Jongin ed Kyungsoo just as the elder wished—slow, passionate, and rough. It was the perfect balance of all of Kyungsoo’s demands and the fact that Jongin enjoyed to e in every area of their shared apartment that was the perfect cherry on top for both of them. On top of the desk, in their shower, or even inside the walk in closet, Kyungsoo loved it all. Jongin knew where and when to roughly in order to make Kyungsoo into a mewling mess.

 

After their love sessions ended, Jongin enjoyed kissing Kyungsoo’s face and massaging aloe vera into the thighs marked with bites. Once Kyungsoo was pampered enough, he would fall asleep with a small smile and cling onto Jongin’s warm body. These moments always made Jongin fall just a little more in love. Jongin always promised himself to never let Kyungsoo go because Kyungsoo was his dream come true.

 

“Good night, Soo. You’re my little moon.”

 

“And you’re my sun, Jongin.”

 

 

Everything changed the day Kyungsoo walked into the apartment covered up in various layers of jackets with a deep blush on his round pale cheeks. Jongin sat his boyfriend down carefully and immediately brought various cold medicines and blankets. “Hyung, do you feel okay?”

 

Jongin was in the middle of his chemistry lab when he received a worrisome message from Kyungsoo. It read, don’t feel so well. I just want to go home and sleep. Jongin read the message a hour later and panicked when Kyungsoo didn’t pick up. Jongin could only rush home and await for the arrival of his little boyfriend.

 

Kyungsoo calmly rejected all the medicines Jongin offered him but gladly accepted the wool blanket. Kyungsoo deeply breathed in the scent of Jongin through the blanket and smiled to himself. He enjoyed Jongin’s clean scent.

 

“Can you bring me hot chocolate and a pickle?” he asked with a hesitant smile on his beautiful face.

 

Jongin froze at the odd request, a pickle? Where was he even supposed to find a pickle, this is South Korea not America. The moment Jongin told Kyungsoo that he didn’t know where to find a pickle, Kyungsoo threw the wool blanket back at Jongin and began sobbing hysterically.

 

“All I want is a pickle!” he shouted and Jongin cowered in fear. Damn, Kyungsoo could be demanding. Kyungsoo rarely got sick so Jongin was not accustomed to Kyungsoo’s sick moods. He silently begged that Kyungsoo would never get sick again. Jongin then took Kyungsoo’s hand and internally sighed when Kyungsoo didn’t smack him.

 

“Soo, it’s just a pickle?” he asked wearily.

 

Kyungsoo sniffled then looked down at his hands. “If you can’t even bring me a pickle, how could I expect you to take care of our child?”

 

Jongin stared confused at his boyfriend. How do pickles correlate with raising a child? Wait what did Kyungsoo even mean by ‘our child?’

 

Jongin’s eyes widened at the realization and stared blatantly at Kyungsoo’s stomach. Kyungsoo became flustered at the attention and covered his stomach and looked away.

 

“Hyung… is there a baby in there?” he timidly asked with an open mouth. Kyungsoo pouted and twiddled his fingers. Then, he suddenly reached inside his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper that was once ripped but taped back together. Jongin immediately recognized it as a sonogram.

 

“I fainted while in Economics so Baekhyun rushed me to the hospital. They did some tests and viola… I’m pregnant. I ripped the paper because I didn’t want to believe but then I realized that it’s my child… our child.”

 

Jongin didn’t say anything which only caused Kyungsoo to become more restless. Kyungsoo wanted to cry again, but he really was craving a pickle. “J-Jongin?”

 

Jongin sighed and took a deep breath. This wasn’t supposed to happen—he didn’t even know Kyungsoo could carry a child?! Only 1% of all men could get pregnant, how could Kyungsoo fall into that rare category? If he had known…

 

“Jongin?” Kyungsoo repeated once again, this time feeling bile come up his throat. The doctor told him he would feel all the classic symptoms of pregnancy, and they were coming sooner than expected.

 

“You can think about this later, but I need you to get the out of my way!”

 

And with that, Kyungsoo lept up and pushed Jongin aside as he ran to the bathroom. The sounds of hurling soon filled their shared dorm. Jongin stood there with his mouth open as he saw Kyungsoo vomit and cough.

 

His caused that. A part of him was proud but the other was scared for his life and future. How was he supposed to raise a child when he can’t find a pickle!

 

 

[10 months later]

 

“It’s not fair.”

 

Jongin giggled at his husband’s remark. The 3 month old boy was staring at his parents from the crib and it was evident with every passing day that the baby was a spitting image of Jongin.

 

“I carried him for 8 months and he doesn’t even look like me!” Kyungsoo complained, crossing his arms while staring at his hubby.

 

“Well, my is quite good you see,” Jongin cheekily responded. Before Kyungsoo could complain once again, Jongin grabbed his hand and planted a kiss on the ring Jongin proposed with.

 

“He might look like me but he certainly has your anger issues.”

 

“Jongin!”

 

“Byeol, sleep so your daddies can give you a little sister.”

 

“I will not argue to that,” Kyungsoo smiled before tiptoeing and kissing the man he loved.

 

***extra***

Jongin bit his lip as he ignored the stares of the group of high school girls. He can’t believe they followed him! After graduating with a degree in chemistry, Jongin took on a job at the local high school as a chemistry teacher.

 

As a result, every girl had a crush on him and he dreaded going into class every day. But he can’t believe they followed him into the mall! And into the jewelry store nonetheless.  

 

“Sorry for the wait sir, what can I help you with today?”
 

Jongin shyly scratched his cheek and pointed to a ring on display. “Can you wrap this up? I am proposing soon,” he nervously stated.

 

The attendant sincerely smiled and pulled out the ring for Jongin to view firsthand. “It’s a lovely ring.”

 

After Jongin held it in his hand and imagined it on a smaller paler hand, he knew it was the one. “Yes, it’s the one.”