Damn the Delivery Boy

month one

Two lines.

The second is a little faint, but it is there, undeniably there, growing stronger by the second as your heart sinks deeper into the pit of your stomach and suddenly you are keeling over the sink, throwing up a combination of panic and regret. You wipe your mouth, sit back on the closed lid of the toilet, shutting your eyes and taking a deep breath, holding it until your lungs burn and your lashes fly back apart to look at the test still shaking between your fingertips.

There, right before your eyes, two fucking blue lines protruding like two middle fingers, poking up at you and saying – Congratulations sucker, you are pregnant!

Twenty-three years old and pregnant.

You throw up again.

This has got to be the biggest mistake of your life.

Glancing at your watch, it states 7:48PM, and so you decide to order a pizza.

To be completely honest, it is the only way that you know how to contact him.

It feels like the matter has not kicked in yet. That any second now, the walls will crumble and you will be a sobbing mess because you are just a part-time art student with a semi-successful published novel, of which barely pays for the tiny flat you currently live in. So how on earth are you going to afford to support a child, nonetheless with a guy who does not even have the boyfriend label stamped on him?

You damn yourself for being lured in by a crush of the past, especially the one who goes by Jeon Jeongguk and scrapes in dollars by delivering pizzas. It was just a fooling around situation at first, a joke that had him coming inside to sit on your sofa, a memory that had you on his lap with his teeth seeking solace in the flesh of your neck, a longtime crush that he kept well hidden from you as well that had him returning, over and over to spend his break time tangled in your bed sheets and pressed to your skin. For four months straight.

Now, it may be even longer than that.

Fuck you, morning after pill, and your five percent chance rate of getting knocked up.

Within fifteen minutes, the doorbell chimes, and your throat goes dry.

When you answer the door, Jeongguk is leaning against the frame, spinning the pizza box with one hand and smirking at you from beneath his cap, looking like the devil reincarnated. You never understood how somebody could look so mouthwatering in a red and blue pizza place uniform, but he was always set to exceed your expectations. Maybe it was because ever since you were teenagers, you always had a special place in your heart for him, or maybe it was simply because he was drop dead phenomenal in appearance and personality.

"Did somebody order a vegetarian pizza, or were they ordering me instead?"

Very vividly, those words remind you how you got yourself into this awful situation in the first place.

"Jeongguk," You breathe his name at the pure sight of him, and then you groan it, grinding the syllables between your teeth. "Jeongguk, you bastard! Get your ass inside of this apartment, right now."

"Baby, you're so feisty tonight," He purrs, stepping over the threshold and placing the steaming box upon the cluttered foyer table before turning to you. He takes off his cap, brushing his fringe back and grinning, pinching your cheek. "Come on, where shall it be this time? The kitchen sounds–"

"Jeongguk," You say his name again, and maybe it is the waver in your tone, or the way that you do not necessarily look at him, but his playful expression suddenly hardens and he inches a little closer. His thumb and forefinger gently grab at your chin, tilting it up so that your eyes meet.