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"WHAT ARE YOU WRITING?" Brixton looks over at his mother, from his spot in the recliner chair next to her. He had just woken up from a small nap.
Susannah turns her gaze to look at her son. "Letters to you and your father."
"Mom, you're going to be okay." Brixton sighs, siting up. "You don't have to write us letters."
"I know." Susannah gives him a small smile. She didn't have it in her heart to tell him how she knew her time was coming to an end. "It's just in case."
"Mhm." Brixton hums. He didn't want to even think about the possibility that his mother might lose her battle. The thought scared him. He was scared.
Susannah eyes him, she could see the way his mood dropped. She moves over before patting the space next to her. "Come here."
Brixton didn't have to be told twice. He quickly moved next to her on the bed, laying into her side. He's taking advantage of every moment he gets to be in her arms. To be in her comforting arms.
The teen lays his head on her chest as she goes to speak. "I just want you to be prepared. There's a chance things won't go the way we want it too and—."
"Mom, please..." Brixton leans into her side further, only wanting to shake off the sad feeling.
"I just want you to be ready and strong, okay?" Susannah runs her hands through her boy's hair. "Especially for your father."
"I know." Brixton whispers, fighting back tears.
"I love you, my special boy." Susannah places a soft kiss on his head.
"I love you more, Mom." Brixton clings to her.
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"What you thinking about over there?" Baxter's voice brings Brixton out of his thoughts.
Brixton looks up at Baxter, who sat at the edge of the bed, throwing one of Brixton's shirts on. Brixton eyeing him, he looked so good. "You."
