Close To The Chaos
Title: Close To The Chaos
Pairing: Yesung/Ryeowook
Author: thundersquall
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 6,062
Summary: Yesung’s POV month-by-month on what it’s like to be a father-to-be, and how to handle the chaos, Yesung-style. Crack, fluff, cheesiness.
WARNING: Mpreg.
Credit must be given to several people for the conception (pun not intended) of this.
shiryu_yugureprompted me over MSN one day for this, and we spent some time flailing and dying over the cuteness of the concept. Neither of us is actually into mpreg, and yet this idea was too cute to be passed up.
Dedicated to almondsluber, because she was one of the first people to spazz with me over imaginary adorable YeWook babies.
Also to
watashi_sama, father/mother of our sexy babies Thundersama and Watashisquall, for getting me into the mpreg genre in the first place with her awesome series Yes, Sex Does Make Them.
NC-17 outtake for the fourth month in this fic can be found here.
___
FIRST MONTH
From the very start, I had no doubt that I’d make the best father in the world. It pissed me off to no end that none of the rest of the group seemed to see it. Indeed, when Ryeowook and I first broke the news to them, instead of the congratulatory slaps on the back and veiled smirks I expected to receive for being the most manly man in the band (no one else was even near to fatherhood), all I got were gasps and groans of “Oh, shit!” and alarmed cries of “Oh my god, he’ll be insufferable”.
I honestly didn’t understand it. I stood there, in the middle of the living room, and said loudly, “What is this crap, can’t any of you be happy for me for once?”
I watched dumbfounded as the others plucked themselves off the couches and various spots on the floor and shuffled off to their own rooms. Some of them patted me as they passed, with oddly sympathetic looks in their eyes; others hugged Ryeowook in a way that looked more comforting than congratulatory. Ryeowook himself, after the living room was empty, looked up at me, sighed, and walked off. He refused to speak to me for the rest of the day.
I thought on this for two days before I couldn’t take it anymore and went to see Leeteuk-hyung.
“Hyung,” I began as I sat down on his bed, “what’s wrong with all of you?”
Leeteuk-hyung looked tired as he took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jongwoon-ah,” he said carefully. “What makes you think you’ll make a good father?”
“I’m gentle,” I said loudly.
“Only to Ryeowook.”
“I’m sweet.”
“Only to Ryeowook.”
“I make money.”
Leeteuk-hyung paused. “So does Ryeowook.”
I snarled. “Why don’t you tell me why I won’t make a good father then, since you’re so sure!”
Leeteuk-hyung sighed. “Jongwoon, it’s not that I think that way. But it’s just that… well, you know, you’re kind of… fail. It’s not your fault, but you’re the type that will trip over your own feet even if you’re on a smooth straight road and there’s nothing else around to trip you up.”
I stood up indignantly at that, knocking my chair over in the process. It hit the edge of Leeteuk-hyung’s table, jolting it, and the vase on it toppled over, spilling water and bedraggled flowers all over the papers, plushies, and various knick-knacks on the desk.
It took us 10 minutes to clean up the mess, during which I somehow managed to actually drop the vase on to the floor and break it, adding another 10 minutes to our cleaning up time. When we were finally done, Leeteuk-hyung slumped back in his chair while I stood red-faced and fidgeting.
“Leave the baby to Ryeowook, please,” he said, and I nodded dumbly, turning to leave his room and bumping my shoulder against the doorframe as I did so.
“And don’t keep touching its philtrum when it’s born, a baby’s skin is very sensitive!” he yelled from behind me, just as Kangin walked past, apparently on his way to look for Leeteuk-hyung too.
“Yeah, look what you did to Kyuhyunnie’s skin,” he snickered, and I mustered the fiercest glare I could and turned it on him until he hurried into Leeteuk-hyung’s room and shut the door.
Siwon, however, was slightly kinder when I cornered him one day and told him what Leeteuk-hyung had said.
“No, it’s not really that, hyung,” he said, clapping his hand on my shoulder. “You’re pretty fail, but it’s endearing, and nothing life-threatening so far.”
“Uh… thanks?” I said, wondering if it was meant to be a compliment.
“The thing that worries most of us, hyung, is that you’re so overprotective when it comes to Ryeowook.”
I drew myself up to my full height, which was still nothing compared to Siwon. “Ryeowook is delicate now, he needs to be protected even more than he did before.”
“Hyung, if you get any more protective over him than you were before, none of us would live past a day.”
“What are you talking about - Shin Donghee, what do you think you’re doing!”
Ryeowook, who was standing a little way away from me and Siwon and looking into the fridge for snacks, looked up at me. Shindong was standing behind him and had just slipped his arms around Ryeowook’s waist, patting his tummy and propping his chin on his shoulder as they stared into the fridge together.
I marched over and pulled Shindong away from Ryeowook. “Touch him again and you’re dead,” I snarled, anger bubbling up in me. “You could have hurt Ryeowook! You could have endangered him - and the baby! You could have knocked him into the fridge and caused a concussion!”
Shindong stared at me, open-mouthed. “Hyung, it was just a hug.”
Beside him, Ryeowook pouted and I dropped Shindong immediately and went to him, drawing him into a hug. “Where does it hurt? Did Shindong hold you too tight? Did he hurt you?”
“No,” Ryeowook said, wriggling in my arms. “I’m just hungry, Jongwoon, and there’s nothing to eat.” He gestured forlornly at the fridge, which was stocked full to the brim. “And you’re the one holding me too tight.”
I let go immediately, apologizing over and over. Shindong laughed and Siwon mumbled something behind me that sounded like a prayer, but I was too busy checking Ryeowook over to care.
SECOND MONTH
“This is all your fault,” Ryeowook gasped.
“I know, I’m sorry,” I said soothingly as I knelt beside him, one hand smoothing his hair back over his damp forehead and the other hand rubbing his back.
Currently, we were in the bathroom, for the sixth time that day. It was like clockwork. After every meal, Ryeowook would sit quietly and wait, and ten minutes later run to the bathroom. I could time the days by Ryeowook’s bouts of nausea. The good thing (sort of, considering what food did to him) was that Ryeowook couldn’t seem to stop eating, or snacking even between meals - with the constant throwing up, I’d be worried if he wasn’t eating as well.
“Why do they call it morning sickness when it happens each time I eat, night or day?” he asked me plaintively, leaning his head against my chest in exhaustion.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” I said. I truly didn’t. How the fuck was I supposed to know why? This pregnancy thing wasn’t exactly my forte, and I had my hands full already trying to alternately comfort Ryeowook while he threw up and defusing his temper tantrums on the other. Speaking of which -
“This is your fault,” he hissed at me, his face strained. He heaved again and put his face over the toiler bowl. There was a sickening splash and I tried not to look as I rubbed my hand harder along his back.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, making my voice as soft and soothing as I could. It didn’t work.
“Stop saying that!” Ryeowook cried, lifting his head up and staring at me with a look that could curdle milk. “You’re not sorry at all, stop saying you are!”
I cocked my head to the side. “Wook-ah, what are you talking about, I really am - “
“Don’t say it, don’t say it! You don’t mean it at all, you’re the one who got me into this state, and now I’m suffering, while you walk around looking like this is the grandest thing in the world!”
“We’re having a baby, it is grand,” I said, confused.
“No!” Ryeowook cried. “No, if this is going to happen for the next eight months, I don’t want this, I don’t want it, get it out of me - “
He didn’t manage to finish before he heaved again and bent over the bowl once more, and I rubbed his shoulders gently as he threw up again, feeling immensely guilty. Ryeowook was right, I was the cause of him throwing his insides out multiple times a day. Well, technically it was the baby’s fault, but you could say I was the primary cause.
Donghae walked into the bathroom then, just as Ryeowook’s body jerked once more and a particularly loud series of staccato splashes were heard. He stared at Ryeowook and then at me, and opened his mouth; I thought he was going to ask if Ryeowook and I were all right, but instead he screamed for Kibum. “Kibummie! Kibummie!”
“What?” came the replying yell from the living room, where Kibum was playing games with Heechul-hyung.
“Kim Kibum!” Donghae screamed at the top of his lungs, making both Ryeowook and I jump. I held on to Ryeowook more tightly and shot my patented death glare at him.
“Shut the fuck up, you’re scaring Ryeowookie!”
Donghae didn’t answer, because Kibum had just appeared in the bathroom, concerned eyes falling on Donghae and Ryeowook. “What’s wrong, hyung? Oh - Ryeowook’s sick again?”
“For the sixth time today,” Ryeowook wailed, and I held him closer.
Donghae’s eyes were as large as saucers as he turned to Kibum. “Go. Now.”
“Where?” Kibum asked calmly. I had to hand it to him for not getting confused around Donghae. Or maybe he was, and he was just such a good actor he managed to hide it.
“Convenience store. Condoms. Go get condoms!”
“For?”
“Kim Kibum, if I ever end up like that - “ he pointed to Ryeowook, “I’ll rip your balls out with my bare hands. So, condoms, unless you want to live your life without testicles.”
Kibum tuned pale - he actually blanched - and left, on the spot.
Ryeowook burst into tears, and I was left rocking him on my chest, trying to calm him down while screaming at Donghae for being an insensitive prick.
THIRD MONTH
"Excuse me?" I repeated dumbly, certain I'd misheard. I was still half-asleep, yes, that must be it. Or maybe I was still asleep and I was just dreaming about Ryeowook waking me up to ask me for -
"I want sour cream, dried salted squid, vanilla ice cream, and Oreo cookies."
I pulled myself together. "Wook-ah, it's 2:30 a.m., we should be sleeping."
"I know, but I woke up because I feel so hungry!" Ryeowook whined.
I reached out and cupped his cheek. "If you're hungry, why don't I go out and make some ramen for - "
"No!" he screamed, so loudly and suddenly that I was stunned into momentary silence. "No, you don't understand, I don't want ramen, I want only sour cream, dried salted squid, vanilla ice cream, and Oreo cookies!"
I blinked. “Okay, Ryeowook, if you want snacks, there’s lots of food in the fridge. Come, let’s go out and we’ll look for something together, all right?” I took his small hand, but he tore it away from me.
“I’m hungry!” he wailed. “Please, Jongwoon, I need my sour cream, dried salted squid, vanilla ice cream, and Oreo cookies!”
“Okay, okay,” I sighed. I honestly didn’t know why Ryeowook wanted such an oddly put together menu, but I certainly wasn’t going to deny him. Whatever he wanted, I was determined to give it to him, even if it was the craziest mixture of food items possible in the middle of the night.
The way Ryeowook beamed at me as I changed into a pair of bermuda shorts and a t-shirt and grabbed my car keys made the disturbed sleep all worth it.
There was a 24-hour supermarket nearby where I got the sour cream, ice cream and cookies, and then I drove to a night bazaar where I managed to procure the requested dried squid before hurrying back to the dorm. Ryeowook was snuggled up on the living room couch watching TV when I walked in, the volume turned low so as not to wake the others up.
He literally squealed when I put the food in front of him and I sat and watched him eat. It was weird, all right - he’d first scoop a spoonful of vanilla ice cream and put it on top of an Oreo cookie, before putting the whole thing in his mouth, and once that was done he’d scoop a spoonful of sour cream, put it on top of a piece of dried squid, and pop that in his mouth too. He alternated the two with every expression of enjoyment on his face, while I sat there and tried not to wince in case he caught me and got mad again.
As it turned out, Ryeowook didn’t get mad while eating - he was too happy for that - but ten minutes after he’d finished eating, he was back in the bathroom heaving and railing at me for getting him into this and causing all his problems while I tried to beat down the feelings of guilt as I did my best to comfort him.
Pregnancy hormones, I decided, made people crazy.
FOURTH MONTH
“Jongwoon?”
“Hmm?” I said lazily, half-asleep. My hand was tracing slow circles over Ryeowook’s stomach, his head tucked into the crook of my neck. Ryeowook was already showing slightly - he was so tiny that the slightest change in his body shape was immediately obvious. I didn’t mind; it was incredibly exciting to me, thinking of the little life we created together, alive and well and so perfect.
“Jongwoon, it’s been four months.”
“Yeah, I know,” I smiled. “Baby’s growing well, too.”
He pulled away to look up at me. ‘I didn’t mean the baby.”
“Then what is it?”
He pulled completely away this time, and to my surprise he began blushing, just slightly, before he turned to face the wall so I couldn’t see his face.
“Ryeowook… what is it?” I asked, inching closer to hug him again and pull him against my chest, nuzzling the soft nape of his neck.
He mumbled something I couldn’t catch. “What is it?” I repeated.
Ryeowook turned around then, quite abruptly, until he was facing me and our faces were no more than two inches apart. He looked worried and upset, and I immediately felt anxious. I reached up to caress his cheek. “Ryeowook, why - “
“It’s been four months since we had sex,” he blurted out.
I blinked - of all the things in the world, this was the last thing I’d expected him to say. It was true, I hadn’t touched him since we found out about his condition. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to - shit, sometimes I wanted to so badly I felt like my aching groin was splitting apart, especially with him beautiful and glowing and soft in my arms, rubbing against me every night when we were going to bed - but I was afraid to.
“Um,” I said, searching for something to say, when I realized to my horror that Ryeowook’s eyes were filling with tears.
“You hate me now,” he whispered.
“What? No, Ryeowook, I most certainly don’t - “
“You hate me!” he yelled, so suddenly that I rolled away instinctively and fell off the bed, landing on the floor with a loud crash. I yelped at the pain, expecting that Ryeowook would climb out of bed and fuss over me as usual, but he didn’t. He sat up and peered over at me, tears still streaming down his delicate face.
“You think I’m fat and ugly now, so you don’t want to have sex with me anymore!” he said accusingly as I lay on the floor and stared up at him, trying to ignore the pain in my spine and hoping I wasn’t paralyzed.
“Ryeowook, I don’t think you’re fat, and I certainly don’t think you’re ugly,” I said softly, trying to calm him with my voice. It didn’t work.
“Then why do you refuse to touch me?” he wailed. “It must be because I’m fat now, and I’m so ugly, you must be so disgusted by me, I - “
I managed to sit up and reached over, putting my finger against his lips. “No, of course not! It’s just - well, it’s not safe, Ryeowook.”
“What the hell do you mean it’s not safe? I’m already pregnant, it’s not like it’s going to happen again!”
“It’s not safe for the baby.”
Ryeowook’s eyes went wide. “That’s not true, Jongwoon!”
I was bewildered. “It isn’t?”
“No, it’s safe,” he said. “It’s fine, the baby will be fine, now please, can we just have sex before I burst?”
“But - “ I still wasn’t entirely convinced. How could such a, well, rough activity be okay for the baby? It couldn’t be. What if the baby got dislodged somehow, with all the movements? What if it got hurt and no one knew? What if -
Another loud wail from Ryeowook interrupted my reverie, and I hurried back on to the bed to soothe him. “I knew it, I knew it! You think I’m ugly now! You don’t love me anymore!”
I panicked. I never could bear to see Ryeowook cry. “Oh god, no, Ryeowook, I really don’t, you’re the most beautiful thing in the world to me.”
“Do you really mean it?” Ryeowook asked, tilting his face up to me in such a way that the dim nightlight in our room cast his features in a soft glow. His eyes were still wet, but his lips were red and pretty and so, so tempting. I gulped.
“Yes,” I managed hoarsely. “Yes, Ryeowook, you’re gorgeous.”
“Then why not, Jongwoon?” he said softly, pressing himself closer against me, his body heat shockingly fiery. “Why not?” he said, putting his hands on my shoulders and pushing me down into the pillows. “Why not?” he repeated, climbing right on top of me, his hands pushing my t-shirt up, dancing over my abdomen and chest as he ground his hips into mine.
“Ryeowook - “ was all I managed to say before he was all over me like a hot little flame, all eager hands and warm wet tongue, and I forgot what I was so worried about.
As it turned out, I didn’t have anything to worry about, baby-wise. As it turned out too, pregnancy hormones apparently made someone not only crazy, but incredibly horny. I wouldn’t say I didn’t like it (hell, I loved it; as far as I was concerned Ryeowook could stay sex-crazed forever), but between the sexual marathons and the late-night food cravings, I found myself more tired than I ever had been before.
I only wondered why Ryeowook never seemed as exhausted. In fact, he was insatiable, while I was drained - happy, but drained to within an inch of my life. Hankyung-hyung would take pity on me sometimes and come in to feed me cups of coffee on the mornings I couldn’t even get out of bed.
FIFTH MONTH
Once we got the news that our baby was going to be a girl, I braced myself for the expected explosion. It came within two hours of us telling the rest about the baby’s gender.
Sungmin dashed out with Ryeowook the moment we told him and came back a couple of hours later, laden with bags full of baby stuff. I couldn’t believe how much they’d bought. There were clothes, bottles, rattles, toys, blankets, and other things that I didn’t even know the uses for, much less their names. And of course, every last item was pink.
When Sungmin and Ryeowook spread the stuff out on the living room floor, I winced; our dorm now looked like a fluffy pink weapon of mass disaster had exploded all over it, and the colour was beating my brain up.
“Guys,” I said, “what’s with all this?”
Sungmin looked up at me from where he was squealing over a little pink jumper, his eyes very wide and round. “Hyung, you have to start preparing for the baby.”
I sat down gingerly next to Ryeowook, who was cuddling an enormous plushie in the shape of an egg that was truly huge - it was about half his entire body. He looked adorable with it, but I was trying too hard to ignore the mysterious baby things in front of me. “Yes, but do we need this much?”
“Yes!” they both shouted simultaneously, and I jumped. Ryeowook added, “I don’t even think we have enough.”
I gulped. “Ryeowook-ah, aren’t you spending too much already? I mean all these - they must be really expensive, you bought so much.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Ryeowook said cheerfully, giving me a squeeze as he nuzzled his cheek into the egg plushie. “I used your credit card.”
I knew then that the nightmare was only just beginning.
It got worse when the necessities were finally bought and Ryeowook could concentrate on what I called un-necessities, but which he insisted the baby had to have. But somehow, Baby Gucci clothes, Tiffany rattles, and monogrammed baby blankets (all pink, still) didn’t strike me as things that were essential for the baby.
At the end of it all, the credit card bills nearly sent me into cardiac arrest. No one seemed to care, not even Ryeowook; they were all too busy admiring the multitude of expensive pink.
SIXTH MONTH
I’d pretty much gotten into the habit of singing to Ryeowook at all times of the day. If there was one thing all the pregnancy books had taught me, it was that babies liked music. Also, babies apparently could recognize the voices of their parents. I put two and two together and now followed Ryeowook around like a walking radio, belting out Super Junior’s songs at the top of my powerful lungs.
“Shut up, Yesung,” Heechul-hyung snarled at me one day, as I was in the kitchen preparing Ryeowook’s favourite snack of sour cream on dried salted squid. “We’re sick of your voice. This is what, the 28th time you’ve sung ‘Marry U’ today?”
“32nd, actually,” Hyukjae said from opposite him. “I’ve been keeping count.”
“And Ryeowookie isn’t even here, he’s in your bedroom, why the fuck are you still singing?”
I didn’t reply and continued to sing loudly as I picked the plate up, squid arranged nicely around the edges, a careful dollop of sour cream sitting prettily on each piece. Frankly, when Ryeowook had forced one down my throat once, it tasted like shit. But whatever Ryeowook wanted, Ryeowook would get. I wasn’t about to deprive him, my little Ryeowook had turned out to have quite a temper.
Heechul-hyung yelled again. “Yah! Stop fucking singing, moron, he can’t hear you.”
I finally stopped and turned to glare at him. “You’re breaking my rhythm!”
“Good,” Hyukjae said. “Stop singing, hyung. Go back to your room and - and sing there, we can’t take it anymore.”
I tossed my head and marched off. Those idiots wouldn’t know a good singing voice if it hit them naked in the face. I was eager to get back to Ryeowook and my child, where they would appreciate my singing. Sure, my throat was maybe getting hoarse, but it was worth it.
As I headed towards my bedroom, though, I could faintly hear the distinctive voice of Kyuhyun inside. What was he doing in there? my mind wondered as I opened the door.
Ryeowook was lying on our bed, curled on his side, eyes closed and his face wreathed in a small contented smile as Kyuhyun sat on the floor next to him. Kyuhyun was singing 7 Years' Love, his voice rich and smooth as always, if a tad softer than usual, because he'd propped his chin on the bed right next to Ryeowook's stomach and was singing to it.
My mouth moved before my brain did. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
The notes died abruptly as Kyuhyun stopped and looked up. "Hyung! You're back!"
Ryeowook opened his eyes as well, soft and glazed with sleep. "Jongwoon?"
"What - what is this?" I hissed, slamming the plate down on the nearest table and stalking over. Kyuhyun was completely unfazed.
"I'm singing to the baby," he said, grinning. "Ryeowook said the baby likes singing - apparently she stops kicking when someone's singing nearby - so since you were busy I decided to do it."
I reached out with a low growl and grabbed Kyuhyun by the neckline of his shirt, pulling him to his feet. "This is my baby, and I'll be the one doing the singing. Now, get out."
Kyuhyun only smirked at me, his black eyes playful. "But my voice is better than yours, hyung."
"Not fucking true, and you know it," I snapped. "Now get lost, magnae. Go sing to Sungmin and stay away from my Ryeowook."
"Jongwoon," Ryeowook said admonishingly from behind me, and I let go of Kyuhyun's shirt, albeit reluctantly.
Kyuhyun laughed. "Oh, hyung, you’re so possessive, it's almost cute." And before I could yell at being called cute (I'm 26 years old and soon to be a father, for God's sake!) he sauntered out, looking every inch the snarky magnae that he was.
I turned back to Ryeowook. "That snarky magnae," I repeated for good measure as I slumped down next to him, feeling his arms wrap around me. "Remind me why I love him again?"
Ryeowook laughed softly, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Because you just can't help it, no one can resist the magnae."
"Not even you... or the baby, I guess," I said, keeping my eyes downcast. I didn’t want to look up and show Ryeowook the jealousy that was still roiling in my stomach.
Ryeowook merely swept my hair back from my forehead and laughed again. "Silly, she was still kicking like crazy when Kyuhyun was singing, you know." His voice dropped a little lower. "She never kicks when it's you."
SEVENTH MONTH
"What did you say?" Ryeowook shrieked.
"Yes, isn't it amazing! Think about it, Wook-ah. It's the perfect name, it shows how we created something so beautiful and wonderful and it symbolises the both of us combined in our baby!"
Since the baby was due so soon, Ryeowook had decided to call a meeting and ask everyone to help pick names. All 15 of us were currently huddled together in the living room, and Ryeowook had turned down every single suggestion thrown his way. I didn’t blame him; some were frankly stupid (Donghae had suggested Bada, saying that in this way the baby would be close to him), some were not feasible at all (Zhou Mi had suggested a Chinese name), and some were just plain odd (“I’m not naming her after you, Heechul-hyung,” Ryeowook had firmly turned Heechul down).
I’d left my own choice last, believing that Ryeowook would scream for joy and maybe give me a kiss for being so utterly brilliant. I honestly didn't know why the entire room was suddenly silent. What I did know was that the way Ryeowook's face was scrunching up boded nothing good - it meant he was going to cry.
"Ryeowook?" I began hesitantly.
His mouth opened wide - I went completely rigid - and the next moment a loud wail burst out of his throat as his face went red with fury, the sound smacking into me with all the force of a tidal wave.
"I HAAAAAAAATE YOOOOOOOOOOOOU!" he screamed, before getting to his feet clumsily and with difficulty. I jumped up and put my arm around him to support him, but he shrugged me off and glared at me, his eyes streaming with tears that made me panicky.
"Why - Ryeowook, what's wrong?" I gulped, attempting to wipe his tears away, but he knocked my hand away.
"I HAAAAAAAAAATE YOOOOOOOOOOU!" he screamed again - I literally had to take a step back as the high-frequency sound waves buffeted me - and waddled off towards our room huffily, where he slammed the door as loud as he could.
"What - what did I do?" I asked, dumbfounded, as I turned back to the room at large.
Leeteuk simply unfolded himself from Kangin and shot me a glare that was amazingly similar to Ryeowook's.
"Jongwoon, naming your daughter Yewook is not a good idea."
"It's our couple name!" I said.
"It's a stupid name!" Kangin said.
"It signifies our love and togetherness!"
“Hyung,” Henry spoke up timidly, “Think about it, it isn’t - uh, it isn’t a suitable name for a girl, anyway.”
I thought on it for a while. “You’re right,” I finally agreed, and Henry seemed to relax. “Well, what about Ryeowoon? That’s pretty girly, isn’t it, and it’s still us combined - “
The door to my room opened and Ryeowook stuck his head out, still crying. "I don't waaaaaaaaaaaant that!" he screamed, before slamming the door shut again.
I sighed. To be honest, I didn’t really like Ryeowoon much too. Yewook was the perfect name, why couldn't anyone see that? But if Ryeowook didn't want it, I'd give it up in a heartbeat. And I figured, I had another two months to try to change his mind.
Sometime during the month, though, Ryeowook had finally decided on Su Jin, and coerced me into accepting it. Frankly, I didn’t have much of a choice. The combined weapons of tears and sex that Ryeowook wielded constantly were terrifying.
Kim Su Jin didn’t sound half-bad though, I had to concede.
EIGHTH MONTH
With the delivery so near, Ryeowook had decided that all of us needed to learn how to handle babies, so we all ended up in a prenatal class for the month, holding dolls awkwardly and trying not to look sheepish.
It came as no surprise to me that Hankyung-hyung, Ryeowook, and Sungmin were the most able to look after babies. Sungmin, in particular, handled the doll as expertly as if he was already a father of 10, knowing exactly how to diaper and feed it without a single flaw. Ryeowook too, except for that one time where he drove a safety pin right into his doll, did everything perfectly. Hankyung-hyung could be even more motherly than Leeteuk-hyung at times, so watching him dress his doll tenderly was nothing shocking.
The real surprises were Henry, Kyuhyun, Kibum (what was with the magnae line and their brains?) and, of all people, Kangin.
“How’d you learn how to do all this with babies?” I hissed to him quietly one day under the guise of watching how he bathed his doll.
“Look at Teukie, do you think our baby would survive a week if we had one and I was like him?” he hissed back. Good point, I thought. Leeteuk-hyung had managed to drop his doll on the floor eight times today. It was something about his grip, he said; he just didn’t seem to know how to hold a baby.
I felt thankful that Kibum was good at handling the doll, considering how really fucked up Donghae was with it. He’d stuffed the whole doll underwater while bathing it and made it swim around in the small tub, pretending it was a fish. Sometimes, I felt sorry for Kibum, watching as he calmly and expressionlessly cleaned up every last mess left by Donghae.
Hyukjae and Zhou Mi were even worse than Donghae, to be honest. The HyukMi doll was by now reduced to a shapeless mess, thanks to their incompetence, and Ryeowook had sworn never to let them near Su Jin when she was born.
As for myself? I’d dropped the doll, stuck pins into it, drowned it, and suffocated it with its own clothes. I’d also managed to burn a hole into it with a lighter while attempting to burn off a stray thread on the clothes it was wearing. Ryeowook had burst into tears again, then vowed never to let me touch Su Jin, ever.
“I’m her father!” I’d exclaimed, outraged.
“You’re a father who will k-kill her!” he sobbed.
I couldn’t argue with that. So now I was reduced to not even doing anything but watching Kangin and the magnaes so I could “learn from them”. The humiliation, it burned. I wanted to wipe the smirk off Kyuhyun’s face in the worst way possible - like a fist-to-face sort of way.
NINTH MONTH
I had thought I was prepared for months, but when it came, I really wasn’t.
Luckily Ryeowook had been packed and ready for weeks, so he was pretty calm even as I dashed into the living room, howling my lungs out and causing Hyukjae, Sungmin and Kyuhyun to come running out of their rooms. Apparently my shouting could be heard on the 12th floor as well, because soon enough our living room was crowded with bodies and the noise was earsplitting as I tripped over everything and everyone in sight.
“Get Ryeowook down, Jongwoon!” Leeteuk-hyung roared. “I’ll go drive the car up!”
“God, no, Teukie, don’t drive!” Kangin shouted, but Leeteuk-hyung had already whipped out of the door. Kangin barreled after him, presumably to take over the driving - I sincerely hoped he was going to do so.
Kibum took control of the chaos. “Sungmin-hyung, get Ryeowook’s bag,” he ordered, sizing everyone’s abilities up at a glance. “Shindong-hyung, crowd control, get everyone away. Hankyung-hyung, organize everyone into cars after Yesung-hyung leaves with Ryeowook. Kyuhyunnie, you and Hyukjae-hyung go down and clear the area of passersby before Ryeowook gets down. Donghae-hyung, for everyone’s sake, just stay out of the way. Siwon-hyung, take care of Yesung-hyung.”
“Where are you going?” I called, as everyone rushed to follow orders.
Kibum rolled his sleeves up. “I’m going to carry Ryeowook down.” He disappeared into our bedroom and soon reappeared, Ryeowook comfortably ensconced in his arms.
I was about to fling myself on them and tear Ryeowook away from Kibum - hell, if anyone was going to touch Ryeowook, it would have to be me - but Siwon grabbed me and held me back. There was a minute of scuffling as I tried to fight my way out of Siwon’s grip while I hurled obscenities Kibum’s way (“You son of a bitch, stop touching Ryeowook, you’ll hurt him!”)
“Jongwoon, stop fighting with Siwon and move!” Ryeowook managed to shout just as Kibum carried him out of the front door.
“Damn it, that’s my boyfriend!” I yelled, twisting away from Siwon and making a run for the door. “Damn it, Kibum, get back here - Ryeowook, I - ouch!”
My feet tangled themselves up in each other and I fell on my face with a resounding crash. Kibum and Ryeowook didn’t even look back as Siwon came to help me up.
“Hyung, this is why Kibum would rather carry Ryeowook than let you do it,” he said sternly. I was in too much pain to argue when Siwon slung me over his shoulders with surprising strength and brought me downstairs, throwing me unceremoniously into the back of Kangin’s waiting car like a bag of rice.
I honestly didn’t remember much after that. Maybe it was because I was still dazed by my fall. Maybe it was because I was just too panicked. Maybe it was just Kangin going through every red light he came to while Leeteuk-hyung shrieked like a banshee in the front passenger seat. Or maybe it was the mess of people pressed around me at the hospital. In any case, the only thing I remember, very vividly, was the moment a nurse came out and motioned me into the room where Ryeowook was sitting on the bed with a tiny bundle wrapped in pink.
Ryeowook put her into my arms, and I could only stare. There she was, finally. Perfectly formed, from the tips of her hair to her tiny fingers and toes. Thick black hair and long large eyes like mine, pale skin and rose-petal lips like Ryeowook’s.
The first thing I could bring myself to say (my throat suddenly felt like it had closed up) was the word, “Piano.”
“What?’ Ryeowook said.
“I want you to teach her piano,” I said without looking up, still staring at my child, even though she was growing blurry right before my eyes. “I want Henry to teach her violin. I want Hankyung-hyung to teach her ballet. I want Kyuhyun to teach her how to sing. I want Sungmin to teach her martial arts. I want - I want - “
And then I just couldn’t speak anymore, as the tears finally overflowed and spattered on the precious little thing that belonged to me and the person I loved most in the world, but Ryeowook reached over and put an arm around my shoulders and his other hand on Su Jin’s little chest, and I knew he understood everything I was trying to say.
Pairing: Yesung/Ryeowook
Author: thundersquall
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 6,062
Summary: Yesung’s POV month-by-month on what it’s like to be a father-to-be, and how to handle the chaos, Yesung-style. Crack, fluff, cheesiness.
WARNING: Mpreg.
Credit must be given to several people for the conception (pun not intended) of this.
shiryu_yugureprompted me over MSN one day for this, and we spent some time flailing and dying over the cuteness of the concept. Neither of us is actually into mpreg, and yet this idea was too cute to be passed up.
Dedicated to almondsluber, because she was one of the first people to spazz with me over imaginary adorable YeWook babies.
Also to
watashi_sama, father/mother of our sexy babies Thundersama and Watashisquall, for getting me into the mpreg genre in the first place with her awesome series Yes, Sex Does Make Them.
NC-17 outtake for the fourth month in this fic can be found here.
___
FIRST MONTH
From the very start, I had no doubt that I’d make the best father in the world. It pissed me off to no end that none of the rest of the group seemed to see it. Indeed, when Ryeowook and I first broke the news to them, instead of the congratulatory slaps on the back and veiled smirks I expected to receive for being the most manly man in the band (no one else was even near to fatherhood), all I got were gasps and groans of “Oh, shit!” and alarmed cries of “Oh my god, he’ll be insufferable”.
I honestly didn’t understand it. I stood there, in the middle of the living room, and said loudly, “What is this crap, can’t any of you be happy for me for once?”
I watched dumbfounded as the others plucked themselves off the couches and various spots on the floor and shuffled off to their own rooms. Some of them patted me as they passed, with oddly sympathetic looks in their eyes; others hugged Ryeowook in a way that looked more comforting than congratulatory. Ryeowook himself, after the living room was empty, looked up at me, sighed, and walked off. He refused to speak to me for the rest of the day.
I thought on this for two days before I couldn’t take it anymore and went to see Leeteuk-hyung.
“Hyung,” I began as I sat down on his bed, “what’s wrong with all of you?”
Leeteuk-hyung looked tired as he took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jongwoon-ah,” he said carefully. “What makes you think you’ll make a good father?”
“I’m gentle,” I said loudly.
“Only to Ryeowook.”
“I’m sweet.”
“Only to Ryeowook.”
“I make money.”
Leeteuk-hyung paused. “So does Ryeowook.”
I snarled. “Why don’t you tell me why I won’t make a good father then, since you’re so sure!”
Leeteuk-hyung sighed. “Jongwoon, it’s not that I think that way. But it’s just that… well, you know, you’re kind of… fail. It’s not your fault, but you’re the type that will trip over your own feet even if you’re on a smooth straight road and there’s nothing else around to trip you up.”
I stood up indignantly at that, knocking my chair over in the process. It hit the edge of Leeteuk-hyung’s table, jolting it, and the vase on it toppled over, spilling water and bedraggled flowers all over the papers, plushies, and various knick-knacks on the desk.
It took us 10 minutes to clean up the mess, during which I somehow managed to actually drop the vase on to the floor and break it, adding another 10 minutes to our cleaning up time. When we were finally done, Leeteuk-hyung slumped back in his chair while I stood red-faced and fidgeting.
“Leave the baby to Ryeowook, please,” he said, and I nodded dumbly, turning to leave his room and bumping my shoulder against the doorframe as I did so.
“And don’t keep touching its philtrum when it’s born, a baby’s skin is very sensitive!” he yelled from behind me, just as Kangin walked past, apparently on his way to look for Leeteuk-hyung too.
“Yeah, look what you did to Kyuhyunnie’s skin,” he snickered, and I mustered the fiercest glare I could and turned it on him until he hurried into Leeteuk-hyung’s room and shut the door.
Siwon, however, was slightly kinder when I cornered him one day and told him what Leeteuk-hyung had said.
“No, it’s not really that, hyung,” he said, clapping his hand on my shoulder. “You’re pretty fail, but it’s endearing, and nothing life-threatening so far.”
“Uh… thanks?” I said, wondering if it was meant to be a compliment.
“The thing that worries most of us, hyung, is that you’re so overprotective when it comes to Ryeowook.”
I drew myself up to my full height, which was still nothing compared to Siwon. “Ryeowook is delicate now, he needs to be protected even more than he did before.”
“Hyung, if you get any more protective over him than you were before, none of us would live past a day.”
“What are you talking about - Shin Donghee, what do you think you’re doing!”
Ryeowook, who was standing a little way away from me and Siwon and looking into the fridge for snacks, looked up at me. Shindong was standing behind him and had just slipped his arms around Ryeowook’s waist, patting his tummy and propping his chin on his shoulder as they stared into the fridge together.
I marched over and pulled Shindong away from Ryeowook. “Touch him again and you’re dead,” I snarled, anger bubbling up in me. “You could have hurt Ryeowook! You could have endangered him - and the baby! You could have knocked him into the fridge and caused a concussion!”
Shindong stared at me, open-mouthed. “Hyung, it was just a hug.”
Beside him, Ryeowook pouted and I dropped Shindong immediately and went to him, drawing him into a hug. “Where does it hurt? Did Shindong hold you too tight? Did he hurt you?”
“No,” Ryeowook said, wriggling in my arms. “I’m just hungry, Jongwoon, and there’s nothing to eat.” He gestured forlornly at the fridge, which was stocked full to the brim. “And you’re the one holding me too tight.”
I let go immediately, apologizing over and over. Shindong laughed and Siwon mumbled something behind me that sounded like a prayer, but I was too busy checking Ryeowook over to care.
SECOND MONTH
“This is all your fault,” Ryeowook gasped.
“I know, I’m sorry,” I said soothingly as I knelt beside him, one hand smoothing his hair back over his damp forehead and the other hand rubbing his back.
Currently, we were in the bathroom, for the sixth time that day. It was like clockwork. After every meal, Ryeowook would sit quietly and wait, and ten minutes later run to the bathroom. I could time the days by Ryeowook’s bouts of nausea. The good thing (sort of, considering what food did to him) was that Ryeowook couldn’t seem to stop eating, or snacking even between meals - with the constant throwing up, I’d be worried if he wasn’t eating as well.
“Why do they call it morning sickness when it happens each time I eat, night or day?” he asked me plaintively, leaning his head against my chest in exhaustion.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” I said. I truly didn’t. How the fuck was I supposed to know why? This pregnancy thing wasn’t exactly my forte, and I had my hands full already trying to alternately comfort Ryeowook while he threw up and defusing his temper tantrums on the other. Speaking of which -
“This is your fault,” he hissed at me, his face strained. He heaved again and put his face over the toiler bowl. There was a sickening splash and I tried not to look as I rubbed my hand harder along his back.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, making my voice as soft and soothing as I could. It didn’t work.
“Stop saying that!” Ryeowook cried, lifting his head up and staring at me with a look that could curdle milk. “You’re not sorry at all, stop saying you are!”
I cocked my head to the side. “Wook-ah, what are you talking about, I really am - “
“Don’t say it, don’t say it! You don’t mean it at all, you’re the one who got me into this state, and now I’m suffering, while you walk around looking like this is the grandest thing in the world!”
“We’re having a baby, it is grand,” I said, confused.
“No!” Ryeowook cried. “No, if this is going to happen for the next eight months, I don’t want this, I don’t want it, get it out of me - “
He didn’t manage to finish before he heaved again and bent over the bowl once more, and I rubbed his shoulders gently as he threw up again, feeling immensely guilty. Ryeowook was right, I was the cause of him throwing his insides out multiple times a day. Well, technically it was the baby’s fault, but you could say I was the primary cause.
Donghae walked into the bathroom then, just as Ryeowook’s body jerked once more and a particularly loud series of staccato splashes were heard. He stared at Ryeowook and then at me, and opened his mouth; I thought he was going to ask if Ryeowook and I were all right, but instead he screamed for Kibum. “Kibummie! Kibummie!”
“What?” came the replying yell from the living room, where Kibum was playing games with Heechul-hyung.
“Kim Kibum!” Donghae screamed at the top of his lungs, making both Ryeowook and I jump. I held on to Ryeowook more tightly and shot my patented death glare at him.
“Shut the fuck up, you’re scaring Ryeowookie!”
Donghae didn’t answer, because Kibum had just appeared in the bathroom, concerned eyes falling on Donghae and Ryeowook. “What’s wrong, hyung? Oh - Ryeowook’s sick again?”
“For the sixth time today,” Ryeowook wailed, and I held him closer.
Donghae’s eyes were as large as saucers as he turned to Kibum. “Go. Now.”
“Where?” Kibum asked calmly. I had to hand it to him for not getting confused around Donghae. Or maybe he was, and he was just such a good actor he managed to hide it.
“Convenience store. Condoms. Go get condoms!”
“For?”
“Kim Kibum, if I ever end up like that - “ he pointed to Ryeowook, “I’ll rip your balls out with my bare hands. So, condoms, unless you want to live your life without testicles.”
Kibum tuned pale - he actually blanched - and left, on the spot.
Ryeowook burst into tears, and I was left rocking him on my chest, trying to calm him down while screaming at Donghae for being an insensitive prick.
THIRD MONTH
"Excuse me?" I repeated dumbly, certain I'd misheard. I was still half-asleep, yes, that must be it. Or maybe I was still asleep and I was just dreaming about Ryeowook waking me up to ask me for -
"I want sour cream, dried salted squid, vanilla ice cream, and Oreo cookies."
I pulled myself together. "Wook-ah, it's 2:30 a.m., we should be sleeping."
"I know, but I woke up because I feel so hungry!" Ryeowook whined.
I reached out and cupped his cheek. "If you're hungry, why don't I go out and make some ramen for - "
"No!" he screamed, so loudly and suddenly that I was stunned into momentary silence. "No, you don't understand, I don't want ramen, I want only sour cream, dried salted squid, vanilla ice cream, and Oreo cookies!"
I blinked. “Okay, Ryeowook, if you want snacks, there’s lots of food in the fridge. Come, let’s go out and we’ll look for something together, all right?” I took his small hand, but he tore it away from me.
“I’m hungry!” he wailed. “Please, Jongwoon, I need my sour cream, dried salted squid, vanilla ice cream, and Oreo cookies!”
“Okay, okay,” I sighed. I honestly didn’t know why Ryeowook wanted such an oddly put together menu, but I certainly wasn’t going to deny him. Whatever he wanted, I was determined to give it to him, even if it was the craziest mixture of food items possible in the middle of the night.
The way Ryeowook beamed at me as I changed into a pair of bermuda shorts and a t-shirt and grabbed my car keys made the disturbed sleep all worth it.
There was a 24-hour supermarket nearby where I got the sour cream, ice cream and cookies, and then I drove to a night bazaar where I managed to procure the requested dried squid before hurrying back to the dorm. Ryeowook was snuggled up on the living room couch watching TV when I walked in, the volume turned low so as not to wake the others up.
He literally squealed when I put the food in front of him and I sat and watched him eat. It was weird, all right - he’d first scoop a spoonful of vanilla ice cream and put it on top of an Oreo cookie, before putting the whole thing in his mouth, and once that was done he’d scoop a spoonful of sour cream, put it on top of a piece of dried squid, and pop that in his mouth too. He alternated the two with every expression of enjoyment on his face, while I sat there and tried not to wince in case he caught me and got mad again.
As it turned out, Ryeowook didn’t get mad while eating - he was too happy for that - but ten minutes after he’d finished eating, he was back in the bathroom heaving and railing at me for getting him into this and causing all his problems while I tried to beat down the feelings of guilt as I did my best to comfort him.
Pregnancy hormones, I decided, made people crazy.
FOURTH MONTH
“Jongwoon?”
“Hmm?” I said lazily, half-asleep. My hand was tracing slow circles over Ryeowook’s stomach, his head tucked into the crook of my neck. Ryeowook was already showing slightly - he was so tiny that the slightest change in his body shape was immediately obvious. I didn’t mind; it was incredibly exciting to me, thinking of the little life we created together, alive and well and so perfect.
“Jongwoon, it’s been four months.”
“Yeah, I know,” I smiled. “Baby’s growing well, too.”
He pulled away to look up at me. ‘I didn’t mean the baby.”
“Then what is it?”
He pulled completely away this time, and to my surprise he began blushing, just slightly, before he turned to face the wall so I couldn’t see his face.
“Ryeowook… what is it?” I asked, inching closer to hug him again and pull him against my chest, nuzzling the soft nape of his neck.
He mumbled something I couldn’t catch. “What is it?” I repeated.
Ryeowook turned around then, quite abruptly, until he was facing me and our faces were no more than two inches apart. He looked worried and upset, and I immediately felt anxious. I reached up to caress his cheek. “Ryeowook, why - “
“It’s been four months since we had sex,” he blurted out.
I blinked - of all the things in the world, this was the last thing I’d expected him to say. It was true, I hadn’t touched him since we found out about his condition. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to - shit, sometimes I wanted to so badly I felt like my aching groin was splitting apart, especially with him beautiful and glowing and soft in my arms, rubbing against me every night when we were going to bed - but I was afraid to.
“Um,” I said, searching for something to say, when I realized to my horror that Ryeowook’s eyes were filling with tears.
“You hate me now,” he whispered.
“What? No, Ryeowook, I most certainly don’t - “
“You hate me!” he yelled, so suddenly that I rolled away instinctively and fell off the bed, landing on the floor with a loud crash. I yelped at the pain, expecting that Ryeowook would climb out of bed and fuss over me as usual, but he didn’t. He sat up and peered over at me, tears still streaming down his delicate face.
“You think I’m fat and ugly now, so you don’t want to have sex with me anymore!” he said accusingly as I lay on the floor and stared up at him, trying to ignore the pain in my spine and hoping I wasn’t paralyzed.
“Ryeowook, I don’t think you’re fat, and I certainly don’t think you’re ugly,” I said softly, trying to calm him with my voice. It didn’t work.
“Then why do you refuse to touch me?” he wailed. “It must be because I’m fat now, and I’m so ugly, you must be so disgusted by me, I - “
I managed to sit up and reached over, putting my finger against his lips. “No, of course not! It’s just - well, it’s not safe, Ryeowook.”
“What the hell do you mean it’s not safe? I’m already pregnant, it’s not like it’s going to happen again!”
“It’s not safe for the baby.”
Ryeowook’s eyes went wide. “That’s not true, Jongwoon!”
I was bewildered. “It isn’t?”
“No, it’s safe,” he said. “It’s fine, the baby will be fine, now please, can we just have sex before I burst?”
“But - “ I still wasn’t entirely convinced. How could such a, well, rough activity be okay for the baby? It couldn’t be. What if the baby got dislodged somehow, with all the movements? What if it got hurt and no one knew? What if -
Another loud wail from Ryeowook interrupted my reverie, and I hurried back on to the bed to soothe him. “I knew it, I knew it! You think I’m ugly now! You don’t love me anymore!”
I panicked. I never could bear to see Ryeowook cry. “Oh god, no, Ryeowook, I really don’t, you’re the most beautiful thing in the world to me.”
“Do you really mean it?” Ryeowook asked, tilting his face up to me in such a way that the dim nightlight in our room cast his features in a soft glow. His eyes were still wet, but his lips were red and pretty and so, so tempting. I gulped.
“Yes,” I managed hoarsely. “Yes, Ryeowook, you’re gorgeous.”
“Then why not, Jongwoon?” he said softly, pressing himself closer against me, his body heat shockingly fiery. “Why not?” he said, putting his hands on my shoulders and pushing me down into the pillows. “Why not?” he repeated, climbing right on top of me, his hands pushing my t-shirt up, dancing over my abdomen and chest as he ground his hips into mine.
“Ryeowook - “ was all I managed to say before he was all over me like a hot little flame, all eager hands and warm wet tongue, and I forgot what I was so worried about.
As it turned out, I didn’t have anything to worry about, baby-wise. As it turned out too, pregnancy hormones apparently made someone not only crazy, but incredibly horny. I wouldn’t say I didn’t like it (hell, I loved it; as far as I was concerned Ryeowook could stay sex-crazed forever), but between the sexual marathons and the late-night food cravings, I found myself more tired than I ever had been before.
I only wondered why Ryeowook never seemed as exhausted. In fact, he was insatiable, while I was drained - happy, but drained to within an inch of my life. Hankyung-hyung would take pity on me sometimes and come in to feed me cups of coffee on the mornings I couldn’t even get out of bed.
FIFTH MONTH
Once we got the news that our baby was going to be a girl, I braced myself for the expected explosion. It came within two hours of us telling the rest about the baby’s gender.
Sungmin dashed out with Ryeowook the moment we told him and came back a couple of hours later, laden with bags full of baby stuff. I couldn’t believe how much they’d bought. There were clothes, bottles, rattles, toys, blankets, and other things that I didn’t even know the uses for, much less their names. And of course, every last item was pink.
When Sungmin and Ryeowook spread the stuff out on the living room floor, I winced; our dorm now looked like a fluffy pink weapon of mass disaster had exploded all over it, and the colour was beating my brain up.
“Guys,” I said, “what’s with all this?”
Sungmin looked up at me from where he was squealing over a little pink jumper, his eyes very wide and round. “Hyung, you have to start preparing for the baby.”
I sat down gingerly next to Ryeowook, who was cuddling an enormous plushie in the shape of an egg that was truly huge - it was about half his entire body. He looked adorable with it, but I was trying too hard to ignore the mysterious baby things in front of me. “Yes, but do we need this much?”
“Yes!” they both shouted simultaneously, and I jumped. Ryeowook added, “I don’t even think we have enough.”
I gulped. “Ryeowook-ah, aren’t you spending too much already? I mean all these - they must be really expensive, you bought so much.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Ryeowook said cheerfully, giving me a squeeze as he nuzzled his cheek into the egg plushie. “I used your credit card.”
I knew then that the nightmare was only just beginning.
It got worse when the necessities were finally bought and Ryeowook could concentrate on what I called un-necessities, but which he insisted the baby had to have. But somehow, Baby Gucci clothes, Tiffany rattles, and monogrammed baby blankets (all pink, still) didn’t strike me as things that were essential for the baby.
At the end of it all, the credit card bills nearly sent me into cardiac arrest. No one seemed to care, not even Ryeowook; they were all too busy admiring the multitude of expensive pink.
SIXTH MONTH
I’d pretty much gotten into the habit of singing to Ryeowook at all times of the day. If there was one thing all the pregnancy books had taught me, it was that babies liked music. Also, babies apparently could recognize the voices of their parents. I put two and two together and now followed Ryeowook around like a walking radio, belting out Super Junior’s songs at the top of my powerful lungs.
“Shut up, Yesung,” Heechul-hyung snarled at me one day, as I was in the kitchen preparing Ryeowook’s favourite snack of sour cream on dried salted squid. “We’re sick of your voice. This is what, the 28th time you’ve sung ‘Marry U’ today?”
“32nd, actually,” Hyukjae said from opposite him. “I’ve been keeping count.”
“And Ryeowookie isn’t even here, he’s in your bedroom, why the fuck are you still singing?”
I didn’t reply and continued to sing loudly as I picked the plate up, squid arranged nicely around the edges, a careful dollop of sour cream sitting prettily on each piece. Frankly, when Ryeowook had forced one down my throat once, it tasted like shit. But whatever Ryeowook wanted, Ryeowook would get. I wasn’t about to deprive him, my little Ryeowook had turned out to have quite a temper.
Heechul-hyung yelled again. “Yah! Stop fucking singing, moron, he can’t hear you.”
I finally stopped and turned to glare at him. “You’re breaking my rhythm!”
“Good,” Hyukjae said. “Stop singing, hyung. Go back to your room and - and sing there, we can’t take it anymore.”
I tossed my head and marched off. Those idiots wouldn’t know a good singing voice if it hit them naked in the face. I was eager to get back to Ryeowook and my child, where they would appreciate my singing. Sure, my throat was maybe getting hoarse, but it was worth it.
As I headed towards my bedroom, though, I could faintly hear the distinctive voice of Kyuhyun inside. What was he doing in there? my mind wondered as I opened the door.
Ryeowook was lying on our bed, curled on his side, eyes closed and his face wreathed in a small contented smile as Kyuhyun sat on the floor next to him. Kyuhyun was singing 7 Years' Love, his voice rich and smooth as always, if a tad softer than usual, because he'd propped his chin on the bed right next to Ryeowook's stomach and was singing to it.
My mouth moved before my brain did. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
The notes died abruptly as Kyuhyun stopped and looked up. "Hyung! You're back!"
Ryeowook opened his eyes as well, soft and glazed with sleep. "Jongwoon?"
"What - what is this?" I hissed, slamming the plate down on the nearest table and stalking over. Kyuhyun was completely unfazed.
"I'm singing to the baby," he said, grinning. "Ryeowook said the baby likes singing - apparently she stops kicking when someone's singing nearby - so since you were busy I decided to do it."
I reached out with a low growl and grabbed Kyuhyun by the neckline of his shirt, pulling him to his feet. "This is my baby, and I'll be the one doing the singing. Now, get out."
Kyuhyun only smirked at me, his black eyes playful. "But my voice is better than yours, hyung."
"Not fucking true, and you know it," I snapped. "Now get lost, magnae. Go sing to Sungmin and stay away from my Ryeowook."
"Jongwoon," Ryeowook said admonishingly from behind me, and I let go of Kyuhyun's shirt, albeit reluctantly.
Kyuhyun laughed. "Oh, hyung, you’re so possessive, it's almost cute." And before I could yell at being called cute (I'm 26 years old and soon to be a father, for God's sake!) he sauntered out, looking every inch the snarky magnae that he was.
I turned back to Ryeowook. "That snarky magnae," I repeated for good measure as I slumped down next to him, feeling his arms wrap around me. "Remind me why I love him again?"
Ryeowook laughed softly, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Because you just can't help it, no one can resist the magnae."
"Not even you... or the baby, I guess," I said, keeping my eyes downcast. I didn’t want to look up and show Ryeowook the jealousy that was still roiling in my stomach.
Ryeowook merely swept my hair back from my forehead and laughed again. "Silly, she was still kicking like crazy when Kyuhyun was singing, you know." His voice dropped a little lower. "She never kicks when it's you."
SEVENTH MONTH
"What did you say?" Ryeowook shrieked.
"Yes, isn't it amazing! Think about it, Wook-ah. It's the perfect name, it shows how we created something so beautiful and wonderful and it symbolises the both of us combined in our baby!"
Since the baby was due so soon, Ryeowook had decided to call a meeting and ask everyone to help pick names. All 15 of us were currently huddled together in the living room, and Ryeowook had turned down every single suggestion thrown his way. I didn’t blame him; some were frankly stupid (Donghae had suggested Bada, saying that in this way the baby would be close to him), some were not feasible at all (Zhou Mi had suggested a Chinese name), and some were just plain odd (“I’m not naming her after you, Heechul-hyung,” Ryeowook had firmly turned Heechul down).
I’d left my own choice last, believing that Ryeowook would scream for joy and maybe give me a kiss for being so utterly brilliant. I honestly didn't know why the entire room was suddenly silent. What I did know was that the way Ryeowook's face was scrunching up boded nothing good - it meant he was going to cry.
"Ryeowook?" I began hesitantly.
His mouth opened wide - I went completely rigid - and the next moment a loud wail burst out of his throat as his face went red with fury, the sound smacking into me with all the force of a tidal wave.
"I HAAAAAAAATE YOOOOOOOOOOOOU!" he screamed, before getting to his feet clumsily and with difficulty. I jumped up and put my arm around him to support him, but he shrugged me off and glared at me, his eyes streaming with tears that made me panicky.
"Why - Ryeowook, what's wrong?" I gulped, attempting to wipe his tears away, but he knocked my hand away.
"I HAAAAAAAAAATE YOOOOOOOOOOU!" he screamed again - I literally had to take a step back as the high-frequency sound waves buffeted me - and waddled off towards our room huffily, where he slammed the door as loud as he could.
"What - what did I do?" I asked, dumbfounded, as I turned back to the room at large.
Leeteuk simply unfolded himself from Kangin and shot me a glare that was amazingly similar to Ryeowook's.
"Jongwoon, naming your daughter Yewook is not a good idea."
"It's our couple name!" I said.
"It's a stupid name!" Kangin said.
"It signifies our love and togetherness!"
“Hyung,” Henry spoke up timidly, “Think about it, it isn’t - uh, it isn’t a suitable name for a girl, anyway.”
I thought on it for a while. “You’re right,” I finally agreed, and Henry seemed to relax. “Well, what about Ryeowoon? That’s pretty girly, isn’t it, and it’s still us combined - “
The door to my room opened and Ryeowook stuck his head out, still crying. "I don't waaaaaaaaaaaant that!" he screamed, before slamming the door shut again.
I sighed. To be honest, I didn’t really like Ryeowoon much too. Yewook was the perfect name, why couldn't anyone see that? But if Ryeowook didn't want it, I'd give it up in a heartbeat. And I figured, I had another two months to try to change his mind.
Sometime during the month, though, Ryeowook had finally decided on Su Jin, and coerced me into accepting it. Frankly, I didn’t have much of a choice. The combined weapons of tears and sex that Ryeowook wielded constantly were terrifying.
Kim Su Jin didn’t sound half-bad though, I had to concede.
EIGHTH MONTH
With the delivery so near, Ryeowook had decided that all of us needed to learn how to handle babies, so we all ended up in a prenatal class for the month, holding dolls awkwardly and trying not to look sheepish.
It came as no surprise to me that Hankyung-hyung, Ryeowook, and Sungmin were the most able to look after babies. Sungmin, in particular, handled the doll as expertly as if he was already a father of 10, knowing exactly how to diaper and feed it without a single flaw. Ryeowook too, except for that one time where he drove a safety pin right into his doll, did everything perfectly. Hankyung-hyung could be even more motherly than Leeteuk-hyung at times, so watching him dress his doll tenderly was nothing shocking.
The real surprises were Henry, Kyuhyun, Kibum (what was with the magnae line and their brains?) and, of all people, Kangin.
“How’d you learn how to do all this with babies?” I hissed to him quietly one day under the guise of watching how he bathed his doll.
“Look at Teukie, do you think our baby would survive a week if we had one and I was like him?” he hissed back. Good point, I thought. Leeteuk-hyung had managed to drop his doll on the floor eight times today. It was something about his grip, he said; he just didn’t seem to know how to hold a baby.
I felt thankful that Kibum was good at handling the doll, considering how really fucked up Donghae was with it. He’d stuffed the whole doll underwater while bathing it and made it swim around in the small tub, pretending it was a fish. Sometimes, I felt sorry for Kibum, watching as he calmly and expressionlessly cleaned up every last mess left by Donghae.
Hyukjae and Zhou Mi were even worse than Donghae, to be honest. The HyukMi doll was by now reduced to a shapeless mess, thanks to their incompetence, and Ryeowook had sworn never to let them near Su Jin when she was born.
As for myself? I’d dropped the doll, stuck pins into it, drowned it, and suffocated it with its own clothes. I’d also managed to burn a hole into it with a lighter while attempting to burn off a stray thread on the clothes it was wearing. Ryeowook had burst into tears again, then vowed never to let me touch Su Jin, ever.
“I’m her father!” I’d exclaimed, outraged.
“You’re a father who will k-kill her!” he sobbed.
I couldn’t argue with that. So now I was reduced to not even doing anything but watching Kangin and the magnaes so I could “learn from them”. The humiliation, it burned. I wanted to wipe the smirk off Kyuhyun’s face in the worst way possible - like a fist-to-face sort of way.
NINTH MONTH
I had thought I was prepared for months, but when it came, I really wasn’t.
Luckily Ryeowook had been packed and ready for weeks, so he was pretty calm even as I dashed into the living room, howling my lungs out and causing Hyukjae, Sungmin and Kyuhyun to come running out of their rooms. Apparently my shouting could be heard on the 12th floor as well, because soon enough our living room was crowded with bodies and the noise was earsplitting as I tripped over everything and everyone in sight.
“Get Ryeowook down, Jongwoon!” Leeteuk-hyung roared. “I’ll go drive the car up!”
“God, no, Teukie, don’t drive!” Kangin shouted, but Leeteuk-hyung had already whipped out of the door. Kangin barreled after him, presumably to take over the driving - I sincerely hoped he was going to do so.
Kibum took control of the chaos. “Sungmin-hyung, get Ryeowook’s bag,” he ordered, sizing everyone’s abilities up at a glance. “Shindong-hyung, crowd control, get everyone away. Hankyung-hyung, organize everyone into cars after Yesung-hyung leaves with Ryeowook. Kyuhyunnie, you and Hyukjae-hyung go down and clear the area of passersby before Ryeowook gets down. Donghae-hyung, for everyone’s sake, just stay out of the way. Siwon-hyung, take care of Yesung-hyung.”
“Where are you going?” I called, as everyone rushed to follow orders.
Kibum rolled his sleeves up. “I’m going to carry Ryeowook down.” He disappeared into our bedroom and soon reappeared, Ryeowook comfortably ensconced in his arms.
I was about to fling myself on them and tear Ryeowook away from Kibum - hell, if anyone was going to touch Ryeowook, it would have to be me - but Siwon grabbed me and held me back. There was a minute of scuffling as I tried to fight my way out of Siwon’s grip while I hurled obscenities Kibum’s way (“You son of a bitch, stop touching Ryeowook, you’ll hurt him!”)
“Jongwoon, stop fighting with Siwon and move!” Ryeowook managed to shout just as Kibum carried him out of the front door.
“Damn it, that’s my boyfriend!” I yelled, twisting away from Siwon and making a run for the door. “Damn it, Kibum, get back here - Ryeowook, I - ouch!”
My feet tangled themselves up in each other and I fell on my face with a resounding crash. Kibum and Ryeowook didn’t even look back as Siwon came to help me up.
“Hyung, this is why Kibum would rather carry Ryeowook than let you do it,” he said sternly. I was in too much pain to argue when Siwon slung me over his shoulders with surprising strength and brought me downstairs, throwing me unceremoniously into the back of Kangin’s waiting car like a bag of rice.
I honestly didn’t remember much after that. Maybe it was because I was still dazed by my fall. Maybe it was because I was just too panicked. Maybe it was just Kangin going through every red light he came to while Leeteuk-hyung shrieked like a banshee in the front passenger seat. Or maybe it was the mess of people pressed around me at the hospital. In any case, the only thing I remember, very vividly, was the moment a nurse came out and motioned me into the room where Ryeowook was sitting on the bed with a tiny bundle wrapped in pink.
Ryeowook put her into my arms, and I could only stare. There she was, finally. Perfectly formed, from the tips of her hair to her tiny fingers and toes. Thick black hair and long large eyes like mine, pale skin and rose-petal lips like Ryeowook’s.
The first thing I could bring myself to say (my throat suddenly felt like it had closed up) was the word, “Piano.”
“What?’ Ryeowook said.
“I want you to teach her piano,” I said without looking up, still staring at my child, even though she was growing blurry right before my eyes. “I want Henry to teach her violin. I want Hankyung-hyung to teach her ballet. I want Kyuhyun to teach her how to sing. I want Sungmin to teach her martial arts. I want - I want - “
And then I just couldn’t speak anymore, as the tears finally overflowed and spattered on the precious little thing that belonged to me and the person I loved most in the world, but Ryeowook reached over and put an arm around my shoulders and his other hand on Su Jin’s little chest, and I knew he understood everything I was trying to say.