Three more cheap pregnancy tests later and he finds himself waiting to hear his name on a bright early Saturday afternoon in the clinic’s waiting room. The place has him feeling all kinds of uncomfortable, and the awkward posters of basic hygiene, safe and prevention plastered on the wall beside him make the feeling of being uncomfortable ten times worse.

Scheduling an appointment had been fairly easy– maybe it had something to do with how anxious and young he sounded over the phone or maybe the nurse who managed to sweet-talk answers out of his tightlipped self as to why he was calling was kind enough squeeze him into a doctor’s already packed Saturday schedule.

Jongin sits in the corner of the waiting room, his backpack still on his back and navy cap covering his eyes as he looks down at his hands.

He unconsciously tries to make himself appear small and he refuses to look up, wants to avoid making unnecessary eye contact– he already feels judged for being here even though no one as so much as glanced his way.

He wipes his clammy hands on his jeans hastily before interlocking them together and staring intently at all his pores– he tries to find the flaws on his skin to avoid his mind from wandering off to why he’s even here.

His right leg starts to bounce restlessly and he has to calm it by placing his hands between his thighs and squeezing them. He feels a few pairs of eyes turning to him– or maybe he’s just so paranoid and thinks the strangers are all observing him under a microscope.

He’s supposed to be in the subway waiting for the train. He’s supposed to be on his way to his boyfriend’s university– over to his dorm to spend the weekend because this is the only chance and the longest he gets to be around Chanyeol without his parents’ prying eyes.

His parents and Chanyeol think he’s on the way there and he knows it won’t be long before Chanyeol calls or texts him asking him what’s taking him so long or if he’s even coming over.

He doesn’t want to stay with Chanyeol this weekend because he knows the latter will know something’s up and jump to conclusions– Chanyeol likes to overanalyze his actions.

He’s not ready to tell Chanyeol about this nor does he think he’ll ever be ready to say it aloud to anyone. He doesn’t want to know his reaction to this – he doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle anything negative.

Chanyeol hates being caught off guard and this certainly will kick him off whatever lane he’s on and he won’t know what to do.

Jongin won’t risk it, not until he knows for sure that he really is pregnant and even then he’s positive he won’t run his mouth to Chanyeol about it. But pregnancy tests aren’t always accurate; the warning comes before the instructions at the back and he hopes this is the case.

Maybe it’s cancer? He read somewhere on the internet that pregnancy tests can show if a man has testicular cancer.

He foolishly hopes it’s cancer and that’s a stupid and selfish thing to wish for because his grandmother croaked after living with cancer for the last thirteen years of her life and he remembers how much his grandmother struggling with it broke his own father.

“Kim Jongin?”

He stays frozen in his seat moments after his name is called out. He hesitantly looks up to find a lady behind the receptionist desk smiling at him and pointing in the left direction, “Dr. Jung’s waiting for you.” She smiles once more before she sits back on her chair and turns back to whatever she was reading.

He adjusts his backpack on his back, takes off his cap and holds it tightly in his hands before stalking over in the direction she pointed towards. His feet are heavy and time seems to slow down– the doctor’s office isn’t all that hard to find because it’s the second door down to the left.

He knocks even though the door’s a big ajar– hears the soft come on in and hesitates some more before pushing the door and entering. Heart begins to pound at the sight of the lady doctor– she looks warm and kind, but his heart won’t stop screaming, he feels faint.

“Okay?” The lady doctor tilts her head to the side and questioningly stares at him. She gestures for him to come over after he nods and holds her hand out for him. Her handshake is firm and something tells him she won’t treat him like a child.

She points to the chairs in front of her and Jongin gladly takes a seat even though he’s sitting on it as if he’s about to bolt at any given moment– the chair is worse than the one he sat on in the waiting room; it’s cold and hard and he finds it oddly comforting.

He doesn’t take off his backpack and it feels like it weighs a ton– a change of clothes, toiletries and Monday’s homework at the only things in his backpack.

“I’m Jung Woomi,” She tells him once he’s seated. Yeah, I saw it on the door, he wishes to say, but his tongue is heavy. “Kim Jongin?” She asks like she doesn’t know.

“Kim Jongin,” He repeats, sounding rather foolish because his own name ends as a question.

“Your SSN, please?” She asks, fingers over her keyboard and he stares at her because he doesn’t know what SSN is. He stays silent and fiddles with his fingers. “Social Security Number,” She answers and he knows she must repeat the characters a lot because of how amused she sounds.

“Why?” He asks, pauses and lifts his eyes from her keyboard to her face. She’s really pretty.

“Because I need to look through your healthcare history,” She pauses, “Is this your first time at the doctor’s without an adult?”

The last time he was anywhere near a doctor was when he was twelve and broke his wrist– his mother took charge and was his mouth during the whole visit because doctors intimidated him back then and they still do now.

“You’re not sending anything over there, are you?” He questions right after giving her the 11 digits she needs. His right leg slowly starts bouncing, he feels himself getting a little panicked– the last thing he needs is his parents finding out where he was and why.

“Do you want me to?” She eyes him intently and he sharply looks away from her, shaking his head seconds later. “I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

It’s silent as she types whatever she’s typing into her keyboard; he doesn’t break it because he has nothing to say– he doesn’t even know what to say to her. “Can you please tell me why you are here?”

“I – I told the nurse why,” He swallows, not wanting to repeat the symptoms or think about them too much. “Before she gave me this appointment,” He adds in a rush and looks down at his trembling hands failing to hold onto his cap.

He can still feel the weight of the cheapest tests he could find in the pharmacy. The lines were so faint he could hardly see them, but the tests mean nothing because in his gut he already knows he is.

“She documented why,” The doctor looks at him, “I’d like it very much if you told me yourself.”

He shifts in his chair, the backpack weighing more than a ton now and his tongue even heavier. Sitting on the edge of the chair is not comfortable, but he’s alright with being uncomfortable right now. “I don’t know,” He starts slowly, “I’ve been feeling weird– threw up too many times to count last week. I don’t know– I, uh, Googled whatever I felt,” He stops himself because Google gave him a long list of what he might be ill with. Pregnancy was the most logical because he’s not paranoid enough to think it’s anything too life-threatening. “I don’t know,” He shrugs, “Just been feeling off and I don’t know when it started– I took some pregnan–” The word gets stuck and dies on his throat and he tries to block how much he felt like utter when he saw all the positive results.

“Are you ually active?” A nod from him, his ear tips burn. “Do you always use condoms?” A sharp nod and she sighs, “Have you talked to an adult?” She frowns a bit when he shakes his head, “Told a friend?” He doesn’t even have friends. “How about the father–?”

“Nobody!” He interrupts loudly and shrinks back into his seat when she looks startled at his little outburst. “Haven’t told anybody,” He says, a lot quieter now and a lot more embarrassed than before.

“First,” She straightens her posture, “We need a blood test and to know how far along you are before we can proceed.” She continues, “Have you thought about what you want to do if you really are pregnant?”

Of course he has thought that far– his searches on Google are proof enough, but looking for answers on Google are proving to be useless because now he’s even more at a loss and more frightened.

He glares at the cap in his hands, bites his lower lip and makes a noise at the back of his throat. “All I want is for–” He rubs his hand over his eyes, “Nobody has to know– it’s none of their business.” He murmurs.

She cracks her knuckles and Jongin thinks for a doctor, she’s being too patient with him. “You have three options,” He looks up at her and opens his mouth, but she quickly holds her hand up to stop him, “Let me finish,” She brings her hand back on her desk when he nods, “Parenting, adoption or abortion– you need to be confident in what you choose–”

“If you were me,” He cuts in, “What would you choose?” Something flickers in her eyes, but it’s gone away too quickly and even though he caught what it was, he wouldn’t know what it meant.

“The decision is yours,” She holds his gaze; “I don’t know your situation, Jongin– is it okay if I call you that?” He shrugs, “I need you to talk to someone you’re more comfortable with– an adult, please.”

He visibly shrinks– the only adults he knows are his parents and grandfather– his older brother, Jongdae, is off in his third year of university doing who knows what and telling him something like this is as though Jongin is begging to get chewed out by him.

And Chanyeol isn’t an adult yet, he will be in a few months though. “Monday,” He forces the word out, “I want an appointment on Monday for the,” He swallows thickly and looks down at his lap. His clenches and unclenches his fists for a few moments before answering, “For the last option.”

()()()()

yay first chapter is out of the way gshjdkflg haven’t proofread and probably won’t, oops. sixteen is the age of consent where I live just so we’re clear, ssn is used for like everything important obvs and abortion is free too jsyk. Plotline will be 'shaping' itself as I write because I can’t seem to settle on one idea, but I know how it ends so I’ll be working towards that >.> next update will be posted on Saturdayヽ(●´ω｀●)ﾉ