Jongin is a creature of habit.

She wakes up every morning, giving herself several minutes of peaceful quiet before rolling out of her warm bed and padding to the bathroom.  On weekends she lingers - allowing the tranquility of no responsibilities to lull her into a trance.   But today is Monday and even if she loves her job, getting her in gear is sometimes a hassle.

Routine helps.

It’s routine that keeps her body occupied as she slowly awakens.  Jongin can get herself dressed, teeth brushed and hair untangled - all while the aroma of coffee is floating through her apartment, tantalizing her senses until the moment she’s able to take her first sip.  Coffee was somewhat of an acquired taste for Jongin, a necessary evil when she was in college. But now she enjoys the bitter aftertaste and the warmth it spreads through her limbs.  The caffeine doesn’t hurt.

She never has the time to finish an entire mug of coffee, but she always tries - only conceding when the clock ticks ever closer to nine.  The pink piggy mug gets set in the sink alongside the princess one she’d used the morning before.  On a usual Monday, she’d have three mugs accumulated by the time she rushed out the door, but there are only two today.  She pauses, a smile passing over her lips before she remembers herself. Cursing at the time, she makes a grab for her purse and her phone before finally slipping on her shoes.

The door clicks shut behind her and Jongin is off to work, mostly prepared for the day.  The sidewalks aren’t as packed at this time; most people have to be in by eight and Jongin is thankful that she doesn’t have to deal with the bustling crowds so early.  It also means there are shorter lines in her favorite coffee shop on the corner.  She spares enough time to buy the special brew for the day - which is as adventurous as she usually gets - before walking the next few blocks to the office.

Jongin stops in front of a small space nestled comfortably between a hairdresser and a traffic lawyer, admiring the dark and light purple striped awning and the logo printed on the window - Happiness Delight Advertising Firm.  Beside it, there’s a doodle done in glass markers that she made during a slow afternoon the week before.  Someone’s seen fit to add multi-colored hats to the dancing acorns Jongin had drawn and she smiles.  She’d been tempted to do something new for the week, but she likes it.

A bell tinkles when she opens the door with her hip, slipping inside the already occupied office.  Jongin is never the first one there; that role is filled by Yixing who is now flitting from behind the main counter and toward the back, her shoes already abandoned and her tablet pen behind her ear.  Jongin would call Yixing a workaholic simply because of how long she stays in the office, but Jongin knows better.  Yixing is dedicated, but she has an entire life outside these walls.

“Morning,” Yixing chirps when she reappears, a bright yellow sundress lighting up the room and an equally eye catching ribbon holding her hair up in a high ponytail.  Her arms are full of papers and she teeters forward before catching herself and Jongin lets out the breath she’d been holding.

“How was your weekend?” Jongin inquires, circling the long counter in the front to get to her small desk which lay behind it.  Jongin scoots her purse underneath and takes another swallow of her coffee before putting it down.

“Amazing!” Yixing calls from where she’d disappeared into the back again.  Jongin pokes her head around, taking in Yixing’s slight form which was bent over, digging through the old file boxes.  Everything is backed up on the server electronically, but Yixing is adamant that every little piece of paper, every drawn out concept and all the drafts until final design are kept.  Just in case.  “And yours?”

Jongin is smiling again, a bubble in her stomach as she remembers being dragged out of her usual Friday night activities - lounging on her best friend’s couch while gorging on chicken and beer - and getting dragged to a bar.  It was entirely not her scene, but she’d let the atmosphere seep into her skin and pull her along until she was falling into bed with a man she’d just met.  And she abso-frikkin-lutely does not regret a thing.

“Great,” Jongin finally answers when she realizes Yixing has abandoned her quest in favor of staring at her in question.

“Does Great have a name?” Yixing inquires, clearly amused.  Yixing had been there, of course, had been the one to pout at Jongin until she relented and allowed Yixing to dress her in the tightest pair of jeans she’d ever worn and slapped a low-cut top on after - her hands cupping Jongin’s s to push them up and show what she was working with.

“I’m sure he does,” Jongin chuckles.  The man in question had made it clear up-front that he was only in town for the weekend and that had suited Jongin just fine.  He was no less attractive and she was no less inclined to take on something temporary that wouldn’t hinder the life she already had laid out.

Habit and routine.

“Usually Great is worth getting a name from.  Possibly a phone number for recurring greats,” Yixing teases.

Jongin shrugs,  “No need to spoil the memory.”  She’d woken up in a hotel, wrapped up in more expensive sheets than she owned, aching in places she hadn’t remembered could ache and feeling pleasantly content.  It was out of character - something she’d never done before, but Jongin felt so relieved. So much tension released from finally getting laid after such a long dry spell.

With habit and routine comes a fear of dating.  Jongin doesn’t want someone coming into her life and throwing everything she has - all her comforting patterns - into chaos.  So he had been just the right tangle in the thread and now she can keep to her life without any fear of it being ruined.  Yixing knows of Jongin’s aversion to dating and doesn’t understand, but she tries. And the placating pat on the head she gives Jongin is enough.  The subject is dropped.

Yixing goes back to her searching and Jongin slips off to her desk, pulling out several drafts she’s working on.  Happiness Delight Advertising Firm is a small shop that offers personalized designs and logos for flyers, notepads, stationery, business cards, and other assorted merchandise geared toward advertising for the smaller businesses in the area.  Jongin is the one who creates the logos and other art for the client, usually from their specifications.  Luckily, she doesn’t have to polish them because it’s Yixing’s job to take Jongin’s concepts and render them on a computer, designing several drafts for the client to choose from.

The final piece to their well-oiled machine is Chanyeol.  He’s the one who had come up with the idea for the business when they were all still in college.  And it’s through his persistence and dedication and remarkable people skills that they were able to actualize it.  It’s also Chanyeol who goes out and draws clients in - wheeling and dealing with all the gritty business details that give Jongin a headache.

Between the three of them, they’ve built a steady client base that’s expanding slowly enough for them to keep up, without having to worry about hiring anyone else.  It’s a relaxed atmosphere and Jongin thrives in it.

Chanyeol shows up a few minutes after Jongin’s settled in, smelling like he brought half a donut shop with him.  Her suspicions are confirmed when he sets a familiar white and orange box down on her desk.  Jongin eyes it warily before flicking her gaze up at Chanyeol.  “What did you do?”

Chanyeol’s face scrunches, one eye nearly closing and his mouth twisting.  It’s wholly unattractive and Jongin is unaffected even if he looks like a kicked puppy.  “I may have suggested - in a drunken stupor - that tiny little stuffed bears with the Toymaker logo would be good for business and now we need a design.”

Jongin blinks at him, scowling, “We just finished their flyers last week.”

“And now we’re doing teddy bears!” he exclaims, far too brightly, radiating false bravado.  “I already found a place to make the bears for us.  We just need the design.”

When Jongin sighs, Chanyeol knows he’s won.  And it’s not as if it’s much work.  It was just unexpected on top of the other things she’s working on for the week.  “I need to know what they-”  Chanyeol slaps a napkin on Jongin’s desk and she stares at the hastily written, barely discernible chicken scratch.  “Want,” she finishes weakly, picking up the napkin.

“Hey Yixing!” Chanyeol bellows, walking off to find the other woman.  “I’ve got donuts!” he announces.

Yixing’s head pops out from the back a second later, “What did you do?”

It’s a little after six when Jongin gets home.  She toes off her shoes, fishes her phone out of her purse and flops down on her couch, legs over the arm with her eyes closed.  She ends up pulling the two pens out of her hair that had been holding it up. Her hair falls in her face often enough now for her to get frustrated by early afternoon and pin it back, usually using office supplies to keep it together.  She has a stash of pens by the door that she always forgets to take back to work despite her best intentions.  (There’s an unopened package of hair ties at the office, left neglected in her office drawer, that Chanyeol had bought her once.  He’s probably docking her pay for office supplies at this point.)

As far as Mondays go, this one had been pretty tame.  Even with Chanyeol adding another thing to her to-do list, Jongin hadn’t been rushed, hadn’t had to move from her desk, except to stretch.  She spent most of the afternoon draped over the front counter, scribbling down notes and making quick sketches for a new project as Chanyeol intercepted anyone who walked in the door before they could disturb her.  When Jongin gets into the right mindset, she’s oblivious to everything else.

By the end of the day, she had a few workable poses for Yixing to play with and a handful of teddy bear designs for Chanyeol to run by the toy store owners.  All in all, her hand is a little tired, but she’s otherwise fine.  Pleasantly so, even.

This also means she gets the rest of her evening to herself, which means she can strip out of her jeans and dance around in her shirt and underwear while experimental cooking.  Not a bad day at all.

The end of the week is welcome if only because there’s only so much Chanyeol Jongin can take when all he does is add more work to her pile with a guilty smile and freshly baked offerings.  She’s going to gain so much weight from this and Jongin, well, she’s too lazy for exercise.  It would cut into her sleeping time and that’s unacceptable.

Having had a busier than normal week, however tiring it was, only makes Jongin look forward to her weekly ritual at Kyungsoo’s place even more.  Her best friend in the entire universe - and all alternate dimensions as he’d once proclaimed - is currently slaving over a hot stove.  He places battered chicken carefully into a frying pan as Jongin watches, a beer in hand and watering.

Jongin can’t imagine her life without this, without Kyungsoo at her side.  Platonically, of course.  They’ve known each other since they were kids.  A seven year old Jongin had fallen off the monkey bars in the park and Kyungsoo had been the kid who had crouched down, pointing and laughing at her until he cried from mirth.  She’d full on tackled him into the dirt and given him a bloody nose.  Their parents had forced them to get together for apologies and all animosity melted when Kyungsoo spied the obnoxiously pink play kitchen Jongin had in her room and had squealed in delight, racing toward it.

They’ve been inseparable since.  When Jongin had run away from home at twelve years old, a bag slung over her shoulder and tears tracking down her cheeks, it was Kyungsoo she ran to.  And when she’d run away the second time, packing up everything she owned for college with plans to never return, it was Kyungsoo who ran with her.  He’s always been there, a steady presence providing her rock solid support - even when she’s in over her head.

She loves him dearly.  Especially when there’s freshly made fried chicken.

The chicken is steaming, too hot for eating, but Jongin bites into it anyway, aloud and chasing it with a swig of beer as Kyungsoo rolls his eyes at her.  “It’s a miracle you still have taste buds,” he mutters fondly.

“It’s a miracle no one’s married you for your chicken,” Jongin says, mouth still full.  “I might even marry you for your chicken.  What do you say?  We hit 30 and elope.  It’ll be fun.”

Kyungsoo’s lip curls, disdain written all over his face as Jongin scuttles out of the kitchen. Plate of chicken in hand, she plops on his couch.

“Feet off the table,” he hisses when he walks past, knocking his knees against Jongin’s legs until she withdraws.  By the time he sits, her feet are back up and she’s slouched comfortably into the sofa.  Instead of fighting it, Kyungsoo forces two coasters under her heels and starts in on his own food.

Jongin doesn’t think there’s a better way to unwind at the end of a week.  They eat in relative silence, pausing to giggle when Kyungsoo burps loud enough to echo.  Jongin takes several gulps of beer to try and one up him, but after a few failed attempts, Kyungsoo is red in the face from laughing and Jongin is starting to get heartburn.

“Not funny,” Jongin groans, throwing one of Kyungsoo’s precious pillows - the matching gray ones that go with his black couch - at his face.  He scrambles to catch it before it lands in the plate of chicken bones.

“Ruin my pillows and I will end you,” Kyungsoo threatens with all the venom of a kitten.  Jongin crawls over the couch and drops on top of him, arms around his waist and head on his chest.

“But you love me more than your pillows,” she reminds him, letting out another soft burp.

“Usually,” he responds, but he still wraps around her, snuggling on the couch until Jongin eventually falls asleep.  Friday nights are her favorite.

Happiness Delight Advertising Firm has been around for three years, and they’d had a rocky start. But the first few customers Chanyeol had managed to hook, with Yixing and Jongin reeling them in for the catch, are the reason their doors are still open.  And Jongin is proud to say that all of them are still clients due to their superb service, impeccable quality and their laid-back atmosphere.  Chanyeol quite frequently goes out for drinks with clients, expanding his friend and business base all in one go.  Jongin admires his tenacity and the business it brings.

Jongin is sitting on the front counter, the heels of her feet hitting against the wood and her sandals sliding forward every few seconds as she swings her legs.  There’s a pen twisted in her hair, one clipped to the bracelets on her left wrist and her tongue peeks through her lips as she makes the final touches to a mascot for a local youth sports team.  They’re not charging the organizers, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t going to do her best, and she’s pleased at the lopsided hats she’s given the animated checkered balls.  Besides, they get their own sponsorship sign out on the field and that should draw in business.

The bell over the door rings and Jongin doesn’t realize someone’s come in until there’s a finger poking her knee, a peach-colored manicured nail contrasting dramatically with the dark denim of her jeans.  She jolts, nearly dropping her sketches, but Luhan is there, grabbing her wrists and keeping everything in place.

“Sorry,” Luhan apologizes, but it isn’t sincere.  The tilt of her head, straight blond hair fanning down her side, and the slight quirk of her glossy pink lips gives her away.

Jongin’s heart plummets to her stomach and she has to intentionally not pull herself out of Luhan’s hold.  “I didn’t hear you come in,” Jongin breathes.  If she had, perhaps Jongin could have prepared herself.  Although . . . she’s hardly ever prepared for when Luhan traipses into the office, turning her world upside-down.

Luhan is bubbly, bright, a constant light. Jongin was drawn to her the moment they met, but so was everyone else.  She’s one of those people who stand out, too gorgeous to stare at directly without fear of going blind.  And Jongin’s always had this visceral attraction to her that has her walls going up, defenses on high alert.

“Is Yixing in?” Luhan asks, peering around the office for any signs of the other woman.  Her fingers are still around Jongin’s wrists and she doesn’t appear to have any interest in releasing Jongin.

“I think she’s in the back,” Jongin answers, trying not to sound like she’s struggling to breathe.

Things didn’t used to be this hard.  Back when Luhan had come in for a consultation, she and Jongin had struck up a friendship.  Jongin had figured that’s all it would ever be and that was alright.  Even when they spent evenings out with a group of people, gravitating toward one another, Jongin was content because it was a small enough change that she could adjust.

But then Luhan asked her out.  Jongin had said yes before her brain could register all the Consequences of not only mixing business with pleasure, but also how it would change her routine.  Still, Jongin hadn’t wanted to pull away and she’d let herself be swept along by Hurricane Luhan until reality kicked in.

Jongin remembers the exact moment she panicked.  It was karaoke night at a downtown bar and Luhan had been on stage, belting her lungs out to Your Song from the Moulin Rouge soundtrack with this glassy, lovestruck look on her face.  It had been too much, too fast.  The next day, Jongin had explained to Luhan that she didn’t want to jeopardize their business relationship - a bald faced lie - and Luhan had been disappointed, but hadn’t pushed it.

They’re still friends even if there’s a gap between them that only Jongin could fill - but she’s still too afraid.  Luhan and the others still go out - Yixing and Chanyeol and Luhan’s friend slash business partner Tao.  They’re all together in a cluster of laughter and bravado, and Jongin never feels quite like part of the group.  She misses it, misses how close they had been, how Luhan never used to shy from leaning into Jongin’s personal space to whisper in her ear. She misses how Luhan used to fix her hair, daring to brush lips over the rise of her cheek when she backed away.  She misses a lot of things and her heart aches.

That was two years ago and Jongin still gets flustered at the sight of Luhan, her stomach roiling and tongue too heavy in .  It wouldn’t be nearly as bad if Luhan kept her distance, but she doesn’t.  Jongin doesn’t think Luhan has the ability to keep away.  It’s just who she is and their friendship persists mostly because of Luhan’s efforts.  And Jongin is thankful for that but it also keeps her very infatuated.  It’s tiring.

“Hey,” Yixing greets when she walks out, running fingers through her hair before pulling the ash blonde strands into a ponytail.  “I fixed the design for the business cards, but tell Tao I’m going to start taking it out on his hide if he doesn’t stop being so damn picky.”

Luhan sighs, finally moving from where she’s been perched between Jongin’s legs.  “You try telling that to a fashion designer,” she grumbles.  “Everything must be perfect,” she trills and Yixing laughs, holding out an arm to usher Luhan into the back to see the proofs before they run to print.

Jongin scrambles back to her desk as soon as they disappear, hunching down in her chair.  Her concentration is thoroughly ruined.  With a groan, she lets her head fall onto her desk.

She doesn’t get back into her groove for the rest of the work day, finally scuffling out of the office when Chanyeol slaps her on the behind with a manila folder, telling her that the thundercloud over her head is going to scare away anyone who wanders by.  Jongin stands outside, purse on her shoulder and a satchel full of sketches and pencils in hand, pondering for only a few seconds before turning left instead of right.  She doesn’t quite feel up to going home.

The Baker sits on the corner of a busy intersection, drawing attention not only because of the name, but the accompanying silhouette of a man wearing naught but a tray perched in his hand nestled between and Baker.  Jongin herself had designed the logo and she’s rather proud of it.

A peek in the window reveals rows of delectable sweets and an assortment of breads and rolls.  Cupcakes line the sides and Jongin’s eyes linger on the miniature key lime pies under the daily special sign, watering.  Kyungsoo always bakes the best treats.

He’s behind the counter when she walks in, a cream and green striped apron over his usual white button-up and black slacks.  It’s the perfect time because the lunch crowds are gone and it’s not quite late enough for the evening customers to come rushing in.  Aside from the couple huddled in the booth in the far back corner, Jongin is the only visitor.  A head of blonde pops up from behind the counter and Jongin startles as Soojung grins at her, then sinks back down to resume whatever she’d been doing.

“You’re earlier than usual,” Kyungsoo notes, dusting the flour from his hands on his apron and stepping up to the glass display cases.

“Chanyeol kicked me out,” she complains, slumping with a sigh.  Kyungsoo tries to knock her on the head, but she ducks out of range, sticking her tongue out at him.  From the side, Soojung lets out a snort of amusement.

“Probably because you look terrible,” he states, earning a pout from Jongin.

“Luhan came in today,” Jongin finally relents, hands pressed on the glass even though she knows how Kyungsoo hates when people touch his pristine display cases.  “I need comfort food.”

“You need a therapist,” Kyungsoo grumbles, but he gestures to the array of baked goods spread before him and lets Jongin point at the little key lime pies, plucking one out and handing it to her.  “You and your emotional crises are going to put me out of business.”

Jongin feels like crap.

Her morning has been awful - starting from when she slept through her alarm, to having to rush out the door without her coffee, tumbling into the office with her hair in disarray and mismatched shoes on her feet.  After hiding her shoes under her desk and flopping in her seat, she finally gets a chance to catch her breath.

But that’s when her headache kicks in full force, her body’s not-so-subtle demand for caffeine pulsing through her skull like a freight train.  She can’t believe she actually crashed hard enough to sleep through her phone’s irritating wails.  After not feeling well the night before, she’d gone to bed early to sleep it off.  It seems it was a lost cause though, because her stomach is still shaky and she lays her head on her desk, eyes closed as she wills it all to go away.

Jongin doesn’t realize that she’s fallen asleep until a loud noise jolts her out of it. She sits upright in her seat long enough to see Chanyeol’s mildly guilty expression as he picks up the box he’d dropped.  “You alright?” he questions when he sees the way Jongin’s pressing on her eyes.

Jongin lets out a pathetic groan and lets her head fall back to her desk.  Chanyeol rushes over, palm curving over her forehead in worry and it’s sweet, but she isn’t feverish.  She isn’t sure what she is.  It’s probably some tiny stomach bug that’ll pass in a day, so all she has to do is get through today and she’ll be fine tomorrow.

She’s not fine tomorrow.

Or the next day.

It’s increasingly harder to get out of bed every morning and Jongin fights with her every instinct when she crawls from warm blankets and to the bathroom, hoping that this will be the morning she doesn’t throw up.  There’s definitely something wrong with her and it’s with a sigh of defeat that she finally calls her doctor for an appointment.

Jongin still goes to work.  She may be sluggish and mildly nauseous through most of the day, but that doesn’t mean they can put any of their projects on pause.  Yixing has started bringing in coffee to leave on Jongin’s desk for when she gets there and Chanyeol is all kinds of sweet when presented with a sick woman.  He’d initially come at Jongin like she was PMSing because that’s what he’s used to.  It’s a bit too early for that, though.  Yixing, being the Hormonal Dominatrix that she is, has coaxed Jongin’s body into syncing with hers and Yixing is definitely not craving chocolate in vast amounts yet.

Chanyeol’s left a box of tissues on her desk from when he’d diagnosed her with a cold despite the lack of a runny nose.  And there’s also flu medicine sitting beside it that Jongin’s been wary about taking.  If it was the flu, she’d be a lot worse than she is now.

She lets the two of them know that she’ll be leaving early for her appointment and Chanyeol offers to drive her.  Jongin nearly says no until her stomach turns over and closes.  “That’d be great, thank you,” she forces out.  Taking a bus right now wouldn’t end well for her or anyone on board.

Now all she has to endure is five hours of work.

It doesn’t pass quickly.  Jongin manages to sip at the ginger ale Yixing had brought her once her coffee was empty - letting it calm her stomach as she chances a few nibbles on the crackers Chanyeol had dropped off during lunch.  Yixing takes to sliding a chair over to Jongin’s desk, helping her with her sketches instead of focusing on her own work.  Chanyeol mentions it once, but the dirty look Yixing gives him has him cowering and disappearing into the back for a solid hour.

Chanyeol drops Jongin off at the women’s clinic a little early, hopping out long enough to open her door for her.  “I have a meeting not far from here and I’ll swing back by to pick you up when I’m done,” he informs her.  Then he smushes her face in his chest with a bear hug and Jongin laughs as she shoves him away.

“Go.  I’ll be fine.  I’ll text when I’m done.”

She’s an adult.  She can totally visit her doctor without anyone there to hold her hand.

Theoretically.

Because right now, Jongin would really like someone here to hold her hand.  After a prolonged wait in the waiting room and a nurse coming in to get her vitals and to instruct her to pee in a cup, Jongin is now sitting in the rolling chair beside the table the nurse had gestured toward.  The crinkling paper on top has always unnerved her and she won’t be getting up there unless absolutely necessary.  At least she doesn’t have to worry with a paper gown that never stays shut in the back.  It brings a little comfort.

Jongin’s nausea is worse, but she thinks it’s mostly because of her nerves.  She swallows down a mouthful of spit, foot tapping and eyes staring at the informational posters plastered on the walls without taking any of it in.

Doctor Byun, or Baekhyun as she prefers being called, hadn’t been Jongin’s first choice of doctors. Frankly, she’d wanted someone with a bit more experience, but it hadn’t taken long for Jongin to prefer her over all others.  Baekhyun brings a warm smile into the room with her, the vivid purple of her shirt giving life to the standard white coat, several smiley face buttons pinned over her black embroidered name.

“Afternoon,” Baekhyun greets, sitting down in the chair by the small table covered in containers of various disposables, and rolling over to where Jongin is sitting.  There’s a clipboard on her lap and she taps her nails on it lightly when she skids to a stop.  “I hear you’re feeling unwell.”

It’s difficult not to smile at Baekhyun; she’s an absolute ray of sunshine, much like Yixing.  Jongin always takes comfort in that.  “For a few days now.”

“Nausea, lethargy, wooziness?  Anything else?”

“Caffeine headaches,” Jongin laughs and Baekhyun smiles knowingly.

“I foresee less coffee in your future,” she teases.

“This is just a bug that’s going to pass, right?” Jongin asks, suddenly very nervous.

“In a manner of speaking.”

Jongin lets out a slow breath.  “So you know what I have?”

Baekhyun’s nail taps twice on her clipboard before she leans forward, taking Jongin’s hands in hers.  “Jongin, you’re pregnant.”

It’s rather abrupt the way Jongin stops breathing, like the air is caught in her lungs with no way to escape.  Baekhyun’s hands squeeze hers, trying to bring her back.  Jongin lets out a whine when she finally exhales, stomach twisted tight and, really, Baekhyun should count herself fortunate that Jongin doesn’t throw up on her.

“Jongin?” Baekhyun says softly, thumbs caressing the backs of Jongin’s hands.  “I need you to breathe and focus on me.”

There’s more spit pooled under Jongin’s tongue and she swallows it down, staring ahead at her doctor in confusion and disbelief.  It was one night.  One.  And they’d been careful, so careful.  “A-are you sure?”

“Yes.  But we can also do a blood test if you’d like.”

Jongin’s throat closes and her chest feels heavy, tight.  “No,” she mumbles, shaking her head.  “No, I trust you.”

Baekhyun is patient, letting Jongin compose herself - or try to anyway - before she leans down into Jongin’s view, head tilted and brown hair falling over her shoulder.  “There are options, Jongin.  Don’t focus on the moment, alright?  Look at me.”

After several shaky exhales, Jongin blinks up at Baekhyun, her vision blurred with tears.  

“I’m assuming this is unplanned.”

Jongin nods, gripping Baekhyun’s hands tight enough to turn her knuckles white.

“Hey, life always throws us surprises when we least expect it.  It’s how we handle them that make us who we are.”

It takes a moment for Jongin to react, but when she does, she huffs out a laugh, sniffling.  “This is one hell of a surprise.”

Baekhyun seems pleased that she’s gotten Jongin to smile.  “This is a judgement free zone, Jongin.  Everything that happens in here, stays in here.  Confidential.  I’m here to help you so tell me how I can help you.”

Jongin gives Baekhyun a pitiful whimper,  “What am I supposed to do?”

When Chanyeol shows up to get her, Jongin is calm, serene even.  There are at least a dozen pamphlets stuffed in her purse, along with a bottle of prenatal vitamins and an appointment card for her next visit so they can start in on all the bloodwork.

It’s a little surreal still and Jongin doesn’t feel different other than the fact her heart won’t stop pounding in her chest.  Her nausea is more pronounced and her eyes are puffy and aching from crying, but she can do this.

“Well?” Chanyeol asks as soon as Jongin slides into the passenger seat.

She takes one look at him and bursts into tears.  Chanyeol panics and drives her to Kyungsoo’s house while Jongin holds on to her seat like a lifeline.  By the time Chanyeol is tugging her into the elevator, awkwardly fidgeting because people are staring at the woman sobbing her heart out, Jongin has reached the point where she’s not entirely sure she’s awake.  This could be a nightmare induced by her anxiety or possibly because of the burnt pasta she’d scraped off the bottom of the pot last night and ate anyway.  Perhaps she has lead poisoning.  That’s still a thing, right?

Chanyeol, always the King of Sensitivity, all but s Jongin toward Kyungsoo when he opens his door, stepping back as Jongin teeters forward.  She thinks Kyungsoo is a hallucination until he’s drawing her in, arms securely around her to keep her on her feet and the scent of his fabric softener penetrating her stuffed up nose.

Jongin feels heavy, but Kyungsoo is here now and he’s never let her fall so she puts all her faith in him.  It’s not misguided.  He’s gentle when he sits her on the couch, crouching in front of her to push the tangled strands of her hair out of the way so he can see her face.

His thumbs swipe to catch the fresh wave of tears and he holds her face so carefully.  “What happened?  Do I need to go out and kill someone?  I know a guy.”

Despite it all, Jongin snorts a laugh and shakes her head, blinking more tears.  “No,” she responds weakly.  “But I’ve probably scarred Chanyeol.”

“He thinks he broke you,” Kyungsoo chuckles.  “I told him you were broken long before he met you.”

Jongin swats weakly at Kyungsoo’s arm, letting her hand settle there. Then she holds on tight.  She wants to tell him; all her emotions and a fair few of her internal organs want to spill out right into Kyungsoo’s lap, but she can’t.   closes and she bites at her lip nervously, afraid.

“You have to tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it,” Kyungsoo whispers.

“I-”  Jongin’s voice cracks and she lets her head fall, chin to her chest as her hair falls forward to provide a barrier between her and Kyungsoo.  “Do you remember the first time I showed up on your parents’ doorstep?  I had that ratty pink bag -”

“The one with the kittens.”

“Yeah, the one with the kittens,” Jongin remembers, sniffling and wiping at her tears.  “I remember being so angry.  I thought it was so unfair that my mom and dad weren’t the same as yours.”  Jongin’s throat closes and her face scrunches as she tries not to cry.  “I wanted your parents because they loved unconditionally.  Because mine had all these - these . . . stipulations.”

“Jongin -” Kyungsoo starts, clearly confused, but Jongin shakes her head, tears dripping down her cheeks.

“I don’t want to be like my parents,” she sobs.  “I want to be better.  I can be better.”

“You have to make sense for me to know what’s going on,” Kyungsoo all but whines.

Jongin peers up at him, chewing the inside of her lip.  She knows Kyungsoo won’t turn his back on her, but it’s still so hard.  “I ed up,” she croaks.

Kyungsoo slumps more toward the floor.  “Like making out with the high school football captain ed up or that time during spring break when we were almost arrested in a Waffle House ed up?"

"Worse - and I wasn't going to get arrested.  You were the one who had to compare with the waitress."  Kyungsoo’s face falls, his upper lip curling.  And Jongin laughs.  “Are you still upset that hers was bigger?”

“We’re off topic.  This is about you.”

“You remember when I went out with Yixing a few weekends ago?”

“You mean do I remember you waking me up far too early on a Saturday to talk about Mister Rich Man With The Nice ?”

“That’s the one,” she sighs, fidgeting.

“Is he back in town?  He’s not some crazy stalker I have to beat up in a dark alley is he?  Those rich guys have powerful friends.”

“He’s -”  Jongin squeezes her eyes shut and takes in a deep breath.  “He’s still out of the picture.  But it seems his friends aren’t the only powerful things about him,” she jests half-heartedly.  “I’m pregnant.”

That is definitely not the answer Kyungsoo is expecting and he falls back on his , jaw slack and eyes wide.  “You’re what?  But you’re so careful.”

“I know,” Jongin whines, pushing her hair back with both hands.  “And yet here I am.”  She looks at Kyungsoo on the floor, her forehead wrinkled with worry and pinched.  “Are you upset with me?”

“Why would I be upset with you?  Shocked, yes.  Mildly confused, definitely.  But you’re my best friend and I know you.  Upset at you isn’t even on the list.”

Jongin slides herself off the couch and falls on Kyungsoo, pushing him flat on the floor as she hugs him.  His arms wrap around her and Jongin cries again.  This time in relief.

Jongin makes it into work the following morning, stopping off to buy an apology pastry for Chanyeol and a box of muffins to share because they sound safe enough for her stomach.  As per usual, Yixing is already there, humming under her breath as she spins in a circle, pink polka-dotted skirt flaring out and her hair in her face.  Jongin watches, amused, until Yixing notices her there.

“I wasn’t sure if you were coming in today,” Yixing announces as she puts down the papers in her hand and rushes over to Jongin’s side to take the box from her.  Then she pulls Jongin into a tight one-armed hug.  “Chanyeol told me you were upset after your appointment.”

“I’m better now,” Jongin manages to say, swallowing down a little guilt.  She’s still trying to process things, still working through her own reactions, and telling people - other than Kyungsoo because she needs her rock - isn’t something she’s prepared for.  Not yet.

Yixing pulls away to inspect Jongin, head tilted.  Jongin knows she looks like .  She got very little sleep and the dark bags under her eyes are impossible to hide.  But Yixing just sighs fondly and cups Jongin’s face in her palm, leaning in to push their noses together.  “I’ll keep close today,” she declares.  “Just in case.”  Then she’s off, box of muffins in hand and Jongin is left standing there, grinning at her friend.

Everything is the same as she left it the previous afternoon.  Jongin doesn’t know why she expects things to be different.  It’s like she’s anticipating some physical manifestation to go along with the chaos inside her head, some way to reconcile how she feels with reality.  Right now, she’s still floating along without direction, more confused and scared than anything else.

Chanyeol shows up to find Jongin standing by her desk, staring at the files she’d left open and holding a paper bag, unmoving.  “Jongin?” he asks quietly.  Or at least as quietly as Chanyeol can manage.

She jumps, heart rattling in her chest.

“Sorry,” Chanyeol whispers, reaching out to steady Jongin, but pulling back before he touches her.

Jongin feels terrible.  She must have really given him a shock.  “It’s fine,” she assures.  “I’m fine,” she adds.  “Thank you for yesterday.  I didn’t mean to fall apart like that.”

“Are you sure you should be here today?  Yixing and I can keep things covered-”

“No,” Jongin says, cutting Chanyeol off.  The idea of going back to her apartment, sitting alone with nothing but her thoughts, terrifies her.  “I promise, I’m feeling much better.”  Chanyeol doesn’t look very convinced.  “Cherry turnover?” she offers, holding up the small bag she’s crumpled with her fist.

Chanyeol’s brightens up instantly, bounding over like an excited puppy.  Jongin resists the urge to scratch behind his ears, laughing as he opens the bag and moans at the aroma that wafts out.  At least some things will always stay the same.

Jongin finally gets herself situated, checking her schedule for the day before diving into what she left behind the afternoon before.  Aside from a consultation later, the rest of the day is free to finish up the few concepts she’s still working on.  Jongin sort of wishes there was more to do, more to take her mind off things, but Chanyeol’s always been amazing when it comes to time management and keeping projects spaced apart so he doesn’t overload any of them.

Her limbs feel leaden, a few steps up from deadweight, but they might hit bottom soon.  She’s dragging herself along and she knows it.  One thing Jongin is always enthusiastic about is new consultations.  She gets to see the dreamy look on someone’s face as they talk about their vision, their ideas for how they want it to look.  There’s a sketch pad in her lap, a pencil in her hand and usually Jongin can get a few decent doodles done just by listening to the client, but today there’s nothing.

Even Yixing is looking over at Jongin, worry scrunching her face.

It almost feels as if it’s not her sitting at the conference table, but someone else.  And she’s just there watching, examining.  Taking piss poor notes.

A severe lack of coffee isn’t helping Jongin function and she’s shutting down, head falling on the table as soon as Chanyeol escorts the client out.  Yixing is behind her moments later, fingers pressing into Jongin’s shoulders until she goes lax.  She feels terrible that she’s making her friends worry and that she can’t seem to find the energy to do her job.  It’s only the first day.  How is she supposed to go nine months this way?

Chanyeol and Yixing are already keeping an extra eye on her, which means they’re not working as diligently as they usually do and Jongin’s guilt multiplies.  She eventually shoos Yixing off with a wave of her hand and a promise that she’s doing better, and then Jongin it up and pours all her focus into her work.

One baby step at a time.

She needs to take things as they come at her and right now, work is the most important task.  Well, work and the lurch in her stomach that threatens to distract her.  She’s positively craving coffee and yet the idea of drinking it makes her stomach worse.  Just her luck.

And because the universe hasn’t decided that Jongin’s had enough, Luhan pops in just when Jongin is feeling her worst.  It’s only an affront to Jongin’s everything that Luhan looks like she just stepped off a catwalk while Jongin only hopes she’s gotten most of the tangles out of her hair.  The pitying frown Luhan gives her makes Jongin think she hasn’t.

“Yixing told me you weren’t feeling well,” Luhan sighs, walking around the counter and over to where Jongin is cowering behind her desk, toes curling in her shoes.  “And that you were being stubborn about it.”

Jongin wrinkles her nose and cuts her eyes to where Yixing is walking out of the conference room.  Yixing’s eyes widen when she spots Luhan and she backtracks, disappearing inside the room again.

“I’ll be fine,” Jongin croaks.  She doesn’t even sound convincing to herself.

“Of course you will be,” Luhan states, propping her on the side of Jongin’s desk.  Jongin Does Not Stare at the curve of it through Luhan’s white shorts even if she can see the outline of her underwear pushing against the fabric.  “But I thought I’d bring you some tea to help because we both know you won’t take time off even if you need it.”

Luhan pulls a box of tea from her purse - ginger, non-caffeinated - and waves it triumphantly.  Jongin almost expects the woman to pin her with a beaming smile like she’s filming a commercial.  Instead, Luhan hops off Jongin’s desk and heads toward the back where the rarely used kitchen lives in the corner.  It would be pointless to stop her.  Luhan is an immovable force, impossible to sway unless she absolutely wants to be.

So Jongin pretends to work, her pencil tracing over the same lines over and over, as she listens to Luhan’s low cursing and the clinking of the mugs kept in a small cabinet.  She’s smiling by the time Luhan reappears, gripping a mug by the handle with one hand and fingers around the edges of the top so nothing sloshes out as she carefully steps.  Warmth blossoms in Jongin’s chest and it’s not because of the tea.  It’s sitting untouched in front of her, steam wafting off the top, but Luhan is behind her, carefully gathering Jongin’s hair and pulling it off her neck.

“It’s okay to let someone take care of you sometimes,” Luhan hums.  She has Jongin’s hair twisted around her finger as her other hand smooths down the back of Jongin’s neck, digging in with enough pressure to have Jongin sighing, relaxing.  “That’s what friends are for.”

Oh how Jongin hates the way that word sounds coming from Luhan’s mouth.  It’s wistful, wanting.  Almost empty yet bursting into so much more.  Jongin aches to turn around and pull Luhan against her, taste the word on her lips to see if it’s bitter or sweet.  It burns inside her, scalding hotter than the tea when she takes a sip before it’s cool enough.  She hums lightly and Luhan sighs, letting her hands drop.

Jongin is left wanting as Luhan leaves with a casual wave, popping her head into the conference room to let Yixing know she’s out.

Jongin thinks she can put the incident out of her head, clear her mind because there are only so many things she can fret over at once without imploding.  But that’s simply impossible when Luhan is back in the next day under the pretense of dropping off the new photos for Tao’s flyers.

Jongin had just managed to swipe the bottle of prenatal vitamins off her desk from where she’d been losing a staring match and her gut is twisted, her smile falling short of convincing.  She’d been busy debating how much extra she’d have to eat to avoid having to take them because they make her stomach worse, but she knows it’s futile and she needs to it up.

It’s Friday and while Jongin looks very much frazzled and ready for the weekend, Luhan is still a vision of absolute beauty.  She disappears into the back, foregoing her usual greeting and that does not have Jongin’s chest aching horribly.  It doesn’t.  Maybe she’s just getting heartburn.  She’s read that pregnancy can cause that.

Instead of moping, she goes back to work, flexing her fingers and plucking a pencil from the overflowing cup in her side desk drawer.  There’s a cute little puppy half sketched out and she tilts her head, wondering if she should add a ribbon around its neck.  She’s so engrossed that she doesn’t notice the presence beside her until Luhan is setting a steaming mug - bright orange with daisies printed over it - in front of her, the ceramic thunking on wood.

Jongin leans over, her nose scrunching when she smells tea.  “This isn’t coffee,” she grumbles.  She knows she needs to give up the addiction, but it’s so hard.  She’s wired for coffee now.

Luhan gives Jongin a Look that has Jongin shrinking down in her seat.  “We both know coffee would tear up your stomach.  The tea will help.  Besides, caffeine is a terrible addiction.”

“There are worse addictions,” Jongin argues weakly.  She also happens to know that Luhan is a coffee fanatic herself.  After all, she’s the one who introduced Jongin to trying the different flavors of coffee at the corner shop instead of sticking to normal brew.

“We’ll work on your worse addictions later,” Luhan teases.  “For now, drink so I know you at least have something suitable in your system.”

Jongin glances over at Luhan, her heart in .  It’d be so easy to imagine that Luhan’s actions stem from something more than friendship, but Jongin isn’t quite far gone enough for that delusion.  She takes the tea with a grateful hum and blows the steam off the top.  It’s ginger again and she has to admit that it had helped her stomach calm yesterday.  Which makes Luhan right.  As usual.

Luhan stands there long enough to make sure Jongin is actually drinking the tea before she goes to find Yixing again.  Her fingers are soft when she slides them through Jongin’s hair, pushing it from her face to tuck behind her ear before giving Jongin a smile and disappearing.

Jongin swallows wrong and ends up suppressing a coughing fit because the last thing she needs is Luhan rushing over as Jongin goes red in the face because she can’t even Human properly.

Kyungsoo thinks it’s hilarious.  Jongin’s propped on his couch, frowning with half a piece of chicken still in which isn’t as easy a thing as one would expect.  There’s a tall half-empty glass of milk on the coffee table courtesy of Kyungsoo taking the beer right out of Jongin’s hand.  She’d been on autopilot and the interception was greatly appreciated.

Kyungsoo’s amusement at her social blunders is not.

“I don’t know what you’re so upset about,” Kyungsoo explains as Jongin devours the rest of her piece of chicken before disposing of the bone on the plate atop the coffee table.  “You’re the one who broke things off and she’s been very respectful of that.”

“I know,” Jongin whines, sliding further down so she can wiggle the tips of her barefeet up Kyungsoo’s ankles.  “But it’s complicated.”

“Everything with you is complicated.”  Jongin makes a disgruntled noise and Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow at her.  “And she’s right.  You need to lay off the coffee.  If you don’t, that kid’s going to need a caffeine drip within an hour of being born.”

“Why are you all ganging up on me?” Jongin dramatically sighs, her head falling back with a hand on her forehead.  “No one is on Team Jongin.”

Kyungsoo snorts, reaching down to grab one of Jongin’s ankles so he can pull her flat on the couch.  She only yelps a little.  “I’m on Team Parasite,” he corrects, patting Jongin’s tummy softly.

All the fight goes out of Jongin and she looks down at Kyungsoo’s fingers tapping where her baby is growing.  “Yeah,” she agrees.  “Me too.”  Even if she’s suffering from horrible caffeine headaches that do more harm than good to her already fragile state, the idea of doing anything that could harm the little peanut growing inside her is worse.

It’s physically painful for Jongin to turn down the coffee Chanyeol sets on her desk Monday morning.  Over the weekend, Jongin had handed over her entire stash of coffee, including coffee maker, to Kyungsoo to hold on to for her in case her resolve weakened.  And now the tantalizing aroma of freshly ground coffee beans mixed with raspberry is making water.  But she swallows it down and pushes it away with an apology.

Chanyeol and Yixing both look at her like she’s sprouted a second head.

“I’m on a cleanse,” she lies, still uneasy with other people knowing.  Chanyeol and Yixing are her friends.  Her best friends after Kyungsoo and she knows they wouldn’t judge her, but closes up at the thought of voicing out loud that she’s growing a life inside her that isn’t bacterial in nature.

How do people usually break the news that they’re pregnant?

Jongin staunchly refuses to hire a skywriter - as the internet so cleverly suggested - and decides she’ll figure it out later.  For now, she’s going to pine over coffee dreams and nibble on the ginger wafers Yixing brought for her after lunch.  Yixing had stood there rubbing up and down Jongin’s back almost enough to put her to sleep before tickling Jongin’s sides to startle her awake.  She’d darted off with a cackle, neatly dodging the empty plastic cup Jongin had thrown at her with ease.

She’s out of her seat, stretching her legs by walking around on her tip-toes, arms over her head when the bell rings.  In walks Tao, black leather molded to his legs and a loose tank top hanging low so the few hairs on his chest get some air.  His hair is vivid red which is a mild surprise because it had been blond the last time she’d seen him.

“Chanyeol around?” Tao asks immediately, even as he swoops in to give Jongin a hug.  Her feet come off the floor and he spins, finally depositing Jongin on the counter.

“What’s it worth to you?” Jongin teases.  From here, she’s high enough to get her hands on Tao’s hair, letting it slide silky smooth through her fingers.  It’s a good color on him.

Tao pouts and Jongin snorts, unaffected.  He’s shameless when it comes to something he wants and, well, Tao wants Chanyeol in an extreme way.  Sadly for Tao, Chanyeol is the most oblivious human alive and Tao might as well be hitting against a brick wall for all the response he gets.  Doesn’t stop him from trying though.

Jongin finally sighs, flicking at his ear and watching one of his many piercings tap against another.  “He’s in the conference room.  With Yixing.  I’m sure she’ll leave if you ask nicely.”

“You’re the best,” Tao announces before darting off.  It’s amazing how he can even move in those pants, let alone manage a slow jog and Jongin is shaking her head with a grin.  Chanyeol’s afternoon is about to get interesting.