“He had noticed that events were cowards: they didn't occur singly, but instead they would run in packs and leap out at him all at once.”

― Neil Gaiman, Neverwhere

Almost seven years ago

It's a Saturday, three weeks after that Thursday, when Luhan realises that fate isn't working with him.

The jazz club he's ghosting tonight is swallowed in pools of pink and purple and reds here and there, doubled by the cloudy mirrors lining the walls, between the columns at the back of the room.

The place is crowded enough to lose yourself and at the same time, blend in with everyone else, but it's also crowded enough for Luhan to forget that people can look at him without him noticing.

Almost a month has passed since that night at the bar, and Luhan knows that being here probably isn't the best way to rid himself of thoughts of Yoona. It doesn't help that Sehun isn't here to offer him little pockets of gossip that he doesn't really care for; they're more like distractions than things he's actually interested in.

He lets his eyes sweep across the room absentmindedly, eyeballs swivelling slowly, as if succumbing to the dazed sway of the music. Somehow, he ends up looking at the door and almost immediately afterwards wishes he hadn't when he sees a familiar face.

No, Luhan thinks firmly. This isn't real. You're just bullting your brain because Sehun isn't here to do it. That's all.

But when he looks up again, driven by something that he thinks is curiosity but is actually something a little closer to fear, she's still there− Yoona, standing in the doorway.

Her lips are parted a little, hair windblown, almost as tangled as it had been that Thursday night, and she looks like she really wants to say something, like the words are bursting in and dancing on the tip of her tongue, prepared to jump across the space between them and creep into his ears.

He sees her and he thinks of the nights he's spent alone in the past few weeks, not even able to look himself in the eye, regardless how grimy the mirror he's facing is. Not being able to see his reflection clearly hadn't changed the fact that she made him feel worthless, and it doesn't change the fact that he wishes she thought something else of him.

It doesn't change the fact that he's nothing to her.

Luhan gets to his feet the moment she starts making her way through the crowd. He hopes she'll be blinded enough by the mass of bodies to miss the fact that he's walking away from her and not towards her, following her trail from the door backwards.

Half a minute later, Yoona's standing where Luhan was and he's at the door. He can't tell from here whether or not she's angry, but he knows that if it was him, he would be. Her expression adopts a desperate quality, shown in the twisted angle of her features, eyebrows drawn together and upwards. Like she still really wants to say something.

Luhan wants to hear it, but he knows that he shouldn't.

He turns on his heel and walks out of the club.  

*

Forty-three steps later, while he's clenching and unclenching his fists, Luhan's phone starts blaring in his pocket.

It's Sehun. He's going to ask about tonight. Don't answer it. Don't answer it.

But his body moves of its own accord and his fingers fly towards his pocket, bringing the phone up to his ear without checking the screen, just in case his mind overpowers him and reminds him that talking to his brother right now wouldn't be the best idea. "Sehun, now's not the−"

"It's me," the voice on the other end says. 'Me' doesn't have to give a name or explain who they are, because Luhan knows.

"What do you want?"

"We have to talk. Don't make me run after you."

"I'm not going to make you do anything, much less run; I'm not stooping down to your level." The words hurt Luhan as much as they might hurt 'me'. "And I'm going home now, so−"

"Please. I've been looking for you for a week now."

"Looking for me?"

"Like I said. We... have to talk."

*

Eighty-six steps and Luhan's back where he was, sitting at the back of the jazz club, though this time, he's not alone. For a moment, he stands there and stares at her, wondering what it is about her that makes him such a fool, but he doesn't have an answer for himself.

He starts pulling a chair back, but he doesn't even get the chance to start sitting down because Yoona shakes her head, getting to her feet and beckoning for him to follow.

They end up at a little cafe; the sign in the window says 'closed', but the chairs and tables have been left outdoors and Yoona seems to like this setting better than the jazz club.

Luhan doesn't; it's much too quiet. Silence is more vulnerable to being filled with spur of the moment words that can't be taken back, no matter how many sorry's or I didn't mean it's are said.

Yoona has her hands deeply buried in the pockets of her black trench coat, and she still looks like she really wants to say something, but she doesn't open , as if she's waiting for him to speak first.

He clears his throat, observing as she frees her hands from the graves of her pockets, though now they're balled into fists in her lap. "So−"

"I'm pregnant."

Luhan almost chokes and he looks at her, eyes popping because he's pretty sure he heard her wrong.

But she's not looking at him. He follows her lowered gaze and sees her open hand on the table. Sitting on her palm is a white stick, two red lines crossing the centre.

Positive.

His ears black out, and the only thing he can liken the sound in his ears to is the sound of the world crashing. Burning. Exploding into tiny pieces and leaving him deaf.

A minute passes.

Then two.

"You're really...pregnant?" Luhan's voice is a whisper, eyes echoing horror as they stare at her.

Yoona nods wordlessly.

"But..." Luhan thinks back to Thursday. "How?"

"You tell me," she says. He can see that on the outside, she's trying to remain calm and cool, but he knows that she's just as shaken as he is. "Tell me how that says positive."

"How many times did you test?"

She brings out three more sticks, all with the same twin bars. "I took the morning after pill, too," she adds. Her eyes are starting to widen. "We were careful, but..."

Her voice trails off.

Luhan isn't sure he'd describe Thursday night as 'careful', but he knows that this shouldn't have happened. And he knows that of all people, he and Yoona are the last to be gunning for parenthood.

The longer he looks at the pregnancy tests, the louder the sound in his ears gets.

A thought occurs to Luhan and though he feels selfish for thinking it, he has a feeling that someone like Yoona would have no problems with considering it. "Why don't you get an−"

He breaks off when Yoona buries her face in her hands, and he realises that he was terribly wrong.

"An abortion?" The words slip out from between her fingers, both muffled and painfully clear in the silence.

"Yes." His voice is harsh, like blood on ice.

Another minute flies past.

Then two.

And three.

Yoona lifts her face from her hands, the beginnings of tears lining her lower lids. She looks broken, the cracks most obvious in her eyes, like the shattered windows of a glass house.

It's the closest Luhan's ever seen to an outright display of emotion, and it surprises him, but not as much as it scares him. He had thought that anything would be better than her being cold, but he realises now that he was wrong− this Yoona, the one with broken window panes in her eyes, is more terrifying.

He doesn't know what to say, and thankfully, he doesn't need to, because Yoona starts speaking then.

"My mother had an abortion when I was 3," she tells him, her voice like blackstrap molasses, thick and bitter. "She died. That same year, my dad abandoned me and left me in an orphanage."

She looks down at her stomach, and though it's still flat, betraying no sign of a growing child, Luhan can guess what she's thinking. I don't want the same to happen to the baby. I won't kill it, and I won't leave it fatherless.

This vulnerability she's showing both draws him closer to her and makes him want to turn and run away as fast as he can.

"So, what do you want?" Luhan is afraid of the answer. "You want me to raise this child with you?"

She looks at him, long and hard, and it's like in that moment, he hears every word she wants to say, sees pictures of a past life he's not supposed to see.

He sees a lonely girl, sitting on an idle swing, the seat too far off the ground for her toes to reach. He sees stringy locks of hair, fringe kept long and low, and years later, empty boxes of Panadol, the TV blaring in the background of a dark room.

This isn't the life she wants for her child.

His child.

"I want you to be its father." It takes her a long moment to finish. Maybe she's swallowing pride or fear, but Luhan doesn't know. "I'm asking you to marry me."

Something rises in him, either indignation or hurt, or something in between. "What happened to goodbye? What happened to your 'I don't do the whole love thing'?"

"I can't think like that anymore. This isn't about what I feel anymore−"

"Who said you felt anything?"

The stare between them is electric, lasting a few moments before Luhan looks away.

"Feelings are out of the question." She says the thing Luhan knows they're both thinking. "If it makes it easier, don't do this for me. Do it for the baby."

"Can't we−can't this−wait?" Luhan's grasping at straws now, trying to find an exit that doesn't exist.

"You want me to tell this baby to stop growing until you're ready? Because if I could do that, I would, and I can't. I'm just as unprepared as you are, but the world's not going to wait for us."

Luhan knows that. He knows that time doesn't stop or rewind, or even stutter to fix things that shouldn't have happened. He knows that he only has a limited time under these clouds. But up until now, he'd been counting on spending the time running after his dreams.  

Dreams of heading a company, seven figure salaries and days so packed that sips of coffee count as wasted time. Dreams that are slowly slipping through his fingers, like oil, leaving behind the remains of what would have been.

He thinks of now, of the baby in Yoona's stomach. It's in a different direction, a different world, to what he wants. It's not part of his dreams, not part of the path he's running on.

Everyone knows you can't run in two directions at once, but if he does what Yoona wants him to, then it'll be his dreams that he'll be looking back at over his shoulder.

It dawns on him that he's probably never going to live those dreams, that he's never going to be able to attend meetings without worrying that his kids are screaming at home. Kids who are the children of a woman who doesn't even love him. A woman who he means nothing to.

There will be no way out.

It's bad enough that Yoona had already been half-sewn into his tapestry of dreams before this happened.

Luhan looks into Yoona's eyes and sees the shadow of a little girl, abandoned by her parents. He thinks that he shouldn't love her, and that maybe it's too early, but he can't help it.

It's only too bad that this shadow of a girl−who keeps career-ending sticks in the graves of her jacket, white fists clutching them tightly− happens to be the only girl who's ever caught his attention.

It's too bad fate favours her as Luhan's other two thirds (because when Yoona is with him, she seems to claim a part of him just by being there, and so he is only a third for as long as she has cold stares to spare).

Everything is too bad.

He wishes this shadow would love him, and want him for him.

But Luhan knows it's not possible. To this day, all he'll have been to her is a foolish man at the bar, a Thursday night play toy and from this day onward, a father. Not a lover or a husband. Just a father.

Sure, he'll be one. He'll be all those things. But he'll do it for Yoona.

He swallows. "What do I tell my parents?"

"Whatever you have to."

***

The room is all mahogany panels and ceiling to floor mirrors, stiff carpet underfoot. A line of tuxedos hang on a rack in the cavity of the only unpanelled wall in the room; some are white, but most are black, like beads on a monochrome abacus.

Some kind of classical music drifts from a hidden source, floating around the room like strings of bubbles; Luhan finds that if he stands in a certain corner, the music is louder, and two steps away, it sounds fainter than a whisper.

Right now, he's two steps away from that corner, the tune a haunting breath in the background. Sehun's face is close to his as the younger ties the bow around his neck, making slow progress.

Luhan's about to tell Sehun that if he's going to take this long, he may as well tie the bow himself, but Sehun opens his mouth suddenly. For a change, his voice is soft; Luhan isn't sure he likes this change.

"You're making a mistake, hyung."

Hyung. Sehun never uses that word.

He knows what Sehun means by 'mistake'. He means the shaky agreement between soon-to-be biological parents who have only ever been close to each other once, on a Thursday night some few weeks ago. He means the wedding that's being hastily planned, the wedding that's brought them to this fitting room.

The word stirs some kind of hidden anger in Luhan. He steps away from his brother. "Mistake?" he repeats. "You were the one who made me talk to her in the first place. God damn it, Sehun, now that I think about it, you have no right telling me that, because if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here, doing this!"

Sehun, as always in this yelling, shouting kind of situation, stays calm. He knows that Luhan's temper escalates quickly; he's used to it. "I didn't think things would end up like this."

"Well, I didn't, either!"

"Yelling's not gonna do you any good, hyung." Sehun's voice is a whisper now, moving towards a lower low as Luhan's temper rises to a higher high. "She's going to leave you someday. Someone like Yoona... she'll make you feel like she needs you now, but someday she won't need you anymore, and she'll leave."

"Who are you to say things like that about her?" Luhan demands. "You don't know her. You said so yourself. Distantly, you said." He doesn't mention that Yoona had said the same thing.

"I don't know her, but I know people like her. Hell, I probably know her better than she knows herself. She's broken. She doesn't know what she wants, and she's clutching onto whatever life gives her, because it's all she has."

Sehun's starting to lose it a little, too; he takes a second to calm himself, cooling his gaze. "Someday, she's gonna break you, too, and when that happens, I'll have to pick up the shards of your heart so you can keep it together for your kid. That's if she doesn't take it−the kid− with her."

Luhan swallows. "What are you saying?"

"Tell her to find someone else. Someone who wants to take care of a child the way you can't." Sehun peers into Luhan's eyes. "Do you want this kid?"

Luhan wants to say no, because it's true. But he wants Yoona, and she comes with the child. When he really thinks about it, the child comes first and Yoona second, because he knows there'd be no hope in hell for him if he wanted it the other way around.

***

"Who's writing your vows?"

Luhan shrugs, though he knows Sehun won't see it. "Yoona's organising the whole thing. She hasn't told me anything."

He hears the hissing sound of Sehun's strained exhale on the other end of the line. "You can't do this."

"I have to."

"You don't. You can't throw your life away. God and I know you're doing this for her, and not the kid."

"Just because I'm doing this for her doesn't mean that I won't look after the child," Luhan says. "I'll...come to love it. It's mine, too. You know, maybe this can be my life."

"Bull."

"Don't 'bull' me, Sehun. Think about this as if you were in my place. What would you do?"

"I'd make sure she has someone who could do a better job than I ever will and go back to living my life."

Well, that would be easier if you weren't attracted and possibly in love with the person who's carrying your child. "Really, Sehun. You're overreacting. This is my choice."

"Yes, it's your choice, and it's insane. You've known her for what, two weeks?

"Four. Technically," he says. Known of her. Distantly. Like a mountain.

"You think four weeks is enough to know somebody?"

"You think any number of weeks will ever tell you everything about a person?" Luhan sighs; it cracks in the air, a weary sound. "Listen, Sehun. We're done talking about this. I'm going to marry her, and I'll look after this kid and pretend that it's what I've always wanted. Who knows, maybe I'll find that it won't be so bad."

Silence for a moment. "I'm warning you now, Luhan: when the preacher asks the guests to speak now or forever hold their peace, I'm not going to hold my peace."

"You can't hold peace, Sehun. You can only make it."

***

A week later: June 20

Luhan supposes he shouldn't be nervous, but he is, even though the total amount of people in front of him leave more seats empty than taken. Even though this is pretty much just a show.

In the front row are Luhan's parents, who are thrilled (albeit a little taken aback by the sudden announcement he'd made last week, introducing them to a woman they've never even heard about before), though the same cannot be said about Sehun, who is standing beside him on the steps of the altar, adjusting the lapels of his suit with a dead face.

Kris is standing by the entrance of the church, ready to show any latecomers their seats, though by the looks of it, pretty much everyone is here. The people in the pews are either friends of Luhan's or Yoona's (though there are less of them). The only missing face is Yuri, who is helping Yoona get ready.

Finally, it's time. A melody Luhan can't name (did he even have a say in choosing this song?) starts playing, brought to life by Luhan's friend, Yixing, who's playing pianist for the day.

Yuri dances through first, holding a pale pink bouquet at waist-level and flashing a stationary smile through peach lips and white teeth. She projects the image of ignorance, turning a blind eye and pretending that this is a wedding between two people who love each other. She knows the truth of course: Yoona is pregnant, and her child needs a father.

Luhan's breath hitches as another figure appears in the door, and he realises that he's really not ready for this.

His father appears first, Yoona's arm looped through his as he guides her through the entrance. He had insisted on doing this when he'd found out that Yoona was an orphan, and after shooting down every one of Luhan's protests, he'd gotten his wish.

Luhan doesn't quite understand why his father is taking it upon himself to give away someone else's daughter, but then again, his father doesn't know the truth, and that's probably a good enough excuse.

It takes Luhan a moment to muster up the courage to slide his eyes towards Yoona and another moment to realise that he could never have kept his eyes away for long.

Gardenias and pearls dance in Yoona's hair, sweeping through curls that blur into soft locks behind her veil. Her face is obscured, eyes lowered, and he thinks that it's just as well, because he's close to forgetting how to breathe as it is without making eye contact.

Spanning her shoulders is a transparent sort of fabric and lower down, decorating the bodice, are little patterns, detailed in curves of sparkles and gems and silvery lines. The rest of her dress starts at the base of her waist, where intricate patterning and tight fabric turns into waves of satin and tulle, ending in a subtle train.

He wonders if he's ever seen anything more beautiful.

His heart stutters, but it's less of a swoop and more like a stab in the gut.

She's not here for me.

*

It comes to the part of the ceremony where the priest could have said something along the lines of: If anyone present objects to this marriage let them speak now or forever hold their peace.

But the line isn't said, and when that happens, Luhan turns his head slightly, eyes catching the gaze of his brother.

Sehun shakes his head. You're making a mistake.

*

"Lu Han, do you take Im Yoona as your lawfully wedded wife, to live in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love, honour, comfort, and cherish her from this day forward, forsaking all others, keeping only unto her for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do." His reply is firm. I really do.

The preacher turns to Yoona, whose eyes are making an impressive effort to hold Luhan's in their gaze. "And do you, Im Yoona, take Lu Han as your lawful wedded husband, to live in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love, honour, comfort, and cherish him from this day forward, forsaking all others, keeping only unto him for as long as you both shall live?"

Half a beat's silence.

"I do."

When they kiss, Luhan knows that their vows are just empty words, made to string together desperate solutions to problems that chose to appear at the wrong time in their lives.

But maybe, just maybe, a small part of him hopes that she'd meant her "I do."

***

2 weeks later

Moving into their new house is an affair that involves a lot of heaving of weighty furniture, stress and late nights on Luhan's part, because these days, Yoona is looking unusually pale and tired, and he can't bring himself to even think about asking her to help him.

It takes two days to load all their belongings into the house on his own and another day to arrange everything to Yoona's taste, pushing the couch to various places against the wall and installing new light bulbs because she says the lights are too harsh on her eyes.

The late hours of the evening are also dedicated to tending to her every need. One night, she's shivering like crazy and begs him to put his arms around her because she swears it feels like winter, even though it's the middle of summer.

So he does, just for this one night, pulling her as close as possible to his body and rubbing his hands down her arms, hoping it helps. Her lips are pale and chapped and he wants to do something about that, too, but she doesn't ask, so he stays where he is, jaw pressed against her temple.

Eventually, her shivers subside a little and he stops rubbing her arms. Her breathing seems to have evened out and he risks a glance down, peering down at her face.

She's asleep.

His breath shakes her delicate, spidery lashes, crawling across her cheekbones and disturbing strands of her baby hairs.

Luhan hasn't ever seen her like this before, with this kind of unguarded expression, sleep softening the sharp angles that usually set her features. There's even a little smile curving her lips. She looks as tired as he feels, shadows of pale grey curving crescents of colour under her eyes, like faint bruises.

Once or twice she stirs, murmuring something that he can't discern, and a frown ridges her brow. He smooths it away gently with his thumb, letting it trail down her face and linger on her cheek, tracing little circles near her jaw.

She shivers a little and he withdraws his hand, placing it on her arm once again and giving it a little squeeze, as if to distantly reassure her that he's still here.

It hurts more than he'll admit, being this close and knowing that he's still so far, and that in the morning, he'll have to smile and pretend that he's okay.

For tonight, though, Luhan tells himself that he can forget it all. Just for tonight. He holds her closer, bending down to press a kiss to her temple.

***

Luhan wakes up to an empty bed; the sound of retching and the contents of Yoona's stomach splashing against sink in the kitchen floats to his ears from down the hall. It's the fourth morning in a row this week, and he knows there'll be more of it later in the day. Maybe even after breakfast.

"Yoona?"

He edges around the half closed door, shutting it behind himself. He sees that Yoona's got her hands braced in sturdy positions, one clutching the bench and the other glued to the tap handle, knuckles white against the metal.

Luhan sighs, coming up behind her and gathering all her hair in one hand, holding it back and away from her face. His other hand pats her back gently.

"Done?"

She nods shakily and is about to wipe with the heel of her hand, but Luhan shakes his head, offering her a tea towel. Yoona takes it silently, mopping up her face.  

"You need to see your OB/GYN, Yoona. This isn't normal."

Yoona gives him something that looks like a bitter smile, but might actually be a grimace. "All pregnant women throw up."

"They don't, actually. I looked it up," he admits. "What did your OB/GYN say last time?"

"She said to come in at 12 weeks if it gets worse," Yoona says, hobbling over to the table. He's noticed that her stomach is starting to look larger and wonders if he should be shocked at the fast development. "Earlier, if necessary."

"I'll schedule an appointment for today, then."

She scowls. "I'm fine, Luhan."

"You call this fine?" Luhan demands. "You're practically a zombie on your feet every minute of the day, and there isn't much you can eat without puking. I think our baby needs more than plain crackers and clear broth."

"It's just for now."  Yoona shuffles uncomfortably, realising that she's her argument's credibility is reaching its end. "It might go away."

Luhan inhales deeply, looking at her thoughtfully. After a moment, he says, "Okay, here's my deal. We'll go and see your OB/GYN today and if it's all fine, then I won't force you to go to another appointment if you don't want to. How about that?"

Yoona grumbles and grunts out a reply that might have been yes; Luhan takes it as a yes, anyway.

"Better safe than sorry."

She ignores him.

***

Luhan leans forward, having just finished detailing Yoona's symptoms to her OB/GYN. "Is this normal?"

"I have a few suspicions, but they're not bad," the doctor says. "We'll take her in for an early prenatal ultrasound to make sure everything is going well. I'll be on hand just in case I need to explain anything."

She then asks Yoona to go home and fill her bladder (3-4 glasses of water an hour before the appointment; don't go to the toilet. A full bladder moves the uterus higher up and makes the baby easier to see).

An hour later, they're at the ultrasound clinic, and Yoona keeps telling Luhan through gritted teeth that she needs to pee. All he does is squeeze her hand (which is clutching his so tightly, fingernails digging into his knuckles), because he knows that it's just her way of relieving her stress. If he's honest, he's no better than her; his insides are twisting with anxiety.

It's not the kind of anxiety other parents-to-be feel; theirs is tinged with anxiety of the bad variety, taunting them with unanswered questions. Luhan feels like he's walking in the dark, and Yoona's fingernails abusing his knuckles are the only thing that keeps him conscious.

They're led into a darkened room and Yoona is asked to sit in an awkward position somewhere between lying down and sitting up. She closes her eyes as she slides her shirt upwards to reveal her stomach.

To Luhan's surprise, she keeps a tight hold on his hand.

Yoona's OB/GYN takes a seat next to Luhan, giving both of them a reassuring smile. It doesn't help. If anything, her being there makes Luhan even more nervous.

A gel-like substance is spread across Yoona's stomach (Helps to carry the sound waves to and from the transducer, the ultrasonographer says, indicating the probe-like device in her hand). Yoona's fingers tense for a moment.

"It's cold," she whispers.

Luhan smiles a little; for a moment, she's just like any other first-time mother.

The ultrasonographer asks Yoona to lie very still and she nods, eyes still shut, with her fingers still tightly woven through Luhan's.

Luhan becomes her eyes, watching as the transducer is probed across her belly, manipulated and twisted at different angles. The picture on the screen flickers, the outline resembling a white lampshade, and the shapes in the middle are−

Yoona's OB/GYN gasps. "It's what I suspected," she breathes.

Luhan squints at the screen, trying to make sense of the blobs in the photo. Yoona's eyes are still determinedly pinched together, but she gives Luhan's hand a squeeze. "What is it?"

Her OB/GYN turns to the both of them, pointing at the two little ovals, side by side, in the image. "Twins."

***

A/N: Ehm... Not the best chapter, I know. Sorry for the long wait ^^;; Oh, and OB/GYN = Obstetrician/Gynecologist. Like a baby doctor/deliverer.