“You okay, Hyung?” Kyungsoo asks as he hears Jongin let out a pained groan.

Jongin nods and rubs his swollen stomach. “Yeah. I just think your sister’s training to be a football player and using my organs for practice.”

“Do you need anything? Do you want me to call your doctor?” The 12-year-old had proved to be very helpful since he was told that he had another half-sibling on the way. Whenever Chanyeol was busy with photo shoots and magazine spreads, Kyungsoo was there as much as he could to make sure Jongin had everything he needed.

“Nah, I think I’ve been driving her up the wall.” Jongin’s sure his doctor must hate him for the number of times he calls her a month. To his defense, this was his first biological child, so it should be expected that he would freak out occasionally. Chanyeol’s been in the same boat too, as he wasn’t very involved in Baekhyun’s pregnancy, and the little he learned back then had faded over twelve years.

Honestly, even though they completely planned on the baby, Jongin still feels much too young, even at 26. But he’s been with Chanyeol since he was 19, and he was finally gaining some fame with his photography, so they were 100 percent emotionally and financially ready, but maybe he would be mentally ready closer to this due date.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off at Minseok’s house?” Jongin hurries across the kitchen as he packs plenty of snacks. At five months, he’s been able to hide his pregnancy with coats and briefcases, but it seemed liked he suddenly popped over the weekend, and he’s sure that those suspicious glances at his stomach will turn into actual acknowledgment.

Kyungsoo nods and pulls a baggie of snacks out of Jongin’s bag to show him. “Yeah, I can walk. And did you forget you packed snacks last night?”

Jongin lets his hands drop by his sides as he stares at Kyungsoo. “Seriously, I don’t think I could survive this without your help.” He sighs and gets a water bottle from the fridge. “I forget most things these days. Speaking of which, don’t let me forget to pick you up again.”

“And don’t work too hard.” Kyungsoo hugs his stepdad then leaves out the front door to walk to Minseok’s house.

Jongin can’t help but smile to himself as he thinks about how well everything just fit into place. He can’t even fathom while he ever felt so nervous about marrying Chanyeol because from the day they met, Kyungsoo has shown nothing but love for his new dad.

After making sure he has everything, Jongin heads to the location he picked out previously to try to get a few quality photos. These days, with his pregnancy, he hasn’t been able to set up all his equipment as easily or develop his pictures without breathing in the fumes, so he had to find a temporary assistant, who wasn’t the most reliable, but he did good work. Predictably, his assistant isn’t at the location at the time they agreed on, so Jongin takes the opportunity to sit for a few minutes and snack.

“You’re late,” is the first thing he says when his assistant, Taemin, pulls up 20 minutes after they agreed to meet. “What’s your excuse this time?”

Taemin at least as the decency to look apologetic as he unloads the lights from Jongin’s car. “Sorry. I stayed up late last night.”

“And I haven’t slept through the night since I got pregnant, but I’m on time aren’t I? Please take this seriously, Taemin.” Taemin gives his mentor a small bow and continues to set up the equipment as Jongin instructs him. The teenager’s in the same situation as Jongin was when he first came to China: barely nineteen and wanting to train under someone with credibility. There are dark circles under his eyes, which makes Jongin feel a little bad for scolding him. He makes a mental note to take Taemin to get some lunch after they finished.

Just a few minutes into actually taking pictures, Jongin decides to move a little further down the path they’re on. They’re in an area that is mostly void of people; not surprisingly so since the area seems to have been abandoned long ago. The buildings are completely gutted and the roads are cracked and surround by unkempt grass. Lately, he’d been working on a series of how the richest and the poorest lived around China. So often the media portrayed the middle class, so he wants to juxtapose the two extremes.

Taemin lets out a quiet sigh as he starts to take down all the lights to put back into the car. Jongin can’t blame him; he remembers having to haul equipment up steep hills when his mentor couldn’t be bothered to take the car. The least he can do is help him out.

He’s just standing at the back of his car, putting the camera back in the bag when he hears Taemin let out a panicked “Hyung!” Jongin has no time to see what Taemin is so distressed about because almost immediate, he feels a sharp pain on the back of his head as he’s struck with something heavy. His legs buckle under him, but even in his shocked state, he’s careful not to fall forward on his stomach. He grips the lip of the trunk to control his fall slightly and settles himself to the ground.

“Give me the keys!” There’s no need to question what’s going on because the object being pressed in between his shoulder blades is unmistakable. Later on when thinking back, Jongin will remember how nervous his assailant sounds, but at the moment he’s terrified and can barely concentrate on anything but the blood rushing through his head.

“I-I don’t ha-have them,” he stammers out. He’s having an increasingly difficult time concentrating on the situation as his head is throbbing and his stomach is feeling tight.

The gun is pressed harder against his back. “Don’t lie to me!”

Jongin shakes his head, which makes him incredibly dizzy. “I don’t have them. Taemin, give him the car keys. Don’t do anything stupid and just give him the keys.” Behind him he can hear Taemin fumbling for the keys in the pocket of his jeans. The pressure on his back lets up slightly as Jongin assumes the man is reaching out for his car keys. He can’t really pay attention to everything that’s happening because the tight feeling in his stomach is starting to become an ache. He shifts his weight to one side so he can put a hand on his stomach, but unfortunately, this movement frightens his assailant. He doesn’t even hear the gun go off; he just feels an explosion of pain and then the world turns black.

Oh hey.