Pregnancy Series || 5sos

Confessions || a.i.

author's note; guys hey so i hope you like this :-) leave me a comment or something to tell me yes or no! x

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It isn’t unusual for Ashton to get a little tipsy at times. And it isn’t unusual for you to have a drink or two with him, especially if you two are home alone. So, now isn’t that big of a deal except for the fact that you’ve decided to have a confessions hour. As of right now, he’s told you his biggest fear (not being good enough and letting someone, mainly you, down) and his favorite color (blue) and his least favorite thing about himself (his hairy arms). You’ve spilled that you’re afraid of spiders and cockroaches, you hated college but went because your parents insisted, and you’re afraid to have children because you don’t think you’d be a good mother.

“I,” he hiccups, “don’t think you’d be a bad mum, why do you think that?” You laugh, feeling your head fog up, and shrug, crossing your legs and setting your drink down beside you. “Because I screw everything up,” you admit, your voice heavy, “and I don’t want to do that to a kid.”

Ashton looks at you as if you’ve grown an extra head sprouted somewhere from your neck. “Wh-what are you talking about?” he asks, his voice sounding completely lost. You shrug, running your thumb over the rim of your glass. “It’s true, I screw everything up,” you say, looking down at your feet. Ashton leans over and kisses your forehead for a lingering moment, the scent of both his spicy cologne and the yeasty alcohol mixing and creating a haze around you.

“No you don’t, baby,” he whispers as he pulls away, looking you dead in the eyes. You shrug, “Can we not talk about this?” Ashton coughs into his hand and takes a drag of the beer sitting by his hip. “Fine, it’s my turn to fess up anyways,” he giggles, his mood taking a dramatic shift. He taps his chin and looks up at the ceiling, making you laugh and forget all the negative feelings from just moments ago.

“I’ve wanted to have a baby since the second we were married,” he whispers, his eyes glittering like little gems when he looks at you. You raise an eyebrow, “What, so you wanted to get it on after the priest said, ‘I now pronounce you husband and wife’?” Ashton laughs, and you swear it shakes the whole room and fills it with a beam of sunshine at the same time. “No, not exactly,” he rolls his eyes, pushing a hand through his wild, knotted hair. “But ever since I saw you babysit your cousin that one day, I’ve wanted to, or at least wondered what it would be like if, have a baby.”

You take a sip of your drink because you’re not sure if you’re hearing him clearly or if you just need a little buzz to get you through this conversation. “Ashton,” you chuckle, placing the glass back down on the carpet floor. “A baby is a lot of work. And commitment. And they don’t stay babies forever.” He nods his head, his curls flying all around, “I-I know, but that doesn’t change my mind. I’ve had three years to think about this, sweetie, and I know it’s what I want.” He reaches over and tips up your chin with a curled index, “I just know it isn’t what you want.”

That hurts, honestly. It sends a little prick of pain to your heart, and you wince visibly at it. Ashton seems to notice, because his eyes flood with concern. You don’t want to upset him because you’re just afraid, but that’s what’s holding you back. That’s what has always held you back.

Fear.

 

“Ashton, I’m sorry,” you say, tearing your eyes away from him as you shake your head. You reach up and push his arm away and scoot back some distance from him. “I don’t want to make you upset,” he tells you, pushing both your drinks aside. It seems he’s sober now, but the red-rimming of his eyes, stench of his breath, and rosiness of his cheeks tells you otherwise. “I know you don’t want a baby,” Ashton says, mostly to himself, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t just give it a little time and see.” He looks up at you with hopeful green-gray eyes, chewing on that full lower lip as if it’s candy.