A Loss For Words

(not) James

The diagnosis isn't set in stone, the doctors had said.

Brain disorders are never that clear cut.

But it was extremely rare in people Mia's age, they had said.

Then again, he's James Kim, and everything about him is pretty rare, isn't it?

Mia takes it surprisingly well. She researches and researches for days and comes to the conclusion that all things considered, it's not that bad.

"All the research and case studies say my symptoms won't start getting really problematic for a few years, maybe longer," she says. "I'll still be able to write your songs and watch your career grow for a decade and—"

"Do you think I give a shit about any of that?" he yells, because he is not taking it well. "Do you really think I give a shit about whether or not you'll be able to write my fucking songs for me? You think I give a shit about any of that when you're telling me you have only ten years?"

She raises her eyebrows in surprise. "James, I—"

He collapses in a chair and buries his face in his hands. He sits there, trying to breathe, trying to fight the instinct to break down, even though that's all he's wanted to do for days now, and then he feels her hands on his.

He allows her to take his hands and she pulls them away from his face. She pushes him back a bit and then climbs into his lap and he immediately wraps his arms around her waist as she slowly circles hers around his neck. He buries his face in her hair and her embrace around him tightens and she's whispering, "it's okay, James, it's okay," and he just can't anymore.

He cries into her neck like he's five years old and she rubs his back softly, her other hand reaching into the hair at the nape of his neck.

"You're going to forget me," he chokes out. "You won't remember my name, Mia, and we're—"

"I won't forget," she promises, even though she can't, not really. "I won't."