Three months later
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Beyoncé's POV
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"Hey Mrs. K!" I greet Michael's mother, walking into the living room. She's reading a book, as always. Every time I come over, Mrs. K is either cleaning, cooking, or reading. I walk over to her, dropping my bag next to the couch and I kiss her cheek.
When she notices me, she puts her book down, making sure to save her page.
"Hey, honey bee!" She says, a smile spreading across her face. "You two studying again?"
Honey bee is a nickname Mrs. Jackson gave to me a while back. For the short time I converse with her, I always make sure to be polite.
She always says I'm sweet, like honey.
"Yes, ma'am." I chuckle, grabbing onto my backpack. "Michael is probably already upstairs waiting for me in his room, so I'm gonna go now. I might stay for dinner, I hope it's not a problem."
"It's not a problem with me. You two have fun, now." She says, picking up her book again.
I walk upstairs, heading to Michael's room.
"Hey, Michael." I say, opening the door.
He's sitting in his bed, stomach down writing something.
"Hey." He says, closing a white notebook with a sunflower on the cover of it. He sits upright.
"What's that?" I ask, sitting on his bed next to him.
"Oh. It's nothing, really. Just my poetry book. I-I write on it when I get bored.
"I like the sunflower." I tease.
Michael laughs. "It's a favourite flower of mine."
"Do you mind if I read a few of your poems?" I ask. I'm really interested.
He hands me his notebook and looks away. "Please don't laugh."
"Of course not!" I scoff.
I flip the book open to a random page. The poem is titled 'Peter Pan'.
I read the poem and begin to tear up a bit. It's about wanting to live forever and never growing up. The way it's worded and put together makes it a tear jerker.
"You wrote this, Michael?" I ask, look at the poem and then him. It seems as if a different person wrote this. Michael is usually so happy, optimistic and giggly, meanwhile the subject of the inevitability of death but wanting to live forever is something that I would even think to associate with Michael at all.
"Yes." He answers. "...you don't like it, do you."
"No! It's beautiful!" I quickly reassure. "It's just that... this doesn't seem like something you'd write. You're so young and you have a long life to live, so this poem just seems so out of character for you to write."
"I know I may be seventeen but—" Michael hesitates. "Never mind."
"What's wrong, Michael?" I ask, confused at the sudden shift in the atmosphere of the room.
I feel bad for asking to read his poems now.
"I'm... sick." He whispers.
"You're what?" I begin to feel a weird feeling in my stomach. Sadness? Panic? Anxiety?
"I'm sick." He repeats. I don't say anything. All I do is look at him, prompting him to continue.
Michael breathes in deeply.
"I have a heart condition." He begins.
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Michael's POV
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"I have this thing called hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, HCM for short. It's basically where my heart grows at an abnormal rate. Doing physical activity and things that increase my heart rate make my condition worse as it is." I look at Bey, seeing a tear run down her cheek.
"Do you know how long you have?" She asks, more tears running down her cheeks.
"No. There's no solid number as to how long I'll live. My dad had HCM too and he died at 47 years old. Maybe I'll live even longer." I reply, wiping a tear off her cheek with my thumb.
An awkward silence lingers between the two of us.
"I'm sorry." I whisper.
"What are you sorry for, Michael? You didn't-"
"I'm sorry for not telling you sooner." I interrupt. "I was scared that you weren't gonna feel the same way about me once you found out that I could literally die on you."
"I don't want you to feel any pity for me either. I've come to terms with who I am and my condition. I'd love to live forever, but forever doesn't last too long. You can try to believe it, though."
"If trying doesn't work, then I guess I'll just have to face that forever doesn't last. Right along with you." Beyoncé says, avoiding eye contact with me.
An awkward silence forms.
"Hey, I hope you know that I'm sticking with you no matter what condition or problems you have." She reassures me.
I smile a little. "Thanks."
"Now," Beyoncé says clapping her hands together. "Why don't we start studying for this math test, shall we?"
"That sounds like a great idea." I smile.
•
"Please, don't remind me!" I groan. Mother, Beyoncé and I are all sitting at the dinner table, eating and chatting. Of course Bey decided to bring up the first time we studied together.
"He was so shy and quiet. He was the absolute cutest, really." Bey says to mother.
I nudge her and tell her to stop but her and mother only laugh.
"Oh my, gosh. Mrs. K, you should have seen him when he came to my place and met my parents for the first time. He was a mess!" Bey says, looking at me and suppressing a laugh.
I hear mother chuckle and I look at her in disbelief. "Ma!" I drawl.
This is so embarrassing.
"Aw, she's just teasing Michael." Mother says, smiling.
"I should tease my foot up her ass." I mumble.
I'm guessing Bey heard me because she throws a string bean at my head the next moment.
"Michael, Beyoncé." Mother interrupts our childish antics, looking at the two of us.
"Sorry." We both say at the same time.
She's lucky mother stopped us because I was just itching to grab my spoon and fling my green peas at her.
"So, are you two full or is there room for dessert?" Mother asks, standing up.
"There's definitely room in my tummy." Beyoncé laughs.
"Mine too." I chime in.
"I hope you both like apple pie!" Mother laughs, picking up the plates from the tables.
"Can I stay here forever?" Bey asks, looking at my mother, with the most convincing face ever.
We all laugh, awaiting dessert.
YOU ARE READING
forever don't last • mj
Fanfiction"Forever doesn't last too long. You can try to believe it, though." "If trying doesn't work, then I guess I'll just have to face that forever doesn't last." - Michael Jackson, a seventeen year old boy who was diagnosed with a heart disease called...
