weapons † hs [two]

13. baby talk

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ok i love this little scene manip. i'm gonna make this a movie someday. would you watch it?

"Tell me again why you didn't go with her to the hospital?"

"Because I panic easily when it comes to her, alright? I'd be a bad asset in the ambulance," I reply crudely, partially lying, staring out the car window as Caleb drives us to the hospital.

"Besides," I shake my head in self-disappointment, "Ryan knows how her pregnancy has been, just like he knows everything else."

Fuming, I slam my fist on the door of the car and Caleb calls, "Hey! The car didn't do a thing wrong, Ryan didn't do anything wrong, calm the fuck down. Harry, I might not know why you had to separate from each other and move here while she stayed back, but it's really not your fault that you just found out she's pregnant and didn't know how to handle it."

"Yeah, it just makes me an awful father," I stretch my legs out in the front and sulk down in the leather chair, crossing my arms like a child throwing a fit.

I'm pissed, disappointed in myself that on my first day as a father, when I tried to prove I could be one, I've actually failed in more ways than one. It was thrown in my face that I wasn't the one there for the past appointments to hold her hand as she was poked and prodded in ways that I'm unaware of. I wasn't the one there to hold back her hair from the morning sickness I read about that occurs during those first three months.

I wasn't even the one there the day she took the test and found out that we'd be making a family together.

Now that I've missed crucial moments, I don't know what she can and can't do or eat, or what at all she must be going through. I don't understand anything. No website or article I read prepared me like I foolishly hoped it would when I freaked out, felt unprepared, and read them as she slept.

My first day technically in being a father isn't even over, those articles didn't do shit for me, and I have screwed it all up.

"Look, just breathe, okay?" A distant Caleb tries consulting me, unable to meet my eyes either, though he holds just as steady a grim glare as I.

"Breathe? Are you serious? I don't have any fucking air without her."

"Ryan said she was okay and that it wasn't serious on the phone. I think you're being hard on yourself."

I let out an overwhelmed groan, muttering to myself, "It's just that she wouldn't be there if it wasn't for me."

It's been over an hour without her. Ryan called like he promised, informing us that we should head over and that the doctors diagnosed that she was simply weak from throwing up and didn't have enough in her system that she was dehydrated and lacked energy from nutrients, so she fainted. Her head injury is a small concussion and scrape, nothing serious. The baby is fine from the fall, as is she.