* Hello there readers!  I'm on vacation for the rest of the month, city hopping and airport hopping. And as such a thing happens, I've gotten a pretty big delay in my flight tonight. So I had two options. I could either respond to comments on the previous chapter, or edit/post a new one. I kind of figured you guys would want a new chapter more. So enjoy this update and I'll be back in June! *

Luhan’s fingers were clutched tightly to the white sheets slung down low on his hips, and despite how the nurse had tried to get him to relax his grip twice now, Luhan wasn’t relenting. He wasn’t giving an inch, actually, until he knew for sure. Until he was certain.

The ultrasound gel was frigid on his skin like it always was, but Luhan was barely registering it. In fact, he wasn’t even sure what part of the hospital he was in. The emergency room? The pregnancy ward? The part of the hospital that Luhan had needed to frequent when there’d been fear that he could have gestational diabetes again with his second pregnancy?

It really was impossible to guess. And Luhan had better things to concentrate on, than where he was currently located.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to pull his gaze away from the monitor next to the bed that everyone was expecting to display a picture of a healthy, alive baby, in a matter of seconds.

Still woozy from the knock he’d taken to the head, and the word concussion had been thrown around, the room spun a little. Luhan gripped tighter to the sheets.

Hysteria was creeping up on him with every moment he couldn’t see his baby, with every second the picture had yet to come through clearly on the monitor.

Because he couldn’t feel the baby.

As soon as he’d gotten his senses about him, right after the crash impact, he’d tried feeling for the baby. His baby was notorious for kicking back whenever Luhan pushed down on a specific spot, as if they were playing a game. Luhan always joked it was as steady and constant as this second pregnancy which was running smoothly.

Or had been.

But when Luhan had pushed down, there’d been no kick back. The baby hadn’t made his presence known, and Luhan couldn’t stomach the idea of what that meant.

Don’t jump to conclusions, he’d hissed to himself when he’d realized he was no longer in a smoking, damaged car, and instead being transferred from an ambulance stretcher to a hospital bed. Don’t panic and don’t lose it.

He’d come inches away from hyperventilating.

“Hmmm,” the doctor eased out, and the nurse next to him echoed the sound with one of her own.

Luhan could have reached across the bed and throttled the both of them. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Is the baby okay?’ Luhan demanded, probably for the millionth time. “Is he okay?”

“I see the form,” the doctor said, barely sparing Luhan a look of comfort. “I’ll check for a fetal heartbeat.”

He said it so nonchalant. He said it like things would be perfectly okay if Luhan’s baby didn’t have a heartbeat anymore.

He was not Luhan’s regular doctor.

When Eunji had gotten her grant to go study new, innovative techniques of in-womb surgery, she’d left the country with barely six month’s notice. And naturally, as her husband, Chen had gone with her. That meant that Luhan had lost a good friend in Chen, but most importantly, he’d lost a doctor that he trusted and admired and believed in.

For a while, he’d thought there couldn’t possibly be another doctor that even came close to half of what Luhan felt for Eunji. And he’d certainly gone through doctors like Sehun went through his anxiety medication. Luhan wasn’t going to trust his baby to just anyone, but the weeks had passed in his pregnancy, and he’d gotten desperate.

It was ultimately that desperation which had led Luhan to take a chance on a doctor Eunji had recommended. She’d said to him, “I’d never put you in the hands of someone I wouldn’t trust with my own baby, Luhan. Park Chorong is someone I consider having had the privilege to work with. She’s upfront and honest, and when it comes time to make the right call in a tough situation, she’s someone who can keep her head on straight and her wits about her. Doctor Park has delivered thousands of babies, worked on dozens of high profile cases, and for you, Luhan, she’ll be what you need.

She was. She was everything and more. Of course she wasn’t Eunji, who was a personal friend, but she was a nice substitute, and she made Luhan feel safe.

But this week, this week of all weeks, Chorong had gone away to a conference in Toronto, and she wasn’t expected to be back for another ten days.

She wasn’t going to fly all the way back just because Luhan had had an accident. She was an amazing physician, but she wasn’t his personal doctor solely.

There wouldn’t be a need for her, anyway, if this other, cold, distant doctor couldn’t find his son’s heartbeat.

If his baby died … if…

Luhan blinked back sudden tears, his eyes burning fiercely.

If he’d lost Youri, if anything had happened with her when Luhan had been pregnant, Luhan would have died himself. He’d have had nothing left to live for. But things were different now. Luhan couldn’t go on without his baby, but he couldn’t leave Youri, either.

Don’t think about it, he told himself, practically biting down on his tongue to stop himself from saying the words aloud. Don’t go there.

“Is that damage to the amniotic sack?” the nurse asked, head tilted to the side.

“What’s wrong with my baby!” Luhan demanded.

He tried to sit up, but too strong of hands pushed him down on the bed, and Luhan’s head throbbed.

He could feel the stitches at his hairline pulling, stitches that another, different doctor had sewn in while they were waiting for a doctor to arrive with an ultrasound machine. The stitches burned still, because until they knew for sure whether the baby was alive or dead, they couldn’t risk giving him the stronger main medication.

Luhan would have given up all pain medication, ever, just for his baby to be okay.

“False alarm, I think,” the doctor said lightly. “Ah, and here’s the heartbeat. It’s a little weak, probably due to trauma and stress, but I don’t think there’s any cause for worry.”

Luhan sunk hard back into the pillow behind him.

The baby was okay. There was a heartbeat.

“See,” the doctor said, finally giving him a long look. “If you’d been just a little more patient, we could have gotten to that sooner.”

Luhan wanted Chorong back so badly.

The nurse asked the doctor, “Are you coming to the benefit gala?”

And then the two of them were holding a whole conversation as if Luhan hadn’t been just about to lose what little sanity he had left.

“Why isn’t he moving?” Luhan asked in a thin voice. “He always moves.” He wasn’t viciously active like Youri had been, but he was a constant ripple under skin now. And Luhan, even now assured he still lived, was unnerved by how little he was moving.

“I’ll send someone over to talk to you,” the doctor said dismissively. “Doctor Im is on rotation tonight. I’m sure he’ll explain everything.”

“Wait,” Luhan said, now more angry than anything else. “You can’t just say a few words and then leave.” He could already see the doctor and nurse inching towards the door. “I have questions, and you’re going to answer them. I need to know what’s going on.”

“Another doctor is on his way,” the departing one called out, and Luhan watched him go.

“,” Luhan said sharply, to the empty room. Silence was the reply.

He took in a series of deep, barely stead breaths, and brought his hands to his stomach. He splayed his fingers and waited desperately for some sign of life inside. Anything.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said to himself, this time without muteness. “It’s okay, Han. He’s alive. He’s got a heartbeat. He’s okay.”

He felt like such a fraud, because how could he focus on that, when all he could think of was the moment he’d come to in the car.

There was nothing lucky about being involved in a car accident. And it was all too obvious now, especially now, how easily Luhan could have died, or the baby, or the both of them.

Like Jae.

Oh, god, they could have died just like Jae and Seoyoung had. And it wouldn’t matter that they’d died by being struck by a car, walking in a crosswalk. All that would matter would be what the doctor had to tell Sehun, and how Sehun would …

Luhan didn’t know what Sehun would have done. It was too scary to imagine what Sehun’s response would have been, knowing that Youri would have countless family members and close family friends to love her and raise her.

Luhan wrenched himself to the side, getting his feet over the edge of the bed and sitting up.

Sehun was going to lose it, even though Luhan and the baby were okay. He was going to lose his mind. It was something that Luhan didn’t know how to make better, and it was a hurricane that would be heading in his way as soon as the hospital called him and relayed what had happened.

Across the room Luhan could see his personal effects had been placed on an uncomfortable looking chair. His clothes were bloody, probably from his headwound, and so they’d been sealed in plastic. But Luhan’s wallet had survived mostly unscathed, and the hospital would have had the ID inside to facilitate that, and his cellphone was tucked in next to it.

Any second now Sehun was going to come bursting through the doors. Enough time had passed.

Luhan could mark the passage of time by the sun in the distance. He remembered the blinding light of the setting sun when the accident had happened. Presumably, another car had failed to see him because of it. And it was pitch black out now.

One more time, Luhan pushed down on his stomach, on the underside, to the left, and waited.

Nothing.

“He saw a heartbeat,” Luhan argued. “He saw one.”

But a weak one. That was what he’d said. His baby had a weak heartbeat. How was that not a cause for concern?

No.

Luhan wasn’t going to let that stand. He wasn’t going to let his baby be endangered because of some prick of a doctor who didn’t care enough.

And there was only one person Luhan trusted to talk him down off the ledge.

He was achy and stiff when he slid from the bed, and his legs were so weak he nearly toppled down to the ground. But it was only a residual kind of ache. Aside from the knock to the head he’d taken, he was perfectly fine. Luhan didn’t know how, he suspected that was something he’d find out in the coming days, but he’d survived the impact. He’d been able to walk away.

It took some time and effort, but eventually Luhan got to the other side of the room. He fumbled his phone into his hands, and retreated back to the bed.

He couldn’t rest until he was sure, and there was only one person’s who’s word he would take as truth.

When Eunji answered the phone, Luhan could hear the uncertainty in her voice. Usually they emailed more than anything. Eunji spent most of her time in her lab, and when she wasn’t, she was at the local hospital, doing a round or two. It was notoriously difficult to get Eunji on the phone. But Luhan hadn’t been thinking about that when he’d called her. He’d only been thinking of her medical knowledge, and how much of a friend she was.

“Eunji,” Luhan breathed out, more on the edge of panic than anything else. “I need your help. The baby … there was an accident and I can’t feel him now. I can’t feel him, and the doctor is an , and I don’t trust what he says, and I—”

“Luhan,” she said quickly, already taking control of the conversation. “Wait. Slow down and speak clearly. You said there was an accident? Are you okay? What happened?”

Luhan steadied himself, risking a glance to the door. The doctor who’d looked his baby over had certainly been a of epic proportions, but Luhan didn’t doubt that eventually that someone else would be by to put him in a proper recovery room, at least until he was discharged. They’d probably take his phone then, or at least make him turn it off.

Luhan wasn’t going to waste the opportunity he had.

“Eunji,” he said, trying to be stronger, “I was in a car accident. I was driving. A car blind sighted me.”

“Are you okay?” she asked again, evenly. “Is the baby okay?”

It felt a little childish to say, but Luhan told her anyway, “This doctor came in, he was supposed to check the baby, to make sure he’s okay. Because Eunji, I can’t feel the baby move around. I can’t feel him, and I can always feel him. Eunji, what does it mean that I can’t feel him?”

She let him go for a few more minutes begore her voice cut across the line sharply, “You need to focus, Luhan. You said a doctor came in and checked the baby. An obstetrician?”

Luhan swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yes. He was a jerk, a total jerk, too.”

“Tell me what he said.”

She was all doctor now. Gone was Luhan’s friend, and there was his doctor. He’d never felt such gratefulness for such a thing.

“He found a heartbeat,” Luhan revealed. “But he said it’s weak. Eunji, he said the heartbeat is weak. And they thought that the baby’s amniotic sack might be leaking, and I don’t know what to do, and I’m freaking out, and Sehun isn’t here yet but when he is he’s going to lose his mind, and I don’t know what to do.”

“What you’re going to do,” Eunji ordered, “is look around the room. I presume you’re in a hospital room. So look around. When they brought you in, at least for the ultrasound, a chart came with you. South Korea is advancing many of its medical techniques in a cutting edge way, but the country is still woefully behind when it comes to patient records. South Korea is still on the paper system. So your patient information is going to be somewhere near you in a chart. I need you to find it for me.”

His eyes darting around the room, Luhan searched for it. A chart. His chart was probably in the room somewhere.

He found it slotted onto the side of the bed, near the foot of it, on the opposite side nearest the door.

“I’ve got it,” he said almost breathlessly, flipping it over. There were words and numbers in it, but it all meant nothing to him. A feeling of frustration was welling up in him almost immediately. “Eunji, I don’t know what any of this means.”

“No,” she agreed kindly, “that’s why I’m here. So we’re going to start at the top. Tell me what they initially assessed your condition as when you were brought in, and we’ll go from there.”

The truth was, Eunji was a godsend. She walked him through bullet point after bullet point of his chart, and she didn’t just give him affirmative reasons not to worry, she also explained what everything meant. She was patient, and thorough, and nothing like the doctor who’d been in the room recently.

“You know what all of that tells me?” Eunji asked when they’d gotten through the first three pages of the chart.

“Tell me,” Luhan urged.

“I means,” Eunji said in her soft voice, “that you’re suffering from mild shock, a mild conclusion, and slightly elevated blood pressure that I assure you, is an automatic response from your nervous system from the car accident. Because of the trauma, your body is triggering the fight or flight response, and it’s going to take some time for that to wear off. You need to be patient, but those numbers do not indicate a need for immediate concern. You are fine, Luhan. You’re made of sterner things than you give yourself credit for.”

It was just Luhan wasn’t concerned about what kinds of things he personally was made of. He didn’t care about himself at all, compared to his baby.

“But the baby,” Luhan said, voicing his real fear. “Why can’t I feel the baby? Why is—”

Eunji stopped him to say, “You’ve just gone through an extreme trauma, Luhan. You’re riding high on adrenaline right now. And you’d better believe that baby is being effected. Give yourself some time to recover. Give yourself the night. If you don’t feel the regular fetal movement in the morning, then we’ll do additional tests.”

“But it just …” It felt wrong not to feel the baby.

“A lower than normal heart rate,” Eunji explained, “can be normal. None of the numbers you read to me indicate cause for alarm, at least not yet. You’re going to stay in the hospital overnight for a reason, you know. They’ll keep an eye on you and the baby, just in case. And if things are the same tomorrow, you call me right back and I’ll send Bomi over your way. She’s not that far from you, she’s an excellent doctor, and she owes me a pretty big favor.”

Luhan echoed, “Bomi?”

Eunji made a supportive noise. “Yoon Bomi. She’s very good, Luhan. If you still have worries in the morning, or if you just want someone that I trust to look you over, her services are yours. She can give you all the typical tests we would do with slowed fetal movement, and she’ll be kind and patient when she explains to you what it all means. Okay?”

And that, that definitely eased some of the fear in him. Not all of it was gone, not by a long shot, but if Eunji said not to worry yet, then he would do his best not to.

“Okay.”

“You know, Luhan, you’re still in your second trimester. It’s not uncommon for fetal movement to be very irregular.”

“Okay, okay,” Luhan said again, more like a mantra. He felt like he was trying to convince himself. He probably was. “It’s just … this is my baby, Eunji. This is my son.”

“I know,” she said slowly. There was nothing but fondness in her voice. Then she surprised him by saying, “I’m going to send Bomi down to see you tomorrow anyway. I’ll make the call tonight. I’ll feel better knowing that she says everything is perfectly fine. And if … and this is a huge if, Luhan, we need to fix anything, or pay some special attention to that baby of yours, I’ll book a flight right away.”

At her words, Luhan frowned in puzzlement. “Book a … Eunji, why would you need to book a flight? You’re going to be here tomorrow with Chen anyway.”

There was far too much told with the silence that followed.

“Eunji?”

“Chen went ahead of me,” Eunji said, a strain to her words. “To Seoul, that is. I’m with my parents in Jeju. I don’t have any plans to join him in Seoul, either.” She seemed confused too when she asked, “I know Chen got there yesterday. He took the train from Jeju to Seoul. Hasn’t … hasn’t Sehun told you that?”

“No,” Luhan said, mood going flat. “He didn’t.” But it wasn’t as if he and Sehun had been communicating very well over the past few months, but it had been especially bad lately. Still, for Sehun not to mention Chen was in town, was odd.

Thought the bigger question was why Chen and Eunji weren’t traveling together.

Stuck by the oddness, Luhan asked, “So when will you be up here, Eunji? You’re cutting it very short. The party is on Saturday. Suho’s coming in tomorrow morning, and other than you, Lay’s bringing up the rear on Friday night.”

“Luhan,” Eunji said with regret.

“Eunji,” Luhan returned, but before he could press her on her on the issue, the door to his room opened, and in came a nurse Luhan had never seen before.

He watched her eyes drift from his face, down to the phone, and then back up to meet his gaze. She put her hands on her hips and said, “Sir, you can’t use that in here.”

“Eunji, I have to go.” Luhan lowered the phone. He certainly wasn’t done with her, or the concerning reveal that she and Chen had not only not traveled together, but that she also didn’t plan on attending the gathering at all.

“We’re ready to move you to your room now, sir,” the nurse said. “But the hospital really has to insist that you restrict your phone usage to the designated areas.”

Luhan did his best to give her a reassuring smile. “Sorry.” He got the feeling by the look she gave him in return, that his smile had looked just about as fake as it felt.

Twenty minutes later, however, he was tucked away in a room, fetal monitor strapped to his stomach, and his phone completely confiscated.

There was another person in the room, someone snoring behind a curtain, but that was hardly on Luhan’s mind. Instead he cradled his head in his hand as he lay on his side, watching the proof that his son was alive, desperately hoping that in any moment, he’d feel him move.

Luhan must have drifted off. He wasn’t sure when, he hadn’t even been tired, but he must have drifted at some point as the minutes wore on. Because he startled awake. A large sound echoed into the room, and Luhan nearly pulled the IV from the back of his hand as he jerked in response.

Something fiercely tight wrapped around him, shaking and shuddering, warm and solid, and Luhan was practically limp until he realized what it was.

Sehun.

It was Sehun holding him tight, Sehun shaking, and Sehun’s tears against the skin at Luhan’s neck.

“You’re here,” Luhan breathed out, sinking into his husband’s hold. It felt so good to have Sehun with him. Luhan felt stronger for his presence, and more like he could face whatever came next, as long as he had the man he loved, standing next to him.

He could hear Sehun mumbling, “I tried to come back here. I tried to get to you. They made me wait. They made me wait so long to see you.”

Luhan was certain it was past visiting hours now, and since Luhan had been moved out of the emergency section of the hospital, Sehun probably shouldn’t have been able to get to him. But then again Luhan pitied anyone who tried to keep Sehun from his family.

Luhan found the strength to hug Sehun back, and did so as tightly as he could. He assured, “I’m okay. I’m okay, Sehun.”

Sehun drew back slightly, tears in his eyes. “They called me on the phone, and said you had been in a car accident.”

Luhan gave a sharp nod. “I was driving to see you at your work. I … I wanted to talk to you. I had the right away. My light was green. But I think … I mean, I’m sure the driver that hit me didn’t do it on purpose.”

Sehun reared back a little, and his hold on Luhan even lightened. The look of guilt on Sehun’s face certainly wasn’t one that Luhan had expected. What did Sehun have to feel guilty for?

“I thought you …” Sehun managed to squeak out.

Sehun was far, far too prone to falling into his own world, when trauma was presented. He was too capable of slipping through Luhan’s fingers, into irrationality, and Luhan wasn’t prepared to stomach that at the moment.

“I’m okay,” he repeated, and then pushed into Sehun’s hold when his husband’s hands framed his face. “I think they said I have a mild concussion, I had to have stitches for that and the nurses come around to check on me every half hour, but other than that, I’m okay.”

Sehun’s hands fell away from his face, and instead they moved down to cup at his stomach. No words were spoken, and if ever there was a time for the baby to make his presence known, this was it. But instead he remained still and quiet, and Luhan’s heart ached for the opposite.

“We’re okay.”

Even if that was a lie, or even if it wasn’t, Luhan knew that was what Sehun needed to hear, and so he said it.

“I think …” Sehun folded forward a little, putting his ear to Luhan’s stomach and draping over his lap, “I think I can’t do this. I can’t lose you. I can’t do that kind of loss.”

“Good thing for you, you don’t have to.” Luhan let his fingers pet through Sehun’s hair slowly. “Because we are perfectly fine. We’re always going to be okay, in the end. Sometimes there are bumps in the road, but we deal with them, and we’re stronger for them.”

Sehun’s fingers along the skin of his bump, and Luhan let him be.

“I want to talk to your doctor,” Sehun said, sitting up. “I want to hear from her, that you’re okay.”

Luhan reminded, “Chorong is on vacation, remember?”

“I’m not taking any chances with either of you,” Sehun declared. And then seemed to finally pull himself together. There was strength spreading across his face, and in just a few more seconds, he was the pillar that Luhan needed to lean against sometimes. “You are the most important person in the world to me, Luhan. I love you so much I … I still get breathless thinking about it.”

Sehun had such a way of making Luhan feel like a schoolboy again. It was in the way Sehun looked at him so reverently, and touched him so assuredly, and talked like he meant absolutely every declaration of love he said. Sehun could turn Luhan’s knees to jelly still. He kind of hoped that was something that never went away.

“I think,” Luhan tried to joke, bumping his nose gently against Sehun’s, “Youri would be terribly offended by that. You know she likes to remind you constantly that you should love her above all others.”

“I love her with every bit of my heart,” Sehun vowed, and of, that, Luhan had never doubted. “But you,” he continued, “you are my soulmate, Luhan.”

The touch of Sehun’s lips to Luhan’s, sent him into a blissful plunge of respite. He let himself sink into the feeling of love being pressed into him, and soaked it up.

No matter what issues they were having, no matter the miscommunication or uncertainty, they loved each other. Luhan could feel how much when they kissed. And that love rose above all else. The minor problems? Those they could work out. All that mattered was that their kisses felt the same.

Luhan could very much vouch that the kiss he was now sharing with Sehun, felt just as good as the first.

“Have a little faith,” Luhan urged when Sehun dared to pull back a little. His blunt fingernails scratched at the stubble on Luhan’s chin. “Have a little faith that I’m durable, and our baby is strong, and that we’re going to be okay.”

After some pause, Sehun paused, then stole another quick kiss. He asserted, “I know you’re amazing and wonderful, strong and durable. But a car accident … a car accident just like Jae.”

“Not like Jae,” Luhan interrupted. “This was different, and when your nerves calm down, and you can think clearly, you’ll know that. This wasn’t like Jae at all.”

“Just maybe be understanding?” Sehun broached.

“Understanding of what?”

A different voice answered this time, and it was Chen at the door to the room who said, “That he’s probably going to sit on you for the next four months, and you can kiss driving, or going anywhere exciting, or pretty much doing anything, goodbye for a long time.”

Luhan laughed out, “Wait until you see the car. I’m pretty sure I won’t be driving it anywhere, ever again. It’s pretty totaled.”

Chen let out a low whisper. “And you walked away from it.”

Luhan put his arms around Sehun’s neck and hugged him. He told Chen, “I was lucky.” He felt Sehun hug him back right away. “I veered away at the last second. The other car hit the passenger side. The airbags deployed properly. The structure of the car held up. I was definitely lucky.”

“Don’t we always joke about Jae watching out for you?” Sehun asked in a slightly muffled way. He palmed at the back of Luhan’s head protectively. “You know I’m not a big believer. You know I find all that religious stuff … dubious at best. But I feel it, Luhan. I feel Jae out there, watching out for you, watching out for our family. I feel it and it’s undeniable.”

Luhan certainly wasn’t religious at all, either. His parents were Taoists, but Luhan himself hadn’t been raised with any kind of faith in his life, and he had no want for it. For him, there was no desire for such a thing, though he certainly respected the moments when Sehun went to church with Suho’s family, or took part in a faith based activity at the church, from time to time.

Luhan, unlike Sehun who could feel ambiguous at times, certainly didn’t believe in guardian angels.

But if Sehun needed that belief to see him through some rocky events, then by no means was Luhan would to try and dissuade him. He also thought it was incredibly important that Sehun retained ties to his past.

“I take it you brought him,” Luhan asked Chen, meeting his eyes.

Chen nodded. “He was with me when we got the call. And he’s telling the truth. We got here just shortly after you were admitted, but they wouldn’t let anyone in to see you until the initial examination was done. And then they wanted to get you settled. By the time they were telling Sehun that he had to wait until the morning to see you, we called for backup.”

Luhan frowned. “Backup?”

“An attorney,” Chen said with a smirk.

Luhan’s eyebrows went high on his forehead. And then pleasure surged through him at the sight of Kris slipping through the door.

“I’m not an attorney,” Kris corrected.

“No,” Chen agreed, “but you know more about the law than any of us, and you can pass as a lawyer if you want to.” Chen gave Luhan an amused look. “That’s what we made him do.”

Kris crossed to Luhan’s side the bed and practically elbowed Sehun out of the way so he could hug him. Then he said, “I never explicitly said whether I was a lawyer or not. I simply let the hospital know about Sehun’s rights as your husband, and what kind of charges could be levied at them for any breach in procedure. Oh, and did I mention, I actually know a chair member of this hospital? One who holds significant stock?”

“You’re amazing,” Luhan said awed.

“You’re trouble,” Kris said back to him. But then his face softened and he said, “Are you really okay?”

“I am,” Luhan assured. His eyes drifted to Chen pointedly, and he said, “I spoke to Eunji on the phone earlier, just to be safe. She thinks my numbers aren’t a cause for concern right now, but she’s sending a specialist friend of hers over to see me in the morning, just in case.”

Chen went white at the mention of Eunji. And Sehun’s stiffening body posture said that he knew he was moments away from being caught hiding the fact that he already knew Eunji and Chen hadn’t traveled together.

“She had a few, very interesting things to say,” Luhan said, an edge to his words. “I think we’re going to have a lot to talk about later. Don’t you think Chen? Sehun?”

Looking bewildered, Kris just struggled and said, “I got Sehun permission to stay overnight at the hospital with you in the room. You don’t have to worry about being separated.”

“Thank you,” Luhan said, meaning it deeply.

“Not a problem,” Kris said. “Now can I go home?”

“Go, go,” Luhan urged. Then he turned to Sehun sharply and asked, “What about Youri? Where is she? Is she okay? Does she know what’s going on?”

There was fresh fear bubbling at the back of Luhan’s throat at the mere mention of his daughter. She could have been with him in the car. If Luhan had decided to take her with him, or if there’d been a need for it, she might have been involved in the car accident. And Youri’s car seat sat behind the passenger seat. She would have been on the impact side of the car.

“I called around,” Chen assured Luhan. “Xiumin’s got Youri. He’s going to take her over to his house for the night and keep her distracted. As far as she’s concerned, you and Sehun are off having fun without her, or doing boring adult things, or whatever Xiumin wants to sell her on. My point is, she’s none the wiser of what happened, and I kind of get the feeling that’s what you’d prefer.”

Sehun gave a serious nod. “Absolutely.”

“I don’t want to worry her,” Luhan said.

“Then,” Chen eased out, “I’m going to go too, okay. I need to make some calls and let everyone know you’re okay. They all wanted to charge down here and storm the hospital, and they just barely listened to me when I said that wasn’t a great idea. If they know you’re doing okay, they’ll be less likely to bother you.”

“You guys aren’t a bother,” Luhan said with a chuckle.

“Yes you are,” Luhan’s roommate announced sharply, throwing a pillow in their direction. “I’m trying to sleep!”

Chen burst into laughter as he made for the door.

“I guess it’s just me and you now,” Sehun whispered at Luhan. He leveled himself up on the bed after kicking his shoes off and stretched out next to Luhan. He put his arm around Luhan and pulled him in close.

“The three of us,” Luhan laughed out.

Sehun agreed, “Okay, the three of us.” He made a point of smoothing down the fabric of Luhan’s hospital pajama top over his bump. “Youri aside, all the matters are the three of us right now.”

Luhan gave a hum of agreement.

At some point, between the nurses coming to check on him, and them trying to get Sehun off the bed before giving up, Luhan eventually fell asleep. Sehun slept through the night with him as well, bundling them together under the blankets. And if Luhan tried hard enough, he could pretend they were together at home, in their bedroom, and nothing bad had happened.

When he woke in the morning to sun creeping along the floor in the hospital room, it was to the soft murmur of a voice. The regular hustle of the hospital was going behind the closed door, but all Luhan could hear was Sehun’s voice.

For just a few more seconds he played as if he wasn’t awake, so he could hear Sehun say, “—we try to be a pretty boring couple of parents, I promise. Stuff like this? It happens rarely, so don’t be worried. God, don’t get paranoid like me. I swear, you’re safe in there. Your baba? He is the strongest, best protector I know. He won’t let anything happen to you. So make sure you stay in there all the way until it’s time for you to be born. Don’t get any bright ideas about coming out early.”

Luhan nearly reacted on impulse alone. He’d gotten pumped full of drugs almost from the moment he’d arrived, by doctors who were afraid that the trauma of the crash might have triggered early labor, after they’d found a fetal heartbeat. While it had become apparent quickly enough that he wasn’t going to go into early labor, it was something that was scary to imagine.

He was only five months along. Maybe he was closer to six months than five, but five was five. If his baby was born now, his chances of survival would be too small to wager on.

“I’m not saying I don’t love you,” Sehun urged. “Trust me, you’ll never come close to understanding how much I love you. It isn’t measurable. But I want you to stay in there as long as you need. You’re not done growing yet. So how about we make a deal? No more overly exciting things happening on the outside, and you stay in there until the right time. Deal?”

Luhan was seconds away from responding, feeling so fond of Sehun he had to kiss him, when he felt it.

He felt it so soft at first, he almost missed it. But then it happened again, stronger than before, and Luhan knew. He knew what it was.

The baby had moved.

Tears welled up before Luhan could even think about stopping them, and when he blinked his eyes open, tears were spilling out.

His baby was moving, and as he did, it felt more and more natural. Normal. Right.

“Hey there,” Sehun said, realizing he was awake and craning up to kiss him. “What’s with the tears? Something wrong?”

“I’m just happy,” Luhan promised. He reached out to press down on the sweet spot of his stomach, and right away, the baby kicked back.

“You sure?” Sehun asked, already half out of the bed like he was going to spring for a doctor.

“I swear,” Luhan promised. “Everything is good now.”

Bomi arrived at the hospital a little under an hour after that. By then Luhan had been looked over by a regular doctor, been able to freshen up, and was feeling far more like his regular self than he’d thought possible a day earlier.

“We just want to make sure,” Sehun said to Bomi when she had them in a private examination room and was running the ultrasound wand across Luhan’s stomach. “Because Luhan’s current doctor is out of the country at the moment, and we need to know for sure, from someone we trust, that we have nothing to worry about.”

“Or,” Luhan interrupted, “someone who trusts you.”

Bomi, not thrown off by the words at all, gave a confident nod and said, “Of course. I completely understand. Eunji’s an old friend of mine. We did a residency together at one point. And when she said you two were good friends of hers, and that she needed someone more than just competent to ease your fears, I was happy to come up here. A car accident is a serious thing.”

Luhan said, with a dry mouth, “Yesterday the baby’s heartbeat was a little slow.”

Bomi squinted at the screen, taking her time, obviously thorough as she moved the wand around.

“The heartrate is back into an area I’d want to see,” she said, offering a supportive grin to them. “And here, look here, this is your baby’s amniotic sack.” She pointed it out on the screen, and waited until they both nodded. “It looks fully intact, with nothing leaking, and I don’t have any concerns about it at all. Now, let’s get a look at that son of yours.”

Sehun was holding his hand tightly when he said, “We’re really excited to get a 3-D ultrasound in a month. We can’t wait to see which of us he looks more like.”

“It certainly will give you a better look,” Bomi agreed. “I can see his nose here, and his fingers, all toes accounted for, and everything in between. But features are a little harder. Still, from a purely medical standpoint, everything looks perfect. Heart looks good, skull looks good, and importantly, his spine. I think you can officially stop worrying, gentlemen.”

“Thank god,”

Luhan squeeze Sehun’s hand “He’s fine, Sehun. He’s perfect.”

“I don’t see why you need to stick around the hospital,” Bomi said, handing him a cloth to clean the jell off his stomach. “I’ve looked your chart over, Luhan. You’re in good health, and this little guy, he’s perfect. If you want, I can help get you out of here a little faster.”

“Please,” Luhan said, nearly desperate.

“I’m going to advise you to rest at home for the next couple of days,” Bomi cautioned. “Everything looks good now, but we want to be safe and cautious all the same. If you notice any cramping, any bleeding, or if anything doesn’t feel right, don’t wait. Come back to the hospital right away.”

Luhan gave her his promise, and then he was on the fast track to getting out of the hospital.

“I didn’t think about this,” Sehun said when they were standing in front of the first main parking lot nearest the hospital. A day previous Chen had been the one to drive Sehun, and he’d also been the one who parked the car. He’d secured a parking spot very near the front, but now Sehun was reeking of apprehension, and Luhan was looking at the car like it was the enemy.

“It’s irrational,” Luhan said, shifting his weight between his feet. “I didn’t cause the car accident. And the car didn’t do anything wrong. There’s nothing wrong about cars in general.”

“I’ll drive extra slow,” Sehun promised. “But if we don’t go home in a car, I don’t know how we’re going to get home at all.”

“It’s fine,” Luhan finally decided. If he and the baby were fine, then driving home in a car would be, too.

But by the time they were in the car, Sehun was making no effort to turn it on.

“We can’t get there without actually driving,” Luhan urged gently. “And I want to see Youri. I want to shower and lay down in my own bed.”

“I just …”

Sehun leaned over to cup the side of Luhan’s face with hand. “I just want to say again, a million times over, how much I love you. Seriously, I’m still so freaked out. I could have lost you. I could have lost everything. And I know it was an accident. I know I need to not dwell on this, but I just want to pull my hair out and scream, and I don’t know how to deal with that.”

Luhan turned to kiss the inside of Sehun’s wrist. “Do you know why I was coming to see you at your office?”

Sehun shook his head, though he looked like he at least suspected.

“We haven’t been communicating,” Luhan said. “We haven’t been talking to each other like we should. And this? This just served as a reminder of how easily we could lose it all. So we can’t keep going on like we’ve been before. It’s time to start talking to each other. I want to do that today.”

Sehun gripped the steering wheel tightly, then admitted, “Something happened at work. Something I didn’t tell you.”

“But you’re willing to tell me now?”

Sehun gave a somber nod.

Luhan laced his fingers across his stomach then and said, “So let’s go home and talk.”