It's pretty late on a Sunday morning. You walk down the stairs, still in your pajamas, to the kitchen for breakfast. You find Michael at the table, erratically writing on a notepad with a pen.

"Good morning," you say cheerily as you walk behind the chair he's in. You place your hands on his shoulders and lightly kiss him on the head. You receive no reaction. He just continues writing.

You sigh softly and walk away towards the pantry. This is typical when he's working hard on something.

"Oh, hi. Sorry," he says. You turn back to see him look at you for a second, and then back to his paper.

"What're you working on?" you ask.

"New song." Michael says bluntly, without looking up.

"I figured." you say. "When do they want it by?", 'they' meaning the producer and record company. You begin to absentmindedly look through the pantry.

"Tomorrow morning," he says.

"Ah." You pick out a box of cereal and prepare yourself a bowl. Then you sit down at the table across from him and begin eating. He stops writing for a second, stares at the paper, and then shakes his head and crosses something out.

"Did you eat yet?" you ask. He has a habit of forgetting to eat when he's under pressure. He continues to write.

"Yes." Michael answers.

Good, he actually stopped toiling long enough to eat something this time, you think to yourself.

He stops writing again, seeming to ponder your simple question. He squints at the paper, and then looks up to the left. Not at anything in particular, but trying to remember if he actually did.

"I mean no. No, I haven't." he says. You roll your eyes. He can never think about anything else when he's panicking over a song, you think.

"Do you want me to make you something?" you ask.

"I'll eat later. I need to finish this," he says, going back to scribbling on the paper.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out and check it. A text from one of your best friends, inviting you out. You figure that since Michael will probably be pacing around the house trying to finish the song all day, you might as well spend some time with your friends.

"I'm gonna go out shopping, okay?" you say. "I'll be back later." You get out of you chair and put your bowl in the sink.

"Okay." Michael says, probably not registering what you actually told him. You're rather frustrated that he's essentially ignoring you. You start to leave the kitchen.

"Wait," Michael says. You turn around to face him. He gets up out of the chair and walks up to you. He puts his large hands on your waist and kisses you tenderly.

"I didn't get to kiss you goodbye," he says, smiling sweetly. You smile back, and then head upstairs to get dressed.

After a few hours of the mall with your friends, you return home, exhausted. You made sure to stop at KFC on the way home because you already know Michael is probably going to be frustrated and in need of cheering up when you get back.

You walk in the door to find Michael sitting cross-legged on the floor against the back of the couch.

Still writing on the notepad.

"Still not done?" you ask. Michael drops the notebook and pen and puts his head in his hands.

"Nope." he says, sounding defeated. He looks up at you. He looks tired and upset.

"I think you should take a break, Michael. You've been working all day." you say. He runs a hand through his hair.

"But they want it done by tomorrow, and I'm almost finished, I just have to-" he immediately stops rambling when you crouch down and hold out the bucket of chicken. He grins and grabs it from you. He wastes no time taking a piece and devouring it.

"I didn't realize how hungry I was." Michael says. "Thank you, Y/N."

"No problem," you say. You brush his hair out of the way and kiss his forehead. He smiles.