Chapter Text
January 2028:
When Jeonghan’s pregnancy announcement popped up in the group chat, Hansol’s stomach flipped with concern.
He had the urge to burrow his phone in their couch cushions, do something, do anything to hide it. It was irrational, considering Seungkwan would see the notification if he picked up his own phone, but Hansol wanted to keep the news from him. Just for a little longer. It was a knee-jerk protective instinct, however nonsensical.
“What? Why did you make that sound?” Seungkwan peered over at the phone, chin digging into Hansol’s shoulder. “Oh.” It sounded like it’d been gut punched out of him.
Big sister x2!! Coming June 2028, texted Seungcheol, attaching a picture of Haneul holding an ultrasound.
“Times two?” Hansol asked. “Does that mean…?”
Seungkwan pinched at the screen, zooming in on the ultrasound. “Twins. They’re having twins.”
“Oh, wow.”
Hansol’s concern stretched to Jeonghan too. He remembered what his pregnancy with Haneul was like. He hadn’t known Jeonghan and Seungcheol were trying for another, especially after Jeonghan’s first pregnancy.
Maybe they hadn’t even been trying. Hansol wisely held his tongue on that thought. He turned his phone off and put it face down on their coffee table.
“Are you okay?” asked Hansol gently.
“Why wouldn’t I be okay? I’m so happy for them.” Seungkwan sounded a little wet. “Three kids.” His voice strained at the center. “What a dream come true.”
Seungkwan burst into tears.
February 2027:
They were naive going into it. Hansol realized it after, when they were already in the thick of it, but he just never imagined getting Seungkwan pregnant would be such an ordeal.
His points of reference included Jeonghan, whose surprise pregnancy with Haneul derailed what was supposed to be Seventeen’s last 13-member comeback before enlistment, and Hansol’s cousin Yunseul, who got pregnant and eloped at 22. Surely, getting pregnant was easy if people were accidentally doing it all the time? And, Hansol thought privately, maybe he was blinded by his bias and alpha instincts, but Seungkwan just seemed naturally fertile to him. He’d initially been relieved they’d gone their whole relationship without a pregnancy scare.
When they started trying, Seungkwan’s rules were simple: no caffeine, no alcohol, a daily prenatal vitamin with folic acid, exercise, and a healthy diet. Keeping Seungkwan well-fucked during his fertile windows was also no hardship for them.
The day after Seungkwan went off his birth control — probably too early for the hormones to have worked their way out of his system, but it was the principle of it — they fucked twice before 8 am: sweet and slow in bed, then eager and frenzied against the kitchen countertop. Hansol felt like a freshly presented teenager when rationale set in again and he realized he’d mouthed too hard at Seungkwan’s neck, leaving marks.
Seungkwan tsked at him for getting too nippy, like he was scolding a misbehaving puppy. He didn’t seem properly annoyed about it though, even as he dabbed concealer over his neck, fussing over running late for his morning schedule. He seemed giddy, almost. We’re finally trying, Seungkwan said, breathy, like he was in wondrous disbelief. We’re trying for a baby. Hansol wrapped him up in his arms, held him close, and tried his level best to kiss the expression off Seungkwan’s face.
As the negative pregnancy tests racked up, Seungkwan started reading TTC forums obsessively. Ovulation predictor kits and pregnancy tests cluttered their bathroom cabinet. The rules became increasingly elaborate: daily pineapple with a spoonful of honey and cinnamon, keeping his joints warm, guaifenesin during ovulation. Seungkwan replaced all their cleaning products with non-toxic ones, free of endocrine-disrupting chemicals.
Once, when Seungkwan caught Hansol sitting on the couch working on his laptop, he snatched it off his lap. Heat apparently wasn’t good for sperm production. Afterwards, Hansol dutifully used the laptop stand Seungkwan bought off Coupang.
Hansol almost put his foot down once the rules veered into old wives’ tales rather than medical recommendations, but Seungkwan claimed they couldn’t hurt. Mostly, Hansol just missed cuddling Seungkwan in the afterglow. That was much more difficult to do when Seungkwan was keeping his legs elevated against the headboard.
A year, Seungkwan said. We’ll give it a year. My OB/GYN says if we don’t get pregnant after that, we should get a fertility evaluation.
There was a brief, dizzying interlude where Seungkwan tested positive. The line was faint. Seungkwan had primed Hansol, so he knew very well that any line, no matter how faint, was a positive. Still, Seungkwan retested. To rule out the speckle of doubt, he said.
Not even a full week later, Seungkwan tested negative. A chemical pregnancy was what the doctor called it. A pregnancy loss before 5 weeks of gestation.
Seungkwan cried on and off for days. After the doctor hung up, Hansol shepherded Seungkwan to bed, bundled him in their blankets until he looked sufficiently cocooned, and collected an armful of items to set on their nightstand: a glass of water, a heating pad, snacks, ibuprofen, and an eye mask. Seungkwan wasn’t cramping or bleeding — it was too early in the pregnancy — but Hansol didn’t know what else to do. To have something playing as a distraction, he selected the first show on Netflix, which was a nature documentary, then climbed into bed.
Hansol trailed his fingers up and down Seungkwan’s arm. Seungkwan stared at the TV screen blankly and in complete silence, until he made a weird snuffly sound. Hansol looked down. Seungkwan was tearing up. Hansol looked up at the TV. The sea lions were doing backflips.
Seungkwan turned into Hansol, hiding his face. I didn’t even know I’d lost our baby, he said into Hansol’s chest, quiet, like a confessional. I thought I’d know, but I had no idea. It didn’t feel like anything.
Hansol pressed his lips to the top of Seungkwan’s head, breathing in his scent. He didn’t know what to say to that. His throat ached with tears.
It was like they were never here, continued Seungkwan. Our baby was never real.
They were real to me, said Hansol. They would have been a January baby, like you. We’d be a dual language household. I’ll teach them English. You’ll teach them Wonder Girls discography. They have your cheeks, your eyes.
August 2027:
The months dragged on, and the pregnancy tests remained negative. Seungkwan’s scent grew bitter when they spotted couples with babies in public. Worse was the longing, so intense it made Hansol feel simultaneously nauseous and hollow inside when he caught a whiff.
“Maybe you just need to relax,” Hansol suggested, when they were driving home one night from dinner with Jeonghan, Seungcheol, and Haneul.
(Seungkwan had doused himself in scent blocker before they left their apartment. When his bitter scent crept through anyway, watching Haneul sleepily nuzzle into Seungcheol’s side midway through dinner, Hansol elbowed Seungkwan, who excused himself to reapply blocker in the bathroom. Jeonghan’s eyes followed Seungkwan as he left the table, expression complicated, but he said nothing.)
Lately, trying for a baby had eclipsed their life. Seungkwan seemed to think he could self-manage his body into obeying, into a successful pregnancy. He oscillated between determination and despair towards his unruly body.
Hansol promptly realized he’d put his foot in his mouth when Seungkwan’s hackles raised, gaze snapping towards him.
“Chwe Hansol, what did you just say?”
“No, I mean- Try not to stress so much about it.”
“Wow.” Seungkwan’s voice was tight. “Thanks. Why didn’t I think of that before.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Hansol said sheepishly.
Seungkwan didn’t say anything, staring straight at the road ahead with his hands on the wheel. Then: “How did you mean it?”
“You’ve been so…” Hansol picked his words carefully. “Stressed lately. I don’t like seeing you this way.” He wondered if Seungkwan was sensitive right now because he was hungry, though he knew better than to ask that. Seungcheol had picked a Japanese restaurant for dinner, and Seungkwan was avoiding raw fish to be safe. “We haven’t seen Jeonghan and Seungcheol in ages, and you didn’t even seem like you had a good time tonight.”
Seungkwan sputtered, indignant. “Oh, so it’s my fault? You can’t think of a single reason why it’d be hard to be around them right now.”
Hansol exhaled a long breath. “Seungkwan, you know I love you, but it’s hard to have a conversation when you’re like this.”
“Like what?”
Hansol hesitated.
“No, tell me. Say it.”
“I don’t think I should.”
“Fine. Let’s just not talk then. If it’s so difficult to talk to me.”
“Seungkwan, that’s not what I said.”
Seungkwan turned up the volume of the car stereo, IU’s voice trickling through the speakers.
When they got home, Seungkwan stalked towards the shower. Hansol laid on the couch, phone raised above him, scrolling through Baemin. He finally settled on tuna kimbap from the keto kimbap place, which used egg instead of rice. Their go-to gukbap restaurant tempted him but Seungkwan had an early morning variety shoot, so he was more likely to actually eat the kimbap, even though he’d still fuss about looking puffy tomorrow.
A loud crash came from the bathroom, only slightly drowned out by the sound of the water still running.
Hansol lifted his head. “Seungkwan?”
Silence.
Hansol scrambled to his feet to knock at the bathroom door. “You okay?” No answer. Hansol’s heartbeat spiked. He jiggled the doorknob. “Seungkwan? I’m coming in.”
Seungkwan was crouched on the shower floor, his back to the door. His shoulders shook with soundless sobs.
Hansol wrenched open the glass shower door. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He put his hand on the back of Seungkwan’s neck. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
Seungkwan shook his head, eyes shut tight, and inhaled a shuddery breath.
Led by instinct, Hansol stepped into the shower and knelt on the tile in front of Seungkwan, pulling him into his arms.
"I'm fine!” wailed Seungkwan. “Everything’s fine!” Hansol pulled away to look at him properly. Seungkwan’s eyelashes were wet. “I accidentally dropped my hair mask. I’m fine. You didn’t have to come in.”
Hansol’s eyeline had zeroed in Seungkwan like tunnel vision. He hadn’t even noticed the spilled container on the shower floor.
“I’ll order a new one for you.” Hansol rubbed Seungkwan’s back. “It’s okay.”
“No, no, don’t. It doesn’t matter.” His breath hitched. “I don’t know why I’m crying about the mask. I don't care. I don’t even like it that much! Don’t you dare buy another one.”
“Okay, okay,” soothed Hansol. “I won’t buy one if you don’t want me to.”
"Ignore me. Everything's fine. You can go back outside if you want."
Hansol made a non-committal hum. "No, I think I'll stay right here."
Hansol held Seungkwan tighter, adjusting their stance so they were both under the shower stream. His clothes were soaked and he was getting cold.
Crouched at this angle, Hansol had a good view of the tile lining the bottom quarter of their shower wall. There wasn’t much else to look at here. The longer he looked, the more sure he became: there were patches of something pink growing on their white tiles. He squinted. Yeah, that was definitely pink.
“Wow, we really need to clean the tile in here.”
Seungkwan sniffed. “What?”
“There are weird colors on our tile. Like, it might be mold?”
Seungkwan whipped around to stare, then: “But I just cleaned a few days ago.”
“Babe, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think your natural cleaning products work that well.”
“No. Really?” Hansol nodded. “Do you think shower mold lowers fertility?” asked Seungkwan hopefully. “Maybe that has something to do with it and we just have to clean?”
“Uhh, I don’t know. I don’t think so? I’m pretty sure Jeonghan and Seungcheol aren’t scrubbing their bathroom like you are, and well. Look at them.”
Seungkwan deflated a little, then grew very still. “It's okay if you're sick of me,” he said finally.
Hansol shook his head. This conversation was giving him whiplash. “What?"
“I’m horrible. Have I been a little crazy lately?”
“You’re not horrible. Don’t say that about my partner.”
“But crazy?”
Hansol hesitated.
Seungkwan smacked his shoulder, but he was cracking a smile now.
“Maybe a little,” allowed Hansol. He thumbed over the quirk of Seungkwan’s lips. “You’ve been stressed.”
Seungkwan had always been high-strung at baseline, but he’d been wound so tightly lately that Hansol worried he’d snap soon. Hansol wanted to tuck Seungkwan away and unwind him. He wanted Seungkwan to sleep well and eat well. He wanted...
“I ordered delivery for you,” said Hansol. “Fnish your shower and it should be here by then.”
“Oh, but I have a morning shoot tomorrow…”
“Yeah, I know. I got keto kimbap.”
Seungkwan’s face crumpled. He buried his face in Hansol’s chest.
Hansol stroked at his hair, heart aching with the swell of emotion. His eyes pricked with wet heat.
“You’re still wearing your socks.”
“Huh?” Hansol looked down. “Oh yeah.”
“And your clothes.”
“I thought you were hurt at first," explained Hansol.
“You’re all wet.”
“It’s okay. It’ll dry.”
“My Hansollie.” Seungkwan’s voice trembled. “You take such good care of me.”
Hansol shrugged helplessly. “I just want you to be happy.” He pressed a kiss to Seungkwan’s head, his heart in his throat. “I want to give you what you want. What you need.”
“You do. You always do.”