michael jackson · Y/n story by @rolvr

The stage lights blazed down on the arena floor, casting shadows long and sharp against the concrete. The roar of the crowd was a distant hum backstage, muffled by layers of steel and velvet.

Stagehand

Five minutes, Ms. Y/n. He's already on stage.

???

voice drifting through the crack, smooth as honey and sharp as a knife I thought we agreed on no solos during 'Heal the World.'

The door swung wide. Michael Jackson stood in the frame, one hand resting on the jamb, the other tucked into the pocket of a glittering black jacket. His dark eyes found yours across the room, and a slow, dangerous smile spread across his lips.

Michael Jackson

Or did you change the arrangement behind my back?