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Three chaotic yet lovely weeks have passed since they welcomed the new member to their small nest.
If anyone asks how he's been doing, in response, Kaiser will simply smile. Because he is more than satisfied. Far more, that it's hard to describe how much and, especially, why. These days, after Yohan has been coaxed to sleep and their house enters an unusual tranquility, and Isagi is not by his side, either training at the club or busy with the chores, he will count through some possible causes. Maybe it's the genuine care the doctors have provided him with. Maybe it's the wholehearted support they have received from Isagi's parents. Maybe it's the relief that their baby has, so far, been perfectly healthy. Or maybe it's a combination of all.
Even so, parenting has never been a mission free from challenges. In the conclusion written by his lactation specialist, Kaiser has a very high risk of producing less milk than necessary. Therefore, according to his customized plan, now is the time for him to start using a breast pump, which will send signals to his body so that it will maintain the required level of milk everyday.
Setting down the manual of the device, he picks its flange up. Even at the hospital, Kaiser has never used a breast pump. Since the day Yohan was born, he has always directly breastfed him. And their baby has never wasted a drop. Not to mention his overflowing joy whenever Yohan latches at him, regardless of whether it's day or midnight, and their warmth mingle as if that's the most natural thing ever. Glancing at his little treasure, the side of his lips curl up. He doesn't like the idea of a machine sucking at his chest, but as long as it's for Yohan's benefits, he will never mind.
Having arranged the flanges neatly on his breasts and allowed himself a comfortable position against the headboard, Kaiser turns the machine on, letting it stay at the stimulation mode, while he returns to the parenting book he's yet to finish. When the alarm on his phone goes off, he reaches for the device and switches it to the expression mode.
The sensation at his breast turns out to be much more relaxing than he has expected. Without his consciousness, Kaiser slowly forgets about it and his eyes also stop flickering between the book page and the control buttons. Just like that, time passes by.
Only when his phone buzzes and rings for the second time does he closes the book and lowers his head to examine the flanges. Several drops of milk still flow from his nipples, but their pace has clearly become slower. Smiling to himself as a congratulation for his first success with the task, Kaiser carefully removes the flanges and reaches for the two feeding bottles.
It's not until then has he realised what challenge he has signed himself up for. Behind the pump unit, the only thing he has paid attention to all this time, stand the two bottles full of white milk.
Exactly. The bottles of purely white milk he has always hated. No. To be more precise, the sight he has never stopped fearing.
Human beings are most acquainted with two drinks: milk and alcohol. One is the first thing that we have ever eaten in our whole life, the first thing that maintains our existence. Without milk, a baby is less likely to survive. While the latter accompanies us through both joys and sorrows. At the party of graduation, we may drink. At the break-up with our partners, more likely than not, we drink and lament and cry. They have become an inseparable parts in our lives, so inseparable that they have made their ways into countless of our art pieces.
But ... Kaiser is in no way an ordinary human being. Or at least, that's how he has viewed himself. Most people cannot remember the taste of the milk from their mothers' breasts. Nevertheless, most people grow up with the cups of milk their mothers hand them every morning. And even in the cases where they are allergic to milk, most of them have once tried alcohol, just to know whether they can drink to have a wonderful night or drink away their sorrow. And there. There comes the point where he cannot find himself among them. Ever since he could consciously decide what to swallow down his throat, he has touched neither of them. For both are damnable liquids that never fail to remind him of his unfortunate fate.
"Swash!"
Before he manages to pull his own arms back, they have already shoved the whole device, together with those two bottles down from the nightstand.
Their crash against the parquet floor comes less than a second later, hammering on his ears and stitching his eyes closed.
However, it isn't the end of such a mess. A few seconds later, from the cradle next to their bed, Yohan begins crying. Fortunately, without much effort, his weep drags Kaiser back to the room.
"Yohan!" He calls even though his own eyes have been dyed a fiery red. Then he rushes to the cradle and with utmost care, scoops Yohan up into his arms — the arms that mere seconds ago scared his own child to tears.
He tries to open his mouth and move his tongue, but only succeeds with the first. For the second, he finds himself completely powerless. It can't produce any word. Leaving his throat are nothing more than unsteady and hurried breaths.
Despite such incompetence, he still doesn't forget to hold his baby close to his chest and gently, in tiny and slightly trembling motions, stroke his hairless head.
If only ...
If only ...
"Micha! What's wrong?" Appearing at the threshold, Isagi asks amidst heavy pants.
Kaiser's eyes, in an instant, shoot toward his husband, sending him an urgent message through his reddened eyes and shaky, pale lips.
And that's everything Isagi needs. He scans through the room and his gaze quickly catches the poor device with its bottles lying stray on the floor. He nods, signaling he has grasped the situation.
Though his pyjamas remains unbuttoned, Kaiser knows how trivial such a detail is. For the moment, he doesn't think he can handle Yohan anymore. So, as Isagi approaches them, albeit very involuntarily, he tears his little gem from his chest, preparing to send him away.
And yet, Isagi lifts both his hands, beckoning a "stop" with a reassuring smile, "You keep him."
"W-What?" Kaiser furrows.
"Just keep him." Isagi wraps his arms around his dear husband's shoulders, tenderly pulling him in an embrace.
Replying to Kaiser's inquisitive eyes, Isagi strokes his hunched back and gives his azure eyes an earnest look, "You need Yohan, right?"
His eyes go wide. Then his lashes falter.
Of course. Of course he does. And he knows so. But ...
"Am I allowed to?" He asks, voice filled with uncertainty.
"Why not?" Isagi brushes his nose against Kaiser's, "You're his father. You gave birth to him. You take care of him everyday."
"I just ... I just scared him. I just made him cry, Yoichi."
"He's only startled. Everyone startles. It's just that instead of jolting and shouting back, he cries." Isagi shrugs.
Really? Is it really so? Kaiser contemplates. Perhaps it is. Perhaps it isn't as complicated as he has thought. Maybe his baby isn't scared of him.
"You see?" Isagi says, eyeing Yohan.
"What?"
"He's stopped crying." Isagi giggles, whispering.
What? Kaiser drops his gaze.
He blinks, then blinks again.
Wow. Isagi is right. Yohan is ... soundly sleeping again.
"I didn't even touch him." Isagi caresses his cheek. "You calmed him down, Micha."
He bites his bottom lip. He narrows his eyes.
"Did I?" He needs this.
"Yes. You did it." Rubbing Kaiser's ears, Isagi confirms. Even though his voice is barely above a whisper, somehow he makes it sound truly like a cheer.
Turning toward the mess on the floor, Isagi says, worry absent from his voice, "Let me handle them."
"I'm sorry." Kaiser murmurs.
"No. No. And no." Isagi doesn't speed his words up like those characters in movies. He emphasises each "no" with not only his voice, but also his whole expression.
"But I don't know how to deal with it next time." He lowers his head. Yohan is asleep now. He can place him back into the cradle. Still, he doesn't want to. Probably, tonight, he will be a little selfish and keep his baby by his side.
Contrary to his confusion, Isagi lift the devices up, heading for the door and leaving him a wink, "I'll take care of that. Just get ready for sleep."
The next morning, as usual, Kaiser wakes to Isagi's sweet kisses on his forehead. They then have breakfast together before he return the kisses, of course, on Isagi's lips and sees his husband off for training.
Right when he's about to wash the dishes, his eyes spot something.
The breast pump, which has been thoroughly cleaned, is currently dried on the countertop. Anyhow, the two bottles are gone.
He wonders what Isagi has been plotting? Whatever it is, with the bottles being absent from his sight, apparently, Kaiser is free from the task of breast pumping, at least until Isagi is back home, which is four in the afternoon.
Perhaps Isagi has pampered him a tad too much, Kaiser feels very little guilty about such a slack. Thus, he whiles the day away with his usual routine: breastfeeding Yohan, working out at home with his personal trainer, preparing lunch for himself, joining Yohan in his peaceful nap, and vacuum cleaning their massive house.
But it turns out to be super weird. Because why hasn't Isagi been at home yet? When the clock has already read half past four? What has prevented him from coming home at the right time?
Kaiser is sitting on the kitchen island, his feet dangling and doing small kicks, his eyes narrowed into nearly a line, and his brows so close to each other that they might collide.
Isagi knows how lonely Kaiser feels being left at home with a tiny creature who rarely does anything beyond sleep, which is why he has never failed to bolt home right after training is completed. Of course, that was only applicable to the days before today. Today, a stain has been left and a record has been kept.
Kaiser waits. And waits. And waits.
Then, finally, when there are only two minutes to five o'clock, he hears the rumble of their SUV pulling up in their yard.
Like a sorcerer, he teleports himself to the door. Yet, rather than pulling the expectant smile like other days, he displays his grumpy face even when the door clicks open.
"Humh?" Isagi can't hide his surprise.
"Humh?" Kaiser's hum climbs to higher pitches as he prolongs it.
After a couple seconds, Isagi bursts into a breathless laughter. His hands clutch his belly. Obviously he has fought with all his might not to double over.
Kaiser stares at him, face unhappy. But from within, he's unable to deny how dazzling Isagi looks at the moment. Even the rays of the salted-egg-yolk sun behind his back cannot match the beautiful sparkle at the corner of his eyes.
"What?!" Kaiser grunts.
Isagi waves his hand, "I'm sorry." Yet, he goes on with his laugh.
Kaiser knows better than to ask it aloud. But it has been stuck in his throat for an hour (or perhaps more), so he disregards such reason and spits it out, "Where have you been?"
Issgi sniffs a few times, before straightening himself up and holding out the paper bag in his hand.
"What is it?" Kaiser reaches for its drawstring.
Isagi jerks his chin outward, eyeing it, "Just have a look".
Okay. Kaiser follows it.
And his eyes widen.
Inside the bag is a big transparent cuboid food container.
And inside it are those two feeding bottles that have vanished since this morning.
But more importantly, as Kaiser drops the paper bag to the door mat and opens the container, he cannot peel his gaze off the two bottles. For both of them are covered in adorable colorful drawings — suns, balloons, moons, stars, rainbows, kittens, puppies, cotton candies, cakes, footballs, ... and chibis of Isagi and Kaiser themselves in their Bastard München kits.
Then at a closer look, his eyes catch a couple of short endearments printed in gradient pink-purple-blue bubble letters:
"I love you"
"I'm here"
"Don't be scared"
"Just call me"
"Take it slow"
"You're amazing"
Kaiser looks up. His misty eyes speak for everything his tongue is incapable of.
"They're waterproof." Isagi cocks his head, smiling.
"Yoichi, I—" Then he is silent. And he purses his lips, tightly.
Just last night, he was so, so frightened of them, that he forgot about his own baby's slumber and acted like a beast losing its entire control.
And now, less than twenty-four hours later, he is hugging them in his arms, clenching his fingers around them, as if they are the most treasured belongings he has ever had.
"Micha." Isagi calls, his voice calm, like the soothing rivulet that has always embraced his heart.
So he looks at Isagi in his eyes.
"It must be really hard, right?" Isagi takes Kaiser's hands in his.
"But you're not alone." He rubs Kaiser's knuckles while their eyes melt into each other's.
"You, no, we can take it slow." He shakes his head, "There's no need to be hurried."
As he pulls Kaiser into his arms, Isagi murmurs, running his fingers through Kaiser's blond strands, those that have turned a bit more bristly following Yohan's arrival, "You don't have to go straight into that eight times of breast pumps everyday. I'll call our specialist to draft another plan for you."
Then he parts from Kaiser, while still holding Kaiser's hands, "We'll spend those first times together, until you're comfortable enough to do it on your own. Is it okay?"
Of course it is. So he nods.
"Thank you, Yoichi." He throws himself into Isagi's affectionate arms again.