Pregnant. Lucien is the first one to hear me say the word, though there were so many people I wanted to confide in. My mother, Kenna, maybe even Beth or Eschieve. I wanted to call them, ask them for help, an embrace or some advice. Needed them to calm my racing mind, to hug me while I cried, my brain in full panic mode whilst I figured out what I was even feeling.
I stopped myself from calling them, though, knowing that there was only one person to hear it first after I found it - Lucien. He needed to know, which meant that I've isolated myself from any human contact, knowing full well I couldn't keep it a secret, because my brain has just been spewing thoughts at me ever since I took the tests.
"So," Lucien says, the first words he's spoken ever since I handed him his glass. "Pregnant."
"Pregnant," I repeat him, chewing on the side of my cheek nervously. Ever since I found out, I haven't been able to think straight. Part of me was sure the only option was to get rid of it - from all we've spoken about kids, I realised there was no way we were going to have a baby right now. The other part realised that Lucien loves me, and he wants to have a child with me. Maybe not right now, but he loves me enough to change that, to love the child that's growing in me right now.
A child. The simple thought brings shivers to my spine, and I haven't been able to sleep ever since I found out. Seven to eight weeks, equalling about two months. Around Christmas must be when this baby was conceived. A darn Christmas miracle, in the least holy sense of the word.
"Are you okay?" is his first question.
"I'm not sure," I admit in full honesty, grabbing his hands tightly in mine. "I don't think so, but I'm not sure what I'm feeling."
"How long have you known?" he asks, his grip tightening.
"Yesterday, I think," I mumble, "I'm not sure, it's all been a blur. I..." with one of the hands that was holding onto his, I wipe away a tear that has come rolling down my cheek. "It explains it all. The sickness, the sadness, the everything."
"I want to talk about this," he tells me, pressing a kiss onto my trembling hands. "I really do. We have to talk about this. But... I'm feeling a little delusional from the jetlag and the exhaustion, and I'm not even sure if this conversation is real right now. So either I'm going to chug some coffee right now, or we should continue this in the morning."
      He sleeps, to my full surprise. The jetlag must have really made him feel loopy, because my worries get the best of me, and I don't sleep for even a second.
It's all getting clearer to me, though. When I look at him, dead asleep, there's only one kind of thought crowding my mind.
When I just found out I was pregnant, my brain was fighting a war between two parties. One of them wanted to abort, to get rid of this baby and pretend nothing happened, because we weren't ready. To be a mother, to give up all of this freedom. The other party wanted to embrace this opportunity with both hands, felt a warm, motherly emotion it hasn't felt often before.
Now, looking at Lucien, I can not imagine giving this up. I would if he wanted me to, in a heartbeat, because there is nothing I love more than Lucien. But a baby that's part me and part him, this beautiful man in front of me, could never be a burden to me, or a mistake.

"Good morning," I hadn't heard his footsteps come into the livingroom, but all of a sudden he's here.
After being unable to sleep for hours, I got out of bed and found my comfort on our couch with Frank cuddled up to me. The five pregnancy tests in front of me kept me company, no longer truly bringing me the same panic, now only reminding me of the conversation yet to come.
"Good morning," I repeat to him, meeting his eye as he rubs the sleep out of his.
The start of this conversation hangs in between us, seeming as if Lucien is still figuring out whether it's even real or if he's dreamt it. He's in just his underwear, his hair a little wild from the deep sleep he has just been in.
"So," he repeats the first thing he told me last night. "Pregnant?"
I smile. I can't help it, though it feels a little out of place right now. "Pregnant."
He sits down next to me, with Frank immediately climbing onto his lap and clawing his nails into the bare skin of his thighs.
"So this is them, then," he breathes, his eye catching the five tests still displayed on the coffee table, like some sort of exhibition. They must do the same for Lucien, making whatever has been said even more real. He picks up one, then puts it down again, repeating the move until all five have been placed in pretty much the same spot. "Seven to eight weeks."
"Two months," I confirm. "Late December, early January."
There's dead silence. We've been quiet around one another more often than just now, but right now feels almost deafening. I'm pretty sure I could hear his heartbeat if I listened hard enough.
"I don't know what this means," I tell him, staring at the five tests in front of us. "And I'm genuinely freaking out. But..." Without even looking, I grab his hand. "I want you to be there for it. I..."
Our eyes meet and my lower lip trembles immediately.
"I need you to be there for it. I don't know what I want, I don't know what's the right thing to do. This...," my free hand, without it actually being a fully concious decision, finds the lower part of my stomach, where my uterus rests. "our... pregnancy, our choice. I can't do whatever it is we decide to do without you."

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