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theblueintheday2015-04-05 09:23 pm
bluedreaming) wrote in theblueintheday2015-04-05 09:23 pm
Entry tags:
[team sonic] makes me stronger
Starting words from here.
Title from Chrisette Michele's Love is You.
Inspired by this gif.
Banana or strawberry. Those are the options staring at him from the shelf in the grocery store refrigerator. Both of them make his stomach turn at the thought of even trying to keep them down, bright primary colours like the blue line on the white test still sitting on his bathroom counter. He can't bring himself to touch it, even though it's been a few days and that's probably grossly unhygienic but somehow that doesn't seem important right now.
Junmyeon ends up exiting the grocery store with empty hands, carefully placing the shopping basket back in the stack by the front doors as he smiles apologetically at the boy working the closest check out counter. It's strange, there's so much food and he could buy any of it and yet he wants nothing.
Beep Beep
His phone is buzzing in his pocket; he knows who it is without even bothering to check the name on the screen.
We're still on for five right?
He wants to say no but he knows that Jongin will suspect something. Their Friday afternoon dates are a routine they've had for a long time, ever since they met when Jongin was only a second year university student and Fridays were his only early afternoon free of classes. Now that Jongin's a graduate student things are both easier and harder, his classes have mostly turned into seminars which are more flexible but he has a much greater workload, so they've stuck to their small Friday rituals. In fact, the only reason Jongin is even asking is because Junmyeon made the mistake of mentioning he wasn't feeling very well, back on Monday.
Before throwing up when he got to work twice in a row.
Before the test.
Junmyeon can't cancel because then Jongin will know something is wrong. Something is wrong.
chips are down
He still feels queasy, not sure if it's still hormone related—isn't it too early for that?— or a result of not eating anything since losing his late breakfast. Everything makes him sick. The cloying perfume of the lady standing next to him on the subway has Junmyeon swallowing convulsively; he can feel the saliva already pooling in his mouth and he fights back the desperate need, sagging in relief when she gets off at the next stop. A young woman gets on, lilac diaper bag, stroller and two year old attached to her hand. She looks like she's six months pregnant, smiling at the people who vacate the reserved seating bench and practically glowing with supreme motherhood as she expertly juggles the stroller and diaper bag against the wall and the toddler onto a seat next to her. Junmyeon can't help but look, hoping that no one suspects him of any ulterior motives, his eyes drawn to an image of something he can never hope to obtain.
I'm too old. He knows that people have kids at thirty seven, his mother even had him at forty, but he remembers her stories about the doctor telling her it was a bad idea and she was a woman. I'm not a woman.
He feels sick, again, the nausea twisting together with his fear and guilt and he can't believe this happened, he'd always been so careful, Jongin is still a student! but what's done is done.
Maybe I'll just smile and pretend and then I'll make an appointment and get rid of the problem.
He feels even sicker thinking about it.
world is cold
The sidewalk is slippery, walking from the subway stop; the wind is cold and as he's trying to adjust his scarf, the one that Jongin gave him last Christmas, laughing awkwardly as he admitted that he'd knitted it himself with the help of his sisters over Skype video call, both laughing and shouting directions, the scarf that still smells like Jongin, Junmyeon loses his footing. He slips and lands on his ankle, crunch, skinning his elbow and the base of his hand in the process; the pain is sharp, immediate, his pupils dilating as he tries to breathe around the throbbing. He blinks away tears.
Like a second sight, Junmyeon always joking that Jongin has a kind of uncanny sixth sense, at least when it comes to him, his pocket buzzes. Jongin. Slumped against the brick wall of the building bordering the sidewalk, he winces, breath hitching as he manages to pull the phone out of his coat.
It's really icy today so I just wanted to make sure you're okay ♡
Sitting against the wall, winter in the city, people rushing by and tires of cars and buses slipping on the slushy streets, Junmyeon sees a mother walking with her child across the street—she slips, small boots on the icy sidewalk, but her mother's grasp is steady and the little girl is up and giggling again without a hiccough. He wishes he could talk to his mom right now, not that she would accept the situation anyway, even if she were still alive,
"I trusted you father and look where I ended up," she always warned him as a child. "Don't make the same mistakes I did."
Jongin isn't a mistake. But Junmyeon doesn't want to be the mistake in Jongin's life.
He tries getting up, but pain shoots through his leg like a knife and he slumps back down again. What am I going to do? He has to answer Jongin's message or he'll come looking for him.
On my way!
Junmyeon ends up somehow staggering to his feet, teeth clenched so hard on his lip that he can taste blood as he flags down a taxi. The driver has to help him into the backseat, glaring at him the whole time, his fingers rough, and Junmyeon feels like this is a sign of what he has to look forward to. His pocket buzzes again—
Are you okay?
Junmyeon buries his face in his hands. I can do it.
But when Jongin buzzes the door, waiting inside the lobby because he knows something isn't right, Junmyeon dares to take a step through the doorway and can't stifle his breathy scream as weight falls on his ankle. Jongin rushes forward, alarm scrawled all over his face as he reaches out to take all of Junmyeon's weight.
"Are you okay?" he asks, concern clear in his furrowed brow. "What happened?"
"I fell and twisted my ankle," Junmyeon admits, fingers curling into his palms as he tries not to moan, but he can feel Jongin's eyes watching him, reading his body language like an open book as he helps him to the sofa in the lobby and dials for a taxi. Jongin's arm around his shoulder, fingers running soothingly up and down Junmyeon's arm, calming his racing heart even as Jongin is speaking to the cab dispatcher on the phone.
"I don't need to go to the hospital," Junmyeon protests, ignoring the throbbing that by now seems to be encasing his whole leg. Jongin only looks at him.
fight gets old
The ER doctor examines his ankle, Junmyeon's fingers digging into Jongin's hand as he tries not to make any sound. Jongin doesn't complain, even though Junmyeon is worried that he's going to cut on the circulation to his boyfriend's hand.
"We'll need to get an x-ray to be sure," the doctor concludes, looking up. "Just a standard procedure question, but you don't happen to be pregnant?" Junmyeon feels his face draining of colour as his fingers loosen and his hand slips away from Jongin's. He swallows, feels the anxiety rolling in his stomach again as a tide of nausea rushes up.
"Yes," he whispers, looking at the ground. "I am."
The room is very quiet for a long moment, only the muffled sounds of the ER outside the curtain separating them from the chaos.
The doctor clears his throat. "I'll order an ultrasound instead." He looks at Junmyeon, noticing the fact that his pregnancy is not yet apparent. "Have you gone to see an obstetrician yet?"
Junmyeon just shakes his head. He can't look at the doctor right now, imagining his judging expression, and he definitely can't look at Jongin. The doctor gets up to go order the ultrasound, Junmyeon presumes, but he keeps looking at the ground. It's very interesting; the tiles are white but there are pink lines threaded through the surface. He pretends not to feel Jongin's eyes on him, even when he can feel his arm reach forward to rest on Junmyeon's shoulder.
He can't help but flinch, just a little.
"Junmyeon," Jongin says, and Junmyeon can hear the concern in his voice, the bewilderment. I'm so sorry. "Junmyeon." Jongin's other hand reaches forward, and gently tips Junmyeon's chin up so he can look in his eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Junmyeon stares into Jongin's eyes and doesn't know what to say.
you're the one I'd cling to
Jongin's fingers are rubbing small soothing circles on Junmyeon's shoulder and he wants a hug so badly right now; now when he's so confused and Jongin doesn't seem to be angry but he—Junmyeon feels so useless. He's just a burden. He wasn't going to tell Jongin, at least not right away, and then he went and broke his ankle.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, the words slipping out like a sigh.
Jongin frowns. "Why are you sorry?" He's almost glaring; in any other circumstance Junmyeon would poke his nose for being cute but not right now. Not when he feels like the child in the equation. All his old insecurities come back to him, sitting on the examining table. Jongin's too young for you. You're too old for him. You should have let him go.
"I'm sorry for getting pregnant without us ever discussing it," Junmyeon blurts out. "I'm sorry I'm so old and I'm sorry for ruining your life and I'm sorry for breaking my ankle too." He feels like crying by the end of it, but Jongin's other hand dropping from his chin to his hand, fingers entangling warmly with his cold ones, help keep the tears at bay.
"You're spouting a bunch of nonsense," Jongin says, and Junmyeon has to smile at Jongin's deliberate use of out-of-date phrasing. Trust Jongin to remember and make him feel better. "I picked you. It wasn't because of your age or anything else and have I ever done anything these past five years to make you doubt me?"
Junmyeon shakes his head.
"I love you," Jongin continues, "I love you no matter what and you have to remember that." He steps forward to wrap his arms around Junmyeon, hands running comfortingly up and down his back, and Junmyeon can't stop the tears then as they trickle out of his eyes and drip down to wet Jongin's shoulder.
"I love you so much," he chokes through a throat swollen with emotion, and Jongin tips his head to press a small kiss to Junmyeon's neck.
"I love you even more," he says, "and that's that."
Sitting there, on the examining table, Jongin's arms wrapped around him, Junmyeon knows that it won't be easy, but they'll make it.
love is you
Title from Chrisette Michele's Love is You.
Inspired by this gif.
Banana or strawberry. Those are the options staring at him from the shelf in the grocery store refrigerator. Both of them make his stomach turn at the thought of even trying to keep them down, bright primary colours like the blue line on the white test still sitting on his bathroom counter. He can't bring himself to touch it, even though it's been a few days and that's probably grossly unhygienic but somehow that doesn't seem important right now.
Junmyeon ends up exiting the grocery store with empty hands, carefully placing the shopping basket back in the stack by the front doors as he smiles apologetically at the boy working the closest check out counter. It's strange, there's so much food and he could buy any of it and yet he wants nothing.
Beep Beep
His phone is buzzing in his pocket; he knows who it is without even bothering to check the name on the screen.
We're still on for five right?
He wants to say no but he knows that Jongin will suspect something. Their Friday afternoon dates are a routine they've had for a long time, ever since they met when Jongin was only a second year university student and Fridays were his only early afternoon free of classes. Now that Jongin's a graduate student things are both easier and harder, his classes have mostly turned into seminars which are more flexible but he has a much greater workload, so they've stuck to their small Friday rituals. In fact, the only reason Jongin is even asking is because Junmyeon made the mistake of mentioning he wasn't feeling very well, back on Monday.
Before throwing up when he got to work twice in a row.
Before the test.
Junmyeon can't cancel because then Jongin will know something is wrong. Something is wrong.
He still feels queasy, not sure if it's still hormone related—isn't it too early for that?— or a result of not eating anything since losing his late breakfast. Everything makes him sick. The cloying perfume of the lady standing next to him on the subway has Junmyeon swallowing convulsively; he can feel the saliva already pooling in his mouth and he fights back the desperate need, sagging in relief when she gets off at the next stop. A young woman gets on, lilac diaper bag, stroller and two year old attached to her hand. She looks like she's six months pregnant, smiling at the people who vacate the reserved seating bench and practically glowing with supreme motherhood as she expertly juggles the stroller and diaper bag against the wall and the toddler onto a seat next to her. Junmyeon can't help but look, hoping that no one suspects him of any ulterior motives, his eyes drawn to an image of something he can never hope to obtain.
I'm too old. He knows that people have kids at thirty seven, his mother even had him at forty, but he remembers her stories about the doctor telling her it was a bad idea and she was a woman. I'm not a woman.
He feels sick, again, the nausea twisting together with his fear and guilt and he can't believe this happened, he'd always been so careful, Jongin is still a student! but what's done is done.
Maybe I'll just smile and pretend and then I'll make an appointment and get rid of the problem.
He feels even sicker thinking about it.
The sidewalk is slippery, walking from the subway stop; the wind is cold and as he's trying to adjust his scarf, the one that Jongin gave him last Christmas, laughing awkwardly as he admitted that he'd knitted it himself with the help of his sisters over Skype video call, both laughing and shouting directions, the scarf that still smells like Jongin, Junmyeon loses his footing. He slips and lands on his ankle, crunch, skinning his elbow and the base of his hand in the process; the pain is sharp, immediate, his pupils dilating as he tries to breathe around the throbbing. He blinks away tears.
Like a second sight, Junmyeon always joking that Jongin has a kind of uncanny sixth sense, at least when it comes to him, his pocket buzzes. Jongin. Slumped against the brick wall of the building bordering the sidewalk, he winces, breath hitching as he manages to pull the phone out of his coat.
It's really icy today so I just wanted to make sure you're okay ♡
Sitting against the wall, winter in the city, people rushing by and tires of cars and buses slipping on the slushy streets, Junmyeon sees a mother walking with her child across the street—she slips, small boots on the icy sidewalk, but her mother's grasp is steady and the little girl is up and giggling again without a hiccough. He wishes he could talk to his mom right now, not that she would accept the situation anyway, even if she were still alive,
"I trusted you father and look where I ended up," she always warned him as a child. "Don't make the same mistakes I did."
Jongin isn't a mistake. But Junmyeon doesn't want to be the mistake in Jongin's life.
He tries getting up, but pain shoots through his leg like a knife and he slumps back down again. What am I going to do? He has to answer Jongin's message or he'll come looking for him.
On my way!
Junmyeon ends up somehow staggering to his feet, teeth clenched so hard on his lip that he can taste blood as he flags down a taxi. The driver has to help him into the backseat, glaring at him the whole time, his fingers rough, and Junmyeon feels like this is a sign of what he has to look forward to. His pocket buzzes again—
Are you okay?
Junmyeon buries his face in his hands. I can do it.
But when Jongin buzzes the door, waiting inside the lobby because he knows something isn't right, Junmyeon dares to take a step through the doorway and can't stifle his breathy scream as weight falls on his ankle. Jongin rushes forward, alarm scrawled all over his face as he reaches out to take all of Junmyeon's weight.
"Are you okay?" he asks, concern clear in his furrowed brow. "What happened?"
"I fell and twisted my ankle," Junmyeon admits, fingers curling into his palms as he tries not to moan, but he can feel Jongin's eyes watching him, reading his body language like an open book as he helps him to the sofa in the lobby and dials for a taxi. Jongin's arm around his shoulder, fingers running soothingly up and down Junmyeon's arm, calming his racing heart even as Jongin is speaking to the cab dispatcher on the phone.
"I don't need to go to the hospital," Junmyeon protests, ignoring the throbbing that by now seems to be encasing his whole leg. Jongin only looks at him.
The ER doctor examines his ankle, Junmyeon's fingers digging into Jongin's hand as he tries not to make any sound. Jongin doesn't complain, even though Junmyeon is worried that he's going to cut on the circulation to his boyfriend's hand.
"We'll need to get an x-ray to be sure," the doctor concludes, looking up. "Just a standard procedure question, but you don't happen to be pregnant?" Junmyeon feels his face draining of colour as his fingers loosen and his hand slips away from Jongin's. He swallows, feels the anxiety rolling in his stomach again as a tide of nausea rushes up.
"Yes," he whispers, looking at the ground. "I am."
The room is very quiet for a long moment, only the muffled sounds of the ER outside the curtain separating them from the chaos.
The doctor clears his throat. "I'll order an ultrasound instead." He looks at Junmyeon, noticing the fact that his pregnancy is not yet apparent. "Have you gone to see an obstetrician yet?"
Junmyeon just shakes his head. He can't look at the doctor right now, imagining his judging expression, and he definitely can't look at Jongin. The doctor gets up to go order the ultrasound, Junmyeon presumes, but he keeps looking at the ground. It's very interesting; the tiles are white but there are pink lines threaded through the surface. He pretends not to feel Jongin's eyes on him, even when he can feel his arm reach forward to rest on Junmyeon's shoulder.
He can't help but flinch, just a little.
"Junmyeon," Jongin says, and Junmyeon can hear the concern in his voice, the bewilderment. I'm so sorry. "Junmyeon." Jongin's other hand reaches forward, and gently tips Junmyeon's chin up so he can look in his eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Junmyeon stares into Jongin's eyes and doesn't know what to say.
Jongin's fingers are rubbing small soothing circles on Junmyeon's shoulder and he wants a hug so badly right now; now when he's so confused and Jongin doesn't seem to be angry but he—Junmyeon feels so useless. He's just a burden. He wasn't going to tell Jongin, at least not right away, and then he went and broke his ankle.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, the words slipping out like a sigh.
Jongin frowns. "Why are you sorry?" He's almost glaring; in any other circumstance Junmyeon would poke his nose for being cute but not right now. Not when he feels like the child in the equation. All his old insecurities come back to him, sitting on the examining table. Jongin's too young for you. You're too old for him. You should have let him go.
"I'm sorry for getting pregnant without us ever discussing it," Junmyeon blurts out. "I'm sorry I'm so old and I'm sorry for ruining your life and I'm sorry for breaking my ankle too." He feels like crying by the end of it, but Jongin's other hand dropping from his chin to his hand, fingers entangling warmly with his cold ones, help keep the tears at bay.
"You're spouting a bunch of nonsense," Jongin says, and Junmyeon has to smile at Jongin's deliberate use of out-of-date phrasing. Trust Jongin to remember and make him feel better. "I picked you. It wasn't because of your age or anything else and have I ever done anything these past five years to make you doubt me?"
Junmyeon shakes his head.
"I love you," Jongin continues, "I love you no matter what and you have to remember that." He steps forward to wrap his arms around Junmyeon, hands running comfortingly up and down his back, and Junmyeon can't stop the tears then as they trickle out of his eyes and drip down to wet Jongin's shoulder.
"I love you so much," he chokes through a throat swollen with emotion, and Jongin tips his head to press a small kiss to Junmyeon's neck.
"I love you even more," he says, "and that's that."
Sitting there, on the examining table, Jongin's arms wrapped around him, Junmyeon knows that it won't be easy, but they'll make it.
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Kudos. :)
<3 Addie
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Yes very happy fuzzy sad love feels ♡ mpreg is one of my favourite things
thank you ♡
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I loved the way you explored Joonmyun's doubts and fears and ofc his noble idiocy which we all know Joonmyun is prone to - this is the kind of angst I can handle. And they're both so thoughtful of each other - Joonmyun not wanting to ruin Jongin's future and Jongin so concerned for him and sending him all those texts and I just /weeps/
This was so heartwrenching and so good and I hate you for making me cry - or love you whatever but anyway, I cried /rolls all over you. Thank you Jongin for hugging your hyung the way you did and thank you ansabear for writing this story for them ;;;;
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I thought of that gif the whole time writing this lol - so much touching!! And this is why I love mpreg (also because it gives me a chance to vent nausea lol) so much cute tender worried feelings. nothing can quite compare.
thanks for reading and commenting ♡
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TISH
MPREHG AND AGE GAO AND CUTE LITTLE MYUN IN A SCARRRFFFFF /dies fotebre at the mental image/ IM CRU
how sad myunnie was but his jonginne loves him and therye gonan ahev a baby and kongin how he comforted himmmmmmm im cry eveyrtewher
this was cute and presh and everything moreg ahoulf be adn more ty for giving us this sukai ;;;3;;;; kekeke