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“What did I do to deserve this?”
That was the only thing Jongin said before heaving for the umpteenth time. After the nausea subsided, he was so drained and could do nothing but lean against the bathroom wall. He closed his eyes, taking in deep inhales of air, praying for his stomach to calm; regain some strength in his limbs.
“Don’t doze off here. You might get sick.”
Jongin wished to close his eyes longer, yet they traitorously opened upon hearing Sehun’s voice. He made conscious effort not to say anything, a little distrustful of his own mouth right now. Though the scent of sandalwood and Sehun’s soft voice were a huge relief, previous events held Jongin back from openly showing it.
The silence in the bathroom was stifling; endless. It ended with the sound of gushing water and the whisper of footfalls. Sehun sat down in front of Jongin, raising the damp washcloth. Jongin leaned forward with herculean effort, surprised but also allowed himself a little joy when Sehun moved closer to gingerly dab at the corners of his mouth. Half an arm’s length of distance still existed between them; but if Sehun allowed this much contact, then Jongin wouldn’t complain.
“Should I book an appointment with your obstetrician?” Sehun’s voice was soft and underscored with kindness. His face revealed nothing, though concern shimmered in his eyes.
Jongin shook his head. “I just need to lie down. The nausea is exhausting. I’m also starving. I feel gross. I’m miserable.” He couldn’t help whining out the last word. Despair settled in his chest, an uncomfortable, uninvited guest. Just like with the myriad of other emotions that took turns striking and muddling his rationale. “I wanted a baby, but I might have overestimated myself. I knew it would be hard. I didn’t think it would be this hard.”
Sehun gave him a sympathetic look; offered to help him stand. Jongin eagerly accepted, relishing the heat of Sehun’s body. The usual seconds-long walk from the bathroom to the bed felt like an hour-long parade with tiredness and hunger warring for attention.
“You didn’t eat what triggered your nausea last time. So, why…?” Sehun listed his head, contemplative. He drew the covers up to Jongin’s shoulders; adjusted the air conditioning after his tiny complaint about the cold. “I’ll prepare something you’ll hopefully keep down.”
Jongin nodded. “Please.”
Sehun seemed to hesitate on his next move. Jongin noticed his clenched fist; decided for him by motioning toward his abdomen and smiled in assurance.
Emotion crumpled Sehun’s blank face. His palm was a welcome warmth on Jongin’s middle and further diffused the tension. “Baby, be good to Daddy. You’re so tiny, but you’re such a troublemaker already.” His tone was light and teasing.
Jongin laughed, despite himself. “I wonder who our baby takes it from?”
“Excuse you, I was a very obedient child,” Sehun answered, faking affront. Jongin shot him a slanted look. “...Fine, I will admit my primary school teachers often commented I was a bit too energetic.”
Once alone and comfortable in bed, Jongin’s lightheadedness gradually ebbed. He wondered, with a smidgeon of impatience, what was taking Sehun so long. Reminded himself to fix things.
Sehun returned before Jongin could sink further into restlessness and overthinking. The aroma of sesame ramen reached his nose; waited cautiously for the nausea to rise up his throat. His body began rejecting a lot of food lately. Finding safe options proved to be challenging. Most days, Sehun needed to coax him into trying one bite; asked what he wanted. Most days, Jongin couldn’t provide a concrete answer. He didn’t know what was appetizing unless it was in front of him. There was no guarantee he wouldn’t hurl it out later, either.
Today wasn’t one of those days. Breathing in the sesame ramen appeared to come with magical effects. Suddenly, Jongin gained enough strength to sit and eat. He normally didn’t eat ramen but tolerated this after discovering his stomach didn’t despise it. Sehun was initially against his consumption of it, though came to understand this was a period Jongin ate more for survival than nutritional value.
“Slow down,” Sehun cautioned, handing Jongin a napkin. “You might scald your tongue.”
“Can’t I even eat the way I want?” Jongin snapped. Immediate horror slammed into him at Sehun’s slight raise of eyebrows; the realization of how cross he sounded. He readied himself for a scolding, a scathing remark.
Sehun delivered neither. “Oh, Jongin; this has been really hard for you, hasn’t it?” His tone was so tender, so understanding—a complete turnabout from his earlier cold shoulder and severe frown—that it made Jongin tear up. His eyes widened, alarmed. “No, please—don’t cry.”
Too late. “How could I not? I don’t even understand myself most of the time now!” Jongin griped, hastily swiping at his tears. Mood swings certainly came with carrying. It didn’t mean he liked the nastiness that sprung unbidden from the rapid changing of hormones. “I haven’t even apologized for upsetting you earlier today. I’m sorry.” Remembering worsened the waterworks. “What if I say something that will hurt you deeply? I’m scared.”
“We can be scared together.” The calmness of Sehun’s voice cut through Jongin’s current turmoil. He brushed away the tears, waited for Jongin’s sobbing to cease. “I can’t promise you I won’t get hurt. Sometimes I’m unsure how you’ll react. But I’ll endure for as long as I can.”
“Hold me accountable, too. Don’t be scared to do it.”
Sehun nodded. “I’ll find a way to handle your mood swings better.” He held Jongin’s hands and squeezed, infinitely comforting. “We’ll navigate this journey together, okay? We made this child together. The nausea and mood swings might be hard now, but you won’t suffer alone. I won’t let you.”
“You’re such a sap.” Jongin grinned when Sehun interpreted his joke correctly, the amused-sounding chuckle a giveaway. He readily fell into Sehun’s arms for a hug—assured, grateful. “But your sappiness makes things marginally better.”