Band Member: Luke
Type: Relationship
Request: No.
Details: You’d been trying so long, forever struck with disappointment. But eventually, it would all be worth it. Right?
You glanced down at the little white stick with a sigh, willing the second blue line to appear even though you knew it would not.
You’d lost count of how many tests you’d taken, how many times you’d looked down at the little window with all of your hopes pinned on seeing that tiny colour change. But once again, your body had seemed to fail you.
You threw it in the bin, unlocking the bathroom door to find Luke sat with his back pressed against it. He looked up at you expectantly, and you hated how the little shake of your head was enough to crush the hope in his eyes. He tried to hide it, shrugging it off as he stood and took you in his arms. But as he buried his face in your neck, you knew he would be trying not to cry.
“Don’t worry, princess.” He mumbled, his lips soft on your skin. “We’ll get there one day, and it will be worth it.”
One day.
One day when?
It had already been too many days, long enough for your doctor to tut to himself when you told him the date you’d first started trying, long enough for him to prattle on about blood tests and scans and maybe we should look at treatment if this carries on. Long enough that Luke began to doubt himself when all your tests came back normal, wondering if it was down to him, if there was something wrong with him.
He’d half hoped that was the case when the letter thudded to the doormat. He needed something to blame for this, some reason why the world refused to give him what he wanted. But as his eyes scanned the letter, settling on the words satisfactory and normal and just keep trying, he’d started to consider that maybe this was all one big cosmic joke. Maybe he’d used up all his luck when the band became famous, maybe that was it for him.
But then what about you?
You’d been so hopeful when he’d handed you the letter, tears in your eyes because this was good, this meant it was probably just one of those things and you could just keep going. But you could see the pressure and stress was starting to get to him. He was spending hours hunched up over his laptop, reading articles that were only semi-reliable, concocting herbal remedies and suggesting dietary changes that maybe, just maybe might make a difference. You went along with it, willing to try anything that might help, but more doing it for him. If taking chasteberry and green tea extract every day was going to help him relax a little more, then you would do it.
He changed in other ways over those next few weeks, too. He held onto you a little tighter in bed, lips pressed to the skin of your neck as his arms curled around your sides, fingers resting gently over your navel as though willing a little round bump to form. He could feel the tension in your body that you just couldn’t seem to shake, pulling you closer and massaging the knots in your muscles, whispering that it was okay, it would all be worth it one day.
He kept himself busy in the empty days by cleaning the house from top to bottom, tackling all the difficult chores like defrosting the freezer and sorting through the towers of junk boxes that lined the garage. You’d never seen him so domesticated; he’d always needed bribing into chores, but suddenly he was spending hours making sure everything was just so.
If you hadn’t known any better, you would almost say he was nesting.
He was experimenting more in the kitchen too, insisting you rested and let him handle everything, as though the reason you hadn’t seen those two blue lines was because you spent too much time in front of the stove. But again, you let him do it. Anything that would soften what seemed to be a permanent crease in his brow, or stop him from tugging so hard on his lip ring that you swore it might rip out.
It was worse whenever Calum or Michael came to visit, their beautiful daughters in tow. You knew Luke loved spending time with his honorary nieces, chasing them around the garden and letting them use his long limbs like a climbing frame. But as soon as they left, you could see how empty he felt in his heart. He wanted that, and although he would never admit it, and he knew it was a horrid thought; he almost resented his two friends for having their daughters already.
You’d overheard him once, talking glumly to Calum when they thought you were busy in the kitchen baking chocolate chip cookies with his daughter, Raine. You knew Calum and his wife had had a little trouble at first, expecting Raine to appear far earlier than she had, but they hadn’t had to wait half as long as you and Luke before the test finally came back positive.
“Give it time,” Calum had said softly, “I know it sucks, but freaking out about it only makes it worse.”
Luke had sighed, knowing Calum was right but the sentiment not soothing him in any way. How could he stop stressing about it when it was all he ever thought about any more? How could he relax when every article and book and leaflet was telling him to do a million different things at once? He was trying to make you rest, but make sure you exercised properly too. He helped you track your ovulation, but didn’t mark it obsessively on the calendar because that could cause ‘too much stress’, pinning all your hopes on just a short window of success. He was doing everything he could to make this happen, and it was exhausting. But…
“I know,” he’d nodded, “it will all be worth it, eventually. It has to be.”
The constant pressure was starting to make you feel sick. You’d heard of couples who had been pushed apart from the stress and disappointment, but you and Luke were working overtime to try and keep yourselves as close as possible. You somehow loved each other more, and were so desperate to make each other happy by finally being able to say yes, baby hemmo is on their way, that you were clinging to each other like letting go would signal the end of it all, destroying any chance you had.
But the feeling in your gut was growing stronger, turning your stomach and making even your favourite foods taste like acid on your tongue. Luke watched you from across the table every time you pushed your still-full plate away, making jokes about his bad cooking but unable to hide the concern in his eyes. He knew it was only a matter of time before the stress made one of you ill, and he’d be damned if it was going to be you.
You started to ache all over, spending more time huddled up on the sofa and just wishing you could feel whole again. You felt fatigued no matter how much you slept, finding it hard to build up enough effort to even leave the house most days. Luke was busy with promotion for the new album, but your phone buzzed at least once every hour with a dorky selfie or a questioning text; just checking in babe, hope ur feeling a bit better?, ashton says hi.
He was fretting about you, but it was okay. You needed him more than ever now, the only comfort from the queasiness and exhaustion being his arms around you at the end of a long day, promising that things would be okay.
It wasn’t until the day you started vomiting that you put two and two together and finally came up with four instead of six. You were staring face down into the toilet bowl, but you felt the surge of energy and clarity course through your veins, your own little epiphany.
Nausea. Aches. Fatigue. Poor appetite.
You’d seen these words printed in leaflets, bullet pointed under the headline ‘symptoms’, splashed across the websites and written in early chapters of the pregnancy books stacked beside your bed.
You reached for the box in the bathroom cupboard, not daring to hope, but unable to deny the butterflies that had set flight in your stomach.
One day, it would be worth it. That’s what Luke had told you a thousand times, promised in hushed tones as you cuddled in bed, said with a soft smile after each doctor’s appointment.
And as you started down at the little white stick, the two blue lines reflecting in your eyes, you couldn’t help but let out a sob.
Somehow, one day had become today.
You were waiting patiently in the kitchen for him, your heart beginning to race when you heard his key slide into the lock, the front door opening and closing with a familiar click. He called out to you, and you could hear the surprise in his tone when your reply came from the kitchen instead of the lounge.
He paused in the doorway, staring at the little yellow gift bag on the counter in confusion. You nodded, motioning at him to open it.
He dropped his bag to the floor, a small smile tugging at his lips as his fingers fiddled with the ribbon that was knitted at the handles. He’d always loved surprise presents, and you were sure this would be one he would never forget.
He grabbed the handfuls of tissue paper, crumpling them loudly in his hands as he tossed them aside. He reached for the roll of soft, white fabric, pinching it between his fingers and shaking it until it had completely unravelled.
“Is this a baby grow?” He frowned. “What does it say? Baby Hemmo 2016?”
His pinched fingers released, the baby grow falling down onto the kitchen counter as his eyes widened. He glanced across at you, looking more hopeful that you had ever seen him before.
“Are you really?”
It was barely more than a whisper, his hands still hovering in the air as though the baby grow was still in his grasp.
You could feel the tears stinging at your eyes when you nodded.
“Really?” He asked again. “You’re not joking? Tell me you are not joking.”
“I’m not joking, Luke.”
He skirted the edge of the counter, hands reaching for you and wrapping you in to a tight hug, your head pressed against his chest as he laid soft kisses on your hair. You glanced up when you heard a sniffle, surprised to see tears streaking from red eyes and down his cheeks even as he grinned.
“I don’t believe it.” He whispered. “I’m really going to be a daddy?”
You couldn’t speak for the lump in your throat, the tears flowing freely from your own eyes too. Now that Luke knew, it suddenly felt real. This was the moment you’d been waiting on for so long, the moment you could finally look him in the eyes and tell him yes, he was going to be a daddy.
He leant back, wiping your tears away with his calloused thumbs, the smile still spread widely across his face as he held your cheeks in his hands.
“I know we still have a long way to go,” he said softly, “but everything we’ve been through to get here, every up and down; it was all worth it to finally say you’re having my baby, you know?”
He dipped his head down, his lips grazing softly against yours as his fingers trailed down to your waist, finally settling on the soft skin just above the waistband of your jeans. They’d find their home there over the upcoming months, gently stroking the little bump that would flourish so quickly, tapping back a response when his baby boy started to wriggle and kick.
But for now, it was just enough to know that beneath his fingers stirred a new beginning for the two of you, and although the path had been long and arduous, you knew it had all been worth it.
annaxmalina
germansingergirl
kianamaiart
izzy806
