Chapter Text
Two weeks after San comes back into Yeosang’s life, the alpha takes him out to dinner.
At first, Yeosang rejects the offer. It feels silly—they’re not together. They’re not exactly dating, not really in love. They’re simply friends, only united by the fact that in less than two months, they’ll be having a baby. And yet San is insistent.
“I haven’t been here for the last seven months,” he says pleadingly to Yeosang over the phone. “Let me do something nice for you and Wooyoungie.”
From the other side of the couch, Wooyoung raises an eyebrow as he eavesdrops. He’s not quite fond of San right now. That much, Wooyoung made clear from the moment Yeosang’s pregnancy test came back positive and San was suddenly nowhere to be found.
Of course, Yeosang and Wooyoung know why San disappeared out of nowhere, understand why he made the decisions he did—but the months of radio silence, of ultrasounds and follow-ups and making preparations to actually raise a baby, San’s baby, all without San’s input, did more damage than either of them would like to admit.
(At least San agreed to be involved the moment he finally found out.)
“Please, Sangie,” San asks again, and this time Wooyoung mouths, say yes. Even despite the rigidness in his posture. Even through the thin line of his lips.
I’ll raise the pup with you, Wooyoung promised months ago, cuddling Yeosang to sleep as they did often by this point, when it became more and more apparent that Yeosang would have to do this alone. I’ll be here for you every step of the way, no matter what.
The knowledge was comforting. Even if Yeosang didn’t have anyone else, at least he would always have his roommate, his best friend, his Wooyoung.
Except he doesn’t know where Wooyoung stands on his offer now that San is back.
(Yeosang finds it scares him. It’s all too complicated now. Selfishly, he doesn’t want their relationship to change.)
“Okay,” Yeosang still says to San. “I’ll come.”
“And Wooyoungie?”
Wooyoung shakes his head instantly, getting up from the couch. Yeosang fights the urge to call out to him. “He’s busy this weekend,” Yeosang lies, and he knows San knows he’s lying, too. But Yeosang can’t make the choice for Wooyoung.
San hangs up after spending the next few minutes working out the when, where, and how. Yeosang tries to pretend he doesn’t hear Wooyoung’s receding footsteps during the conversation, the loud slam of his bedroom door as he disappears inside.
Wooyoung doesn’t slip into Yeosang’s bed that night.
He does, however, send Yeosang off when San picks him up two days later. “Have fun,” Wooyoung says, squeezing Yeosang’s hand and giving San a once-over that feels pointed. It’s very much a if you fuck with my best friend you’re doomed kind of look, but San doesn’t seem to take offense to it. San gives Wooyoung a bag of pastries from his favored bakery, hands Yeosang a bouquet of flowers—is this a date? Yeosang isn’t sure he wants to know the answer—and then they’re off.
They end up at a Japanese restaurant that was one of Yeosang’s favorites back when they were all undergraduates. It was comforting whenever exam season rolled around, when graduate school applications brought unwanted stress. When Yeosang mentions this to San, San smiles fondly. They settle down in a cozy booth at the corner, and San makes sure Yeosang is comfortable before sitting across from him.
They order food. And they talk.
There’s so much to catch up on. After all, they’re friends first and foremost; they’ve known each other since they were eighteen. Yeosang finds they slip easily back into their old dynamics despite the time that has passed, despite the new developments in their lives.
San tells Yeosang about his time in Namhae, where he spent the majority of the last few months. He recounts fishing trips with his parents, cooking adventures with his sister, the time he spent holding his family through the difficult moments. Yeosang hums through it all, interjecting with comments at all the right moments—and San smiles. He laughs. He regards Yeosang with affection, with warmth, and Yeosang can’t help but revel in it. He’s missed San so much. It hasn’t been the same without him.
(I’m sorry. Family emergency. I won’t be in Seoul for a while, San texted Yeosang and Wooyoung all those months ago in the middle of the night. By the time the two of them realized what was going on, San already packed up and left. They tried seeking him out—except San made it difficult. And when Yeosang’s test came out positive, they collectively agreed to give San space. Ultimately, the knowledge of the pup would have only burdened him further.
It doesn’t ease the guilt in Yeosang’s chest—yet San is too kindhearted for his own good. If he holds a grudge against Yeosang or Wooyoung for not telling him sooner, he’s never shown it.)
“Seonghwa hyung told me you had an ultrasound earlier this week,” San says at last, his tone tentative. He fiddles with the chopsticks in his hand, swirling the broth of the ramen he’s long finished.
Yeosang knew the conversation would eventually circle here; they can only avoid the elephant in the room for so long. It still startles him a little. “I did,” he says slowly.
“How did it go?”
“It was fine. The doctor did all the routine checkups. They said the pup is progressing well.”
“That’s good,” San says. It’s obvious there’s more he wants to add, his gaze searching Yeosang’s, yet he doesn’t speak. Clearly, he’s not quite sure how to proceed.
“Do you want to see the scan?” Yeosang finally asks.
San’s lips part. He nods.
Yeosang finds the image in his messages with Wooyoung and hands his phone to San.
The alpha immediately gasps, glancing up at Yeosang in disbelief before turning his attention back to the screen. “This is so detailed,” he breathes after a minute of scrutinizing the ultrasound. “I can see everything.”
Yeosang smiles.
“I can see her whole face. And her hands. I mean—” San suddenly stops, expression turning sheepish. “His? Their?”
Yeosang laughs. “We don’t know the gender yet.”
“You want it to be a surprise?”
He nods.
San hums thoughtfully as he slides Yeosang’s phone back to him. “That’s fair. Do you have a preference?”
“Not really. Wooyoungie thinks it’s a girl.”
“I trust him. His intuition is usually right.”
“I kind of hope he’s not,” Yeosang says wryly. “The pup will be in high school and he’ll still be gloating about how he predicted their gender when they were like, negative one year old.”
They exchange a look, both clearly imagining the scenario, and collectively burst into giggles. If Wooyoung was here, he’d frown indignantly at the accusation—but then he’d laugh, too, easily becoming the loudest in the room, because Wooyoung is Wooyoung and he never fails to give attention to even Yeosang’s stupidest jokes. He’s silly like that. He’s considerate like that.
Yeosang finds his laughter faltering.
(Wooyoung should be here.)
“I was actually wondering about that,” San says when their joking has ebbed.
Yeosang tilts his head curiously.
“If you, ah, don’t want to talk about this now it’s okay, but…” San pauses, twisting the gold ring on his right hand. “Do you know what you’re going to do about law school? Once the baby is born?”
Yeosang bites his lip, putting his chopsticks down as he contemplates the question. For a few seconds, silence stretches between them. “I want to go back. Eventually,” he says at last, and he searches San’s eyes for opposition.
San merely nods for Yeosang to continue.
“I talked to the university. The school year just wrapped up, so they’re technically letting me take the next year off. They said I can come back the following year, and they’ll even honor my scholarship.” Yeosang watches San, the way the alpha listens intently, how he hangs onto every word Yeosang says. “But I’ve been thinking… how can I juggle law school with a baby?”
San’s lips purse. His gaze softens.
Yeosang looks away from him. The simple, easygoing atmosphere from before is gone, replaced by a heavier, more concrete reality. He stares down at his rounded middle, placing a careful hand over it, and thumbs at the weaving on his sweater. “Even after they’re born… they’ll need me to feed them, to take care of them. I don’t know how I’ll go back to classes, pursue an internship. There’s just so much to consider.”
“It must feel really daunting,” San says sympathetically, and Yeosang swallows.
Daunting hardly covers it.
“I can’t help but think about how desperate I was to get into a good law school without having to take gap years,” he says quietly, feeling his throat grow tight as he remembers the late nights studying, the long days working after hours of classes, all in pursuit of a dream that felt unattainable at the time. “I never imagined taking a break in the middle.”
San stays silent.
“But I chose this,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t complain.”
“You’re allowed to be upset.”
Yeosang quickly shakes his head, though. “I chose this,” he repeats, because it’s true. It was his decision to take a year off, to put his schooling and career on hold, all for the child growing inside of him. His family, his fellow students, even some of his friends told him to reconsider, said he would regret making this choice.
And yet he’s here. Sitting here in this cozy restaurant, across from the alpha who knocked him up, only a few weeks away from welcoming his pup.
“You’ve worked so hard over the last few years, jagiya,” San murmurs, the endearment slipping off his tongue like silk. He reaches a hand across the table as if seeking out Yeosang’s touch, but pulls it back when Yeosang doesn’t move. He still gives Yeosang a small smile. “If anyone deserves a break, it’s you, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be frustrated by the circumstances. You’re only trying your best.”
San is so sincere, so earnest as he speaks. Yeosang doesn’t know why the words immediately bring moisture to his eyes.
San blinks in alarm.
“Sorry,” Yeosang croaks, voice cracking, hanging his head and squeezing his eyes shut.
“Hey, it’s okay,” San says, so soft, so tender.
Yet Yeosang wraps both arms around the life growing inside him, mulling over San’s words. He doesn’t know why these emotions are hitting him right now. So much has changed. So much in his life will continue to change, all for this tiny pup. The fear, the nostalgia, the grief encompasses him all at once as he processes his thoughts, and suddenly he finds it difficult to breathe.
“Yeosangie.”
He doesn’t even realize there are tears streaming down his cheeks until he hears San get up from his seat.
San slips easily into the booth beside Yeosang. He shuffles close, placing a careful hand on Yeosang’s shoulder. He slowly strokes up and down Yeosang’s arm once, twice, then pauses. Hesitant.
Yeosang turns and buries his face against San’s neck.
(San is not just “the alpha who knocked him up.” How could Yeosang ever refer to him like that?)
San exhales, wrapping gentle arms around Yeosang as he leans against the alpha. San is warm, comforting, safe. He feels San press a kiss to the side of his head.
“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” San says quietly, rubbing Yeosang’s back in soothing circles. “If anything, I should be the one who’s sorry. I know it’s hard right now, but we’ll figure it out, alright? I’m here for you. You can go back after a year, just like the university said. I’ll take care of our baby when you’re in class, or when you’re working. We’ll make it work. I promise.”
Despite knowing San’s fierce loyal tendencies, his decision to be involved the moment he found out about the pregnancy, Yeosang can’t help but doubt every time San says we. Does he truly mean it? Will he actually stay and raise their child with Yeosang, not get up and run when life gets too hard? After all, Yeosang’s heard far too many horror stories. San could leave tomorrow and he’d still have his family, his career, everything he spent all these years working for—all without a fickle pup to worry about. Truthfully, he doesn’t need Yeosang or their baby.
Wooyoung promised Yeosang, anyway. Wooyoung will be here even if San’s not.
(That’s another thought Yeosang wonders about—San keeps saying we, as in Yeosang and San? But what about Wooyoung? Where does he fit into all this? How can Yeosang raise their child without his best friend?)
And yet still, San stays.
Yeosang closes his eyes, curling his fingers against San’s soft sweater and breathing in the alpha’s soothing scent. He tries not to think about his racing thoughts. San holds Yeosang close for two, five, ten, minutes. He lets Yeosang simply rest against him, and he carefully strokes Yeosang’s hair, food on the table forgotten in lieu of the omega’s comfort. Yeosang melts into him as San hums softly under his breath, a tune Yeosang belatedly realizes is one of his own favorites—a fact he told San nearly a year ago, if not longer.
The thought makes his heart grow warm. San is here. He’s stayed. He’s by Yeosang’s side even despite the uncertainty of their future.
(Wooyoung has, too. Wooyoung has always stayed.)
Slowly, as he comes back to himself, Yeosang lifts his head. He must look like a mess—he thinks he catches a waiter staring at him with pity, and another pair whispering in the corner while stealing glances in their direction—but San isn’t deterred at all. He gives Yeosang a kind smile, one arm still around his shoulders, and hands him a handkerchief.
“Do you want to leave?” he asks softly.
Yeosang tentatively nods, wiping at his eyes. He keeps his grip on San’s sweater as San waves a waiter over, pays the bill, and gets up, stretching out a hand for Yeosang to hold onto as he shuffles out of the booth. The moment they both put their coats on, San holds his hand out again. His lips quirk shyly, as if expecting Yeosang to reject it—but Yeosang grabs San’s hand, anyway. He squeezes their intertwined fingers.
San squeezes back. He leans over, presses a delicate, fleeting kiss to Yeosang’s cheek.
“Let’s go,” he murmurs, and Yeosang can’t help but smile to himself.
They walk out of the restaurant hand-in-hand. It’s domestic, romantic. The waiters wave goodbye; to outsiders like them, Yeosang and San must look like a proper couple, like a pregnant omega with his alpha mate. The idea makes Yeosang’s omega ache with longing. His omega wishes San was his mate. His alpha.
Except he’s not.
And Yeosang has Wooyoung, anyway. It doesn’t matter what his omega craves—Yeosang would never give up Wooyoung.
In the car, Yeosang leans back against the passenger seat, watching the way San taps his fingers to the beat of the music as he drives. Yeosang lets his own hands rest against his swollen middle, carefully tracing the movements he feels from the baby within. It’s still a foreign sensation, but he honestly doesn’t mind. He enjoys being able to feel physically connected to his pup.
San notices. Of course he does. Yeosang catches the alpha glancing at him more than once, gaze lingering on his belly, but Yeosang closes his eyes, exhaustion finally catching up to him.
When he comes to, San is carefully shaking him awake.
“We’re here,” he says when Yeosang stirs. He’s parked in the space that’s technically Yeosang and Wooyoung’s—but San is the only one who uses it. It made sense to simply buy the parking pass despite neither of them owning a car, because street parking is expensive and San’s over so often it doesn’t make much of a difference in the long run, anyway. “Let me walk you up.”
The ride up the elevator to the sixth floor is relatively silent. When they reach the front door, Yeosang extends a hand to put the code into the keypad—yet he pauses. His gaze flickers to San—kind, sweet, wonderful San—and he can’t help but hesitate. He doesn’t want to say goodbye just yet.
For a few moments, quiet lapses between them. San’s eyebrows furrow when he doesn’t move.
At last, Yeosang musters up the courage to say, “You should stay over.”
San’s eyes immediately widen. “Oh, I don’t know if… I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“Wooyoungie won’t say no. You wouldn’t be a bother.”
“Are you sure?” San’s gaze searches his. “I don’t want to make you both uncomfortable.”
Yeosang can’t help but huff in amusement. “I’m literally carrying your child, Sanie, it’s fine. Really. You’ve stayed over plenty of times.”
Yeosang notices San’s face quickly reddening, but he chooses not to comment on it for San’s sake. Instead, he gets the front door open and steps inside the apartment, letting San in as well.
────────────
Wooyoung appears in front of them the moment the door shuts closed.
“Yeosangie?” Wooyoung asks, concerned. “Why are your eyes red? Were you crying?” As soon as Yeosang’s coat and shoes are off, Wooyoung immediately puts an arm around him, guiding him towards the couch. Wooyoung gives San an accusatory look from the corner of his eye as he does so, and San can’t help but gulp.
Wooyoung is a little (a lot) terrifying. He has every right to be skeptical of San.
“It’s not him,” Yeosang says, sitting down heavily. San finds his gaze automatically drawn to Yeosang, to the gentle roundness beneath his sweater, where he’s carrying their child. San’s child. “I just—I’ve been emotional lately. It’s not Sanie’s fault.”
At that, Wooyoung’s eyes soften. He pats Yeosang’s shoulder and says, “Let me get you some water,” making his way over to the kitchen. He frowns at San still standing awkwardly in the entryway. “Are you just going to stand there, or…?”
San feels himself flush. “Ah, no, I’m—”
“He’s staying over,” Yeosang says. “I asked him to.”
Wooyoung raises an eyebrow. He says nothing as he comes out of the kitchen and hands Yeosang a warm glass of water, instead asking, “How was dinner?”
“It was good. We went to that Japanese restaurant you like.”
“And you didn’t bring back anything for me?”
Yeosang shrugs sheepishly. “We left before we got to dessert.”
Wooyoung hums, once again side-eyeing San. “Are you sure you want him staying over? He really didn’t upset you?”
He speaks as if San isn’t in the room. As if San isn’t hearing every word of this conversation.
Yeosang nods, though. He sends a small smile in San’s direction. “He didn’t upset me. So yes, I’m sure—I mean, my clothes will fit him.”
“It’s not the clothes I’m worried about,” Wooyoung says, slightly exasperated, but his voice is filled with nothing but affection as he kisses his best friend’s forehead.
“I want him here,” Yeosang says simply, and the words shouldn’t affect San as much as they do—but San’s heart flutters, anyway. His alpha preens. The same surge of protectiveness he’s been feeling since he learned about the baby comes back with full force. He wants to do nothing more than envelop Yeosang in his arms, hold him and their unborn pup close, and San’s alpha whines at the thought of claiming a mate, someone to call his omega…
But now is not the right time. San doesn’t yet know what his heart desires.
If Yeosang wants him here, though, then San will stay.
Thirty minutes later, San sits down at Yeosang’s desk in different clothes. Yeosang’s wardrobe really does fit him well—the t-shirt is slightly too small at the shoulders, a bit large at the waist, but the sweatpants are exactly right. The clothes smell so much like Yeosang that San wouldn’t have minded even if they didn’t fit.
He finds himself scanning the bedroom.
The last time San was in here… well. It was for Yeosang’s heat, seven months ago, when Wooyoung was out of town and Yeosang didn’t have anyone else to help him through it. It was right before San went back to Namhae for an extended period of time. Right before his grandmother passed, before not even a few weeks later, his grandfather did, too.
San can hardly recall how he got through those months. He’d worked remotely from Namhae, drowning in his grief, ignoring texts and calls from his friends and trying to be there for his family as much as possible.
All he remembers is finally coming back to Seoul two weeks ago. He remembers Yunho and Mingi embracing him, Hongjoong and Jongho asking how he’s been, Seonghwa’s guarded expression, his quiet request for San to contact Wooyoung—and by extension, Yeosang—as soon as possible.
And now…
It’s not just San’s life that’s been completely disrupted. San reminds himself of this whenever his throat grows tight, as he contemplates the logistics of the future ahead. On Yeosang’s desk, San can make out all the law textbooks, the printed packets of case studies marked up with different colored pens—but he also sees, on top of them, the newer pregnancy books. He notices the cluster of prenatal vitamins sitting on Yeosang’s nightstand table. He spots the appointment dates circled in red on the desk calendar, a picture of an ultrasound scan with a hehetmon doodle stuck next to it.
San sighs.
“It’s a lot, isn’t it?”
San swivels around in the chair to see Wooyoung with his arms crossed, hip cocked against the bedroom door. He gives San a barely-there smile as he follows San’s gaze across the new books, the vitamins, the calendar.
San simply nods. He doesn’t trust himself to say anything else.
Wooyoung crosses the room to sit on the bed.
“Yeosangie’s in the bathroom,” he says when San blinks. “He’s doing his skincare, which is like, thirty steps long, so he might be a while.” Wooyoung takes a deep breath, eyes tracing San’s face. “I missed you, you know.”
San swallows. He knows. He saw all of Wooyoung’s text and call notifications, even if he never read them, never responded aside from the first time, just to let Wooyoung know what happened. Of all of their friends, Wooyoung is probably the one who reached out the most. “I missed you, too.”
“I haven’t been kind to you.”
San begins to shake his head. Wooyoung holds a hand up.
“All of this”—Wooyoung waves his hands around vaguely—“has been really difficult on Sangie. You know how he is. Between the two of us, I never expected him to get pregnant first. At least, definitely not in the middle of law school.” Wooyoung’s lips quirk. “I’m sure it was quite a shock for you.”
“That’s putting it lightly,” San admits—he never envisioned having to help Yeosang with his heat in the first place, let alone the possible implications of sleeping with his omega friend—and Wooyoung lets out a laugh before his expression turns serious again.
“I think it was especially rough because you weren’t here. Yeosangie didn’t know what to do. And when you were unresponsive for months…” Wooyoung looks away and sighs. “I wasn’t a good friend to you. I knew you were having a rough time, but I was really hard on you. I left you some pretty shitty voicemails. It was easier to be mad, to blame you, even if you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You were just looking out for him,” San says softly. “I don’t fault you for that.”
“I still want to apologize.”
“You don’t have to. I understand.”
“Yah, Choi San.” Wooyoung lightly smacks his arm. “Let me be sorry.”
Now there’s the Wooyoung he knows. “Young-ah. Honestly, I never even listened to your voicemails. I have no idea what you said.”
Wooyoung’s eyes go round. “Seriously?”
San hums.
Wooyoung groans. “Then I wouldn’t have even mentioned it. Don’t you dare go looking,” he adds when San giggles. “They’re not very nice.”
“I won’t. I swear.”
“Good.” Wooyoung gets up from the bed. He shuffles close, and San barely has time to react before he’s throwing two arms around San, nuzzling his face on top of San’s head, and San lets out a breath, wrapping his own arms around Wooyoung, too.
He missed this. He missed Wooyoung and his too-big heart, his all-encompassing hugs.
“I’m so sorry you’re hurting,” Wooyoung whispers, squeezing San tighter. He presses a kiss to the crown of San’s head. “But I’m always here for you, you know. Please don’t disappear on us again.”
San blinks back the tears threatening to gather behind his eyes. He knows. Wooyoung has never made him feel any less. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. I’m really glad you’re back.”
“Thank you for taking care of him.”
Wooyoung huffs. “Now why are you thanking me? Yeosangie’s mine, too, you know. That doesn’t change just because he’s carrying your pup.”
His voice wobbles just the slightest bit, though. San knows Wooyoung far too well not to catch the hint of insecurity. San frowns, pulling back from Wooyoung, intending to ask if he’s alright, but then—
“Are you two done?” a voice asks dryly.
San turns—and promptly feels his jaw go slack.
Oh.
Yeosang didn’t look very pregnant in the clothes he wore to dinner. His bump was there, of course, but Yeosang is naturally lean, and his sweater was oversized; it wasn’t very obvious at a first glance.
Now, though?
In a sleep shirt that’s definitely become a little too small, every new curve, from his chest to his belly to his hips is visible, prominent. The shirt’s hem rides up slightly, revealing strips of skin, and though it’s nothing San hasn’t seen before, he’s quickly reminded of just how much has changed since the last time they were in this room. The observation makes his cheeks feel warm. His treacherous mind’s first thought is still, he’s really beautiful like this.
Wooyoung definitely sees San’s reaction, because he snorts, elbowing San as he steps away from him. “Shut up, you hogged Sanie all day,” he says with no bite.
Yeosang rolls his eyes in amusement. If he notices anything, he doesn’t comment on it. He pads over to the nightstand and reaches for his vitamins.
“Did you oil your belly yet?”
Yeosang shakes his head. “I think I left the oil in your room.”
“I’ll do it for you, then,” Wooyoung says easily. “Let me go grab it.”
He says it like this is a daily routine for them. It probably is, San realizes with a jolt, watching how easily the omegas move around each other. When Yeosang is done with his vitamins, Yeosang gets into his nest and settles back against the pillows on his bed, as Wooyoung kneels between Yeosang’s legs and lifts his shirt. Wooyoung slowly rubs the oil along Yeosang’s tender belly and hips, taking care to be gentle, dutifully cooing when he feels the baby kick. San watches as Yeosang smiles. Yeosang holds Wooyoung’s arm and stares at the other omega fondly, gently brushing away Wooyoung’s hair whenever it falls into his face.
When he’s done, Wooyoung presses a kiss to Yeosang’s belly, then to his cheek; the gesture is so intimate San has to immediately glance away, feeling a flush rise on his face.
(San is no stranger to Yeosang and Wooyoung’s tendencies. He just wonders exactly how much closer they’ve gotten since the news of Yeosang’s pregnancy.)
“He’s all yours,” Wooyoung finally declares, giving San a pat on the shoulder. There’s a glint in his gaze that San can’t quite decipher, but Wooyoung is slipping out of the room before San can figure it out. “Come get me if you need anything!”
The door shuts closed.
Wooyoung’s scent still lingers—though, San muses, it never really left. Yeosang’s room always carries a hint of Wooyoung, just as Wooyoung’s room consistently smells like Yeosang.
“San-ah.”
San turns to see Yeosang’s tired smile.
“Come here,” he says.
“Oh.” San feels his cheeks grow warm again. He assumed he would be sleeping on the couch, like he normally does when he stays over—minus the last time. That was different, for obvious reasons.
But Yeosang is having none of that. He frowns when San doesn’t immediately move.
So San goes.
They end up with San lying half-upright on the bed, Yeosang’s head resting against San’s chest. Yeosang’s fluffy hair tickles San’s chin, and the curve of his belly is firm against San’s hip. San’s alpha is clearly pleased, because omega invited you into his nest, but San doesn’t think about that. He simply wraps both arms around Yeosang as he nuzzles closer. San kisses the crown of his head.
“How are you feeling?” San asks gently.
Yeosang hums. “Better.” He tilts his head up slightly, just enough for their gazes to meet. “I don’t know why I got so overwhelmed earlier.”
“You’re going through a lot. It’s okay.”
Yeosang’s fingers fiddle with the hem of San’s shirt. For a few minutes, neither of them speak, simply resting in the same position, their breathing syncing together as silence lapses between them.
And then—
“I was afraid you’d never come back.”
San exhales shakily. “I’m sorry. I would’ve come back sooner if I’d known.”
“You were grieving,” Yeosang whispers. “I get it.”
“I’ll make it up to you. I won’t leave anymore.”
Yeosang shifts to grip San’s shirt. His eyes flicker up to meet San’s once, before flickering away, the barest hint of vulnerability in his voice as he asks, “Do you really mean it?”
“I really do, I promise. I don’t…” San swallows. “I don’t know what I have to do to prove it, but I’ll do everything I can to take care of you and our pup. You can move in with me if you want. Or if you want to stay here with Wooyoungie, that’s fine, too. I can stay over. I can buy diapers, clothes, a crib, anything else we need.”
“Youngie technically already bought a crib,” Yeosang mumbles offhandedly. “It’s in his room. He said it would be easier so he could do the night feeds.” He instantly lifts his head, his eyes widening as his words catch up to him. “Um.”
“Then everything you haven’t bought,” San amends hastily, trying not to dwell on the fact that Yeosang and Wooyoung have been planning for far longer than San has even known. Of course they’re prepared. “I’ll support whatever plans you’ve already made.”
(Do they even really need him?)
Yeosang sits upright. He yawns, one hand automatically resting against his belly while the other rubs at his eyes. San shuffles to sit up as well, tracing Yeosang’s movements like a hawk.
“We can talk about it more later,” Yeosang says, “but thank you. I’ll think over the options.”
“Of course. Just… let me know?”
Yeosang hums. “I will.” His fingers tap steadily against his bump, almost like he’s counting something. San doesn’t realize he’s staring—again—until Yeosang murmurs, “You can touch, you know.”
San’s lips part. “I…”
“You’ve been wanting to. I can tell.”
San lets out a breath. He really wasn’t being subtle, then. He shifts closer, hesitantly hovering one hand against the gentle swell of Yeosang’s middle. He presses careful fingertips against Yeosang’s shirt—but a gasp escapes him when Yeosang grabs both his hands and slips them beneath the thin fabric, resting cold fingers against warm skin, easily letting San cradle his bump—their unborn pup.
“The baby is about the size of a cabbage now,” Yeosang says simply. His hands delicately curl around San’s smaller ones as he speaks.
San doesn’t dare to move. His heart stutters to a stop, and he lets out a disbelieved laugh as he processes the statement. “That’s huge. I don’t know how you’re doing this.”
“It’s not so bad. At least, not until I think about giving birth.”
“Still. You’re incredible. I’m really proud of you.”
Yeosang smiles softly.
For a few moments, it’s silent. Their hands don’t move; neither of them pull away.
Unintentionally, San’s gaze flickers to Yeosang’s lips.
Yeosang notices. Of course he does. His grip on San’s fingers tightens.
In San’s mind, Yeosang hasn’t been just a friend for a long, long time. Even prior to when they spent Yeosang’s heat together, somewhere along the years, San started feeling a different sort of pull towards Yeosang, even if he struggles to admit it. It’s a feeling San’s only felt one other time before, for only one other omega.
For Wooyoung.
That was before San realized just how close Yeosang and Wooyoung are, though. Before he told himself he didn’t have a chance with either of them. Before he’d resigned himself to pining from afar.
But now…
San couldn’t imagine how much would change until recently. Not until a few days ago, when he first learned of the news. More specifically, not until today, while seeing the grace with which Yeosang carries their pup, the fierce protectiveness with which Wooyoung tends to his best friend. The shared promise between them, the bond intertwining their omegas to one another.
He doesn’t really understand what he feels anymore.
That’s okay, though, San thinks to himself as Yeosang leans closer. He’s not leaving. Yeosang and Wooyoung are here; soon, their pup will be, too. San has all the time in the world to stay, to figure it out.
“San-ah,” Yeosang breathes, and at last, San tilts his head and slots their lips together.