Gabriel: Prequel

twelve

[ harper's pov]

I run to the toilet in bleariness, letting the contents of last night hurl itself into the bowl whilst, all the while, being grateful that my hair isn't long enough to be covered in puke. My head pounds after I finish heaving, and I take a minute to steady myself against the cool panels of the wall, praying for the nausea to subside. After being sure that it's all gone, I clamber back onto the sofa, nestling back into Gabe's touch. 

The memories of my last meeting rendered me sick: the red, flashing lights and the dirty words echo and drum in my mind, tearing me apart. I hadn't been able to tell Gabe or anyone about who I was, or who I am: their reactions of disgust would leave me vulnerable and alone - which is strongly against what I want. At the touch of his arm tightening around my waist, my mind instantly calms, lulling to sleep.

_____________

I awake with the familiar prick of nausea but try to recline back into his touch to spare me. But, his body isn't there, instead, it's replaced with the duvet in the shape of his body. Well, almost - the duvet hasn't quite captured all of his sculpted parts. 

"Since hanging out with them, Gabe keeps going out. Cute, right?" Amancia smiles, her face coming into my sight as she takes a seat next to me, a cup of steam in her hand which is extended to me.

I graciously accept, gulping it without pausing, silently relieved that it battles the nausea, "Thank you, Amancia."

"It's good, right? I guess mint really does work wonders with nausea."

I stop drinking so that I can look at her: with a smile planted on her lips, her ocre eyes hint with mischief as she sees my mouth agape. "Nausea?"

"Nausea," she nods, leaning back into the sofa.

"I don't know what you're talking about, but thanks."

"You're very loud in the bathroom, Harper. Loud enough that Nicholas, for sure, grumbles about it so often," she laughs lightly, patting my arm.

"Call it sickness, or whatever," I wave my hand about dismissively.

"Are you sure? You might be...you know."

"No," I frown, sitting up straighter, "I don't know what you mean."

She beams excitedly, looking straight in my eye, "Pregnant!"

"Oh, God, I hope not. I would rather die than even do that."

"What? But, babies are so cute; who wouldn't want them?"

"You have one, then."

Amancia rolls her eyes playfully, swatting my hand, "I'm just saying that, you know, would it be the worst thing in the world?"

I ponder over the thought for a second: children were never a part of my plan - far from it, in fact. To raise one, knowing that they might hate me, or that they would be ashamed of where I come from, would mean such a shitty life. "It wouldn't be the worst, no. But, it'd be pretty fucking close to it."

By this time, she's in a comfortable sitting position, her eyes wide as she drinks in every word. It's weird: having someone listen so intently, having someone who actually cares what you say with no half measure. She really is an angel.

"I think you could change your mind. Especially, if this sickness turns into that."

"How would that even happen?" I ask, raising my eyebrows at her.

She returns my skepticism with a grin, bringing me up off the sofa with her. "Come with me."

__________________________

"Changed your mind yet?"

Amancia brought us to a market in the small village that sells the usual: clothes, and you know, baby clothes, also. Racks of miniature clothing in soft, pastel colours hang around the market with different patterns, each one slightly more adorable than the last. Of course, I wouldn't tell her that. I scrunch my nose at them all, standing awkwardly in the corner with my arms crossed over my chest.

"Look at this one, oh my gosh!" Amancia squeals, holding a onesie with a beige, fluffy teddybear printed across the mint colour with the words 'Teddy Is My Greatest Friend'.

"How are babies even supposed to like that when they can't even read?"

She glares at me, deadpan. "It's for you to coo at, not them. Be serious about this, Harper."

I sigh, reluctantly nodding, walking away to fake coo at some other clothing. As I stand near a rack of yellow clothes, the hairs on my back stand straight, and chills travel down my spine. I spin around in swift speed, glancing around: my eyes land on Amancia; reassured that she's safe, I peer into the distance past crowds of people, but come up short. I could swear that I feel a pair of eyes boring into me, watching me, but there's no one there. I shake my head in disbelief, rubbing my arm cautiously. To distract myself, I flick through the racks of clothes but halt when a pair of shoes and socks glow at me. Shit, I've been pulled into a trap of cooing at baby clothes.

Peals of soft laughter cascade around me as Amancia comes up behind me, hugging me from the back. "I knew it! You aren't that against babies at all, huh?"

I squirm against her embrace, keeping her at arm's length, "No. I just like the colour."

She nods mockingly, keeping a straight face. "Sure."

I cross my arms defiantly, "Shut it, I swear."

"Wait until Gabe hears about this," she sings gleefully, linking arms with me to drag me back home, as if she's gathered sufficient evidence. Her words pull at a thought, however: how will Gabe even respond to the thought of me being pregnant? If I'm so against it, surely he would be, too. I already pulled him away from his friends, family and life; to stick him with me because he would be the father of my kid stings. We promised to each other that if we couldn't stay with the other, that if we fought, then we would leave each other. Simple as; but, how much more complicated will it be with a baby involved? For his sake, I hope I never find out.