Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

PART 1.

— To be alone, is not to be lonely. A year before, Sieun was alone. He did not crave company nor a friend by his side. When he studied deep into the night, he felt a sense of loss, yes; of displacement, feeling as though he had no place in the world beyond mathematical formulas and graded papers, but that is something entirely different than loneliness. 

Sieun had never once felt truly lonely before he met an alpha named Ahn Suho. 

This must be what it feels like to yearn and long. Sitting at the side of a hospital bed in a chair stiffer than his bones. Blood on his shirt, iron on his tongue, tears in his eyes that he can not stop from streaming down his cheeks. Sieun cannot remember the last occasion in which he allowed himself to cry before this moment, because usually he could keep it all together. All his turmoil, his emotions, he kept them at bay, twined under tight wraps. The most that would slip out would be his violence, red and ugly, but never something as soft, as vulnerable as this. 

Sieun is his own person. He raised himself from dirt, picked himself up off the gravel when he fell, learned to dress and bandage his own wounds when his parents were too occupied with arguing over their own matters ( Him ) to notice another new injury on their weak-healthed pup. For so long, he has depended on himself, and yet…

He does not know how to function without Suho, his alpha. When he attempts to study in his bedroom, he can only hear Suho’s voice in his ear; Yah, haven't you had your nose stuffed in that book all day? In the shower, he feels Suho’s hands on his waist in place of his own, Suho’s fingers gliding along his sudsy skin. In the kitchen, unwrapping a triangle of kimbap, Suho’s nagging at the back of his brain — No wonder you're so tiny. How are you gonna live long if you don't eat well, huh?

Suho had become such a large part of his daily routine, taking up so much of Sieun’s time, that without him here… His life feels desolate and empty. He has no school to attend. In the aftermath of it all, his father thought it best that he complete his studies online. He has no friends to keep up appearances with — Friendship got him into this situation in the first place. He only has Suho, Suho, Suho, and the days that pass with no changes in his condition.

Five days out of the week, Sieun visits. Youngyi is never there. He tries her number out of curiosity, once. An automated voice tells him it is no longer in service. Her silent departure does not hurt as much as it should've. He leaves her contact to gather dust in his phone, changes the flowers at Suho’s bedside, and he… What is he doing? Is he waiting? The doctors, with consent of Suho’s halmeoni, solemnly tell him that they have Done all that they can for now. Any improvement in his alpha’s condition will depend on Suho, and Suho only.

He brings his laptop and notebooks to the hospital, sitting in the waiting room until visiting hours open, where he then migrates to Suho’s unit. He takes a seat on the chair at the bedside and begins his schoolwork. When he finishes, he packs his things away, sits, and… Stares. There is not much else to do. Sieun has never felt the need to entertain himself. If anything, when he was with Suho, the alpha kept him enamored enough.

The nurses now know him by face and name. They have pity in their eyes; sympathy. He ignores their pitiful gazes, because their pity will not change anything. Their sympathy will not bring Suho back to him. Nothing in the world could turn back time and make it so Suho never stepped in that boxing ring; that they never approached the alpha who smelled of lavender. Nothing anyone could do would make the situation any better.

The date is September 7th. 

When Sieun wakes up today, nearly two months since Suho has been comatose, he already knows that it will not be a good day. Recently, he has been feeling worse and only chops it up to the weather getting colder, thus bringing an influx of common ailments and pesky stomach bugs. In the darkness of his room, he picks the crust from his eyes and heads to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

That is when the first wave of nausea hits him as he is brushing his teeth. His stomach lurches and his toothbrush clatters into the porcelain sink as he hurries to collapse over the toilet where he hurls everything he’d eaten the night before into the bowl. He pants once his stomach has been emptied, swallowing the sticky saliva and leftover bile.

He does not have a fever, and he was feeling quite alright the day before. Could it be his food just not settling correctly? He has been having some rather odd cravings lately, they were bound to catch up to him at some point. Sieun picks himself back up, flushes the toilet, then washes his hands and resumes getting ready.

He washes his face and dresses in warm clothes without incident. He packs his books and laptop into his bag, ignoring the texts on his phone from his father and ordering a rideshare to take him to the hospital. The drive there is quiet. When they reach the tall building, he quietly thanks the driver and steps out into the cold air.

Leaves on trees are only just beginning to take on colorful hues. The air is just chilly enough for a light jacket — a red windbreaker, baggy on Sieun’s shoulders as it is two sizes too big, because it is not his. It is Suho’s. He hasn't washed it since receiving it (Suho's halmeoni practically forced him into taking some of Suho's clothing, reasoning that as his omega, it was only right) and that can't be sanitary, but he can't bring himself to wash away Suho’s scent. It smells so heavily of his alpha, given he wore it every hour of the day, and he's sure that just regular detergent wouldn't even be enough to fully draw the citrusy, lemongrass aroma from the fabric, however, Sieun doesn't care.

The nurse at the front desk greets him when he comes inside. His arrival is just twenty minutes after visiting hours opened up which means he is able to head straight to Suho. A nurse is changing his IV bag when he enters and he recognizes her as Suho's main caretaker, who told him that he can call her Nurse Chae. She gives him a small smile.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” she greets him. She's an older woman who, if he had to guess, was around his parent’s age, and an omega like him. She had features that were mature and soft with age as well as dark hair that was wisped with gray and always pulled back in a neat bun. Her scent blockers are medicine grade, but her perfume smells like cherries. 

“Good morning,” Sieun murmurs back. He sets his things on the table by Suho’s bed and that's when it hits him again. Another wave of nausea. The meager breakfast he forced down is on its way back up and he rushes to the ensuite lavatory, barely able to open the toilet lid before he is retching and gagging into the bowl once more.

The tap, tap, tap of Nurse Chae’s kitten heels follow him as well as her concerned voice speaking up — “Oh, no,” she frets, flicking the light on. “Are you sick, honey?”

Sieun spits into the bowl. “I don't know,” he admits rather pathetically. The nurse clicks her tongue.

“We can't have that. You go ahead and sit down, and I'll get some things to check you out alright?”

Sieun obeys and collapses into the chair by the bedside. His mouth tastes like bile once again but there is nothing he can do about that right now. He stays put, staring at Suho until Nurse Chae returns with a rolling cart of items. 

“Alright. I'll start with taking your temperature, hm? Just a little tap.”

He doesn't flinch when she presses the forehead thermometer to his skin, holding the trigger until it beeps. She hums as she reads it.

“Doesn't look like you have a fever,” she murmurs, sounding troubled. “How long have you been throwing up for?”

Sieun swallows. “It just started today,” he replies, earnestly. 

“Mm… And how have you been feeling lately, psychically and emotionally? Tired? Anxious?”

He pauses. He hasn't felt anything but numb since Suho was put to sleep, but he tries to put his feelings into words.

“...Tired, yes,” he confirms. “I've been nesting a lot. It might be food poisoning. I've been having some odd cravings lately.”

At that, Nurse Chae cocks her head, her demeanor shifting in a way he can't put his finger on. “Cravings?” She parrots. “What sort of cravings?”

Sieun shrugs. “Mostly things Suho used to eat,” he practically whispers. “Ox bone soup, bulgogi… His halmeoni’s samgyetang…”

“All things you never typically eat, yes?”

Sieun nods, slowly. Oh. He hadn't realized until this moment that he typically wouldn't touch hearty meals like those, as they were Suho’s favorites, not his own. When he looks up, Nurse Chae has a strange look in her eye.

“Sweetheart,” she starts, voice tender. “I don't mean to be invasive, but… Do you remember when your last heat cycle was?”

The teen’s brain fizzes like a shaken soda bottle at the question. Indeed, he remembers his last cycle — a whole half a year before. He’d spent it with Suho, of course, and it had been the most wonderful few days of his life. 

But, wait.

His cycles come right on time, usually. Every three months, like clockwork. Which means that Sieun should've had another cycle a whole three months ago, and his heart drops into his gut at the realization of what the Nurse is asking him.

“I-i’m not —” His voice cracks. He swallows and tries again. “I'm not pregnant,” he firmly denies. “The only person I've ever slept with is Suho, and the last time we had sex was before his accident. Even then, we used protection.”

If the situation weren't so tense, he’d be embarrassed to air out his private business like this. Nurse Chae’s expression doesn't change.

“Protection isn't always fool proof,” she tells him quietly. “Did the condom ever break on you? Even once?”

Sieun racks his brain, searching through his memories, thinking back on all the occasions he and Suho have been intimate until one in particular plays out in his mind. His mouth feels dry, remembering the so-called knot resistant condom had indeed busted during Suho’s rut back in June, but it was only once. Only one time. Sieun had thoroughly washed himself out the moment his alpha swelled down and even taken a 30,000 won contraceptive pill afterwards for extra safety. 

Not safe enough , apparently.

“If you’d like,” Nurse Chae starts again. “I can run a pregnancy test on you just to be sure. If you aren't pregnant, then we can cross out that possibility. How does that sound, honey?”

Sieun can only swallow and nod. He, unfortunately, has to leave Suho’s room for the test to be performed. He's given a cup to pee in. Nurse Chae tells him the results will be out within minutes. Eight long, anxious minutes of waiting before the tests - plural - can be read.

Somehow, even before Nurse Chae gives him folded lips and soft eyes, he knows. Even before he sees the double lines on the white sticks, he knows. Sieun is quiet, the only sounds being the bustle of the staff outside the room, because what can he possibly say in this situation?

He's pregnant. There's a pup, maybe even two, inside his belly, and they're Suho’s. At seventeen years old, he is bearing pups. He hasn't even graduated highschool yet, hasn't even gotten his driver's license or gone to college, hasn't even moved out of his father’s apartment. Some days, he can barely get out of bed because of how much his emotions overwhelm him. Some days, he thinks of his life and wishes he would have died before he took his first breath.

How is he anywhere near ready to care for a whole child ? On his own, at that? The realization that Suho’s child is in his belly yet his alpha is not present to hear the news… Something cracks in his chest, like the ice of a frozen lake, and he is falling into the depths of the cold, icy water. 

Nurse Chae’s words can do nothing for him. She must realize that there is not anything she can say that will help him, for she pats his head and leaves him be. He returns to Suho's unit, his schoolwork forgotten as he gazes at the alpha. His alpha. He is barely recognizable these days. His golden tan has washed out, and his muscle mass is steadily decreasing by the day. Sieun can not even delude himself into believing he is simply sleeping, because if he calls his name, Suho won't rise like the light sleeper he is. If he traces his cheeks, his features won’t twitch. If he climbs into the bed, those arms won't wrap around him and sleepily tug him close.

Sieun gets his work done on autopilot. He only eats when his stomach rumbles angrily at him, forcing down some of the bland cafeteria food, stomach lurching in a way that tells him he may or may not vomit it right back up. He does not, and when a Nurse comes to gently inform him he has to leave due to the visiting window closing, his body moves before his brain can truly comprehend it.

The night is cold. Suho’s windbreaker is barely enough to keep him warm as he climbs into a cab. On his phone, there are more texts from his father — Oh, right. He has to tell his parents about this, does he not? Or, at the very least, his father, the man whose name is on the lease of their apartment. Yet… Sieun’s fingers are hesitant to type on the keyboard. When he reaches the apartment and hikes up the stairs, he’s decided he won’t deal with it at all at this moment.

Despite the information that has been revealed, Sieun still follows his nightly routine closely. He puts his bag and Suho’s jacket in his room. He leaves his shoes in the foyer, then heads to the bathroom for a shower. He turns the knobs until the water is hot, the stream providing him with some white noise that soothes his brain.

However, when he undresses he doesn’t immediately climb in. He, instead, wipes the forming fog off of the mirror and looks closely at his body. When he turns to the side, there is the slightest hint of a swell forming at his belly. It just looks like he ate too fast or too much and is heavily bloated, but Sieun knows better. He swallows and gets into the stall.

The warm water cascading over his skin brings a plethora of phantom touches. If he closes his eyes, he swears he can feel his alpha’s fangs nipping his ear lobes. If he tunes his ears just right, that is Suho’s voice behind him, telling him he’s so pretty and soft as he grips the extra fat on his hips. Sieun wants to curl up in the corner of the shower and sob his lungs out. He doesn't. Once he's clean, he steps out, towels off, and heads to his room.

His bed has been in near permanent state of nesting for weeks now. It smells heavily of Suho, but he knows it won't last. However, it’s enough for now, and once he’s dressed he curls up inside of it. His alpha’s scent swarms around him. Here, he feels safe from all the horrors of the world, soothed from all his stress and turmoil. 

He falls asleep without any second thoughts. 

Come morning, Sieun is feeling even worse than the previous day. Checking his phone, it is a Saturday. He's not scheduled to visit Suho today, and he has no schoolwork, which means he is free to rot and decay in his nest for as long as he wishes to. Sieun blinks a few times, letting his thoughts comethoughts to come to him.

He is pregnant. There is a tiny human embryo incubating in his belly right now and at some point he’ll have to inform his parents about it. But when , is the question? His father is home slightly more often than he was, trying to force some semblance of a bond between him and Sieun, but he barely sees any of his mother these days. And even then… When has he ever spoken to her about large events in his life?

As though speaking of the Devil, there is a knock on his doorjamb where he'd left the door open the previous night. It is his father, giving him an awkward smile — “Morning,” he greets quietly. “I ordered some breakfast.”

On cue, Sieun’s stomach rumbles softly, reminding him he hadn't eaten much the previous day due to his nausea; his morning sickness. He produces some spit in his dry mouth to reply.

“I'll be out in a second,” he responds, and his father nods, his footsteps fading down the hall. When did the beta come home? He couldn't have been there the previous night, he must have arrived either after Sieun went to sleep, or early in the morning. He probably texted about his upcoming arrival, but Sieun never checked his messages. There's no one who he cares about enough to keep up with.

Sieun steps out of his nest, immediately missing the warmth and familiarity of it, and slips on his house shoes to shuffle to the kitchen. His father is opening up containers of what looks like pollack soup, as well as setting out grilled mackerel and side dishes onto the table. When he sees his son, he smiles.

“Did you have a nice rest?” He asks, an attempt at conversation. Sieun nods, like he always does, then hesitates before replying verbally.

“I did,” he confirms quietly. His father looks surprised, and for good reason — Sieun typically never entertains his attempts to speak to him. The beta gets over the shock fairly quickly.

“Good, good. How’s school going? I checked your gradebook the other day and everything's looking good. You still planning on SNU?”

Sieun breaks apart his chopsticks, placing a piece of mackerel on his spoon as well as some soup broth. He eats that before he answers, humming at the rich flavor.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. After that, the table falls silent. The only sound is the clink of utensils and the smack of their lips. To Sieun’s father, the silence is probably a comfortable one, but to the omega, it is full of nerves. This is his chance to break the news to his father. But, how ? He himself has barely processed it, but it's better now, than never, right?

“...Abeoji?”

The man hums in acknowledgement. Sieun sips another spoonful of broth to buy himself some time.

“I …” Should he say he has something to tell him? Or say it outright? In the end, Sieun decides to take the latter route.

“I'm pregnant.”

The beta freezes. His spoon, halfway to his mouth, pauses mid-air, broth dripping back into the bowl. He looks at Sieun like he hadn't heard him right.

“You're… what ?” He repeats, astonished. “Sieun, what -”

“I'm pregnant,” he repeats, only slightly more confident. “And I'm keeping it.”

His father sets his spoon down. “...Sieun,” he starts, tone careful, like he is picking his words cautiously. “You're only seventeen. You haven't even graduated highschool yet. Having a pup this young would ruin your life —”

“Like I ruined yours?”

Sieun didn't mean to say that. It had just come out on its own, but the damage is done. His father's face drops.

“No, Sieun, you didn't ruin —”

“I did,” he interrupts quietly, his tone flat. “You don't have to hide it. You and Eomma were adults when you had me, but neither of you were ready for any pups. I ruined your life, but my pup won't ruin mine.”

With that, he stands, appetite diminished to atoms as he heads back to his room. Part of him expects his father to tail him and he doesn't know how to feel when the man lets him go. His chest feels tighter than it did before, and his mouth feels dry.

He still has two more people to tell. Or, one, given he's sure his father will inform his mother, which means that Sieun only has to handle Suho’s halmeoni. How will she react? Will she be angry? Will she have the same reaction as his father? He is unsure, but he has never liked procrastinating, and so, he gets himself dressed.

It goes unsaid that he will not be able to comfortably stay in the apartment, not as long as his father is home. When he emerges from his room the beta is still at the kitchen table and stands up when Sieun reappears.

“Can you sit back down, please?” He asks, practically begging. “We can talk about this. This is a big decision —”

“There's nothing to decide,” Sieun cuts him off, pulling on his sneakers and lacing them up. “It's my pup. I'm keeping it.”

Not just his. Suho’s. This is Suho’s pup in his belly, he knows how badly Suho wanted to become a father. Maybe not now, when they're still so young, yet he knows that, nonetheless, the alpha would be brought to tears if he were here to witness it. He is out the door before his father can try to bargain with him.

He taps on halmeoni’s contact in his phone and waits by the steps as it rings. Three rings in, she picks up.

“Hello? ”

Sieun wets his lips. “Good morning, halmeoni,” he greets quietly. The woman coos, almost.

“ Oh! Hello, Sieunie. Good morning to you too, ” the line crackles. “ I didn't know you’d be calling. Is something wrong, puppy? ”

Why does her voice make his eyes burn? He blinks away his tears as the wind tickles his cheeks, trying to figure out an appropriate response. He must be quiet for a moment too long as she's speaking again.

“ Why don't you just come on over, hm? I'll make you some good food, and you can talk to halmeoni about whatever's in your little head. ”

Sieun’s chest aches. “Okay,” he practically whispers. Halmeoni hums.

“ Alright then. I'll see you soon, puppy. ”

She hangs up. Sieun is blinking wetness from his eyes on his way down the stairs and the whole cab ride to her home. The fat little cat she cares for, Ara, is sitting on the porch chair grooming her paw when he rings the bell.

He can hear halmeoni call for him to come in, and he opens the screen door, stepping into the foyer and toeing off his shoes. He sniffs as he exchanges them for house slippers and pads into the kitchen where halmeoni is setting some steaming dishes on the table.

“Hi, puppy,” the older omega greets him, waving him over for a hug. It's warmer than anything he's ever felt before and feels like all his hopes and dreams encapsulated into one person.

“You're not visiting my boy today, are you?” She asks him, referring to Suho. Sieun shakes his head slowly, and she hums.

“Well then, come on and sit down. Have you eaten yet?”

Sieun sets his bag onto the floor. “A little,” he replies, mouth watering at all the delicious home cooked before him. The store ordered pollack soup was nice, but nothing would ever beat halmeoni’s food. She leaves him as he eats, humming while she washes dishes. Sieun is so lost in the warmth of the food that he nearly forgets what he came there for. Mid-bite, he remembers, and he swallows down a spoonful of rice.

“...Halmeoni,” he starts, quiet. Nervous. His father’s reaction did not matter to him, but halmeoni — halmeoni genuinely cares for him, and has since the moment she met him. He tries again.

“Halmeoni,” he repeats, voice a bit firmer. “I have something to tell you.”

The woman shelves some dishes in the drying rack. “What is it, puppy?”

Sieun hesitates, fixes his lips, then hesitates again. It's two simple words. Why is it so difficult to get them out? After what feels like an eternity, he finally gets them to stick to his tongue.

“I'm pregnant.”

Some part of him expects her to drop the soapy dish she's scrubbing into the water. To whirl around with big eyes, asking him to repeat what he just said. Instead, she only laughs.

“I was wondering when you’d notice,” she says instead, tone gentle and amused. “Those hips of yours have been getting wider every time I see you, did you know that?”

Sieun blinks. He hasn't noticed any changes in his body, save for his belly. “You…” his voice is quiet. “You knew…?”

Halmeoni laughs. “Of course I did. Us omegas, we smell a certain way, look a certain way when we’re bearing pups — and last week, I dreamed of persimmons. I knew it wasn't me or any of my folk, so it had to be you.”

Something like relief washes over Sieun. It overwhelms him, even, to the point where he has to grab a napkin and wipe at his eyes. 

“You're not… upset?” He asks carefully. Halmeoni turns off the sink, strips off her gloves, and comes over to him.

“Now why would I be upset with you, puppy?” She says, almost scolding him. “You're a little young, but I wasn't too old myself when I had my son. I'm just happy my Suho-yah is able to give me some grandchildren.”

She pats his cheek, pinching it with damp fingers. “Do you know how far along you are?” She questions him, and Sieun shakes his head.

“I only found out yesterday,” he confesses, and the older omega clicks her tongue.

“Then we can see the doctor today. How does that sound, puppy?” 

Sieun nods. Hesitates. “I'm going to go and lay down,” he tells her, and she hums.

“Go, go. All that tiredness will only get worse when the pup gets bigger.”

Suho’s room is where he heads to. The alpha’s bed is still just as he left it the last time he came in here, as though Suho had just rolled out of it and would be back at the end of the day. Sieun knows better. He draws the curtains shut and slips under the blankets, inhaling the scent of his alpha strewn throughout them. He got a full eight hours of rest the night before, yet his eyes are drooping as he stuffs his face into Suho’s pillow.

His mind drifts into a dream. A memory, actually, formed in this very bed. The room is dark, and their bodies are warm and bare, skin slippery with sweat after they've had each other. Suho’s fingers are rubbing the curve of his hip, his lips brushing the sweat slick skin of Sieun’s forehead — forming words there.

I think… he’d said, voice so soft, so gentle. …That I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, Sieunie.

He is woken abruptly by the vibration of his phone in his pocket. He blinks a few times, reality reluctant to come back to him, and when it does, he almost wants to throw the device across the room and resume dreaming. Instead, he pulls it from his pants and squints at the screen.

Eomma is what it reads. Sieun already knows what she is calling him about. Nonetheless, he answers the call.

“Sieun! ” Immediately, she's in his ear before he can even murmur a greeting. “ Sieun, where are you? You need come back to your father’s apartment right now so we can talk —”

“There's nothing to talk about,” Sieun murmurs, emotionlessly. “I already said I've made up my mind.”

With that, he hangs up, uncaring of what else the omega who birthed him has to say. Of course, she tries to call him back, but he only declines it before he shuts his phone down.

Well. There goes his plans of rotting all day. Since he has been so rudely awakened, he might as well go to the doctor’s now. He rolls out of Suho’s bed and puts his slippers back on to search for halmeoni. 

He finds her in the kitchen packing up Tupperware containers and changed into suitable day clothes. “Did you have a good nap, puppy?” She asks. “I've got some food here for you to take home. You need to eat well, or the pup will be small like you.”

If it were anyone else, he would take offense to those words, but halmeoni means no harm. He puts on his shoes in the foyer and waits for her to collect her bag before they are off.

The clinic that halmeoni takes him to is just fifteen minutes away by car. When they reach the entrance, Sieun’s stomach begins to flip. Oh, part of him truly hopes they do not accept walk-ins, because really, he isn't ready to confront this yet. Unfortunately, they do, and within fifteen minutes Sieun is sitting in the waiting room with a clipboard to fill out paperwork.

Looking around, the other patients appear to be older than him. A few give him strange looks that he ignores and instead scribbles on the paper with the pen. The paperwork is filled out eventually, and he is told to wait until his name is called.  Halmeoni hums as they wait. The sound is soothing to him, as is her soft scent, and his flared nerves are slowly calmed.

The door to a backroom swings open. 

“Yeon Sieun-ssi?” 

Sieun stands, wiping his palms on his slacks to follow the nurse into an examination room.

First, he is given a cervical and pelvic exam. It's uncomfortable, having a stranger's fingers poking around his most intimate place, but he understands it is necessary. 

They tell him everything is swell, in that aspect, as they record his height and weight.

“You’re quite small,” The nurse comments, furrowing her brows as she records his statistics. “And with your age, also, this pregnancy could have some complications come your due date.”

Sieun tries not to stress too much over that.

After he has redressed, he is led to a different room, with a different nurse.

“Good morning,” The man greets, a tall beta with blond hair and glasses.  “My name is Nurse Yoojung, I hope today has been treating you well. Is this your first pup?”

Sieun swallows and settles into the cot. Halmeoni takes a seat in a chair in the corner, nodding at him.

“Yes,” he replies quietly, receiving a hum as the nurse begins to set up the equipment. He had thought it would be fairly obvious that he is a first time mother given how young he appears.

“Mm… Are you nervous?” The nurse asks. “It's alright if you are. It takes a lot out of someone to have a pup - can you lay back and pull your shirt up for me?”

The teen silently does just that. He is a bit weary about being exposed in front of a stranger but he knows the nurse — a beta, from what he can tell — is only doing his job.

“This gel is gonna feel really cold,” the beta warns him. “Are you ready?”

Sieun nods. He shivers as the green goo is spread over the skin of his belly, just barely beginning to swell up. The machine flickers to life and his eyes peer over at the monochrome contents of it as the wand is waved over his belly.

“And there they are!” The nurse tells him cheerily. “That's your pup. From the looks of it, I'd say you're about four months along.”

Four months. A pup has been growing inside of his belly for four entire months. He thinks back to all the people he’d fought, all the damage he’d taken, how this little pup had come so close to ceasing to exist before he even knew they were there. Sieun’s head spins at the information.

“...Are you sure?” He asks wearily. He hears halmeoni laugh in the corner, and the nurse smiles at him.

“I'm sure,” he assures him. “More people than you think don't start showing until about five or six months, and some hardly show even then. It varies, depending on the person. Would you like to know the gender?”

“Yes, please,” Sieun whispers, eyes glued to the ultrasound screen. The blob is not particularly infant shaped and he feels no certain attachment to it. Should that concern him?

“Alright. Hm…” The nurse peers at the screen, studying it intently. “Well, it looks like you're having a healthy baby girl. At this stage, she's about the size of an avocado , and in about a week, she’ll be the size of a turnip. Isn't that fascinating?”

It is indeed. How can something so small, so miniscule, possibly ever grow to survive in such a cruel, merciless world? 

Sieun and halmeoni leave the clinic with a manila folder of ultrasound photos, a first time parent pamphlet, and a discount voucher for baby supplies. His second appointment is scheduled for a month in the future and he stares at the cream white appointment card.

He still can't believe it even though the fact has now been medically confirmed. He's seen the pup in his belly, heard her little heart beating, yet he still can't wrap his head around the fact that she’s inside of him and has been for quite some time now.

Sieun quietly asks halmeoni to take him home. He misses his nest, suddenly, and wants to spend the rest of the day curled up in it, ignoring the outside world. She drops him off with several containers of home cooked food, a hug, and a kiss on his forehead. Sieun types in the door code and steps inside —

— Only to be greeted by the scent of roses and vanilla. It is not unfamiliar. Though they are not close, he can indeed recognize his mother’s scent within a few moments, and soon enough, the omega herself is in front of him. She looks at him, up and down from his head to his toes, eyes lingering on the manila folder he carries.

“Where were you?” She asks sternly. He almost wants to laugh as he realizes she's almost, almost acting like a parent. Instead, he slips his shoes off and puts them by the door.

“Out,” he replies, his words curt and vague. He takes the containers to the kitchen and unpacks them into the refrigerator. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see his father in the living room wringing his hands.

“ Sieun, ” his mother hisses, sighing. “Please be serious. This isn't some small thing —”

Sieun closes the refrigerator, ignoring her as she speaks and heading to his room. Usually, he always took off his outside clothes before curling up in his nest, but he can't be bothered to do that right now, collapsing into his nest as his mother continues speaking.

“How could you be so irresponsible?” She's lecturing him. “First, you get expelled. And now you've been sleeping around without protection? Really, Sieun? I thought I raised you better than that.”

Ha. If he weren’t so tuckered out, he could laugh at how she’s leaping to conclusions, going off of what her brain has conjured up instead of thinking to ask her son about anything. He wants to say that no one has ever touched him in any way except for his alpha, but he doesn't have the energy to waste words on her. The response that comes out of him is short and blunt.

“You didn't raise me at all.”

The woman goes quiet. She clearly had not been expecting that sort of reply.

 “...What?” She asks, as though she hadn't heard him right. Sieun is staring at the wall beside his nest. His ears are ringing.

“Get out,” he says instead of repeating himself, his voice a weak plea when it should be a demand. “Please. I don't want to talk to you. There's nothing I have to say to you.”

“No, Sieun,” His mother refuses, trying again. She sounds slightly more agitated. “We need to have this conversation —”

Perhaps it is childish of him to burrow himself in his blankets and press them over his ears to muffle the sound of her speaking. He hears her voice stop at some point, presumably when she realizes he is not listening, and the sound of his door closing. Only then does he come back to the surface.

His room is dark and empty. On his lonesome once more, he sits up, flicks on his bedside lamp, and pulls out the manila folder to look at the ultrasound photos of his pup. Suho’s pup. Their pup. He shuffles through them all, chest tight and painful.

How is he going to do this on his own? He can't trust his parents, they couldn't even manage to raise him. He has Suho’s halmeoni, but she can only do so much. There's so much to do, so much to prepare for. Will Suho even be awake by the time their pup is born?

Will Suho even wake up at all? 

Sieun clenches his fingers into a fist, almost crushing the ultrasound papers. He hadn't thought of that until now — the possibility that Suho will never open his eyes again. That he will never know of their pup. Sieun gazes down at the photos once more. He doesn't think he has ever felt more lost or stricken than he does now.

A knock on his door brings him out of his thoughts. Even if he had the energy to reply, he wouldn't have been able to for it cracks open half a moment later, revealing his father. The man is visibly tense and nervous as he stands in the doorway. He looks like he’s about to speak, however, when he sees the ultrasound photos in Sieun’s grasp, he pauses.

After a full moment of silence, his lips part. “I know you want to be alone right now,” he starts, clearly picking his words carefully. “But… Your mother has to leave in a few hours. She left work abruptly to come here, and can't stay for long. Will you come out and talk to us? Please, Sieun?”

Of course. Because it was never about him, was it? Of course she can't even take a few days off to wait until he's ready. Of course it's always about someone else and the inconvenience it’ll pose to them. Always them, and never him. Still, Sieun swallows.

“Okay.”

His father’s shoulders visibly sag in relief, and he nods. “We’ll be in the living room. Come out when you’re ready.”

Sieun doesn't think he’ll ever be ready for this conversation, but does he really have a choice? It would be better to get it over and done with. He tucks the photos back into the manila folder, debating leaving it in his nest, but ultimately deciding to bring it out with him. He slips on his house shoes and shuffles out to the living room where both his parents are stationed.

The silence is loud and tense. His parents are perched on opposite ends of the couch as though they can barely stand to be within the same vicinity as each other. Sieun tersely takes a seat in the armchair and waits for someone to speak.

His mother bites the bait. “Do you know who the father is?” She asks, straight to the point, because she's a woman of business. She doesn't like to beat around the bush. Sieun shuffles in his spot.

“I have an alpha,” he replies, his voice quiet. His mother purses her lips.

“That boy in the coma?”

His father sharply shoots her a look. Sieun’s eye twitches.

“His name is Suho,” he says, blankly, and his mother flicks her nails.

“...It wouldn't be ideal to have a pup this young,” she starts, and he knows where she is going with this. “It was hard enough for me and your father, and we were adults when we had you. Have you even thought about the decision you're making?”

He hasn't had much time to. Even if he had, his mind would still be made up. Yes, he is young, and hadn't ever intensely thought of having pups before, but the thought of birthing his child, Suho’s child, just to hand them away to someone else… It makes his chest tight.

“It's my pup,” he replies at last. “I'm keeping her.”

He doesn't really mean to let the pronoun slip, but it's out, and he watches both his parents' reactions. His father’s eyes flash, and his mother’s throat bobs.

His father breaks the silence. “How far along are you?” He asks, more gentle and less harsh than his mother, and Sieun’s eyes flick down to the manila folder. He’s apprehensive before he extends it to the beta.

“Four months.”

The man frowns with confusion. “But… You don't look…” he trails off as he opens the folder. His mother rolls her eyes at his words.

“It's genetic,” she explains curtly. “Like all the other omegas on my side of the family, he won't show much, if at all.”

Her eyes peek over at the folder. She does not want to get close to her ex-husband, but is also clearly curious to see the ultrasound photos. Mercifully, her father passes over the folder.

“If you're so insistent on keeping it…” she says, slowly looking through the photos. “...Then you’ll have to find somewhere to stay. This place isn't fit to raise a pup.”

His father gives her an alarmed look. “I'm not kicking out our son — ”

“I didn't say that,” his mother snaps, annoyed. They're reverting back to their old ways, slowly but steadily, arguing over him as though he isn't there. “I'm saying there's no place to set up a crib here, or for the pup to use their walker when they're old enough. A child requires space, and there's barely any here.”

So many things to plan out in a nine month time span. So many things to prepare for before the little embryo inside of his belly is ready to come out. His head aches with the upcoming stress that will surely weigh down on him. He wishes Suho were here. He’d kiss behind his ear, rub his belly, fluff up his nest and cuddle him in it. He misses his alpha so much that it physically hurts him.

“I’ll handle it,” Sieun says, his voice soft and his brain already whirring with ideas. He’s handled everything in his life on his own before this moment. Perhaps this is a little - a lot - more difficult, but he’ll manage, won't be?

His mother scoffs. “You're not even an adult yet,” she points out. Sieun doesn’t let her words dismay him. 

“Is that all?” He asks, unmoved. He stands up when he receives silence as answer and reclaims his ownership of the manila folder.

“I'm going to lay down.”

The talk was just as pointless as he thought it would be. His bones sag with exhaustion that he is only just noticing when he reaches his bedroom, setting the folder on his desk and stripping out of his day clothes. He changes into something more comfortable that hasn't touched outside air. A pair of sweatpants, and a large comfortable T-shirt. In his nest, he curls up, arms over his belly and wrists tucked underneath his chin.

He wants to sleep. Forever, preferably. He wants to close his eyes and when he opens them, his life will be back to how it should be. Suho will be awake, smiling at him and calling his name; his alpha will be here with his arms tuckered around him, smelling of citrus and lemongrass. Sieun will be complete once more, and this gaping empty hole in his chest will be filled. 

The days begin to mold together, each one as similar as the last. He wakes up. He ignores his father, home more often now. His mother visits once every two weeks. He brushes his teeth, washes his face, dresses for the weather, and takes himself to Suho’s hospital room. When he finishes his schoolwork, he sits in silence to stare at his alpha. When visiting hours close, he goes home, showers, sleeps, and does it all over again. Terrifyingly repetitive. He feels as though he is a robot programmed to act the way he does, instead of a human being with free will.

The nurses at the hospital all wear the same expression when they see him now. He hardly speaks to them when he doesn't have to. He does not have the energy to, not anymore. A murmured greeting already feels like too much.

On weekends, with no schoolwork and no Suho, he lays in his nest and becomes one with the blankets. He rots, almost, for that forty-eight hour period, decaying in the grave that smells of his alpha, decomposing in the coffin of his own misery. How is he so miserable, yet so numb ? Is he truly numb if he can feel this desolate; this torn ? 

His second doctor’s appointment creeps up on him. He hasn't forgotten about it. It is the only oddity in his schedule, the only event to break his dreary routine, and on the morning of October 8th, he is officially five months along. 

He hadn't slept much the previous night. His pup had kept him up with her stirring and kicking, making her presence more and more visible by the day with how his belly has begun to show through his clothes, and she seems to adore pounding against his ribs. He winces at a particularly harsh strike as he glances at his bedside clock.

Four in the morning. His appointment is at nine-thirty, which means he has an entire five and half hours before he needs to head out. Yet still, Sieun can not rest due to the kicking, and gives up fairly quickly.

His cravings have worsened in the past few days. They've gotten stronger, and more specific. His cravings for peach popsicles became a craving for the peach ice cream pops from the little corner store a ten minute walk from his house. His mouth waters for one, perhaps two, and he rolls out of his nest, not bothering with his house shoes as he shuffles to the kitchen.

Much to his dismay, there are none when he opens the freezer. He could wait until daylight when his father wakes up and ask him to pick up some more, but Sieun is craving them now, dammit. He sighs, closing the freezer and going to fetch his shoes.

He slips on a hoodie over his nightclothes, and grabs his wallet before he sets out of the apartment. The night is chilly. Fall has barely reared its head and the leaves have yet to fully part from the branches of trees. The wind tickles Sieun’s cheeks as he walks, reaching the convenience store in approximately fifteen minutes.

The bright lights hurt his eyes. He squints them as he enters and immediately heads for the ice cream cooler, sliding it open and digging through the plethora of options until he finds what he’s looking for; peach cream popsicles. It takes several minutes to dig around and find an adequate amount. With an armful of the treats, he takes them to the register, dumping them on the counter as neatly as he can.

Due to his frequent visits, the cashiers have become quite familiar with him. He doesn't recognize this one, a tall beta with dark green dyed hair and a gnarly burn mark over his eye. When he sees Sieun, however, he cocks his head.

“So you're the omega my coworkers told me about,” he says as he begins ringing up the items. Sieun blinks. He wasn't aware the workers spoke about him when he wasn't present. His sleep deprived brain lags as it tries to conjure up an appropriate reply.

“...What?” He settles on juston, just about the only thing he can manage. The boy, looking not much older than himself - why is he working such an outlandish shift? - cracks a grin.

“The day shift employees would always talk about the Cute little omega mother who’d come in every other day and buy all the peach popsicles,” he elaborates. “I work the overnight shift so I guess that's why we’ve never met before. Your total is 14,000 won, by the way.”

Sieun pulls his card from his wallet. “Oh,” he replies, because what is he supposed to say to that? He inserts the card into the reader. The cashier doesn't seem very offended by his lack of words.

“You're all set,” he tells Sieun, handing him his bag. “Have a good night, yeah? Stay safe out there.” 

Sieun nods in reply. He tucks his card back into his wallet and exits the store.

His journey back to his apartment goes without event for the most part. He makes it almost halfway back, passing a man leaning against a brick wall with a lit cigarette. He pays Sieun no mind, and the omega does the same.

Not everyone shares the mindset, apparently. A few feet away, in the open mouth of an alleyway, there is noise. From this distance, Sieun can smell alcohol and cigarette smoke, making his nose twitch. He's never dabbled much into either and especially not since discovering his pregnancy. Still, Sieun braves on, intending to quietly pass the alley — but of course, he can never have things go his way.

“Ya!”

Sieun doesn't look up at the call for attention. His apartment complex is only five minutes away. Three, if he walks briskly. There's a sound like a scoff before footsteps are approaching him, and within moments, he finds himself surrounded.

It would not be the first time that Sieun has been outnumbered. But, those times, Sieun was well rested and very much not pregnant. Unease fills him as he scopes out the circle; five people. Three females, two males. The pheromones in the scents tell him they are mostly or all alphas.

Not a good sign. 

The one in front of him, an alpha with glasses and blond hair, tucks her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “I haven't seen your face before,” she says, eyes darting around his features and raking his body — lingering on the slight swell of his belly through his hoodie. Her tongue licks over her teeth. He isn't wearing scent blockers and he’s sure they can smell the milky undertones of his scent, a telltale sign that he is bearing pups.

“You got an alpha?” She continues, stepping closer. “You clearly do, since you're knocked up. If you were mine, I wouldn't be letting you walk around by yourself this late.”

The funny thing is, if Suho were awake, he’d give Sieun the scolding of a lifetime for being out at such an hour. His face would be all calm and emotionless like he gets when he's genuinely upset. Sieun’s brain gears twist and turn as he attempts to find a way out of this situation that doesn't involve him resorting to violence. He can't afford to be violent, because it isn't just himself who he has to look out for now. 

There is a sudden commotion from behind, a cry of surprise and pain before the clear thud of someone hitting the ground. Instinctively, Sieun turns around, taking his eyes off of the main predator as a larger one has appeared. It is the man from before who had been leaning against the wall. His hood had been up then, but it's down now, and the face he's presented with is… vaguely familiar to him, the strong features and long hair tied up halfway. This alpha smells like tea tree and towers over not just Sieun, but his attackers also.

“Most people know better than to mess with a taken omega,” he says, voice low, rumbling from deep in his throat. Without taking his eyes off of the blond haired leader, he grips Sieun by the elbow, tugging the omega until he is close enough that all he can smell is sharp tea tree. Sieun doesn't like that, the only scent he likes to be bathed in is that of his alpha, but he plays along for the sake of himself. Of his pup. 

The leader scoffs. She puffs her chest out, sizing the strange alpha up. “What, he's yours?” She asks, her scent bristling; burning caramel, sticking to the pan. “He doesn't smell like you.”

Indeed. The hoodie Sieun wears is doused in the aroma of his nest, fresh citrus and clean lemongrass - clearly not the scent of this alpha.

“And?” The alpha is still calm; unaffected. His hand is still gripping Sieun’s elbow. He doesn't like that. He doesn't like any of this. His back hurts, his pup is kicking again, and his ice cream is melting.

It's quiet, for a moment. All the different scents make Sieun feel nauseous. Ultimately, though, the blond haired alpha appears to realize she's no match, and steps back. Surrendering her display of dominance, submitting to the stronger party. Grumbling under her breath, the group departs from the area. Only when they are out of sight does Sieun wrench his elbow from the alpha’s grasp.

“She was right,” the man says, looking down at Sieun with dark, unreadable eyes. He tucks his hands back into his pockets, long hair whipping around his face. “You shouldn't be out this late without your alpha.”

Now, Sieun remembers where he's seen this face. Memories of the junkyard and sand in his eyes come back to him, of the abandoned fairgrounds and the showdown with the gangster. The alpha steps forward when Sieun doesn't reply and Sieun is still tense as ever, but the man doesn't reach for him.

“Lead the way,” he says. “You're headed somewhere, aren't you?”

Some months ago, Sieun would have firmly told him to fuck off. That he is his own person, and he can handle himself. He doesn't even remember this man’s name, if he ever knew it, but he puts some semblance of trust in him, sighing and allowing the alpha to escort him back to his apartment.

He leaves him at the stairwell, telling him to Stay safe, and Sieun treks up the stairs, exhaustion nagging at him. By the time he reaches the top, his back is aching more than ever. He punches in his door code, takes off his shoes in the foyer, and promptly heads to the kitchen to put away his buyings. 

As he thought, the ice cream melted a little bit. Still, he takes one and unwraps it, humming at the sweet flavor that graces his tongue. In the past, he had never had any specific taste for fruits or fruit flavored things. These days, it feels as though he can go more than a few hours without at least one serving of something fruity.

Sieun retreats back to his room. His bedside clock now reads that it is four twenty-eight. He savors his ice cream as he strips off the hoodie - it smells slightly of tea tree - and climbs back into his nest.

He tries not to be awake during the early hours of the morning, when it is still dark and the world is quiet. It gives him too much time to think, to fall back into a whirlpool of memories. Of Suho, mostly. And sometimes, if his brain really wishes to torture him, it will bring back the times they had with Beomseok.

Beomseok’s betrayal… It hurtIt had hurt . Hurt like nothing that Sieun had ever felt before. He hadn’t been angry when Beomseok left him to be beaten and harassed by the alphas he hired , where he had been so fearful they would have done something more, bring their lewd threats to fruition, had the authorities not showed up; he’d been disappointed, yes. Tired.

It was different, when Beomseok hurt Suho. Suho was his world. The light in his life that had previously been swamped in darkness, a breath of air in the ocean he’d been drowning in. Suho showed him that kind, caring people did exist in the world. Suho made him feel as though he had a place beyond his notebooks, as though he was worth something.

And now he’s gone. He’s still here, still alive, but no one can say whether or not he will truly come back to the world of the conscious. His pup is growing in Sieun’s belly, bigger and bigger by the day, yet he most likely won't even be able to open his eyes to see her.

Damn Oh Beomseok. Damn him and all the others responsible.

Sieun finishes his ice cream and disposes of the stick and wrapper in the bedroom trash can. He debates starting his schoolwork early, but decides he does not have the energy to. He curls up into his nest and eventually drifts back off to sleep.

He awakens to the sound of his alarm, the light streaming through his curtains, and a knock at his door. The mix of overwhelming sensations has him overstimulated and uncomfortable for a moment. He first turns off the obnoxious alarm, then draws the curtains before he shuffles out of his nest to open his bedroom door.

It's not his father. It's his mother — Oh. Today was her first biweekly visit of the month. Sieun rubs the crust and sleep from his eyes.

“Good morning,” she greets him, dressed to the nines. “Your appointment is at nine-thirty, correct?”

Leave it to her to hound him when he’s barely opened his eyes yet. Sieun hums in reply. He remembers setting his alarm for seven o’clock, and when he glances back at the digital bedside clock, it is 7:05.

He expects his mother to leave and say she’ll be in the kitchen or living room. Instead, she doesn't. She steps into the bedroom, Sieun stepping back, and he takes notice of the bag she carries.

“Since you're beginning to show a little more, I took it upon myself to get you some maternity clothes,” She says, pausing as she looks for a place to set the bag down. His nest is off limits, everyone knows to never intrude on an omega’s nest, and she settles for the small desk. 

“I wasn't sure what you’d like, so I got a little bit of everything,” His mother continues as she begins taking clothes out from the bag. There are some dresses - some male omegas wore dresses when they were bearing pups, but Sieun would not be one of them - jeans with stretchy black spandex, sweaters, shirts, tights, underwear… None of it looks particularly appealing to Sieun, until she pulls out a set of bras.

“You're starting to show through your clothes,” she tells him. “I don't think you’ll grow too big up top, most male omegas only gain a cup size or at most two, but these should help you feel more comfortable. Have you started lactating yet?”

In the past month, it took some time to become used to not only his mother’s presence, but her questioning. Her and halmeoni alike loved to prod him with inquiries — Have your ankles started swelling? Does your back hurt? Does your face feel puffy? He knows they're only trying to assist him, they both have been in his position before, but the breach of privacy will be difficult to get used to, especially considering he isn't that close with the omega who birthed him in the first place.

“...A little,” Sieun replies, honestly. He’s noticed some leaking of his nipples, just some discharge, and how his chest has begun to swell the tiniest bit. His mother hands him the bras dangling off of the hangers.

“I had to eyeball the size. Tell me if they fit, hm?” With that, her showing of the clothes has concluded. “Go ahead and get dressed. Your father ordered breakfast.”

She leaves, her heels clicking and the door closing behind her. Sieun is still quite groggy, but sorts through the clothes she’d bought. He immediately puts the dresses aside, he won't be touching those, and sets tentative hands on a peach colored sweater. The fabric is soft and stretchy. It's not loose fitting like he’d typically prefer his clothes to be but the fabric is thick and warm, perfect for the chilly weather and his bouts of cold sweats. He takes that, a pair of maternity jeans, and takes them over to his nest.

Sieun strips off the clothes he’d slept in. He, first, configures the bra, taking a moment to figure out how to slide it off the complicated hanger. It doesn't have hooks, or clasps. He simply has to pull it over his head and he does just that, slightly surprised that it fits his chest almost perfectly. He chooses not to dwell on that and slides on the jeans and sweater.

Indeed, the sweater is not as loose as his other clothing. You tell from a distance now that he is expecting, and he doesn't know how to feel about that. He grabs a jacket, Suho’s windbreaker - despite the fact that it doesn't match any part of his outfit - and heads out of his room to the kitchen.

There, it smells of food that makes his stomach growl with hunger. His mother isn't sitting, but standing at the counter. There are some things stacked there that Sieun doesn't particularly care about at this moment. He's hungry. His whole life, he’s never been a particularly big eater - Suho used to complain about it - but in the past few months, he seems to be munching on something every hour.

At the sight of him, his mother scrunches her nose. “Will you ever go anywhere without that hideous jacket?” She asks, distaste in her tone. Sieun frowns immediately. 

“It's my alpha’s,” he tells her, upset that she described Suho’s jacket in such a way. She purses her lips at the mention of Suho.

“He doesn't have more fashionable jackets?” She questions as Sieun sips at a spoonful of warm, rich broth. Indeed, Suho does have more than one jacket. He has a few hoodies, a few zip ups, but Sieun doesn't want those. They don't smell of Suho like this one does.

“Don't want those.”

His mother sighs, but drops the topic. Whenever her words got too snippy, her father would give her that look. She watches him eat in silence for a bit, his father standing to get a drink from the refrigerator, his chair scraping back the loudest noise in the room.

“...I got you some more things,” she speaks up at last, gesturing to the items on the counter. “A baby name book, a breast pump… We’ll have to start shopping for the pup soon. Since pups don't need much space in their first few months, a bassinet can fit in your room for now, since that's all the pup will really need. Afterwards, though…”

Her red painted lips purse again. Sieun is barely dressed but here she is, wearing business slacks and short heels and a dress shirt tucked into her beltline, her makeup simple and professional. She looks so put together. 

The refrigerator door shuts and his father returns to the table. “No need. I found another apartment,” he says, pouring orange juice into his glass. He offers it to Sieun and the omega shakes his head. “The rent is nice, and it's a three bedroom. The landlord said we can tour it next week.”

Woah. Sieun hadn't heard anything of this new development. A frown marrs his face.

“How far is it from the hospital?” He questions, and his father pauses. He clearly hasn't considered that.

“...I don't know. But it shouldn't be any farther than we are now,” he assures Sieun. “It might even be closer, since the apartment is more in the city than this one.”

That's all Sieun needed to hear. He doesn't think he could bear it if he wasn't able to see his alpha every day. He finishes his food, and after he settles his dishes into the sink he takes the book of baby names from the counter. He hadn't begun thinking of a name for his pup just yet. He settles down with the book on the couch, flipping it open.

His parents move around as he flips through it. They bicker, some, but no real, in depth arguments delve out as Sieun scans page after page. At some point, he takes a spare notebook from his room to jot down some names that stick out to him, as well as their meanings. It is when he gets the S section, however, that he pauses.

Suha. 

His heart aches at the similarity to his alpha’s name. Suddenly, all the other names don't matter to him. He knows, without a doubt, that this will be the name of their daughter. He's sure of it. He closes the book, staring down at the pup on the front of it. From the pink little dress and pink hairband, he’d assume the pup is a girl. Will his little girl look like this? Chubby cheeks and tubby arms, a gummy smile and a head of dark hair. All babies look relatively similar when they're born, and in the first few months. When she develops her own facial features, who will she favor? Sieun, round eyes and cheeks? Suho, sharp corners and slanted fox eyes? Some forgotten grandparents or distant ancestors?

Sieun checks the time on his phone. It is eight-thirty, an hour before he and his mother head out. After a moment, he decides to call halmeoni. She’ll be awake at this time, won't she?

The phone rings, and rings. He sits with his legs crossed up under him on the couch, absently tugging the sweater away where it sticks to his belly when the line finally connects.

“ Good morning, puppy, ” she greets him, the sound of that old trot song she likes playing softly in the background. “ Did you just wake up? ”

Sieun strokes the front of the book with a single finger. “No,” he replies. “I’ve been awake for an hour. Just had breakfast.”

“ Mm, is that so? ” She replies. “ I've just been up, watching the sunrise, doing my knitting. You have that appointment today, don't you? With your Mama. ”

Halmeoni and his parents have yet to formally meet. He doesn't know if he particularly wants those two worlds to collide, either.

“Yes. We leave in an hour.” He hesitates, glancing down at his swollen belly. “...And I found a name for my pup. Suha. ”

Halmeoni makes a noise. “ A junior, is she?” She says, humming. “ My boy, Suho… you know what his name means, puppy?”

No. He doesn't.

“ Guardian. It means guardian. His Eomma chose it because she wanted him to always be protected,” she laughs as she reveals this information. “ Funny, isn't it? ”

It is. In a bitter, depressing way. Sieun swallows.

“Yeah. It is.”

“ I'll get off the phone now, can’t knit well when I'm distracted. You take care of yourself, alright, puppy? ”

He promises her that he will, and hangs up. He can hear his parents talking about something in the kitchen. He should tell them about Suha, that she has a name now, but he doesn't want to get up. 

He takes the quilt draped over the back of the couch and curls up underneath it. He does not remember falling asleep, and wakes up to being shaken gently.

“Oh, good. You're awake.” The click of his mother's heels. “Come put your shoes on, we have to leave.”

He rises groggily, rubbing his nap from his eyes. When he thinks to grab his phone, the time is 9:05. He heads to the foyer, slipping his sneakers on, though at this stage, it is beginning to steadily get harder and harder to bend down and tie them. Still, he manages, and descends down the stairs into the backseat of his mother’s car.

When he looks at his phone again, he sees that he has several missed calls and several new text messages, all from the same unfamiliar number. He cocks his head. The only people who know his number are his parents, Suho, halmeoni… And Youngyi. He opens the messages and looks them over.

yah!! 

YEON SIEUN!!

SIEUN!! 

fucking answer me [angry emoji]

u never told me that u and suho were having pups!! 

He has not spoken to Youngyi since the one time she visited Suho after he went under. He was only slightly hurt by her abrupt departure, but could not find it in himself to be entirely upset with her — not only because he has been hurt worse, but because he understands. He would distance himself too, if he could. If it wouldn't kill him.

He debates if he should text back or not. In the end, he decides he will.

I only found out a month ago, he replies. Who told you?

Typing bubbles bounce on the screen.

seokdae said he saw u the other day n asked me if i knew :/

Seokdae? The name is not familiar, but the only person outside of Suho’s halmeoni, his alpha, and his parents he has interacted with has been the man from the junkyard. Oh. He had almost forgotten that Youngyi had relations with that alpha. 

how far along r u? She asks next. When Sieun responds that he’s five months along, she sends a GIF of an orange cat with a shocked expression.

?? YOU’VE HAD A BABY INSIDE YOU SINCE SPRING ???

Indeed, it had also blown Sieun’s mind that, throughout almost the whole year, with all the violence and stress he’d gone through, this little pup had been quietly growing in his belly, her presence not even suspected. He himself truly thinks it's a miracle nothing had happened to her in all of the fights he got into. 

dude that's fucking insane wth, she messages next. i literally never would've guessed.

Their conversation persists for the rest of the drive. Youngyi asks the typical questions; the baby’s gender, if he has any names planned yet. Thankfully, she never does bring up Suho, the fact that he will not be able to meet his pup when she’s born. When they reach the clinic, he tells her he will talk to her later, and she messages back that she will come be waiting at halmeoni’s house for him. Sieun gives the message a thumbs up reaction just as his father opens his car door.

For whatever reason, his mother’s choice of car is a quite large SUV. If Sieun weren’t pregnant, he’d hop out with no trouble, maybe have the wind knocked out of him at the very least. Alas, he frowns down at the ground that looks so far away, about to very carefully slide himself down when his father intervenes. The beta wordlessly, effortlessly picks him under the armpits, safely and securely depositing him onto the asphalt of the parking lot, and Sieun blinks. The man doesn't say anything, just ruffles his hair and nudges him towards the entrance of the clinic, but Sieun’s brain is stuck in the interaction.

He hasn't so much as hugged either of his parents since he was young, less than eight years old. The last time he can recall his father picking him up, he was six; he remembers his mother scolding him, saying Sieun was too old to be carried, and to this day, his father’s response sometimes keeps him up at night with sorrow.

So what? He’d said, holding a primary school aged Sieun on his hip. He's my boy. I'll pick him up for as long as he can fit in my arms. 

His father’s hand is on his shoulder, tenderly massaging him there, and if Sieun weren't pregnant, he is so sure his chest would not hurt like it did at the action. Is it childish of him, immature, to crave his father’s embrace again? He has spent all these years doing just fine without attention from either of his parents. Why did that simple action in the parking lot bring out all these new emotions?

They settle into the waiting room after signing in at the reception. They are around fifteen minutes early, so Sieun knows his name will not be called for a while. The waiting room chairs are hard, uncomfortable, and make his back hurt, as well as being far too close together. Combined with that, his three hours of sleep are starting to catch up with him. The back of the chair is uncomfortable to lean on, but his father’s shoulder is right there. 

Sieun hesitates, but ultimately, his drowsiness wins over, and his head lolls onto his father’s shoulder. The beta bristles only for a moment. After half a second, an arm wraps around him, a hand cupping the side of his head.

“You can sleep,” his father tells him. As a beta, he does not have a scent, but the aroma of his hygiene products is comforting anyhow. “I'll wake you up when they call your name.”

He has not been this close to his father in years. It should feel odd. He should reject this affection, but he doesn't. He closes his eyes and lets himself doze off.

True to his word, his father does gently shake him awake when his name is called. His mother fixes his mussed up hair as Sieun rubs his eyes. The doctor is the same as last time, his blond hair a little longer now.

“Good morning, Sieun-ssi,” Nurse Yoojung greets him. “How have you been since our last appointment, hm?”

He leads them all back to an examination room, Sieun climbing up onto the cot.

“Good,” he replies. Nurse Yoojung hums.

“Has the pup been kicking any?”

Sieun nods slowly. “She kept me up with it last night,” he replies.

“Oh, that's unfortunate — but at least she’s making her presence known, huh?” The beta jokes. “Go ahead and lay back and pull your sweater up for me, sweetheart. Like before, this is gonna feel real cold, alright?”

Again, Sieun nods. He pulls the hem of his sweater over his swollen belly, eyes glued to the ultrasound screen as the gel is spread and the wand is waved over him. 

“And there she is!” Yoojung sings out. “Here's her heartbeat, nice and strong — she’s about the size of a bell pepper, now. With how she’s growing now, it looks like you’re due in December. When you’re a little further along, we’ll be able to narrow it down to a day.”

December. 

It was December, three years ago in middle school, when he met his alpha — Suho helped him up from the snow when the bullies pushed him down. It was December, two years ago, when fifteen year old Sieun Sieun presented, and Christmas Day when fifteen year old Suho nervously asked if he could be his. 

It was December last year when they met Oh Beomseok. So many things have happened in December. Sieun is truly beginning to wonder if this month means something.

The appointment is just as short as the first one, no longer than twenty minutes. Nurse Yoojung tells them his visits will be moved up to twice a month as he gets closer to his due date. They leave, Sieun climbing up into the backseat and buckling himself in.

“Can you take me to Suho’s halmeoni’s house?” Sieun asks quietly. “My friend wants to see me.”

At that, both his parents give him a quizzical look. His mother, pulling out of the parking lot, gives him a questioning glance in the mirror, and his father in the passenger seat turns around with furrowed brows.

“Friend?” He parrots. “Who are they? What's their name?”

They have reason to be surprised. Sieun has not mentioned any friends before.

“Her name is Youngyi,” He tells them, zipping Suho’s windbreaker up over his belly. “She's an omega like me.”

His mother purses her lips. “I wanted to take you shopping for the pup today,” she says. “You won't be long, will you?”

Sieun shakes his head. His mother hums, and his father makes a non-committal noise. He gives his mother the address, and the drive is quiet. He texts Youngyi that he is on his way and she replies with a GIF of a cat clapping and jumping for joy. 

When they reach the neighborhood, he directs his mother to the blue eggshell house. She pulls up in the driveway, behind halmeoni’s car. His father comes out of the passenger seat to open his door for him and, once again, lifts him down onto the ground. 

Surprisingly, his mother comes out of the car as well. She looks slightly out of place with her designer bag and heels, not to mention her business attire. Her face is curt.

“It's overdue for me to meet this woman,” She says. Sieun doesn't particularly like her tone, but she's correct. She does have an obligation to meet the grandparent of her son’s pup. 

Sieun’s father pats him on the shoulder. He’s already met halmeoni, just once, but it was enough. Sieun leads the way up to the door, his mother’s heels clicking behind him, and knocks on the screen door. It is open and beyond the tinted glass he can see the foyer and faintly hear the television. There are footsteps before a silhouette appears to open it up.

It is not Youngyi, or halmeoni. They aren't tall or broad and they also don't smell like tea tree. Sieun blinks at the sight of Seokdae, but he isn't that surprised. He steps into the foyer, not wanting to look back and see what his mother thinks of the alpha. 

He can hear Youngyi’s voice in the kitchen as he takes off his shoes and slips his feet into house slippers, and when he comes around the corner, the other Omega practically breaks the sound barrier with how loud she squeals.

Sieun has not been hugged since Suho was put to sleep. He does not know how to react to the embrace Youngyi crushes him in. She smells good, like strawberries, exactly how he remembered her scent being. 

“ Sieunie !” She practically shrieks, way too excited. “Sieunie, oh my God, I thought oppa was lying, but you're actually — Wah. I can't believe this. I’m gonna be an auntie and I'm only just finding out.”

Okay. So they're not going to talk about her disappearing for three months. Sieun’s okay with that.

Youngyi looks like she's about to say something else before she suddenly notices Sieun did not come in alone. He can see the surprise on her face, her hands on his shoulders as she looks at Sieun, then at his mother, then Sieun again.

“Oh. You're Sieun’s Eomma, aren't you?” She says, putting the pieces together. He did get told he favored after her rather often. 

Her heels click. She hasn't taken them off. “I am,” she confirms, voice revealing nothing to an outsider, but Sieun can hear her distaste at the faded wallpaper and scratched up counters. He suddenly regrets ever letting her come in with him in the first place. Halmeoni’s house is his safe space. She doesn't belong in it, since she can't even have the decency to possess the slightest hint of respect for it and at least take off her shoes.

“I only came in to meet the woman my son speaks so highly of,” she continues.  “Is she home?”

Youngyi glances back at Sieun and he can see the question in her eyes. He only subtly shakes his head and she presses her lips together. 

“Halmeoni’s in the backroom,” Youngyi tells her. “Which, speaking of… I got some things for you, Sieunie. But I’ll get halmeoni first — halmeoni !”

He winces at Youngyi’s volume as he takes a seat on a kitchen chair. He can hear the shuffling of halmeoni's footsteps as she comes down the hall and through the living room. She looks surprised to see Sieun’s mom, but not for long as she puts on a smile.

“ Aigoo. You're Sieun’s Eomma, are you?” She says, immediately putting the pieces together. “I can see where he got that pretty face from.”

His mother smiles. It isn't fake but it isn't all that innocent either but Sieun says nothing, watching her carefully as she shakes halmeoni’s weathered hand.

“I've been told that once or twice,” his mother replies, charming as ever. “It's been long overdue for us to meet. Sieun speaks so highly of you, so I just had to come see you in person.”

Sieun rarely talks about halmeoni to his parents, actually, though she is very precious to him. While they make small talk, Seokdae rounds the second entrance to the kitchen, though not empty handed — he’s returned from the back part of the foyer where a rarely used dining table resides, with what is clearly a gift basket. He looks somewhat silly, big and broad as he is, dressed in monochrome black with a stoic face while he sets the cutesy pink basket on the table. It's not small by any means - even though compared to Seokdae, anything could be miniscule - and Sieun is surprised at how much Youngyi was able to prepare in less than two days' time. 

“I was kind of scrambling to get things, since oppa only told me, like, yesterday, but —” Youngyi bounces on her heels. If Sieun didn't know any better, he’d think she was the one receiving gifts. 

“— I think I did pretty good. Come on! Open it.” As Youngyi speaks, Sieun’s mother tilts her head, watching the interaction curiously.

Sieun has not received many heart-felt gifts in his lifetime. But, the ones he has received have always been from Youngyi and Suho. Youngyi especially seemed to have a knack for gift giving, always going out of her way to make things big. 

Sieun untwists the bow keeping the cellophane in place, and the first thing at the top of the pile is pampers.

“Naver said babies shi— poop a lot, and even though you're not having it now I thought it would still be a good gift,” Youngyi says, as Sieun nods and sets those aside. 

Below those are similar baby care products. Wipes, bottles and nipples, a pack of cute bedazzled pacifiers. This had to be expensive, right? Not to mention the basket is seemingly bottomless.

There are cute newborn clothes with cheesy motifs, all hot and baby pink. Tiny little socks and one pair of frilly little shoes — “ Pups don't need shoes,” Sieun says, and Youngyi scoffs, halmeoni chuckling. He even sees his mother’s lips twitch.

“It's the principle, Sieun-ah.”

As he gets to the bottom of the basket, there are small plushies, a thick white envelope, and a store bought card. He picks the card up, first, tilting his head as he opens it. A little card sleeve falls out into the basket, but he reads the writing first.

I don't know what to write here. Thank you for being so sweet and pretty and cute? I guess? What do people write in these cards?

“A congratulations would’ve also worked,” Sieun tells Youngyi. The other omega huffs, but doesn't reply, and Sieun picks up the card sleeve.

It’s a gift card, as expected. The card is twenty-five thousand won, and it's to a coffee shop that Sieun used to like not for the drinks, but for the pastries. He tucks that aside, then picks up the envelope. 

He carefully unsticks the seal, and peels it back. He does not know what he expects to be in the envelope. Perhaps not photos of his alpha.

Suho freezes at the sight of Suho’s face. He feels like it's been so long, that he's gotten used to the pale, gaunt ghost in the hospital bed. How could he have forgotten how bright Suho had been? This photo has, clearly, been taken from one of Suho’s gym visits — he isn't looking at the camera, hands wrapped in bandages and poised before a punching bag, biceps bulging in his sleeveless top.

“You never mentioned he was a fighter,” his mother says, directly behind him, and Sieun spooks at her proximity. How had she moved so quietly? Or was he just that absorbed with Suho's photo?

Sieun doesn't answer. He flicks through the photos, finding some of the same nature — Suho in the gym, sweaty and gorgeous, but then, there are some softer ones. Ones of them. He and Suho at the annual Spring fair, where Youngyi and Beomseok had indeed tagged along. He can see the elbow of Beomseok’s blue cardigan and he knows Youngyi is behind the camera yet the way the photo is taken, it seems as though he and his alpha are the only two people in the world. They’re standing in front of a concession stand, Sieun wrapped around Suho’s arm, leaning against his side as Suho is pointing at the menu mid-speech about what he wanted to order. ( What do you mean you've never had a corn dog? Yah, you can't be serious, Sieun! )

The photos continue that way. Them at the coffee shop, at the duck pond, last Christmas with their matching pajamas. Youngyi was there for all of these moments, but he never remembers seeing her take these photos. 

“Well?” Said omega interrupts, making Sieun snap out of his daze. “What do you think of them, Sieunie? I was thinking about getting these developed for a while, but — wait, wait, yah, why are you crying?”

Sieun sniffs. “I'm not crying,” he denies, even as he wipes at the wetness in his eyes with his sleeve, his nose and water ducts burning. This is embarrassing. He has never cried often in his life, especially not in front of this many people, one of them being his mother.

“Yes, you are,” Youngyi calls him out, shuffling out of her chair to come over and embrace him. In their whole time of being friends, he can not recall a time he ever let himself be hugged by her. He does now, sniffing pathetically as he can't seem to stop the tears from coming. He swears on everything he has, if he weren't pregnant, he would not be crying like this.

“ Aigoo. I remember how emotional I was back when I was having pups,” halmeoni comments as Sieun hides his face in Youngyi’s chest, embarrassed. She smells like a strawberry pound cake and he focuses on that in an effort to make his tears stop as Youngyi pats the back of his head.

“You're not the only one,” his mother muses, reminding Sieun she is indeed still behind him. “My ex-husband almost got his head taken off during my third trimester.”

Their words only serve to make his chest hurt as he is reminded that his alpha is not here with him. If he was here, he would surely tease Sieun about his crying, maybe even kiss the tears from his cheeks, smothering him in kisses like he always does. If he was here, Sieun wouldn't be crying in the first place. He is as grateful for the photos as he is devastated over them — they are monuments of the past, showcasing the times they had, and also how much Suho has withered away in the hospital bed.

Sieun stops crying, eventually. Youngyi insists on wiping his face with a damp cloth while he tries to bat her away but eventually lets it happen. He missed her. He won't lie. Her snark and her sass and her touches — when was the last time Sieun was touched by someone who wasn't his alpha? 

“How are you cute even when you cry?” Youngyi complains. “That's not fair. I knew God had favorites.”

With a tight hug from Youngyi, the basket of gifts, and kisses on both cheeks from halmeoni, Sieun is set to leave. In the foyer, he sets the basket down, intending to get his shoes on, but he is five months pregnant and most certainly feeling it. First the car, now this. He knows his mobility will only steadily decrease the larger Suha gets.

Sieun bristles at the scent of tea tree. Truly, he had almost forgotten about Seokdae’s presence. The alpha was just so quiet and despite his size, he had managed to successfully blend into the background. He crouches down in front of Sieun, wordlessly handling the omega and putting his shoes on for him. He even goes as far as neatly lacing them up, using the butterfly method that despite his best attempts, Sieun still struggled with.

He doesn't say a single word throughout the ordeal, or even when he's done. Sieun feels obligated to thank him.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, picking the basket up once again. The alpha only nods in reply, opening the door for Sieun, and the omega ventures into the outside.

He opens the door to the backseat, pressing the gift basket in before he hoists himself up. His father peers back at him, curious.

“How did it go?” He asks. “Your mother wasn't too much, was she?”

Sieun shakes his head. “No,” he denies. “ Youngyi got me some things for the pup. And myself. But mostly the pup.”

He takes the photos out again, shuffling through them. He had thought he and Suho weren't as affectionate as stereotypical couples tended to be, but these pictures tell him otherwise. Has Suho always looked at him that way, his eyes tender and soft? Has Sieun always looked at Suho that way, with a gaze full of stars, like his alpha is greater than the universe itself?

His mother returns to the car. Sieun presses the photos back into the envelope, his chest filled with something bittersweet. 

“She was nice,” his mother says. “If her grandson is anything like her, I'm sure I would've liked him, too. From those photos, it seems you two were closer than I could've thought.”

She peers back at him in the rearview mirror. “Me and your father never looked at each other that way, not even as highschool sweethearts.” The mentioned beta winces. “Why did you never introduce him to us?”

At that, Sieun can't help the way he scoffs under his breath. “When did you ever give me an opportunity to?” He says back, voice empty; numb. His father looks away guiltily while his mother purses her lips.

The conversation ends there. Sieun’s mind lingers on her use of past tense words referring to Suho as she starts the car and reverses out of the drive. He isn't dead. He's still here. He can't speak, or breathe, or eat, or even use the bathroom, but he's here and he's alive. 

Why is she speaking of him like he's dead?

Why is she speaking of him like she’ll never get to speak to him?

Before Sieun can stress himself out, he chooses to stop thinking so much. His hand instinctively comes to rest over his belly. He's swelled so much that not even his alpha’s jacket can hide it anymore. Most people, if they aren't visually impaired and slash or legally blind, could tell within a few glances that he is with child. He feels oddly exposed, even though this isn't a secret he's keeping from anyone. Everyone who needs to know is aware.

Except for Suho, of course. But what can he do about that?

“I've had my eyes on a few department stores with good infant selections,” his mother speaks as she drives. “Have you thought about colors for the nursery yet? If you haven't, I was thinking maybe a soft lilac, or a pale yellow.”

Sieun blinks, pausing to think before he replies. “I haven't,” he admits. “But…”

( I like it when you wear blue.

Sieun gives the alpha - his alpha - an inquisitive glance. Without the omega even having said a word, Suho shrugs.

Blue is my favorite color. And you're my favorite person. )

“...I think I want it to be blue.”

Shopping for the nursery takes a month.

It would have taken less, if it were only Sieun on his own involved. But with a fashionista like Youngyi and a perfectionist such as his mother, he should’ve known that wouldn't be the case. Sieun was alright with keeping it simple. The pup would be sleeping in a bassinet by his bedside for the first month or three, anyways, so what was the big deal? A crib, an arm chair in the corner, and a dresser. Pups cannot see well in their first few months, and even if they could, why would they care about how extravagant their living space is?

Sieun, ultimately, decides to let those two take it over completely. His only request is that it be themed blue. Youngyi pitches the idea of rabbit decorations, and Sieun tells her to have at it. 

Five months, turn to six. He begins to ache more than ever and receives the gift of an oddly shaped body pillow from his father that becomes his best-friend along with his nest. On his worst days, when he lays against it and closes his eyes, it almost - almost - feels like Suho.

He breaks the routine of not visiting his alpha on weekends. His body yearns and aches in a way that only soothes when he is in proximity with Suho. Very few hospital staff knew he was with child, but he can tell that more have begun to take notice, and thus, their eyes shine with even more pity.

Poor boy, They say, when they think he cannot hear. I wonder what his story is?

The doctors say that they think Suho can hear now. They think. They still have no sure determination that he’ll wake up, but that's enough for Sieun and his halmeoni — she comes with her knitting supplies and tells them both stories about Suho’s childhood. One day, she shows him a photo album of a chubby, round cheeked Suho with red cheeks and childish innocence. It makes Sieun wonder who their pup will take after the most. 

Symptoms that accompany incubating a child in his stomach persist. Two weeks after he hits the six months mark, he officially starts lactating, and is forced to put the breast pump to use.

“I was worried you wouldn't produce that much milk,” his mother comments watching him dump the fourth full bottle of the day down the sink. “But that gene skipped you, it seems.”

The lactation isn't the only new development. He finds that he’s gained about twenty pounds, which is a very nice development according to his doctor. She says that the risk-factor has now lowered significantly.

(In elementary, gym teachers preferred he sit out so as to not be responsible for him being bulldozed by other kids.)

Stretch marks appear on his belly and around his hips. His back and legs ache like never before. His gums bleed when he brushes his teeth, he has to rush to the bathroom every hour, and several times while studying, he has to pause to wait out the sudden numbness and tingling in his hands due to a sudden development of carpal tunnel syndrome. Sieun wonders why, if the omegean body is so-called designed to bear pups, why the process has so many detrimental side effects.

Three weeks into his sixth month, he and his father officially make the move into their new apartment. They had put it off for a while, since Sieun wanted to spend just a little more time in his nest before he had to disassemble it, and the nursery was nearly fully furnished when he entered the living space for the first time. It's white and blue with rabbit ears on any furniture to be seen, and a spinning mobile attached to the ceiling above the crib. 

Sieun spent a full hour curled up in the big arm chair in the corner staring down at the ultrasound photos. Third trimester fatigue caught up to him, and he fell asleep in that position.

He awakened to the sensation of being lifted. The soft, neutral scent tells him it is his father, and Sieun is too tired to question or protest anything. He’s settled into his nest and he promptly faded back into his sleep.

His father is… better. He has breakfast with Sieun every morning and they talk more often. He’s started displaying small little methods of affection, to — ruffling Sieun’s hair, patting his shoulder, and once again, helping him down from the car. Sieun did not realize how much he missed his father until now. This new development is weird, but welcome.

Of course, it can't last forever. His father receives an urgent request for a business trip, one that he can't sick-day his way out of. In the past, he never seemed bothered leaving his teenage son home alone to travel for weeks at a time.

Now, he seems guilty. Reluctant.

“I'm sorry,” he apologizes, and it's genuine. “I tried to tell my supervisor to get someone else, but the team needs me , apparently.”

Sieun doesn't take it personally. He understands. He does. His father has already taken weeks, months of time off solely to be with him. Two weeks of him being gone won't hurt.

“It's fine,” Sieun assures him, because it is. Things happen. Life strikes. 

Still, his father seems to think otherwise. On the day he is set to leave, Sieun is there to bid him goodbye.

“I'll call you sometimes, yeah?” The beta tells him, his bags by the door. Sieun nods, and when his father ruffles his hair, he expects that to be the end of it.

He does not, however, expect arms around him pulling him into a hug. He freezes up. He hasn't hugged either of his parents in years and he has since forgotten what it felt like to be inside of his father’s arms. 

“Love you, kid.”

Sieun doesn't say it back because the words are spinning around in his head. His chest is warm and fuzzy and he feels like he’s made of jelly as his father goes out the door, leaving him with a ruffle of his hair and a kiss on his forehead.

Youngyi comes over an hour after his father leaves. Sieun has made something like a nest on the couch in the living room, brought some blankets and his body pillow as she lets herself in.

“ Aw, ” she coos immediately when she sees him. “You look all fluffy and cute. Ahhh. ”

Sieun almost - almost - purrs as she pats and tugs his cheeks. He can smell the tea tree behind her strawberry, indicating she has brought Seokdae along with her. He remains melted into the couch, making room for Youngyi.

She pets his hair and he lets her. She isn't Suho, but she’s still someone that he loves; someone that he trusts .

“...I'm sorry about leaving,” Youngyi says suddenly, over the volume of the outro from her most recent romance drama. Sieun blinks, so comfortable and fuzzy brained that it takes him some time to comprehend her words.

“It's okay,” he murmurs back, preening from her nails against his scalp, and she sighs.

“You always say things like that,” she replies softly. “It wasn't. I left because I felt guilty, and it kind of seemed like the best option at the time, but it was still a fucked up thing to do.”

It was. It really was. But, Sieun is tired. He doesn't have the energy to be mad at Youngyi, and even if he did, he still wouldn't be.

“It's in the past now,” Sieun replies quietly. “You're here now, and that's all that matters.”

He can see Youngyi purse her lips, but she knows better than to argue with him. Sieun has never liked to argue, and his dislike of conflict increases the closer he gets to his due date.

She leaves it at that. Sieun sinks into the couch and closes his eyes.

For the two weeks that his father is gone, Sieun falls into a routine. This routine does not involve leaving the apartment, outside of when he needs to — he visits his alpha every weekday, attends his now weekly prenatal appointments. In between that, he does his schoolwork and rests.

Youngyi and Seokdae keep him company. They come over everyday, helping him with chores and such. Sieun tries to protest that they don't have to help him. It's harder to move and he aches more often than not, but he's able. He can do most things on his own, and if not… He’ll manage.

When he quietly expressed this to Youngyi, she outright scoffs at him — “Oppa, do you hear him?” She says to Seokdae - mopping the kitchen floor - and shakes her head where she and Sieun are sorting through clean laundry on the couch.

“Be quiet, Sieun. We're helping you.”

Seokdae’s presence takes less time than Sieun would have thought to become accustomed to. He does all of the cooking. Surprisingly, he has a very experienced hand in the kitchen, able to make the best of meals even on the days where Sieun can't keep anything down due to nausea. He doesn't know how this is the same man who tossed him around in a junkyard — putting a blanket over him when he fell asleep on the couch, restocking his favorite cravings without even being asked to, always tying his shoes for him because such a simple action was only a dream when you’re seven months along.

Sieun feels cared for, and not for the first time in his life.

Suho was the first one who showed him he had a worth beyond his grades and studies. Suho was the one who held him and told him it was okay to cry. Suho was the one who made him feel human when everyone else treated him as an emotionless machine.

Suho, Suho, Suho.

His alpha. His mate. The father of his pup. 

He’s done so much for Sieun, and yet, the omega cannot even tell him. He could, but Suho wouldn't reply. 

His father returns just two days shy of when he said he would. Sieun is sulking on the couch, looking like a cute bundle of depression, as Youngyi had said (A joke to lighten his mood). He doesn’t know how he feels about his emotions being so visible that others have taken notice of them. He knows his scent gives it away some, rotten peaches and spoiled honey.

The omega bristles at the hand that ruffles his hair, lifting his head to see his father as the beta passes by the arm of the couch. 

“Hey, kid,” he greets him, dragging his rolling suitcase. “What are you up for, huh? Little one keeping you awake?”

It's four in the morning. Seokdae and Youngyi left the night before, and Sieun tried to rest, but he found that he was too sad. How could he be too sad to sleep ?

Sieun shakes his head. “Just thinking,” he mumbles, blinking slowly at the show he and Youngyi have watched before. He doesn't particularly care for it, just has it on the TV to stimulate his eyes and ears. 

Really, he expects his father to walk past him and move along. His parents have never cared to ask how he was feeling before. Or, more like, they never took the time to notice. He hears his father’s footsteps slowly round the couch until the man is on the opposing side, only occupied by Sieun’s fuzzy socked feet. (His hands and feet were constantly cold these days, and he still feels chilly even with a blanket.)

“Can I sit?” The man asks. Sieun is confused, but he nods, drawing his legs closer to himself to make room. 

“I know…” His father starts. “...I know we haven’t been the parents we should have, me and your Mom. She won’t admit it, but I will.”

He looks down at his lap, clenching his hands. “This conversation has been long overdue, but I never realized we even needed to have it until this whole thing. With you about to have your own pup, and all, I'm always thinking about when you were little — how you were so small, I could pick you up and not have anyone say anything. How you’d always wear my clothes and tell me about your day. It made me realize; When was the last time I sat down and had a full conversation with my own son?”

Sieun listens quietly, watching his father smile bitterly. 

“I can't name your favorite color, or your favorite food, or what you like to do on weekends. I can’t even remember the last time I saw you smile, or laugh. And the things you've said — about me and your mother not being ready to become parents. About you…”

The beta sucks in a sharp breath, like the words he's about to say are knives ready to stab him.

“About you ruining our lives,” he finishes. “I was surprised to hear them, and after thinking about them, I was ashamed. You're my son. You shouldn't… you shouldn't think something like that about yourself. I know I don't say this often, if ever, but… I’m proud of you, Sieun.”

The television plays quietly in the background, filling the silence between his father’s words.

“Not just because of your grades, or all the awards. Those don't matter. I'm proud of those, but most importantly, I’m proud of you. You didn't ruin my life. You’re the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I was too wrapped up with work, with divorcing your mother, to cherish you the way I should’ve. There’s no way I can make up for the years of time we’ve lost, but… I’m sorry.”

Sieun’s heart is beating fast. His eyes burn, even though last time he checked, they were free of any debris or eyelashes. He swallows as he pulls himself to sit up, blinking rapidly to dull the burning sensation down. 

“It’s a late apology, yeah, but… I mean that, Sieun. I'm sorry.” The man is still staring down at his hands and he, too, is blinking more than usual. “I thought we should sit down and talk like this, because… I just… I don't want to become a grandfather while still on bad terms with my own son. I don't want to just be the man who raised you, who you’re forced to love just because. I want…”

The beta inhales.

“I want to be a father. Your father.”

It’s a lot of words to process. Sieun half thinks that he’s dreaming, but the burning at his waterline is far too real, and the liquid dripping down his cheeks is, too. He wipes at his tears, sniffing quietly.

“I…”

His voice is uncharacteristically shaky. The tears keep coming and his throat closes up and he’s a mess, that’s what he is. His chest feels like it's going to burst and splatter the room with gore and he can’t stop crying. No matter how many tears that he wipes, more come down to take their place. 

His father looks as though he’s been shot through the chest, stricken and pained. 

“Come here,” he says softly, opening his arms, and Sieun hesitates.

The last time he ever dreamed of being in his father’s embrace, he was six years old. He had gotten his favorite blanket and his stuffed animal and crept to his parents room in the middle of the night, only to pause outside the door as he heard them arguing, arguing over him. He had crept back to his bedroom and cried so much that he wasn't even able to sleep. 

It feels like a gift to his young self. A reparation, as he leans into his father’s embrace, and oh.

What is this feeling? 

This pain inside him, breaking open and spreading throughout. This force that draws the gasping breaths from his mouth, the pathetic sobs that he chokes on. 

It’s because he’s pregnant. His hormones have shifted, he’s bound to be more emotional. If he didn't have a human life forming inside of his belly, he would not even so much as tear up from those words.

Why would he, when he has felt subhuman for the past ten years and then some? How could he be crying from emotions that he’s never allowed himself to feel?

Even when Sieun’s tears eventually cease, his father doesn’t let go. He rubs his back soothingly, fingers swiping at the remaining salt water staining Sieun’s cheeks.

“I missed holding you like this,” the beta admits quietly. “I could never sit alone when you were little. You remember that big armchair from our old house?”

Sieun nods slowly, sniffing, because he does indeed have the faint, distant memories of snuggling up to his father in the big, overstuffed armchair in their old family home. 

“You’d always come and talk to me about anything on your mind, no matter how small it was — We’re not as close as we were back then, but I hope you can start coming to me when you’re feeling down like this. I wasn't there when you were going through things, and I want to help you with the aftermath.”

The omega blinks sluggishly. His body is limp and boneless now that he's finally being held the way he so clearly needed to be. Sieun lets himself be comforted. Suha twists and turns in his belly, making her presence known as Sieun’s eyelids flutter. 

Come morning, when Sieun wakes tucked comfortably into his bed, it takes him a second to remember the night before, and he doesn't know what he expects. Some part of him is weary the apartment will be empty and he will have a text from his father saying there was another urgent trip he needed to rush to. 

There's none of that. When he creeps out of his room, rubbing his eyes with one hand subconsciously cradling his swollen belly, he hears chatter in the kitchen. He can smell a combination of scents — Youngyi, sweet strawberry cake. Seokdae, sharp, clean tea tree.

And his mother. Vanilla and budding roses.

Sieun quietly pads around the corner on socked feet, surveying the scene before him. Seokdae wearing the kiss the cook apron Youngyi had gotten him while he whisks something in a bowl. Youngyi chopping up strawberries at the kitchen island as she taps away. 

His mother, sitting not as terse as she could be at the kitchen table.

His father — head rising out of the fridge with a jug of orange juice. 

“— expensive. But - oh!” Youngyi is the first to notice him, one hand cradling his belly, the other poised on the corner of the wall.

“Sieun! When did you wake up? You’re so quiet it scares me sometimes, maybe we should get you a bell.”

The scene is very odd. He didn't think this group of people would ever be seen in the same room, let alone his apartment. 

“Morning, kid,” his father greets as Sieun comes over to the table, hoisting himself onto a chair in-between Seokdae - standing, still whisking - and his mother. 

“You sleep well, hm?”

Sieun nods. Seokdae stops whisking to ruffle his hair with one big hand, his silent form of a greeting. As the alpha goes to the stove, Sieun doesn't miss his mother’s careful observation of the action. She says nothing, only pinching up her lips a little. 

“Your friends came early,” his father continues. “I was going to order something, but the young man over here offered to cook, so I thought - Why not?”

His father sets the orange juice on the table and rubs his knuckles over Sieun’s cheek. The action is so quick and brief Sieun almost misses it. It's a method of affection typically used towards pups, one that hasn't been done to him since he was… He doesn't remember how old. 

“I like hyung’s food better than a restaurant’s,” Sieun mumbles, momentarily stunned by his father’s action.

“Me and Suha . I think.”

“I still think it’s so cute how she’s a mini Suho, ” Youngyi comments, dumping strawberries into the bowl and popping one into her mouth. 

Youngyi had been hesitant to mention Suho freely, at first, His father casts Sieun a cautious look like he expects him to shatter into pieces. Sieun ignores it.

“She definitely eats like him,” He mumbles, feeling the tiniest of thumps against his hand. Sometimes, it still feels so surreal knowing there is a whole human being inside of him. No longer a lump of cells the size of his fist, but more like a watermelon-sized human who he’ll have to push out.

Sieun is by no means queasy, he doesn't think so, but sometimes… Thinking too much about giving birth scares him. His doctors did praise him on gaining weight, which lowered the risks, but certainly did not eliminate them completely.

Teenage mothers are already at risk as is, they’d said. Not to mention, you’re rather small for your age, and have a prior history of health complications. 

Suha was growing at a steady pace, and when she came out, they determined that she would be the size of any average newborn pup - three kilograms. 

Three whole kilograms of mass that Sieun has to expel from his womb.

He’s done his research, like he does on everything else. He knows even mothers ten years his senior have passed during birth — complications from a lousy doctor. Blood loss. Ignored health issues. That all makes his chest cinch, but even worse, were the rates of newborn death.

She won’t be stillborn. Even outside of appointments where he can hear her little heartbeat, Suha is lively as ever, always making her presence known. But…

What if the umbilical cord wraps around her neck? What if she doesn’t breathe like she should? What if, what if, what if. Sieun himself passing is one thing.

But his pup? 

Suho’s pup? 

He’s already nearly lost his alpha. 

He can’t lose her. His Suha. Their Suha.

“You’re worrying.”

His mother’s voice. She’s been so quiet that he had forgotten her presence beside him, and when he looks, she has a peculiar glint in her eye. She isn’t wearing her usual makeup. No perfect berry lipstick or subtle liner with modest blush. Her face is bare of modifiers, and he is almost surprised to see that she has lines of tiredness and age wearing at her features. 

All signs she is human, just as everyone else, no matter how perfect she portrays herself as.

He blinks, the soft chatter of Youngyi and Seokdae and his father background noise. Then, he processes her statement.

“Worrying?” He echoes quietly. He still can’t decipher this shininess she has in her iris. Her hair is down; unstyled. She looks like an average civilian instead of a business woman. She looks, dare he say, like the mother she used to be. Before the arguing, and the divorce, and the custody settlements. The mother who wore sundresses and woven hats, who had frizzy wavy hair and a bubbling laugh.

“About your pup,” She continues quietly. “You do it all the time, these days. You’ll touch your belly, then get a sad look in your eyes — like you’ve lost everything you don’t have yet.”

He doesn’t know how he feels about his emotions being so obvious. As though proving her point, his hand instinctively brushes the curve of his abdomen. 

“... I was just thinking about what the doctors told me,” Sieun admits hesitantly. Youngyi laughs at the kitchen counter. He and his mother, their solemn attitudes - Why is she so grim today? - have formed their own little bubble at the kitchen table.

The older omega averts her eyes to her lap. “I can’t tell you that they’re wrong,” She replies. “You were a tiny baby born a month before you should’ve been, but even then, I still needed stitches after pushing you out. With you being so young and so small, I’d be surprised if there aren’t any complications with your delivery.”

Typical of his mother. She never was one to coat her words in sugar. They sting Sieun like lemon juice in an open cut, salt rubbed into his flesh afterwards just to be even more cruel.

Suha thumps against his hand again. He stares down at his belly, the little life squiggling against his hand. His daughter. Suho’s daughter. Their daughter.

“If it comes down to… that, ” Sieun begins slowly; quietly, unable to make his lips form around the word death .

“I want Suha to be saved. Not me.”

“Are you sure?” She asks. For once, she isn’t judging his decisions, or trying to twist them in her own perception of rightness. She blinks slowly and wetness clings to the dark length of her lashes.

“You can always have another pup,” The older omega continues. “It’s what they told me, when you were still in my belly — that you would be a small baby poor health, and that I’d be better off letting you go and having another pup. But… that’s not how it works, is it?”

She smiles. Wry, lacking mirth or humor.

“They didn’t understand. They don’t. I knew it was risky, carrying you to term, but I would’ve rather held a dead body in my arms than cut your life short before it even had a chance to start.”

Sieun swallows thickly at her raw, honest words, the reality of it all. This is a side of his mother that he isn’t sure he’s ever seen before.

“It’s different with you, though. Your pup? She’s big. Healthy. And I can see without you even saying it that she means the whole world to you.”

The moment is broken by a hand sliding a plate in front of Sieun. The conversation has made him so grim, he doesn't want to eat, but his body protests at the mere thought of not taking sustenance.

His mind lingers on the topic for the rest of the day. After breakfast, his father drives him to see Suho. He sits at the bedside of his alpha, blinking slowly as he thinks of his own circumstances.

Death. Dying without getting to see his alpha’s eyes again; his smile; hear his voice. If having pups is what his body was made for, why is it so dangerous? 

Maybe he wasn't made for this, after all.

Seven months, turns to eight. He vomits more than he eats and his throat is raw from the stomach acid. Suha is healthy as ever, though. Still growing, ready to pop out in just a month. 

That was where the grim complications made themselves unable to be ignored. At his regular check-ups, it did not surpass Sieun how the doctors would look at each other with pressed lips and worried eyes.

You're going to tear quite a lot, they tell him. If it comes down to it, we may have to perform an emergency C-section if pushing isn't enough. And, compared to cases similar to yours…

The chance of death for the mother is seventy percent.

Seventy percent.

His fate is more than halfway sealed. His father, who attended the appointment with him, looks — devastated. He’s been better, like he promised he would. He’s been learning to cook Sieun’s favorite dishes and most days Sieun can't take more than a few bites, but he appreciates the effort of the action. When he’s grieving so heavily he can’t leave his nest, they sit on the couch to watch movies together. He always ruffles Sieun's hair and pinches his cheeks.

He's the father he promised he would be, eyes stricken with horror when being told he might have to watch his son die, and there's nothing that he can do about it.

The news is broken to the rest of them. Youngyi, Seokdae, Suho’s halmeoni, his mother. Youngyi hisses and says — “They haven't done their research. So what if they have a degree?”

Even through her humor, her face is lined with worth. Fear. 

Seokdae sucks in a breath harshly through his teeth. Halmeoni worries her bottom lip, and his mother looks down at her lap. None of their words can change much; If Suha’s delivery goes wrong, he’ll lose everything that he’s just gained. He’ll lose the chance to see Suho again, and the worst part is that there isn't anything anyone can do about it. He can't change his body, make himself less frail and more sturdy, less immune compromised and more steel stomached. 

It all spirals down to chance. 

It’s cold.

Snow flurries outside, December rearing its head. Christmas decor lines the streets and the stores bustle with people buying gifts. Sieun sits beside Suho’s hospital bed, a week shy of their pup's due date, and he breathes. 

He aches. Every part of him hurts, from his ankles, to his back, to the ribs Suha loves to kick against. He feels like his body is falling into pieces but smelling Suho’s scent, seeing his face - pale, slightly gaunt - is enough to keep him stable. 

He’s dressed comfortably, in his own sweatpants and Suho’s sweatshirt that is stretched to accommodate his bump. When he stands, so he can run his hand over Suho’s once Nurse Chae finishes with his IV, he stills at the feeling of pressure between his thighs and liquid streaming down his legs.

Nurse Chae turns around at the sound of fluid hitting the floor, and she blinks twice seeing him standing in a puddle of amniotic fluid. 

“Oh, honey —” She looks back helplessly at the IV. “Let me finish this up, and I'll go fetch your Apps, alright? Go ahead and sit back down.”

Sieun isn't panicked. He knows Suha won't come immediately after his water breaks. His chest is heavy, though, because he knows what this means.

Seventy percent chance of death. A thirty percent chance he’ll live to see another day, to at least hold his pup in his arms, to see his alpha once more.

When his father comes, Sieun is taken to a different room. Away from Suho. If Suho were awake, what would he do? Sieun would love to have his hand to hold, his voice to soothe him.

He has his father instead. Sieun’s mind is numb as he’s changed into a gown, staring blankly at the ceiling while they monitor his dilation. He could be in labor for days, if it came down to that. After this, he might be able to go home, where they'll monitor him closely. 

“Are you scared?” His father asks. “I called those friends of yours, the strawberry girl and the nice young man. Your mother is on her way, and so is… Suho’s halmeoni.”

His alpha's name sounds strange on his father's tongue. Two worlds that he never thought would collide… colliding. Smushed up against each other, morphing into one. His father will be one of the first to hold Suha. His father will hold Suho's daughter, before Suho himself does.

He's thinking too much again. 

“It doesn't look like you're ready to deliver just yet,” the doctor tells him. “We'll check in with you daily, alright?”

Sieun is in labor for a total of five days. He eats peaches and sips at bone broth, his appetite diminished to nothing. Youngyi fusses over him like a mother hen. Halmeoni makes him drink soy milk. Seokdae massages his aching shoulders for him, surprisingly gifted with his calloused hands, and his parents…

They've reached a truce of sorts, it seems. They no longer bicker after Sieun snaps at them, unable to handle the noise. They can now reside in the same room and look at each other without arguments. His mother fluffs his nest for him, her soft scent lingering on his pillows. It's the most motherly she's been to him in years.

One night, after three days of labor, he wakes up with his eyes closed. He can feel a soft, repeating sensation in his hair that he eventually registers as someone stroking it, and the scent of roses and vanilla. He doesn't open his eyes. He lets the feeling lull him back into slumber.

In the morning, his mother acts much the same as she always does - I not for the sad, solemn look in her eyes when she gazes his way.

On the fifth day, he knows. A pressure in his gut, all throughout him. He knows his pup will be born today and he tells his father just that.

The man, crunching cereal, furrows his brow. “You think so?” He questions. “You don't seem any different from the other days.”

There's a bit of anxiety in his voice, poorly hidden nerves, because all of them know what this means. Delivering Suha, means they'll also be putting a gamble on his own life. 

Sieun isn't scared. 

As long as his pup is okay, he will be — whether he survived her birth or not.

He visits Suho. His alpha looks the same. Pale, motionless, and lacking life. Nurse Chae is off today. One of her colleagues lingers, most likely due to the fact that Sieun is quite literally about to burst. He sits there, holding his alpha's hand, stroking the back of it, until the time comes when he can no longer ignore the pressure in his abdomen, the steady cramping that's becoming stronger by the minute.

“Is it contractions, honey?” The nurse asks sympathetically, watching him wince through another. Younger than his parents, but still older than him. “Come on. Let's get you to a suite.”

He parts from Suho yet again. Perhaps for the last time.

“Do you want me to hold your hand?” Youngyi asks, as a joke, probably.

The hospital room is a little crowded, but Sieun isn't overwhelmed by the presence. Suho's halmeoni has gone to grab a drink. His mother and father are just outside the sliding doors. He hesitates, before he nods. Youngyi makes a small chirp of confusion.

“Oh - really?” She tilts her head. “I was just kidding, but if you really want to…”

Youngyi's hand is small and warm, but not as soft as her appearance would let on. Her hands are tough with light callus, a sign of what she's been through, all she's had to do to survive. How did she do it? Going through all she did, and still keeping her head up high? Losing all she has, and still being able to go on so courageously?

Sieun should've asked her before. Now, there's a chance that he'll never be able to.

He swallows at the reminder.

“Youngyi.”

The other omega hums. Her hand twitches in his, her eyes bright, her hair vibrant. She's trimmed it to a pixie cut, her infamous highlights still streaking the ebony locks.

“...I appreciate you. A lot,” he starts quietly. “As my friend. My only friend.”

He doesn't think the words are that major. Youngyi blinks, though, and her eyes are shiny.

“ Yah, ” she says, swatting lightly at him. “Why are you saying that now? You don't wanna be the only one crying, or something?”

Sieun rubs his cheek on his shoulder. Her hand is still so warm in his own.

“I don't want to die without letting you know that.”

“ Sieun.” 

“You heard what the doctors said,” Sieun refutes numbly. “Seventy-percent chance of complications that could lead to my death. It's better to accept the possibility before it happens. Easier, that way.”

“Okay, but that doesn't mean you will die,” Youngyi hisses, her eyes wet. Her eyeliner is beginning to smudge. “Haven't you ever heard of hope, Sieun?”

Those words make him smile. Bitter and mirthlessly, because of course he's had hope. Hope that all of this is just a dream and he'll wake up to Suho's body weighing over his, exhausted after another night of work. Hope that with every time he visits his alpha, his eyes will be open, his lips spread into one of those smiles that brighten his whole face up.

He's too young for all of this.

Youngyi sniffs. She doesn't say anything more, and neither does he. She tries to pull her hand back to wipe her tears but he doesn't let her. Her contact is the only thing keeping him stable, and he bristles at the sharp pain of a contraction.

They're quiet up until his parents return. His mother isn't wearing heels today. She has on a button up dress and thick stockings, her coat damp with drying snow. She clutches her bag as she finds a seat near the bedside, pursing her lips in the way she does when she's found a problem.

“We'll have to bring more chairs,” she points out. “Or some will have to stand.”

She's right. Her and Youngyi have occupied the only two chairs in the room.

“It's okay,” Sieun murmurs. “Not everyone will be in the room during the delivery.” Not to mention, it could take almost a full day from now before his pup is ready to come out. That brings the nagging thought of, what if she's never ready? What if they have to cut her out of him? Could his body even handle that? Could Suha even handle that? He's spent nights anxiously researching about the risks of a c-section and everything that could possibly go wrong.

People filter in and out. Doctors, routinely checking his dilation, telling him to push if he needs to. Suho's halmeoni, who strokes his hair and tells him about when Suho was born.

“He was so broad, that boy,” His halmeoni recalls wistfully. “They wanted to cut her open, but his mother insisted they not. Funny, how she went through all that to birth him, and still abandoned him.”

He eats ice chips, and paces around the room. The doctors say he can eat real food but he's too nervous to be hungry. He thinks he'll only be okay to relax once he hears Suha's shrill crying, the signal that she's alive and breathing.

He convinces Youngyi to go home and sleep when her eyes start dropping. She tries to fight with him, but Sieun gets Seokdae on his side, and away she goes. Suho's halmeoni bids him goodbye with a forehead kiss. 

His mother and father are the two who stay.

It's his father's hand that he holds now, as the doctor down beneath him hums. “You're fully dilated,” the beta tells him. “Is this position alright?”

It's not. It defies the natural laws of gravity, and would only make things more difficult. Sieun shakes his head.

Within minutes, with the help of the doctor and his father, heçs turned over, bracing himself on his forearms as he feels what can only be described as a tug in his abdomen. His belly feels so incredibly weighted down and when he dares flex, he sucks in a harsh breath.

“That was good,” the midwife praises from the bedside. “Try again, sweetheart.”

He's barely started pushing, yet he's already exhausted. Is that normal? He thinks it should be.

Again, again, again. He presses his forehead to his arms with a series of heavy pants as he pauses to try and catch his breath, body trembling with shivers. He can feel her coming out, entering the canal, and he doesn't think three kilos has ever seemed so intimidating. 

“How —” He coughs, panting. “How long has it been?” He asks, voice hoarse.

“Just an hour,” his father tells him from the bedside. “Why? Do you need a break?”

Sieun shakes head. “‘m fine,” he denies. “Fine…”

He can feel himself tearing. Ripping as his body tries to expel his pup, but he isn't quite strong enough. Blood pours down his thighs and he can feel it dampening the sheets, smell the copper in the air. 

That's not good, is it? It can't be. 

He isn't that focused on what everyone is saying, his father’s words of comfort barely audible to him, but he can hear c-section and risks. This isn't a choice. He has to do this.

For himself. For his pup .

Pain is everywhere he can feel it, places he didn't know existed. The bedsheets are wet with crimson and his skin is entirely dampened with sweat. Still, he pushes through — literally. He bites down hard on his lip the further she sinks down, tasting blood in his mouth, and —

She's crying. Her cries make his ears ring. It's the only thing he can hear over the slow pounding of his heart. Her voice is high and shrill and reverberates off the walls.

She's alive; his Suha . 

“Oh, you’re a big girl, aren't you?” The nurse coos. Sieun is still on his front, unable to find the energy to move. He couldn't even if he had it. His chest whistles with every breath and something shifts there when he so much as shifts.

“ Sieun-ah ,” his father says softly, brushing his hair back from his face. Sieun’s vision is blurry, but he can see the worry on his father’s face. 

The panic. 

Why is he panicked?

Sieun feels fine. He doesn't feel like he's dying, even though he knows he is. He feels floaty and high and everything is slow and sticky, syrup from a spoon. It doesn't matter, now, because at least his pup is safe.

At least she can meet Suho someday, since he can't. 

“Wanna see her,” he murmurs, blinking slowly. 

“Sweetheart,” one of the nurses says. “You still have to push out the placenta —”

“Don't care. Wanna see her.”

Just once, before the white spots in his vision take it over fully. He hears some hushed arguing as his position is tenderly switched. That movement is excruciating and he coughs into his hand.

It comes back slick with red blood. That doesn't matter, though. All that does is the little yellow blanket bundle being lowered into his arms, the chubby round face with squished cheeks and pallid skin, a full head of hair chunky with lanugo. His trembling fingers touch the ebony tresses, unable to comprehend how soft they are.

She came out of him. She is his, yet she won't even be able to see him when she opens her eyes. It's alright. She has all her grandparents, and Youngyi, and Seokdae.

And Suho, of course. He’d be delighted to know that he has a daughter. 

Sieun doesn't want to hand his daughter away. But, he knows he has to — his arms aren't strong enough to support her weight for much longer, and the white spots have grown larger. He can't see anyone's face, or hear their voice.

He's tired.

He wants to sleep.

How long has he been tired for?

For how many nights has he gone to sleep, yet still woken up exhausted? 

This is the worst thing that could happen to him, yet strangely

Sieun is more at peace than he's ever felt before.