Quandary | Noah Sebastian |

twenty

"An avocado?" Olivia's excited voice quavers in the passenger seat, and she sniffles. "Noah, our baby is the size of an avocado!" she exclaims, and I knew she was undeniably looking at the gestational app her doctor suggested to download. I glanced over at her; she held her phone up and pointed at the screen, and sure enough, there was an avocado staring back at me.

Before turning my attention back to the road, I noticed her lips were trembling, and she was trying to smile through the cry she wanted to let out. When said cry slipped out, I chuckled and placed my hand on her thigh, giving her a firm squeeze. "Baby's only gonna get bigger from here, Liv." She lets out a breathy laugh and puts her hand over mine, squeezing it in return.

With Liv being Liv, she was overly emotional, crying tears of joy over the latest update. I loved it though; I loved knowing that she was happy.

Olivia took a deep breath when we pulled into Nicholas' driveway. We were meeting him here for lunch, and just like before, she was a bit apprehensive. She adjusted her hoodie several times upon getting out of the car, tugging on the midsection to make sure that her already barely noticeable bump was covered. I chuckled, rubbing her back and urging her to head inside.

I watched every ounce of apprehension melt away from Liv when Nick let us in, that heartwarming smile spreading across her face when he hugged her. I grinned at the sight, admiring the way her nose crinkled as she giggled quietly, paired with the glimmer in her eyes.

"What do y'all wanna eat?" Nick asks as we settle into the living room, Liv crossing her legs and leaning against me.
I wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. "I'm cool with anything," I shrugged, looking down at Olivia. "Any suggestions?"
She doesn't waste a second with her answer, her brows perking up. "Can we get Mexican?"
"Sure, love," I chuckled, rubbing her upper arm. "Is that cool with you, Nick?"
"Hell yeah. Haven't had Mexican in a hot minute," he agrees, pulling his phone out to search up the menu for what I presumed was Guelaguetza, our usual spot.

We ordered our food; Liv insisted on picking it up, and as reluctant as I was, I handed her my keys. It wasn't anything to fuss over anyway, and she said she wanted to get some fresh air. Nick and I carried on with shooting the shit, him with a beer now in hand. He had offered me one, but I decided against it and stuck with water.

"How's the breathing been?" Nick inquires. "Seems like it's improved quite a bit."
I grinned, nodding. "Yeah, dude. There's still some residual shit I need to get out, but it finally feels like there isn't mud in my lungs."
"Thank God," he sighs with relief. "You have no idea how scary it was watching this happen to you a second time, like this was way worse than before."

I cringed, averting my attention to the water bottle in my hands and crinkling it slightly as the memories made their way back in—the panic attacks, the crushing weight on my chest, the tears, the heartache, the remorse.

Nick was right; this time was much worse than before, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't think I was actually going to succumb to the disease this time around. I was terrified, but it really put things into perspective for me, nearly losing Olivia with my negligence. That was the scariest part.

"I think it's about time we reschedule those shows we had to cancel, what do you think?"
I stopped fiddling with the bottle in my hand and mulled over his question. I wasn't sure how much my lung capacity would be affected by the severity of the sickness; I hadn't tried singing since I recorded that snippet for Liv's birthday gift. Hell, even my voice could be shot from all the coughing...but we needed to make it up to our fans.

"Yeah," I finally agreed, bringing my attention back to him. "You're right. So long as I'm y'know...healthy," I chuckled.
"Oh yeah, of course, dude. That's the most important part."
"And not in or around September, since Liv's due then." I smiled bashfully to myself, my heart warming at the thought of being able to hold him or her in roughly 6 months.
"Noah, what the fuck!" Liv hollers behind me, followed by a thump as she undeniably dropped the food on the floor and threw her arms out in rage.