Chapter Text
“Yoogi!”
The little girl’s howling laughter drew your attention from across the room. You were at a restaurant celebrating… something. One of the staff members that supported Yoongi and the rest of the guys. You weren’t sure Yoongi had actually told you what the dinner was for, but really, it didn’t matter. It had been so long since any of you had been out like this, you were all just excited to be out in the world. Even Yoongi, who normally was the last one to gather with 50 coworkers in a banquet room in some high-scale restaurant in Gangnam.
Yoongi had left you to go chat with a member of the staff--some assistant to someone important at Hybe--and had apparently gotten waylaid by one of the few younger children in attendance.
“He’s always been good with kids,” Jiyeun, one of Yoongi’s stylists, said from beside you. You supposed she would know. Jiyeun had had a baby a few years ago, and she’d been with the group since almost the beginning. She offered you a warm smile. “Jia just loves him. He’s going to be a great father someday.”
You had never considered it, but she was right. Yoongi was patient and kind, and he was a natural caretaker for both you and the other members. And seeing him now, talking with the little girl across the room, reacting enthusiastically to whatever story she was telling him… he would be a very good father.
That little revelation was all it took for you to start seeing it everywhere. The small waves he would give to babies staring at him at the grocery store. The little bits of knowledge he would try to impart on the younger members. It warmed you to know how caring he was, so why did it also leave a pit of dread in your stomach?
Did Yoongi want to be a dad?
You had never wanted children. Other people’s children were fine, but you had no desire for children of your own. The maternal instinct just wasn’t there, and having to constantly be aware and on top of things exhausted you. Children were loud, and expensive, and annoying. You couldn’t even fathom parenthood.
But Yoongi…
At some point, something in your brain clicked, something you didn’t like. But now that it was there, you couldn’t get it out of your mind. It seemed inevitable, and it terrified you.
“What are you thinking about?” Yoongi’s voice drew you out of your thoughts.
You hummed, pulling your eyes from out the window to look at him as he drove you back home. It was late, the streetlights reflected off his glasses as you passed under them. Yoongi had gotten back from the studio and suggested going for a drive.
“All week, you’ve been looking at me like I’m growing a second head.”
“Have I?” You hadn’t noticed. Maybe you’d been in your head more than you’d thought.
“Are you okay?”
At the stoplight, he reached over and squeezed your knee, his hand not leaving your leg as he watched you. Dark eyes searched your face, trying to find some hint as to what was bothering you.
“I’m okay,” you told him, offering him a smile. You took his hand, squeezing his fingers before intertwining them with your own. “Just been thinking about something one of the stylists told me at that Hybe dinner we went to.”
Yoongi frowned, and for a moment, you thought he was going to push the issue.
“It’s really not important,” you said softly. “Just made me think.”
“Something bad?”
“No, nothing bad.” You sighed. You really didn’t want to get into it, not now, not in the car. But he seemed so concerned. “Just that you’d make a good dad.”
“Oh.” You could see the flush spread across his cheeks in the dim light as he drove. He pushed up his glasses, turning to look at you. You could tell he was a little flustered just from the way he squeezed your hand. “And you’ve been thinking about that?”
For a moment, you said nothing. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. “We’ve never talked about it before,” you admitted slowly, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t know what your preferences are.”
Yoongi hummed, his eyes back on the road. Traffic was surprisingly heavy for how late it was. “I don’t want a big family. Namjoon wants like four kids and I think he’s fucking insane.” You chuckled at that, in spite of yourself. “One kid might be nice. Maybe two if the first one isn’t a monster.”
You nodded, feeling your heart already start to sink. The two of you had been together for a year and a half. You loved him--you were certain you wanted to spend your life with him. But this was a huge incompatibility. If he wanted to be a father, who were you to tell him he couldn’t?
Suddenly, it was cold in the car, despite the fact that Yoongi had the heater on to keep out the mid-November chill. You were tense, the air felt stuffy. Your pulse was still deafening in your ears. Apparently, you weren’t the only one feeling it, because as soon as Yoongi turned into the parking structure under your apartment building, he spoke again.
“Was that the wrong thing to say?”
You sighed, unsure of how to answer, how to tell him exactly what was going on in your mind. “No,” you told him quietly. “No, I-”
“Do you not want kids? That’s fine, too.” He killed the engine, turning in his seat to look at you.
“That’s not fair to you.” You could feel your throat tightening, but you tried to swallow it down. Crying wouldn’t help.
“Maybe if you thought about it?” he questioned hopefully, both of his hands encasing yours. “Like you said, we haven’t really talked about it, and there’s no way I’d want kids any time soon anyway. We could talk and maybe, if it’s just nerves-”
“It’s not just nerves. I don’t… I can’t …” You pulled away from him, wiping at your eyes even though no tears had fallen before crossing your arms. You could feel your heart beating from somewhere near the floor.
“You don’t want kids with me? Or you don’t want them at all?”
“It’s not you.” Your eyes met his, and you could feel the first tear escape. “God, Yoongi, it’s not you. I don’t have a motherly bone in my body and…” Your eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to stop any more tears. It didn’t work. “You deserve someone who can give you kids.”
“What?”
You’d never imagined that it would be a problem. You’d never dreamed of finding a partner you’d ever want to settle down with, so you never thought that your diagnosis or your preferences would ever actually matter. You didn’t often care about having sex, you didn’t want children, so when the doctor had told you that you couldn’t have children, it hadn’t mattered.
But now it did.
You told Yoongi everything. Sitting there in the passenger seat of his car in the car park under your shared apartment, you explained why you didn’t want kids, told him about the hormone imbalances, about how the doctors told you it was almost impossible. He listened patiently, his eyes never leaving you even though you refused to look at him. All the while, your thoughts continued to drift back to that one, niggling thought.
“It’s okay,” he said softly when you were done, offering you a napkin out of the center console to wipe your eyes. You could tell he wanted to do more to comfort you, but you were also glad he didn’t try. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It is, though.”
He shook his head. “We’ll get through it.”
“You want kids, though, Yoongi. Jiyeun was right. You’ll be a great dad. Your kids are going to love you.” Yoongi’s eyes widened, his mouth open to protest. But you were quicker. “You should be with someone who can give you the family that you want. You deserve that.”
“What are you saying?” You could hear the thickness in his voice, but you couldn’t stop.
“Maybe we just… aren’t meant to be.”
And there it was. Now that it was out in the open, it was like your brain opened up again, the niggling thought no longer distracting your mind.
Yoongi shook his head, you could see his eyes shining in the dim light of the parking garage, but you didn’t focus on that. You couldn’t, or you would break down. This was for the best. You had to be strong for him. Stoic and stolid, Yoongi was not.
He deserved more. More than what you could give him. He deserved a family. He deserved to get what he wanted. Yoongi deserved everything. And you couldn’t give it to him.
So you had to leave.
You kept telling yourself that as you leaned toward him, kissing his cheek gently. “I do love you,” you said softly. “But I think maybe I should go.”
The dome light came on when you opened the car door, and you made the mistake of making eye contact with him. His dark eyes were wide, filled with shock, and confusion, and devastation. Tears shone in his eyes, barely hanging on but not falling, not yet. He reached for you as you exited the car, barely missing your wrist.
You heard his door open as you started to walk away, hurried footsteps echoing off the concrete of the parking structure. “Stop!” he called, voice firm but thick with emotion. “Come upstairs. Sleep on it. We can talk about it more in the morning when we both have some time to think.”
When you turned around, he was only a few steps away. His car keys hung limply in his hand. He probably didn’t even register that he was holding them.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you told him softly, taking a step back as he stepped toward you.
“So this is it? All of a sudden? Just like that?” A single, fat tear escaped the corner of his eye and rolled down his cheek.
“Sometimes it’s easier to just rip off the band aid.” You sighed, arms wrapping around yourself. It was cold, but more than anything, you were hurting. “It’s not fair to you to expect you to give up on fatherhood just because I’m broken. I don’t want to do that to you, and I really don’t want us to be 50 and resent each other because we aren’t happy.”
“I wouldn’t-”
“You don’t know that. Please, just… let’s not make this harder than it needs to be.”
Yoongi swallowed thickly, his eyes falling to the ground between you. You could see that he was biting the inside of his cheek to try to keep himself composed. But he nodded. “Where will you go?” His voice was soft, broken. Defeated, almost.
“I… don’t know.” You hadn’t actually thought about it. “My studio, I guess. For now.”
“For what it’s worth, I wish you would reconsider,” Yoongi said weakly. “I love you. So much.”
“I know.”
“Stay safe, jagi.”
You nodded. “You too, Yoon.”
You turned then, walking out of the parking garage and back out into the mid-November air. Despite the late hour, the streets were still fairly busy. You opened your phone app.
Behind you, the elevator dinged.