Nineteen-year-old, Bea Somerton, knows exactly how she wants to live. Become a doctor, remain in remission from her childhood Leukaemia and have a happy, normal, life.
The last thing she expects is to meet rising star and troubled musician, Holden P...
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Seven years later
Holden
To the boy who taught me the importance of living,
I wish that I could be there for every show and every highlight. But just know I'll always be thinking of you when you're on stage. I'll always be with you in some way.
The distance may keep us seperate physically, but just know, when you put your hand to your beating heart, that mine is somewhere too; beating as rhythmically perfect as yours.
Whilst I wait patiently to kick cancers ass, you better be out there on stage showing the world how bad-ass my boyfriend, the cool musician, truly is.
Good luck on your tour, hot-shot. I'll be waiting for you.
Always,
Bea x
After I've re-read the letter for the fifth time today, I fold it delicately, aware of the crumples filling the seven-year-old note. I tuck it into the pocket of my black jeans, patting it safely inside.
My seven year good luck charm; my tradition. Before every show, before any public event, I read her note. A reminder. A reminder of the triumph, the loss and the hardships. The battles we faced together and the connection engraved into my heart.
I remember the day she'd written the note. So sick as she came close to her last chemo session. How I'd met her in the hospital room and she'd covered the sheet of paper instantly.
"Another bucket list?" I smirk.
"Not quite," she grins, her skin sunken but her eyes still shining brightly. "You can't look yet."
"Why so secretive, huh?" I reach for the paper playfully, but she covers it with her palms, scolding me.
"Holden...just you wait. You'll be able to read it soon."
"Okay. I'll wait. For you."
I lean over the vanity basin, the mirrors lights blinding me as I find my reflection in the mirror. I can hear Declan playing his opening set on stage; the sound reverberating through my dressing room.
The connotations associated with her note still hurt. How I'd watched her get sicker and sicker back then. How she remained strong through it all.
