round 03, challenge two: drabble five
Title: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness
Fandom and Pairing: epik high; tablo/kang hyejung
Rating: PG
Word Count: 200
Summary: It's a sick kind of desperation holding them back.
Warnings: -
"I'm pregnant" comes the call (swift, sudden), and for a while, only puffs of air are exchanged over the line.
He groans, sitting up in bed. "Nice one, that really woke me up. Thanks--"
"No. Tablo. This isn't an alarm." Desperation is creeping into the edges of her voice, bending, twisting until the words fall flat. "I'm two months late, and I took the test ten minutes ago."
It hits him, then--there's something rising in his gut, warm and about to burst. He blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.
"We'll get married, Hyejung." He staggers towards his desk, rifles through messy stacks of paper and drawers, looking for a small black box. "Let's get married."
She chokes, strangled laughter spilling from her mouth. "Married. God, Tablo, we're not like Tukutz. We can't just do that--we, we can't afford to throw our lives away."
Seconds tick past on the wall clock. "Yeah," he breathes, brow furrowed, and the something starts to deflate. "I'm sorry. Just--sorry."
"Sometimes"--relief colors an unconvincing veneer over her fear--"sometimes you just get carried away. We'll figure something out."
Tablo palms the ring in his hand and says nothing.
Fandom and Pairing: epik high; tablo/kang hyejung
Rating: PG
Word Count: 200
Summary: It's a sick kind of desperation holding them back.
Warnings: -
"I'm pregnant" comes the call (swift, sudden), and for a while, only puffs of air are exchanged over the line.
He groans, sitting up in bed. "Nice one, that really woke me up. Thanks--"
"No. Tablo. This isn't an alarm." Desperation is creeping into the edges of her voice, bending, twisting until the words fall flat. "I'm two months late, and I took the test ten minutes ago."
It hits him, then--there's something rising in his gut, warm and about to burst. He blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.
"We'll get married, Hyejung." He staggers towards his desk, rifles through messy stacks of paper and drawers, looking for a small black box. "Let's get married."
She chokes, strangled laughter spilling from her mouth. "Married. God, Tablo, we're not like Tukutz. We can't just do that--we, we can't afford to throw our lives away."
Seconds tick past on the wall clock. "Yeah," he breathes, brow furrowed, and the something starts to deflate. "I'm sorry. Just--sorry."
"Sometimes"--relief colors an unconvincing veneer over her fear--"sometimes you just get carried away. We'll figure something out."
Tablo palms the ring in his hand and says nothing.