𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍 𝑱𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝑰𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔| 𝑽𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒆 1

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

Dangerous Era

Freak!

Wacko Jacko! 

Why does he look like a woman?

Child Molester!

It hurts every time he tries to have a nice day, but others don't understand the whole point in this case. Michael can't catch a break whenever he wants to forget about those false allegations.

It's been two years after Michael was found innocent after a child made up lies to claim that the singer sexually assaulted him. It wasn't true. Even when Michael was the top star in LA, the tabloids made it worse to see significant changes in him. 

Lisa didn't stay with him for as long as she should've. She left him. In her words that were in an interview, she called their marriage "irreconcilable differences." He was alone in the house, but that was when he met you...

It was raining a lot outside since it was spring season, and Michael sat in the living room reading as he heard someone enter the room. You just returned from shopping and came over to see him. 

"Hi, Michael! I'm back!" You said, sitting next to him as he set the book aside. 

"How was your shopping trip?" He asked. 

"I found some good stuff, and I think you'll love them too! I pick some stuff out for you too." You handed him a bag that you bought from Target. 

Michael looks into the clothes bags and says, "These are lovely." He smiled up at you. 

"I'm gonna make us some dinner." You get up to make a dish, but Michael places a hand on your shoulder to prevent you from moving. 

"You don't have to when we have the chefs to prepare it for us." Said Michael. 

"I can help the cooks, Michael." You said as you smiled a little. 

"Okay. I'm going to take a shower since I did rehearse a little today." He said, standing up from the couch to go upstairs to shower. 

~

You and the chefs prepared dinner while Michael was upstairs showering in your shared bedroom. When it was ready, you were worried about Michael for taking a long time showering. 

"Michael! Dinner's ready!" You shouted. 

No response.

You thought he couldn't hear you if the water were still running. You walked upstairs, entered the room connected to the bathroom, and made your way to the door. 

"Michael?" You knocked on the door and leaned closer. There was no water running in the room, and you could hear slight breathing going on in the room. 

"Mikey?" You called out, slowly standing behind the door. 

His sniffles were loud enough to hear as you slowly opened the door to reveal Michael on the ground crying with his face buried in his knees. 

"Go away." He croaked. 

You went over to kneel next to him. 

"Hey, what's the matter?" You asked. 

"I don't want to talk about it." He shook his head, not looking back at you as he cried. 

"Baby, you have to tell me what's wrong. I can't help you whatever is wrong." You spoke softly, petting his hair gently. 

He looked up at you with his eyes that were puffy and red, "I'm ugly." He said. You frown to hear that word slip out of his mouth. 

"Why would you say that?" You asked. 

"Don't you read the tabloids too? They would say mean and horrible things about me...not only would they make lies about me. The tabloids would judge me about my looks." He cried as he sniffled, letting out a few hiccups. 

You wrap your arms around his wet body after he takes his shower. 

"Michael, I don't understand. Why would you think that you're ugly?" You asked. 

"I look in the mirror and see the body of someone that isn't me. I don't like myself." He replied. 

"What's not to like when you are made who you are?" You said, looking down at him softly. "Looks don't matter to me, honey. You not ugly, be proud of yourself." He looked at you while he sniffled. 

"Be proud of me?" He asked. 

You nodded. 

"Do you love me even though...I look different?" He asked. 

"Of course I do! I love you because you are the same person you were born to enter this world." You reassured the young male sitting beside you, looking away from you shyly. 

"I love you too. I'm glad we're having this conversation." He said, wiping his eyes as you peck his cheek.

A/N: Looks don't matter.