𝓫𝓮𝓭𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓷𝔂 ⎯⎯ ♡ what if 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 unexpectedly fell 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮, just as the whole world was falling more & more in love with him? this is a...
When you imagined Michael in your office, it was never like this.
You had imagined him there more times than you would ever admit, usually those nights, after midnight, when your eyes burned from staring at the same numbers and even the thought of returning to an empty apartment felt exhausting. In those nights, he appeared because he missed you and because he wanted to pull you away from your desk and make the rest of the world wait for once.
So no, never like this.
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He was never wearing sunglasses and an outfit that would make you catch your breath when you entered your meeting, that he was not supposed to be part of.
And he was certainly never standing on the other side of your office, hours later, while you tried to decide whether you wanted to kiss him or throw the cold cup of coffee beside your hand directly at his head.
The building had gone quiet because Tokyo's working day had ended hours ago, leaving the floor fully dark except for the lights inside your office, the biggest from the agency, and the thin strip of brightness now coming from the conference room down the hall, where he was, invisible to everyone else, including you.
"You shouldn't be here," you finally said something.
His mouth shifted slightly, not quite a smile. "That's not very nice."
"I'm not trying to be nice."
The way he looked, every single detail, made him appear even more out of place, like he was just in your imagination.
You could not see his eyes and that made everything worse. You wanted some indication of what he thought he was doing in that conference room and why you had nearly broken his fingers when you shook his hand afterward. Ok, not even close to that, but you definitely wanted to break something.
Instead, you had your own reflection staring back at you from the lenses: trapped in what you once believed would prove you could never disappear inside somebody else's life again.
Michael tilted his head. "Are you still working?"
You stared at him.
He seemed to reconsider the question. "I can see that you are."
"Excellent observation."
"It's so late."
"It isn't late in Los Angeles. In fact, the day is just starting."
"It's late here."
His gaze moved slowly across the office again. The coffee, the untouched food your assistant had left hours ago. Your fancy jacket over the back of the chair.
"How did you get in here, Michael? I mean, again..."
Michael's expression became suspiciously innocent.
