Warning(s): angst
Length: 7.7k words

Ange has been hugging herself into a fetal position for so long that her legs have started aching. She only moves to blink and breathe—and to touch her lower stomach with a newfound hesitation. With her palm on the bare skin of her abdomen, she can feel the small bump that she thought came from overeating and stress. For weeks, she attributed strange weight gains and nausea to heartbreak and other mental anguish, but now, with her eyes closed and trying very hard not to cry, she realizes the true cause of her afflictions.

The small bump on her stomach is, in fact, a growing child. A baby. Hers. And Baekhyun’s.

As much as Ange wants to deny her own reality, she is pregnant, and it is Baekhyun’s. There is no other man in Ange’s life that has known her more emotionally, physically, figuratively than Baekhyun. No one else even comes remotely close.

I’m only 20, Ange thinks to herself, and her chest starts to hurt a little more because she has never been so young and lonely. At this moment, the only person she knows to be consistent in her own life hasn’t even been born yet. The unknown stranger growing within her, the small bump beneath her palm, the cause of many ill mornings—ironically, whoever they are, they’re the only thing that makes her a little less lonely.

When holding the sobs in becomes unbearable, Ange finally unfurls herself from her fetal position to hold her head in her hands and cry. She grabs the pillow behind her and screams into it as the crushing implications envelop her like a vice. Bubbles of anxiety form in Ange’s stomach and burst in , coming forth as ugly, uncontrollable hiccups. The more that she tries to stop, the harder it becomes. Her crying gets so bad that she almost doesn’t even notice the gentle hand on her shoulder—Jongin.

“It’s time for your antibiotics,” Jongin murmurs as Ange holds her head up.

“I-I-I can’t be pregnant,” Ange weeps. She attempts to wipe the tears from her face, but they come as fast as they go. Jongin holds out the two antibiotic pills in front of her along with a glass of water, but Ange ignores it to implore some sort of help from him. “Jongin,” she cries, “I-I-I can’t be pregnant. I-I-I-I d-don’t know how to-to—”

“Ange,” Jongin whispers as he sits himself on the bed next to her. “Listen to me, it’s okay.” Ange wants to ask how on earth can it be okay, but Jongin continues speaking. “It’s okay to be scared and not know what to do. It’s normal. Everyone feels like that at some point,” he says in a somber tone. “I know it’s hard right now, and I don’t know what it’s like to be pregnant, but…” Jongin pauses to take a deep breath, and he looks directly into Ange’s wet eyes while she finally manages to regain control of her sobbing. “Every single person who has ever struggled,” Jongin says, “is a lot stronger than they give themselves credit for.” He nudges his chin. “You’re strong, Ange, so you’re going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, but I do,” Jongin insists, piquing Ange’s interest. “I’m a nurse. I’ve met all kinds of people. The young ones, the old ones, the good ones, the bad ones.” Jongin shrugs, as if a thousand memories just flashed before his eyes. “I know how to distinguish between strong people and weak people too.”

“I look ‘strong’ to you? I-I can’t stop crying.”

“Strong people cry all the time,” Jongin answers softly. “A sign of emotion isn’t a sign of weakness, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Ange appreciates the sentiment, but she doesn’t feel any better about herself.

“I-I-I don’t know what to do,” Ange confesses, sniffling as she takes the antibiotics from Jongin’s palm. After swallowing the pills with a few gulps of water, she feels better—but only slightly. “I’m only 20. I-I c-can’t even take of myself. W-What am I gonna do? I-I can’t be pregnant,” she stammers.

“Well, you live in a very fortunate era where you have a choice.”

“A choice?” Ange frowns, not quite understanding what Jongin means. When the realization crosses her mind, however, she gasps softly. “You mean, like, I should get rid of it?”

“I didn’t say that,” Jongin states firmly. “I said that you have a choice. If you want to keep it, great. If you don’t, that’s great too. Whatever it is, I’m just reminding you,” Jongin says as he stands up, “that you have options. No one’s forcing you into anything, okay?” He looks into Ange’s eyes to make sure that she understands him, and she does—a little. “By the way,” he adds, “it’s almost 9. If you want to go home now, get a friend or a taxi.”

Before Jongin can walk away, Ange calls for him. “Wait,” she says, and he turns around. “Should I…” Ange pauses, unsure of how to word her question. Surely, Jongin must have seen and heard strange things as a nurse, but she still feels uncomfortable asking him for anything that pertains to a pregnancy that she hasn’t wrapped her mind around yet. “Do you think,” Ange coughs, “that Baekhyun would be mad at me if I, um, uh, if I didn’t keep it?”

Jongin doesn’t pause for a moment to think. “It shouldn’t matter,” he replies, “because it’s your body and your choice—not his.”

“No, but Jongin,” Ange whines, desperate for an answer, “do you think he would be mad at me?”

This time, Jongin does pause, and he sighs too. “No,” he answers with more candor. “I knew him when we were too young to be thinking of the future, so we never really thought about that kind of stuff.” Jongin’s brows twitches, frowning for a moment, like he’s thinking of the things that he and Baekhyun used to talk about. “But I knew that if we—if he wanted a family, he’d just want them to be safe. Stable. With no fear of having to run.”

Ange doesn’t know if that tidbit of information can influence her decision on how to move forward, but she nods like it does. She’s young too—only 20, and he’s not much older than she is, so the two of them never even discussed the idea of starting a family. Even the very idea of it never crossed her mind. When it came to being with Baekhyun—literally and figuratively, the future never felt like a tangible, reachable thing that could and would happen. It always felt like that they only had the present and nothing else. Not even yesterday was theirs to claim.

“Jongin, is Baekhyun okay?” Ange asks after a brief pause.

“Well, he’s on the third floor,” Jongin answers gently. “You wanna come see him?”

Ange’s heart rate does a little dance. “Is he doing okay?” she asks in a small voice. “Is he awake?”

“He’s not awake,” Jongin says, and Ange’s heart drops, “but he’s a little more stable than he was before his surgery.” He gives his best attempt at a smile. “I can get you to see him. You’re family, after all.”

Ange parts her lips slightly and says nothing else as she slides out of the hospital bed to walk towards Jongin. Her wounded leg, the one with the stitches and bandages, still causes her to hobble with a limp, but Jongin offers a helping hand that she gladly takes. From there, the two of them take an elevator that is much slower than Ange remembers, and it stops at an unknown floor with a stronger smell of antiseptic than any other floor.

Jongin leads Ange down a long corridor with many windows peeking into rooms. Some of the windows have their curtains closed, indicating a possible patient, but most are open, giving sight into rooms without patients. At the end of the hallway is another window, but this one overlooks the hospital’s parking lot, and beneath the dark sky, past its leafless trees, is the twinkling city lights of Daegu’s skyline. Ange wants to take a moment to stare outside, but Jongin opens a door—Baekhyun’s door—so she dutifully follows him inside.

“Is that really…” Ange fights hard to stop herself from crying again.

From a distance, she can’t even recognize the person on the bed as Baekhyun. Upon getting closer, Ange still can’t tell. His neck is still in a brace, tubes are still connected to him through his arms and mouth, and more than half of his face is obscured by bandages. The entire right side of his face is wrapped with bandages, and only a few centimeters of skin is exposed. Although the left side of his face doesn’t share the same fate, his cheek has several stitches running along from near the inner corner of his closed eye all the way down to his jawline. Seeing the stitches causes great anxiety in Ange because she can’t imagine what horrific wound that must have been—and how much it must have hurt him. Additionally, his injuries aren’t just facial; his right arm is in a cast, and both of his hands are bandaged as well.

“What happened?” Ange whispers, looking at the parts of Baekhyun’s face that she can identify. It’s extremely difficult to tell with so much of his face covered in bandages or bruises, but she can still point out the small moles by his nose bridge. She yearns to look at her favorite mole of his—the one on his temple—but it’s hidden underneath the bandages.

“I’m not sure, but the EMTs said that a truck hit his car from the side, smashing his into a light pole.” Jongin takes a deep breath. “I don’t know much about what actually happened. I just know about the injuries.”

“And what are they?” Ange is afraid to ask, but morbid curiosity and an ache in her heart encourage her to ask regardless.

“Um, well,” Jongin stammers, seemingly hesitant to answer, “one of the doctors said that he has a traumatic brain injury from a concussion. He was unconscious when they brought him to the hospital, and he hasn’t woken up since then, so it’s pretty bad.”

“Did he break his arm?” Ange queries, too scared to hear more about Baekhyun’s concussion. She knows what a concussion is, and she knows that one severe enough can result in amnesia or brain damage in general.

“He broke his radius and ulna, so yes,” Jongin confirms. “He also broke a few ribs and punctured his lungs. That’s why we’re supplementing him with oxygen. He can’t breathe on his own yet.”

Ange’s mouth trembles just looking at all of the machines around Baekhyun. She doesn’t understand what any of them do, but she can still follow their wires, and she can still trace each one that connect to his body.  An IV drip leads into left arm, and Ange gently touches the back of his bandaged hand, wishing that she could lace her fingers through his. Unfortunately, she can only touch the soft bandages and pretend that she’s holding his hand once more.

“Why is his face all wrapped up?” Ange asks. “And his hands?”

“Metal debris from his car,” Jongin replies. “I guess when his car crumpled up, his face hit some sharp metal edges because he had a big gash there,” he says as he motions towards the stitches on Baekhyun’s exposed cheek. “That one wasn’t as bad the other ones though. One of the doctors was talking about how he has a facial fracture on his right side, and they were worried about it getting infected.”

A facial fracture? Ange didn’t even realize that facial fractures could exist. She takes a shaky breath and holds back a whimper for the sake of looking strong.

“What about his hands?” Ange asks Jongin. “What happened?”

“I-I don’t know. It’s hearsay.” The abrupt shakiness of Jongin’s voice makes Ange’s stomach churn. “He was unconscious when he got here, but the EMTs, um, they said that, uh, he was still conscious on site. Part of the car that hit him caught on fire, and he, um, uh, he was trying to get out apparently. He burned parts of his hands and cut them up with glass too.”

Before she can even realize it, Ange is already imagining the horrific idea of a badly wounded Baekhyun trying to live. It must have been horrible for him. He must have been frightened out of his mind—trapped in a car, bleeding all over, broken all over, and despite the pain, still fighting for a way out. Ange can only begin to think of that environment and how much resiliency he must have had. He must have given it all of his strength. A fighter like him wouldn’t give up so easily.

“Is he going to wake up?” Ange asks after a while.

“I don’t know. I just hear what the doctors say.”

“And what are they saying?”

Jongin doesn’t say anything for a bit, prompting Ange to look at him directly. His mouth is pursed, almost as if he doesn’t want to tell her.

“He sustained a lot of injuries,” Jongin says quietly. “His contusion is pretty bad too, but the fact that he’s still here with us is really good news.”

“What does that mean?” Ange hisses. She’s had enough of the non-answer answers. “Is he gonna wake up or not?”

“No one knows,” Jongin finally says. “Okay? It’s bad, Ange, and I mean that very seriously. It’s pretty awful. Physical injuries aside, he’s going to have brain damage.” Jongin’s voice is quiet, but his tone has gone dire. “Brain injuries are the most unpredictable to treat because of what they can do.”

That’s right. Ange doesn’t need to be a genius to know how brain injuries can affect a person. Since the brain is such a fragile organ, it doesn’t take much to cause great damage. In Baekhyun’s case, after sustaining such heavy injuries, it’s only likely that he’ll be affected in one way or another. While Ange hates that it’s likely, there’s nothing she can do but curse the world for allowing this to happen to her beloved Baekhyun.

It’s so unfair.

“Can I talk to him in private?” Ange requests of Jongin.

“Take as much time as you need,” Jongin replies. “I need to get back to my shift anyways.”

Jongin leaves the room and closes the door behind him, allowing Ange a moment with Baekhyun alone. There are no chairs in his room since visitors must be limited, so she stands by his aside, his arm since she can’t hold his hand.

“Hi, Baek,” Ange whispers to Baekhyun. She’s not sure if her words can even reach him; he must be heavily medicated or at least heavily asleep, but who is she if she doesn’t try? “I heard everything you said to me. I’m sorry that, uh,” Ange swallows her sobs but fails to contain her tears, “that I couldn’t tell you sooner, but I love you too. I love you so much t-that I don’t even care about what you did or didn’t do.”

Ange wipes her tears away and places her hand over Baekhyun’s. “I-I-I was so angry about Kyungsoo, b-but it doesn’t even matter anymore. I love you. Can you hear me?” Ange mouth trembles as she pleads the universe for some comfort. A twitch of the eye. A whimper. Anything that looks like a sign of consciousness. “I love you, and I-I just need you back, okay? You can’t leave me here by myself,” Ange weeps. “W-What a-am I g-going to do without you? Baek, what are we,” she murmurs, “going to do without you?”

With one hand on top of Baekhyun’s, Ange places her other one atop her growing belly.

“You can’t leave,” Ange mumbles tearfully, “because I’m gonna be a mom…and you’re gonna be a dad.” It feels so strange to say that. Ange almost doesn’t feel worthy enough to say it because those words seem to be reserved for couples who know what they’re doing with their lives—not 20-somethings with no idea of what tomorrow looks like. “I don’t wanna do this,” Ange confesses, “by myself. I can’t do this by myself. I-I-I haven’t even taken the goddamn driver’s test yet, I can’t take care of a kid alone.”

Her tears start to fall harder when she imagines herself trying to raise a child on her own. If it’s bad enough to live a life without Baekhyun, it’s even worse to think of raising his child with an absent parent. In her mind, in her picture-perfect world, she would be having a child with her brother to help out on the weekends and a partner by her side to navigate what parenthood is. At the very least, she’d would have a partner, but even that seems too much to ask for at such a critical moment.

“Just wake up,” Ange begs, “and we can forget anything bad ever happened. Please. Don’t leave me here. Please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Ange is ugly-sobbing, and she can barely stand without hunching forever, but she continues to implore the unconsciousness Baekhyun for a promise that’s out of his control. “Come back to me,” Ange croaks. “Please. Please. I need you. I love you. Can you hear me? Baekhyun.”

When begging doesn’t seem to work and her wounded leg is throbbing by its stitches, Ange leans towards Baekhyun’s face. She traces a line parallel to the stitches on his face—from the inner corner of his eye all the way down to his jawline. The memories of that night, on the bench, in front of the river, all come back to Ange. He was so tense that night, so wound up that he reprimanded her for doing that. However, every other time she did it afterwards, he never minded again. He only ever looked at her with tender eyes and a soft heart that whispered, “go ahead.” This time is different, though. This time, Baekhyun doesn’t even move, and he only has one, unbandaged eye capable of opening.

But it doesn’t open.

Even when Ange finally leaves six minutes later, his eye doesn’t open.

- - - - -

Ange wants Taeyong to drive faster so they can get to the hospital faster, but he reasonably drives at a steady pace.

“Are you sure you got enough sleep?” Taeyong asks her. He drove her back home at around 10, and although she slept almost immediately after taking a shower, it’s