Purple Thriller (Michael Jackson x Prince Fanfiction)

Purple Steam

Prince POV:

"You can't love him." I told myself. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, my hair loose after the shower and my eyes staring back at me intently. My heart had been beating rapidly much more frequently as of late as well. Such is the consequence of falling in love. 

I shut my eyes tightly, willing my heart to slow down with calm breathing. I had realized some time ago now that I care very deeply for Michael Jackson. I used to hate him when I was younger. I felt at the time like I was the more complete performer and therefore he wasn't worth my time. But that hatred turned to disinterest in the 2000's. Maybe even pity. But when I saw him pass out into his food a few weeks ago, everything changed. 

Michael and me had become very close. I had saved Michael's life by bringing him to the hospital and ordering the postponement of his "This Is It" tour. I had saved a man who would become my friend and the father of three wonderful children. The James Brown concert didn't matter to me anymore whatsoever. 

The children had made me feel like I was apart of the family. When Amiir died, I never lost my interest in being a father. But I was so...traumatized that I didn't have the heart to try and have kids again. But little Prince, Paris and Michael Jr made me feel like the father I never got to be for Amiir. I sang little Prince, lullabies on my guitar, settled small arguments, got the kids to eat their vegetables and now little Prince was even starting to call me "daddy." It was a feeling that was both incredibly frightening and warming at the same time. 

Michael had trusted me enough to show me his true face, damage and all. I trusted him enough to tell him about Amiir. The man who was once my greatest enemy had become my greatest friend. But that was now in jeopardy. I had fallen in love with Michael Jackson. 

It started out relatively normally. I felt genuine concern for him during his initial recovery. Concern grew to butterflies in my stomach and blushing. That turned to not wanting to go back to Paisley Park despite my obligations here being over. And then that finally turned to me legitimately not wanting to return to my room the other night when we got home from the movies. 

But I COULDN'T love him. Not when our friendship was already so strong. But almost as importantly, because my faith wouldn't allow it. I'm a Jehovah's Witness. Michael used to be as well. Until Thriller forced him out that is. But the first rule of thumb is that there can't be any sinners in our midst. To love Michael is a sin. 

"He doesn't like me that way anyway." I told myself to ease the conflicting thoughts. "He's nice to everybody."

I had never fallen in love with a man before. Contrary to popular opinion, I wasn't attracted to men. Being gender-fluid doesn't necessarily mean being gay. But despite my affirmations that I was in fact only attracted to women, Michael had proven me wrong. I loved him. Faults and all. I had come to respect him as a human being and as a musician. Every night I prayed heavily that my feelings would die down, but the next morning I felt more strongly then the night before. 

This was all not to mention the media and the fans. Many of them would surely scrutinize and turn on us if anything broke out. As it was, many were already questioning my decision to stay here for as long as I have. 

I took pride in never crying. I had tried not to ever cry unless it was for one of my movies. But I had learned from Michael that crying is just as important as laughing. And so I was crying now into the mirror. 

I heard a knock on the door and stood up straight, trying my best to sniffle and wipe away the tears before telling whoever was out there that I was coming out. 

I exited the bathroom hoping one of the house servants to be there instead of the children or Michael, but to my dismay it was Michael. His face scrunched up when he saw me, though I did my best to compose myself.