𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄.. - 𝐩𝐫𝐧 & 𝐦𝐣

chapter fifteen

Michael laid flat on his back in the large CT scan machine, thousands of thoughts running through his mind as Prince sat in his hospital room, unable to sit still, his mind running rampant with thoughts of if Michael would be okay.

Michael worried about himself. It seemed as though every time something went right, it went wrong not too soon after.

He laid in the machine for about 5 minutes before he felt the flat bed being pulled backward, Michael thankful that the CT was his last test for the day, and he would know what was wrong, or if something was wrong in maybe an hour.

Soon, he was back in his hospital room, greeted by Prince sitting in the chair by his bed. He was helped onto the bed by the nurses, as they re-hooked him up to the monitor to measure his heart rate, the steady rhythmic beeping returning as Michael let out a big sigh, kissing Prince's forehead.

"Did you eat?"

"Don't ask me about me. How were your tests?"

"They were pretty boring, my back hurts from laying so flat but I'm okay."

A few people had reacted to seeing Prince in the hospital, but they kept their distance, seeing his mental state, and already knowing about his no-nonsense attitude from other fans and interviews.

"When we get outta here we'll get you a massage on a beach."

"Where's the beach gonna be?"

"Trinidad."

"Can I bring my art stuff?"

"Of course."

A soft knock on the door brought their attention to the doctor standing at the door. A white man, his jet black hair pulled back by the blue scrub cap he wore, matching dark blue scrubs covering his body with white clogs.

"Hello, my name is Derek Shepard and I unfortunately have some very, very bad news."

Their hearts stopped, the moment seemingly frozen in time as tears welled in Michael's eyes, Prince twisting his lips to the left as his tears blurred his vision.

"I'm sorry to tell you, but Mr. Jackson you have glioblastoma. It's a very aggressive kind of brain cancer-"

"No he doesn't. He's fine." Prince cut him off, sniffling to hold back a swarm of tears that were threatening to fall from his eyes.

"Prince, come on. Let him speak." Michael sniffled, his eyes red from both exhaustion and tears, his throat tightening with each passing second.

"You have glioblastoma and there's a very rare chance or survival. Only 5% of patients make it past 5 years, even with chemo and radiation therapy. 25% of people survive for more than a year, and I've been faxed your sister's medical records and it appears as though she had the same thing. I'm so so sorry Mr. Jackson, but it appears as though your survival rate has already been lowered significantly by lupus found in your bloodstream."

Prince bit his inner cheek before twisting his lips to the side, his throat tight. Michael bit the corner of his lip, and he couldn't help but to break down. He had just gotten started. His art had taken off. He and Prince were back together. he had an apartment. This was just supposed to be a fever.

"I can give you a moment alone if you'd like." Doctor Shepard spoke, pursing his lips as Michael cried, his head in his hands as Prince ran his tongue over his teeth, sniffling before he nodded.

"That moment would be-- It would be greatly appreciated."

"It's no problem." He nodded, leaving them to themselves as Prince finally allowed himself to break down, a loud sob leaving his lips as he prayed this was a sick joke.

"I don't wanna die." Michael choked out, glancing over at Prince.

"You're not gonna die." He said, cracking a half-smile.

"Not when I need you here like this." He said, rising to his feet and hugging him, allowing Michael to stain his shirt with his tears.

He wondered how he was gonna tell Janet she was going to lose another sibling to cancer.

-END-

the way my nose is running rn is ridiculous. my throat fucking HURTS.