23rd of December, 1988
Michael is 30, Angela is 24

Michael: We landed back at LAX early that morning, and the sound of heavy rain pattered against the plane as we waited on the tarmac.

It was pouring outside, the kind of rain that could only come from a California winter storm, the raindrops hitting the ground in big splashes.

I turned slightly to look at Angela, who had fallen asleep on my shoulder during the flight.

Her head was resting against me, her lips slightly parted, and I could see a little crease in her forehead, like she was having a dream she couldn't quite make sense of.

Even when she slept, she was so effortlessly beautiful.

"I'll go get the car ready, sir." Bill said.

"Thanks, Bill." I whispered, careful not to wake her just yet.

As Bill got out, I gently adjusted her head so it rested on the headrest behind us.

"Angie, wake up," I got close to her ear. "We're here, baby. Welcome home."

She groaned softly, stretching, her eyes still closed.

"Mmm... home. I missed home." she murmured, barely awake.

I couldn't help but smile. We'd spent the last 10 days doing everything and nothing in Japan, and it had been... Perfect.

We didn't have a single moment apart - her energy matched mine, both on stage and off.

She would watch me from backstage, blue eyes following my every move. Then in the car, we'd be all over each other, ending every night in each other's arms.

She always found a way to stay out of the cameras' reach, and I tried to keep her hidden as much as possible, even though part of me just wanted to show her off to the world.

But now we were back in Los Angeles, back in the quiet of her world, and I could tell she was relieved.

Frank couldn't quite understand it. "She doesn't want people to know about you?" he'd asked, confused as to why Angela was so intent on staying out of the spotlight. But I didn't want to explain it to him.

Angela wasn't like other women I'd dated; she didn't care about the fame, and that made her special.

I also figured she would be happy to be back in California. It was a lot, even for me, and I'm used to it.

By the time we were in the car, heading toward her family's house, Angela had fully woken up, her hand resting on mine as she leaned against me.

"So Luciano is 16, right?" I asked, going over the details of her family one more time. "And he plays guitar. Rosa is...?"

"27. And she just got a job as a paralegal." Angela reminded me.

I nodded, taking it all in. I had never been so nervous in my life; something about this felt different. Angela felt different. I wanted to make a good impression.

As we drove into a quiet, familiar neighborhood, I recognized the area. "This is Sherman Oaks?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "I grew up just a few blocks ahead."

"Did you know my parents' house is in Encino? We basically grew up right next to each other."

Her smile widened. "Huh, I guess we did."

We pulled up to a modest, comfortable-looking house. It wasn't nearly as grand as anything I was used to, but that only made it more charming.

Bill helped us with our bags, giving us a polite nod as he closed the trunk.

"I'll be a phone call away, sir." he said before leaving.

Angela squeezed my hand. "Ready?"

I took a deep breath. "Anything else I should know before we walk in?"

She chuckled softly, "You'll do great, Michael. Just be yourself. They'll love you."

"You think so?" I sighed. "I want to make a good impression. I mean, this is your family."

"Just be who you are, talk to them like you talk to me."

"Should be easy enough. Although I don't think pillow talk is appropriate with your family..."

Angela gasped, shoving my shoulder playfully. Finally, I felt a bit of ease. "You think you're so funny, huh?"

"It's because I am."

Her eyes rolled, "It's a good thing you're cute."

"Not too bad yourself, baby."

I leaned in, and so did she. We kissed gently, and I felt so much warmth rush through me.

For a moment, everything faded away - the pressure of the day, the nerves about meeting her family. Just her and I.

"Let's go."

~

Angela: "Mamma? Dad? We're here!" I called out as we stepped inside the house.

It was quiet, except for the sound of Luciano's music blaring from upstairs. The smell of my mom's cooking traveled through the air, and I smiled to myself.

"It smells incredible." Michael whispered, inhaling deeply.

"That's my mom's lasagna. You're in for a treat." I said, hanging our jackets on the coat rack.

But where is everyone? They knew we're coming.

I figured my mom was busy in the kitchen and dad was probably running errands. Still, it was a little strange.

Michael was quiet beside me, his eyes taking in the garlands and lights that decorated the foyer.

I could tell he was a little on edge, so I squeezed his hand. "Come on, let's get settled upstairs. You can meet them when they get back."

He nodded, following me up the stairs, our bags in his hands. As we passed Luciano's door, the music got louder.

"Sorry about my brother," I winced. "He's... Well, 16."

Michael laughed softly. "Trust me, I know how brothers can be. Don't worry about it."

We stopped at my old bedroom door.

"Don't laugh," I warned, turning the knob. "I haven't changed it since I left for college six years ago."

He stepped in first, and I couldn't help but blush as he took in my room. It was a relic from my teenage years, filled with books, knickknacks from family vacations, and framed photos from Italy.

I also had my own en-suite bathroom, which was very appreciated in my early high school years when Rosa and I would most likely be fighting over it in the mornings. It wasn't big, but it did the job.

"It's cute," he said, running a finger along the bookshelf. "No posters? No cassette tapes?"

I shrugged. "I wasn't really into music back then."

He shot me a playful, disbelieving look. "But you came to my concert?"

I smiled, suddenly shy. "That was for my friends. They dragged me there, remember?"

His eyebrows raised in surprise. "And yet, here we are."

"Here we are." I sighed, feeling more comfortable now.

Watching him in my childhood bedroom was surreal. Like two worlds were finally colliding. But something about it also felt... Right.

I watched him scan the bookshelf, my heart racing in my chest for reasons I couldn't quite understand.

He was going through some of my most personal belongings; books I'd loved, memories I cherished. It felt intimate in a way I hadn't expected.

"You good, baby?" Michael asked, turning to me with those soft eyes.

"Yeah, sorry. Just tired." I lied.

"How about we take a much needed nap? At least until your parents are back."

I nodded, took his hand, and pulled him into bed.

"Thank you," I glanced into his eyes as he held me close. "For knowing exactly what I need."

"I'm only tryin'... If anything, I should thank you. Look where we are. I haven't felt this normal in years. I think this is exactly what I needed."

Those butterflies made my stomach and heart flutter suddenly.

I leaned in, our foreheads touching as I closed my eyes, soaking in the moment.

The quiet of the room felt so safe, even with the faint sound of Luciano's music.

Then, unable to wait any longer, I pressed my lips to his; letting the kiss deepen slowly, savoring his taste. He always tasted like bubblegum.

The kiss was tender, filled with an unspoken understanding of what we had shared.

He showed me his world, and I was showing him mine.

I felt a sudden rush of emotions, grateful to be in this moment with him.

When we finally pulled back, his big brown eyes were searching mine, and I could feel the weight of everything I wanted to say hanging in the air.

"Michael," I whispered. "I-"

Before I could think, I blurted it, those three words spilling out breathlessly. "I love you."

My heart raced in my chest, hoping he wouldn't pull away.

But I said them, and there was no going back. For a second, I prayed he didn't hear me.

Then I realized I didn't care. Because I really did love him.

How did I fall so head over heels for this man, who wasn't even in my conscious merely over a month ago?

Maybe it was the way he let me in so fast. Wearing his own heart on his sleeve, showing me his world, sharing his most inner thoughts and fears.

Like how scared he was of growing old, and how he hopes he could have kids sooner than later. Or how he wishes that just for once, he could walk out on the street without being recognized.

His gaze softened, and he cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing against my skin.

"I love you, too, Angela." he whispered.

"You do?"

"I do, very much... Can I show you just how much?"

~

I didn't even hear the music from Luciano's room stop, too lost in the feel of Michael's body against my own, our breath still heavy and tangled from the moment we'd just shared.

My fingers were tracing the soft white patches on his skin, as if memorizing them.

He left small love bites on my neck as he tried catching his breath. "You're so good to me... I love you, Angie..."

I hummed into his sweaty shoulder. "I love you more, Michael."

It felt so good to say it. So right.

"I love you, I love you, I love you..." he sang, lips moving from my neck to my jaw as he did, and I felt him smile against my skin.

And just as his mouth found mine again, the bedroom door creaked open.

"Ange? You in here? When did you get home- Oh, my God!" Rosa's voice cut through the room.

My heart stopped, and so did Michael.

I watched, frozen, as my sister stood in the doorway, her eyes wide.

Michael reacted faster than I did, yanking the covers up to hide our naked bodies. He quickly buried his face in the crook of my neck, probably hoping if he couldn't see her, she wouldn't see him.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry!" Rosa squealed, her hand covering her eyes as she stumbled for the door handle. "I didn't mean to-"

"Rosa!" I managed to choke out, my face burning with embarrassment. "Knock next time!"

"I didn't think I had to knock in my own house!" she snapped, her voice panicked. "Oh , God, I... I'll just... I'm going downstairs!"

She practically tripped over her own feet, slamming the door behind her as she fled.

I blinked, stunned. Michael was still hiding his face in my neck, his body pressed against mine like he was trying to melt into me to avoid the embarrassment.

"Oh... my... God." I whispered, trying to process what just happened.

Michael groaned softly against my skin, finally lifting his head to peek at the door, making sure it was fully closed. His cheeks were flushed pink, and I could see a bit of laughter in his eyes.

"I don't think I've ever been this embarrassed in my life." I mumbled, covering my face with both hands.

Michael chuckled, his lips brushing against my shoulder. "Well... That was unexpected."

"That's an understatement." I groaned, trying to fight off my own laughter, but failing.

The absurdity of it all suddenly hit me, and I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing.

Michael looked at me, surprised at first, then his face softened into a grin as he started laughing too.

We lay there for a few moments, laughing into the pillow, the tension breaking with each giggle.

"She's never gonna let me live this down." I sighed, still catching my breath.

Michael raised an eyebrow, smirking. "You think she won't let you live it down? I just got caught in bed by your sister on my first visit to your parents' house. I'm never living this down."

I giggled, burying my face in his chest. "You'll be fine. She loves you already."

He hummed softly, running his fingers through my hair. "I hope so. That's one hell of an introduction."

~

Once we'd calmed down enough to actually get dressed, Michael and I made our way downstairs.

I was bracing myself for whatever awkward conversation was about to happen with Rosa.

I knew my sister - she was probably mortified, but also ready to tease me endlessly for the next decade about what had just happened.

We reached the living room, and there was Rosa, sitting on the couch, looking like she didn't know whether to laugh or run out the front door.

I shot her a look, one that said, "Don't you dare say a word". But Rosa being Rosa, she couldn't help herself.

"So," she started, biting her lip to keep from laughing. "How was your, uh, nap?"

I groaned, hiding my face in my hands. "Rosa..."

"I mean, you looked so rested when I walked in."

Michael, to his credit, stayed completely composed, though I could see the corner of his mouth twitching, trying not to smile.

"I didn't hear you knock, Rosa." I shot back, raising my eyebrows.

She held up her hands defensively. "I did knock. Just... After I opened the door."

Michael chuckled beside me, and I elbowed him lightly. "Don't encourage her!"

Rosa's face broke into a wide grin. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to... Uh, interrupt anything. But seriously, Michael Jackson? Angela, you did not tell me about this!"

I sighed. "It's... Kind of new."

"New? You're bringing him home for Christmas! That's not 'new', that's like... Serious," Rosa's eyes moved to Michael, who stayed quiet, probably trying to stay out of our sibling banter.
"Isn't it?"

Michael smiled warmly, looking at me before turning to Rosa.

"It's very serious to me." he said, his voice genuine.

The honesty in his words hit me, and suddenly the awkwardness faded away. Rosa's grin softened, and she nodded, as if she understood something more now.

"Well," Rosa said, standing up and smoothing her jeans, "Mamma's gonna flip when she finds out who's joining us for dinner. You better prepare yourselves."

~

30 minutes later, we were laughing and chatting away.

Sitting in Michael's arms, as we told Rosa how we met, any trace of embarrassment was gone.

I was so glad they were getting along.

We all looked at the front door's direction when we heard it open.

"Rosa? Come help me with the groceries, per favore!" mom called. My sister rolled her eyes slightly, but got up regardless.

I felt Michael's hand, which was on my knee, tighten up. Aw, he's so cute when he's nervous...

Suddenly, I caught a whiff of the outside. That usual smell I loved so much, of rain mixed with grass, made me queasy.

I tried taking in a deep breath, but it only made it worse.

My family's voices moved to the kitchen, I could hear my mom rummaging through the grocery bags, and my dad's low voice murmuring something in response.

Then, mom's accent could be heard closer, so I stood up, Michael following my lead.

In an instant, she was in the living room.

I was pulled into a hug, "Angela, bella! Oh, look at you!"

The hug was too tight for my liking, especially because that sudden nausea wouldn't go away.

"How was the flight?!"

"It was good. Long, but good." I said, stepping away from her embrace.

She looked at me, her eyes full of that familiar sparkle she had whenever I would come back home.

Her glance moved over my shoulder. Dad followed her in, still wearing his wet raincoat. He smiled at me, then paused when his gaze landed on Michael.

Michael cleared his throat, "Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Brown. I'm Michael, it's a pleasure to meet you."

He held out his hand for them to shake, but they seemed too baffled to even move.

"You're Michael Jackson." my dad stated.

"I am, sir."

"Are you the Michael I talked to a week ago?" my mom blinked.

"Yes, mamma, that's him." I nodded, feeling my cheeks turn hot, slightly embarrassed by how they were acting.

A smile spread across her lips, and she attacked him in an unexpected hug. "No wonder you sounded so familiar!"

"Oh, my God," she laughed, overwhelmed. "I had no idea when we talked on the phone! I thought you were just... Some guy from Los Olivos."

Michael laughed too, hugging her back, his warmth radiating in the room.

"I like to think I'm still just some guy." he joked.

Dad, who had recovered from his initial shock, gave Michael an approving nod. "Well, this is certainly a surprise. But welcome, son. We're glad to have you here with us for Christmas."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

"Angela," my mom clicked her tongue in disapproval when she figured it all out. "So when you said you were going to Japan, you went on tour?!"

I was about to answer, but Michael beat me to it.

"I hope that's okay, I wanted to spend as much time as I could with your daughter, Mrs. Brown."

Mom's expression softened. "Oh, of course it is! I just worry too much. Don't mind me, Michael. And please, call me Maria."

"I'm Jared." my dad finally shook Michael's hand.

"Alright, dinner is almost ready, I just had to run and get some last-minute things from the store... You two must be starving after that long flight! Jared, go get Luciano and set the table, please."

Dad nodded, quickly heading upstairs, while Rosa rejoined us in the living room.

"So, did you settle in okay? I hope your old bed is enough for the both of you." my mom said.

"Oh, trust me, it is." Rosa remarked, making me shoot her a look.

"Shut. Up." I mouthed.

Mom looked clueless, while Michael blushed, clearly embarrassed. "It's all perfect, Mrs. Brown."

"Maria," she corrected him. "Now, go ahead and relax for a bit, you two. Rosa, kitchen, per favore."

When they were gone, Michael let out a chuckle.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothin', baby. I love your family. They seem so... Real."

"I think they love you, too. I know I do..."

He wrapped his arms around my waist, bringing me close. And with his kiss, my nausea went away, and so did all my worries about him meeting my family.

~

"Michael, Angela, dinner is ready!" mom called.

I took Michael's hand in mine, leading him to the dining room. All eyes fell on us when we entered.

"Please, bella, come sit." my mom gestured to the two free chairs next to her.

"You- you're Michael Jackson. Like, THE Michael Jackson." Luciano gaped as we took our seats.

I nodded, cringing a little at the way my brother's voice rose in pitch with excitement.

"Holy crap! No way!" Luciano exclaimed, leaning forward. "This is insane!"

"Luci..." I groaned.

"It's okay, baby," Michael squeezed my hand. "It's very nice to meet you, Luciano."

"Baby? Are you two, like, dating?!"

Rosa giggled. "More than that, for sure..."

"Rosa!" I huffed, giving her a sharp look, while Michael chuckled softly next to me.

"What? It's true!" she teased, clearly enjoying herself.

Luciano's eyes widened. "Wait, so you two are actually...?"

"Yes, Luciano," I sighed, feeling my face heat up again. "We're together."

"No way," he grinned, leaning back in his chair as if he'd just heard the most incredible news. "Michael Jackson, dating my sister. This is unreal."

Michael smiled warmly, clearly used to people being shocked around him.

"I'm just a guy who got lucky." he said, looking at me with that tender gaze that made my heart beat faster.

My mom smiled at the exchange, clearly amused but also a little emotional.

"Well, we're just glad you're both here with us," she said, her voice softening. "It's been too long since we had you home, Angela."

I reached out and squeezed her hand. "I missed you guys, too."

Michael looked around the table, taking in the moment, before his eyes settled on me again.

"I feel lucky to be here with you all tonight." he said, his voice sincere.

"Alright, let's eat before the food gets cold. Maria worked hard on this, so dig in!" dad said.

We all reached for the plates in front of us, mom serving us each a big piece of her lasagna.

As we started to eat, I felt Michael's hand brush against mine under the table. He gave it a gentle rub, and despite the initial nerves, everything felt right.

"Luciano," Michael spoke up after a while. "I hear you're a musician too?"

Luciano nearly dropped his fork, clearly stunned that Michael Jackson was asking him about his music. "Uh, yeah, I play guitar. Just started a band, actually."

"That's great," Michael said, sounding genuinely interested. "I'd love to hear you play sometime."

Luciano looked like he'd won the lottery, a grin spreading across his face. "That would be amazing!"

I grinned, feeling my heart fill with happiness.

Despite everything, this was turning into a perfect evening, better than I could have hoped for.

As the dinner conversation continued, I reached for my glass of water, hoping the cool liquid would help ease the discomfort that had crept up again.

The subtle queasiness had been there all throughout, ever since we sat down, but I was doing my best to ignore it.

Michael's hand brushed mine under the table once more, a gentle reminder that he was right there with me.

I smiled at him, but I couldn't shake that slight twist in my stomach. It wasn't enough to make me sick, but just enough to keep me slightly on edge.

I pushed a few more bites of pasta around on my plate, hoping it would pass.

"Angela, you're hardly eating, bella." my mom's voice pulled me back to reality. Her concerned look landed on my plate.

"I'm fine, mamma. I think the flight just got to me a little." I said, putting on a smile.

It wasn't a lie, exactly - I didn't want to worry her.

Michael glanced at me, his brows knitting together, clearly noticing my discomfort. "You okay, baby?"

"Yeah," I nodded quickly. "Just a bit tired."

I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

The conversation moved on, thankfully, as Luciano excitedly talked about his band, and I took the opportunity to take a few small bites of food, hoping no one would notice.

For a while, I managed to distract myself from the discomfort in my stomach.

Rosa started asking Michael about his upcoming projects, and the two of them talked playfully about music, which gave me a second to compose myself.

But every time I thought the nausea had passed, it came back, stronger.

And then, just as I felt like it went away for good, that horrible smell came from an open window.

Finally, I leaned in closer to Michael and whispered, "I'll be right back."

I slipped out of my chair and ran for the bathroom, the cool air of the hallway being a temporary relief from the heat and noise of the dining room.

Once inside, I closed the door behind me and leaned over the sink, taking deep breaths. It all came up instantly, the vomit burning my throat.

As I stood there, hunched over the sink, and my family completely oblivious in the other room, thoughts filled my head.

Is this just nerves? Or could it something else?