When we were brave

Yifan and Sehun

"...cowardly, irresponsible s.” Yifan is muttering angrily under his breath, peeling the plastic off of the tenth pregnancy test.  After the first one he only tried — because it was just a thought, just a passing thought — came back positive to his all of a sudden shaking grasp, he didn't even care anymore, marching to the front of the pharmacy with the entire rack of twelve or so "early warning" tests early warning, like that's early enough when it's already too late and glared at the cashier who was red in the face and stammering as she rang him through, dropping one test on the floor which Yifan didn't even wait for as he stormed out into the cold December air, his breath visible in an angry cloud in front of his face.

Now he's in the bathroom, plastic pregnancy tests all showing positive cast aside in an abandoned heap of blue and white like the tangled limbs of casualties — Yifan isn't going to kill him, he reallly isn't, he loves his boyfriend to pieces but — the tenth test is aready waiting on the edge of the porcelain bathtub and he's opening the wrapping of the last one, the eleventh one, eleven minutes to midnight, and he's shaking by now he's so scared. He makes a mess of things and he doesn't care, the tenth one goes blue like a sign of evacuation please pull your escape cords now and he's just staring at the eleventh one now. Staring. It's the longest moment of his life.

Blue.

It's almost a relief to know except it isn't, it really isn't, and after one dizzying moment, the last test falling from his suddenly weak grasp, he turns and empties out the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

That's where Sehun finds him, opening the door after a long day at work shooting pictures of models but mostly organizing and discussing and complaining about camera equipment and shoddy use of photoshop.

The lights are still off in the apartment from where they are on the 45th floor, the living room lit only by the lights of the skyscrapers across the river, and Yifan can hear Sehun's confused scrabbling around the wall for the light switch.

"Yifan?"

Yifan only manages to swallow. His mouth is sour and he knows he should get up off the floor. He's not a baby — oh God, I'm going to have a baby — he's once again hanging over the toilet, forehead resting on the cold surfact of the sink. He dry heaves into the toilet, the sound punctuated by Sehun dropping his bag on the floor and running over to the bathroom door in his shoes — Yifan doesn't even care about the mud on the parquet right now — he's looking at the floor in the dark and the light goes on and he blinks.

Everything is white.

Sehun kneels down on the floor and gathers him up in his arms, long bony arms and legs folding up and Yifan isn't going to cry at the relieved comfort he feels, his cold fingers wrapping around Sehun's warm hands. He really isn't.

He cries all over his younger boyfriend's shirt, snot and tears smearking all over the white cotton knit. Sehun doesn't say anything, only looks around the bathroom at the mess it's in, cellophane and cardboard and platic dotted with blue, and Yifan hears him take in a startled breath.

And then Sehun is shifting so that he can put one hand on each side of his overwhelmed boyfriend's face and look him in the eyes and say,"I'm here. And I'm sorry this happened because I know we didn't even talk about this and you probably hate me right now and nothing I can say right now will fix this but I just need to tell you that I love you, okay?"

And Yifan swallows one final sob, a last tear leaking down one cheek, and nods. Because somehow that was the exact right thing for Sehun to say.

Sehun helps him to his feet and pulls him gently over to where he takes his older boyfriend's clothes off, folds him into his fuzziest totoro pajamas and tucks Yifan into their king-sized bed, the flannel sheets warm and soft on his skin. You're going to be the best dad, the thought drifts idly through his head as he can hear the sounds of Sehun cleaning up the mess in the bathroom before coming back to slip into bed and wrap his arms warmly around him. Yifan nestles into his warmth.

He can always kill him in the morning.

The title is from the text written in the caption box of Nell's new mv for Green Nocturne.