Chapter Text
Sasaki Nobuko hates a lot of things. Dirty people, cars that are much too loud, crowds, children that are too rambunctious and people who swear too much. Spicy food, shoes that don’t fit right, crop tops.
She’s very good at hating things.
More than anything, though, she hates that single, taunting blue line on the screen of the pregnancy test. She loathes it.
It’s the eighth test in six months. Every single one— beyond the one she took two months ago that gave her a false positive, giving her momentary hope only to snatch it cruelly away— has
come out negative.
Negative, negative, negative. Not pregnant, not even a little bit, not even for a minute .
It's frustrating and painful. She wants a baby, badly, and it's not fair that the one thing her body was made to do won't happen to her.
Isn't getting pregnant supposed to be easy?
Her own mother warned her never to have pre-marital sex, because 'it only took once', and with all the ads promoting teen pregnancy and the use of condoms, it made it all seem so easy . A heat spent with her husband, locked in bed together, and a few weeks later she'd be staring at two, positive lines.
Except that's not what's happening at all. Two heats, sex a dozen times between heats— Osamu is oddly disinterested in sex for an Alpha, and rarely knots her outside of heats at all— and still nothing.
It's not fair .
Sasaki has always been exceptional. Excellent grades in school, perfect manners and attitude, always upholding the family honor. Never being disgraceful, and always being a presentable Omega.
Except now she can't do this one simple thing. Something that is intrinsic to her secondary gender, and she can't do it, and she doesn't know why. There’s no answers, no reasons , just—
Negative, negative, negative. Dozens of negative tests.
Outside of the bathroom, there's the sound of the front door to the penthouse opening and closing. The brief jingle of keys, the slight scuffle of shoes being kicked off.
"I'm home," Osamu calls into the house, voice flat. He doesn't sound excited to be home, but then again, he never does. She's pretty sure she's never seen that man excited about anything.
Sighing in frustration, she tosses the negative test in the trash. She doesn't want to look at it anymore, doesn't want to be reminded of how much of a failure her own biology is. She makes sure to wash her hands and clean up the tears lingering at the corner of her eyes before she leaves, heading into the main living room.
Osamu is there, shrugging off his suit jacket and draping it over the side of the couch.
He's impeccably dressed, like he always is. Form-fitting shirt that hints at the lovely muscle underneath, straining ever so slightly over his broad shoulders. Slacks that emphasize how trim his waist is, how long his legs are. An expensive silver watch on his wrist, a tie clip in a matching shade that keeps his sleek black tie in place.
His hair is slicked back today, every strand perfectly in place, exposing his forehead. The bandages—the annoying things she hates but no amount of talking will convince him to get rid of— peek over the collar of his shirt and underneath the cuffs of the sleeves.
Drawn in by the image he makes, casually and effortlessly attractive and powerful, wealth displayed in every line of his body, Sasaki comes closer.
When he hears her approaching, Osamu’s head tilts, then turns to look at her. There's only the slightest response to her presence, his face softening into a welcoming smile. It's the most she gets out of him, and based on how stoic the man is, probably the most reactive he is to someone in general.
Reaching for his tie, she tugs him down for a kiss on the cheek. He smells like whiskey, and she abhors the taste on her tongue, so she refuses to kiss him properly until he's brushed his teeth and used the mouthwash.
That's the only thing he smells of, though, except for the dull, almost-muddy smell of the scent blockers he habitually wears. It's a scent she's unfortunately used to— whiskey and cigars and scent blockers— because she's never seen Osamu go anywhere without his blockers. Not even in their own home.
The only time she can really smell him is in the shower, and even then he turns on the fan so all the steam is sucked away quickly.
She wouldn’t have pegged Dazai as the type to be insecure or embarrassed, especially considering how exemplary he is in every other aspect of his life—
But she supposes everyone has their flaws.
“How was work?” She asks, straightening his tie again when he straightens back up. He’s so tall, it’s delicious.
Shrugging slightly, he answers, “Alright. The new secretary mixed up my meetings, but other than that, everything went smoothly.”
Sasaki scowls. That’s the third time she’s heard about this new secretary. Young, fresh out of college, an Omega , someone who clearly is looking to skip up the ranks by getting the attention of the higher ranking employees or bosses.
Clearly, even negative attention is still attention, because how can it be so hard to keep one man’s schedule in line? Sure, Osamu is the CEO of Mori Corporations and thus a very busy man, but still.
“That girl is very unprofessional,” she sniffs, watching Osamu as he moves into the kitchen and reaches for the liquor cabinet. She’s been trying to break that drinking habit he has. She doesn’t like the worn, exhausted look he gets in his eyes when he’s a drink or two in, shoulders bowing under the weight of his own body.
An Alpha of his caliber— rich, powerful, smart, privileged— has no right looking so...
Weak.
Besides, she’s pretty sure that drinking can cause impotency, and since she’s had no health issues to speak of, it shouldn’t be her fault she can’t get pregnant.
And if it’s not her fault, then there must be something wrong with him.
“She’s only been with the company for two weeks, Nobuko. She’ll learn,” Osamu says, pouring himself a large glass. He doesn’t put away the bottle when he’s done, a sign that he’s going to drink more.
It’s the weekend, so Sasaki can excuse it this one time without saying anything.
“That’s exactly my point. Only two weeks, and didn’t she already file for heat leave?” It’s unprofessional to ask for time off so quickly after being hired. Sure, heats can’t exactly be controlled, but there are things like suppressants to push them back for a while. There’s even teas that are said to regulate estrus cycles, so there’s no excuse beyond sheer laziness .
“Well, yes, but she filed a week before company policy, so she did everything correctly. I can’t expect her to work through it or use suppressants just because she’s new. Heat leave is a company policy for a reason,” Osamu says into his drink, leaning back against the kitchen counter.
She stifles an aggravated sigh, not wanting to start an argument. Osamu is always irritable when he gets off of work for the weekend, and she’s hoping to have a little fun in bed later.
After all, it doesn’t hurt to try again, right?
“Did something happen?” Her husband asks, setting down his cup so he can start to remove his cufflinks. It's a subtle, attractive action, the trappings of wealth being stripped away, undressing. "You seem... upset."
That's one of the things Sasaki adores about Osamu. He's always been perceptive for an Alpha, never needing to be spoon-fed information or given long conversations to understand how and what she's feeling. It makes her feel listened to, paid attention to.
"Yes," she sighs, stepping gracefully around the edge of the kitchen island. With her manicured fingers, she finds the cuff of Osamu's other sleeve and slowly begins rolling it up, making sure every fold is exactly the same length as the fold before.
Osamu lets her, eyes guarded. He's always disliked people touching his wrists, and the layers of bandages are thicker here— which she's grateful for, because the scars are unsightly and feel uneven under her fingertips— but he allows her to roll his sleeve all the way up to the end of his forearm.
"The test was negative," she mutters, feeling a pulse of shame. They've been through this so many times, and it never gets any easier. She never stops feeling that invasive feeling of shame , of inadequacy.
Her father is an Alpha in his prime, rich and on top of the world. Her mother is a well-bred Omega, and Sasaki is their only child, the heir to their legacies. She was practically picked out to be Osamu's wife as soon as she presented at seventeen, to combine their families businesses and fortunes in a much deeper, more meaningful manner than just contracts.
She's perfect, in every way. She's never had to deal with the sensation of being defective before, and she doesn't know how to handle it.
"I'm sorry," Osamu murmurs, fingers ghosting over her elbow, achingly soft. "That must be very upsetting."
That's another thing that bothers her. Having a baby was her idea, but it seems to be only something sh e wants. Osamu doesn't ask about the tests until she brings it up, rarely— if ever— initiates sex on his own, never seems to be upset when the tests once again come back negative, never sends her any baby-related pictures like she does to him.
She gets it, in a sense, because he's a hardworking businessman, and he never expressed personal desire for children but—
He has an entire business. Employees that admire him, a company that needs him to run smoothly. An entire network of people that he has responsibility for, and an even larger network of people that he needs to interact with on a daily basis.
She has nothing except a big penthouse that is often terribly empty, and a husband with about as much life as a dying man.
She doesn't want to be alone anymore, wants someone to give all her love and attention to. A little Omega, hopefully, that she can raise and groom to be the perfect little Omega, prim and proper and perfect. Like her mother did with her.
She wants it.
"Yes," she sighs again, pulling her hands back. She wants a drink, but she’s not willing to sacrifice even a sliver of her chance of getting pregnant with some alcohol. “We’ll have to go to the doctor, see if there’s a reason for it.”
Dazai downs his drink, pours himself another one. “Okay,” he agrees, “Just let me know when the appointment is. I’ll be there.”
One of the perks of Osamu’s job is excellent health insurance, so she’s sure that she can get them an appointment for them both within a week or so. In the meantime, though...
She wraps her fingers around his tie again, pulling him down. “Why don’t we try again?” She purrs, sliding her other hand down and palming his crotch.
He’s soft, damn alcohol, but she can tempt him enough, with a little work. She’s found that sex is more of a process than she was expecting it to be. It’s not something they just fall into, like all the movies and books make it seem.
Osamu frowns slightly, looking like he might protest, but she tugs on the tie again. “I need a distraction, and you need to celebrate working so hard this week.”
That seems to convince him, because after another long moment, he’s turning his head to kiss her. It’s deep, tongue sliding against her own, and when his hand slides into her panties, she gasps with delight. He’s got talented hands that drive her up to the peak almost ridiculously fast.
(And with nails in his back and the sound of his given name being cried out into the empty penthouse, Dazai tries to forget that he somehow manages to wake up every day feeling even emptier than the day before.)
Six days later finds them both in a gynecologist’s office, seated and waiting for the doctor to enter the room.
Osamu has a cup of coffee in his hands, mostly holding it. Sasaki tried to talk him out of it, because she’s cut down on caffeine ever since they started trying, and it’s not fair that he gets to drink his coffee. That’s probably the reason why they’re struggling anyways, because Osamu refuses to follow her advice. He always scoffs at the articles she tells him about and never reads them on his own.
She drinks her own tea—decaf, obviously— with an irritated air.
The doctor’s office is clean and cold, almost sterile. It has a nice smell to it, lightly floral, and a fan in the ceiling constantly circulates air so it never gets stale. Even the chairs are soft and plush, comfortable enough to sit in for hours.
Nerves and anxiety are thrumming through her, putting Sasaki on edge. Going to the doctor always feels like she has to prepare herself for bad news, even if she’s always been in perfect health.
Hopefully today she will be too, and the problem will just be something small like her diet or not trying enough.
She crosses her legs impatiently, pleasantly sore.
The app she’s using to track her heats said that she was ovulating over the last three days, which means it was the perfect time to try again. Osamu even knotted her last night, and even if it was awkward , sprawled out on the kitchen island while they waited the meager ten minutes for his knot to go down, she’ll suffer any embarrassment or weirdness to get her baby.
There’s a polite knock on the door, and moments later the door opens to reveal the gynecologist.
He’s a male Alpha, tall and silver haired. His lab coat is stretched broadly across his shoulders, and he has an imposing presence, even with the slight smile on his face.
Sasaki wrinkles her nose, hiding her expression in her tea. She'd asked for an Omega gynecologist on the phone, because there was just no way she could trust an Alpha to do the job correctly or empathize with the situation.
But her preferred doctor is on heat leave, and the other Omega gynecologist's weren't available so quickly, so sacrifices had to be made.
"Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs... Dazai," the doctor greets, heading for the chair on the other side of the desk. He drops in gracefully, a medical file gripped in one of his hands. Even though he's wearing scent blockers, the polite thing to do in public, his eyes have that hint of alpha-red in them, glinting under the harsh lighting.
His friendly smile is sharp. "What can I help you with today?"
Sasaki puts her tea down, speaking up before Osamu can. "I— we — seem to be having trouble getting pregnant. We're hoping you can help us find out why."
Osamu finally takes a sip of his coffee, oddly placid. He's been quiet all morning. Quiet since last night, really, though he hasn’t mentioned any reason as to why.
"Alright," the man says, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands together over his stomach. "I'm Dr. Andre Gide, by the way. Do either of you have any previous medical history that would inhibit reproduction?"
She shakes her head. "No, I've always been perfectly healthy. Hardly ever a bruise or a cold. Never even broken a bone."
Gide's eyes flick to Osamu to her left.
"I've been diagnosed with clinical depression," Osamu offers, shrugging lightly like it doesn't matter. He takes another sip of his coffee after, saving himself further explanation.
The doctor tilts his head, taking that information in. "Are you medicated?"
"Oh, goodness, no," Sasaki gasps, pressing one hand to her chest in offense, "Everyone knows those placebo pills do nothing but wreak havoc on the body. I've been doing a lot of research on natural cures, and I have to say they're working wonderfully. Osamu has never been more productive! He’s feeling better than ever."
Gide looks at her, looks at Osamu, raising one of his white eyebrows in an expression that just barely conceals disbelief.
Osamu smiles thinly.
"Though, I think you should know that Osamu had an incident with... taking quite a few more pills than he needed to. Do you think that could've caused a problem? What was it that you took, honey?"
Sasaki turns her head, looking at her husband over her shoulder.
He looks briefly furious, before his expression wipes clean again, eyes once again distant. Through his teeth, he asks Gide, "Does that matter?"
"No," the doctor says sharply, sitting up straight. "It's unlikely something like... that could cause an issue like this, and even if it did, there's no need to discuss it like that."
Sasaki disagrees, because she's pretty sure she read somewhere that pain pills can decrease sperm count, but she can't press the issue before the doctor is moving on.
"I'm more interested in you, Ms. Dazai," Gide says, picking up a pen and twirling it in his fingers, "What are your heats like? How often do you get them, and how long do they last?"
Sasaki shrugs lightly. "About every six months or so. I'm slightly irregular, but that runs in my family. They last about two days, and then fade out pretty quickly."
All things considered, she's always had easy heats. A bit intense on the first day, but the second day is enjoyable, and it never lasts so long she gets tired of it. She's heard of some Omega's that have heats for a week, or have their cycle every eight weeks like clockwork. Every estrus cycle is unique, but she thinks she got the better end of the deal.
"You two spend it together successfully?"
Sasaki nods. It's not the feral, animalistic mating that the romance novels or porn videos would have her believe, but it's satisfying. Osamu takes care of her every need, and she's never left wanting. The sweat and sex and prolonged knots are slightly gross, especially when she’s further along in her heat, but not everything can be perfect.
She tilts her head, frowning, as a thought occurs to her. "Do you think it's because we aren't mated? I always figured that the infrequent knotting was because of that..."
Gide shakes his head, flipping open the folder he has on the desk. "Neither of those things are necessary in procreation. It's helpful, yes, but not needed."
Well, now he's making it seem like there's not a reason for the struggle of getting pregnant. Gide hasn't pounced on any piece of information that he's been given, so it just seems like there's no reason for it.
"Well, seeing as neither of you are on medications, you're both in good health and young, the next step is to administer some tests. Do you have time today, or would you like to reschedule for another day?"
"Today," Sasaki says, joined faintly by Osamu just to her left. It seems both of them want to get this ordeal over with as quickly as possible. Coming to the gynecologist once was
embarrassing enough, she doesn't want to do it again.
Plus, all her Omega friends are already gossiping about her having to go once, and they'll just be all atwitter until she gives them some answers.
"Lovely," Gide says, standing up and adjusting his lab coat to lay nicely over his front. "Ms. Dazai, you can come with me. Mr. Dazai, an assistant of mine will be coming to retrieve you shortly."
Sasaki stands up, wincing slightly when her sore thighs take her weight again. Still, she doesn't wobble once on her elegant, tall heels as she follows the doctor out of the room and down the hall.
"What kind of tests will we be running?" Sasaki asks, struggling to keep up with Gide's brisk pace through the white, sterile halls of the hospital. He’s not being considerate to her shorter legs or tall shoes at all, almost to the point where it seems rude .
"Unfortunately, your husband gets to have the fun procedure, and essentially has to ejaculate into a cup so we can test for sperm count. As for you, today we'll be doing some basic x-rays to make sure your reproductive systems are normal. If the tests come back good, then we'll move onto the next step. Testing for hormone levels, scarring, normal ovulation. Those sort of things," Gide answers, ushering her into one of the rooms on the side.
This room is even colder, making her shiver as she steps in, and dark. There's a huge machine taking up most of the room, with an arm that extends out over the table centered in the middle.
"Pants off, keep the underwear on. Here's a sheet to cover up with, and when you're ready, go ahead and lay on the table."
Thankfully, he disappears into a booth in the far side of the room, hidden behind a darkened panel. She stares for a moment, making sure he’s not secretly watching her before she starts to wiggle out of her tight skirt.
The x-ray’s are... only slightly awkward. It’s better than having an ultrasound wand pushed inside her, but Gide is not very receptive to small talk as he lays a weighted pad on different parts of her body as he rotates the machine above her and disappears to take the photos.
Alphas always get all the fun, she grumbles to herself, envisioning Osamu off in his own private room, indulgently masturbating while she gets examined under a microscope.
(Dazai is, in fact, not having that great of a time. There’s really not a lot of enjoyment to be had in jerking off into a sterile cup— which is a much harder task than you’d think it is, and he’s half-afraid he’s going embarrass himself by getting cum all over the table— like a lab experiment. Not to mention that he’s felt terrible all morning, nearly sick with numb hollowness, and it wasn’t helped by Sasaki mentioning the time he—
He’s just not really into it, to be honest, and it takes quite a bit of concentration to get hard and keep himself hard when all he wants to do is sleep. )
When she’s done, Gide lets her get dressed in private again before leading her back into the room they started out in.
Osamu isn’t there, but he left his mostly-untouched coffee cup, and she takes this opportunity to throw it into the trash. She’ll just blame it on one of the nurses if he asks.
It’s a silent, awkward ten minutes of waiting alone before Osamu is slinking back into the room. He looks around for his coffee and when he sees it in the trash, he lets out a deep sigh.
Good. Now he knows exactly how she feels, when she gave up caffeine all those months ago.
Osamu drops into the chair beside her again, pulling out his phone. He looks like he’s answering work emails, frowning at the screen. He did take the day off for the appointment, so Sasaki lets him be. He also has this frigid air, like he’s upset about something.
It must be something at work, because she can’t think of any reason why he would be upset that she was so concerned about his health. Her health, too. It’s not wrong to want him to try remedies that don’t include putting toxic, harmful chemicals in his body. Really, she’s heard so many harmful side effects of medication— blood clots, weight gain, mood changes, sleep schedule changes. She doesn’t want him to have any dangerous side effects, and she doesn’t want to risk being affected herself.
Things like sunshine and remedy teas don’t have any side effects. She’s just looking out for him! For them both, like a good wife.
When Gide comes back, about fifteen minutes after Osamu returns, he has another folder in hand. This one with a seal on it, and slightly thicker than the files he came in with in the beginning.
His expression is professionally blank, with just a hint of empathy and compassion.
Like he’s got bad news. Anxiety spikes again, her stomach turning. She takes another sip of her tea, wishing it was a soothing chamomile, to cover it up.
Her free hand reaches over, finding one of Osamu’s hands and squeezing it tightly. They’re in this together, she just has to remember that. Whatever it is, whatever is wrong, she’ll have support and help. So will Osamu.
With a slight sigh, Gide sinks into the chair opposite them again. He sits up straight this time, the perfect picture of professional healthcare as he sets the folder down carefully and folds his hands together.
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Mrs. Dazai, but due to an abnormally formed uterus which has caused blockages in your Fallopian tubes and narrowing of your cervix, it is quite likely that you are infertile.”
What?
That—
That doesn't make any sense. She's done everything right, takes her daily vitamins and gets her daily exercise. Eats all the right foods, meditates, everything she needs to do to be healthy.
What happened? Why is this happening to her? This isn't fair, this isn't what is supposed to happen. This is supposed to be something that happened to bad people, to people who too lazy take care of themselves, not—
Not to someone like her. Not to someone who has worked so hard to be the perfect, upstanding Omega and the perfect wife. Not someone who wanted a child so badly.
Osamu's fingers twitch in her grip, squeezing her hand lightly. Her hand aches with how hard she's squeezing.
Neither of them are staring at her, but they're just waiting awkwardly and silently as she processes the information. Their breathing is too loud and too even, clearly unaffected while she feels like her entire future is falling apart.
She had it all planned out. Her entire future in a nice, easy-to-follow timeline.
An easy pregnancy, supported by her husband and by the best healthcare that money can buy. A nursery in blues and greens— strong colors—, nursing. Cuddled up in bed with a newborn, watching them grow into a toddler, a small child. Sending them off to school, celebrating her freedom when she doesn't have a small child to look over constantly again. Going to Judo classes, math tutoring, birthday sleepovers. Teaching her little Omega how to be perfect , or watching a little Alpha follow in Osamu's footsteps.
It was all supposed to be hers . The only thing she made, all by herself, the only thing that was hers alone.
"I—,” she swallows hard, not even knowing what to say or where to begin or what to feel beyond grief and anger at the unfairness of it all . "Is there anything we can do? Is there— is there a chance?"
Gide's mouth tips into a sympathetic smile. "Unfortunately, because this is an anatomical problem, the only way to fix that would be something like reconstruction, but that's just not possible. Even if you did want to try that route, it's likely that wouldn't solve the problem. And yes, there is a chance that you could still get pregnant, but it's very small, and likely would take a very long time, lots of trying, and even more luck. You would need a miracle, essentially."
Sasaki lets out a shuddering sigh, thoughts buzzing. She doesn't know what to say or what to think or what to feel . "So I'm...infertile?"
"In my professional medical opinion, yes."
Oh god.
It doesn't feel real. It doesn't make any sense, and no matter how hard she tries to wrap her mind around the idea and understand, she just—
She just doesn't understand how her entire future, her entire 5-10-20 year plans could so easily go up into smoke with one test. With one conversation. Everything is gone, just like that.
"Do you have any questions?"
Fighting back tears, unwilling to cry in a public place like this, Sasaki shakes her head. She wants to go home, wants to curl up in her nest and wallow in misery. She wants a second opinion, wants to go back to the way everything was before. Wants this conversation to be over .
"Alright," Gide says, sliding a few pieces of paper over the desk in their direction, "If either of you come up with any questions, don't hesitate to call. Here's a few therapists and classes you can check into, to help you process something like this."
With numb fingers, she reaches out with her free hand and takes the brochures, clutching them to her chest. She doesn't read them, not yet, because if she even reads anything about 'support' or 'counselling' she's going to lose it.
Something occurs to her then, right as Osamu is standing up and coaxing her out of her seat.
“How am I going to have children? How are we going to have children? What are our options?” She asks, fixing Gide with a desperate look. She doesn’t feel so stable on her heels now, leaning heavily against her husband for support.
The gynecologist shrugs, shuffling the papers on his desk back together. “There’s always adoption, or surrogacy. That’s not exactly my area of expertise, but I could set you up with someone I know if surrogacy is something you’re interested in.”
So she can never have her own child. It will always be someone else’s child, in some way, shape or form.
That hits her hard, probably the hardest hit of all so far.
She nods, feeling horribly blank with grief, and lets Osamu lead her out of the doctors office and back to where they parked the car.
She barely remembers the walk back, mind whirling-empty. It feels like she’s stuck in the past, stuck in fifteen minutes ago, reliving the news over and over and over again, struggling to process or even breathe past the information.
It’s only when the car starts moving, Osamu calm and confident behind the wheel that she realizes how quiet he is. How quiet he’s been during the entire appointment and especially since they got the news.
That—
That pisses her off. Why doesn’t he have anything to say? No ‘sorry’s’, no support, no comfort, no words of encouragement, nothing. He just drives, silent and solemn, letting her stew in her own emotions. Letting her deal with this on her own.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” She mumbles, crossing her arms over her chest and curling around them. Something inside her feels emptier than ever before.
Broken. Defective. Wrong. Barren.
“I don’t know what to say,” is his response, quiet. “Nothing I say will make this easier for you.”
That’s true but it’s also a shitty excuse. Just because he can’t fix things doesn’t mean he doesn’t need to try. Doesn’t mean he can just sit there in silence and think he’s in the right.
Besides, Osamu only gets quiet when he’s upset. The cold shoulder is always his preferred method of avoidance and anger.
“Are you mad at me?” She asks, seething with self-hatred and anger and confusion. “Or are you just avoiding the conversation?”
His hands tighten briefly on the wheel. “I didn’t say that.”
He didn’t not say it either, though. He’s spent the whole day in this quiet haze, like he can’t even be bothered to show interest in her health or their future children.
“Look,” he sighs before she can bite anything else out, giving her hand a squeeze, “I’ll help you with however you want to go forward with this, okay? He said there were options, and if it’s something you really want, then we’ll work on it. Together.”
There. That’s what a husband is supposed to say, that is real support. She clings onto his hand, sniffing back tears.
“And I’m not mad, alright? I wasn’t sure what to say, and I just— it doesn’t matter,” he finishes, voice dropping into something pitiful and quiet.
(Nothing ever matters, not anymore.)