Work Text:
Thirty. Pregnant. Half-gay. After a big fight with your husband, you find yourself puking in your best friend's toilet. Hair all over your face. Morning air stinking of vomit. An unhelpful Shoko standing at the door frame, twirling an unlit cigarette in her fingers and looking at you with, "such a disgusting scene," type of expression flickering in her dull, brown eyes. But you don't mind, ofcourse. You don't mind because that's... Shoko...
Anyways, there came another spurt of spit and undigested pizza from last night and strings of coke too. Tar. Black-brownish. Burning every cell in your throat. You gasped. Your one hand clutching at your four-months old bump. Your swollen breasts weighing you down. This is unbearable. You started to sink. Your knees giving up on your existence but before you could touch the white tiles below, you felt a soft hand coming to sweep back your untied hairs.
"You've always been like that." A raspy voice said to you. "Pukey." It grimaced. Putting a hand on your hand. Your now empty stomach squelching. Early morning winds sneaked inside the bathroom from the curtained window. You think of the first time you tasted liquor. You think of how your body reacted to it. You think of that night. Today is like that night too. Because after a certain point, you were done spilling your guts. You wanted to collapse. Shoko said, "then do. I'll get you."
And she did. Just like today.
After two hours, you woke up in her bed. Your mouth sour, tongue tasting of vomit. Your belly that has started to become apparent sitting in between your thighs. The blanket has ridden down your legs. And you would see some of the unshaven hairs poking out of the follicles. You condemn all those who glorify pregnancy. Because for you, those past four months were hell. And now you dread the remaining ones.
"Is pregnancy glow a real phenomenon?" You asked Shoko who came inside the room with a glass of orange juice and breads splayed with butter. You almost gagged at the sight of the food when your best friend of a long time sided the tray under your nose.
"I don't wanna eat." You said. Shoko doesn't seem to hear. Or maybe she did but she didn't think your words were worth a reply.
"It happens with most women." Placing the tray in your lap, she crawled to sit across from you on the bed.
"Clearly I'm not one of those women." You sighed. "I'm getting uglier. Is there something like "pregnancy doom" ?" You tried to laugh, but Shoko's unimpressed face made you hold back your tongue. For some reason— hormones— tears begin to pile up in your eyes and there you go... bawling for almost twenty minutes.
After the end of tenth, your best friend became aware that it wasn't just hormones. It was quarter anguish. Quarter pain. Quarter finding out that your husband decided to cheat on you when you're in this condition and the rest was oestrogen and progesterone.
When you finally quiet down, Shoko helped you with breakfast. Rolling the bread, stuffing it in your mouth. A sip of orange juice after every two bites. You kept on saying, "I don't wanna eat. I don't wanna eat. I don't wanna." And she kept on ignoring, ignoring and ignoring. By the time the bottom of the glass was up, you were done with three breads.
Shoko didn't force you to finish the rest. She looked at you, burping. Watched you looking so out of place. Everything about you was ugly. Your hair, they look greasy. Your face, it was blotted. Your eyes, there were bags under them. At that moment, she repeated the question you asked her some minutes ago in her head. And... yes. Shoko declared. There's something like pregnancy doom. And apparently, you're possessed by it.
"I want you to take a bath. You stink." Taking the tray, the doctor by profession and smoker by habit, your friend stood on her thin legs and left the room saying she's dropping a galaxy bath bomb in the tub for you. Barely excited, you snaked out of the bed. Found a loose, summery maternity dress in your heavy suitcase and followed the trails of Shoko's perfume. It reminds you of spring even though she herself looks like dead autumn. A tangy smell of cherry blossoms. Crisp air. March in July. March all season long. March is the best month.
Now sinking in the bathtub, you thought. You couldn't tell your tears from the color of water. Soap, bubbles, purple... you feel like you're rinsing in space. At the top of a black hole. The only difference is that, that this black hole doesn't suck. You sighed. Your stupid stomach poking out of the soap lather. Sometimes... you just want to forget that you've a parasite growing in you. That you've a seed sprouting to flower and slowly into a tree in you. You hate that. This... baby. Whatever it is. A girl or a boy. It will have its father's genes. A cheater genes. The thought hit you too hard. You started to scream and splash.
Standing here outside the bathroom door, Shoko can hear it all. But doesn't think it's necessary to go and console you. Because sometimes it's better to let people be with their sadness. So... she left.
When you came out of the bathroom, looking more wrecked than before, you found Gojo and Suguru, the two other people who've stuck with you as long as Shoko, slouched on the couch beside each other.
Gojo saw you first. Grinning, he said, "we heard you're here."
Suguru next to him scoffed. "More of like he heard from an auntie at the bar that Mrs. Katsu— that's you—had a great fight with Mr. Katsu— that's your good- for-nothing-husband. Is that true?"
Quietly, you nodded. Your eyes tumble to look at Shoko and then back on Gojo who cleared his throat to grab your attention. "So..." he trailed when you held his winter blue orbs, "...he... he... bamboozled?"
Two kinds of noises then filled Shoko's living room.
One was your sob, and another... well...
"Come here, (y/n)." Suguru breathed, patting the seat next to him that's Gojo-free now. You passed the white-haired man laying on the floor. Carefully so as to not stumble on his arm. He groaned with pain. But no one spared him even a glance.
You spent the next fifteen minutes crying and snorting in Suguru's shirt. He didn't mind. Shoko came only to tell you to shut up. You didn't mind. Gojo from the floor laughed at Shoko for something. She didn't mind. No one in the room cares for anything. Except you... maybe...
"Fuck that bastard!" Suguru shook with anger.
"He was a gunk from the start." Gojo grumbled.
"When are you two leaving?" Shoko asked, and the other two groaned.
Now the topic shifted from throwing insults at your cheater husband to Shoko who's a "soulless bitch" according to Gojo and a "a botherless hag" according to Suguru.
Their voices started to rise. Reaching a heart shaking pitch. Now it's a civil war. Now it's the time for you to slither out of this conversation and lock yourself in Shoko's room. Nobody noticed that you were missing from the scene until it was past 12 in the noon. They found you asleep on the floor. They said sorry to each other. They helped you in moving to the bed. They tucked you under the sheets like a baby. Because you always has been their baby. They love you so much that seeing you like this hurts. That's why they ate the cold pizza Suguru order for them several hours ago in silence. Three of them squeezed in the center couch. Three of them looking at a really boring black and white movie on the T.V.
It was decided long ago that after today, you will never step in that cheater's house ever. So when your phone rang under Gojo's buttocks, Suguru snatched it from him and gritted, "we're sending a serial killer after your ball less dick," and hung up.
At two or something, you woke up again. They all greeted you with big, fake, toothy smiles. You played along and pretended to appreciate it. When in all honesty you wanted them all to disappear and leave you alone.
But... they never left you alone.
Gojo and Suguru started to come down to Shoko's apartment almost daily. They would bring a lot of food they think "a pregnant woman like you will love" along with them. A new film suggestion. A new board game. Cards. "I saw this magazine and thought you'll like it." Gojo once said, handing you the said magazine the front page of which read: Mommies Love Wormies. "It's funny they called babies "wormies.""
He laughed at it for straight ten minutes while you stood staring blankly at a woman with a highly red face holding a quite ugly baby with golden hair. Soon you'll be that woman too. Holding your own baby too. You gagged at the picture. Isn't there a way to opt out? Isn't there a way to stop your belly from growing and growing and your breasts from becoming hard like rock some days and soft like sponge the others?
You ran straight to the bathroom to let the toilet taste the curry and rice you had for lunch. You can't do this anymore. You don't want to do this anymore.
On Tuesday the next week, your mother announced herself in. You locked yourself in the room. Sat there on the floor. Your back against the door. Right now... you hate her as much you hate this baby in your womb.
"Told her to put an end to this drama!" You could hear your mother hiss. "It's our personal matter and mind you three... you lot aren't family."
This ticked you off. She called you useless. You took it. She called you an "unpractical wife that couldn't keep her husband in her fist" you took it. You took everything. Each of her words. They started to hurt less as much as they used to in the past. In the past... when you were six, twelve, sixteen, eighteen... twenty...
But this is enough...
You jerked the door open. Stormed out. Watched all of the souls in the room turning to you. Heard Gojo yeet a joke that earned him an elbow in his kidney from Suguru. Felt Shoko looking at you with her tired brown eyes. You met her stare. Something about her face reminded you of your graduation day.
Certificates rolled up and topped with red ribbons. Black caps. Black gowns. Ankles flashing whenever the March winds blow. March... your favourite month. Starting and ending of life. New students in. Old students out. In one such March, you met Shoko. In one such March, you became friend with her. In one such March... you kissed her and lost her and found her again but as someone else's wife.
You called her on your wedding day. You asked, "where are you?" and she said, "I'm not coming..."
Because I couldn't stand watching you kiss somebody else that's not me.
You were a coward. You always have been. Mama's favourite toy. Mama's trophy. Mama said go and get good marks. (Y/n) got good marks. Mama said go and learn to sew. (Y/n) learned to sew. Mama said... "girls only love boys." (Y/n) beileved mama. Until (y/n) met one Shoko Ieiri and fell in love with her. Mama found out. Mama said, "this is disgusting!" Mama said, "I'll marry you to a good guy and then you'll forget about that hag." Mama married (y/n) to a good guy who turned out to be a womaniser. A fucker. A disgusting thing. (Y/n) told Mama about this. Mama said, "that's how boys are." But then (y/n) knew of two boys who are not like that. (Y/n) felt cheated. She has been cheated all her life.
"Mama...?" you breathed, tears drowning your sight, everyone else in the room fading.
"Oh, (y/n). I knew you must be hiding there. In that pathetic girl's burrow—"
"Her name is Shoko, Mama..."
"Yes, whatever, child. Just pack your things. Katsu is driving himself mad without you—"
"I hate him."
"He's your husband, (y/n)."
"I hate this baby in me..."
"Are you listening to what I'm saying, (y/n)?"
"Are you listening to what I'm saying, Ma!?"
You screamed. Your fist curling. Something in your tummy moving. The cheater's tadpole. Your mother fell silent, Shoko came to stand beside you. Her hand reached for your balled one.
"I said I hate him! And I hate you too! You fucked my life. You snatched the only good thing I had and now... you're talking about family...?"
You shook like a dumb leaf in autumn. You freed your hand from Shoko's hold. Used it to remove the ring that chained you to that man. A wedding attended by the murderers of your life. At the altar you sealed your fate with someone you didn't love.
But you tried. You won't stand taking blame for it. Because you tried, you tried, you tried...
"I tried to love him. But I failed..." You sobbed. "Here's a gift for him. Tell him to go to hell..."
Throwing the ring at her feet, you told Gojo to clean up the trash. Getting you, he showed the older woman the way out of the apartment. You ran to Shoko's room. But before you could shut the door close, Suguru screwed an arm between you and the solitude. He said, "we got you some new ice-cream flavours."
You couldn't help but broke. But before you could shatter and disperse, Shoko held you. She hugged you. First time in so many years. You started to hate that baby even more. For it sat there between you and her like a football. "I don't want this baby, Shoko! I hate this!" You wailed. "Please rip it out of me! Please..."
Shoko didn't say anything. She just sat there on the floor with you in her arms. Feeling pity. Not for you. But for this unborn thing in you. A month ago, it was the most lovely thing to you. A month ago, the phenomenon of "pregnancy glow" also happened to you. She didn't know whether you noticed it or not, but she did. She did when you drove down to meet her in the park near her apartment. You were the most beautiful thing aside from green grass and a shimmering lake. Your hair long and glossy. Cheeks glowing like a kid's. She gasped when she touched your hands. Because she has never touched anything as soft as them before.
But now...
"It's your child, (y/n)..." she hushed in your ears, her long fingers soothing your scalp, trying to calm down the storm in you. "All Katsu gave it is a sperm. It's you who are raising it... Don't be like your mother. It deserves better. You deserve better..."
Thirty. Pregnant. Half-gay. After deciding to break free from a toxic marriage, you find yourself sitting here at the dining table with a bowl of ice-cream in your hands. Your eyes watching three people who've loved you more than you ever loved yourself fighting and doing dishes in the kitchen. How they made it till thirty with such small sized brains is beyond your comprehension. But it's beautiful to know that even after so many years you all still string together like guitar wires. Sometimes giving a wonky tune and other times something more melodic.
"Are you thinking about your Rainbow Land?"
Last night Shoko asked when none of you could fall asleep.
"It sounds far away now..." was how you replied. "I gave up on the idea of it long ago."
"Too bad." She said. "Because I really loved the imagery of it. Do you still have that poem?"
"No... I burned it the day I met Katsu..."
"You burned away our world?"
"I'm sorry."
"I was joking."
"I'm sorry..."
And you started to cry. It wasn't hormones. It was just pure pain. The Rainbow Land. An imaginary world coined by someone in one of those American movies. You liked the sound of it so much that you ended up writing a poem on it. The day Shoko read it, she laughed so hard. You never get the chance to watch her laugh like this ever after.
Rainbow Land... a place for people who don't wanna grow up. For people like you. Like Shoko. Like Gojo. Like Suguru... your world. Rainbow Land... where everything is made up of the same material as clouds and dreams.
You blinked your eyes. Watch your ice-cream melt to a pool of viscous liquid. There's no way such a place can exist in reality. When you said this last night, Shoko smiled. You can feel the stretch of her lips even in the dark. "For once... this place existed. And we all were there in it. That was the year 2007."
"Will we ever have that year back?"
"Who knows..."
Staring at your ring-less hand, the white line that jewellery left around your finger, you felt the oestrogen and progesterone playing orchestra in your body. The boys joined you at the table. You saw a whole tub of ice-cream in Gojo's hand. Suguru was mumbling something under his breaths. Curses maybe because he had only one scoop in his share. Slightly you laughed, they looked at you. You felt a hand on your shoulder. Before you could turn, Shoko took your melted ice-cream and placed a bowl full of stout, healthy, frozen and steaming with vapours cream in your hands. You parted your lips to object. But when she smiled, you felt all of your words hitch in your throat. She bent to peck your lips. Gojo hooted like a drunk owl and Suguru couldn't help but snort at the scene.
"Four homos in the house!" Yelled the white-haired boy. Making everyone laugh. Shoko came to sit across from you on the small, square kitchen table. You looked at her. And immediately knew in your heart that... 2007 is back.
*:･ﾟ✧