21 weeks

Siwon is drunk. He's so drunk, in fact, that he thinks calling his best friend – his best friend who has a gun – and telling him that his stepsister is having a baby is a good idea.

He's not sure why he thinks it's going to work out. All he can really feel is pain, though the alcohol is doing a damn good job of blotting it out. Somehow, through the pounding of his skull and the swirl of champagne in his stomach, he's decided that speaking to Heechul will help. That his best friend will comfort him when the whole world has gone topsy-turvy, and he feels like he's lost something he didn't even know he had.

The dialtone sounds, and then, as the phone bleeps in his ear, he contemplates his decision. There's a chance that Heechul won't even answer, seeing as he's supposed to be busy doing army...stuff. He wouldn't know what it was. He's been kept out of the army thus far.

There's no chance to back out, however, as Heechul picks up after four rings. “Hello?” He sounds surprised, and Siwon supposes he's entitled to that. It is three in the morning, after all. Not exactly polite social hours.

He in a breath, and – for better or for worse – gets straight to it. “She's having some other guy's baby, hyung.” He laughs, the sound miserable and halfway to a sob. “She's having Kim-ing-Hyunjae's baby, and not mine.” Heechul is silent on the other end of the line, but he expected that. It's not as if he's just telling him about the ing weather, oh no – he's telling Heechul that his baby sister is pregnant. And to top it all off, that he also slept with said sister.

If it wasn't already quite clear he has a deathwish, it is now.

He sniffles, wiping his nose off with the back of his hand. The silence is unnerving: Heechul does not do quiet. He's never done quiet. Kim Heechul is not the reflective type – he's loud, boisterous, a little too much in big doses and he always knows the funniest thing to say. “Hyung?”

“Who's pregnant, Siwon?” The tension is so thick that it almost crackles over the telephone line. “What the happened, and why don't I know about it?”

He can't help the dripping sarcasm, although that's always been Heechul's forte rather than his. “Who do you think, hyung? Take a wild guess, why don't – “

“I don't want to guess, Siwon.” His voice is cold, hard – harder than he's ever heard it. There's a roughness to Heechul right now that he's never seen, because Heechul is all sleek, sharp wit. He'll tear you apart with a few choice words and leave you to bleed without a second thought, but he's not rough. That wouldn't fit his image. “I want to know, and unless you ing tell me right now, I will march over there and blow you to smithereens with the gun the army has been so kind as to provide me with.” There's a pause, before he continues. “Understand?”

He's always been so good at following orders, so it stands to reason that he responds without any semblance of a fight. “Hyerin.” The word sticks in his throat. “It's Hyerin.”

“So that good-for-nothing piece of has impregnated my sister, and I'm stuck here.” The line cuts out for a second, and all Siwon can hear is a series of muffled curses. “!”

“Yeah,” his voice is dull, devoid of any emotion. He's tired of feeling anything. His emotions don't even make any sense – he doesn't think he's ever felt so much, and his head is so full of thoughts it's an effort to keep the conversation going.

“Did you sleep with her too?” Heechul's voice is so quiet, so controlled – it's scarier than it would if he was screaming, and even in his inebriated state, Siwon feels the danger. “You slept with my little sister and could have knocked her up?”

He regrets the words as soon as he says them, but he can't stop them spilling out. “Oh, no. I wasn't that lucky. It's his. Hyunjae's.” There's a broken laugh, but he falls silent when Heechul doesn't say anything on the other line. “H-hyung?” He stutters, his head clearing as he begins to realise just how much trouble he is in with his best friend.

“Where is my sister, Siwon?” The words are clipped, as if Heechul is trying – and not really succeeding – to sound calm. “Are you with her?”

He's never felt more ashamed than he does when he admits that he isn't. “I couldn't – I had to,” he stutters.

“So you're not, then?” Heechul cuts through his muttering with the precision of a butcher.

“It's not mine,” he repeats, as if it's an actual defence. “She married me and now it's not mine.” It takes him longer than it should do to realise what he's said – the alcohol has numbed him and lowered his inhibitions; he does not think before he speaks.

There's a tiny, shocked noise on the other line, before Heechul releases a torrent of angry words. “What the were you thinking, Siwon? You married her? When the did that happen – what the hell have you been doing?” The betrayal is clear. Heechul has always been protective of his siblings, and here is his best friend, loving and leaving his little sister.

His head is beginning to hurt. “I didn't – I offered because I thought – we didn't know.” The words are a jumble of nonsense, the ache in his head stopping him from making any coherent sense.

“And you just left her?” Heechul asks slowly, as if speaking to someone who doesn't quite understand the language. “My sister is alone, and pregnant, and you just left her there?”

The anger in his voice is palpable, and as Heechul's voice rises, Siwon's stomach drops. “I – I...it's not mine, hyung.” His voice cracks. “I couldn't –”

“That's the biggest load of I've ever heard,” Heechul's voice has become a hiss because when he's furious, he doesn't yell. He whispers his fury and lets your imagination do the work. “You're going to let Kim Hyunjae – Kim Hyunjae – turn her into his broodmare?”

The accusation isn't entirely fair, but Siwon has no idea how to refute Heechul's claims when he promised Hyerin he'd be there for her whatever happened. “I...” He pauses, head swimming as the pain of realising that Hyerin is no longer his crashes through him once more. “It's the right thing to do,” he says stiffly. “It's not my child, it should have its real fath – ”

“Its 'real father' won't give a .” There's a bitter note to Heechul's voice, an unspoken resentment, and Siwon knows it's a thinly-veiled criticism of his own father. “So Hyerin is damned if she does, and damned if she doesn't.”

“That's not my problem.” The words are shaky, uncertain because he knows Heechul will just rip into him.

“You love her, you little !” Heechul snarls, the volume of his voice causing Siwon to almost drop his phone. He hears a muffled snap in the background, and then a low groan. “Don't think I didn't notice. All these years, you pining after her like a lovesick little puppy. I waited for you to make your move, because I thought you'd make her happy and now – ” He curses, unable to speak for a few moments.

“I'm not in love with her.” The denial springs to his lips instantly, but it tastes bitter. It's not true. He does love her, he knows.

It's just a little too late.

Heechul's snort is derisive, but a little less condescending than he expected. “Don't lie to yourself, Siwon,” he sighs. “You're in love with her.”

***

Hyerin loses all sense of pride; over the week, she spends every waking moment calling Siwon. She becomes so used to his answerphone message that she repeats it in her sleep – when she gets any. Narae watches over her everyday, face drawn, as she attempts to coax her away from the phone and into bed.

But she can't. She needs to get through to him, to talk to him to – what? She doesn't really know. All she knows is that there's a hole inside of her, threatening to cave in and take her whole self with it. She can't go outside without a reporter grinning at her, the old ladies in her building sending her dirty looks as if she's nothing more than a cockroach.

Gossip Girl reports on her downfall with barely repressed glee, with pictures of Siwon storming from her home – god knows how she got them – plastered all over the website. She stares at them at night, when she should really be asleep, stomach churning as she looks for something – anything – to indicate he'll be able to forgive her.

She doesn't really eat, either, and as her stomach grows, her cheeks hollow. Anything she eats, she throws up, her stomach unable to process anything that isn't tepid water or crackers.

“Hyerin,” Narae entreats, on the fourth day with no word from Siwon. “Eat, please. Just put the phone down and rest. We can do anything you want – I'll get you macarons, anything.”

The idea of macarons just reminds her of Siwon, and she shakes her head mutely, phone still pressed to her ear. The person you are trying to call is unavailable right now. Please try again later. She mouths along with the words, fingers clenching.

“Please,” Narae tries again, the concern pulling her face into harsh lines. She hasn't been home in nearly a week, too worried about her best friend to check in with her family. “Honey, I'm scared,” she admits quietly, as if the admission will draw her friend out of this stupor. “Give him time, I'm sure he'll come – ”

“I need to hear his voice,” she says, her voice hoarse, “I need him to tell me what he's thinking.”

“Honey,” Narae sighs, voice careful, “he's not talking to anyone. We've all tried, remember?” Even Sungah has tried calling him, and – out of earshot – has left several angry messages about his callous dismissal of her mistress, someone she knows as well as if she were her own child.

“He will,” Hyerin tells her, with less conviction than she would like. “He has to, he has to give in sometime, and – ” She claps a hand over , phone dropping to the floor as she sprints to the bathroom. Her stomach has taken to constantly emptying its contents again, even though she's past the first trimester.

Her stomach heaves, but nothing comes out, and soon she is reduced to gulping in air, arms clasped over the sides of the toilet. The tears start as hiccups at first, but soon become quiet sobs, and when Narae pulls her into her arms, she doesn't resist.

“I'm so scared, Rae,” she says breathlessly, clinging onto her best friend as if she is her only lifeline. “I'm so tired of being scared and sick and he made it better, and I want him back.” She chokes on a sob, burying her tearstained face into Narae's shirt.

Narae her hair, her heart breaking. “I know,” she says helplessly, because it is the only thing she can say, “I know.”

***

When Heechul calls to tell her he knows, a day later, her entire body freezes. “Know what?” She says, attempting to keep her voice even.

She can imagine him rolling his eyes. The familiar image is oddly comforting, and she clutches the phone to her ear tightly. “About the baby,” he says flatly. “About your...marriage.”

She takes a shaking breath. “Ah. That.”

“Yes,” Heechul says, “that.”

Neither one of them speak for a moment, and as she scrambles for something to say – for a way to explain this in a way that will make him forgive her, he sighs. “Siwon called me,” he tells her instead.

Something switches on inside of her. “He called you? Where is he? Is he going to speak to me?” Somewhere, deep inside, she's embarrassed by the questions, but right now – when all she can focus on is the loss – she doesn't care.

“I don't know,” Heechul says carefully. “I'm more concerned about you.” He clears his throat, and when he speaks once more, he sounds hurt. “Why didn't you tell me, Rinnie?”

At once, she is transported back to her tearful, five year old state, this strange boy she has been landed with as a 'brother,' telling her it was all okay when her mother screamed at her for being too loud. Heechul has always been a good brother; his tender side is not one that many are privy to.

“I tried,” she says lamely, thinking back to her phonecall at the beginning of all this, when she didn't know what to do and wanted his comfort, “but everything happened so fast.” She swallows.

“What are you going to do?” He asks, pushing the hurt away, back into a compartment in the back of his mind. They've all betrayed each other at one point or another.

“I don't know,” she says simply, because it is the truth. “I don't know.” She looks down at her stomach, at the obvious roundness of it. “I have absolutely no idea.”

She doesn't mention how she prays for Siwon to come back to her. She's not even sure if she can articulate such an intense longing; he is at once her saviour, and her source of ruin, and through it all, she can't help but want him with a fierce desire she's never felt before.

“Oh, Hyerin-ah,” he says gently, “I'm sorry.”

She bites her lip to keep the tears from filling her eyes. “Sorry for what?”

He blows out a breath; the sound rustles through the phone, tickling her ear. “Just sorry,” he says sadly.

***

It's her last resort, as she hurries to the penthouse suite of Kyuhyun's family hotel. Kyuhyun – uncontrollable wild-child that he is – was banished to his own, luxurious set of rooms long ago. As she walks, she keeps her head down, and her hat low. It will do her no good to be recognised.

She's exhausted all other avenues, and there is little else she can do, with Siwon still not returning her calls and the rest of society shunning her like good little puritans. Kyuhyun is apart from all this, simply by virtue of the fact that he doesn't care. 

“I need to talk to you.” Hyerin shivers in the Kyuhyun's doorway, not from the cold – but rather, from the fear that even Kyuhyun, resident devil-may-care reprobate – will reject her. 

Kyuhyun raises one dark eyebrow. “About getting knocked up? I have to say, I think you know how that happened, but I don't mind giving you a little reminder.” His eyes glitter, one hand reaching out for her face. She slaps him away, heart thumping wildly because if even Kyuhyun won't listen to her, she stands no chance. “I've never had a pregnant girl before.”

She glares, fingers clenching in an effort to keep herself from punching him. This isn't funny. It's not okay. Her life is falling to pieces, and it's all because of a stupid baby she's not even sure she wants. “Well, you won't be having this pregnant girl, so get your mind out of the gutter.” She pushes past him, high heels clicking against the hardwood floors because she's too vain to stop wearing them.

He shrugs gracefully, shutting the door to his hotel room like it was all his idea to let her in anyway. “You're missing out, but fine. What is it you want to talk about, anyway?” He waves a dismissive hand, sliding behind the mini-bar to fix himself yet another drink. Zhou Mi's supposed to visit him later. He's not sure he's ready – actually, he knows he's not, but to admit he's scared of what Zhou Mi does to him would be admitting weakness. And that's not how they play this little game of theirs. “I'm not very good at this...comforting business.” He says it like a dirty word.

“I'm not asking for comfort.” She snaps, although it's not true. She's desperate for comfort – desperate for someone to say it'll all be okay, for someone to tell her this baby isn't real and to take the responsibility for her like they always do, but it's time to face up to the truth: no one's coming, and she has to rely on herself for a change. It's a pity she's not sure there's much left of her to rely on, but she's not giving up. Whatever happens, she can't give up. “I'm asking for you to talk to Siwon for me.” She looks away, because Kyuhyun will mock her for the tears in her eyes and she's not willing to deal with that. “I – I can't get through to him.”

Kyuhyun snorts, one finger lazily circling the rim of his wineglass. “Oh, I don't think I'll be of much help right now.” It's nasty, and cruel and a million other things Zhou Mi accuses him of being, but he can't stop himself – can't stop the rush of power being such a bastard gives him. “He's gone off the deep end, and well,” – he gives the self-deprecating smile most call charming – “I doubt he'd want to talk to me. I'm the licentious cad, remember? It's not like I'd know anything about broken hearts and love and all that nonsense, is it?”

The knowing look she gives him sends a shiver down his spine. “He's not talking to Heechul. He's not talking to Narae. And he's not talking to Zhou Mi, so I'm coming to you.” Her hands are trembling, but that's just from the cold, she tells herself. It's not because she's scared. Song Hyerin does not get scared by insignificant things like gossip. She doesn't.

He groans. “What makes you think he'll even talk to me? He's gone AWOL. Just let him have his tantrum and talk to him then, it's not like he can ever stay away from you for very long.” If Kyuhyun is honest – and he rarely ever is – he has no idea why they aren't together anyway. They're both lovesick puppies around one another, it's revolting. Isn't that what people are supposed to aspire to? If it's about the money, well, it's not as if Siwon is poor, even by Hyerin's impossibly high standards.

It's not like everyone can live on their mother's numerous divorce settlements and trust funds, after all.

Hyerin's throat is unpleasantly tight. “He's not coming back. He's got no reason to come back.” She swallows, unwilling to put voice to the next words – but she has to. She might be very good at lying to herself, but there are some things you just can't fake, especially when they're splashed all over the front page of Gossip Girl. “It's not his baby.”

“He can forget that.” Kyuhyun tells her, voice uncharacteristically kind. She blames the glass of wine in his hand. “For you, he'd forget that.”

She presses her lips together, tamping the emotion back down and forcing a glassy expression on her face. In this world, people don't respond to real emotions; it's all about the caricatures, the overdone I'm so sorry, darling's!, and the smug smirks hidden behind hands because for once, it's not their dirty secrets out for public consumption. Oh, it happens to all of them – but there are varying degrees of scandal, and Hyerin and her unwitting baby have crossed a line that few are going to forgive or forget. “Well, we can't test that theory unless he talks to me. So...”

Kyuhyun regards her with a strangely thoughtful look again. “No, I suppose you can't.” He gestures to the mini-bar. “Can I get you a drink? Non-alcoholic, of course.” That supercilious smile appears again, because he may like her, but everyone enjoys laughing at someone else's expense.

She's about to say no – to play nice – when she suddenly thinks the better of it. To hell with this child. It's ruined everything, and with all that's happened, she deserves a drink. “A scotch, please,” she says coldly. “On the rocks.”

He raises an eyebrow, but says nothing, and she's grateful for that. Of all her friends, Kyuhyun is the one who will give you the means of your destruction with as little judgement as possible, and right now, that's exactly what she needs. “I didn't know you were a whiskey girl,” he pours her drink with the finesse of a well-trained bartender, which, she supposes, he kind of is.

She takes the glass with a murmured thanks, smiling a little bitterly. “There's a lot you don't know about me.”

“True,” he tells her, a little curious. “I didn't think you'd be the one to get knocked up out of wedlock. I thought you'd be too smart for that.”

“Well, condoms break,” she mutters, a little harshly. She would normally try to feel some guilt for thinking about the child like this, but she's given up on caring.

“Yes, they do.” Kyuhyun smirks. “But I always thought it would be our perfect little Narae who'd end up the unwed mother. Perfection like that needs to be...” He hums, thinking of the right word. The smirk widens when he finds it. “Violated.”

She stares at him, a little unnerved at the way he rolls the word on his tongue. “Zhou Mi's right.” She pulls a face. “You are disgusting.”

Kyuhyun snorts as she takes a sip of her drink, before knocking it back in one. “Yes, but he likes that.”

is on fire, but she doesn't cough. The burn is a pleasant distraction from the overwhelming desire to cry. “I'm sure he does,” she murmurs, amused. “But it doesn't make you any less disturbing.”

He shakes his head. “I'm not disturbing. I do all of the things everyone else does. The difference is,” he says, tipping his drink to her, “is that I don't hide any of it. And that's what you all find so...disgusting.” His voice is mocking, but she finds that she likes that.

This time, she looks at him properly. Kyuhyun is well-groomed and well-turned out. He will never be as well-dressed as Zhou Mi – he's never really been concerned with style – but his insouciant, devil-may-care attitude is attractive in its own way. He's the rich boy version of a rebel: young, bored, and with the cash to indulge all of his whims.

Her next question starts off casually, but the pounding in her chest belies her true intentions. She shakes her glass at him for a refill. He clucks, but refills it anyway. “Then I'm surprised you haven't had a pregnant girl before, if you're so...adventurous.”

He laughs. “You coming onto me, Hyerin-ah?” She blushes, but says nothing, not sure what she's doing at all. He chuckles, but sobers up a little. “Well, I could have, I suppose...but never with a girl I knew was pregnant.”

“Have you ever gotten anyone pregnant?” She asks curiously, sipping at her drink delicately. No downing it all in one, this time. She has some limits.

His smile falls. “Again, not that I'm aware of.” He furrows his eyebrows, expression a little confused. “Why are you asking me these things, Hyerin?”

She shrugs helplessly. “I don't know.” She swallows down a gulp of her drink, setting it down on the side for a moment. “I'm just...interested, I guess.”

He snorts, but turns away when his phone buzzes. He grabs it almost immediately, hating himself for his hastiness. Not tonight. The text is curt, as it always is. Busy. He supposes he shouldn't be disappointed; he shouldn't even care, really – he has plenty of other people to satisfy any ual urges he might have tonight.

It's not that he misses Zhou Mi, although he certainly prefers the other man to most in the bedroom. It's just the easy dismissal, the lacklustre excuse; the insinuation that – once again – he doesn't really matter. He's never been the most important person in the room. Even his mother – though she loves him – has never been overly concerned.

For her, it's always been enough to shepherd him in the direction of healthcare professionals and comfort herself in the fact she's done her maternal duty with as little effort as possible.

Hyerin gives him a concerned look, hair falling over one eye. “Everything alright, Kyu?”

He forces a smile, tossing the phone aside. “Everything's ing fantastic,” he tells her, lips straining against his blinding smile.

She doesn't comment, although she knows he's lying. “Always is,” she says, tone wry. She pushes her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. She looks younger like that – less world-weary and calculating, as she glances at his phone out of the corner of her eye. “Did you get dumped for someone more important?”

Kyuhyun snorts at the hint of sympathy in her voice. “Always,” he mirrors her own words back at her bitterly. He glares at his phone for a second, before snapping back to his role as genial host. “Another drink?”

She holds out her glass for him. “Oh, yes,” she says carelessly, as if she were just here for the pleasure of getting drunk, “yes please.”

***

Later, when she's drunk enough to be sure it's the alcohol talking and not her, she whispers, “I don't want to be alone,” shutting her eyes tight so that the tears don't fall. “I'm tired of being alone.”

The thumb that wipes away her tears is unexpectedly gentle. “I don't either,” Kyuhyun says, sounding more vulnerable than she's ever heard him before. “Everyone makes me feel alone.”

The kiss is less of a surprise than she thought it would be, and though she responds, she knows that Kyuhyun is aware she's not giving him everything. He is not Siwon. He isn't who she really wants.

But he's there, and he's strangely kind and – for all his bluster and talk – he understands. He's a warm body for the night; someone who won't ever tell a soul what they did, and won't push her away because he never pushes anyone away.

“Are you sure?” He mutters against her lips.

She pushes her body against his in response. “Yeah,” she murmurs, tears still trickling down her cheeks and the memory of Siwon's furious expression behind her eyelids, “I'm sure.”

***

She wakes up with a dull pounding behind her eyes and a tongue that feels like sandpaper. For a moment, she just lies still, hoping that by willing the pain away, she'll feel a little less like death incarnate. It doesn't work – but she didn't really think it would, anyway.

Her eyes are heavy; she can almost feel how her mascara has welded the lids shut. A part of her desperately does not want to open her eyes, but she's going to have to eventually. At least to find her phone and call someone to get her out of this mess.

Slowly, she pushes herself upright, her head whirling with the effort. She cringes at the pain, and – dreading what she'll see – looks over to the left of her. Kyuhyun lies on his front, arms thrown over the pillow. His mouth is half-open in sleep, drool collecting in the corners.

. She says the word out loud, as softly as she can. She doesn't want to wake him, doesn't want the awkward morning after – hell, she doesn't even want to remember doing any of this, if she can help it. Her head buzzes as she cautiously steps out of the bed, and – flushing a dark crimson when she sees her clothes flung on the floor – she unsteadily makes her way to the bathroom.

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, she puts her head in her hands and tries to decide what she would rather do: throw up, or call her best friend.

She picks calling her best friend.

***

“Narae?” She whispers her best friend's name, the taste of vomit in the back of . “Rae, I'm sorry.” A soft, broken sound makes its way out of , and she curses herself for being pathetic. “I'm really sorry, but I need you.”

She can hear a sharp intake of breath on the other line. “Hyerin, what happened – ”

“I did something bad, Rae,” she whispers, trying to rein in the sob. “I did something really bad, and I don't know how to get home.”

To her credit, Narae snaps to it pretty quickly. “Where are you, Rin?” She says – orders, really. “Tell me where you are, and I'll come get you.”

She can't help but cry when she says that, though whether it's from guilt or relief, she can't tell. “K-Kyuhyun's,” she mumbles, feeling her cheeks burn in shame. “I'm in Kyuhyun's suite.” Her voice is stronger, now, and she thanks God that she didn't wake up in Kyuhyun's arms, or something equally disturbing.

Narae is silent on the other line for a moment, before she says “I'm coming,” and signs off.

***

Narae takes her home in a town car, tactfully saying nothing about the state of her face and her dress. The driver, however, tuts, and tells her “He's not worth it, love.”

It draws a snort out of her, if nothing else. 

Once home, she pushes past a concerned Sungah, making a beeline for the bathroom, and as soon as she opens the door, she locks it. She doesn't want anyone seeing; doesn't want anyone to witness the shame of falling to her knees in front of the toilet.

She heaves over the toilet bowl, her head spinning from the lack of oxygen and aching like a from all the whiskey. Her fingers shake as she tugs her hair back with one hand, and she retches once more.

Her stomach feels like it's on fire. She knows she's hungry – she can feel her it rumbling – but one look down at the way her belly protrudes, and suddenly she decides food is really something she'd rather not partake in.

“I'm such an idiot,” she mutters, more to herself than anything else. There's no one here to listen; no one here to care. She couldn't bear the idea of Narae seeing her like this; couldn't deal with the sighs, the gentle “Oh, Hyerin” and the comforting hand on her back.

No. This is hers, if nothing else. If she wants to drink herself stupid while pregnant, then she will, and she will deal with the consequences herself. At least, that's what she thinks as her stomach spasms once more, and her body pukes out what little there's left of its own accord.

She feels absolutely disgusting. She looks disgusting, too, she knows; her hair is in rat's tails, her slept-in makeup ruined by tears and her dress creased beyond repair. She looks like a after a one night stand, which – she reflects bitterly – is only the truth.

“Hyerin?” Narae calls for her softly – so softly she could pretend she didn't hear anything – and raps on the door twice. “Are you okay?”

It's a stupid question, but she doesn't have the energy to tell her just how awful she feels right now. She's waiting for the guilt to kick in, but all she can really think about is how she was lucky to forget how terrible a hangover can be.

Is there something wrong with her? Because she's beginning to think so. Where is this mythical maternal gene that's supposed to kick in as soon as you have the misfortune to be impregnated by some good-for-nothing loser? She's seen hide nor hair of hers.

“I'm fine,” she croaks back, the lie apparent as she upchucks into the toilet again.

***

She stays in there so long that Narae becomes worried, and as soon as she emerges, she's told they have an appointment with the doctor. There's no time to even complain, or disagree, because Narae has her forced into the shower and in clean clothes faster than she can say no.

So she goes along with it, and finds herself lying on the crinkly paper of a hospital bed, as a doctor examines her. Her head pounds as he passes an ultrasound probe over her belly, and she stares at the screen listlessly, the otherworldly thwomp-thwomp-thwomp of the baby's heartbeat in the background adding to her headache. “There's the head,” the doctor says, pointing it out with a pen. All she can think is thank god this one's not as perky as the last one. “And the body,” The baby shifts as she watches, body twisting, and she sees a flash of its spinal cord.

She turns away.

Narae her hair gently, murmuring something about everything being okay, but she's not really listening. The baby doesn't engender any sort of warm reaction from her, not on the screen as its eerie, pixellated form twitches onscreen. It's just a timebomb, waiting to go off. And she's in no way ready for the explosion.

“The baby's a bit small,” the doctor clicks his tongue, moving the probe slowly, “have you been eating properly, Ms Song? Taking the vitamins?”

Miss Song. It's not like her shotgun marriage means anything, anyway. “Eating's...hard,” she says softly, avoiding the truth.

“Are you feeling too nauseous?” The doctor's voice is crisp, the question devoid of any emotion.

She doesn't know what to say. So she nods silently, staring at the screen.

Nauseous is a good description for how she feels right now.

“Well, if it gets any worse, you should tell us,” he continues, pressing the probe firmly down on the swell of her stomach. She wonders if he's doing it deliberately, to punish her for being such a bad mother, for not doing what she's supposed to. “Hmm,” he murmurs, more to himself than her. “The baby is in quite a good position, Ms Song,” he nods towards the screen, where the baby's image flickers. “Are you interested in knowing the of your child?”

Narae's hand stills in her hair, and she says something about it being her choice, but she doesn't really care. She shrugs, for once not afraid of the doctor's reaction to her lack of interest.

The doctor seems to take the shrug as a yes. “It's a boy,” he says brusquely. He doesn't seem overly excited, but then she supposes he does this a lot. He doesn't really care.

She nods back, and tries to form an expression that looks pleased. She can tell by the slightly perturbed look on his face that her forced smile is unconvincing. She can't find it within herself to care.

***

“I don't want it,” she says, twisting the paper bag containing her prescriptions around in her hands. “I don't want this baby.”

Narae watches her hands, face blank. “Okay.” She says, voice gentle. Only someone who knows her well – someone like Hyerin – would be able to hear the judgement in her tone. “If you're sure.”

“I am sure,” she snaps, temper fraying at the edges. Narae looks hurt, but she doesn't apologise. She's not in the mood. “It's caused me nothing but trouble. I'll – I'll,” her voice cracks, fear twisting in her stomach, but she carries on, “I'll carry it to term, and get it adopted. It can have real parents, far away from me.”

Parents who can love it in the way she won't be able to, not after it's ruined everything for her. It'll have a better life than she will, she muses wryly, tearing at the paper in her hands.

“Okay,” Narae says again, sounding so gentle and kind and understanding that it makes her want to scream at her to stop. “Okay.”

“But I can't do it here.” Her hands shake, and she stares down at them. “Not here.”

“All right,” Narae says matter-of-factly, “then that's settled.” She smiles, a sudden, brilliant smile that lights up her already beautiful face. Hyerin's stomach twists with jealousy. “We're moving.”

...there is another Gossip Girl quote in this chapter. Title from Chuck and Blair's theme song, by The s.