Chapter Text
I sit on my couch, tears streaming down my cheeks as the reporter announces the sudden death of Michael Jackson. I can’t believe it. He’s really gone. It’s as if the world suddenly feels smaller—emptier somehow. Sniffling softly, I turn off the TV and stand, walking over to the door. I need some air.
I step outside, not even bothering to lock the door behind me. I wander aimlessly down the sidewalk, no destination in mind—and honestly, I don’t care. After walking for a while, with tears still glistening in my eyes, something catches my attention. Sunlight glints off a small object lying on the ground. I bend down to pick it up.
It’s a delicate charm bracelet, with tiny musical notes dangling from it. I frown, glancing around to see if anyone might have dropped it. But I’m alone. Completely alone. Shrugging, I clasp it around my wrist.
The moment it clicks shut, I feel a strange tug behind my navel—like something pulling me from the inside out. A wave of nausea hits, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
When I open them again, my stomach drops. This isn’t my neighborhood. I don’t know where I am… or when.
“Where the hell am I?” I whisper, glancing around as I begin walking slowly down a cracked sidewalk.
The place looks like a small town—run-down, with a strange stillness to it. My frown deepens as I notice something odd: every car I pass is an older model, from the fifties or sixties… yet they all look brand-new.
“When am I?!” I breathe, my heart pounding in my chest. None of this makes any sense.
I keep walking, unsure what the hell to do. I turn the corner, not even noticing the street sign that reads Jackson Street. I stop when I spot a little boy a short distance down the sidewalk, dancing and spinning in place. I cock my head, frowning slightly. I don’t know why, but something about him seems familiar—even though I can’t see his face.
I glance to the side and notice a small, white house that looks very familiar. My eyes narrow, and I look up at the street sign. When I realize where I am, I snap my gaze back to the little boy, his back still to me, as I stand frozen in shock.
“No fucking way…” I breathe, stunned. I squeeze my eyes shut for several seconds, then open them again—only to find I’m still standing here, apparently in Gary, Indiana, watching a little Michael fucking Jackson dancing on the sidewalk.
What the hell is going on?! I have to be having some kind of weird, grief-induced fever dream. This can’t possibly be real.
I take a deep, steadying breath—not that it helps much. My body trembles as I force myself to keep walking. But I stop again several feet away, not wanting to startle him.
I clear my throat, my mouth opening and closing a few times before I finally manage to speak.
“Um… ex-excuse me?” I call to him softly, smiling warmly.
He spins around to face me, peering up with that bright, big smile I know all too well. I bite my lip to hold back a giggle when I notice he’s missing a couple of teeth, which somehow makes him even cuter. I crouch down in front of him, trying to appear smaller and less intimidating. The last thing I wanted was to scare him.
“Hello!” he says brightly, then glances over my outfit and giggles.
I give him a confused but curious smile, cocking my head slightly.
“What’s so funny?” I ask with a grin, his smile already contagious.
He blushes and giggles softly, then shrugs.
“S-sorry, Miss. It’s just… your clothes—they look a little funny,” he explains.
I glance down at my sundress and wedge sandals, chuckling softly. I probably did look strange in modern fashion—especially to someone used to the styles of the sixties.
“I thought I’d try something different,” I reply, smiling back at him.
He giggles again, then holds out his hand.
“My name’s Michael. Michael Jackson. What’s your name, Miss?” he asks, as polite as ever—making my smile widen even more.
“It’s nice to meet you, Michael Jackson. I’m Kendra,” I say, chuckling and smiling warmly as I reach out to shake his little hand.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Miss Kendra,” Michael replies, making me giggle softly at the way he addresses me.
When we let go, I glance around before looking back at him.
“Michael, can you—can you tell me what day it is?” I ask, not entirely sure I want to know, even though I keep trying to convince myself that this is just a dream. It gets a lot harder to believe that when I shake his hand. I’ve never had a dream so vivid before—I could actually feel the warmth of his hand in mine. Still, I try to tell myself that a dream is the only possible explanation.
Michael cocks his head, chuckling as he gives me a confused smile.
“It’s July 20, 1968. Are you alright, Miss Kendra?”
My face must have gone a little pale. I sift through my memory, and the date jumps out at me. I force myself to keep a straight face as I realize this is three days before he and his brothers would audition for Motown. I smile warmly and nod, not wanting to freak him out.
“Yep, I’m just fine!” I reply—though inside, I’m freaking the fuck out. I push the panic down and stay crouched in front of him on the sidewalk.
“So, what are you doing out here all by yourself, sweetheart?”
“Well, my brothers and I—we’re in a group. And… and we have an audition with Motown in a few days. I’m real nervous, and… and I was just practicing. I don’t wanna mess up. If I mess up, Joseph will get mad at me,” he says, looking down as he scuffs his shoe against the sidewalk.
My jaw tenses at the mention of Joseph and his infamous anger. However, I play dumb, not wanting to let on that I know more than I should—I was a literal stranger to him, after all.
“O-Oh? Who’s—who’s Joseph?” I ask softly, my heart clenching at the fear and sadness written all over his little face.
“Oh, Joseph—Joseph is my father,” he replies quietly. “If I mess up the audition and we don’t make it, he’s gonna whoop me real bad.”
I feel bile rise in my throat at his words. How anyone could treat their own flesh and blood that way is beyond me. I swallow the lump forming, determined to give him the loving encouragement he should be able to count on from one of the people who’s supposed to love him the most.
“Well, how about you show me your moves? I bet you’re better than you realize,” I say gently. I smooth the back of my dress down as I kneel on the sidewalk and sit back on my haunches, giving him a warm smile and nodding encouragingly when he blushes and smiles bashfully.
I watch him, smiling softly as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When his eyes pop open again, it’s like a switch flips—and right in front of me, he transforms into that confident, smiling little boy who would one day perform on The Ed Sullivan Show and stun the world with a talent most adults could never even hope to possess.
I watch, stunned, as he sings and dances, executing every move, every spin with perfect precision. I can already see the traces of the perfectionist I know he’ll grow up to be. And even though I’ve always known how talented he was, seeing a nine-year-old Michael Jackson performing in person is a whole different level of surreal.
When he finishes and spins, stopping on a dime, he bows before standing up straight, catching his breath. I grin, clapping enthusiastically.
“That was amazing! You’re very talented, Michael!” I say, still beaming up at him proudly.
“Really?! Thanks, Miss Kendra!” he says, flashing me his gap-toothed smile.
“Really!” I reply, nodding. “I bet you a million bucks you’ll be a famous superstar one day!” I add, pressing my lips together to keep from laughing. He has no idea just how massively famous he’s going to be.
“Famous?! Wow…” Michael breathes, looking off into the distance like he’s caught in a daydream. Before I have the chance to reply, a woman’s voice calls for him from the house. He glances toward it, then looks back at me and smiles.
“That’s Mother. I better go,” he says.
I gasp softly as—without a second of hesitation—he steps closer and wraps his arms around my neck in a tight hug. I slowly bring my arms up to return it, holding him in a warm, loving embrace, smiling softly.
“Good luck at your audition, sweetheart. You’re gonna do great,” I say encouragingly, smiling as we part.
“Thanks, Miss Kendra. I’ll see ya later!” he says, giving me a shy smile before turning and running to the front door of his house. I smile as he opens the door, then turns to wave at me. I chuckle softly and wave back, watching as he disappears inside.
As soon as I'm alone again, I close my eyes and place a hand over my abdomen, feeling that same strange pull I’d felt before. In the blink of an eye, I vanish into thin air. I exhale sharply and open my eyes—only to find myself somewhere entirely new. A different place… and I could only assume, a different time. This was, without a doubt, the weirdest dream I’d ever had.
I start down the hallway of whatever establishment I’ve landed in. It doesn’t take long to realize—with a wave of disgust—that I’m inside a seedy strip joint, still somewhere in Gary. It must not have been too long since I’d seen Michael the first time. I knew he and his brothers had continued performing in places like this, even after their Motown audition... but thankfully, not for much longer.
I scan the room, my stomach churning when I spot him. He looks so small and confused, eyes wide as he stands amid a crowd of rowdy adult men who catcall the women onstage—some of whom are completely topless. I watch as he quietly slips away from his brothers and heads toward the exit. My heart aches.
Without wasting a second, I move around the perimeter of the room and follow after him.
I find him sitting behind a dumpster behind the run-down building, and I approach slowly, speaking gently.
“Hey there, sweetheart. You okay?” I ask, stopping a few feet away. Michael gasps softly and turns his head. His eyes widen when he recognizes me.
“Miss Kendra!” he says, smiling brightly as he rushes over. I kneel down, chuckling softly as he wraps his arms tightly around my neck. I return his hug, rubbing his back comfortingly.
“Hello, Michael,” I reply softly before we pull apart. I frown a little as I study his face—troubled in a way no little boy’s face ever should be. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”
Michael looks down at his feet, his expression filled with shame. He shrugs, muttering softly, “I don’t like performing in places like this. I know my mother wouldn’t like it. She would be so upset and ashamed.”
My heart breaks. I reach out and gently lift his chin so he has to look at me, my chest tightening at the sadness in his eyes.
“She wouldn’t be upset or ashamed of you, sweetheart,” I say softly. “She’d know it wasn’t your fault.”
It guts me to see him carrying guilt that was never his to bear. I’d always been disgusted by how Joseph raised his children—but seeing the effect it had on Michael in person? That anger hit differently.
His chin trembles, and tears threaten to spill from his eyes. “You promise?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I promise, honey,” I say softly, stroking his cheek with the backs of my fingers. “I’m sure your mother loves you very, very much. And there’s nothing you could ever do to make her stop.”
His sadness fades, replaced by the bright smile I know so well. I smile back and giggle softly as he hugs me again. I wrap him up in a warm, comforting embrace, wanting him to feel the love and support he was so clearly missing from Joseph.
Suddenly, the back door of the strip joint bangs open just around the corner—and we both freeze as Joseph’s voice cuts through the air, yelling for him.
“Michael! You out here?!” Joseph shouts, and my heart breaks when I feel Michael’s entire body go stiff in my arms.
“I—I better go before I get in trouble,” he whispers sadly. “I don’t wanna make Joseph mad.” I hated that I had to let him go, but I knew I did. I give him a sad smile and press a gentle kiss to his cheek.
“Alright, sweetheart. I’ll see you later, okay?” I whisper softly. Michael nods, giving me a small smile before he turns and walks around the corner.
“I told you to stay put. Get your ass inside before I get my belt, boy!” I hear Joseph growl, and my jaw clenches. It takes all my self-control to stay hidden. Someone needed to punch that bastard in the teeth and give him a taste of his own medicine one day.
I get to my feet, only to feel that strange sensation in my stomach again. I groan.
“Not again…” I mutter, just before that familiar wave of nausea hits me. I close my eyes, and in the blink of an eye, I vanish to another place—and time.
When I open my eyes, I look around, trying to get my bearings. I realize I’m in… a broom closet?
“What the hell?” I mutter, huffing as I trip over various mops, brooms, and other random objects in the dark. I nearly fall, sending a stack of “Wet Floor” signs clattering to the ground.
“Son of a—ugh!” I grumble, reaching around blindly for a door knob. When I finally find it, I twist and push the door open, practically spilling out and falling flat on my face.
“Miss… Miss Kendra?” I suddenly hear a familiar voice—confused, but also a bit amused. I look up, blushing and grimacing slightly. That instantly recognizable purple hat and vest leave no room for doubt. I’m clearly backstage at The Ed Sullivan Show in 1969, one of the first televised appearances of Michael's career.
“H-Hey, sweetheart,” I say, pushing myself up onto my hands and knees. Michael shakes himself out of his amused stupor and rushes over, offering me a hand. I smile and chuckle softly as I take it, letting him help me to my feet.
“Miss Kendra, what were you doing in a broom closet?” he asks, grinning and giggling.
My blush deepens and I smile sheepishly. “I’m not really sure,” I mutter.
His smile falters into a slightly confused frown, and I mentally kick myself. There was no way his eleven-year-old self could possibly understand the truth. Hell, I didn’t even understand it. I had convinced myself this was a dream—but the warmth of Michael’s hugs, the way I physically felt every single one—it all felt real. More real than any dream I’d ever had. Still, time travel? Come on. That was impossible… right?
Before he can ask anything else, I quickly steer the conversation. “Are you getting ready to perform?” I ask, crouching down to his level with a warm smile.
Thankfully, my question works. His eyes light up again, and he grins excitedly.
“Yeah! We’re performing on The Ed Sullivan Show! Can you believe it?!”
I chuckle softly, my heart melting at his enthusiasm.
“Of course I can! I told you you’d be a superstar one day!” I say, smiling back at him, just as proud. He blushes, giggling shyly as he ducks his head before looking back up at me, gasping.
“Miss Kendra, will you stay and watch the show?!” he asks, a hopeful smile lighting up his little face. I chuckle softly and nod—like I could ever say no to that face.
“I wouldn’t miss it, sweetheart,” I say, hoping I’ll actually be able to keep my word and not get yanked away to another place and time before the curtain rises.
We eventually hear Jackie calling for him, shouting that it’s time to go on. I smile and reach out, giving Michael’s hand an encouraging squeeze.
“Knock ’em dead, honey. You’re gonna do great,” I say, grinning when he does. I chuckle softly as he flings his arms around me in a quick hug before he turns and runs off to join his brothers.
I find a quiet corner backstage where I can watch without being seen. I watch in awe as, even at just eleven years old, Michael performs to perfection, pouring every ounce of energy into the stage like he was born for it. I beam with pride as the audience erupts in cheers when the boys bow. After a quick interview with Ed Sullivan, they disappear offstage.
I hurry back to where we met by the broom closet, heart fluttering as I hear him calling my name softly down the hall, careful not to attract attention.
“I’m here, Michael,” I say, stepping out into view. It wouldn’t do for one of his brothers—or worse, Joseph—to see me. Not here. Not now. If they saw me again at a different time, looking exactly the same and not having aged a day, how the hell would I even begin to explain myself?
Michael smiles, running over to me as I kneel down on the floor. “Did you see me, Miss Kendra?! Did you see?!”
I grin proudly, nodding as I take both his hands in mine, giving them a gentle squeeze. “I did see! I told you you’d be great!”
“Thanks, Miss Kendra,” Michael replies, giggling and grinning happily at my praise.
“You’re welcome, honey,” I say with a chuckle as he blushes. “How have you been?” I ask, hoping he’s doing alright with his newfound fame.
“I’m great! We were signed to Motown Records! We actually just released our first album two days ago!” he informs me excitedly.
“That’s amazing! I’m not surprised though. I can see how talented you are—and the people in the audience loved you!” I reply, full of pride.
We sit on the hallway floor, backs against the wall, chatting for a bit. Unfortunately, the inevitable happens, and we hear Jermaine’s voice calling from nearby.
“Oh! I gotta go! See you later, Miss Kendra!” Michael says quickly, hugging me before I even get the chance to return it, then takes off around the corner. I raise an amused brow, wondering why he was in such a hurry. I had no clue he was trying to protect me—the last thing he wanted was for any of his brothers to see me.
Left alone once more, I groan when I feel that now-familiar tug in the pit of my stomach. I close my eyes as I feel myself being transported to yet another place and time.
I carefully make my way through the halls of whatever building I’ve just popped into, hoping I’ll find Michael somewhere. Whatever strange dream this was, it clearly revolved around him. I breathe a sigh of relief when I turn a corner and see him standing there, looking both nervous and excited.
I study him, recognizing the outfit—black pants, a white dress shirt, and a red sweater vest. I smile, realizing it’s 1973. He’s about to perform “Ben” at the Academy Awards.
“Hey there, sweetheart,” I say as I come up and tap him on the shoulder. I grin as he quickly spins around, eyes wide with surprise as he gasps.
“Miss Kendra?! What are you doing here?!” he asks with a happy laugh, stepping forward and hugging my waist. He’s quite a bit taller than the last time I saw him—though for me, it was mere seconds ago. I smile, somewhat sadly, as I return his tight hug, realizing it’s been a few years for him.
“Look at you! A teenager now!” I say, grinning while subtly sidestepping his question. My grin softens, and I tilt my head curiously as he blushes and looks away, scratching the back of his neck. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he seemed nervous.
“W-Well, it—it has been a few y-years…” Michael replies with a shy chuckle.
“That’s true,” I say with a nod. “And I’m sorry about that. How have you been?”
Michael moves to sit on the floor with his back against the wall. I smooth down the back of my dress and carefully lower myself beside him as he shrugs.
“I’m fine. It’s just… a lot sometimes, you know?” he says softly, looking down at his hands resting in his lap. “My whole life I was just a poor kid from Gary, Indiana. Now we’re living in California, in a huge house, brand new cars, more money than we’ve ever had. But I can’t even relax. There’s no time for fun. If we’re not onstage performing, we’re practicing for the next one. And I can’t go anywhere without being mobbed.” He sighs, glancing at me with a small, grimacing smile.
I tilt my head, frowning slightly in concern. “What is it, Michael?” I ask gently.
“I just… I feel ungrateful, complaining when we’ve been so successful,” he explains softly.
I shake my head. “Michael, you have every right to want a normal childhood. That doesn’t make you ungrateful—it makes you human. You’ve been thrown, pretty suddenly, into this whole new life. That’s a lot for anyone to handle, let alone someone your age,” I say softly, reaching over to gently squeeze his hand.
“Thanks for being here, Miss Kendra,” Michael replies. I smile as he leans his head on my shoulder.
“I’ll be here whenever I can,” I say softly, resting my cheek against the top of his head.
After a while, we get up, knowing he’ll have to perform soon. I walk with him to the main backstage area. I find a quiet spot to watch without being seen, and smile, giving him a thumbs up when he looks back at me one last time before heading to the stage.
I watch as he performs, smiling as proud as ever.
I’m already there waiting when he returns, and I smile, reaching out to clutch his arms as he walks up to me before pulling him into a tight hug.
“You were great out there!” I say, grinning. I notice him blushing and smiling bashfully when I pull back, and I tilt my head slightly, curious—but I brush it off, thinking nothing of it as we chat for a little while.
Eventually, it’s time for him to go. Just like before, I feel that all-too-familiar tug in my stomach, and once again I slip away to another place and time.
When I materialize, I glance around to get my bearings. I realize I’m on the rooftop of a building. It’s nighttime, the New York City skyline gleaming in the dark like a million diamonds scattered across velvet. A soft breeze ruffles my hair. I turn and see him—Michael—standing hunched over, arms resting on the railing as he silently gazes at the people walking far below.
He looks older now. Sixteen, maybe.
I take a few steps closer, my voice soft. “Hello, Michael.”
I expect to startle him, but instead I’m the one startled when he gasps sharply, immediately recognizing my voice. He whirls around, his eyes wide, then breaks into a happy, disbelieving grin.
“K-Kendra?! How—What are you doing here?!” he breathes, laughing as he sweeps me into a hug. He’s much taller now, towering over me as I giggle and hug him back just as tightly, rising onto my tiptoes to reach him.
“Wow, look at you! You’ve gone and grown up on me,” I tease, still sidestepping the question he always asks.
“Y-Yeah, I-I guess I did,” Michael says with a shy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as he glances down at his feet.
I laugh softly at his bashfulness, still completely unaware of the reason behind it. But then I catch something in his eyes. They’re glassy—just a little. My smile fades and I gently cup his cheek, searching his expression with concern.
“Michael? Are you alright?”
He closes his eyes for a moment and leans into my touch, just slightly. But then he seems to catch himself, his eyes fluttering open as he blushes and turns away, looking back out over the city.
“Would you think I was crazy if I said I was jealous of all those people down there?” he asks quietly, gesturing to the crowd below.
“What do you mean, sweetheart?” I ask softly, glancing down at the street before turning my gaze back to him, studying his face.
“Everyone down there is free,” he says, his voice quiet. “They can go wherever they want. Do whatever they want. I know my brothers and I are lucky to have our success—and I am grateful, really—but… sometimes I just want to walk around and have no one even notice me. I love performing, but I can’t help wishing I was just like everybody else.”
I smile sadly, stepping up beside him and leaning over the railing as we both watch the people bustling below.
“I know, Michael,” I reply gently. “But I’ve told you before—you have every right to feel that way. I can’t imagine what it’s like, not being able to do simple things like grocery shopping, going to the movies, or just taking a walk around the city. Those little, everyday things… the rest of us take them for granted.”
“Thanks, Kendra. I’m glad you’re here,” he murmurs, glancing over at me with a soft smile before he blushes and looks away again. I watch him as he quietly observes the crowd, the sadness still lingering in his eyes.
“Wait here, okay? I’ll be right back,” I say with a mischievous smile.
“Oookay…” he replies with a confused laugh, raising a brow as I dash for the door.
I make my way down through the building and out of the hotel, heart pounding. I find a nearby shop and hope they don’t look too closely at the bills I hand over. The last thing I needed was someone questioning why my money was dated with a year that hadn’t even happened yet.
About twenty minutes later, I return to the rooftop, breathing heavily from the run. The whole way back, I’d been terrified I’d vanish again, leaving Michael behind to wonder if I’d just disappeared for good. But when I reach the top, there he is—still standing by the railing. Relief washes over me as I approach, plastic shopping bag in hand.
Michael turns as I arrive, watching me with curious amusement. I pull out a tube of hair gel, a black fedora, and a pair of thick black-rimmed reading glasses.
“Sit down,” I urge him, waving him over. “You’re too tall now—I can’t reach!”
He laughs but does as I ask, settling down in front of me while still eyeing the items with a puzzled look.
“Uh… Kendra? What are you doing?” he asks, laughter in his voice.
“Shh. Just trust me,” I say playfully, making him giggle.
He goes quiet, letting me work as I squeeze a bit of gel into my palm and begin smoothing down his hair. It ends up a little messy—but it’ll do. Next, I slip the glasses onto his face and adjust the fedora over his head until it’s just right.
“Oh! I almost forgot!” I say, grinning as I pull out the final piece: a fake mustache.
He grins, realizing what I’m up to, and I giggle as I stick it to his upper lip and adjust it until it’s sitting perfectly.
“There! Now you’re ready,” I announce proudly, offering him both hands to help him up.
He takes my hands, and I help pull him to his feet. He raises a brow, smirking down at me.
“Uh… ready for what, exactly?”
“To go down there, silly! Come on!” I laugh, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the door.
Michael’s eyes widen, and he pulls back slightly, shaking his head quickly. “Wh-what?! K-Kendra, no. I can’t go down there!” he stammers, his voice full of panic.
I stop and turn to him, my expression softening. “Michael, you’ll be fine. I promise. Besides, you don’t look anything like Michael Jackson,” I say with a smirk.
“Really? How… how do I look?” he asks, reaching up to adjust the fake mustache with a wary glance.
“Absolutely ridiculous,” I say with a giggle. “Now let’s go!”
We both laugh, the sound echoing with excitement as we make our way downstairs and out of the hotel. Hand in hand, we weave through the sea of people, every one of them completely unaware that a world-famous celebrity is walking among them.
I glance over at Michael, and my heart swells as I watch him take it all in—his eyes wide, a huge smile on his face. He looks like a kid in a candy store, utterly enchanted. All around us, the city buzzes with life, and not a single person knows who’s walking beside me.
Michael looks free. He looks happy. The weight in his eyes from earlier is gone.
As though whatever mysterious force had brought me here knew Michael needed this, I’m given more time than ever before. All the other times I’d come to him had only lasted moments. But this time, we’re given hours.
We explore the city together, window shopping, laughing, pointing things out to each other. We buy a couple of hot dogs from a street vendor and sit on a nearby bench, eating and talking without a single fan interrupting. For once, he gets to feel normal—even if it’s only temporary. We even find a nearby park and end up on the swings, sitting side by side, gently swaying as we talk about anything and everything.
Eventually, we head back to the hotel. Sneaking around Bill turns into a whole operation, and we both nearly choke trying not to laugh when we finally slip into Michael’s room unnoticed. I plop down on the edge of the bed, watching as he takes off the fedora and sets it on a nearby table. I grin, giggling softly at the absolute disaster I’d made of his hair.
He comes over and sits next to me, and I turn to look at him. I try to press my lips together, but I can’t hold it in—I laugh. The fake mustache is still stuck to his upper lip.
“What’s so funny?” Michael asks, giggling with me as I point at his face.
“O-oh! R-right…” he chuckles, realizing why I’m laughing. He peels off the mustache and sets it aside. “I’m gonna go clean up real quick. Don’t go anywhere!” he says, and disappears into the bathroom.
I stay on the bed, smiling softly to myself as I wait. A few minutes later, he reappears. His hair is no longer weighed down by hair gel, free and soft again. He looks more like himself.
“Much better,” Michael says with a laugh as he comes over and sits beside me again.
“Did you have fun?” I ask, my grin softening.
“I did. That’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Thank you, Kendra,” he says quietly, his dark eyes holding mine.
“You’re welcome, Michael. I’m glad you had f—”
Before I can finish, he suddenly leans in and kisses me.
My eyes widen. I sit frozen, stunned. After a few seconds, he pulls back, realizing I’m not kissing him back. His face flushes with color as he looks away, clearly embarrassed.
“I-I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t— I shouldn’t have done that without— without asking. Oh God, please don’t hate me!” Michael says, his words tumbling out quickly as he panics slightly. My eyes widen in alarm and I reach out, squeezing his hand as I try to calm him down.
“Michael, it’s okay,” I say, ducking my head, trying to make him look me in the eye. “Michael, please look at me,” I plead softly as he keeps his head turned, tears in his eyes. He swallows nervously and slowly turns his head to look at me.
“Y-You’re not mad at me?” Michael asks, his voice quiet and somewhat scared. I frown deeply and shake my head, my hand still holding his.
“Of course not. Michael, listen to me,” I say gently, turning my body to face him fully as we sit across from each other on the foot of the bed. “I’m not— I’m not rejecting you. I need you to understand that. It’s just— You’re only sixteen, and I’m an adult. It would be wrong of me to take advantage of you like that. I’m trying to protect you. Do you understand?”
“I—I do,” Michael says, giving me a small, sheepish smile, still blushing. “I’m sorry I kissed you without permission. I just— I’ve had a crush on you for a long time and I just… Yeah.” He says, looking away and chuckling awkwardly as he rubs the back of his neck out of nervous habit.
“R-Really?” I ask, surprised. All those times he had blushed around me, I had simply chalked it up to shyness. Never in a million years could I fathom that he would feel that way. Our eyes meet and it’s my turn to blush, and I smile shyly, looking away. I bite my lip before I look back at him. “Well… When you’re older, if you still— if you still feel that way—“
“I won’t change my mind,” he says before I can even finish my sentence, making my shy smile widen to a grin as I look away, giggling softly.
We sit and talk for a while, but we’re interrupted when we hear the sound of someone unlocking the door of the suite. I frown as Michael’s eyes widen when he hears his brothers’ voices.
“Hide! You have to hide!” Michael whispers as he quickly stands, tugging me to my feet. He practically pushes me into a nearby closet as I continue to frown in confusion at his sudden panic.
“Michael, what’s the matter?” I ask, wondering why the hell he had me standing in a coat closet.
“My brothers can’t see you. If they see you, they’ll try— Just… My brothers are pigs when it comes to women. I know they’d try something if they see you. I can’t— I won’t let that happen. Just stay quiet until I get them to leave, okay?” He asks, his dark, warm eyes pleading.
“Alright,” I reply softly, nodding, not wanting to upset him further—though I’m touched by his effort to protect me. I sigh gently as he closes the door, leaving me in the pitch-black coat closet.
Not even a second later, the bedroom door opens. I hear Jermaine and Tito walk in, talking and laughing about the girls they’d met at their concert the night before—girls who, apparently, are now waiting downstairs in the lobby. I frown in distaste as their less-than-gentlemanly conversation continues right outside the closet, going into disturbing detail about what they plan to do to those poor girls later.
“Ugh. Gross,” I whisper under my breath, floored—once again—that Michael grew up to be such a gentleman despite being surrounded by the world’s worst male role models.
Meanwhile, Michael has quickly taken a seat back on his bed, grabbing a book off the nightstand and flipping it open, pretending like he’s been there reading the whole time. Jermaine and Tito glance over at him and roll their eyes, clearly not surprised.
“You’re gonna miss out on a lot of hot, easy tail, Mike,” Jermaine says, smirking as he shares a chuckle with Tito. I cringe from my hiding place, absolutely disgusted by their smug tone.
“Nah, I’m good,” Michael mumbles absently, eyes still on the page. He’s trying to seem casual, but I can feel how tense he is, praying neither of them decides to open the closet.
“Man, you need to loosen up,” Tito says, nudging Michael’s arm as he walks past. “Go out, meet a pretty girl, and get yourself some.”
I gag silently in the dark, hearing how his brothers are essentially encouraging him to be a total sleaze.
“No thanks,” Michael murmurs again, still focused on pretending to read—though I’m certain he hasn’t registered a single word on the page.
“C’mon, man,” Jermaine tries one more time. “We got some hotties waiting downstairs. Why don’t you come with us?”
“I said I’m good,” Michael says a little more firmly, still not looking up. “More poor, naïve girls for you guys, alright?”
I smirk in the darkness, proud of the subtle bite in his reply.
“Whatever, man. Let’s go,” Tito says, and he and Jermaine roll their eyes before finally leaving the room.
Michael quickly gets up and peeks out the door, watching until he sees for himself that they’ve left the suite. He returns and opens the closet door, giving me a sheepish smile.
“Sorry about that,” he says softly, blushing, knowing I must have heard everything. I step out and reach for his hand, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
“It’s alright,” I reply quietly, meeting his eyes as he continues to blush, embarrassed. “I know you’re nothing like them, Michael.”
“I’ll never be like them,” he says, shaking his head, his frown betraying how much their behavior truly bothers him. “Mother would be heartbroken if she knew how my brothers—and Joseph—act when we’re on the road.”
I smile sadly and rise onto my toes to wrap my arms around him, holding him close.
“Well, she’d be proud to know you’ve remained a gentleman. You’re not responsible for their behavior,” I say softly, then slowly pull back.
We sit down on the bed again, talking easily—just getting to know each other more. I still can’t believe how much time I’m being allowed to spend with him. But as soon as that thought crosses my mind, I feel it.
That familiar, dreadful pull deep in my stomach.
“M-Michael,” I say quickly, my voice hitching as panic edges in. “There’s—there’s something I need to tell you.”
His brow furrows instantly. “O-Okay… What is it?” he asks, concerned by the sudden shift in my tone.
“This is going to sound crazy,” I warn, my eyes locked on his. “But I swear, I’m telling the truth.”
He nods slowly, eyes narrowed slightly as he listens.
“Michael, I—I’m not from here,” I start, shaking my head, trying to make sense of what I’m saying before the words even leave me. “I mean I’m not from this… time.”
I cringe as I see him lean back a little, clearly unsure now. Like he’s trying to distance himself from the crazy girl sitting on his bed.
“Wh-What do you mean?” he asks, inching back slightly, confusion written all over his face. My heart clenches painfully at the look.
“I’m—” I start, but stop myself, needing a second to breathe. “I’m from 2009. And I know that sounds insane, but it’s true!”
“2-2009? What are you talking about, Kendra?” he asks, frowning deeply as he stands from the bed, looking a little scared of me. I hate seeing him look at me like that, but I can’t exactly blame him. I must sound like a raving lunatic.
“Yes. I don’t know how I keep coming to you like this, but that’s where I’m from. I’m just as freaked out as you are about this,” I say, though that might not have been entirely true—not if the way he keeps backing away from me is any indication. “Please believe me! I would never lie to you, Michael, ever. I—”
But my words are cut off as I suddenly vanish before his eyes.
Tears of frustration fill my eyes as I reappear in yet another place and time. I hate that I left him like that—scared and confused. I never wanted him to look at me that way. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. Then I open them and glance around, trying to figure out when and where I am now.
It doesn’t take long to realize I’m in an apartment. I walk to the window and see that I’m still in New York. I wander around the large living room until I spot a newspaper discarded on the coffee table. I pick it up and look at the date.
“September 3, 1977,” I murmur.
Between the date and the fact that I’m in an apartment in New York City, I quickly conclude that Michael must be in the middle of filming The Wiz.
I find what I assume to be his room and sit at the foot of the bed, waiting patiently. If whatever force is behind all of this brought me here, then this must be where I’m meant to be.
It doesn’t take long before I hear the apartment door open and close. Muffled footsteps approach, and then Michael rounds the corner into the bedroom—only to stop dead in his tracks when he sees me sitting on his bed. His eyes widen in shock.
“Kendra!” he breathes, snapping himself out of his stupor.
My eyes widen slightly as he rushes over and pulls me to my feet, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug. His voice is muffled against my shoulder.
“I thought I was going crazy. I thought—thought this whole time you were a figment of my imagination. Something my mind made up because I was so lonely. But then… then I started to wonder if you were a ghost, or an angel.”
I blush at his last words, chuckling softly as I hug him back just as tightly.
“I’m afraid not. I’m very much alive and very much human,” I reply with a grin, still holding him close. One of my hands comes up to cradle the back of his head as he continues to cling to me tightly.
“I—I missed you,” he says softly, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. His dark gaze searches mine, and I smile shyly, blushing under his steady look.
“Well, I’m here now,” I reply just as softly.
Michael continues to hold my gaze, then suddenly leans in, closing his eyes as his lips meet mine. I gasp, frozen for a moment in surprise—but then I melt into the kiss, closing my eyes as I return it. My hand slides from the back of his head to his cheek, and then the other joins it, gently cradling his face between my palms.
Sensing his inexperience, I slow the pace, my thumbs brushing soothing circles against his cheeks. He responds, his lips beginning to move more confidently over mine, quickly finding the rhythm. I gasp again when his arm tightens around my waist and his other hand cups the back of my head, tilting it slightly. The parting of my lips invites him in, and I moan softly as his tongue brushes against mine. My fingers slip into his curls, and I rise on my tiptoes as he pulls me flush against him.
We kiss deeply, passionately, until the need for air pulls us apart. When he finally breaks the kiss, I open my eyes—dazed and breathless—to find him already watching me.
“I told you I wouldn’t change my mind,” Michael murmurs with a soft, almost smug smile, brushing the backs of his fingers across my cheek. I blush again, grinning shyly as I close my eyes and sigh, leaning into his touch.
“I—I guess not,” I whisper, giggling softly, my thumb now stroking his cheek as we stand there wrapped in each other’s arms.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he says, his eyes roaming my face with quiet awe.
I blush under his gaze, ducking my head slightly with a shy smile before leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. Then we both sit down on the bed, still hand in hand, his fingers gently playing with mine. I glance at him, still a little breathless, unable to stop the small smile that keeps tugging at my lips.
“So, how have you been? What are you up to?” I ask, wanting to make sure he was doing okay.
“I’ve been good. I’m actually filming The Wiz right now!” Michael says, grinning brightly. “I’ve always wanted to get into movies, so I’m having a lot of fun.”
I smile, glad to see him so happy. “I thought you might be,” I say with a knowing look.
Michael chuckles. “That’s right… I guess you already know all this stuff,” he says, referencing the last time we saw each other—when I’d told him I was from the future. “I, um… I have to admit, I kind of thought you were crazy, but… when you vanished right in front of me…”
“I can’t blame you,” I say with a soft laugh. “I would’ve thought I was crazy too.”
We both laugh, and the conversation flows easily after that. I tell him about my life—my family, where I’m from, the things I love. It feels good to share it all with him, like we’re making up for lost time.
“You know, you’re technically older than me,” I say with a grin. “I won’t be born until 1987.”
Michael laughs, eyes widening a little. “This is so weird and confusing,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
I laugh with him, nodding. “Yes, it is. One minute I’m just out for a walk in my neighborhood in L.A., and the next I’m in Gary, Indiana, meeting a little Michael Jackson. This has been a… very, very weird day.”
Michael smiles gently, his thumb brushing over mine as we continue to hold hands.
“Well, I’m glad it happened,” he says softly. “I know we haven’t had a lot of time together, but… you mean a lot to me, Kendra.”
“You mean a lot to me too, Michael,” I reply just as softly. My stomach flips at the thought that, whatever force brought me here, I could only hope it was enough to change something—enough to save him.
The weight of what I know about his future presses on me. It’s not something I’m ready to share—not yet. He’s only nineteen. Still so young, too young to carry something like that. No one should have to know their time will be unfairly short. Not when they’ve barely had a chance to live.
My eyes flutter open a moment later to find myself in a dimly lit recording studio. I look around, heart still racing, and spot Michael sitting at the soundboard. The warm, retro tones of the room and the faint thrum of music tell me it must be sometime in 1979—he’s likely working on Off the Wall.
I smile, watching him from a distance as he bobs his head to the beat, tweaking knobs with nimble fingers. But then he stills. He sits up straight, eyes closed, and takes a deep breath.
“For fuck’s sake,” he murmurs, hands coming up to rub his face.
I blink, startled to hear him curse—but before I can even wonder why, he explains without realizing it.
“I can smell her perfume. God, I’m going crazy,” he groans softly, then sighs and leans back in the chair.
I bite my lip, suppressing a giggle, and step forward. Gently, I touch his shoulder.
“I’m here, Michael,” I say softly.
In a flash, he’s out of his seat, pulling me into his arms. I barely manage a squeak before his lips crash onto mine, urgent and hungry.
I moan into his mouth as his tongue sweeps into mine, coaxing and stroking. He walks me backward until my back hits the nearest wall, his hands roaming—first at my hips, then gliding up my sides before cupping my face with such tenderness it nearly breaks me.
Minutes pass in a blur of breathless kisses before he pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against mine. We’re both panting, our breaths mingling in the warm space between us.
“I don’t want to waste another second,” he whispers.
His voice is low, rougher than usual, thick with emotion and something more. Desire burns in his eyes—deeper, darker than I’ve ever seen.
“I want you, baby. Can I have you?”
His hand slips down to my thigh, his fingers teasing just beneath the hem of my dress. His lips trail along my jaw, then down to the curve of my neck, until they find that sensitive spot just beneath my ear. I gasp, moaning softly as heat blooms low in my belly.
“Y-Yes… God, yes,” I whisper breathlessly, my body trembling with anticipation.
Michael lets out a soft moan of relief at my reply. His hands move to the backs of my thighs, gripping firmly as he lifts me with ease. I gasp, instinctively wrapping my legs around his waist, his hands sliding beneath my dress to hold me close.
He carries me away from the wall, across the room, and gently lays me down on a nearby couch. His eyes stay locked on mine as he kneels in front of me, reaching for my ankles. One by one, he removes my sandals, his fingers brushing softly against my skin. I draw in a shaky breath, my body already humming at his touch.
His hands slowly trail up my calves, then higher, palming my thighs with a quiet groan. I bite my lip, my heart pounding as he pushes my dress higher. He pauses, meeting my gaze for permission. I nod, lifting my arms. Gently, he pulls the dress up and over my head, tossing it aside with a soft moan as his eyes take me in.
I lie before him in just my bra and panties, my breath catching at the look in his eyes. He leans in to kiss me, slow and deep, while his hands explore my curves with aching tenderness. I moan into his mouth, my hand tangling in his hair as his lips begin a slow trail down my neck.
I gasp when his hands slip beneath me to undo my bra. As he unclasps it and pulls it away, the cool air kisses my bare skin, sending a shiver through me. My nipples harden instantly, and I moan softly when his lips begin their path down my chest. My eyes flutter shut, lips parting as his mouth closes around my right nipple, warm and wet. My fingers slide through his curls as he sucks gently, then kisses across to give my left breast the same attention.
His hands never stop moving, stroking my thighs in a way that leaves me aching. When he finally lifts his head, his eyes meet mine as his thumbs hook into the waistband of my panties.
“Can I take these off now, baby?” he asks, teasing them down slightly.
I blush, my breath catching. But I nod, holding his gaze. He exhales softly, like he’s been holding his breath, and slowly pulls them down my legs, tossing them aside with the rest of my clothes.
I lie there, completely bare beneath him, my cheeks flushed and my heart racing. His eyes drink me in, dark and reverent as they sweep over every inch of me.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispers, his hands gliding along my curves like he’s afraid to wake from a dream.
I whimper softly, overwhelmed by the way he’s looking at me. I bite my lip and close my eyes, a soft moan escaping as he cups my breasts again, his thumbs grazing over the sensitive peaks. He leans down to kiss me deeply, then trails his mouth back to my neck, making me melt beneath him.
Michael’s lips travel slowly down my body, his tongue darting out to taste my skin. My lips part on a soft moan as he palms my breasts, licking and sucking at my nipples once more before trailing lower. I lift my head, watching him through half-lidded eyes as his dark gaze meets mine, his lips brushing over my stomach. My abs clench when his tongue dips into my belly button, drawing another soft gasp from my lips. He nips playfully at my hips before gently spreading my thighs apart.
“M-Michael? W-What are you doing?” I whisper, my voice trembling as my face flushes with heat. He shifts onto his stomach, draping my thighs over his shoulders. That teasing little smirk tugs at his lips as his large hands smooth over my thighs, calming and possessive all at once.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he murmurs with a mischievous glint in his eyes before his mouth begins to explore my inner thighs, kissing, licking, and grazing his teeth along my skin.
I moan despite myself, even as my cheeks burn. The gentle way he holds me, the hunger in his eyes, the reverence in his touch—it’s too much, and not enough all at once.
“M-Michael, you don’t… you don’t have to do that,” I whisper breathlessly, my hips twitching as the heat between my legs builds quickly under his touch.
He looks up at me, one brow lifted, lips curved into a soft smirk. “Believe me, baby… I want to.”
That simple sentence, spoken with so much warmth and intent, sends a tremor through me. I melt back into the couch, letting my eyes flutter closed as he continues his slow, torturous descent.
His lips and tongue explore every inch of my thighs, teasing closer and closer until I’m trembling. My breath comes in shallow little gasps, my body already begging for more as he avoids exactly where I need him most. I whimper, my hips squirming, my skin flushed and slick with anticipation.
“M-Michael… please,” I finally moan, my voice cracking with need.
He chuckles softly, the sound low and delicious, and then—finally—his mouth moves lower. His hot, wet tongue slides slowly up the length of my slit, making me gasp out loud. When he reaches my clit and wraps his lips around it, sucking firmly, I cry out, my fingers digging into the cushions as pleasure rockets through me. His tongue flicks and swirls with purpose, teasing and stroking as he holds me in place, utterly at his mercy.
My hands fly to his head, fingers threading through his hair as a long moan escapes me. He releases my clit only to move lower, circling my entrance with slow, teasing strokes of his tongue.
My back arches and my head falls back as he suddenly plunges his tongue inside me.
“F-Fuck!” I cry out, my hips beginning to roll against his face as he devours me.
Michael growls low in approval, pressing his face deeper into my slick folds. His grip tightens on my thighs as he sucks at my entrance with hungry abandon. My head tilts back further, eyes fluttering shut as my moans grow louder, higher. The pleasure builds fast and sharp in my core, stealing the breath from my lungs.
“M-Michael? W-What’s happening to m-me?” I whimper helplessly, overcome by the intense heat flooding through me.
He lifts his head just enough to meet my eyes, his dark gaze smoldering with desire. My slick glistens on his lips and chin.
“You’re about to come, baby girl. Just let go,” he murmurs, before diving back in with renewed intensity.
I gasp, panting heavily as the sensation grows impossibly stronger. He laps at me with hungry, rhythmic strokes, and my whole body begins to tremble.
“Oh God… Michael!” I cry, my back arching off the couch as my climax crashes over me. I shake with the force of it, moaning his name as waves of pleasure ripple through me, wetness spilling over his tongue.
“F-Fuck! Oh—yes! Michael!” I sob, my voice echoing off the walls as he continues to lick me through it, swallowing every drop with quiet moans of satisfaction.
My limbs go limp, my chest heaving as I melt into the cushions, dazed and breathless. My fingers gently comb through his curls, one hand drifting to his cheek, my thumb brushing over his warm skin.
When he finally rises, he presses a soft kiss to my palm, then begins to crawl up my body, his lips trailing along the way. His hand cups my face as he leans down, kissing me deeply. I moan into his mouth, tasting myself on his tongue.
He lowers himself on top of me, our bodies flush. I gasp into the kiss as I feel the hard press of his arousal against my soaked folds, heat flaring between us all over again.
Michael pulls back before getting to his feet. He slips off his shoes and socks before he begins to unbutton his shirt. His intense gaze doesn’t leave mine as I lie on the couch, panting softly. My eyes follow his movements—his fingers slowly unbuttoning his shirt before he pulls it off, letting it fall to the floor. I whimper softly, and my eyes dart down as his hands move to unbuckle his belt. He undoes his pants, letting them fall to pool around his feet, his foot pushing them aside. His boxers quickly follow, and I moan softly, taking in his body for the first time—completely in awe of him.
Michael moves back over me on the couch, his hand stroking my cheek as he captures my lips. I moan into the kiss as he lies on top of me once more, a shiver of pleasure rushing through me as our bare skin touches. His hand moves to grip my thigh, pulling it up to wrap around his waist as he grinds his hard cock against my wet pussy.
“Are you ready, baby?” he whispers against my lips, his eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation.
“Y-Yes,” I whisper, peering back at him as my hand strokes his cheek. I had no doubts in this moment. I knew—he’s the only man I could ever want.
Michael moans at my reply and crashes his lips over mine. I whimper as his hand cups the back of my head, his other hand reaching down to grip his rigid shaft. He teases my slick folds with the swollen head of his cock, quickly becoming drenched in my arousal. Then, slowly, he guides himself to my tight, virgin entrance. He parts from my lips, opening his eyes to look into mine as he begins to push inside. I whimper, wincing slightly as he takes my virginity—but the pain is brief, and soon overwhelmed by the feeling of being completely filled.
I moan as he sinks deeper, stretching my walls around his length. My arms wrap around his neck, my legs lifting to hook around his waist, ankles locking behind him.
“Fuck! You feel so good, baby. So tight,” Michael groans, his voice rough and shaky. He goes still, only halfway inside, pressing his forehead to my shoulder. His chest rises and falls with deep, ragged breaths. He’s trying to hold on—trying not to lose himself too fast.
“S-So do you, Michael. So good,” I moan softly in his ear, my hand coming up to stroke the back of his head, fingers combing gently through his hair.
He continues to cradle the back of my head, his other hand gripping my thigh tighter, hiking it higher around his waist. He pulls back, only to slowly thrust into me again, giving me more and more of his length with every stroke. My eyes roll back—I've never felt so full. I bury my face in his neck, my moans and cries of pleasure muffled as I cling to him.
After several slow, deep thrusts, he finally sinks most of his length inside me. My mouth falls open in a deep, broken groan of pained pleasure—it feels like he’s in my stomach, he’s so deep.
Michael kisses and licks at my neck, nipping at my pulse before sucking hard on my skin, leaving his mark behind. I pant into his ear, my body trembling beneath him as he stays buried deep and begins to roll his hips. His long, thick cock strokes every inch of my tight walls, and I blush at the loud, wet sounds our bodies make.
“Mmm, you’re so wet, baby. Does this feel good?” he murmurs, lifting his head to gaze down at me, his eyes dark and intense.
I moan, whining helplessly as I nod quickly, my voice catching.
“Y-Yes! Please don’t—don’t stop!” I beg through a low, trembling moan, feeling my pussy start to pulse around him.
“I won’t stop, baby. Not until you come for me,” he promises, his voice like velvet. He nuzzles my jawline before capturing my lips in a deep, consuming kiss.
I whimper at his words, my clit throbbing with need as I near the edge. My legs tighten around him, my fingers tangling in his hair as I instinctively meet his thrusts, rolling my hips to meet his. The new angle makes him sink even deeper—and it’s more than I can take.
I go still beneath him, crying out as my walls clench, spasming around his cock.
“MICHAEL!” I shout his name as I cum hard, my juices flooding over him. My skin flushes, my toes curl, and wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me.
Michael moans loudly, his body shuddering as my tight walls grip him so hard he can barely move. When I finally relax beneath him, panting and trembling, he begins to thrust harder, faster, chasing his own release. His movements become erratic, his thrusts uneven as he teeters on the edge.
I peer up at him through hooded eyes, stroking his cheek as I whisper breathily, “Come in—inside me, Michael. Please, baby. Come inside me.”
He groans, loud and desperate at my words, and his hips stutter as he gives in to the overwhelming pleasure.
Michael gives me several more hard, quick thrusts before he holds himself deep inside me and comes, filling my pussy with his thick, warm seed. I moan softly, pulling him into a slow, languid kiss, a soft whimper escaping me as I feel his release begin to drip out of me and onto the cushion beneath us.
We lie together in the dimly lit studio, our bodies slick with a light sheen of sweat, our legs tangled. My fingers trace aimless patterns on his chest as his hands gently stroke my back. I close my eyes, feeling completely at peace, until I feel his lips press a sweet kiss to my forehead. His hand lifts to cup my cheek, tilting my face up to his. I search his eyes, breath catching as I reach up to stroke his cheek.
“What is it, Michael?” I whisper, my voice soft and curious, his intense gaze never leaving mine.
“I… I love you, Kendra,” he whispers, his voice barely audible—but it sinks deep into my chest, stealing my breath. My heart stutters, and tears well in my eyes. A trembling smile curves my lips as my fingers gently explore the beautiful features of his face.
“I love you, too, Michael,” I whisper in reply, pulling him down into another kiss.
We lie there on the couch, tangled in each other’s arms, still riding the afterglow of our first time together. And even in the quiet, even in the stillness, I knew—without a single doubt—I was exactly where I was meant to be. I was risking unimaginable heartbreak, letting myself fall in love with him… but there was no stopping it. My heart was his, completely. Forever.
And I never wanted it back.