Our Final Bow; oc + male reader

𝐨𝐧𝐞 | 𝐨𝐟𝐛

Your father, whom was more than joyous over a  few months ago, was now bed ridden and sick; "Take over the company, son," he told you. You started to cry with a few sniffles here and there, you cried 'no' and 'I can't' over and over again, not ready for your father to leave you as your mother had done a year earlier.

"just in case, [name]. Please, for me and you mother."

Your father's eyes weren't vibrant, they were dull. Before, they were never full–never. He told you after you had written your signature on the contract that he'd been having dreams of a woman, your mother, but he couldn't seem to remember her name.

"It's always on the tip of my tongue," he joked, coughing in between his laughs, "Your mother.. What was her name?" Your father's memory is fading and there's nothing you can do but provide him with answers.

"Angeline, dad, her name was Angeline." Your words came out hoarse and raspy, you grabbed onto his hands with a soft but firm grip, not even daring to let go for a second.

"Brunette, isn't she? Brown eyed, chubby, beautiful smile with one dimple and she always had her hair tied back in a bun." he mumbled, reminiscing about your mother and her childish ways.

"..Son, why isn't she here right now?"

"She's," You didn't want to say it, it hurt so, so much to say it. 'She's here,' You wanted to say, but you couldn't. You knew she was gone and she's never coming back. "somewhere special. Waiting for you." A smile. For the first time in months, a joyful smile produced on his face.

After giving him his food for the day, turning on the T.V. and staying with him until he slept, you took the contract in your hands, waved goodbye to the workers who knew you and left the hospital, hopefully headed home to your roomie: Rebecca Lionheart.