buzzer beater ✦ j.sc | ✔

the little things ✦ [iii]

BETWEEN TWO PALMS

"I love you so much," Sungchan sighed, nuzzling his nose into your neck.

"Gross, you're all sweaty," you half-heartedly pushed at his bare chest pressed against your back, scooting forward to try to get away from the uncomfortable feeling of your hot skin sticking together. "Let me go."

He just wrapped his arms around you tighter and pulled you back to him, a playful growl in his throat. "Say it back and I'll consider it."

"You're such a loser," you sighed, turning your neck to be able to peck the tip of his nose. "I love you, Channie."

"I love you more, baby." He connected your lips, earnestly slipping his tongue into your parted mouth. "Love you so much... can't wait to marry you..." He breathed out between pants, cupping your cheek with one hand as his other traveled down the front of your body again. "And have the most beautiful babies with you... love of my life..."

You squeezed your eyes shut as his words stabbed you right in the chest, turning your head and rolling away from his grasp. "Sungchan, we've talked about this."

There was pain and confusion on his features as he watched you sit up at the edge of the bed. He scrambled to follow you up, sitting next to you.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking." He wrapped an arm tightly around your shoulders, pecking your temple. "I know what you said—the migraines are genetic, you don't want to risk passing them on. I didn't mean it, I'm sorry."

"But that's what you want, isn't it?" You sniffled, feeling tears rise in your eyes and a lump start forming in your throat. "Kids..."

"Baby, I want kids with you, because I love you." Sungchan grabbed both your hands, squeezing them tightly. "And I mean—would it really be the worst thing for them to possibly get migraines? If they were even half as amazing as you in every other way?"

Your hands went limp in his as you stared him down. "Sungchan. Think about how you feel every time I have a migraine, and you can't do anything to help. How useless you are. Now picture how you'd feel if our kid had one. Our baby. Twelve, ten, eight years old. Sobbing in your arms because it hurts so bad, begging you, their dad, to make it stop, just make it stop, but you can't. And I can't. Maybe they get the nausea part of it too, and they're throwing up, and they get dehydrated and we have to take them to the ER because they can't hold anything down and their muscles are cramping up and everything hurts so bad. What if they have to get brain MRIs, Sungchan? Imagine them being all alone in that machine, nobody to hold their hand. Not to mention— I can't take any of my medications from the day we decide to start trying, while I'm pregnant, and while I'm breastfeeding. So in addition to everything I'd have to go through being pregnant, I could have migraines four or five times a week for... over a year? Two years? But hey, maybe they'll get my smile and your eyes, at least, right?"

Sungchan's eyes were brimming with tears, and he swallowed thickly. "I get it, I get it..."

You shook off his hands, standing up and wrapping your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling too cold sitting naked in your bedroom. "I have to go shower... I'm sweaty and have... cum dripping out of me."

The shower that was usually cramped when the two of you were packed in there together felt oddly big now as you washed up by yourself, harshly scrubbing at your skin. You stared blankly at the water droplets running down the tiles long after you'd finished washing up, standing there as the water turned lukewarm, until it was freezing cold and you were forced out shivering. Turning the spray off, you grabbed a fluffy towel to dry off with, stepping out into the still-steamy bathroom.