I nod. He’s putting two and two together. I can see the gears turning behind his eyes. He’s understanding what this means for me. He’s weighing the pros and cons of selfishness, thinking about what will happen if he asks me to stay.

And I hope he doesn’t. But at the same time, I hope he does.

Because if he does, I’ll find a way to stay. I know I will, no matter how stupid it is.

“I want you to know that if there were any other way, I would stay,” I whisper, feeling my throat close, like it’s trying to keep me from continuing to say what I know I have to.

“I know,” he whispers, squeezing my hand in his. “I’m not mad.”

“You should be.”

“Why?” he asks. “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself for me, Dre. What type of person would that make me? When you care about someone, you want what’s best for them. You want them to be safe and happy.”

“I am happy when I’m with you,” I argue.

“Oh, babe,” he whispers, stroking my cheek again. He presses his lips gently against my forehead. His lips stay pressed against my flesh, like he’s marking my skin with his touch. “Do me a favor,” he says when he pulls back. “Just one thing.”

“Anything,” I promise.

“Be happy. Find a way to be happy. Don’t stop living. Don’t wallow or stay in bed or whatever you boys do in the future. Promise me that.”

“I promise,” I swear. “But you have to promise to do the same. Keep up with your music. Write a book. All of those things. Live your life. Whatever form it takes.”

“Oh, I most definitely will,” he says confidently. “I mean, who knows, maybe in school you’ll be assigned to read my great American novel. See what you’re passing up on, Dre? The next…”

“Joan Didion?”

He grins and nods slowly. “Exactly.”

“I’m serious, Michael. You have to promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll keep working hard,” I urge. “I’ve seen your—”

Michael holds his hand up. “If you’re going to say you’ve seen my future, I don’t want to know.”

“But—”

He shakes his head. “No, Andre. Seriously. That’s for me to find out, not for me to know. And who knows, maybe it won’t happen. The future isn’t set in stone, right? And I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t be trying to change the past anyway, yeah?”

“Rule number three,” I recite.

“Exactly. So how about this? You let me walk my path. You’ll walk yours. And we’ll just enjoy this moment and not worry about the future. Deal?”

“Deal.”