Take Me For A Walk In The Morning Dew - The Second Trimester
Pairing: OnHo
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: male pregnancy
The First Trimester (part 2/2)
13 Weeks
The younger had to admit Onew was right - hiding a baby or a child was impossible. It also happened to apply to baby bumps, Minho had noticed, over the past few weeks. The sweater he was wearing was way too warm to be worn in the mild November fall, but he didn’t exactly have a choice.
It was either that, or shouting, “I’m pregnant” to the rest of the world.
Onew’s mother was sitting right across him, smiling as Onew was talking about work. He’d been promised the spot on the 16th floor a few days earlier, but it was still supposed to be a secret for at least another month until the man officially retired.
“They’re going to announce his successor a week before he retires and then the successor’s spot has to be filled and so forth. But the truth is they have it all figured out, they just don’t want to seem too eager about him leaving - no one ever liked him.”
Onew’s father nodded, brows furrowed as he listened to his only son speak, the food on his plate almost untouched. The older’s mother seemed a little less interested in office politics and a lot more interested in secretaries and female colleagues as she cross examined Onew about any possible future girlfriends.
“What about you Minho? A handsome young man like you shouldn’t have trouble finding a nice girl, but I’ve never heard my son mention you’re dating. He’s not dating is he?” She looked at Onew but didn’t give him a chance to answer before she offered to set up the younger on a date. “I know the perfect girl for you.”
Yeah, Minho had heard that one before.
“No thank you, Mrs. Lee.”
“Mom, he doesn’t need your services.”
“I can’t understand how two handsome young men haven’t found girlfriends already. You haven’t dated since college, it’s been years.” The elder’s mother looked devastated, as if her happiness depended on her son finding a wife.
Which, knowing her, it probably was.
Onew’s father merely directed his attention to the almost cold food on his plate, ignoring his wife and her antics. She was pouting in a way Minho thought no woman her age should, her lower lip protruding; her eyes cast down.
Minho knew Onew had been waiting for the right moment the whole evening, going along with his mother chitchat in hopes of finding a good spot to start off. Or rather, a good spot to drop the bomb. And his mother had just offered that to him on a silver platter.
The younger was sure the silent ticking of the clock on the wall had never been so loud, the echo of it bouncing off the counter and floor and resonating through the dishes placed inside the kitchen cabinets and on the table. He could hear the beating of his own heart too, and the sound of air rushing in and out of his lungs.
“I’m dating. I’ve been dating for a long time.”
He watched as Onew’s mother’s face lit up in what must have been the brightest smile he had ever seen on her, before scolding her son for keeping it from her.
“Why haven’t you told us? I’ve worked so hard to find girls for you and here you are hiding one from me. Is it because you’re embarrassed by us?”
“I’m sorry, but we agreed to keep it a secret.” Onew’s hand found Minho’s under the table, intertwining their fingers and giving a reassuring squeeze.
“Well? What’s her name? Do we know her? I bet it’s some girl from university. Is she pretty?”
“Mom, dad.”
Minho’s pulse was racing as he watched the older put down his silverware with a solemn expression. There was a definite change in the atmosphere, as his parents looked up, Onew’s usually chatty mother quieting down. There was a moment of silence as Onew weighed his words, the ones he had decided to use earlier sounding foreign in his mouth.
“Me and Minho have been dating for two and a half years.” The room was so silent Onew could hear the dust particles flying trough the air. His parents looking at him in shock for a long time before their eyes turned to Minho, as if seeing him for the first time.
Which in a sense they were, he used to be Onew’s roommate, and good friend from university, now he was his boyfriend.
“Oh.” His mother’s painted lips formed the word and stayed in position long after the sound died out.
“Well, I told you to leave him alone.” The older’s father was the first one to break the silence. Stuffing a spoonful into his mouth and swallowing. “Didn’t I say he would find someone without you setting him up with all daughters the women in the knitting club have?”
“I was just trying to help! How was I supposed to know our son likes men?”
“I don’t like men, and I love Minho.” Onew’s parents paid him no attention as they continued to quibble.
“Also, we have something else to tell you.” The older had to clear his throat loudly and repeat his words once more before his parents’ full attention was back to the couple sitting across the table rather than each other.
Minho could feel the few bites of food he had managed to swallow turn in his stomach, the nausea lifting its head once again. His boyfriend wasn’t any calmer, his palm sweaty against Minho’s where the entwined hands lay hidden from view in the younger’s lap.
The couple was getting impatient, way too many ticks on the clock having passed since Onew had spoken.
“A-are you getting married?” The older’s mother eyed their hands, stretching her neck slightly as if she was hoping the extra centimeter would make it possible to look under the edge of the table or give her x-ray vision.
“I wish.” The murmur was quiet, but so was the room as well, and no one missed the words slipping out of Onew’s mouth. Minho felt his cheeks tint pink at the suggestion, and then red at the older’s words.
The older moved their hands up against Minho’s belly, fingertips grazing against the baby before he spoke.
“Minho is pregnant.”
The younger had imagined it a thousand times, going over the scenario in his head; replaying the lines and the facial expressions and the emotions those simple words would cause.
He’d refrained though, from imagining how it would have been to tell his own parents; to wonder if his father would have congratulated them, or if his mother would have smiled the way she did when she was truly happy.
But as he felt Onew’s mother wrap an arm around his shoulder and another around his boyfriend’s he couldn’t help it; and the one emotion he could feel wasn’t happiness, or even relief that the older’s parents took it so well, it was envy - because his father would never silently accept it like Onew’s, and his mother would squeal like a teenage girl while she hugged him.
Didn’t he deserve to have his parents accept him as well?
And then he was jealous and there was another emotion quickly forming and he didn’t even want to give it a name because he wasn’t supposed to feel like this. But he hated Onew right now.
He’d lost everything because of him, but Onew still had it all. And he was never going to loose it.
The chair almost toppled over when Minho abruptly stood, startling everyone around the table. He would have apologized but his food was already halfway up to his mouth and he couldn’t speak, only hurry to the bathroom.
He made it just in time, emptying the content of his stomach, a simple dinner Onew had prepared because Minho had been too busy pacing around the living room and pulling his sweater down, making sure it was covering the bump, before he slumped down next to the bathtub and leaning his head against the tiled wall.
He wiped the tears on his cheeks away with the sleeves of his sweater as a choked sob passed his lips and he hoped the happy family outside couldn’t hear him. He didn’t want them to see him like this, crying over someone else’s happiness because he wanted it to himself.
He was so selfish.
How could he?
-
“Is he okay?” Onew’s mother looked up at her son as she washed the dishes, worry written all over her face.
“He’s just…he was very worried. I told you his parents don’t speak to him.” And the older’s mother nodded, suddenly understanding why the younger had broken off contact to his parents. She dried off her hands in the green towel hanging off of one of the cupboard doors before she turned the tea water on.
“Shouldn’t you check on him?” And the older was really tempted to follow his mother's suggestion; to make sure Minho was alright but there had been something in the younger’s eyes that told Onew to leave him alone; to not disturb him, and he wasn’t about to go against his intuition.
18 weeks
It was early, way too early, and Minho just wanted to sleep; to roll over and bury himself deeper into the fluffy comforter and pillows. The sheets smelled so nice, and felt so soft against his skin but no matter how hard he tried to go back to that dream he was having (he forgot what it was about actually) he couldn’t ignore the persistent, yet gentle, shaking.
There was a warm hand on his shoulder and he could feel body heat against his back and he finally gave in, rolling onto his back and looking up through sleepy eyes at his boyfriend.
“Good morning, babies” The younger wouldn’t have been surprised if his boyfriends smile could have outshone the sun.
“Mornin’, hyung.” And he yawned, he’s body stretching on it’s own accord before he rolled to his side, facing Onew. His eyes drifted shut and he was close to falling asleep again. Except the older was on a mission (get Minho up) and he was soon shaken awake again.
He groaned; his nose scrunching up annoyance in and his eyebrows furrowing but there was no escaping the earthquake going on in their bed.
“What?!”
“Get up, sleepyhead. We’re going to be late.” He thought about getting up for a second, even raked his mind to try and remember what he could be late for, but then he remembered he was lying on a fluffy white cloud and he buried himself deeper, wriggling his body towards the foot of the bed until the comforter hit his nose.
“No, I wanna sleep.”
“No?” His boyfriend had always been hard to wake up (they had three alarm clocks and Onew always spent the evening hiding them at least three feet away from the bed so the younger would have to get out of his cocoon and turn them off, hopefully getting his butt into the shower and not the bed by the third one) and the older found it endearingly cute, but he had to get him up because they couldn’t be late.
“No.”
The mattress dipped as Onew moved closer under the covers, placing his head next to Minho’s on the younger’s pillow. His breath smelled like peppermint but he was still wearing his pajama bottoms, which meant he hadn’t gotten up so long ago himself.
“How about…” And Onew moved even closer, his chest almost touching Minho’s, “I make you?” And his hot breath made the younger squirm just a little bit.
Minho was just about to drift back to sleep when he felt something sneak past the elastic band of his pajamas and caress the skin on his thigh. The touch was soft and light, and the younger didn’t think much about it because his head was still a little hazy and his brain was still a little slow.
He moaned in appreciation when the hand moved on and wrapped around his soft member, slowly pumping it, bringing it to life. The angle was a little awkward, and there wasn’t much space between the two but Minho liked the closeness.
His eyes remained shut and he breathed in the older’s scent through his nose while he grew harder in the other’s hand. Soft lips pressed against his forehead; between his eyebrows and on the tip of his nose before he felt them against his lips.
And they kissed slowly, their lips slidding against each other while Onew’s hand was still moving inside Minho’s pants and the younger was hard now; his hips rocking into the older’s hand.
When Minho pulled back for air Onew attacked his long neck with a trail of kisses, starting right bellow his ear and nibbling and sucking his way down to his collarbone. And then he disappeared and Minho was pushed down on his back before his brain, now hazy with both sleep and lust, could catch on.
He faintly registered his pants being pulled down and then his cock disappeared into something wet and hot and the younger cried out, his back arching off the mattress.
He finally forced his eyes open, squinting at the light in the bedroom that seemed to have grown a thousand times stronger since a few minutes ago and he saw his boyfriend’s head, hidden from view by the comforter, bobbing up and down on his erection; sucking and licking it in all the right places.
The mental image of Onew’s lips stretched around his cock made him clench his teeth because it was too much, and it felt so amazing he didn’t want to come just yet.
And then the heat and wetness was gone, and Onew was back at Minho’s side, his lips a little swollen and glistening with saliva and precum. Minho whimpered in protest but the older just sat up and slid out of bed without a word, just a cheeky smile on his lips as he walked into the bathroom and left the door ajar.
The younger groaned, turning around and burying his face into the soft pillow that still smelled like Onew. That had to be the dirtiest trick in the book; even surpassing those damned alarm clocks he was looking for every morning.
“No fair.” The pillow muted his whining as he heard the shower being turned on.
“Are we going to finish or what?” The older still sounded way too amused for Minho to accept the offer but then he shifted and his rock hard cock rubbed against the sheets. He was out of bed faster than lightning, marching towards the bathroom door while he pulled his shirt off.
Steam was already forming in the small room as he kicked his bottoms off and pulled the shower curtain aside. Onew was standing with his back facing Minho; streams of warm water running down his naked body as he relaxed in the heat.
“That was so mean.” The older could practically hear the sulky expression in the other’s voice as Minho stepped in. The younger closed the distance between them with two steps, letting his head rest on Onew’s shoulder.
“I asked you nicely.” He was shoved playfully.
“Apologize.” Minho was still standing behind him, so close Onew could feel his hard member against his ass.
“To you?” And the older turned around, walking Minho backwards until the latter’s back hit the tiled wall behind him, “or to your dick?”
Minho wasn’t going to moan, no he wasn’t, and he wasn’t going to let Onew get away with leaving him lying in bed all hard and ready to come, but fuck all of his thoughts flew out of the window when the older wrapped his hand around his shaft again.
The hand was even warmer than before, no doubt from the shower, and it felt like fire as it moved up and down in a slow pace. The younger was moaning, writhing against the cold wall behind him, his hips thrusting into the older’s fist when the pace became too slow.
His breath hitched when Onew dropped on his knees and Minho was sure he was about to blow it right then and there but he miraculously managed to control himself. Onew’s lips wrapped around his shaft once more and Minho was in heaven, closing his eyes and focusing on nothing but the way the older’s hot mouth moved up and down; the way his tongue would trace the vein on the underside of his dick and dig into the slit at the tip and swirl around the head a few times before he was enveloped into the burning heat once more.
Minho came with a loud moan, spilling into Onew’s mouth as his knees trembled and white flashed behind his closed eyelids. The older kept sucking until he grew soft, completely spent, before he got back up on his feet again.
Maybe orgasms and hot showers weren’t the best idea because Minho’s body was heavier than before and he felt like he could fall asleep leaning on the wall. But Onew was kissing his neck, pulling the younger against him and into the shower.
-
The doctor’s office wasn't as scary the third time around and the couple sat down on a pair of empty chairs. There was an abandoned magazine next to Minho and he picked it up, skimming through glossy pages of baby fashion (Key would cover that, no doubt) and stopped at a scientific article about small children.
He had a habit of disappearing into his own world when he was reading and this time was no different. He didn’t hear his name being called until Onew pushed his shoulder gently, calling his name again. The younger looked up, startled and almost jumped in his seat when he saw Onew’s mother standing two feet from him.
“M-mrs. Lee.” His voice wavered and there was a look of confusion on his face because what was she doing here?
“Mom told me she came to see the baby. Mom, you could have called.”
The second part was directed towards the older’s mother, and he sounded slightly accusing while she looked a little embarrassed. She mumbled something about every grandmother wanting to see her grandchild and quickly moved to sit down.
The younger didn’t know what to make of the situation because she came by uninvited two evenings ago with a stew, not to mention the week before when Minho came back from his lectures only to find her vacuuming the living room. He tossed the magazine on the coffee table in the middle of the room and watched it almost slide of the edge.
Then the three of them sat in silence.
His name was finally called and he got up, followed by his little entourage as he entered the doctors office. Dr. Park looked a little taken aback but then she was smiling and the younger couldn’t help but wonder how often she had three generations in one room but he didn’t ask.
Mrs. Lee was hiding behind Onew’s back as Minho climbed up on the bed, cheeks turning a little pink because he’s okay with pulling his shirt up in front of his boyfriend, and Dr. Park is a professional, but the older’s mother is.. She’s… She could have called!
The gel was cold as always, and it smeared on the edge of his jeans but he refused to unbutton them or pull them any lower and thankfully Dr. Park didn’t suggest it either.
The monitor came alive and the younger momentarily forgot about the other woman in the room as he watched the screen, trying to locate the baby before Dr. Park pointed it out with a well-manicured finger.
The doctor mentioned something about development and sizes, and Minho briefly caught something about the baby being slightly bigger than an avocado, but he was too distracted by Onew’s mother who had inched closer and closer to the bed since the screen on the ultrasound had first lit up.
The younger threw his boyfriend a meaningful look over the woman’s shoulder, but Onew merely shrugged, looking apologetic. Minho couldn’t help but think the older had no backbone when it came to his mother, and he briefly wondered whether he should change the lock on the front door.
“Is it a boy or a girl?” The woman was practically leaning over Minho now, as she looked closer at the monitor.
“I can’t tell, ma'am, because of the position the baby is in.” And the woman finally stepped back, obviously disappointed. “Maybe next time.”
Minho was handed paper towels and he quickly wiped the blue gel off, ready for this to be over. Onew was handed a picture again, with the usual red circle drawn around the baby, and Minho couldn’t help but smile because he knew his boyfriend was going to frame that one as well, and put it on the shelf in their bedroom, next to the other two.
But then the woman is speaking again, asking Onew if she can have it since the doctor didn’t make two.
“Actually, we’re saving them for the baby album.” Minho snatched the picture from his boyfriend before Onew’s mother had a chance to, and stuffed it into his back pocket as he thanked the doctor.
22 weeks
It had to be done sooner or later, but unfortunately for Minho, he had waited until later. Until the very last moment, when he found himself lying on his back on the bed, pants pulled up to his hips.
He hadn’t been able to close them. Admittedly they had fit on very snug on Thursday morning, and the tightness had been a little uncomfortable but the point was they had fit. And now they didn’t. Not even when he took in a deep breath and asked the baby to kindly move out of the way.
How could he get so fat in five days?
And the worst part was they were his loosest jeans. The one’s he had accidentally gotten on a sale and hadn’t looked twice at the size only to come home and find out they were two sizes too big. No refunds, so he had kept them in the back of his closet.
And then they had finally become useful a few weeks back and now they didn’t fit.
He’d spent all morning lying on the made bed, half dressed and fuming.
He knew he looked good, but he’d never been vain, he worked out, yes, but mostly because he enjoyed it, and he made very little effort when getting dressed, and he didn’t spend hours styling his hair (like a certain someone he wasn’t going to name) but he did care just a little bit. And god damn it, he didn’t like looking like a whale!
A stranded whale, he decided, when he threw a sideway glance towards the floor length mirror hanging on the wall.
And so it had to be done, there was no other way, and he had really waited to the very last second because the button remained unbuttoned as he pulled down a sweater to cover the fact before pulling his thick winter coat on and leaving the apartment.
He stood in front of the shop three quarters of an hour later, looking at it with a sulky expression before he gathered up what was left of his pride and entered. It was a whole different world than the other shops he’d been to; all the mannequins sporting bellies like his and section after section filled with pants that would fit him - if he were female.
He wandered deeper in, locating the much smaller section for men, with not nearly as many colors and patterns and different cuts, but at least it was there, and he didn’t care if it was floral or striped (okay, so maybe not the floral), all he wanted was a pair of jeans that fit him. Maybe a pair of sweatpants, too, since those didn’t fit either.
“Do you need any help?” The voice startled him, almost making Minho drop the pair of pants he was holding. There was a sales clerk standing next to him and she must have been a ghost for sneaking up so close to Minho without him noticing.
The sales clerk was tall and skinny, almost as tall him, the shops uniform hanging a little too loosely on the small frame, but she was pretty with auburn hair framing her face and pale, flawless skin.
She smiled, her eyes turning into two cute crescents. The tag on the right side of her shirt read “Taemin” and Minho couldn’t help but feel bad about her parents naming a girl like a boy, especially when she lacked all the curves females usually had and stood almost as tall as him.
“I um…need bigger pants.” Taemin’s gaze flickered to Minho’s belly, calculating the size in her head before pulling out two pairs of jeans from the shelf.
“There are fitting rooms in the back.” She pointed him the direction before asking if she could help with anything else before leaving Minho alone.
He ended up going straight to the register instead of the fitting room; not bothering with the sizes because anything that was bigger than what he was wearing now would do for another few weeks (he hoped at least).
24 weeks
It would happen sometimes, very rarely though, but still it, would happen. They lived in the same city after all, and so it was inevitable for the two of them to run into one, or both, of Minho’s parents from time to time.
Like today.
The older was pretty sure he noticed Minho’s mother before his boyfriend did because the younger was still smiling and talking.
Onew liked to think he knew Minho well enough to know when he was faking it, and so he didn’t mention the woman three aisles down in the supermarket - if he was lucky the younger wouldn’t notice her at all.
“Which one do you want, hyung? Peppermint or Menthol?” The taller of the two held up two almost identical tubes, waiting for a reply.
“We had peppermint this time, right?” The younger nodded in reply and put one of the toothpastes back, dropping the one with the sparkly blue label into the cart.
“Menthol for a change then.” He scratched the item off the list. “Next is shampoo. And razorblades.” Onew followed Minho as he started walking down the aisle, throwing a look to see if the woman had already moved on.
She hadn’t, but she looked different; her hair was cut shorter and she was wearing an olive green coat that Onew had never seen before. Maybe Minho wouldn’t recognize her. The men’s shampoo shelves were far away from the lotion section she was standing at anyway.
“Hyung!” Minho appeared into his line of vision, his smile gone and his brows slightly furrowed, “You’re not paying attention. What are you thinking about?”
They were in the aisle now and the older looked over his boyfriends shoulder.
A mother could pick out the sound of her child’s voice anywhere - especially a child she hadn’t seen in months.
“Nothing, I was just thinking about work.” The shorter bent down to grab a bottle, the same brand Onew had been using for the past three years (ever since Minho had shyly told him his hair smelled good), hoping the other wouldn’t turn around because his mother was pretty much boring holes into her son’s back with her stare; lotion bottle in hand.
Had she noticed? But Minho was wearing a thick coat, and a long scarf that was hanging all the way down to his belly.
Minho was smiling at him as he straightened back up, dropping the bottle next to the toothpaste.
“What’s next on the list?”
“Toilet paper.”
“Minho?”
And a hurt child could recognize the voice of the parents who shunned him.
Onew watched the younger freeze, eyes going wide with shock as they were still locked on the grocery list in his hand. Then the emotion faded, transformed into another and the older felt like cursing the woman.
His boyfriend’s eyes grew empty, his facial expression carefully arranged into a mask void of emotion, under which Onew knew the younger was hiding all the hurt his mother had caused him.
“The toilet papers are in the next aisle.” Minho nodded at the words, and started walking without ever turning around. His mother was about to follow him when Onew stepped in front of her, blocking her way.
“Leave him alone.” He didn’t mean for it to sound as hostile as it did but the woman took a step back, looking up at him.
She looked a lot older since he had last seen her; there were bags under her eyes and her lips had lost their fullness, something she tried to cover up with lipstick and lip liner.
She may not have been the one who kicked him out, or cut all ties to him, but her lack of actions had hurt Minho more than his father had. Onew had all the right to be angry with her, too.
“I just…wanted to see him.” Her voice was quiet, her eyes following Minho as he walked among the aisles; longing to see her son, to talk to him.
There were a million things Onew wanted to say, perhaps even shout, but the grocery store wasn’t the place for that, especially not in front of Minho. So the older bit his tongue and turned the cart around, quickly walking to where Minho was standing in front of the toilet papers, a pack of twelve already in his hands, waiting for his boyfriend.
“You knew she was here.” Onew received an accusing look as the toilet paper was thrown in into the cart, knocking over a few other items.
“I saw her when we were picking out toothpaste.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“What good would have come out of that?” There was a moment of silence as the younger thought it over, realizing his boyfriend was right, his eyes not meeting Onew’s.
“Is she still there?” His facial expression looked exactly like his mother’s, his eyes finally meeting Onew’s and the older reached out to stroke Minho’s cheek gently.
“I told her to leave you alone.” The younger took a step forward, burying his face into the other’s jacket; his hands warping around the shorter’s frame, his round stomach pressing against Onew’s flat one.
“It’s okay.” The other male whispered, his hands stroking Minho’s hair. “We’ll get our things and go. She won’t bother us.” He felt the younger nod against his shoulder before pulling away, the expression on his face so sad Onew wanted to pull him back and never let go.
-
“She was what?” Key’s loud voice attracted the attention of the auditorium and the professor scowled in his direction.
“She was there, he saw her before I did.” Minho’s voice was barely above a whisper. “She called my name, but I didn’t turn around.”
“Your parents don’t even live that way.” The blond controlled his voice a lot better this time, his pen flying over the paper as he took notes. “Do you think she was there on purpose?”
The thought sent a chill down Minho’s back.
He had always suspected Onew had picked the location of their apartment to be as far away from where his parents lived, as to not bump into them more than necessary, and the brunette hadn’t even told the exact address to his brother the few times they spoke over the phone or met.
And the supermarket wasn’t the one his mother had been using for the last decade. Why had she been there then?
He didn’t like the thought of his mother wandering around his neighborhood at all.
“I don’t know.”
“Did she see?” Key’s eyes darted down to Minho’s middle, currently obscured from view by the big winter coat.
“I don’t think so, I was wearing the coat and a scarf.” The last thing he needed was his mother knowing about the pregnancy. He had a feeling she would hunt him down and come crawling on her knees begging for forgiveness.
There was nothing to forgive, though. He didn’t have a mother.
27 weeks
There were three large cardboard boxes stacked on top of each other next to the front door, ready to fall over the moment someone carelessly slammed the door shut to hard.
They were surrounded by half a dozen smaller ones, all filled to the brim, and some a little over, with things varying from old trophies (Minho’s) to broken electronics and old DVD’s (Onew’s). They’d previously been in the small office that came with the flat, but now Onew had been given the task to carry them to the basement of his parents.
There was a big unopened box standing in the middle of the living room, a picture printed out in cheap ink indicating it contained a crib. A bucket of paint had been placed on top of it, next to a brush.
Minho was sitting on the couch, watching as Key carefully applied tape to the doorframe of the office turned storage room about to be turned into a nursery and to the window. It was small, but big enough for a baby or a toddler and it would do, at least for a while until Minho graduated from university.
The couple had both agreed they’d buy a house in a child-friendly neighborhood (with a back yard, a school within walking distance and all that jazz) but neighborhoods like that stayed far away from campuses and the cheap student flats surrounding them.
The room had ended up looking bigger than they had originally guessed it to be anyway, stuffed full with things they never used, and Key, the interior design student that he was, had taken upon him the task of making it into a nursery with the help of Minho’s boyfriend, who was currently hauling boxes into his car.
The youngest stretched out comfortably on the couch, his pregnant stomach automatically prohibiting him from the awful task of packing and cleaning. Instead he watched Key bite of the last strip of tape with his teeth, placing it on the window frame before he stepped back and observed his work.
Once he deemed it good enough he opened the bucket of paint, pouring out a light yellow color into a plastic container. The smell of the liquid hit Minho’s nose almost instantly and he made a mental note to ask Onew to open all the windows in their apartment as soon as he came back, too comfortable to do it himself.
His eyes wandered over the messy living room once he became bored with the way Key would move the brush up and down in steady movements across the room. He’d gone shopping with Onew the week before with a long checklist of things they needed that he had printed out from online.
The two had been a little overwhelmed by the amount of choices (a hundred and two different cribs and three aisles of diapers) and it had taken them several hours to cover just half of the list. And now the living room was filled with cribs and changing tables and even a small baby bath (the kind with a plug, because apparently it made a huge difference).
Minho was jolted out of his musings by a sharp movement. The baby had started kicking a few weeks prior, a little later than the doctor had told them it would (and Minho had secretly worried for weeks until he had felt a fluttering movement, so weak it could have easily been mistaken for something else), but now it was kicking, and definitively making up for lost time.
“It’s kicking again.” Key’s head snapped towards the couch and he quickly put the brush down before he hurried to Minho’s side. The blond placed a hand over Minho’s belly, feeling the movement going on underneath the skin.
“Wow, it’s kicking so hard.”
“Like a football player.” Minho placed his hand next to Key’s as the other rolled his eyes.
“You would.”
“She always wakes me up in the middle of the night with the kicking. Four am, sharp.”
“She?”
“Or he.” And there was a moment of confusion because nobody knew the sex and the baby was always in a bad position when Dr. Park did an ultrasound check.
“I’m gonna repaint that room the moment you find out.”
“Be my guest.” It was no secret the blond hated the pale yellow color currently drying up in the container, and next to Onew’s mother (who’s plans of knitting Christmas gifts all the way to tenth grade had now been flushed down the toilet because she couldn’t choose the correct pattern) he was probably the most frustrated of them all.
“It’s good he’s finally moving, though.”
“Yeah.” And neither one had to say it, but they both knew how worried everyone had been for a while, with the baby being smaller than average and the obvious risks that came with male pregnancies.
“Everything will turn out great.” Minho didn’t know whom Key was trying to reassure, and it would have been a lot more convincing if the other hadn’t smiled so forcefully it almost looked like a grimace.
And the baby gave one last kick before it stilled, finding a comfortable spot inside Minho.
The First Trimester (part 2/2)
A/N: This is finally done. I finished it yesterday and sent it to my beta but she's disappeared and I don't feel like annoying her with text messages bcz some people have lives so I let someone else read it and assure me it was okay.
And I apologize for the weird writing, it's been written in parts and not in chronological order and my writing style is constantly changing so it's terribly miss matched >_<
And it's kind of short, but I really wanted to just post this, maybe I'll make up for it in the next part.
And layout was a complete bitch again and I had to fix this three times
P.S. My beta is alive (she was just having a life) and now all the small typos have been fixed. Yay~
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: male pregnancy
The First Trimester (part 2/2)
13 Weeks
The younger had to admit Onew was right - hiding a baby or a child was impossible. It also happened to apply to baby bumps, Minho had noticed, over the past few weeks. The sweater he was wearing was way too warm to be worn in the mild November fall, but he didn’t exactly have a choice.
It was either that, or shouting, “I’m pregnant” to the rest of the world.
Onew’s mother was sitting right across him, smiling as Onew was talking about work. He’d been promised the spot on the 16th floor a few days earlier, but it was still supposed to be a secret for at least another month until the man officially retired.
“They’re going to announce his successor a week before he retires and then the successor’s spot has to be filled and so forth. But the truth is they have it all figured out, they just don’t want to seem too eager about him leaving - no one ever liked him.”
Onew’s father nodded, brows furrowed as he listened to his only son speak, the food on his plate almost untouched. The older’s mother seemed a little less interested in office politics and a lot more interested in secretaries and female colleagues as she cross examined Onew about any possible future girlfriends.
“What about you Minho? A handsome young man like you shouldn’t have trouble finding a nice girl, but I’ve never heard my son mention you’re dating. He’s not dating is he?” She looked at Onew but didn’t give him a chance to answer before she offered to set up the younger on a date. “I know the perfect girl for you.”
Yeah, Minho had heard that one before.
“No thank you, Mrs. Lee.”
“Mom, he doesn’t need your services.”
“I can’t understand how two handsome young men haven’t found girlfriends already. You haven’t dated since college, it’s been years.” The elder’s mother looked devastated, as if her happiness depended on her son finding a wife.
Which, knowing her, it probably was.
Onew’s father merely directed his attention to the almost cold food on his plate, ignoring his wife and her antics. She was pouting in a way Minho thought no woman her age should, her lower lip protruding; her eyes cast down.
Minho knew Onew had been waiting for the right moment the whole evening, going along with his mother chitchat in hopes of finding a good spot to start off. Or rather, a good spot to drop the bomb. And his mother had just offered that to him on a silver platter.
The younger was sure the silent ticking of the clock on the wall had never been so loud, the echo of it bouncing off the counter and floor and resonating through the dishes placed inside the kitchen cabinets and on the table. He could hear the beating of his own heart too, and the sound of air rushing in and out of his lungs.
“I’m dating. I’ve been dating for a long time.”
He watched as Onew’s mother’s face lit up in what must have been the brightest smile he had ever seen on her, before scolding her son for keeping it from her.
“Why haven’t you told us? I’ve worked so hard to find girls for you and here you are hiding one from me. Is it because you’re embarrassed by us?”
“I’m sorry, but we agreed to keep it a secret.” Onew’s hand found Minho’s under the table, intertwining their fingers and giving a reassuring squeeze.
“Well? What’s her name? Do we know her? I bet it’s some girl from university. Is she pretty?”
“Mom, dad.”
Minho’s pulse was racing as he watched the older put down his silverware with a solemn expression. There was a definite change in the atmosphere, as his parents looked up, Onew’s usually chatty mother quieting down. There was a moment of silence as Onew weighed his words, the ones he had decided to use earlier sounding foreign in his mouth.
“Me and Minho have been dating for two and a half years.” The room was so silent Onew could hear the dust particles flying trough the air. His parents looking at him in shock for a long time before their eyes turned to Minho, as if seeing him for the first time.
Which in a sense they were, he used to be Onew’s roommate, and good friend from university, now he was his boyfriend.
“Oh.” His mother’s painted lips formed the word and stayed in position long after the sound died out.
“Well, I told you to leave him alone.” The older’s father was the first one to break the silence. Stuffing a spoonful into his mouth and swallowing. “Didn’t I say he would find someone without you setting him up with all daughters the women in the knitting club have?”
“I was just trying to help! How was I supposed to know our son likes men?”
“I don’t like men, and I love Minho.” Onew’s parents paid him no attention as they continued to quibble.
“Also, we have something else to tell you.” The older had to clear his throat loudly and repeat his words once more before his parents’ full attention was back to the couple sitting across the table rather than each other.
Minho could feel the few bites of food he had managed to swallow turn in his stomach, the nausea lifting its head once again. His boyfriend wasn’t any calmer, his palm sweaty against Minho’s where the entwined hands lay hidden from view in the younger’s lap.
The couple was getting impatient, way too many ticks on the clock having passed since Onew had spoken.
“A-are you getting married?” The older’s mother eyed their hands, stretching her neck slightly as if she was hoping the extra centimeter would make it possible to look under the edge of the table or give her x-ray vision.
“I wish.” The murmur was quiet, but so was the room as well, and no one missed the words slipping out of Onew’s mouth. Minho felt his cheeks tint pink at the suggestion, and then red at the older’s words.
The older moved their hands up against Minho’s belly, fingertips grazing against the baby before he spoke.
“Minho is pregnant.”
The younger had imagined it a thousand times, going over the scenario in his head; replaying the lines and the facial expressions and the emotions those simple words would cause.
He’d refrained though, from imagining how it would have been to tell his own parents; to wonder if his father would have congratulated them, or if his mother would have smiled the way she did when she was truly happy.
But as he felt Onew’s mother wrap an arm around his shoulder and another around his boyfriend’s he couldn’t help it; and the one emotion he could feel wasn’t happiness, or even relief that the older’s parents took it so well, it was envy - because his father would never silently accept it like Onew’s, and his mother would squeal like a teenage girl while she hugged him.
Didn’t he deserve to have his parents accept him as well?
And then he was jealous and there was another emotion quickly forming and he didn’t even want to give it a name because he wasn’t supposed to feel like this. But he hated Onew right now.
He’d lost everything because of him, but Onew still had it all. And he was never going to loose it.
The chair almost toppled over when Minho abruptly stood, startling everyone around the table. He would have apologized but his food was already halfway up to his mouth and he couldn’t speak, only hurry to the bathroom.
He made it just in time, emptying the content of his stomach, a simple dinner Onew had prepared because Minho had been too busy pacing around the living room and pulling his sweater down, making sure it was covering the bump, before he slumped down next to the bathtub and leaning his head against the tiled wall.
He wiped the tears on his cheeks away with the sleeves of his sweater as a choked sob passed his lips and he hoped the happy family outside couldn’t hear him. He didn’t want them to see him like this, crying over someone else’s happiness because he wanted it to himself.
He was so selfish.
How could he?
-
“Is he okay?” Onew’s mother looked up at her son as she washed the dishes, worry written all over her face.
“He’s just…he was very worried. I told you his parents don’t speak to him.” And the older’s mother nodded, suddenly understanding why the younger had broken off contact to his parents. She dried off her hands in the green towel hanging off of one of the cupboard doors before she turned the tea water on.
“Shouldn’t you check on him?” And the older was really tempted to follow his mother's suggestion; to make sure Minho was alright but there had been something in the younger’s eyes that told Onew to leave him alone; to not disturb him, and he wasn’t about to go against his intuition.
18 weeks
It was early, way too early, and Minho just wanted to sleep; to roll over and bury himself deeper into the fluffy comforter and pillows. The sheets smelled so nice, and felt so soft against his skin but no matter how hard he tried to go back to that dream he was having (he forgot what it was about actually) he couldn’t ignore the persistent, yet gentle, shaking.
There was a warm hand on his shoulder and he could feel body heat against his back and he finally gave in, rolling onto his back and looking up through sleepy eyes at his boyfriend.
“Good morning, babies” The younger wouldn’t have been surprised if his boyfriends smile could have outshone the sun.
“Mornin’, hyung.” And he yawned, he’s body stretching on it’s own accord before he rolled to his side, facing Onew. His eyes drifted shut and he was close to falling asleep again. Except the older was on a mission (get Minho up) and he was soon shaken awake again.
He groaned; his nose scrunching up annoyance in and his eyebrows furrowing but there was no escaping the earthquake going on in their bed.
“What?!”
“Get up, sleepyhead. We’re going to be late.” He thought about getting up for a second, even raked his mind to try and remember what he could be late for, but then he remembered he was lying on a fluffy white cloud and he buried himself deeper, wriggling his body towards the foot of the bed until the comforter hit his nose.
“No, I wanna sleep.”
“No?” His boyfriend had always been hard to wake up (they had three alarm clocks and Onew always spent the evening hiding them at least three feet away from the bed so the younger would have to get out of his cocoon and turn them off, hopefully getting his butt into the shower and not the bed by the third one) and the older found it endearingly cute, but he had to get him up because they couldn’t be late.
“No.”
The mattress dipped as Onew moved closer under the covers, placing his head next to Minho’s on the younger’s pillow. His breath smelled like peppermint but he was still wearing his pajama bottoms, which meant he hadn’t gotten up so long ago himself.
“How about…” And Onew moved even closer, his chest almost touching Minho’s, “I make you?” And his hot breath made the younger squirm just a little bit.
Minho was just about to drift back to sleep when he felt something sneak past the elastic band of his pajamas and caress the skin on his thigh. The touch was soft and light, and the younger didn’t think much about it because his head was still a little hazy and his brain was still a little slow.
He moaned in appreciation when the hand moved on and wrapped around his soft member, slowly pumping it, bringing it to life. The angle was a little awkward, and there wasn’t much space between the two but Minho liked the closeness.
His eyes remained shut and he breathed in the older’s scent through his nose while he grew harder in the other’s hand. Soft lips pressed against his forehead; between his eyebrows and on the tip of his nose before he felt them against his lips.
And they kissed slowly, their lips slidding against each other while Onew’s hand was still moving inside Minho’s pants and the younger was hard now; his hips rocking into the older’s hand.
When Minho pulled back for air Onew attacked his long neck with a trail of kisses, starting right bellow his ear and nibbling and sucking his way down to his collarbone. And then he disappeared and Minho was pushed down on his back before his brain, now hazy with both sleep and lust, could catch on.
He faintly registered his pants being pulled down and then his cock disappeared into something wet and hot and the younger cried out, his back arching off the mattress.
He finally forced his eyes open, squinting at the light in the bedroom that seemed to have grown a thousand times stronger since a few minutes ago and he saw his boyfriend’s head, hidden from view by the comforter, bobbing up and down on his erection; sucking and licking it in all the right places.
The mental image of Onew’s lips stretched around his cock made him clench his teeth because it was too much, and it felt so amazing he didn’t want to come just yet.
And then the heat and wetness was gone, and Onew was back at Minho’s side, his lips a little swollen and glistening with saliva and precum. Minho whimpered in protest but the older just sat up and slid out of bed without a word, just a cheeky smile on his lips as he walked into the bathroom and left the door ajar.
The younger groaned, turning around and burying his face into the soft pillow that still smelled like Onew. That had to be the dirtiest trick in the book; even surpassing those damned alarm clocks he was looking for every morning.
“No fair.” The pillow muted his whining as he heard the shower being turned on.
“Are we going to finish or what?” The older still sounded way too amused for Minho to accept the offer but then he shifted and his rock hard cock rubbed against the sheets. He was out of bed faster than lightning, marching towards the bathroom door while he pulled his shirt off.
Steam was already forming in the small room as he kicked his bottoms off and pulled the shower curtain aside. Onew was standing with his back facing Minho; streams of warm water running down his naked body as he relaxed in the heat.
“That was so mean.” The older could practically hear the sulky expression in the other’s voice as Minho stepped in. The younger closed the distance between them with two steps, letting his head rest on Onew’s shoulder.
“I asked you nicely.” He was shoved playfully.
“Apologize.” Minho was still standing behind him, so close Onew could feel his hard member against his ass.
“To you?” And the older turned around, walking Minho backwards until the latter’s back hit the tiled wall behind him, “or to your dick?”
Minho wasn’t going to moan, no he wasn’t, and he wasn’t going to let Onew get away with leaving him lying in bed all hard and ready to come, but fuck all of his thoughts flew out of the window when the older wrapped his hand around his shaft again.
The hand was even warmer than before, no doubt from the shower, and it felt like fire as it moved up and down in a slow pace. The younger was moaning, writhing against the cold wall behind him, his hips thrusting into the older’s fist when the pace became too slow.
His breath hitched when Onew dropped on his knees and Minho was sure he was about to blow it right then and there but he miraculously managed to control himself. Onew’s lips wrapped around his shaft once more and Minho was in heaven, closing his eyes and focusing on nothing but the way the older’s hot mouth moved up and down; the way his tongue would trace the vein on the underside of his dick and dig into the slit at the tip and swirl around the head a few times before he was enveloped into the burning heat once more.
Minho came with a loud moan, spilling into Onew’s mouth as his knees trembled and white flashed behind his closed eyelids. The older kept sucking until he grew soft, completely spent, before he got back up on his feet again.
Maybe orgasms and hot showers weren’t the best idea because Minho’s body was heavier than before and he felt like he could fall asleep leaning on the wall. But Onew was kissing his neck, pulling the younger against him and into the shower.
-
The doctor’s office wasn't as scary the third time around and the couple sat down on a pair of empty chairs. There was an abandoned magazine next to Minho and he picked it up, skimming through glossy pages of baby fashion (Key would cover that, no doubt) and stopped at a scientific article about small children.
He had a habit of disappearing into his own world when he was reading and this time was no different. He didn’t hear his name being called until Onew pushed his shoulder gently, calling his name again. The younger looked up, startled and almost jumped in his seat when he saw Onew’s mother standing two feet from him.
“M-mrs. Lee.” His voice wavered and there was a look of confusion on his face because what was she doing here?
“Mom told me she came to see the baby. Mom, you could have called.”
The second part was directed towards the older’s mother, and he sounded slightly accusing while she looked a little embarrassed. She mumbled something about every grandmother wanting to see her grandchild and quickly moved to sit down.
The younger didn’t know what to make of the situation because she came by uninvited two evenings ago with a stew, not to mention the week before when Minho came back from his lectures only to find her vacuuming the living room. He tossed the magazine on the coffee table in the middle of the room and watched it almost slide of the edge.
Then the three of them sat in silence.
His name was finally called and he got up, followed by his little entourage as he entered the doctors office. Dr. Park looked a little taken aback but then she was smiling and the younger couldn’t help but wonder how often she had three generations in one room but he didn’t ask.
Mrs. Lee was hiding behind Onew’s back as Minho climbed up on the bed, cheeks turning a little pink because he’s okay with pulling his shirt up in front of his boyfriend, and Dr. Park is a professional, but the older’s mother is.. She’s… She could have called!
The gel was cold as always, and it smeared on the edge of his jeans but he refused to unbutton them or pull them any lower and thankfully Dr. Park didn’t suggest it either.
The monitor came alive and the younger momentarily forgot about the other woman in the room as he watched the screen, trying to locate the baby before Dr. Park pointed it out with a well-manicured finger.
The doctor mentioned something about development and sizes, and Minho briefly caught something about the baby being slightly bigger than an avocado, but he was too distracted by Onew’s mother who had inched closer and closer to the bed since the screen on the ultrasound had first lit up.
The younger threw his boyfriend a meaningful look over the woman’s shoulder, but Onew merely shrugged, looking apologetic. Minho couldn’t help but think the older had no backbone when it came to his mother, and he briefly wondered whether he should change the lock on the front door.
“Is it a boy or a girl?” The woman was practically leaning over Minho now, as she looked closer at the monitor.
“I can’t tell, ma'am, because of the position the baby is in.” And the woman finally stepped back, obviously disappointed. “Maybe next time.”
Minho was handed paper towels and he quickly wiped the blue gel off, ready for this to be over. Onew was handed a picture again, with the usual red circle drawn around the baby, and Minho couldn’t help but smile because he knew his boyfriend was going to frame that one as well, and put it on the shelf in their bedroom, next to the other two.
But then the woman is speaking again, asking Onew if she can have it since the doctor didn’t make two.
“Actually, we’re saving them for the baby album.” Minho snatched the picture from his boyfriend before Onew’s mother had a chance to, and stuffed it into his back pocket as he thanked the doctor.
22 weeks
It had to be done sooner or later, but unfortunately for Minho, he had waited until later. Until the very last moment, when he found himself lying on his back on the bed, pants pulled up to his hips.
He hadn’t been able to close them. Admittedly they had fit on very snug on Thursday morning, and the tightness had been a little uncomfortable but the point was they had fit. And now they didn’t. Not even when he took in a deep breath and asked the baby to kindly move out of the way.
How could he get so fat in five days?
And the worst part was they were his loosest jeans. The one’s he had accidentally gotten on a sale and hadn’t looked twice at the size only to come home and find out they were two sizes too big. No refunds, so he had kept them in the back of his closet.
And then they had finally become useful a few weeks back and now they didn’t fit.
He’d spent all morning lying on the made bed, half dressed and fuming.
He knew he looked good, but he’d never been vain, he worked out, yes, but mostly because he enjoyed it, and he made very little effort when getting dressed, and he didn’t spend hours styling his hair (like a certain someone he wasn’t going to name) but he did care just a little bit. And god damn it, he didn’t like looking like a whale!
A stranded whale, he decided, when he threw a sideway glance towards the floor length mirror hanging on the wall.
And so it had to be done, there was no other way, and he had really waited to the very last second because the button remained unbuttoned as he pulled down a sweater to cover the fact before pulling his thick winter coat on and leaving the apartment.
He stood in front of the shop three quarters of an hour later, looking at it with a sulky expression before he gathered up what was left of his pride and entered. It was a whole different world than the other shops he’d been to; all the mannequins sporting bellies like his and section after section filled with pants that would fit him - if he were female.
He wandered deeper in, locating the much smaller section for men, with not nearly as many colors and patterns and different cuts, but at least it was there, and he didn’t care if it was floral or striped (okay, so maybe not the floral), all he wanted was a pair of jeans that fit him. Maybe a pair of sweatpants, too, since those didn’t fit either.
“Do you need any help?” The voice startled him, almost making Minho drop the pair of pants he was holding. There was a sales clerk standing next to him and she must have been a ghost for sneaking up so close to Minho without him noticing.
The sales clerk was tall and skinny, almost as tall him, the shops uniform hanging a little too loosely on the small frame, but she was pretty with auburn hair framing her face and pale, flawless skin.
She smiled, her eyes turning into two cute crescents. The tag on the right side of her shirt read “Taemin” and Minho couldn’t help but feel bad about her parents naming a girl like a boy, especially when she lacked all the curves females usually had and stood almost as tall as him.
“I um…need bigger pants.” Taemin’s gaze flickered to Minho’s belly, calculating the size in her head before pulling out two pairs of jeans from the shelf.
“There are fitting rooms in the back.” She pointed him the direction before asking if she could help with anything else before leaving Minho alone.
He ended up going straight to the register instead of the fitting room; not bothering with the sizes because anything that was bigger than what he was wearing now would do for another few weeks (he hoped at least).
24 weeks
It would happen sometimes, very rarely though, but still it, would happen. They lived in the same city after all, and so it was inevitable for the two of them to run into one, or both, of Minho’s parents from time to time.
Like today.
The older was pretty sure he noticed Minho’s mother before his boyfriend did because the younger was still smiling and talking.
Onew liked to think he knew Minho well enough to know when he was faking it, and so he didn’t mention the woman three aisles down in the supermarket - if he was lucky the younger wouldn’t notice her at all.
“Which one do you want, hyung? Peppermint or Menthol?” The taller of the two held up two almost identical tubes, waiting for a reply.
“We had peppermint this time, right?” The younger nodded in reply and put one of the toothpastes back, dropping the one with the sparkly blue label into the cart.
“Menthol for a change then.” He scratched the item off the list. “Next is shampoo. And razorblades.” Onew followed Minho as he started walking down the aisle, throwing a look to see if the woman had already moved on.
She hadn’t, but she looked different; her hair was cut shorter and she was wearing an olive green coat that Onew had never seen before. Maybe Minho wouldn’t recognize her. The men’s shampoo shelves were far away from the lotion section she was standing at anyway.
“Hyung!” Minho appeared into his line of vision, his smile gone and his brows slightly furrowed, “You’re not paying attention. What are you thinking about?”
They were in the aisle now and the older looked over his boyfriends shoulder.
A mother could pick out the sound of her child’s voice anywhere - especially a child she hadn’t seen in months.
“Nothing, I was just thinking about work.” The shorter bent down to grab a bottle, the same brand Onew had been using for the past three years (ever since Minho had shyly told him his hair smelled good), hoping the other wouldn’t turn around because his mother was pretty much boring holes into her son’s back with her stare; lotion bottle in hand.
Had she noticed? But Minho was wearing a thick coat, and a long scarf that was hanging all the way down to his belly.
Minho was smiling at him as he straightened back up, dropping the bottle next to the toothpaste.
“What’s next on the list?”
“Toilet paper.”
“Minho?”
And a hurt child could recognize the voice of the parents who shunned him.
Onew watched the younger freeze, eyes going wide with shock as they were still locked on the grocery list in his hand. Then the emotion faded, transformed into another and the older felt like cursing the woman.
His boyfriend’s eyes grew empty, his facial expression carefully arranged into a mask void of emotion, under which Onew knew the younger was hiding all the hurt his mother had caused him.
“The toilet papers are in the next aisle.” Minho nodded at the words, and started walking without ever turning around. His mother was about to follow him when Onew stepped in front of her, blocking her way.
“Leave him alone.” He didn’t mean for it to sound as hostile as it did but the woman took a step back, looking up at him.
She looked a lot older since he had last seen her; there were bags under her eyes and her lips had lost their fullness, something she tried to cover up with lipstick and lip liner.
She may not have been the one who kicked him out, or cut all ties to him, but her lack of actions had hurt Minho more than his father had. Onew had all the right to be angry with her, too.
“I just…wanted to see him.” Her voice was quiet, her eyes following Minho as he walked among the aisles; longing to see her son, to talk to him.
There were a million things Onew wanted to say, perhaps even shout, but the grocery store wasn’t the place for that, especially not in front of Minho. So the older bit his tongue and turned the cart around, quickly walking to where Minho was standing in front of the toilet papers, a pack of twelve already in his hands, waiting for his boyfriend.
“You knew she was here.” Onew received an accusing look as the toilet paper was thrown in into the cart, knocking over a few other items.
“I saw her when we were picking out toothpaste.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“What good would have come out of that?” There was a moment of silence as the younger thought it over, realizing his boyfriend was right, his eyes not meeting Onew’s.
“Is she still there?” His facial expression looked exactly like his mother’s, his eyes finally meeting Onew’s and the older reached out to stroke Minho’s cheek gently.
“I told her to leave you alone.” The younger took a step forward, burying his face into the other’s jacket; his hands warping around the shorter’s frame, his round stomach pressing against Onew’s flat one.
“It’s okay.” The other male whispered, his hands stroking Minho’s hair. “We’ll get our things and go. She won’t bother us.” He felt the younger nod against his shoulder before pulling away, the expression on his face so sad Onew wanted to pull him back and never let go.
-
“She was what?” Key’s loud voice attracted the attention of the auditorium and the professor scowled in his direction.
“She was there, he saw her before I did.” Minho’s voice was barely above a whisper. “She called my name, but I didn’t turn around.”
“Your parents don’t even live that way.” The blond controlled his voice a lot better this time, his pen flying over the paper as he took notes. “Do you think she was there on purpose?”
The thought sent a chill down Minho’s back.
He had always suspected Onew had picked the location of their apartment to be as far away from where his parents lived, as to not bump into them more than necessary, and the brunette hadn’t even told the exact address to his brother the few times they spoke over the phone or met.
And the supermarket wasn’t the one his mother had been using for the last decade. Why had she been there then?
He didn’t like the thought of his mother wandering around his neighborhood at all.
“I don’t know.”
“Did she see?” Key’s eyes darted down to Minho’s middle, currently obscured from view by the big winter coat.
“I don’t think so, I was wearing the coat and a scarf.” The last thing he needed was his mother knowing about the pregnancy. He had a feeling she would hunt him down and come crawling on her knees begging for forgiveness.
There was nothing to forgive, though. He didn’t have a mother.
27 weeks
There were three large cardboard boxes stacked on top of each other next to the front door, ready to fall over the moment someone carelessly slammed the door shut to hard.
They were surrounded by half a dozen smaller ones, all filled to the brim, and some a little over, with things varying from old trophies (Minho’s) to broken electronics and old DVD’s (Onew’s). They’d previously been in the small office that came with the flat, but now Onew had been given the task to carry them to the basement of his parents.
There was a big unopened box standing in the middle of the living room, a picture printed out in cheap ink indicating it contained a crib. A bucket of paint had been placed on top of it, next to a brush.
Minho was sitting on the couch, watching as Key carefully applied tape to the doorframe of the office turned storage room about to be turned into a nursery and to the window. It was small, but big enough for a baby or a toddler and it would do, at least for a while until Minho graduated from university.
The couple had both agreed they’d buy a house in a child-friendly neighborhood (with a back yard, a school within walking distance and all that jazz) but neighborhoods like that stayed far away from campuses and the cheap student flats surrounding them.
The room had ended up looking bigger than they had originally guessed it to be anyway, stuffed full with things they never used, and Key, the interior design student that he was, had taken upon him the task of making it into a nursery with the help of Minho’s boyfriend, who was currently hauling boxes into his car.
The youngest stretched out comfortably on the couch, his pregnant stomach automatically prohibiting him from the awful task of packing and cleaning. Instead he watched Key bite of the last strip of tape with his teeth, placing it on the window frame before he stepped back and observed his work.
Once he deemed it good enough he opened the bucket of paint, pouring out a light yellow color into a plastic container. The smell of the liquid hit Minho’s nose almost instantly and he made a mental note to ask Onew to open all the windows in their apartment as soon as he came back, too comfortable to do it himself.
His eyes wandered over the messy living room once he became bored with the way Key would move the brush up and down in steady movements across the room. He’d gone shopping with Onew the week before with a long checklist of things they needed that he had printed out from online.
The two had been a little overwhelmed by the amount of choices (a hundred and two different cribs and three aisles of diapers) and it had taken them several hours to cover just half of the list. And now the living room was filled with cribs and changing tables and even a small baby bath (the kind with a plug, because apparently it made a huge difference).
Minho was jolted out of his musings by a sharp movement. The baby had started kicking a few weeks prior, a little later than the doctor had told them it would (and Minho had secretly worried for weeks until he had felt a fluttering movement, so weak it could have easily been mistaken for something else), but now it was kicking, and definitively making up for lost time.
“It’s kicking again.” Key’s head snapped towards the couch and he quickly put the brush down before he hurried to Minho’s side. The blond placed a hand over Minho’s belly, feeling the movement going on underneath the skin.
“Wow, it’s kicking so hard.”
“Like a football player.” Minho placed his hand next to Key’s as the other rolled his eyes.
“You would.”
“She always wakes me up in the middle of the night with the kicking. Four am, sharp.”
“She?”
“Or he.” And there was a moment of confusion because nobody knew the sex and the baby was always in a bad position when Dr. Park did an ultrasound check.
“I’m gonna repaint that room the moment you find out.”
“Be my guest.” It was no secret the blond hated the pale yellow color currently drying up in the container, and next to Onew’s mother (who’s plans of knitting Christmas gifts all the way to tenth grade had now been flushed down the toilet because she couldn’t choose the correct pattern) he was probably the most frustrated of them all.
“It’s good he’s finally moving, though.”
“Yeah.” And neither one had to say it, but they both knew how worried everyone had been for a while, with the baby being smaller than average and the obvious risks that came with male pregnancies.
“Everything will turn out great.” Minho didn’t know whom Key was trying to reassure, and it would have been a lot more convincing if the other hadn’t smiled so forcefully it almost looked like a grimace.
And the baby gave one last kick before it stilled, finding a comfortable spot inside Minho.
The First Trimester (part 2/2)
A/N: This is finally done. I finished it yesterday and sent it to my beta but she's disappeared and I don't feel like annoying her with text messages bcz some people have lives so I let someone else read it and assure me it was okay.
And I apologize for the weird writing, it's been written in parts and not in chronological order and my writing style is constantly changing so it's terribly miss matched >_<
And it's kind of short, but I really wanted to just post this, maybe I'll make up for it in the next part.
And layout was a complete bitch again and I had to fix this three times
P.S. My beta is alive (she was just having a life) and now all the small typos have been fixed. Yay~