Neither of them are really tied down to a routine. Between Yixing’s band gigs and Yifan’s modeling jobs, they’re lucky to see other for more than a few hours during the week. Despite that, they’re able to make their relationship work, due partly to their agreement to not work on Sundays.

Any other day he doesn’t work, Yifan would love to sleep in all morning, until at least noon, but he doesn’t mind being woken up at 7 when Yixing presses little kisses to the corners of his mouth.

“Good morning.” Yixing keeps his voice low, not wanting his voice to break the stillness in their small studio apartment.

Yifan groans as he fights off the sleep that’s still clinging to him, but his lips quirk up into a smile at the sight of his boyfriend’s tussled bedhead. “Good morning,” he replies, craning his neck up for another kiss, which Yixing returns eagerly. “How long have you been watching me this morning?”

Yixing smiles unabashed and shrugs. “About 20 minutes. I like watching you sleep.”

Sitting up, Yifan stretches his arms above his head and shuffles off to the bathroom before he can make breakfast. When he emerges from the bathroom, Yixing is lying on his stomach in bed, fast asleep as far as he can tell. It’s unusual for the younger man to fall asleep so quickly, but in the past 3 weeks he’d played 14 gigs, so it’s not too out of the ordinary for him to be tired.

Not having the heart to wake him, Yifan goes about making breakfast, simple scrambled eggs with cheese (about the only thing he doesn’t burn) while glancing up to look over at the sleeping man.

When he’s done cooking and the plates are set, he walks over to the bed to shake Yixing awake. “Breakfast’s ready.”

Yixing sleepily smiles at him, and rolls over to his bed. “I knew I kept you around for a reason.” He kisses Yifan for a few seconds, and when he pulls away his face is drained of color. “Excuse me,” is all Yifan gets before he’s pushed away so Yixing can run to the bathroom and retch into the toilet.

“I hope that’s not because you kissed me,” Yifan voices as he rubs his lover’s back and pulls his bangs back.

Yixing lets out a short laugh and spits into the toilet. “I promise you that’s not it. I’ve been a little sick lately; I threw up after Friday’s show.”

“You should get that checked if it continues, alright?” He gets a nod in return, and he pats Yixing’s back. “I’ll run around the corner and get you crackers.”

“And something for the nausea?”

“Of course. Drink some water while I’m gone.”

It takes Yifan at least 20 minutes to dress, jog down to the convenience store, and buy crackers, so he’s surprised to see that his boyfriend is still sitting on the bathroom floor.

“Are you still feeling sick?” he asks worriedly, immediately dropping the crackers and crutching by Yixing’s side.

Yixing shrugs and rests his head against the toilet’s lid. “I was pretty much alright before I walked out and smelled the eggs. Twice.”

“The smell… made you sick?”

Yixing nods and whines. “Can you do something about them? I hate throwing up.”

“Yeah, of course.” The confusion on his face is apparent as he uses the shopping bag from the convenience store to dump the eggs in. For good measure he even lights a candle to mask the smell. “Is this okay?”

Standing up from his position on the floor, Yixing steps out of the bathroom and breathes a sigh of relief when breathing the air doesn’t make him gag. “Ah, perfect. I don’t even feel that nauseous anymore, but I’ll stick to crackers just in case.” He grabs the box and sprawls out on the couch to watch their small television set.

//

On his next morning off, Yifan drags Yixing to the hospital, and while he’s complaining the whole trip there, he’s been silent since he came out to the waiting room where Yifan had been waiting for him. He had tried several times to ask what the doctor had said, but the younger man brushes him off, saying that it’s nothing life threatening.

Instead, he asks Yifan to drive to an outdoor food court where there’s more of a variety for them to eat lunch. Before Yifan can fully park the car, Yixing is already flinging the door open to throw up on the concrete.

“You parked in front of a all-day breakfast bar? Of all places, you think that this was an appropriate place to park?” Yixing snaps, and he exits the car before Yifan can attempt to move the car.

Since the day before, Yixing had been in a sour mood, making things tense between them. Throughout their 4-year relationship, he can count the number of times Yixing’s been in this kind of mood on one hand. Usually, he never gets this cold unless they have a particularly nasty fight, so he can only wonder what it is he did.

When he finally parks and has the chance to chase Yixing down, he finds him in an authentic French restaurant, gorging himself on French cheese. There’s several things wrong with the picture, the main one being that Yixing has clearly expressed his distaste for any kind of French food.

Also, he’s crying while his mouth is full.

He’s by Yixing’s side within a few seconds, wiping his tears and kissing his face, uncaring of the people watching them. “Xing, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did I do something?”

Yixing shakes his head, allowing small bits of cheese to fly from his mouth. “T-this is just the best cheese I’ve e-ever tasted!”

Yifan is so stunned that he can only stare, searching for the right words. “Um… okay? The cheese is so good that you’re sad?”

“I just don’t want it to come back up because than this whole eating experience would be pointless.” He sniffs and stuffs another piece of cheese in his already full mouth.

“We can buy a wheel to take home. And why would it come back up? Did the doctor tell you what you have?” More small bits fly from Yixing’s mouth and Yifan holds a napkin over his boyfriend’s mouth and tells him to swallow before he speaks.

“I might be sick for the next 3 or 4 weeks,” he starts, making little indents in his meal with his knife. “Probably in the morning, but maybe throughout the whole day.”

“Stomach virus?”

“Pregnancy.”

Yifan stares at his boyfriend, mouth slightly open and eyes wide.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“I’m ready to go.” Yixing suddenly stands up from his seat and exits the restaurant, leaving Yifan to pay for the block of cheese he ate.

Everything feels like a dream as he drives back to their apartment. Neither of them says a word to each other, leaving the radio as the only noise in the car.

Soon after they get back, Yifan has to leave again for a photo-shoot, and though the only thing he wants to do is stay and talk to Yixing, he’s out the door after a quick kiss to his cheek.

//

Yifan’s not sure if Yixing’s purposely avoiding him, but he doesn’t see his boyfriend until after 11 Saturday night. Yixing’s hair and clothes are clinging to his body, a telltale sign that he just came back from a gig. While this particular appearance usually has him pulling Yixing straight into bed, there’s the small matter of becoming parents that they need to discuss.

“Xing, we need to talk,” he expresses in a quiet tone.

“Yeah, just- just give me a second, alright?” Yixing doesn’t wait for an answer before he locks himself in the bathroom for the next half hour. His hair is still wet when he exits, this time from the shower, and he’s wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

“Are you upset?” Yixing asks, sitting beside Yifan on their couch.

Yifan frowns and tilts his head. “Why would I be upset?”

“Well,” the younger man absently picks up the television remote and fiddles with it. “I know how much you love this apartment… I mean, it means a lot to me, too, but it’s the first thing you bought with your modeling money, but it’s not big enough for us and a baby.”

“…Have you seriously been upset for this whole week over having to move out of this apartment?” Yixing nods and wipes at his eyes when tears threaten to fall. He lets out a small scream when Yifan half-tackles him and pins him to the arm of the couch.  “Do you have any idea how much I thought you were regretting this?”

Yixing shrugs. “Why would I regret it? We’ve been talking about it for over a year, and how could I regret something that’s a part of you?”

Yifan brushes Yixing’s bangs out of the way and kisses his forehead. “I love you more than this apartment.”

“I love this apartment,” Yixing grumbles back.