╭─────────╮
𝑂𝑛𝑖𝑘𝑎
╰─────────╯
"Amor de mi vida," I pronounce, entering the living room and sitting beside Beyoncé as she finished up some schoolwork. I knew she was struggling so I came to help. "What are you working on?"
She sighed, leaning back in the couch cushions. "An essay. It's due tomorrow night and I honestly have no idea what I'm talking about." She chuckled, but I could hear the emptiness behind it. I take a good look at her face and frowned at the dark circles underneath her eyes. Reaching to touch her face, Beyoncé grabbed my arm and looked away from me.
"You haven't been sleeping? Bey, what's wrong?" She's been working her ass off to take care of everything and doesn't want me to help at all. I've tried to make her take a break, knowing that she would only continue to stress herself out if she didn't. However, she doesn't want to listen to me.
"It's nothing, dove. I promise, I'm perfectly fine." She was lying. Right to my face as if I didn't know her. As if I don't understand the pressure. I shook my head, closing the laptop and moving it to the side. Climbing into her lap, I cupped her face, pecking her lips over and over. "Take a break. Let me take care of you, do some of your assignments, I've been thinking of getting a job as well. You spoil me. Let me do the same for you."
"I can't let you do that, it's not right."
"But how? I want to help. The only thing I ever do is cook, clean and do my own schoolwork. I want to contribute in other ways. I literally lived off of my parents, I don't want to feel like a burden to you as well." I need to do something or I'll go crazy. I love Beyoncé, so much, but I need to help in some other way.
"No."
"Don't tell me no," I frowned, climbing off of her. "What is it, you don't think can do it?"
"I never said that–"
"Well, it sure as hell looks like you're thinking it. You don't think I can take care of you?" My whole mood was ruined. I really wanted to know if she thinks I'm incapable of doing everything that she does for me.
"It's not about you taking care of me, it's about me not wanting you to. I don't need you to get a job when your focus should be on college. I don't need you to worry about my grades because it's my job to keep them up. My mental health is perfectly fine, so please don't worry." She grabbed my hands and kissed my knuckles.
My face fell, she was lying about her mental health and it was disturbingly obvious. "Stop doing that."
"What, kissing you?" She
"No, the lying. Don't lie to me. I know you, so please just stop." I hate to have to basically beg her to tell me the truth. I don't understand why she won't just tell me what's wrong with her. "Are you still mad at me? I can understand if that's the reason why you don't wanna tell me, but I just wanna help. I promise, I wasn't going to–"
"I'm not mad."
"But you're being so dry, and I understand that you like being independent, but why let me live with you and not let me help you. I want to provide, too–"
"Drop it, Onika. I don't need you to do anything for me and I don't want you to. I brought you here so that you wouldn't have to be with those people you call your parents. Just enjoy yourself. If anything, that's what I want from you." She was pleading with me now, telling me that the conversation wasn't worth the trouble, but to me it was.
