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Jeonghan wakes up from his nap to a kick in the lungs. Lying in a nest of warm pillows is a little slice of zen, and it’s almost possible to forget that anything is out of the ordinary, until he goes to curl up tighter and his leg bumps into his belly and suddenly he’s back in his own body. His hugely pregnant body. Which somehow feels even bigger than it was when he fell asleep just hours ago.
The baby nudges him again, and he groans into the pillow. “Why did you have to wake me up? I was dreaming. It was nice, I was… running in the forest. I could jog for hours with wind in my hair and the trees smelled good and it was so freeing. God, I miss it. I miss being outside. City air's not the same."
He sits up awkwardly, unable to do it unassisted and so he uses his hands to prop himself up. He has to spread his legs now whenever he sits up straight to make room for his belly. And he groans, because every motion makes the baby reposition itself inside him and usually that involves an elbow to the spleen. He rubs his belly, tries to tug his shirt down over it. It fit two weeks ago. It’s now too small to cover him, or maybe he’s too big.
"Like, I didn’t even like running before I got knocked up with you, but at least I could do it. Not that there’s any hard feelings. Running is overrated. Walking like a normal person is also overrated. And so is sitting up in a timely fashion, and sleeping on my back, and being able to touch my feet, and alcohol. All that stuff is boring and dumb and I am not at all upset that I can’t do any of it anymore.”
He tugs at his shirt again. "God, you're huge."
Showing used to be a novelty. For the first few months he’d marveled at the curve of his belly, how perfectly round it was, wearing snug shirts proudly to show it off. It's not cute anymore. There’s something so sweet and pretty about the second trimester, when you can still get out of chairs and people you meet can speculate whether you’re pregnant or just chubby. His belly is now comically large, exhaustingly heavy, out of proportion with the rest of him. Walking is a chore, running is impossible, and both are forbidden under doctor's orders.
A month ago, pregnancy wasn’t that much of a change from his regular life. He went to work, ran errands, went to the gym, went out with friends, played basketball, loved to dance. He was healthy, active, his monthly checkups were perfect. Up to seven months in and Jeonghan was happier than he'd ever been, so by all accounts, he was doing this perfectly. Up to seven months in, or until he’d woken them both up crying because of mysterious cramps that felt like his legs were being torn off and shooting pains in his lower back, with the worst case scenario running through his mind and the pain of anything happening to his baby making the pain in his hips feel ten times worse.
As someone with a life, Jeonghan had been a big fan of naps. “Bed rest” has now become a dirty word. He's high risk now, and if he wants to keep his baby he needs to spend as little time on his feet as possible. Avoid sudden movements, and when he does have to walk, it must be slow and steady. Don't bend over, don't lift anything over ten pounds, don't climb stairs (so leaving their third-floor walkup was forbidden). For the first few days, relaxation was a blessing. After almost a month, though, all he wants to do is something.
It’s just a precaution, really. There’s no proof that anything is really going to happen if he moves more. But at this point, eight months into it, he’s closer to this baby than anyone else in his life and he’s not going to do anything that jeopardizes this pregnancy in the slightest. The thought of losing it because he didn’t follow the rules makes him sick to his stomach, or maybe that’s just hormones.
"'She runs her fingers over the taut, enormous drum her middle has become-', yeah, that's relatable, 'wondering where the baby's feet and hands are at this moment.' Yours are currently poking me in the kidneys. 'The child is no longer restless; for the past few days, apart for the occasional flutter, she has not felt it punch or kick or press against her ribs. She wonders if she is the only Indian person in the hospital, but a gentle twitch from the baby reminds her that she is, technically speaking, not alone.' Huh. That's us too, I guess. I'm not alone. Me and you, together."
It's four in the afternoon. To make the hours pass quicker, Jeonghan reads a lot, and prefers to read aloud so the house doesn't feel so empty and so the baby gets used to the sound of his voice. He or she or whatever is very responsive when he talks. Every time it hears his voice it wiggles a little, which is a feeling he'll never get used to. It's not always a pleasant feeling, but it is a nice reminder. He's not alone. He's putting himself through this for a purpose. This baby loves him already. And it's happy and safe inside the home he's made for it, because of the sacrifices he's making for it, protecting it because he loves it too.
"Yup, it's just me and you, except I wish you could talk back in a way besides kicking me. No offense. Love you."
As if in response, the baby gives him a nudge. Jeonghan smiles.
"'Ashima thinks it's strange-'" His stomach growls, interrupting him midsentence, and his mind turns to food. He shifts over and rolls awkwardly onto his feet, groaning as the baby repositions itself. “I know, baby. I'm not supposed to get up. I’ll be back in bed soon. You're just making me hungry, and so I have to feed you now.”
He doesn’t want anything, really. Bed rest has had him putting on weight like there’s no tomorrow. But his body’s not his own anymore, so every time his stomach growls, no matter when or where and if he wants to or not, even if he's tired or nauseous or feeling like a fat cow, he eats.
Losing his figure is one of the many frustrations that's small enough that he doesn't really care, but he still hates how they all seem to fall on him. They weren’t consciously trying for a baby. Him being the one who got pregnant was luck of the draw. And now he's the one who had to give up his job, his body, his social life. He can't sleep and everything is sore and the bigger he gets the worse it becomes, but at least he isn’t throwing up anymore.
“The baby’s not even going to know who I am.” Seungcheol used to say whenever Jeonghan complained about not being able to sleep on his back or drink coffee. “It’s gonna be drawn to you immediately and I’m going to have to make it love me.”
"I’m going to have these stretch marks for the rest of my life." Jeonghan would rebut, and Seungcheol would kiss the red spidery lines on his stomach, and Jeonghan's pregnancy-heightened sex drive would go crazy.
It doesn't really happen anymore. Probably because he's not allowed to have sex under these draconian rules, but part of him will always wonder if it's because he's blown up so much that Seungcheol doesn't want to.
The fridge is full of vegetables. Babies can live on salad, probably. Jeonghan should probably be living on salad, given that he’s been getting no exercise at all for a solid month and his sides are starting to muffin-top over his waistband, independent of the baby bump. But there’s leftover noodles in the fridge, with the oily peanut sauce and everything, and Jeonghan thinks they might taste good with mustard on them. So he puts them in the microwave and grabs a poptart from the cabinet while it’s heating up and holds it in his mouth while he pours himself a bowl of Lucky Charms. Which he thinks would taste good with grape jelly or mayonnaise or both.
God, he's turning into such a pig.
He finishes his snack standing up, which he's not supposed to, but his legs appreciate the chance to stretch. Jeonghan washes his dishes, because he still can, and rests them in the drying rack. He has to stretch for a dish towel, leaning across the counter as much as possible. Pregnancy, though, has ruined his coordination, and he knocks the jar of mustard with his elbow. In the past, he knows he could have caught that.
In the present, though, it falls off the counter and smashes on the floor.
"Fuck!" He steps backward as fast as he can, though he's shaky on his feet and the baby kicks in discomfort at the sudden movement. "Yikes. Sorry, baby. Okay, this is bad. But it’s not that bad. We can clean this.”
It's not that bad. The glass is in large chunks, easy to pick up. Non-pregnant Jeonghan could have cleaned this up in less than five minutes. Pregnant Jeonghan feels like anything on the floor may have been out of his grasp for the last three weeks or so. Anyways, any motion that would get him even close is banned on the grounds of bed rest. But Jeonghan, in any state, has always been stubborn.
“Okay, kiddo. Here goes, we’re just gonna bend over a little…”
He can't. He gets his body to maybe an 80-degree angle before the pressure becomes uncomfortable, barely enough to reach his knees, let alone the floor. Trying to squat down proves equally useless, like he wants to lower himself onto the floor, but the baby is completely in the way of every possible movement.
“Change of plans. Can’t squat, can’t bend over… we’re gonna try to get on my knees. It’s gonna be hard, but we can do it, okay? Let's do it together."
This time he uses the counter to steady himself as he lowers himself to the ground, almost cries in relief when his knees hit the floor. He has to spread his legs apart to make room for his belly, but he still feels it pressing against his thighs. And when he tries to reach for the pieces of the jar, it's clear this wasn't a good idea.
"You're too big, baby. Wow, I can't reach the floor. Okay, this sucks. Let’s get a broom." He uses the counter to pull himself back to his feet, breathing heavily when he's upright again. He rub the underside of his belly as he walks, talks to it while he sweeps. "We can make this work. And now my ankles hurt because I've been standing with you for too long. You know I used to be able to run for miles and now standing up in the kitchen for ten minutes is too much? That's all you, baby. My body's a mess now. No offense, but being pregnant with you is terrible. I mean, obviously it's not your fault. You didn't ask to be conceived. I'm not mad at you, I'm just… whatever."
The broom is making it worse, just picks up the shards of glass and smears the mustard all over the floor, and then there's no way to clean it up. He drops a dishrag on the floor and tries to mop it up with his feet, but stops when he loses his balance and almost falls, because his center of gravity is fucked and it's not something you can ever get used to.
"Sorry, baby." he murmurs to the sharp kick of protest in his upper belly. His heart is racing, pangs of guilt twist his stomach as the baby settles down again. He gives it an apologetic rub. "I won't do that again. I'll just leave the kitchen a disaster, I guess. And Seungcheol will have to clean it, just like he has to do everything else while I'm bloated and useless and stuck in bed. Again, no offense. I think you’re great. I just hate what you’re doing to my body. No offense. Love you.”
Tears prick at his eyes. It's stupid. It's hormones. It doesn't mean anything. These awful negative feelings are probably also hormone-induced, but they make him feel like the worst soon-to-be parent ever. 'Happy bodies make healthy babies' was his obstetrician's favorite saying, and Jeonghan hasn't really been happy since this whole bed rest thing started. That he resents this pregnancy in any way makes him feel like a monster, but the negative feelings will always be there. He can't help it.
"Let's go back to bed. I'm sorry. Like, all I can do right now is lay around and try to relax and I can't even do that right."
He hates that even walking is a chore. He hates the exaggerated waddle that he has to do just to get around, leaning awkwardly backwards to take some of the strain off his back. He hates that just getting back in bed takes time. In a past life he’d flop face down on his mattress and pass out like that. In the present, it’s a long process of settling himself on the edge of the bed and lowering himself slowly back onto his elbows and shifting his hips over and dragging himself onto the pillows and hopefully landing on a position that doesn’t leave the baby sitting directly in top of his bladder. In the present, he fails, so he shifts onto his side because getting up is going to be just as big an ordeal as lying down was.
All he can do is lie there. It's quiet. The baby is relaxed, so all he can feel is awful, the hot embarrassment pooling in his gut. He's heavy, lying there, and not just his body. It's an emotional weight. Hating himself for hating any part of this, for feeling like he doesn't love the baby enough even though he knows it's not true. Loneliness, too. It all builds up. Some days, like today, it spills over.
He hears the door unlock before he knows what time it is, but he knows that it means that Seungcheol is home, and the tears come back, because it's pathetic. There's shit all over the kitchen and it's all his fault. Stuck at home, beached like a whale in his bed, unable to leave the house and he can't even do enough to keep it clean. The rational part of his brain tells him that this is normal, that they both knew he'd eventually get too big to be comfortable, that they'd practiced for this with pillows under his shirt before he'd started showing so he could mentally prepare for the restrictions to his mobility. The sad, stir-crazy part of him is frustrated and embarrassed and slightly angry. Seungcheol's not the one who's too big to tie his shoes. Seungcheol's not the one stuck in bed for two and a half months.
"Hannie!" Seungcheol calls out, and he can hear the smile in his voice, and that makes it worse. The baby kicks at the sound.
"Bedroom." Jeonghan says back, weakly but loud enough to hear.
He hears Seungcheol's footsteps. He doesn't roll over, but feels Seungcheol there.
“How’s my baby?” Seungcheol presses a kiss to the side of his head, gives the curve of his belly an affectionate rub, which makes him want to cry more.
“Me or your actual baby?”
“You, baby. What’s wrong? Are those tears?" Seungcheol lays a hand on his cheek like he's a little kid needing his temperature checked. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt? What happened?”
“The kitchen’s a mess and I’m too fat to clean it up.”
He lets out a soft laugh. “Is that all? Hannie, you’re not fat.”
“My stomach is the size of a beach ball and love handles have their own postal code. And I can't bend over because it's in the way or even get on my knees and I walk like a chicken and my feet are sore.”
Seungcheol tries to rub his ankles, but he pulls them away, tucking his body into the tightest ball his belly will allow.
“You’re pregnant, not fat. And it makes you look so beautiful. I’ll clean the kitchen, okay? I don’t want you to worry about it. I love you." He climbs over Jeonghan's legs and settles down into the space that's left between him and the wall, which isn't much. Jeonghan's round belly presses against his flat stomach as he moves their faces closer. Seungcheol's breath smells like coffee, and thinking about how he can't have coffee anymore is enough to make the tears start to flow again, in the emotional state he's in. He buries his face in the pillow. "Are you sure you're feeling okay? Do you want tea? A backrub? What can I do?"
Frustration billows up inside him. He feels like he could lose it.
“Hannie, talk to me.”
"Everything's so different and I hate it."
Seungcheol squeezes his hand, empathy in his soft eyes. "I know. I wish it could be better."
"But you're so different, Cheol. You used to know what I wanted before I did and now it's all 'can I do this? Is this okay?' every time you touch me. I spend all day acting like I'm some precious object trying not to break and then you come home and you're even worse. I just want you to treat me like your boyfriend again."
Seungcheol blinks at him, long lashes fluttering and eyebrows raised in confusion. "I just want to make it easy for you, baby. I just want you to be happy."
"It would make me happy if you'd kiss me without asking if it was okay first. Or if you'd pinch my ass like you used to. If you'd wake me up when you're horny instead of running off to jerk off in the bathroom, because that makes me feel like shit. Like I'm not still a person who needs love and affection and sex, like I'm just an incubator for your baby because the only part of me you touch anymore is my stomach.”
The tears come back. All the complaints are floating to the surface, but the way his mood swings so easily these days, any filter he used to have is too weak to hold them back. Seungcheol frowns.
"The doctor said no sex, Hannie. I didn't want to touch you because I was trying not to make it hard for you." He's doing that this he does when he stares right into Jeonghan with those big round puppy eyes, stripping his walls bare. "Hannie, I love you so, so much. This isn't about me or the baby or anything. This is about you. I get that this isn't the perfect pregnancy you were hoping for. I just don't want to do anything that would make it hurt like it did before. Seeing you in pain like that was the worst day of my life."
"I just hate this." Jeonghan cries. “I hate myself for feeling like this. Like the negative feelings I've been having about this pregnancy outnumber the positive ten to one and I’m worried that he or she or whatever can sense that. My body is currently not a positive environment for a child.”
"It'll be worth it. I know I can't know what it's like. I wish I was going through the same things with you."
His heart squeezes a little. Seungcheol had always really wanted kids, and it was something he'd always known. Jeonghan was the one who'd been unsure. And now that he's pregnant and Seungcheol's not, every time he hears Seungcheol talk about babies he's reminded of how the cosmic lottery fucked up when it put this baby in him instead.
"I wish you were, too. I'm sorry it was me and not you. My body's obviously not right, it's too risky, I'm hurting it-"
"Hannie, there's no one I'd rather have carrying my child than you. Not even me." Seungcheol is so earnest it hurts. "You don't have to have the perfect pregnancy to be the perfect father. And you'll always be my perfect man."
Jeonghan leans in to kiss him, and Seungcheol relaxes into his arms. It feels like coming home. His belly's in the way, and he can feel the pressure on it as Seungcheol presses closer, but holding his boyfriend like this is familiar. It's what he craves, after a long day of nothing. Seungcheol tries so hard. He's warm and sweet and he smells good, and he rubs calming little circles into Jeonghan's shoulder as they kiss.
Jeonghan wipes the tears from his eyes with the heels of his hands. "God, I'm a mess."
"I love you. Mess and all." Seungcheol murmurs. "And the baby knows you love it. It knows we love each other. It doesn't know me yet, but it'll know I love it soon."
"It knows you, Cheol. It kicks like crazy whenever you come home." Jeonghan presses closer, because the baby is moving around and he's hoping Seungcheol can feel it. "It loves you because I love you. I know it can feel how much I love you. And how happy I get whenever I see you. The baby can feel it too."
"It's kicking right now, isn't it?" Seungcheol's smile is part wonder, part love, and it's beautiful. Jeonghan melts a little in his arms.
"I told you. The baby loves your voice."
His stomach growls again. His cheeks color, knowing it's been less than two hours since the accident that got him in this mess, but Seungcheol chuckles. "Hungry?"
"A little, yeah."
"Good. I like that you're eating more recently. What are you feeling?"
He thinks for a minute. "Do we have rice pudding?" he asks, quiet and hopeful.
"For dinner?" Jeonghan pouts, and Seungcheol laughs. "Fine, but I'm making you eat vegetables too. Get some rest, okay?"
Jeonghan shakes his head, motioning to sit up again. Seungcheol's lips only twitch at the corners a little at the sight of his boyfriend struggling to roll over, which earns him a glare from Jeonghan. "I want to come sit on the couch and you can just talk. The baby really loves it. Help me, you jerk. Don't just stand there and laugh at me."
And Seungcheol sweeps him a little off his feet, taking some of his weight with an arm around his waist, a hand positioned protectively on his side. There used to be a time when Seungcheol could pick him up. It's long in the past now, but the sentiment is still there. His arms still feel the same. "Because you do."
He lays his head on Seungcheol's shoulder, nodding gently against his neck. "Because I do."
(As they make their way to the kitchen, Seungcheol gives his ass a light slap, and the baby wiggles happily as his heart flutters. Jeonghan adores this guy, he really does.)