[Michael's POV]
I didn't go to school today, not after crying all night in Mom's arms — which should've been the other way around.
She's the one who's sick, not me. She's the one who should be breaking down, asking for comfort, not holding me while I fall apart like a little kid who doesn't understand what's happening. But I do understand. I just don't want to.
Today, she had to go back to the hospital for more rounds of chemo and to get ready for the surgery. She didn't even bother trying to convince me to go to school — not with my status as still the new guy. I think she knew I wouldn't go anyway. Or maybe she just didn't have the strength to care about something as small as attendance anymore.
When she left, she smiled like it was no big deal — told me to eat breakfast, keep the house tidy, and maybe even study a little. She always says it like we're living an ordinary life. Like she's not fighting something that's slowly eating her away till she's gone from us.
*Ping *
My phone buzzed beside me, the screen lighting up with a message.
Jay: Skipping school, are we?
I stared at it for a second before a small laugh slipped out — quiet but real. Trust Jay to text something like that, that's just how he is, something I've noticed from the day we became friends.
I could almost picture him grinning at his phone, half-listening in class, probably dodging the teacher's eye while typing. The thought made me laugh again — softer this time. It felt strange, laughing when everything else felt so heavy.
Michael: Just giving myself a day off from all the stress of school.
Three dots blinked on the screen before his reply popped up.
Jay:You mean from Ms. Porter's pop quizzes? Can't blame you.
I laughed again, but the truth wasn't pop quizzes. Not even close. Skipping school had nothing to do with tests or teachers. It was everything else — the empty house, Mom back at the hospital, the way I already knew she was going to look worse after chemo like last year. That's what made it hard to get out of bed.
Jay: You okay, man?
I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. Did he really want the truth? Could I even put it into words?
Finally, I typed back, keeping it casual.
Me: Yeah… just tired of school, I guess.
I stared at the message after sending it, feeling the lie settle in my chest. Tired of school. That's all I said. Not the part about Mom, not the part about the hospital, not the nights I can't stop thinking about what's happening to her because I feared that if I wrote it down, it might manifest and be even worse.
Three dots blinked again.
Jay: Fair enough. Pop quiz dodging is exhausting.
I laughed quietly to myself. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Enough to make me forget, for a second, that my world wasn't slowly falling apart again.
Jay: I'll catch you later, teacher's coming.
Michael: Yeah.
I glanced at the clock on the wall and froze. "Wait… It's already this late?" My stomach growled in protest, reminding me I hadn't eaten anything since morning. Ugh. "I need to go fix something to eat," I muttered, heading for the kitchen.
______________________________________
"Dad, you have to eat something. It's already late," I heard Joey call from my parents' room.
"I still have more things to do, son. It isn't ready yet… I'm sorry, close the door," my dad replied, his voice tired but insistent.
"You always say that, but you need to eat. Mum warned you," Joey insisted.
I didn't bother checking; it was going to be the same whether I got involved or not. He always said he was close, but it never seemed to be the case. My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn't eaten either.
I was halfway through my sandwich when Joey stormed into the kitchen, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. "Ugh… Dad still hasn't eaten, and it's so late. I don't get why he keeps doing this."
I nodded, taking another bite. My stomach rumbled again, but I stayed quiet, knowing there was nothing I could do to change him. He's been like that since mum was first diagnosed with cancer.
Joey flopped into a chair across from me, running a hand through his hair. "I just… I wish he'd listen sometimes. It's like he thinks he's invincible or something."
"He only listens to mum, there's nothing you can do about it" I said hoping he wouldn't blame himself for dad refusing to eat.
"I know… I just wish he didn't look like he—" Joey trailed off, grimacing.
He didn't need to finish the sentence because I already knew what he wanted to say.