Chapter Text
The silence of the new apartment was deafening.
No soft song playing. No Sakusa flipping a page. No soft hum from the washer. Just Atsumu and the echo of what had been.
He curled tighter around his stomach. 8 weeks along. Still so small.
He was overthinking it, there could be no other way. So what if he vomited every morning and felt nauseous, so what if he suddenly had gotten weird food cravings. It means nothing.
Still, it wouldn’t hurt to just…take the tests, right? He already knew the answer after all, at least he thought he knew.
His hands trembled as he held the test, eyes already misting over.
The second one felt heavier. Final.
Two lines.
He stared at them like they might start laughing at him, and they would because this is all just a nightmare he needs to wake up from.
It’s just a nightmare, everything is fine.
Atsumu pauses for a second and looks down at the two tests he’s holding. Both positive.
Screw that. Everything is not fine.
Then, he simply wrapped them in toilet paper and shoved them into the bin. Maybe everything would be fine, if it didn’t exist, if there was no trace of it.
Out of sight, out of mind.
That’s what he was hoping for.
Inhale for 2 seconds. Exhale for 4. Repeat.
Who was he fooling.
Pregnant. He was pregnant.
He could do whatever he wanted and that fact would remain, it wouldn't vanish because he hid it, because he destroyed it. Yet he did anyway, if only to give himself that false delusion, the false hope of it never having existed.
It didn't feel like home. The shadows on the walls moved in unfamiliar shapes, not like home — or at least what home had been. Atsumu stood at the entrance, gazing upon his new place, his new beginning. He had never felt so alone — not when he moved out to live alone. Not when he fought with 'Samu. But now, the silence hit different. It hit with the fact he was carrying life.
And the father didn't want them.
He walked further into his new apartment until he reached the kitchen. His hand trailed everything he passed.
The kitchen: the place where he tested the waters.
Despite not being as good of a chef as Osamu, the kitchen was still his favorite place — third only to Onigiri Miya and on the court. Their kitchen was illuminative, big windows letting the light and warmth in like a soft blanket. It felt majestic; their little kitchen decorated in all sorts of plants Atsumu had gotten over the years, sitting neatly in front of the windows and on the countertops, a few even hanging from the ceiling. It was his safe space.
Atsumu was cooking up a simple dish while Omi was folding laundry. Their usual domestic life. They worked in a silence Atsumu had grown to appreciate until he spoke up — trying to sound as casual as he could.
"Say, Omi-omi, ever thought about havin' kids?" Atsumu made sure his back was turned to Omi as he spoke. He calmed his nerves by repeating the chopping motions on poor onions, cutting them too small. It gave him cover — he could hide from Omi, not face him for this conversation, but in return he couldn't read him either.
"No, not really."
That’s fine. Not having thought about it isn’t a big deal, it doesn’t mean he doesn't want them.
“Would ya want to have ‘em?” Oh, how his voice threatened to tremble but he managed to hold it back.
“No.”
A pang resounded in his heart. He doesn’t want kids — doesn't want my kids…?
"Even if they were yers and all, with someone ya love?" Now his voice did waver and he glanced back sneakily to see Omi’s face.
“I suppose. I mean, if the situation made sense.” Omi's eyes flickered up for a second in confusion before he got back to his task.
Atsumu laughed too fast, too light. “Yeah. Like, if it wasn’t a surprise or somethin’. Bet you’d hate that.”
Please say no, please Omi. Don’t do this to me.
Sakusa looked up, slow and flat. “You mean an accident?”
Atsumu shrugged, still chopping. “Yeah.”
“I don’t do accidents.”
Atsumu dreaded unpacking for numerous reasons, still, it had been 5 days already with only taking out the essentials. He didn't want to be reminded of him, of his love.
And so, he steeled himself and got to work. All the things that reminded him, that were like a stab to the heart, he stored in a box and hid in a closet. Well, nearly all of it. He came across a picture, his favourite. It was taken on their first anniversary in Onigiri Miya. A tear fell down but he ignored it in favor of storing the picture in his nightstand. He continued, tried acting as if nothing was wrong, again. Telling lies, putting up a front only for himself. He hated feeling weak, having been hurt — it was embarrassing for no obvious reason yet he still felt that way.
The second item he came across that he couldn't part with, was a sweater he had stolen from Sakusa.
Atsumu had found comfort in Sakusa’s scent — unnatural comfort. As a beta, he didn’t feel things like this, didn't need the scent, yet now he craved it.
His body had shifted, reacted to it in ways he hadn’t understood at the time. Changed for it. Adapted to Sakusa's pheromones. And then had been abandoned by them, a fact his body still hadn’t accepted. He still wanted it, even with the pang of hurt and sadness that came along in his heart.
He hadn't told 'Samu yet. Or Ma. Or anyone, really. It was still too fresh, still something he hadn't completely processed, still not ready to talk about the what now?’s. For that same reason his phone has been off for the past couple of days.
Atsumu was a beta, that was a fact. He'd never thought about having kids — he did, but not in the way of bringing them into the world himself. He hadn't even known it was possible, and it seems Sakusa had thought the same. A bitter thought.
Atsumu sat in the clinic, waiting. Feet bouncing and anxiety rising.
A woman entered the room holding a clipboard. She looked up and called out "Miya Atsumu?"
Atsumu shot up, startling the poor woman. He followed her to a room where he was made to enter and sit down.
"The doctor will soon be with you." With that she turned around and left, leaving him to his thoughts. He still couldn't believe he was pregnant. Just how? How was it possible? He wasn't an omega nor was he a woman, obviously, so how in the world did he get pregnant? Maybe he wasn't actually pregnant. Maybe the tests made a mistake — or maybe it showed he was pregnant because of other problems. Right, he probably wasn't actually pregnant. He has heard of cases where they weren’t pregnant but actually had cancer, was it wrong to think he hoped it was that?
He soon learned his hopes did not come true. He stared at the ultrasound, tuning out the doctor. On the screen 2 small blotches were visible — identical twins, the doctor had explained.
He didn't remember how, but he came to again sitting across from the doctor. She was an old lady, presumably a beta. The kind that brings comfort. ‘doctor Keiko Matsuda’ her name read on her lanyard. She was going on about things he didn't care to listen to and interrupted her.
"How-" He swallowed hard, "How is this possible?"
The doctor didn't mind the interruption and calmly answered. "It's called Pheromonal Reconfiguration. When a male beta, or even an alpha, gets exposed to strong alpha pheromones, both in and out of the body, it is possible your body adapts, or changes."
"That’s not— I don’t even have—" Atsumu choked on the sentence.
"You didn’t. But the scans are clear. A uterus developed in response to prolonged pheromonal exposure. It’s rare. But not impossible. The uterus is attached near the rectal canal. It’s temporary, but viable — at least for now."
Atsumu kept silent at that and the doctor continued in her soft and comforting voice, sensing his hesitancy and dread. "It will be a difficult pregnancy, especially with twins. Your body wasn't originally made for this and complications are likely to rise. No one would blame you if you choose to give them up." Her warm and gentle tone nearly brought him to tears. What was he to do now?
He thought about it for a moment, really thought about it and shook his head. "I can't," his voice came out strained. He put his 2 hands flat against his stomach. "These are my babies." His voice shook.
He was pregnant with twins. It ran in the family, didn't it? He had tried thinking about aborting them, really, but he simply couldn't. These were his babies — his, and his alone.
His hands went back to resting on his stomach again, nothing was visible yet, but it brought out comfort. A small smile made its way across his face. Amongst all abnormalities, all heartbreak, he had his kids to be the light at the end of the tunnel. He needed to stay positive, if only for them.
And so he again started working on making his apartment home. By the end he felt both satisfied and desperate. No matter what he added, or changed, something was missing — no, someone was missing. And that thought brought him to tears, never letting them fall. He was stronger than that. He could do this alone.