris' eyes was love, too, or at least as close to it as it could, and that it was possible for them to have a future, outside of these walls. Maybe. Even a small one.

But then, Michael still had two months to spend. And he would do them, no matter what feelings had changed or hadn't. He had given his word. But two months was so long, when one couldn't do anything but talk for five brief minutes three times a week on an old phone, for a new relationship.

And that was the best Michael could offer, at the time. Which implied Chris returning the feelings Michael had nurtured on his own, in spite of anything that would appear slightly reasonable, given their shared situation. For all he knew, even if it was harder and harder to remember it with each passing minutes - but Michael knew himself, too, and knew he liked to see what he wanted to see, too - Chris still considered him with the same contempt as he had when it had all begun.

Or, well, perhaps not at the beginning. Perhaps all of Chris' contempt had disappeared long ago, to be replaced by that fondness, or more, Michael had-

See, he was doing it right now. Or was he?

Chris made it hard to think clearly. If that man's voice was illegal, and his cock even worse than that, Michael's vocabulary had no idea how to qualify the effect his kisses had on an unsuspecting - but very willing - party.

Damn, but that fucker had all the reasons in the world to be cocky. Even Michael would, if he were in his shoes.

That'd sure solve some problems.

But Michael wasn't in anyone's shoes but his own, and thus could glimpse and theorize and guess, but couldn't know.

Thus he attempted to keep every second of every waking day in his memory, tried to find some ways, some quirks or remarks, to make himself as unforgettable, as interesting in Chris' mind as the other was in his own, and spend as much time as possible with him.