UPDATEEE YAYYYY

Yeonjun sits hunched over on his couch, the pregnancy test shaking in his hand. Beomgyu offered to stay while Yeonjun told Juwon, or at least to linger around the neighborhood, but Yeonjun sent him away. There are few things in life that he's done alone, but this needs to be one of them.

He's not sure what time Juwon will return from work. With no idea how long to hold his breath for, Yeonjun's never hated Juwon's irregular work schedule more than he does tonight. He thought about making dinner like usual, but his hands trembled too much for him to a hold a knife. Neither of them will have much of an appetite after this conversation, anyway.

The key pad cover hitting against the stop. Four beeps. The turn of the doorknob.

Yeonjun unfurls his aching back and stands up. The pregnancy test hangs loose from his fingertips like a stray hair on his sweater. He creeps towards the door.

Juwon is in the middle of taking off his shoes. "Oh, hey," he says, looking up with a surprised smile. Yeonjun doesn't usually meet him at the door.

Wordless, Yeonjun holds out the pregnancy test.

Juwon finishes taking off his shoes, unhurried, and takes the test. "Two lines means...?"

"It's positive."

Juwon's face erupts into a smile, his teeth sparkling, his eyes turning to crescent-moons. His skin appears smoother and shinier, his cheeks fuller. He picks Yeonjun up and spins him around, rocks from side to side as he hugs him. He kisses Yeonjun's cheek, his forehead, everything he has access to.

Yeonjun doesn't know the last time he's seen Juwon so happy. Was it when he proposed, and Yeonjun said yes? Juwon cycles through few emotions like his everyday wardrobe: exhausted, stressed, remorseful, and horny. Happiness is like an expensive suit, only making appearances on special occasions.

Finally, Juwon pulls away and gets a good look at Yeonjun's face.

"What's wrong?" That smile, that beautiful expression, is already fracturing. Yeonjun feels it: tears, again. Juwon wipes them again, but says nothing.

"What's wrong?" Juwon repeats.

Yeonjun tries to summon the words he rehearsed so many times before Juwon arrived. I'm not ready to have a baby. I want to have an abortion. But the words tangle together into an incomprehensible knot. "No. I can't. I can't have a baby."

"What do you mean? It's positive, Junie."

Yeonjun shakes his head hard. "No. I don't want it. I want an abortion. I need an abortion. I need —" Yeonjun's breath hitches, his words start blending together. "You need to agree to it, that's the law. Please, alpha. I can't have this baby. I need—"

"Okay, let's sit down," Juwon says, and for the millionth time that day, Yeonjun is led over to the catch, instructed to catch his breath. They face one another cross-legged, Juwon holding Yeonjun's hands in a firm grip.

"Where is this coming from?" Juwon asks.

Yeonjun swallows. "I'm just not ready for a baby. I'm only 25."

"But we've talked a lot about this," Juwon speaks to Yeonjun as if he's a feral kitten. It doesn't what's good for him, it needs an adult to calm it down and lead the way. "We've been trying for a long time. It's not like this is an accident."

"I know, but I'm not ready."

"What changed your mind?" Juwon asks.

Yeonjun stares at the wall to the right of Juwon's head. How can he explain it? He never changed his mind; he just expected to. He always expected that one day, he would wake up and be ready for a baby. His lie would become the truth; and the persona clinging to his skin would finally seep into his soul. But it never happened, and perhaps it never will.

"You're just getting cold feet, Yeonjun," Juwon says. "It must feel scary, but you can do this, okay? You're going to be an amazing parent."

"No. I need an abortion."

"I think you just need to sleep on it, take some time, calm down a little."

Juwon's not getting it.

"You're not thinking clearly," Juwon says.

But how could he get it, when Yeonjun's never explained it?

"I need an abortion," Yeonjun repeats. Heat rises in Yeonjun's body, from his toes to the crown of his head. It itches and burns him, and it takes everything in him not to run away from it.

"You're just panicking. You don't need to make a decision right now. Let's just—"

Yeonjun wrenches his hands out of Juwon's grasp and launches himself off of the couch. As he finds his birth control under the kitchen cabinet, Juwon asks, distantly, "What are you doing?"

Yeonjun tosses the birth control pack to Juwon, who catches it easily. He looks down at it, eyebrows furrowed.

"What is this?"

"It's my birth control." The words rush out of him like a broken dam, and for a moment, Yeonjun feels instant relief at the release of pressure. Until it dawns on him what he just admitted to.

Juwon's hand stills, as if ice is growing out from the birth control and encasing his forearm. His eyes frozen, everything frozen apart from his chest, which rises and falls with increasing speed.

"How long have you been taking this?" He sounds as if he's run a marathon, he's so breathless. His cheeks are still ruddy from the cold, his fingers red.

"Since I started college," Yeonjun breathes.

Juwon lifts his foolish, devastated face. "You said you wanted a baby."

"I did. Or, I thought I would, eventually. But then it just never happened. Maybe one day, I will, but right now..."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Yeonjun can't answer

Juwon's lips curl back and he throws the birth control across the room. It doesn't land anywhere near Yeonjun, but he still flinches.

"I've stayed at this stupid job, working 100 hour weeks, being fucking degraded every day because I thought I needed to because we were going to have a baby! Why would you let me keep going there when you know it's pointless?" After five years together, Juwon raises his voice at him. It's not first time Yeonjun's seen his anger, but it's the first time he's seen it dominate Juwon's entire body like this. His voice is a roar, his arms are gesticulating weapons at his sides.

"I'm sorry." Yeonjun's voice trembles.

"If I had known, I would have quit. I would have found something else, I would have taken time off... How could you do that to me? How could you let me stay there when you knew how bad it was for me?"

"I'm sorry."

"And — Do you know how worried my parents are? Do you know how many times I've had to convince them not to bother you about seeing a fertility specialist? Because I didn't want you to feel guilty." He laughs. "You should have felt guilty."

"I do. I'm sorry, alpha, I'm so— I'm so sorry."

"Yeonjun," he snaps. "I need to know why."

Yeonjun shakes his head. "You wanted a baby. And I should want the same things you want. You wanted to get married and have a baby, and I — I love you. I wanted to marry you, so I needed to be an omega who wanted a baby, and I thought one day I would be one, and — I'm sorry. I just wanted to be a good omega."

"Good omegas don't lie to their husbands."

Yeonjun's been waiting for it the entire conversation: the moment that he cries. Finally, it's here. As tears roll down Yeonjun's cheeks, fast and hot, like the tears of a cartoon character's, Juwon scoffs.

"Don't start crying," Juwon says. "Don't start crying like you're the victim here. You're the one who did something wrong."

"I know."

Juwon collapses onto the couch, his head in his hands. Yeonjun sniffs, trying to stop his tears, but it's like putting his hands over a running tap: no matter how hard he presses down, it keeps on coming. Juwon's body quivers and gives way to a guttural sob.

Yeonjun can count the times he's seen Juwon cry. First, because his boss, forcing alcohol down his throat until he was violently ill. Second, because work was too demands and his colleagues too harsh. And third, because of Yeonjun.

Yeonjun begins to understand how selfish he's been. His lies weren't for Juwon, they were entirely self-serving.

Yeonjun inches towards the couch and lays his hand on Juwon's back, the way he comforted Juwon the first two times he cried. Now, Juwon flinches away so hard Yeonjun thinks he may topple off the couch. He looks at Yeonjun with red, hateful eyes. Then, they soften into something both pitiful and pitying.

"You could have told me," he says. "Why did you think you couldn't tell me?"

Yeonjun swallows. "I guess I thought you would love me less."

Well, maybe now he does.

Juwon goes back to crying, and when Yeonjun tries to comfort him, he growls, "Don't fucking touch me."

Yeonjun feels as if it would be wrong to even look at him, but it would be wrong to leave him too. So he sits on the couch, stares at the black TV screen and waits.

"I'm sorry," Yeonjun says again.

Juwon stands up and heads towards the bedroom door.

Just before Juwon leaves, Yeonjun says, "Alpha. Wait. Will you... will you agree to the abortion?"

Fingers turning white as he grips the doorknob, Juwon mutters, "How little do you think of me?"

Yeonjun sleeps on the couch that night.

***

At the appointment for Yeonjun's abortion, Juwon signs the paper and stands up.

"Alright, I'm going to work," he says, and marches out without a backwards glance. Yeonjun understands. Juwon still has decency, but he's lost his love. The hurt settles in Yeonjun's spine, the knowledge that Juwon only gives him the kindness he gives strangers now. He's agreed to the abortion out of principle, his belief that pregnancy should not be forced on a person, not out of care for Yeonjun.

Yeonjun hates the shock and pity on the nurse's face. They're one of those couples that are cruel to each other in public.

"Do you have someone to take you home after the procedure?" she asks.

"I'll just take a taxi."

"You should have someone with you. You'll feel pretty sick afterwards."

So, when Yeonjun wakes up from the surgery, it's to Beomgyu holding his hand.

"Did it work?" Yeonjun asks him.

Beomgyu brushes Yeonjun's hair out of his eyes. "Yeah. It's over. Everything will be okay now."

When Yeonjun stands up, black spots mar his vision, and the world around him blurs as if a camera is moving too fast. Beomgyu steadies him and takes him home. When Beomgyu deposits him on the couch and walks away, Yeonjun thinks he might be leaving, too. Instead, he just closes the curtains and turns off the harsh overhead lights in favor of a couple of floor lamps. The warm, dim light soothes Yeonjun's burning eyes, quiets the ringing in his ears.

Beomgyu hands Yeonjun a steaming cup of tea. Yeonjun takes a careful sip — the water is too hot for herbal tea, the leaves burned and bitter, but Yeonjun smiles up at Beomgyu anyway.

"Thank you," he says, leaning forward against Beomgyu's stomach.

Beomgyu puts his hand in Yeonjun's hair, his touch as soft and comforting as a beloved blanket. "Do you need anything else?"

Yeonjun wraps his arms around Beomgyu's waist, letting the heat from his body melt into his own. Beomgyu, so sweet, so pretty.

"I think I'm going to throw up," Yeonjun says.

Beomgyu pulls away from him, and it's like stepping out of a hot shower in the middle of the winter. He returns with a pot from the kitchen and places it on Yeonjun's lap. Yeonjun waits for the vomit, but it never comes. His stomach keeps churns on and on without relief. After a few minutes of staring at the metal pot, he sets it on the ground and lies down.

Beomgyu settles down on the floor in front of Yeonjun and rubs clockwise circles into Yeonjun's stomach. The nausea abates only a little bit, but the gesture is so sweet that it brings tears to Yeonjun's eyes. After all of Yeonjun's lies, someone still thinks he's worth comforting.

"Thank you for taking care of me," Yeonjun says, his voice wet with restrained tears.

"It's nothing. You'd do the same for me."

Actually, Yeonjun's not sure that he would have. If Beomgyu had gotten knocked up and had called Yeonjun, would Yeonjun have helped him? Yeonjun has taken care of him when he was too drunk, has cleaned his vomit off of both of them, but this may have be too much. If he did help Beomgyu, it would be with a song of condemnation on loop inside his mind, a sick satisfaction that Beomgyu's bad decisions had finally caught up with him.

"I'm so sorry," Yeonjun whispers.

"For what? You didn't do anything." Beomgyu leans his head against the couch, the white fabric like clouds against his face, his eyes so big they seem to stare at him from another world.

"Sometimes I judge you. Inside my mind."

"It's not inside your mind. Your facial expressions are super obvious, hyung," Beomgyu says, laughing. "Honestly, I judge you too. Sometimes I'm like, what kind of idiot gets married at 22 and gives up on a career? What century is this?"

"Oh," Yeonjun says, too tired to defend himself. Not sure he has much of a defense now anyway.

"And after going to SNU! You seriously worked that hard studying for the suneung, just to be a housewife? What a waste of a brain." Beomgyu shakes his head and huffs.

"... Right. You don't really have to give me examples." Yeonjun should probably be offended, but he's begun to find entertainment in Beomgyu's tactlessness. What used to annoy him now shocks laughs out of him. Still, he doesn't think he should go into detail about his own judgments of Beomgyu.

"Anyway, that's the kind of stuff I think sometimes. But it's okay, because I still love you. And you still love me, right?"

Beomgyu's loud, crass humor. The pastries he gives Yeonjun, the table he saves him even when he doesn't know if he'll show up. The happiness that floats around him, like cherry blossoms falling from trees. His firm but gentle hands, guiding Yeonjun through anything as thrilling as it is scary. His honesty, his unrelenting sweetness.

Yes, Beomgyu is everything Yeonjun has been told to despise in an omega. And yes, Yeonjun loves him.

"Yeah. I really do," Yeonjun says. "I think you're my best friend."

Beomgyu takes a break from rubbing Yeonjun's stomach to squeeze his hand, and Yeonjun squeezes back.

"Get some rest, hyung," Beomgyu says, and it's easy to obey. To sleep into a dreamless sleep.

When Yeonjun finally wakes, it's to the the beeping of the apartment keypad. The sky has darkened, and the TV plays a variety show on mute. Beomgyu sits at the corner of the couch, his hand resting on Yeonjun's ankle where it lies on his lap.

As the door swings open, Yeonjun's nausea finally breaks: he lurches over the pot on the ground and vomits. Footsteps increase in volume, then stop.

Wiping vomit from his lips, Yeonjun looks up at Juwon. Juwon's eyes flicker from the pot of vomit to the strange omegas on his couch. He says nothing, he smells of alcohol, he's gone. The bathroom door clicks shut.

Beomgyu squeezes Yeonjun's ankles and his calves in an attempt at a massage.They listen to the water beat against the floor as Juwon showers. Badly and passionately, he usually sings. But tonight, he's silent.

"Hyung," Beomgyu says. "Soobin texted. He says you haven't been texting him back and wants to know if I know anything. What should I say?"

Has Soobin been texting? Yeonjun hasn't checked his phone since he took his pregnancy test. The easy happiness he shared with Soobin seems far-away rotten now, like a high from a dangerous drug. Wrecking his body, addicting him.

"Just... Tell him I'm sick."

Beomgyu nods, the blue glow from his phone illuminating his face as he types.

When Juwon exits the bathroom, he makes a beeline for the bedroom. But he freezes at the door and turns around.

"You should sleep in our room," he says, his voice cold.

Is he taking Yeonjun back into his bed? Is there hope for forgiveness?

"I'll sleep out here," Juwon says, and Yeonjun's stomach plummets.

"I should be the one to sleep on the couch." Yeonjun shakes his head.

Juwon rolls his eyes. "You're sick. You should sleep in a bed."

Juwon's not being generous by sleeping out on the couch. He's adding to the tally of things he's sacrificed for Yeonjun, of all the ways he's been wronged. He wants Yeonjun to see him in the morning with a sore back, and feel even guiltier. But why should Juwon sleep on the couch? Yeonjun is the one who lied. He needs to endure this punishment.

"But you have work tomorrow. And—"

"I'm your alpha," Juwon snaps, his voice like a roar. His face reddens, his eyes wet with angry tears. "You obey me, not the other way around. Sleep in the fucking bed."

Yeonjun nods, standing up from the couch and picking up the pot of vomit to clean it out.

Beomgyu takes it from him, his hands shaking. "Let me do it."

"Who even are you?" Juwon asks. "Apparently you're good enough friends with Yeonjun to take care of him after his abortion, but I've never even heard about you."

"I'm Beomgyu," he squeaks. Yeonjun wants to tell Beomgyu there's no need to be afraid, but it might be inflammatory to even mention that Juwon is someone that incites fear. Juwon is relishing his righteous anger, and Yeonjun doesn't know how he'll react to an accusing finger finding him.

In the end, Beomgyu doesn't want to leave Yeonjun alone with an angry alpha, but Yeonjun convinces him it's fine. And it is fine. Yeonjun crawls into his bed without issue, the door a barricade between them. Narae chooses Yeonjun like she always does, lies on his stomach and purrs as loud as a motorboat. He feels just as unworthy of it as he does of the proper bed, but it does make him feel a bit better.

In the pitch darkness of the bedroom, Yeonjun finally checks his phone, and the bright light burns his eyes. He blinks hard until his eyes adjust. He has a slew of notifications. Goodreads updates, messages from Soobin asking about his wellbeing, a video of an elephant's penis from Beomgyu. A message from his mom: a photo with her and a baby girl, her best friend's first grandchild. And four missed calls from his father.

A text: Call me immediately.

Juwon told his parents about the abortion and they told his parents. That must be it. What else could his father be upset about?

So Yeonjun, ever the rule-follower, calls his father.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"Yeonjun," his father says, his voice low. "Didn't I tell you to stop looking for Jimin?"