A New Kind Of Love//Book 2

Chapter Twenty-two: Blackbird

May 20th, 1994

Prince's POV

I had taken a liking to reading baby books at night, since Michael insisted that I read up, our baby was supposed to be difficult.

My head rested on a stack of parenting books, I shifted in the uncomfortable plastic chairs that now held my sleeping body. I let my hands graze over my resting eyes, rubbing them slightly.

My sleep was interrupted by quiet weeping coming from the bathroom. The door was closed and the tiniest bit of light seeped out from under the cracked door.

I pulled the thin wooly blanket over my shoulders. Shielding my eyes from the early morning sun, I got up and shuffled over to the bathroom door to open it, my bones stiff.

I turned the knob delicately, the door creaked open to reveal a slumped over Michael. Tears streamed down his cheeks, they were already stained from the tears.

It caught me off guard, his glassy, sad eyes. Ever since Francis was born he had become distant, his emotions just not there. He wouldn't speak a word to me about anything.

I bent down, wrapping my arms around his shaking body, the blanket fell to the tiled floor. "Let it out." I coaxed, bring his head to the crook of my neck, his tears stained my rumpled shirt.

"I'm such a bad parent." He said through gritted teeth, balling his fists in anger, his eyes filled with hatred.

"No you're not, okay? You're a great parent." I sufficed, running my hands through his matted curls. He really was, every moment he had available to spend time with Francis, he sung to him, rocked him. Learning about how to take care of him.

Michael leaned back against the wall, burying his head in his hands, his curls fell down his shoulders. "I couldn't even carry a child correctly- I'm a fuck up!"

I turned his face so his eyes met mine, he looked so delicate in that small moment. "Bullshit!" He flinched, "Francis is fine and sometimes these things happen." I felt bad for exploding like that; I ran my fingers through his matted hair; but I couldn't bear to watch him sit there in a puddle of his own sorrow.

He started to calm down, his breathing slowing, I patted his shoulder. "Do you wanna go down and see him?" I asked, giving him a slight smile.

"Y-Yeah." He answered, voice still wobbly. I took his hand, he squeezed it as I pulled him up. I hugged him reassuringly, breathing in his cinnamon scent.

We walked down the bustling hallway, people were being wheeled around in wheelchairs, nurses yelled incoherent things loudly, I pulled Michael closer to me.

We arrived at the NICU, I could see Francis sleeping in his little incubator. A little blue hat was in his head, the tubs still coming in and out of his poor little body.

Michael presses his hand to the glass, his already large doe eyes, widening with a strange mixture of grief and pure happiness. "I love him." He whispered, lips barley moving.

"I love him too." I mumbled, taking my boyfriends hand.

--

Michael resided in the hospital room, he had pulled a doctor in the room to ask a few questions. They were doing a full on lesson about how to take care of a premature baby.

I hurried down the hallway, weaving my way through clusters of bodies. The door was in view, the floral scrubs clad nurse opened the wooden door for me.

I slipped into the NICU, going straight for Francis. We had placed a small rainbow hat on him, instead of the blue boring one that was on earlier, for shits and giggles.

I sat down in a small lumpy chair with a triangular pattern on it, a nurse handed me out what seemed like our little glass baby.

Francis steed up at me, big brown eyes curious. His little hand, no bigger than my finger nail, wrapped around my finger. The corners of his little mouth twitched, turning up into a pretty smile. It was like a tiny replica of Michael's, it made my heart skip a beat.

"Are you happy Francy?" I cooed, he was just so precious, I generally thought babies were annoying and loud but this little darling was amazing.

I started to hum, rocking Francis back and forth, his vast cinnamon colored eyes followed my swaying figure

"Blackbird singin' in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise." I continued sing quietly, his eyes started to droop, his breathing slowed down.

He was my little blackbird.

END