Manhattan, New York. 12:30 PM.
The morning of the interview arrived wrapped in the kind of gray Manhattan light that made everything look cinematic without meaning to. From the enormous windows of Y/N's hotel room, the city looked softened around the edges, buildings disappearing into pale clouds while traffic below moved in glittering ribbons of rainwater and headlights. It was barely eight in the morning, yet her phone had already been vibrating relentlessly against the marble kitchen counter for the last twenty minutes, notifications stacking over one another faster than she could read them. Emails from producers. Last-minute scheduling updates. A reminder from her manager to avoid discussing the more invasive tabloid rumors surrounding the production. Her publicist sending three separate texts reminding her that this interview would trend no matter what happened, so she needed to 'lean into warmth.'
Y/N stood barefoot in the middle of her kitchen holding a coffee mug between both hands, staring absently at the steam curling upward while her laptop remained open beside her, paused midway through a compilation video titled Jaafar Jackson becoming Michael Jackson for ten minutes straight. Someone online had uploaded it only two nights ago after the movie came out, and despite herself, she had watched it more than once since then, though she would sooner throw herself into the Hudson than admit that out loud.
It wasn't even attraction. Not yet, anyway. At least that was what she kept telling herself.
She simply found him interesting.
There was something unusually restrained about him in every clip she had seen during the press rollout so far, especially compared to the rest of the cast. Most actors promoting major films eventually developed a rhythm during interviews, a sort of polished ease that came from repeating the same stories often enough for them to lose emotional weight. Y/N had spent years around celebrities and could recognize media training almost instantly: the calculated pauses, the rehearsed vulnerability, the charming anecdote strategically designed to go viral in thirty second clips on TikTok.
Jaafar did not seem polished in that way. Careful, yes. Guarded, definitely.
And maybe that was what had unsettled her curiosity enough to keep thinking about him over the last two weeks. Every time a journalist asked him something personal, there was always this brief flicker across his face beforehand, as though he genuinely considered the answer instead of reaching automatically for something media-friendly. It made him feel strangely human inside a machine built specifically to flatten humanity into digestible soundbites.
Y/N hated that she had noticed that.
'Oh God,' she muttered quietly to herself, finally shutting the laptop. 'Get a grip.'
The apartment remained silent around her except for distant rain tapping gently against the windows.
Normally, interview days never affected her like this. She had built an entire career on composure, on making famous people comfortable enough to forget cameras existed while simultaneously revealing almost nothing about herself in return. It was a balancing act she had mastered years ago, one that transformed her from another internet influencer with a microphone into someone respected by actors, musicians, directors, people who notoriously hated interviews but requested her specifically because she listened differently than others did.
That was the irony of her job.
Millions of people watched her every week, yet almost nobody actually knew her.
They knew the curated version: intelligent questions, effortless beauty, dry humor delivered with perfect timing. They knew the girl who sat across from Oscar winners looking impossibly calm beneath studio lighting. What they did not know was that she spent the night before every important interview overthinking every possible question until three in the morning. They did not know she replayed awkward moments in her head for weeks afterward or that she secretly worried her success depended entirely on people continuing to find her charming.
And lately, exhaustion had begun creeping beneath the polished exterior she wore so convincingly online.
She exhaled slowly before finally pulling herself away from the kitchen counter and walking toward her bedroom, where clothing options had already been laid neatly across the bed by her stylist earlier that morning. Most of them leaned predictably glamorous: structured blazers, fitted dresses, sharp silhouettes designed to photograph beautifully during press coverage.
Instead, her eyes drifted immediately toward something softer.
Cream silk blouse.
Dark tailored trousers.
Gold jewelry delicate enough not to distract on camera.
Professional without trying too hard and elegant without looking calculated.
As she changed, her mind wandered unwillingly back toward the interview packet sitting on her vanity table, filled with production notes and cast information she had already memorized days ago. Nia Long portraying Katherine Jackson. Colman Domingo portraying Joseph Jackson. Juliano Valdi as young Michael. And Jaafar carrying the impossible task of portraying one of the most scrutinized human beings to ever exist while simultaneously being emotionally connected to him in real life.
That alone fascinated her.
Actors disappeared into roles all the time. That was their job.
But what did it feel like to disappear into someone your family still loved personally?
The thought lingered unpleasantly in her chest while she adjusted the sleeves of her blouse in the mirror.
By the time her car arrived downstairs, the rain had slowed into a fine silver mist coating the city in reflective haze. Her driver greeted her warmly while she slid into the backseat, immediately greeted by another flood of notifications lighting up her phone screen. Instagram mentions. Fans posting excitedly about the upcoming interview. Speculation threads already dissecting the Michael press tour frame by frame like forensic investigators.
The studio lot buzzed with familiar chaos when she arrived an hour later, production assistants weaving rapidly between equipment while publicists hovered nearby clutching coffees and clipboards with equal desperation. The entire building carried that particular energy unique to major entertainment productions: expensive stress hidden beneath perfect lighting.
The second Y/N stepped inside, people began greeting her instantly. She smiled automatically through every interaction, slipping effortlessly into the public-facing version of herself that years of media training had perfected. Calm posture. Warm eye contact. Easy laughter at the appropriate moments. Nobody looking at her would have guessed she had spent part of the morning irrationally nervous about meeting a man she technically already knew plenty about through research alone.
A production assistant guided her toward the set while speaking rapidly. 'Okay, so we're doing group interview first, then maybe individual clips depending on timing. They're running a little behind because another junket went over schedule, but everyone's already here.'
Y/N nodded absentmindedly while stepping onto the soundstage.
The set itself looked stunning. Warm amber lighting spilled across cream-colored furniture arranged carefully beneath subtle gold accents, the atmosphere elegant enough to feel cinematic without becoming artificial. Cameras surrounded the seating area from multiple angles while crew members adjusted microphones and lighting levels with intense concentration.
The cast stood near the far side of the studio speaking quietly among themselves while makeup artists floated nearby making last-minute touch-ups. Nia Long looked graceful even in stillness, carrying herself with the kind of effortless confidence that made elegance appear instinctual. Colman Domingo, whom she had interviewed a couple of times before and befriended him, radiated charisma so naturally that people around him seemed brighter by association, one hand moving animatedly while he spoke.
Then there was Jaafar.
For a brief moment, Y/N simply observed him unnoticed.
He stood slightly apart from the others, not awkwardly, not isolated, just quieter somehow. One hand rested loosely against the back of a chair while someone from production spoke to him, and even from across the room, there was something remarkably restrained about his body language, as though he remained constantly aware of how visible he had become over the last year and still hadn't fully adjusted to it.
He was taller than she expected.
Softer-looking, too.
Not soft physically. There was obvious structure beneath the sharp tailoring of his dark clothing, broad shoulders emphasized by the fitted jacket hugging his frame. But his face carried a kind of thoughtfulness cameras had not entirely captured in interviews she'd watched before. A stillness that felt genuine instead of performative.
As though sensing her attention somehow, Jaafar looked up.
And there it was.
The first moment.
Not dramatic enough for movies. No thunder cracking overhead, no instant orchestral swell. Just his eyes meeting hers across the studio floor and lingering long enough for something quiet and strange to settle low in her stomach before either of them could stop it.
Y/N had spent years being looked at professionally. By actors. By executives. By fans recognizing her in airports and restaurants. She knew the difference between attention and observation.
Jaafar observed.
It lasted maybe three seconds before Colman noticed her standing there and immediately broke the tension entirely.
'Well,' he announced warmly while opening his arms, 'there she is. The only interviewer alive capable of making grown actors confess their childhood trauma on camera.'
The crew laughed.
The moment shattered.
Y/N smiled despite herself while stepping forward to hug him briefly. 'Please. You people do that voluntarily.'
'Not true,' Colman replied dramatically. 'You create a false sense of security first.'
Nia greeted her next with immediate warmth, touching her arm affectionately while complimenting her blouse. Juliano followed shyly afterward, visibly nervous in the way younger actors often became during major press tours.
Then Jaafar stepped closer.
Up close, he somehow seemed even quieter than before.
'Hi,' Y/N said softly.
'Hi, I'm Jaafar, nice to meet you.' He said shaking her hand softly, as if she would break
His voice caught her off guard instantly. Lower than expected. Calm in a way that felt grounding rather than rehearsed.
'Y/N, nice to meet you too,' you smiled warmly.
Their handshake should have been ordinary.
Professional.
Forgettable.
Instead, Y/N became suddenly aware of ridiculous details she should not have noticed at all, like the faint silver rings resting against his fingers or the way his grip tightened slightly at the very end before letting go, hesitant somehow, like neither of them had intended for the contact to last even that extra second.
Which was absurd.
Completely absurd.
She pulled her hand back smoothly before her brain could embarrass her further.
Everyone settled into their seats soon afterward while crew members rushed around making final adjustments to lighting and microphones. Colman filled the room easily with conversation, teasing Juliano until the younger actor finally relaxed enough to laugh properly, while Nia answered questions from producers with patient elegance.
Meanwhile, Y/N found herself becoming increasingly aware of Jaafar sitting beside her.
Most rising actors during massive press tours compensated for nervousness by performing confidence loudly. Jaafar did the opposite. He listened carefully when others spoke. Looked directly at whoever was talking. Smiled quietly instead of trying to dominate conversations. There was something deeply unguarded about the effort he made to put other people at ease while visibly carrying pressure himself.
It intrigued her more than it should have.
'Rolling in thirty seconds,' someone called from behind the cameras.
The room shifted instantly into professional mode.
Crew members moved aside.
Conversations faded.
Studio lights brightened overhead.
Y/N crossed one leg neatly over the other while adjusting the cue cards resting in her lap, her posture settling automatically into practiced elegance as cameras prepared to roll. Beside her, Jaafar exhaled slowly enough that she almost missed it.
Almost.
Then the cameras started.
And like always, the transformation happened immediately.
Her voice became smoother. Warmer. Confident in that effortless way audiences loved dissecting online afterward.
'Today,' she began with an easy smile directed toward the cameras, 'I'm sitting down with the incredible cast of Michael, one of the most anticipated films in recent years...'
The interview unfolded beautifully at first. Questions flowed naturally between the cast as they discussed preparation processes, emotional responsibility, favorite moments on set. Nia spoke with thoughtful grace about portraying Katherine Jackson's strength beneath public scrutiny. Colman answered with magnetic storytelling instincts that made everyone around him laugh effortlessly. Juliano's sincerity charmed the crew almost immediately.
And Jaafar? Y/N noticed him becoming more comfortable gradually throughout the conversation, though not in the way she expected.
He didn't become louder.
He became more honest.
Every answer seemed carefully considered before spoken aloud, his fingers occasionally brushing against the rings on his hand while thinking through certain questions. At one point, while discussing the emotional intensity of filming, Y/N asked gently whether there had ever been a moment where the reality of portraying Michael stopped feeling like performance and started feeling personal.
The atmosphere shifted almost immediately afterward.
Not dramatically. Subtly.
Like everyone in the room sensed the question had landed somewhere deeper than expected.
Jaafar looked downward briefly before answering, his expression softening into something more introspective than media-trained.
'Yeah,' he admitted quietly. 'More than once.'
The room remained completely silent around him.
'There were days during filming where I'd suddenly stop thinking about the technical side of acting altogether,' he continued slowly, gaze lifting toward her again. 'And instead I'd think about who he actually was to my family. To people who loved him. To the world. To me.' He paused briefly, almost searching for the right wording. 'That responsibility never really leaves your mind.'
Y/N watched him carefully while he spoke.
Because there it was again.
That carefulness.
Not fear.
Love.
Love heavy enough to make someone handle every word gently.
The interview continued after that, though something delicate had shifted permanently beneath the surface of it.
Y/N felt it every time she glanced in Jaafar's direction afterward.
Not distraction exactly. She was far too experienced for that. Years of interviewing people beneath bright studio lights had trained her to maintain focus under almost any circumstance, and outwardly, nothing about her composure changed. Her smile remained easy. Her posture relaxed. Her questions continued flowing naturally from one topic to the next with the same thoughtful rhythm her audience loved her for.
But internally, awareness had settled itself somewhere beneath her ribs and refused to leave.
Because now she knew what his honesty sounded like.
And unfortunately, it was becoming difficult to stop listening for it.
The conversation gradually lightened after the heavier moments passed. Colman told an absurd behind the scenes story involving an accidentally broken prop and an assistant director nearly having a heart attack over it, earning laughter from the entire room, including Jaafar, whose smile arrived slower than the others but somehow lingered longer once it appeared. Nia spoke beautifully about the emotional atmosphere on set during certain family scenes, and Juliano relaxed enough by the end of the interview to joke shyly about how intimidating it had initially been stepping into such a legendary story.
Through all of it, Y/N remained hyperaware of tiny things she absolutely should not have been noticing.
The way Jaafar leaned forward slightly whenever someone else was speaking seriously, like listening itself required his full attention. The way his thumb absentmindedly brushed against the silver ring on his finger while thinking through answers. The fact his laugh was quieter off-camera than on it, less performative somehow, as though he still had not entirely adjusted to being observed this constantly.
And worst of all, the increasingly dangerous realization that he seemed just as aware of her.
Every time she redirected a question toward another cast member, she could feel his attention lingering anyway. Not invasive. Not arrogant. Just...steady. Careful in the same way the rest of him seemed careful.
Once or twice, she caught him looking at her before she had spoken at all, as though anticipating what she might ask next.
It unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
Because interviews were supposed to feel controlled.
This no longer did.
By the time the producer finally called cut, the atmosphere on set had softened into something noticeably warmer than when they had first arrived. Crew members relaxed visibly behind the cameras while someone near the lighting equipment muttered, 'That was really good,' under their breath to another producer.
The red recording lights switched off.
For a brief second, nobody moved.
Then the room exhaled all at once.
'See?' Colman announced dramatically while removing his microphone pack. 'I told you she'd have us discussing our inner emotional landscapes by the end of this.'
Y/N laughed softly while gathering her cue cards together. 'You were all easy to talk to. That's not my fault.'
'No, seriously,' Nia added, turning toward her with genuine warmth. 'Those were beautiful questions.'
Something about hearing that from her specifically made Y/N smile a little more sincerely than before. 'Thank you. I feel like people are approaching this project very carefully, and I wanted the conversation to reflect that.'
'It did,' Nia said simply.
Nearby, Juliano nodded quickly in agreement. 'Honestly, that was probably the least nervous I've been all week.'
'That's because she tricks people into feeling safe,' Colman interrupted.
'I'm starting to think you're accusing me of crimes.'
'I am.'
The crew laughed again.
The atmosphere afterward became pleasantly chaotic in the way sets often did once filming wrapped. Publicists stepped back in. Makeup artists hovered nearby with tissues and powder compacts. Producers congratulated each other quietly while assistants began reorganizing equipment around the studio.
Y/N stood from her chair slowly, smoothing her blouse instinctively while thanking different crew members around her. She was accustomed to this part of the job too, the gentle comedown after interviews ended, where everyone briefly returned from performance into ordinary humanity again.
Usually, this was the point where actors left quickly for their next press obligation.
Instead, the cast lingered.
Colman remained beside her for several minutes talking animatedly about an upcoming theater project while Nia complimented the atmosphere of the interview again, mentioning how refreshing it felt compared to more invasive press circuits lately. Even Juliano stayed long enough to thank her shyly once more before his publicist finally ushered him toward the exit.
And through all of it, Y/N could feel Jaafar nearby without directly looking at him.
The awareness was becoming ridiculous now.
She caught fragments of his voice occasionally while he spoke quietly with someone from production across the room, low and calm beneath the surrounding noise of the studio. Once, while laughing softly at something Colman said, she glanced up instinctively and found Jaafar already looking at her from several feet away.
Not intensely but attentively, like he was still listening.
Her chest tightened unexpectedly.
Professionalism, she reminded herself firmly.
This was professionalism.
Eventually, the room began emptying for real. One by one, people drifted toward the exits until only scattered crew members remained behind dismantling equipment beneath the warm studio lighting. Y/N finally crouched beside her chair to gather the rest of her belongings, slipping loose cue cards into her tote bag while her phone buzzed repeatedly with incoming notifications she ignored completely.
Her producer was probably already texting about engagement numbers.
She didn't particularly care right now.
As she reached for her water bottle near the floor, the strange sensation of being watched settled over her again. Not unpleasantly. Not heavily. Just present.
Y/Nstraightened slowly.
Most of the cast had already left the set.
But Jaafar hadn't. He had returned.
He stood several feet away near the edge of the stage, hands resting loosely in the pockets of his jacket while the last few crew members moved around behind him. Without the pressure of cameras actively recording him, he somehow looked younger. Less composed around the edges. The kind of exhaustion people carried after spending hours being perceived.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The silence wasn't awkward.
If anything, it felt oddly suspended, like the final few seconds of a song before the music completely fades out.
Then Jaafar took a step closer.
'Hey,' he said quietly.
Y/N looked up at him fully, smiling. 'Hey.'
His expression softened slightly, though he still looked almost thoughtful about something.
'I just wanted to say...' He paused briefly, one hand leaving his pocket to adjust the rings against his fingers absentmindedly. 'That was probably one of the best interviews I've done.'
Something warm moved unexpectedly through her chest.
'Oh,' she said before she could stop herself. 'Thank you.'
'I mean it.' His voice remained calm, but there was something deeply sincere about the way he said it that made her stomach tighten faintly. 'Most people ask questions about Michael like they already decided what answers they want beforehand.' He held her gaze for a second longer. 'You didn't.'
The studio suddenly felt too quiet.
Y/N swallowed carefully, suddenly very aware of how close he was standing now.
'Well,' she said softly, 'I figured you've probably had enough of people trying to tell you what your own experience is supposed to feel like.'
For the briefest moment, something unreadable crossed his face.
Surprise maybe. Or recognition.
Whatever it was, it made the air between them feel strangely fragile.
'Yeah,' he admitted after a second, his voice quieter now. 'Exactly.'
Neither of them looked away immediately afterward.
And Y/N hated how aware she became of every tiny detail in the silence that followed. The studio lights reflecting faintly against the silver rings on his fingers. The exhaustion resting subtly beneath his expression. The fact he smelled faintly like sandalwood, vanilla and clean laundry when he stood this close.
Dangerous details.
The kind people accidentally carried home with them.
Somewhere behind them, a crew member wheeled equipment loudly across the floor, breaking the moment apart just enough for reality to settle back in.
Jaafar stepped back slightly then, almost like he had only just remembered where they were.
'I should probably go,' he said.
But neither of them moved right away.
Then finally, slowly, he smiled.
Not the practiced smile he had given cameras earlier.
Something smaller.
Realer.
'Hopefully I'll see you again,' he said.
And maybe it was the exhaustion of the day, or the strange softness lingering in the nearly empty studio, or maybe it was simply the way he was looking at her like the answer mattered more than it should have, but Y/N felt her heartbeat stumble very slightly against her ribs before she answered.
'Yeah,' she said quietly. 'Maybe you will.'
Jaafar held her gaze for one final second before turning toward the exit at last, disappearing gradually beneath the warm gold lights of the studio corridor until she could no longer see him anymore.
But somehow, even after he was gone, the feeling of him remained.
And much later that night, long after the interview clips had already started circulating across the internet like wildfire, and long after strangers began building entire narratives out of glances that had lasted only seconds, Y/N would find herself standing in the quiet of her hotel room with the city glowing faintly beyond the windows, replaying not the questions she asked or the answers she received, but the way he had looked at her for just a fraction too long before speaking, as if something in her question had reached him in a place most people never managed to.
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Hello!!
I'm so excited for this one! it's the first time I'm posting on wattpad so lowkey nervous. FYI, English is not my first language so I'm sorry for any mistake I might make, feel free to correct me.
I started posting this story on Tumblr so I decided to post it on here but it will not be following entirely the Tumblr fic as the Tumblr one will be shorter (it will only follow the first 4/5 chapters)
p.s: I started writing this with an original character, but changed it to Y/N.
Hope you all enjoy <3