Genre: drama / angst / parenthood / single-mother!Reader
Warning: unplanned pregnancy, mentions of abortion and descriptions of abortion clinics, single parenting
Word Count: 8.4k
Author's Note: I wrote this a long time ago, in an old blog called leftandwrite. The writing style is entirely passive, and the story develops quite quickly - it's not my best work. The topic is also a hard one, and I totally understand if you're uncomfortable reading it. I re-uploaded it because I've had a couple of asks (over time) requesting this particular one.
Sometimes making the choice isn't the hard part. Living with that choice is what haunts every decision after.
Having peed on four different sticks, it’s a bad sign that they've all come out positive. Every single one. The thought alone is enough to make you vomit, had you not already done so this morning. Feeling light-headed, the four sticks in the sink stare at you expectantly, echoing a word in your brain that sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve been so careful with Mark, but the boxes do warn that there’s always a chance it can still happen.
Grabbing the pregnancy tests, you wrap them up in a wad of tissue and throw it in the bin. Logically, you can’t just trust the stick tests. To be absolutely sure, you’d have to go to a Doctor. And only then will you tell Mark about this. You couldn’t risk scaring him after all, especially with how busy he’s been in the last year. The mere thought of him is enough to make your head spin. This whole situation is just getting worse and worse. But before the panic can escalate, you book yourself an appointment with the Doctor.
You try not to let yourself stress over it. You move about as normal, got to work, do our chores, hang out with friends like you usually do. And you especially don’t act any different around Mark. But you’re not stupid, of course you’ve started taking precautionary measures, just in case. Which has meant declining alcoholic beverages and minimising caffeine intake. Being careful is the most important thing to do right now, regardless of the outcome.
On the morning of the appointment, Mark wakes you up before he has to leave for practice. He kisses you good morning, calls you beautiful and promises to call later that day. You want to stay in the safety of that moment, where you don’t have to worry about anything, and the possibility of being pregnant isn’t looming over you like a grey cloud. But alas, Mark packs up his bag and leaves the apartment with a soft thud, taking with him the blissful ignorance that you desperately crave.
Arriving at the clinic, you can’t stop picking at your nails; a nervous habit you’ve had since childhood. When they called your name, you stand immediately, because all you want is to get the test done and get out of here. The Doctor is kind enough to be sympathetic at the sight of you being young and alone, and she merely nods when you explains that you want to get a blood test to check if you’re pregnant. She’s very warm during the entire procedure, and all you can do is sit and try not to let the panic show. The Doctor lets you know that they’ll be in contact as soon as possible with the test result, and before you leave her office, she silently hands you a handful of pamphlets. You only glance at the photo of a baby and the word ‘pregnancy’ on the pieces of paper before stuffing them into your handbag.
Leaving wordlessly, you don’t head straight home. Instead, you visit the park in an effort to clear your head. You’re not usually a fan of the public park, but you can’t say you’ve had the greatest day and you doubt the park could make it any worse. Sitting on the grass, you simmer in countless thoughts as you stare at the cloudless sky. It’s a strangely warm day for autumn, but you find it difficult to appreciate the climate, mind preoccupied by bigger things.
Thinking about the possibility of being pregnant scares you. You’re not even 25, which is the age that you imagined you start even thinking about having a child. Being 20, working as a makeup artist’s assistant without a University degree, isn’t exactly the time or place you’d want to introduce a child to. You’re not remotely ready, you can barely afford your apartment, let alone support a child. And you don’t exactly have a lot of reasons that justify bringing a child into this world; into your world.
But the crisp sound of a child’s laugh catches your attention. You look around and find a little girl running with her tiny legs, wobbling her weight around in a bright dress and a pair of small brown shoes. She looks so precious, her smile wearing no care in the world as she runs around. Not too far, her parents watch her with a fondness in their eyes that only parents can wear. A sort of pride and affection that an unconditional love can afford. And you imagine that same look on yours and Mark’s face, and somehow it brings you peace. You couldn’t do this alone, but maybe you can do it with Mark. He’s warm, caring, patient and hardworking, you imagine he’d make a great Father. Maybe if he was in on this with you, you’d be able to go through with it. You’d be encouraged to raise this child, if only Mark stands by your side.
You go home that night and receive a call from Mark. You don’t mention anything yet, but the entire time you imagine raising a child with him. It seems so perfect, and it brings you this unexplainable joy. You love Mark, and he loves you. It just feels right. He hangs up at midnight, and you go to sleep, warm in the thought that maybe a pregnancy won’t be so bad.
But thinking about pregnancy and being hit with the reality of it are two different things. At least that’s what it feels like when you finally got a call from the Doctor a week later, confirming that you are, in fact, three weeks pregnant. Stunned doesn’t justify the heavy feeling in your chest as you sit in the break room at work. The Doctor advices that you talk to your partner, and to book in another appointment with her in order to lay out the options. You don’t remember the call ending, in fact you don’t remember the rest of that day, because all you can think about is the life growing in your stomach.
As soon as you get home, the first thing you do is fish around in your handbag for the pamphlets the Doctor gave you during your last visit. You don’t want to decide without Mark, but you also want to be prepared to talk about this with him. Reading up each pamphlet, each one talks about different options, should you choose to have the baby or not. The more you read up on these things, the deeper reality sinks in. Your hand instinctively reaches for your stomach, feeling acutely aware that you now have a life to care for.
It takes two days to finally call Mark, mostly because you wanted to wait for Sunday, knowing he won’t have anything scheduled. You ask him to come over and he seems to have sensed your tone. Mark rushes over to your apartment, arriving what feels like minutes after the phone call.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, hand grabbing your fidgeting fingers. You feel this instant relief at the touch of his hand, but it doesn’t make the situation any easier.
“Yeah, I just,” you find it hard to say the words. “I have something to tell you.”
“Okay,” Mark nods, eyes jumping from feature to feature, trying to get a read of your face.
“Mark, I’m pregnant.”
“Oh,” is his instant reaction, his face clearly surprised by the news. His grip on your hand weakens, his frame falls limp, like the life just left his body. This isn’t the reaction you're hoping for. “How long?”
“Three weeks,” you mutter, awaiting an outburst of some sort.
“Are you sure?”
“I got a blood test at a clinic.”
“What,” he stutters, “What do you want to do?”
“What do you want do?” you ask, although you have a feeling you already know the answer.
Mark is clearly thinking about his words carefully, his serious demeanour accompanied by a frustrated crinkle of his brows and the tight frown on his lips. “Look, you know I love you, and I’d do anything for you,” he reasons carefully, “but I don’t think we’re both at a place where we can raise a child.”
“I get that, but I was hoping we could at least think about this for a few days.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t want to think about this anymore than I have to,” he shakes his head, “this is a simple decision for me.”
“It’s my decision too.”
“And it’s my life too,” Mark frowns. “You know that I’ve given up so much to be where I am right now, and having a baby…”
“What?” you challenge, feeling offended for your unborn child. “Say it.”
“Having a baby changes everything,” he replies easily, “I mean, how are you even going to support this baby? You barely have a steady job.”
You feel particularly hurt that Mark’s not even considering that he’ll be a part of raising his child, as if he already decided he won’t be part of the picture of the baby is born.
“So that’s what you want? You won’t even think about it?” you fight back the tears, gaze dropping to your fidgeting fingers.
“I’m sorry, but I have to think about myself too,” Mark pleads, grabbing your hands still. “I don’t have a normal job, I can’t just have a kid. My managers don’t even know about us, I can’t imagine having to hide a kid from them too.”
“Okay, I understand,” you nod. There’s a stillness in the air that suffocates you the longer you sit in Mark’s presence. You just want space, to be far away from everything. Thankfully Mark takes the initiative to leave, planting a kiss on your head and muttering an ‘I love you’ before leaving. And the moment the door closes after him, you collapse into a sobbing mess. You wrap your arms around yourself, crying tears of anger and sorrow. You feel so betrayed, and so desperately pained. But mostly, you feel pain for the unborn child, and the mere thought haunts you as you take yourself to bed.
Mark texts you sweet messages, but you leave all of them on ‘read’, and let his midnight calls go straight to voicemail. He hasn’t visited since that night, seeing as promotions just started for NCT’s new album. And you're not opposed to it, since you don’t think you want to see him for a while.
Going back to the Doctor’s office alone, you feel defeated. You explain the situation to the Doctor, who keeps the meeting professional as she talks you through the entire process. Sitting on the plastic chair, simmering in this decision, you feel absolutely sick to your core. Your heart pounds against your chest, beating you up for making this decision. But you push all of these feelings down in order to focus on the details. And by the end of the meeting, you’ve booked an appointment with the specialist.
A strange mourning hits you after the meeting, to the point where you begin taking un-necessary days off from work and ignore the odd text and call from friends. You spiral into a dark place, engulfed by an unexplainable sadness, following you around like a shadow over your entire body. You feel sick and weak, and your hand instinctively reaches for your stomach all the time.
When the time comes for your appointment, you get a call from Mark. A couple of weeks ago, you texted him the date of the appointment, and since then, you’ve both been pretending like your relationship hasn’t been changed. His phone call is short, apologising that he can’t be there for you because he’s promoting in America, telling you that he loves you and thinks the world of you, and promising to call later that day.
After checking in at the front desk of the clinic, you sit down in a waiting room with other women. Some are expecting Mother’s, months into their pregnancy, and some are teenagers, twiddling their thumbs and potentially awaiting the same fate as you. You sit in the waiting room for some time, listening to nothing but the sound of a dull radio station and the ticking of a wall clock. And it all becomes a little too much.
Feeling overwhelmed, you struggle to breathe in a room that feels as though it’s closing in on you. You grip the the arms of your plastic seat, squeezing until your knuckles turn white. Somewhere in the background of your laboured breathing, you hear someone calling your name, maybe once, or twice. But you are absolutely convinced that you're glued to your chair, and your hands are going to leave an imprint on the plastic arm rest. Staying planted, you feel the weight of the world pinning you down. When you don’t hear your name anymore, your breathing eases up, knuckles loosening it's grip from the arms of the chair.
Before anyone can approach you with questions, you stand up and quickly walk out the door. The weight of worry dissipates, immediately leaving you blank, empty of any emotion. You walk and walk with no particular destination in mind, focusing on nothing but putting one foot in front of the other.
When you find yourself lost in an unfamiliar street, you pull your phone out. As much as you try to brush it off, pretending to be okay with this decision has been killing you from the inside. You realise that this isn’t a decision you can compromise on, no matter how much you love Mark. And if he says that he doesn’t want this baby, then you’re going to have to respect his decision. Finding his number, you inhale what feels like your first breath of fresh air.
You: I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore.
You: I’m breaking up with you.
—
Forcing yourself to move on feels easier when you have real motivations on the line. You admit that it was harsh of you to break up with Mark without giving him the chance of having a real conversation, especially with him being in America for promotions. But the baby isn’t going to wait for you to sort out your relationship; you have to prioritise that above all else. Of course, the text would be followed by a dozen missed calls and a long list of ignored messages before you finally decide to block him. You also get a few messages from the members who had your number, all of them pleading for you to talk to Mark. But you decide to be selfish and ignore them too, completely blocking out any mention of NCT or Mark in your life.
You tell your parents about the baby, refusing to disclose who the Father is and pretending that he’s a one night stand who doesn’t want anything to do with you. They’re disappointed that you’d make such poor life choices, but in the end, they’re family and they agree to support you in your pregnancy. Moving back home will suit everyone best, especially since it’ll give you the chance to be outside of Seoul, and Mark wouldn’t even think of trying to find you in Busan. You have to quit your job of course, and say goodbye to your closest friends - which was the hardest part of leaving so quickly.
In a matter of days you were out of Seoul, just in time before Mark came back from America.
Your Father is surprisingly supportive while your Mother remains disappointed. But you pay them no mind as you make the baby the main priority of your life. You chose to keep this baby, and you’ll fight for that decision, even if it means raising the baby yourself. The mere thought of letting this baby go gave you nightmares for weeks, and in the depths of your heart, you just knew you could never actually part with your unborn child.
The weeks turned to months very quickly. You were the talk of your small town for a while, with neighbours suddenly stopping by for apparently no reason just so they could pass judgments to your face. But you pay them no mind, instead focusing your efforts in making sure the baby is born healthy and preparing for their entrance into the world. You take classes by yourself, or sometimes with your Mother when she has a day off from work. You look up tips online from experienced Mothers, and you even start sewing some baby clothes in your spare time. You purposely don’t watch TV and you avoid flicking through the radio station. Sometimes you’ll see a poster ad of NCT promoting something, but you’re quick to avoid it and focus on something else.
Your Mother insists that you reconnect with the Father, at least for your child’s sake. But you explain to her over and over again that it’s not an option you’re willing to take, not even for your child. Truthfully, you’re afraid to meet that other side of Mark again, the selfish one who wouldn’t event consider parenthood. You couldn’t afford to be heartbroken all over again, not for the health of your baby. Besides, he made it clear that having this child is not what he wanted.
The months quickly fly by, and before you can even feel remotely prepared, you're due in a week. You insist on not finding out the gender until you’ve given birth, wanting it to be a surprise for everyone. truthfully, you haven’t really decided on a name, because every time you do, your mind can’t help but wander back to Mark. You try to imagine what name he'd pick, feeling as though you owe this child some connection to their Father.
You were in the hospital for three days, the contractions driving you mad to the walls. Your Mother tries to be helpful but you know who you really needed in this very moment. You’re almost tempted to call him, to break down the months worth of walls that you built between the two of you. You’re gripping your phone, staring at the screen indecisively.
But in the end, the baby decides that it wants to come out before you can unlock your phone and make the call. You’re rushed into a different room, and the entire thing is 7 hours of painful blur. Everyone’s telling you to push, and someone is gripping onto your hand. Tears are streaming down your face as you can only really think of one person during the entire thing, and how you wish you didn’t have to feel so alone in this room full of people.
But everything takes a standstill when you hear the wailing of a child. Your child. Your heart palpitates in a way that feels much stronger than love, stronger than anything you’ve ever experienced. Looking down, you see the Doctor grinning as she announces “It’s a boy!”
As the Doctor gently lays him against your chest, you find that all the anxiety and regrets your body held melts away. You just can’t peel your eyes away from him. He’s so precious, so small, yet so full of life. You feel your heart burst with an immense joy. He’s so fragile, and all you want to do is protect him and give him the very best of everything. You whisper your promises into his tiny ears, wanting him to feel all the love in the world.
“What’s his name?”
Staring down at your little boy, you feel like there’s no other name that would suit him best. The name lurches out of the depths of your heart. “Minhyung,” you smile, “his name is Minhyung.”
They keep you in the hospital for a few more days, as per courtesy of the child care services in the hospital. You spend all of that time worrying about the baby, if he’s doing okay, if he’s comfortable, if he’s eating enough or too much. You can't help it, Minhyung is the most precious thing in your life and you don’t want to risk missing anything because you had to eat or bathe. Staying by his side, you tuck him into blankets and tend to every noise he makes.
For the past nine months, you’ve developed many fears about being a good Mother, about doing this right. Thoughts of Mark still linger in the back of your head, wondering if you should maybe call him, wondering if maybe he deserves to know that he has a son. But then you remember his words, and you remember his priorities. You don’t want your baby to be forced into the spotlight, nor did you want to suffer the judgement from his company. So in the end, the moment you left the hospital with Minhyung, you decided to leave behind any thoughts about including Mark in your family picture.
“We’re going to be okay Minhyung,” you whisper to your little baby boy, “I promise I’ll give you the world.”
Living with family feels like a blessing, especially when they offer the helping hands during the hours where all you want to do is sleep. Minhyung is a bright baby boy with a lot of life and very little to complain about. He’s naturally curious about everything and is developing extremely fast for his age. In a matter of months he’s speaking simple sentences and running around on his own. Thankfully, your parents have encouraged you to find a job while they cut back on their hours to help look after Minhyung. It’s difficult to part with your baby boy each morning, but the ball of happiness that greets you every time you come home makes everything in life worth it.
You have to keep working, especially if you want to secure Minhyung a great future. So you do all the work that you can get your hands on, and your tenacity paired with a history of working in reputable salon, it became easy to move your way up in Busan. Soon you’re being hired for private events, doing celebrity make-ups, and even invited to consult in styling. With a comfortably steady income, it became easier to put Minhyung in a good pre-school. You’re happy that he’s happy, that he can succeed in the world and your life choices aren’t going to hold him back in any way.
Although living in Busan has been ideal, your parents are starting to struggle keeping all of you under the same roof. Though he championed your stay in Busan, your Father was also the one who suggest finding a place for you and Minhyung alone, perhaps even back to the big city. It makes sense after all. Your current employer keeps offering you positions in their salons in Seoul. There are better schools there for Minhyung. And you’d be out of your parent’s hair.
But there is a glaring downside.
Mark lives in Seoul. In fact NCT has become a massive hit and now they’re everywhere. You’ve forgotten about Mark for almost three years, and you’re afraid of what would happen if you saw even just a photo of him. You’re content with your life, of course, confident in the choices you’ve made. But it’s always going to be there in the back of your mind, always asking the same ‘what if’s’.
Moving back to Seoul isn’t easy, but Minhyung excitement is more than enough to feed you the necessary energy. Finding an apartment wasn’t hard, considering you had old friends giving you recommendations left and right. And Minhyung’s shining recommendation lands him a good private school that’s very close to your salon.
For a boy who grew up in a small town, Minhyung loves the city, enamoured by the bright lights and loud noises. You find a shine in his eyes that reminds you of the first time you moved to the city.
“Do you like it here buddy?” you ask him over a shared bowl of fruit resting on top of an unpacked cardboard box.
“Yes,” he grins, dancing with glee, “I like all the cars, and the ice cream!”
You laugh at his enthusiasm, watching him jump around as he actively eats his fruits. It’s moments like these that makes every single hardship worthwhile, all to see your little boy happy. It makes you feel like you could conquer the world, that all of your bad decisions never existed. But there are just some things you can’t escape, things that you know would need to be confronted someday.
“Mommy can you help me with something?” Minhyung calls out from the living room table.
“Sure thing bud,” you chirp, walking over to find him focused on his homework, “What’s up?”
“I need to fill out my family tree” he hums, busy colouring in the leaves.
“Oh.”
You feel sick with nerves. The colourful sheet confronts you with labels like ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’, the empty lines waiting to be filled. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to answer this question, and you’ve learned to be confident in your answer. But this isn’t just some annoying relative or a nosy friend. This is your son, asking you who his family is. You could lie to your friends and family, but not to your child.
“Well, we have grandma and grandpa,” you start, pointing at the lines that he needs to fill up, “and then there’s mommy, and little Minhyung-ie.”
“Who goes here?” Minhyung asks innocently, pointing at the line sitting next to your name. He blinks up at you with his dark round eyes, and you find you cannot do it. You can’t sell him the same lie that you’ve been giving everyone else.
“Well,” you take a shaky breath. “A Dad would usually go in there.”
“Oh,” Minhyung’s gaze looks too much like someone else’ curious eyes. “Do I have a dad?”
“Yeah, you do bud,” you smile sadly. “But he’s not with us.”
“Is he dead?”
“No, he’s not dead,” you find it difficult to phrase yourself without hurting his feelings, afraid to shatter something inside that can never be repaired. “He’s just, not part of our family.”
“Why not?”
“Because a long time ago, your Dad and I made a decision, and he decided that he won’t be part of our family.”
“Why not?” Minhyung’s voice grows weak, and guilt rips through your body.
“He just wasn’t ready” you tell him half of the truth. Because you don’t want to tell him that Mark’s managers would have pressured you to get rid of the baby, and you didn’t want to tell him that Mark’s job would have suffered because of him. Instead you tell Minhyung that Mark just wasn’t ready to have a son, and you weren’t ready to let go of your baby.
“Is he ready now?” Minhyung’s face lights up, and somehow this is the worst heartbreak you’ve ever felt. Because even though you could grant Minhyung the opportunity to know his Dad, you also want to be selfish. You don’t want Mark to touch the life you’ve created for you and your little boy, you’ve come too far without him. His presence won’t make a difference in your life. But it would change Minhyung’s life. You know this purely from the hope that colours on his face, you can see much your little boy wants to know his Dad. But you’re too selfish and bitter, and perfectly content with what you have now.
“No,” you frown, “I’m sorry buddy.”
Minhyung slumps on his seat, and it’s clear he’s disappointed. He just found out that he has a Father, and then he learns that he can’t meet him. It’s not exactly the story any kid wants to hear, but it’s the story you’ve given him. And you convince yourself it’s the right story to tell.
“But you know what? We don’t need him. Because we’ve had each other for this long, and we’re going to have each other until we’re old and wrinkly. I’ve got your back if you’ve got mine, okay bud?”
“Okay,” Minhyung smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
He doesn’t say much about it after that.
Things settle into a routine for the next few months. Minhyung soars in school, being the little genius that you always knew he would become. And you progress to seniority in your job, giving you flexible hours so you can spend time with Minhyung. You don’t even really need to tend to customers everyday anymore, having earned yourself notoriety in the business to the point where you’re booked months in advance for gigs.
Life is starting to feel good, far away from worries of being a single working Mother, alone in the city. But of course, life has to rock the boat every now and then.
The booking was under the name Jung Yoonoh, and you didn’t think any more of it. You waltz into work that day, still chuckling about a new joke that Minhyung learned and shared with you when you dropped him off at school. It’s shaping up to be just another normal day at work, until you tend to your client, and you find Jung Jaehyun sitting on the chair that your client reserved.
Stopping in your tracks, you feel a cold sweat run down your back. He doesn’t look too different, maybe a bit more mature, but he always had that aura to begin with. Everything comes crashing back in a second, and all you want is to run away. But he makes eye contact with you, spotting your reflection on the mirror in front of him, and his face is coloured with surprise. Realising there’s no escape, you step forward and greet him with a meek “Hey.”
“Hi,” he stutters, “how are you?”
“I’m doing good,” you nod, eager to switch topics. “Just a haircut today?”
“And a dye please,” Jaehyun replies, although he sounds distant.
“Which colour?”
“Why did you break up with Mark?” Jaehyun studies your expression from the mirror. You look down at his hair, occupying yourself with his long strands, pretending you don’t hear the question.
“I think a light brown would suit you well,” you nod, faking a smile before disappearing to the backroom to prepare the hair dye. You’re almost tempted to ask one of your co-workers to do the job instead. But you know how unprofessional that can come off, especially since your employers don’t know about this aspect of your life. So before you walk back out to cut Jaehyun’s hair, you take a few deep breaths and plaster on a friendly smile.
Jaehyun keeps quiet as you make work of his hair, only nodding when you ask him a few questions, but never engaging in a real conversation. It feels odd, because you pride yourself in leaving a good experience with your customer. But Jaehyun’s different, there’s history there that you’d rather not tread. As you finish bleaching his hair, you move to fetch the hair dye. Swirling the colour around, you come back and find Jaehyun on his phone. But as you resume your position behind him, he pockets the device and goes back to just being quiet.
The silence starts to bother you, and you know that you’d have to clear the air at some point. You can’t keep torturing yourself by holding on to the past forever. “I had my reasons,” you explain, “for the break up.”
Jaehyun perks up, obviously surprised that you’re talking about it. “Mark was broken for months,” Jaehyun frowns like he doesn’t understand your reason, “you left him in the cold with no explanation.”
“It was complicated,” you mutter. You’re not proud of how things ended with Mark, but you were scared, and worried about how his company would handle the situation.
“What could have been so complicated that you’d break up with him over text?”
“Did he,” you hesitate a little, not sure if you want to know the answer. “Did he ever mention anything to you, about us, at that time?”
“No,” Jaehyun’s eyes pierce into yours. “He refused to talk to anyone, he bottled it all up. He called you all the time. He visited your apartment, but apparently you skipped town. He even talked to your co-workers. He almost went public about your relationship because he thought you’d come back to him then.”
Unable to hide the surprise, your jaw slacks and your eyes flutter in disbelief.
“Yeah, then we convinced him that you’re not worth his time anymore,” Jaehyun seems bitter, his dark eyes judging you. “He cried himself to sleep for a month. You broke his heart, and you didn’t even give him an explanation.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not the who needs an apology,” Jaehyun shakes his head. “I’d say call him, but honestly, maybe you’re both better off never seeing each other again.”
The guilt eats you up, stirring inside you like a pot of acid, burning everything it touches. With skilled hands, you finish the job as quickly as you can, because all you want right now is to go home and cry into a pillow. Jaehyun’s right, what you did to Mark is beyond cruel. Mark didn’t deserve that, but you also can’t say that you regret that decision, not when it’s the one that brought your little boy into the world.
The job is almost done, just finishing up a few final touches, when the doors open and you hear a familiar little voice sing “Mommy!”. You almost drop the scissors in your hand as another layer of fear piles on top of your anxieties. There’s a momentary glance that you share with Jaehyun, and you find it unsettling that you can’t seem to read anything on his face.
“Mommy I learned how to draw a pig today!” Minhyung brags rather proudly.
“That’s so cool buddy,” you smile, bending down to your little boy. “Mommy’s busy right now so can you just wait for me at the back please?”
Minhyung nods obediently and one of your co-workers keeps him occupied. Turning back to Jaehyun’s hair, you feel nervous when you find this curious stare in his eyes.
“You have a son?”
You nod, keeping your responses short in case you let something slip through.
Feeling bitter, you want to defend yourself, but quickly realise that maybe it’s better this way. Because this way, Jaehyun won’t suspect that your son could also be Mark’s son. You can live with the shame of being judged by Mark and his friends, but you couldn’t live with Mark finding out that he has a son. You convince yourself that it’s the lesser of two evils, and you quietly play along with Jaehyun’s theory.
“Well, I hope you’re happy I guess,” Jaehyun sighs, seeming disinterested in the whole ordeal. You remember a time when Jaehyun was kind to you. He supported your relationship with Mark and helped cover for him when Mark wanted to sleep over at yours. Jaehyun sees Mark like his own little brother, so you’re not the least bit surprised to get this kind of reaction from him.
Finishing up his hair, Jaehyun - despite the tension - admits that he’s very happy with his new haircut. You both speed through the payment process, not bothering with small talk, a silent agreement that you both want to be rid of each other’s presence. As Jaehyun’s about to leave, he turns to you one last time with a soft plea, “I’m not going to force you, but maybe think about making things right with Mark. He might seem fine now, and you’ve clearly moved on, but some closure would be good. For the both of you.”
For a couple of long days and sleepless nights, you mull on Jaehyun’s words. But you simply come to the same conclusion that your life is better off without Mark. It’s selfish, and maybe Mark deserves this closure. But you’re afraid that if you see him again, some part of you will be convinced that you should get back with him. That you should create the picture perfect family you imagined with him. But life is perfectly fine the way it is, you don’t need to complicate it any further.
As the salon flourishes, so does your name in the idol industry. It wasn’t your intention to work with idols, but it offers great pay and flexibility. You get hired by managers to do on-site work sometimes, never really out of the city, often just asking you to work the day for a music video filming or an album photo shoot. Every now and then you also travel to music shows to do hair or make up for smaller idol groups. It’s a fun job, and Minhyung likes it when you get called on-site, because it usually meant you came back home with a present for him.
But you’ve also had to hire a babysitter, because some of these music shows would run ’til the late evening. You feel bad, but it’s only every now and then, and you try not to make a habit of neglecting your son for work. The system works perfectly fine, until one day, you get booked by YG Entertainment to do make up for Blackpink, for their Music Bank performance. You accepted the booking after seeing the large sum they agreed to pay you, and you booked your babysitter in advance. But on the day of the booking, your babysitter calls in sick, and having no back up, you’re forced to contact Blankpink’s manager and plead your case, explaining that you cannot leave your son at home. They were hesitant, but you promised he’d be no trouble at all.
Minhyung’s excited. He’s seen the show on TV, and he’s eager to meet TV people in real life. He’s never been a troublesome kid, and putting activities in front of him will hopefully keep him occupied for the entire booking. “Okay buddy,” you give him a pep talk as you park your car, “we have to be extra good today. Because Mommy’s working with some really important people and we have to do a good job. Can you be a good boy today?”
“Yesssss,” Minhyung shouts enthusiastically.
“And if you do a good job today, there’ll be a treat for you when we get home,” you wink.
The little boy’s features light up, excited by the prospect of a surprise treat. Hopping out of your car, you take your equipment out first, and then help Minhyung down from his car seat. Hand in hand, you both make your way into the building, following the instructions sent to your phone. The building is huge, and it’s easy to get lost with all the stairs and corridors. But thankfully there are signs everywhere, and you find yourself in the right floor in no time.
Walking past door after door, you read the names in search for Blackpink. But your feet suddenly become heavy when you see the name NCT 127 on a laminated piece of paper, stuck onto a white door. Your breath is caught in your throat, and your hand grips Minhyung a little tighter. You imagine yourself knocking on that door and seeing Mark, and telling him everything. But you also see the fear in his eyes when he finds out the truth. Dizzy with overwhelming thoughts, you snap back to reality when the door handle suddenly turns, and you freeze, waiting for the worst to happen. As the door swings open, an older man with a round face greets you in surprise, asking a flustered “Can I help you?”
“Wrong room, sorry,” you immediately reply, ushering yourself off down the hall.
Shaking off the nerves, you search diligently for the room. There’s a job to do and you can’t be distracted. Finally finding the sign, you knock on the door and a woman answers with a kind smile. She shows you around, telling you where you can set up and what kind of work you’ll be doing for the day.
The members of Blackpink arrive half an hour later, and you introduce yourself to them before getting into work. They all gush over your son, who enjoys the attention and the praises thrown his way a little too much. Thankfully there’s only four of them, so you could do some real work on each member rather than try to rush through everybody. They were going for a ‘troublemaker’ concept so you accentuated their eyes with liner and matched everyone to the right tone of red lipstick. They’re all very warm and lively, and they keep Minhyung company as they wait their turn. You’re grateful to have such nice clients, because you’ve heard some idols can be stuck up or closed off in real life.
The members get called on to the stage, and you’re asked to go with them to touch up on make up if needed. You contemplate taking Minhyung with you, but the woman from earlier offers to keep an eye on him while you went out to work. Following behind the members, you come across a few other idols on the way, and you feel a knot in your stomach. You don’t exactly want your first run-in with Mark to be like this, but you also don’t really get to choose your moments in life, and you’ll just have to make do with what you get.
Watching from the side, you’re fascinated to see Blackpink performing on stage. They’re definitely talented and they look amazing. But they also had to re-shoot a couple of times, and you find yourself running to some of the members in-between takes to touch up their make up or fix their hair. Thankfully, the girls were very kind and mindful, and they often helped you by fixing up their own hair as per your instructions from the side of the stage.
Finishing up their recording, they do a final bow before walking off-stage. And you don’t hear it, but behind you, the next group prepares to go up. You’re too busy congratulating Blackpink for their cool performance that you don’t sense someone walking behind you, at least not until they bump into your shoulder. Turning around, you instinctively start apologising, but the words are caught in your throat when you find yourself face to face with Mark. You blink, unable to process anything else around you. He looks different, older, skinnier, with soft brown hair. But still the same doe eyes that you loved.
“Hi,” he greets first, a little breathless as his eyes take you in.
“Hey,” you reply slowly, not sure if this is a good idea. But before any real conversation could happen, someone calls for Mark and the reunion is cut short by his manager hurrying him up on stage. Mark looks between you and his manager before dashing to the stage, his eyes glance back at you a couple of times, almost like he’s pleading for you to wait for him.
Feeling shaky and disorientated, you follow the Blackpink members back to their dressing room. And when the manager tells you that you can take a break, you take the opportunity to clear your head and take Minhyung to the cafeteria. You relax in there, knowing Mark won’t be in the same room. Letting Minhyung choose whatever he wants, you order something light for yourself, the hunger subsiding as stress fills up your body. So many things has happened today, and you just need to ground yourself. So you decide to just focus on Minhyung for the entire break.
“What have you been doing today buddy?” you ask, watching proudly as Minhyung eats with his chopsticks.
“I had some fruits earlier,” Minhyung explains between mouthfuls. “And I also got to play phone games.”
“What kind of games did you play?”
“There was this one with a dog, and you talk to it and it said funny things back to you,” Minhyung giggles, recalling the animated dog. “And there was this game with a truck, and you drive around and pick up things.”
“Did you just play games all day?” you tease, watching your son squirm as he tries to justify his actions. But you only chuckle when he makes up some moral lesson about why it’s important for him to play phone games, and why you should download games on your phone. It’s entertaining to say the least, and it definitely took your mind off of earlier events.
“Alright buddy, we should probably go back,” you prompt, grabbing Minhyung’s hand and walking him down the hall. The little boy swings your hand as he skips around jovially, giggling at his own actions, and you can’t help but laugh along with him.
“Mommy,” Minhyung suddenly whines, which means that he wants something.
“Yeah buddy?” you look down, seeing the biggest doe eyes staring back up at you.
“Can you buy me juice from the machine?” he pouts, pointing at the vending machine up ahead. You’d usually say no, but you’re in a good mood, and he’s been well-behaved the whole day. So you nod in response, and he practically squeals, capturing the attention of the people around you. Embarrassed, you tug him along and bow in apology for the disturbance.
Taking him up to the machine, you take your card out as ask him what he wants to get. He points at the watermelon drink, and you punch in the code before swiping your card.
“Alright buddy, here you go,” you sing, taking the drink out to give to Minhyung. But as you turn, your heart drops when you don’t find your son anywhere around you. Your heart pounds against your chest, and a rush of adrenaline runs through your veins as you search up and down the hall. You call out his name in panic, gripping the bottle of watermelon drink so hard you thought the bottle would burst.
“Mommy,” you hear Minhyung’s tiny voice call out, “over here!”
You turn around and you find your little boy standing by the vending machine, back on the same spot that he was in. You break into a sprint, falling to your knees as you reach down to engulf him in a tight hug. The feeling of your son wrapped within your arms calms you down immediately.
“Oh my God, don’t do that again, I was so scared,” you mutter into his hair.
“I’m sorry,” Minhyung pouts. “But that man offered me a candy.”
“What man?” you ask, pulling away to hold him at arm’s length. It’s then that you notice the candy shape sticking out the side of his cheek.
“That man,” Minhyung points behind you, and when you turn, your heart almost stops.
Standing up nervously to meet his eye level, you keep your son by your side, almost like you’re shielding him from the truth. But Mark’s just looking at you, like he has so many things to say but no courage to utter a single word. He eyes look sad, maybe anguished, and his hands sink into his pockets; something he does when he’s feeling small and vulnerable.
“You have a son,” he smiles weakly, but there’s a glassiness in his eyes that spoke the heartache to you.
“Yeah,” you look down, staring at your shoes. From the side you see Minhyung looking up between the two of you, almost like he knows what this conversation is about. From the corner of your eye, you notice Mark bending down to Minhyung’s eye level, a soft smile on his lips as he asks, “What’s your name?”
“Minhyung,” your son grins, and you feel a little panic in your chest. You watch Mark’s reaction, seeing the confused knot in-between his eyebrows, and then watching all of his features fall into a deadpanned expression. And you know he’s realised exactly what happened. He looks up at you and he doesn’t even have to ask the question, as he slowly figures out the exact reason why you broke up with him all those years ago, why he never saw you or heard from you since.
Mark drops his head, staring at the floor. He slowly lifts himself up to your height, his eyes staring down at Minhyung with an unexplainable sadness. It’s breaking your heart in the worst way, eating you up with a mix of guilt and grief. You’re right to be afraid of this moment, because no pain could compare to seeing Mark’s face as he realises that you’ve kept his son away from him all these years.
“You should have told me,” he frowns.
“You didn’t even want him,” you whisper.
“But you should have told me you did,” he snaps, looking you in the eyes with a tormented heart. “How could you keep this from me?”
“It wasn’t easy,” you reply shakily. “But it was the right thing to do.”
“The right thing?”
“You said it yourself, you weren’t ready and neither was your job.”
“I could sue you for this.”
“And risk exposing this to the public?” you challenge him. “I don’t think you want to do that to your career. Or to him.”
Mark’s overcome with a feeling of helplessness, knowing how right you are in the situation. His shoulders slump as he runs a hand down his face. You feel Minhyung’s hand letting go of yours, and as you look down, you find him staring up at Mark. And a part of you feels it. Minhyung has recognised his own Father. You see it in the way his eyes blink, and the way he just zeroes in on Mark. It tugs at your heart, and now you wish things could have gone differently. Now you wish that you did right by him from the beginning and were honest about everything. You wish you could have given Minhyung the picture perfect family that he deserves. But you also wish that you never took this booking, or that you never bumped into Mark earlier. You feel overwhelmed by everything all at once, and all you want is to pick up Minhyung in your arms and walk away, as if none of this ever happened. But that’s not possible anymore, not when Minhyung has figured it out.
“Dad?” Minhyung calls out weakly, his soft voice pulling all the life out of your chest.
Mark’s surprised to hear the words from such a small voice, and he looks at you, almost begging for permission. And you don’t really have any other choice at this point. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you nod at Mark. And you watch as he kneels back down to Minhyung’s eye level.
“Yeah Minhyung,” Mark smiles weakly, his voice nervous and hesitant, “I’m your Dad.”
💌I don't know about you but I really really really really 💞enjoyed💞 your Back to Basics and I hope that you keep updating the remaining oneshots but if you don't want to or if you are busy that's okay too.
Just so you know I ❤ love ❤ back to basics.
Hope you have a nice day.💌
- 🍷
Thank you so much!!
I'd really like to update the rest of it, but I'd also need to dig around for my notes. Looking back, it was a bit of an ambitious project to string together a series of connected oneshots (I guess that just makes it a series lmao). But when I do find the notes, I would love to update it - I guess I can only guarantee you that in time it will be updated 🤧
Thank you so much for the love towards the writing, it's encouraging and inspiring to hear! 💞
I am always pleasantly surprised by my notifications when I log back in. I can’t believe some of my stuff is still in circulation when it’s been so long since I last posted anything on here. Thanks for reading my stuff, and for still following my blog despite the inactivity ❤ One of my mutuals (and irl friend) alerted me to some new NCT content, so I’ll be more active around here as a result. Please don’t be a stranger, I’d be delighted to interact with you!
kaledo-art
yousharknotpass
tangentwithtanner
