Summary: One reckless night leads to the biggest and most unexpected change in your life. How will this affect your current life and how you and the charming stranger you met only once will manage to handle the bringing of a new life to this world together is a challenge yet to be discovered. Will you be able to make the right choices while battling your own demons? Who knows, all you must be worried about now is that your period is late...
Description: Modern AU | Firefighter Baby Daddy!Ace
WARNINGS: english is not my first language, explicit language, NSFW, 18+ only, contains explicit sexual themes and content, use of alcohol, slow burn, conflicted feelings, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, jealousy, suggestive themes, previous toxic relationships, mention of depression, mention/description of pregnancy, strangers to co-parents to lovers, mentions of a lot of anxiety, mentions of cheating, mentions of mental trauma, social anxiety (+ more warnings will be added if needed to)
Additional tags: Reader is super awkward and has social anxiety and low-self esteem but this changes (I don't want to spoil), Ace is emotional invalid when it comes to love, but this also changes (no spoilers)
WORD COUNT: 10,6K
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NOTE: Thank you all for your patience with me, I don't deserve you ♡ This chapter turned out way longer than I thought it would, I litrally thought that it won't be more than 12 pages max, but then it turned out to be 21 pages at the end. I really hope you like it, more yapp in the end note - Enjoy ♡
“You’re a hundred percent sure this is what you want?” Doctor Belladona asks you, but side-glances at Ace, who seems lost in his own thought standing at the corner of the room next to the door, before she looks back at you. You confidently nod, no doubt in your mind that this is what you want. “Let’s get you checked then and talk about what’s to come next.” She gestures with her hand for you to go and lay on the examination bed. “Ace.” She turns to him, but he doesn’t response to her. She calls him once again, but this time it is a bit louder, catching both of your attention.
He shakes his head and bilks twice before he looks at her, giving her a nod that he is paying attention to what she is saying now. “You can take a seat next to her.” A warm smile spreads across her face as she points to the chair next to the bed.
Ace glances at the chair and once again doesn’t say anything as he just nods and makes his way to sit. You follow him carefully with your eyes. He doesn’t seem well. His skin looks a bit pale, and you can see his left eyebrow twitching a bit. You are sure he is going through something in his head but won’t show it or say anything in front of you, probably because he doesn’t want you to worry about him. He is about to sit when you stop him as you reach over and grab his hand.
“Could we just have a minute, please?” Turning to your doctor, you give her an apologetic look, but as always, she is understanding and just leaves the room. The moment you two are left alone you pat the bed, inviting Ace to sit next to you. He sits next to you without protesting and gives you a questioning look.
“Are you okay?” You tilt your head to the side, studying his face carefully.
“All good.” He shrugs, his voice not convincing at all.
“Bull.” You bitterly chuckle.
The corner of his lip lifts for a smile, but he can barely hold it for a second. “I’m not.”
Bobbing your head, you are a bit surprised that he actually admits it. “Yes, I can tell you’re not okay.” You tell him, but he is quick to correct you.
“No, I meant I’m not bullshiting you.”
A deep sigh leaves your lips. “Ace, you don’t need to do this.”
Now he is the one who takes a deep inhale and then exhale. “How many times I have to tell you that I’ll do this.” He clenches his jaw as he tries to keep his nerves under control. This doesn’t go unnoticed by you.
“I mean you don’t need to be here right now if you don’t want to.” You hesitate for a second before placing your hand on his thigh close to his knee and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’ve done it twice alone already.” Your eyes lock with him. “I can do it again.” Even though you would prefer to do it with him this time, you can’t allow yourself to tell him this. Part of you is still feeling guilty for choosing yourself and what you want over what he wants.
Ace slowly nods. “You sure about that?” His eyes narrow, his hand now placed on top of yours on his knee; for the little time you two have spent together he has already learned that you tend to put others first even if you don’t feel like it.
The fake smile you have mastered over the years makes its way on your face as fast as you blink followed by a small nod, like that would settle it. Pulling your hand away, you wave it as it will be nothing new for you to go through. “I got this.” You reassure him once again, glancing away from him as you try to swallow the heaviness that settles in your chest for a moment. After all this is the answer you expect from him, yet you wish he has chosen to stay.
He leans closer and you feel his hot breath glazing the skin between your neck and ear, causing goosebumps to run up and down your spine as he speaks. “I hope you’ve enjoyed those two appointments alone,” turning your head to face him, you freeze for a second because of how close you are to each other, your noses just millimeters from touching, “because from now on, you have to do them with me by your side.” Ace winks at you as he pulls away and holds out his fist.
Your knuckles meet in a quiet fist bump, but neither of you moves right away. This brief touch lingered for a bit longer than it is intended to, with your fists still in the air as both of you stare at the way your knuckles fit perfectly, but the shared touch brings some kind of strange comfort to both of you. It is almost like you just made a pact – that from now on you have each other and that is all this is about, and this thought alone terrifies you; because for whatever reason, being around Ace gives you this calmness of feeling safe, something that you haven’t experienced in a long time, let alone with a man.
The moment is interrupted by doctor Belladona as she enters the room again, startling both of you a bit and pulling away from each other as if you have been caught doing something you shouldn’t do. “Are you ready to start?” She asks with a smile on her face. Both of you give her a short nod, as Ace gets up and takes a seat on the chair next to the examination bed, and you lay down lifting your shirt up reviling your belly.
His eyes immediately fell on it. The bump there is still invisible, after all you are still too early in the pregnancy, but him knowing that there is something growing inside of you that he caused in the first place scares the soul out of him. This all feels like a very bad dream, a nightmare even, but even when he digs his fingers into his arm, hard enough to make his skin sting and bloom red beneath his nails, the world around him doesn’t waver, and he cannot wake up. This is all real and his biggest fear is becoming a reality. On the background he can hear yours and the doctor’s voices but everything around him feels way too disconnected at the moment.
It takes all the energy he has within himself to move his gaze away from your belly and look at the ultrasound screen on the other side of the bed. His eyes focus on the small dot on the screen. It looks a bit bigger than the first time he seen it. Yet nothing from the inside of him seems to react in a positive way. He is sure that many men in his place would be jumping up to the ceiling or cry happy tears, but all Ace can see is the consequences of one reckless night.
His eyes slowly move from the screen to your face. Your eyes are a still puffy from earlier, but now there is not an ounce of sadness in them. You look contented. The soft smile placed on your lips seems genuinely sincere it even reaches the corners of your eyes. This smile is nothing compared to the ones he has seen before on you. He does wish that he could share the same emotions that you are currently feeling, but he just cannot. All he could feel right now is undeniable dread for what is to come in less than eight months from now.
“It’s a very healthy baby, this is one thing I can assure you both.” Doctor Belladona tells you with a smile. “But don’t skip the pills I’ve prescribed you ever again.” Her tone turns serious with a warning look on her face as she hands you some paper to wipe yourself from the gel.
“I won’t.” You nod as you are taking the paper from her and softly wiping away the cold gel off your belly.
“You two want a picture of the ultrasound?” She looks at you and then Ace. You turn your head to the side to check with him and he just shrugs.
“I guess yes.” He murmurs. Last thing he wants is a reminder of this, but he needs to get used to it.
You want to tell him that he doesn’t need to have one, but you chose to keep this to yourself and not speak about it in front of your doctor. “Yes, we would like to have some.” You turn back to her, and she nods and goes to press something on the machine that quickly prints two pictures of the ultrasound.
She looks at the pictures before she hands them to you. “Last time it was the size of a pea, now at week nine is around the size of a grape.” Taking the pictures in your hand, your heartbeat fastens a bit. “They grow fast, but do not worry. You should not start showing until the second trimester.”
Your head snaps toward her, and you quickly sit upright, convinced you must have misheard. “Wait, what?” Your eyes widen in pure shock. “B-but this is in like four weeks.”
Doctor Belladonna couldn’t contain her laughter as she gently pats your shoulder. “Don’t worry, you won’t just wake up one day and have huge belly, but around the fifth month of the pregnancy you will slowly start showing.” Her words clearly don’t ease your worry that has entered your mind just now. “Look, it is different from woman to woman. You might even start showing at the end of it, but even so if you plan to hide from friends and family usually most women fail around the end of the fifth month.”
And just when you think that you can enjoy a few weeks of not stressing yourself with the situation around your pregnancy, the realization of having to tell your parents way sooner than you have planned hits you like a truck. You are not ready to face them with the news at all. Knowing your parents they will lose their minds over the fact that you randomly got knocked up and then you decided to keep it, will definitely leads to an extremely big and unpleasant argument.
Not understanding the reasons for your sudden change, doctor Belladonna reassures you once again. “Don’t worry about your body now. It will bounce back fast to what it was before the pregnancy before you know it.”
Wanting to change the subject, so you can forget about this worry for now, you clean your throat and turn to your doctor once again. “When is my next appointment?”
“Until week twenty-eight, it’s every four weeks. My assistant will email you the date and time of your next appointment.” She tilts her head slightly toward Ace. “Is he okay?”
You glance over your shoulder. Ace is still frozen in place, as if he hasn’t moved an inch. “He just needs some time,” you say softly, your eyes lingering on him. “Thank you again.” You reach out for a handshake with your doctor. “See you in four weeks.”
Scanning the room, you spot your handbag and pick it up before stepping in front of Ace and calling his name gently. He blinks once, then twice and finally looks up at you. “We can go now.”
He doesn’t say anything as he gets up and follows after you. His body is on an autopilot, while his mind is on the run.
Walking out of the hospital, you look back at him, and his state hasn’t changed one bit. “What have I done…” You murmur under your breath as you shift to face him. You suddenly stop on your track causing him almost bumping into you.
He stops short, blinking as if reality catches up with him. A faint crease appears between his brows as he looks at you, his head tilting slightly. The question in his eyes is if everything is okay, though he seemed too lost to put it into words.
“Ace, you don’t look okay.” Concern warms your features, plain in the way your eyes soften and refused to look away.
One corner of his mouth parted slightly, as though he was about to speak, then he just shrugs. “I’m fine. Just tired and I have a headache.” Bringing his fingers to his forehead he presses it hard. His head is killing him, at least for this he isn’t lying to you; only the part that he is fine.
A faint furrow appeared between your brows and your eyes lingered on him. Your lips press together in disapproval, as you slightly shake your head. “Look, I know that you didn’t want today to turn out like this, but if we’re going to do this together, we must be honest with each other.” Mentally, you tap yourself on the shoulder for finding the strength in you to say this out loud. You might be a bit calmer now, but still the situation is far from ‘calm’.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, trying his best to shut off all the thoughts running though his mind. He throws his hands up as he opens his eyes and looks at you. The gesture lacks any emotion; he is too tired to put any energy into it. “You’re right.” He lets go a deep exhale. “I did not want this,” he points with his eyes at your belly, “to go this way, but as I told you upstairs – we got this.” Running one hand over his messy raven black hair with a little pull on the roots, he reminds himself to stay grounded and not allow the anger he is starting to feel building up erupting on you. Seeing you slumping on the spot he is quick to add, “I just need some time to accept that this is happening, okay?”
Your fingers find a strand of hair and begin to tug at it. The old habit has lingered since childhood. It always resurfaces when you're overwhelmed and desperate to escape. Avoiding his gaze, you just nod. He probably hates you at this point, is the thought that runs into your mind, but you try your best to push it away. “I understand.” You quietly tell him, adverting your eyes from the pavement to the sky.
It’s been almost two hours since you two have been here. The sun is not settling yet, but its reflection is mirroring the buildings around you making the surroundings warmer, which is strange. You don’t feel warm, despite the hot weather and the warmer tones embracing you. You expect that once you make the choice that you wanted to make in the first place you will feel at ease, but how you felt two hours ago and how you feel now don’t feel much different. Now you have double the things to worry about, if not triple, but this is the choice you made and now you must endure everything that is to come.
A sudden call of your name and a gentle tug of your chin, Ace makes you look at him. “We’re both exhausted, aren’t we?” He offers you the most sincere smile he can pull from himself right now.
“How are you getting home?” You ask him, completely changing the subject, maybe for the better for both of your sakes.
“I have my bike over there.” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. Lifting on your tiptoe, you look over his shoulder to where he just pointed at. Your eyes land on a red motorbike, making your pupils grow twice their size, then you look back at him and let out a little puff of laughter, which makes him chuckle. “What?”
Shaking your head, you waved a hand in front of your face and let out a soft giggle, amused by your own reaction. “When you said bike, I though you meant bicycle at first, and then I saw what you meant by it,” eyeing him up and down you gesture with your hand at him, “and I don’t get why I got surprised at first.” Your shoulders bounced with silent laughter, cringing at your own naivety. “You and,” opening your mouth, you pause for a second, then simply flap your hands toward the bike, "that-"
Ace interrupts you fast, “Me and that?”, he nods with his chin at you as he crosses his arms pretending to be offended, but it is obvious that he is finding this more amusing than accusing of whatever you are about to throw at him.
“I-it just makes sense.” You wave your hands between him and the bike.
Looking between you and the bike, he hums thoughtfully. How is this making any sense? What do you mean by this? Tilting his head to look at you, he opens his mouth then he closes it. He is too tired to dig into this, but he does find it entertaining in a way that whatever connection you make between him and his bike has piqued his interest. “Okay, how about this,” he says, as he nods his head for you to follow him as he starts walking, “you get to tell me more about what sense me and my bike make later this week. How does this sound?”
Stopping next to your car, you are taken a bit by surprise to hear this. You don’t expect him to want to meet up so soon after today. In your mind, next time you would have probably meet is for the next ultrasound, if he even wants to be there. You are pleasantly surprised that he would like to spend some time getting to know each other.
Not getting any response from you, Ace cringes a bit at himself. Maybe, this comes out too pushy. Maybe you don’t want to spend time together to get to know each other and just meet when it is time for your ultrasound appointments, if you even want him there.
Both of you begin speaking at the same time and stop at the same time, sharing an awkward laugh.
“You first.” You tell him, but he shakes his head and gestures at you.
“No, you first.” You’re about to protest, but Ace stops you. “Please. Just say what you wanted to say.”
Drifting your eyes to the ground to hide the smile that blooms on your face, you clear your throat before speaking up. “I-I wanted to say, that I would loved if we…,” shrugging awkwardly, not knowing exactly how to say what you want to say, you focus your gaze on your shoes and the way you shift your weight on your heels back to your toes, swaying your body a bit, “if we… you know… get to know each other?” Your voice cracks a bit at the end. You pray he doesn’t interpret this in the wrong way. “Like, I would love to skip all the lawyers involvement and we just get to be friends and you know,” finding the courage you finally look up and meet his gaze, “we get to co-parent without a schedule dictated by some judge, and skip all that unnecessary stress for you, me and Dot.” Your hand slides gently onto the bottom of your stomach, creasing it gently.
His eyes follow the movement of your hand. The reminder of the life growing inside of you giving him chills down to his spine. “Yea, that’s good.” Squeezing the back of his neck with one hand, he slowly nods. “We’re on the same page for this. I’d loved to skip all that mess, too.”
This time you don’t hide your smile. “Nice. Perfect.” At least one of your worries is scratched from the long to do list you must complete in the months left until Dot’s arrival. You slide your handbag off your shoulder and rummage through it looking for your car keys. Once you find them you unlock your car and without expecting it, Ace beats you to it as he opens the door for you. You thank him and get into your car.
Ace leans with one hand on the open door and the other on the hood of the car, taking in the sight of you. Even with puffy eyes, and almost no makeup left from the tears you had cried earlier, he cannot deny that he still finds you undeniably beautiful. “This is just a plus for the kid.” He thinks to himself but quickly shakes the thought away. “So, how does Sunday sounds to you?”
“Sunday sounds great.”
“Cool.” Taping the roof of your car, he pushes away from it. “Drive safe. Text me when you’re home.”
“You, too.” You tell him before he shuts the door and makes his way to his bike. Follow him with your eyes, you take a deep breath in and out. This man is definitely something, but you are not entirely sure if he is something good or not. Only time will tell if the man who happens to be the father of your unborn child is what your gut feeling is telling you so far – a good man.
The apartment door opens with a bang and slams even harder, the sound echoing in the whole building. Pressing his back on the door, Ace takes a deep breath in, hand still on the doorknob. Even with all windows left open, the air feels heavy and not enough. His skin is on fire, and he can feel his sweat soaking on his T-shirt. Pushing himself from the door, he takes off the shirt with one shift move as he walks in further in the apartment.
Despite the outside noise, the space around him feels too quiet. Every sound feels magnified – the wind blowing from the windows which slightly moves the curtains, the faint noise that can usually be heard from the street below, the hum of the refrigerator, the neighbors’ steps from the apartment above, everything sounds too quiet right now. Everything but his own mind.
The muscle on his legs starts to ache as he paces back and forth, legs feeling heavier with every step he takes. Livingroom, to the open kitchen space that connects it, to the hallway, and back. Back and forth, back and forth. He cannot find his place. Every time he wants to stop and take a breath, he is afraid that if he stops, he will fall apart.
His heartbeat increased so much that it feels like it has no longer a steady rhythm, but a hammering presence beneath his chest. His hands tremble, obvious to his eyes as he raises them to run his fingers through his hair, which stuck to his face as the cold sweat has taken over his entire body. Pulling on his roots the unbearable headache he has doesn’t seem to go away but only get worse. His stomach feels hollow and heavy at the same time, twisting in a knot that seems to tighten with every breath he tries to take. His jaw hurts from clenching it so hard. Every attempt to unclench it seems to fail and he feels like soon he might end up in the emergency for a broken jaw, if it is even possible for a person to break their own jaw from clenching it too hard.
The apartment suddenly feels small. The hallway seems smaller than it was in the morning and the living room starts to narrow its walls every time he enters it. His chest seems too small for his body, as if something wants to crawl out of his ribs.
Trying everything possible to anchor himself, he leans on the kitchen counter, digging his fingers into the surface as his knuckles turn white. All the knowledge he has on how to calm a person during a panic attack seems to fade away from his mind. Then a thought hits him; is he having a panic attack? Him of all people having panic attack? No, this is impossible. He needs to just breathe. If he remembers how to.
Digging his fingernails deeper into the countertop, he once again tries to anchor himself. “Try to breathe, try not to think”, he keeps on reminding himself.
And for one suspended moment he does so. He just stays motionless. Eyes fixed on the kitchen cupboards. Breathing. Listening to the pulse roaring in his ears. Skin hotter than it has ever felt before. His eyes hurt. Everything suddenly hurts. A loud curse rips from the bottom of his soul as he swings his hand and knocks off a glass left on the countertop making it fall on the ground and breaking it into pieces.
The anger he felt earlier starts to flow freely now. Hot and violent. Loud. Anger feels right. Anger feels easier than whatever he is feeling right now. It is times easier to feel this way than admitting the thing he has dreaded since he was a teenager is about to come true, and he cannot do anything to prevent it.
He starts to pace again. Faster now. Kitchen. Livingroom. Hallway. Back and forth, back and forth. His pulse so increased that it slowly starts making him feel dizzy. His hands are shaking violently at this point. Dragging them through his hair once again as he grips the back of his neck.
Nothing is helping – counting to ten even to hundred, taking one breath in and holding it and then out, shaking his body, it doesn’t matter. Nothing helps easy his mind or steady his heart.
Finding himself next to the countertop in the kitchen once again, he strikes it with his fist. Pain shoots up his arms, but it is not enough of a relief. So, he strikes it again. And again. And again. Welcoming the pain with each hit. Somehow the pain makes it easier to focus on the painful realization that he of all people will be becoming a father. That realization itself crushes something in him.
The apartment seems to sway around him. Not enough for him to fall, but just enough for him to realize how exhausted he feels out of nowhere. A sharp pain burst in his head as if he was being struck with an arrow. Pressing the palm of his hand to his forehead as if this would help to ease the pain.
The anger that has been carrying him around suddenly doesn’t feel enough. Stagging a step, then another, his breaths come out in a harsh burst, each one scrapping his throat. His knees feel weak and unreliable, so he reaches for the countertop but misses. He just stays there for a moment with all the strength he has left, as his body swaying. The piercing silence returns once again, but this time it is even sharper, making his ears hurt. “It’s happening. I’m going to be a dad.” His own voice feels distant as if it is not even his.
Then finally his knees gave up. He collapses on the floor. The impact with the hard wooden floor jarred his body, but he barely feels it as everything goes black.
Something rough and wet scraps across his cheek. Once. Twice. Pause. Then again. It is insistent and annoying. His face twitches and eyebrows frown. Despite all his effort to open his eyes and find where this weird sensation is coming from, the darkness consuming him feels thick and heavy. Not only his eyes feel heavy, but so does his whole body as he attempts to lift his hand to at least push away that thing from his face, but he cannot find the strength to even move his fingers.
A very familiar sound follows. A loud, sharp, demanding meow pierced his ears, followed by another lick this time on his forehead.
Slowly his consciousness starts to surface. Not waking so much as drifting upwards from very deep dark water. Except for the constant licks that his face continues to receive, Ace starts to feel the rest of his body slowly waking up as well. The floor under him feels harder than ever as if it is made of nails. The back of his neck throbs with pain from being bent at an awkward angle for who knows how long. The pain finds him faster than his whole consciousness does.
Ace pries one eye open. The apartment ceiling swims into the view. Blurred. Too dark, the only light creeping in coming from the window. He squints immediately. What has happened? Did his narcolepsy kick in again? He swears he remembers the apparent brighter. How long has he been on the floor?
Opening his eyes again, the world around him comes out in a blur. A shadow moves above him. Then a fuzzy round face appears. Whiskers brushed his skin as big dark eyes stare directly into his. His sight slowly adjusts to the surroundings. Kotatsu meows again and licks the tip of Ace’s nose. “Ew!” His voice rasps like sandpaper as he turns his head to the other side. Kotatsu on the other hand, doesn’t feel offended at all by his owner’s reaction. Instead, he bumps his furry soft head on Ace’s cheek, gently caressing it.
Finally gaining some control over his body, Ace lifts his hand and pets the head of his beloved cat with the same gentleness Kotatsu handles him with.
His throat is raw. It feels like he has spent hours screaming. His mouth is too dry to even attempt to swallow the pain away. Kotatsu wet tongue finds Ace’s cheek once again and attacks him with more licks now when he knows that his human is awake. Ace has enough of it and tries to push the, not small at all, cat away, but his body jerks with pain.
He sucks in a breath. His ribs hurt. Not from any injury, but from strain. The muscles between them ache from fighting for air for so long. Even breathing too deeply now sends dull pain radiating through his chest. The awareness crept back into his body. His shoulder feels numb where it has been pressed against the hardwood floor. Pins and needles tingles down his arm. His lower back throbs. One knee ache where it has been twisted beneath him. Every muscle in his body felt heavy and overworked, as though he has run the longest marathon known in history. Sweat has long since cooled, adding a surprisingly nice feeling to his aching body, but he can also feel the stickiness of it.
Somewhere outside, a car horn blares then a siren wails probably a few streets away before it fades into the city noise. Someone laughs outside the apartment building. A dog barks. Ordinary sounds you might catch on at this time of the night. Yet the sounds seem distant. Muffled. Ace stares at the ceiling and listened.
For a brief moment, he couldn't remember why he is lying on the floor. The confusion feels almost peaceful. Then the reason why returns. Not gradually. All at once. The panic. The pacing. The realization. His biggest fear.
His stomach twists so violently he thinks he might be sick. His chest still aches. His head still pounds. Pain lingers in his neck, his shoulders, his ribs. But emotionally, he feels disconnected from all of it. Like his mind has exhausted itself and simply shut down. He should be devastated. He should be screaming, breaking things, even crying will be a valid reaction. Instead, he lays motionless on the floor, staring through the cracks in the ceiling paint.
Minutes pass. Maybe longer. He can’t tell how long he has been on the floor at this point it might have been hours. Time seems to have stopped meaning anything. The apartment feels strangely distant despite being wrapped around him.
Squeezing his eyes shut, a trembling breath escapes him. Kotatsu, sensing that something is clearly wrong with his owner, snuggles himself in the crook of his neck. A soft purring fills up Ace’s ear. Ignoring the ache in his body, Ace turns his body to the side and with shaky hand pulls the orange fluff ball in a strong grip next to his chest, snuggling with him. Kotatsu’s purring is the only thing that seems to anchor his mind and body, but it also seems to be the only thing that slowly makes him calm down. Placing a gentle kiss on top of his fluffy head, Ace snuggles him even harder.
“I fucked up, buddy.” Ace says, his voice barely reaching above a whisper. “You have no idea how much I fucked up.” He squeezes his eyes shut, only to open them and look down at Kotatsu who looks up at him with such interest in his big round eyes as if he wants to know about what Ace is talking about. “I-I… I-I’m… I’m going to be a…,” his chest tightens once again, the word reaches his throat and stick there. He has thought about it a thousand times in the past few days. Heard it whispering in the back of his mind, yet speaking it feels impossible. His mouth goes drier as if it is possible. "I-I’m going to be a father."
The sentence falls into the silence. He freezes for a moment then laughs. Not because he finds it funny or that he suddenly feels happy that the one thing he never wanted to be in life is turning into reality, but because saying it out loud doesn’t make any sense. Saying it out loud feels absurd, as if reality has made a mistake.
He repeats the words again. And again. And again. The words echo faintly through the apartment. He listens to the sound of it fading. Nothing happens. The ceiling doesn’t collapse. The world doesn’t stop turning. A car passes by outside. A pipe creaks somewhere in the building. Life continues.
And somehow this makes it worse. The words sound foreign to him, as though someone else has spoken them. He knows they are true yet hearing them aloud feels dreamlike like he is detached from reality. His mind keeps waiting for the sentence to become something impossible to ever be said out loud by him again.
“I’m not cut to be a father, you know?” Ace turns once again to Kotatsu, who hasn’t moved an inch away from the unusual coldness coming from his owner’s body. “Fuck, I don’t even take good care of you buddy!” A bitter chocked chuckles escapes him. “I made the choice to take care of you, you are practically my baby, yet I’m barely around. What about that kid I didn’t even plan to have in the first place? I’m going to be worse than my own father!” Another painful arrow strikes his heart as he continues to speak. “Fuck, I’m going to be worse than the fuckin’ Roger!” He stares ahead as he mentions his own father’s name. The man he has promised to never become like, yet he will probably be worse than him.
The words hang in the air, impossible and undeniable. He waits for something. Another wave of panic. More anger. Anything. Instead, there was only a very sad realisation and a hollow ache in his chest.
A quiet meow catches Ace’s attention, as Kotatsu starts to attack his naked chest with his wet kitten kisses. As if he is sympathizing with his sorrow but doesn’t know how to calm his favorite human.
A deep sign comes out in a shaky breath from Ace, almost like a sob. Then something tickles the corner of his eye. He raises one hand to his cheek, while with the other he still has Kotatsu in a strong protective hug.
His brows frown as his fingertips come away wet. For a moment, he simply stares at his fingers. He must have hit his head. Then he touches his cheek. A tear has followed the path of the first. Then another. He isn’t crying. At least, he doesn’t feel like he is. There is no sobbing. No lump in his throat. No overwhelming wave of emotion. Just tears slipping from his eyes.
The realization leaves him strangely unsettled. Crying felt foreign. Unnatural. He can’t remember the last time he cried. Not after a heartbreak or loss of a family member. Not after all the years spent swallowing every fear and hurt until they settle somewhere deep inside him. The last time he cried might have been when he was a child. Before he learned that tears solved nothing. Before he taught himself to hold everything in.
Yet here they are. Falling without permission. Falling because whatever walls he has built over the years had finally cracked beneath the weight of all of this.
Turning to lay on his back on the hard floor, Ace picks Kotatsu up and raises him up in the air. The streetlights, being the only source of light, lets him have a better look at his cat. “You know what buddy,” with tears still falling from his eyes, Ace sniffs before he continues, “I should’ve done that myself.” He nods at the back paws of his furry friend, where his ‘family jewels’ used to be before Ace had castrated him.
As if Kotatsu understood what his owner is referring to, he juggles his body around trying to escape Ace’s grip, but no success. “Easy, easy there.” Embracing the big fluff ball once again, Ace takes a deep breath before giving his cat one last kiss on the head before he lets him roam around the apartment freely. “You know you’re the best thing that has happened to me in life so far, right?” He softly calls after him and Kotatsu meows back as if to let Ace know that the feeling is mutual, before he disappears around the corner.
Ace follows him with his eyes before he is completely out of his sight. Adverting his eyes then to the ceiling he tries to collect himself as the tears build and blurry his vision. Pressing the pillows of his fingers to his temple, he attempts to gain his strength back and at least manage to get up from the floor, despite the pain in his body and unbearable headache. “Man up, you can’t allow yourself to whine like some bitch.” He scolds himself.
Bracing himself on his elbows, he pushes himself up from the floor. The moment he shifts his weight onto his hands; a sharp pain sparks through his right wrist. A harsh hiss escapes his lips as he jerks the hand back, cradling it against his chest. He hasn’t noticed the pain until now, “Perfect," he mutters under his breath, scowling at the throbbing joint.
As if waking up blacking out on the floor isn’t bad enough, he has somehow managed to fuck up his wrist when he was taking his anger out on the countertop. The pain pulsed with every slight movement, a constant reminder of his own carelessness.
Ace rolls his eyes and shakes his head, more irritated with himself than concerned about the injury he has caused himself. Taking a slow breath, he awkwardly pushes himself into a sitting position, being careful to keep the weight off his wrist. Another dull ache flared through his arm, earning a grimace. He rubs at his face with his free hand before finally lifting his gaze, looking around the apartment with a mixture of annoyance and growing unease.
It has to be hours since he blacked out, but the events before that are in a bit of a blur in his mind. The last thing he manages to remember is saying goodbye to you at the parking lot at the hospital, then some moments of him taking out all his rage on whatever was in front of his eyes at home. Thinking of you, he searches his pants in for his phone and thankfully he finds it in the front pocket, surprisingly in one piece.
His phone is almost dead, but he can’t bother to get to charge it now as he sees a couple of messages. Both from you and his brother Sabo. He goes through the ones sent by you first.
7:04PM You || Just got home. Let me know if you got home safe :)
8:24PM You || Did you get home?
8:26PM You || I just realize, you said you need some time… don’t feel obligated to text me back… won’t bother you again, just wanted to make sure you’re okay …
Followed by another message.
8:31PM You || I know you probably hate me for today… and I know I said that I won’t bother you again, but can you at least please seen my messages, so I know that you’re alive?
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ace squeezes his eyes as he curses himself. He is already fucking up. Looking at the time on the screen he wants to punch himself, as the last message is from fifteen minutes ago.
9:02PM You || Ace are you okay??? I’m genuinely worried about you! Pls, text me at least in the morning…
He tries to think of a good excuse, but nothing comes to his tired mind, so he quickly types in:
9:19PM Ace || I’m sorry. Had a very bad headache, fell asleep when I got home.
His message marks as ‘seen’ immediately after he sends it. A bubble that you’re typing appears on the screen, but he types faster:
9:21PM Ace || Don’t worry about me, okay? You shouldn’t stress urself :)
Your bubble disappears and then appears again. And then disappears again. This repeats a few times, when he finally receives a message from you.
9:24PM You || You’re allowed to be angry at me, you know that, right?
Yes, he knows this. He is more angry with himself than you, for better or worse. But also, he doesn’t have any energy to have this conversation with you right now, so he just sends a short answer message:
9:25PM Ace || Stop stressing! Gn :)
He doesn’t get any response from you, and he is not sure if he should take it as a good or bad sign, but he will be worrying about it tomorrow. All he wants to do now is take a cold shower and go straight to bed. After all he must wake up in less than five hours from now to go to work.
But before he gets up from the floor, he looks at the message his brother has sent him.
7:37PM Sabo || Should I start calling myself Uncle Sabo or..?
Reading this message alone is enough for Ace to throw the phone away, which thankfully lands on the couch. Sabo is ‘supposed’ to be the smartest of the bunch in their family, but sometimes Ace really asks himself which one of them is the dumbest. Given his current situation it is definitely him, but Sabo is not so far behind.
Ace stays sat for a moment, elbows resting on his knees as he waits for the last bits of dizziness to fade away. His chest still feels tight and head hurts, and he makes a mental note to himself to take a pill for the headache. He can’t comprehend that he has driven himself to unconsciousness. No matter how angry or lost he has felt before he has never blacked out, except from when his narcolepsy kicks in.
Slowly, he pushes himself on his feet. The room spins for a moment around him, causing him to take a quick pause, clearly lacking balance under his feet. Once he makes sure that floor won’t move under his feet, he makes his way towards the bathroom, desperate to wash away the sticky feeling of cold sweat off his body. On his way there, a glint of the kitchen floor catches his attention. The pieces of the broken glass that he has taken on his anger earlier are spread across the floor beside the countertop. He throws his head back and a loud weary sigh escapes him.
As much as he wants to ignore it and just take this much needed shower, he cannot risk Kotatsu stepping on the splinters and hurting himself. He crouches beside the countertop and starts to pick up the pieces in his hand. This sight makes him embarrassed and disgusted by himself. It is a proof of the version of himself he hates the most – the angry, hotheaded guy who acts on his impulses first and then, if ever, bothers to stop and think of the following consequences.
If hours ago, shattering the glass into million pieces brought him some kind of moment of relief and satisfaction, now is just a reminder of all the things he must take care of. The worst part is that he has no one to blame but himself for this behavior.
By the time he is done collecting every piece of it and making sure there is nothing left behind, he doesn’t feel any better or worse, but in his mind, there is one task less to worry about now.
With another sharp exhale he makes his way to the bathroom, longing for the hot water to hit his skin and hopefully ease his mind just a bit.
Stepping into the bathroom and flicking up the lights, Ace immediately squints as the brightness blinds him. Leaning over the sink, he opens the medicine cabinet and rummages through it in search for pain killers and hopefully some bandages because he has really fucked up his right hand.
His movement suddenly slowed down as he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looks terrible. His tanned skin has turned pale, his hair is a bigger mess than usual, dark circles are covering under his now bloodshot eyes. His whole face grimaces at the sight of him. For a moment he barely recognizes the face staring back at him.
Averting his gaze from his own reflection, he spots what he is looking for. He takes the painkillers bottle and shakes two pills in his palm, swallowing them dry. His reflection remains though; watching him with the same hallow and weary expression. Is this the face of a man that will be responsible for another life?
This thought follows him into the shower as he lets the steam of the boiling hot water embrace him and the water running on his body. He stands beneath the showerhead, eyes closed as he allows the heat to take over his aching body. Usually, a boiling hot shower like this one helps to wash off the bad days, but even this is not helping today. But there is no escape of today.
Ace lets himself absorb the noise of the running water as his mind screams loud once again. A father. The word is still so foreign to him. He rests his hand against the tiled wall and bows his head. His wet hair forms a small curtain around his face as if it would help to protect him from what is happening. He squeezes his eyes shut.
How can he become something that he never wanted to be in the first place? He has built his life so far with no intention of becoming a parent. How can he become a father, when his own was missing constantly from his life and he is far from the best example of being one to begin with.
Ace is not someone who thinks that he is, or will ever be, ready to guide another human through life or let alone raise them. Yes, everyone makes mistakes. Hell, he has made thousands of them in his life. And it isn’t the mistakes he is afraid of the kid might make one day. It is the fact that maybe, probably, one day his kid will look at him the same way Ace looks at Roger and hates the fact that they and him share the same blood… That they are made of his blood.
On top of it, Ace loves his freedom. He loves the fact that he is irresponsible and doesn’t care what tomorrow brings if he gets to live the way he wants to. He doesn’t want to be responsible for nobody but himself. And soon all of this will change. He can also name so many bad qualities about himself; he is impulse, he is a hothead, he is not patient, he has very low self-esteem despite everyone around him thinking quite the opposite. How is Ace supposed to be an ‘example’ for someone when he barely likes what he sees of himself?
How will he be able to look one day in his child’s eyes and know that he never wanted them in the first place? That instead of feeling joy and excitement, when their mother told him that she was pregnant with them, all he could feel at that moment was fear and denial. How can he look them in the eyes and tell them that if he had to make the choice they would have never been born…
A bitter laugh escapes him. That is what he loathes the most about this situation. He has no choice in it. The choice was entirely yours, and yes, you have put yourself first, but he wishes you didn’t choose this.
Of course, he could have been an asshole and talk you out of it, even threaten you, but despite how much he hates himself, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he had treated you like this. Plus, you kind of give him a choice. You have told him many times now that if he wants to, he can just ditch this responsibility, but Ace could never do this. The best quality he can say he has is that he never runs from anything (let alone such a big responsibility) but many might argue if this falls into the bad or good ‘quality’ category.
His thoughts are not getting any better or quieter. Hitting the tiles with his fist repeatedly, but not with force, he pushes away from the wall and turns off the water. The whole bathroom is dimmed by the steam, so when he gets out of the shower and wraps a towel around his hips, thankfully, the mirror over the sink is foggy so he doesn’t need to face his reflection.
Entering his bedroom, Ace doesn’t even bother to turn on the lights as the streetlights coming from the windows are enough to make his way around the room. The floor beneath him cracks as he stands in front of the wardrobe as he looks for a pair of basketball shorts to put on before hitting the bed. Finding what he is looking for, he unwraps the towel and lets it fall on the floor as he puts on the shorts. Before he closes the door, Kotatsu rushes into the room and jumps on the bed, making himself comfortable as he buries his body between the bed sheets. The way he snuggles himself in and turns into a big fluff ball makes Ace let out a short soft chuckle.
His body hits the softness of the bed. Spreading his limbs like he is being spread on a cross, Ace slowly blinks as he stares at the ceiling. Is he supposed to buy a crib soon and put it in the empty corner of the room? Or should he move out and move in to a new bigger apartment? Is that place supposed to be next to yours, so you have easier access to the baby when he is the one who takes care of it? How is he even going to take care of it? How are you two going to make it possible to begin with? Where do you even live? You two know nothing about each other… how are you going to make this work? How do you raise a child when you don’t even want one?
These questions don’t leave his mind. Turning his head to the side, he glances at the alarm clock on top of the nightstand next to the bed. It is already past midnight, and he starts work in four hours, yet despite how tired his body feels sleep doesn’t seem to find its way to him. Tuning and tossing around, trying to count sheep and trying to shut his thoughts, nothing helps and no sleeping position feels comfortable enough to fall asleep even for ten minutes.
Eventually his alarm buzzes at 3:00 am, though it doesn’t matter when he hasn’t even closed his eyes for a second and has been staring at the dark ceiling for hours consumed by his own thoughts. Hitting the snooze of the alarm, he slowly raises up and sits on the bed. His eyes feel raw and gritty, the awful feeling of being awake for so long, while his body aches with heavy exhaustion.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, with elbows resting on his knees, he looks over his shoulders at Kotatsu who has been sleeping and purring peacefully all night long. “Lucky bastard,” Ace thinks as he reaches to scratch the fluffballs head.
Work doesn’t care if he has slept or not, so he forces himself to get up. The cold floor bit at his bare feet as he crosses the room. He moves on to his morning routine by instinct alone. Shower, even though he already has taken one just a few hours ago, Ace feels like he needs another. Brushing his teeth. Getting dressed. Putting his favorite cologne on. Each action feels detached as if he is some machine controlled by somebody else, while his mind reminds on yesterday. When he catches his reflection in the mirror in the bathroom, he feels like he has aged double in the past twenty-four hours.
His gear bag rests on its usual spot, next to the bedroom door, so he swings it over his shoulder and makes his way to the front door, but before that he stops by Kotatsu’s automatic food feeder and refills it with enough food for the next forty-eight hours.
Outside, the air is cold and damp with the last hours reminding of the night. The streetlights cast pale pools of warm lights across the empty sidewalks as he walks to his motorbike. Most people are still asleep in the comfort of their homes as the city during these hours is usually quiet. Unlike the loud storm of thoughts his mind and soul are fighting.
The fire station kitchen is alive as always. Coffee cups clink against the countertop or some of the tables, chairs scraping across the floor as people move around all the time, and conversations overlapping with familiar voices. Some are talking about their favorite sport team loosing last night, others about the plans they have for the weekend or some funny story to keep up the mood up this early in the morning.
Ace just sits there, watching people pass by and hearing them talk, but his mind is separated from his body. He is being asked something or greeted by colleagues, then answering automatically, barely aware of what he even responses with. Usually, he is in the middle of all the jokes and keeping the station alive, but not today. And this doesn’t go unnoticed by his best friends here.
“I’ve never seen him like this.” Marco whispers to Thatch, who sits next to him as they both look with concern at their unusually quiet friend.
Ace dressed in his station clothes, just a plain black shirt and pants, sits across from them on the table, with a coffee cup wrapped around the palms of his hands, which he hasn’t bothered to even lift once to take a sip off. The circles under his eyes, and his hollow empty expression as if he has seen a ghost, aren’t hidden well even when someone passes by him and pats him on the shoulders and he gives them a very fake small smile to hide whatever is worrying him.
“He’s been stressed these past days, but whatever happened yesterday, must’ve been the cherry on the top.” Thatch says, his eyes glued to Ace who doesn’t seem to notice at all.
“Do you think it has to be something to do with the girl?” Marco emphasizes the last word as both him and Thatch remember your visit to the station a few days ago, and then the way Ace looked after he came back from the conversation you two had. Whatever that conversation was about it has taken a big tool on their young reckless friend.
The kitchen slowly starts to empty as most of the other firefighters go away to take care of the tasks that must be done for the day. Thatch and Marco take this as the perfect opportunity to finally ask their friend what is going on with him.
Marco snaps his fingers in front of Ace’s face a few times until he finally catches his attention. Even his face is slow with its reactions, as Ace barely lifts one eyebrow in question, looking at his friends confused. “What’s wrong with you Ace?”, Marco doesn’t waste any time and shoots the question straight away, “And don’t you dare say that you’re ‘fine’-”, he makes silent quotations in the air with his fingers, “because you obviously are far away from fine.”
“Marco is right man.” Thatch chimps in. “Since you’ve came back that day after she visited you’ve been distant.”
Ace just looks at them at first then averts his gaze away from them. Too tired, too scared and too ashamed to say out loud what is bothering him. This doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Come on, Ace.” Marco’s brows frown with concern as he can’t help but worry even more now. “You know, I see you as a part of my family and so is Thatch, so whatever it is we’ll be here for you.” Reaching over the table, he grabs Ace’s wrist and gives it a little squeeze to show that they got him no matter what, but Ace whines in pain, instinctively pulling away his arm. He has really hurt it but couldn’t find anything at home to fix it with.
“What’s wrong with your wrist?” Thatch nods his chin towards Ace’s arm.
“Hurt it last night.” Ace finally speaks up. His voice hoars. “I actually need to bandage it.” Still avoiding his friends gazes he gets up from the chair to escape, but both call after him.
“Just tell us what’s going on Ace!” Marco lifts his hands in the air in surrender. “Whatever is we won’t judge.”
Won’t they? Why wouldn’t? He judges himself for it, why wouldn’t the people who know him, wouldn’t? Does telling them fixing all this mess? No! But does not telling them help either? No, it doesn’t.
Clenching his fists he throws his head back and takes a deep breath, then turns and sits back on the chair. His mouth opens and closes a few times. The words just can’t find their way out. Thankfully, both Marco and Thatch are patient enough with him to give him the time he needs to let it out.
“She’s pregnant.” He blurs out the words in one breath. Both men sitting across from him just stare and slowly blink at him, the confusion on their faces turning into surprise. Ace slowly nods, as if to confirm that they heard him correctly.
Marco is first to dare speaking, “So… is it safe to guess that given your current state she’s keeping it?” Ace nods again, not having the strength to say it out loud.
“Ace, are you sure you’re the father?” Thatch jumps in with the question that Marco was about to ask himself. “Have you run a paternity test? After all you just slept once with her and then she just ran away.”
Marco nods his head a few times, agreeing with everything said by Thatch. “He’s right, Ace. Do you know if the kid’s yours for sure?”
Ace looks around and gestures at them to keep their voices low. Last thing he wants or needs is the rest of the fire station to know about his situation. “She said she’s only slept with me.”
“And you believe her?” Thatch loudly exclaims as he cannot believe how naïve his friend can be. Ace, on the other hand, shoots him another warning look. Not for what he is assuming, but for being loud.
“Yes, as stupid as it sounds, I do.” Running one hand over his face, he grabs a hold of his thick black hair and hides his head leaning on his forearms on the table. Propping his chin on his forearm, he just shrugs. “I know how ridiculous it sounds but believe me this girl has no reasons to lie about me being the one who knocked her up.”
“Why’s that?” Marco raises his one brow with curiosity.
“Her family is filthy rich. Do you think she has anything to gain from being knocked up by some guy like me?” A bitter chuckle escapes Ace’s lips.
No one is saying anything. They all let the noise from the outside consume the space as nothing seems right to be said. Both Marco and Thatch know about Ace’s past, and why he has never wanted a family of his own, so they can only imagine what is going on inside his mind now when his biggest nightmare is becoming a reality.
Ace can’t take more of this, and he doesn’t want to speak further on this matter, let alone look at the pity written on his friends’ faces, so he gets up from the chair. The loud screeching of its legs on the floor almost hurts the ears. “I’m going to find some bandage.” He lifts his right hand, pointing with his eyes at his wrist, before leaving the kitchen and his friends behind without saying anything more and making it clear that he wants to be left alone.
Marco and Thatch sit in silence and neither of them moves. The news has literally left them speechless. Neither of them knows what to do or say to Ace to make him feel better. It will take time for him to get used to the idea and let alone accept it, but both know one thing for sure; Ace would make an amazing father despite what he thinks of himself.
Marco is the first one to move, as he searches for something in his pants. Thatch side-eyes him when he notices Marco pulling his wallet up and handling him a fifty-paper bill. The realization of why his friend does this comes to his mind quickly as he takes the money. “This is the first time ever I cannot enjoy winning a bet.” He murmurs as he puts in his pocket.
“Mine guess wasn’t any better but knowing Ace he would have definitely preferred std’s over a baby.” Marco lets out a deep sigh as he pushes himself up and lets out a bitter chuckle. “Betting fifty on the gender of the baby?” He reaches with his thumb to Thatch.
“I say boy.” Thatch swipes the tip of his thumb with Marcos. “It’ll be his karma for being a menace as a kid.” “I say girl.” Marco can’t stop the laughter erupting from him. “I think that will be even more terrifying for him.”
END NOTE: Once again, thank you all for your patience and I'm really sorry I haven't updated the story for 6 months... I'll try my best to update at least every two weeks, but this really depends on the schedule in my personal life.
This chapter turned out very Ace focused, but I'm quite happy with it. I hope you liked it and I managed to make you feel what Ace felt at least a little bit, hihi. I can't wait to write more about him and reader and how their relationship will develop with time. This is one of the last "sad-ish" parts for now, from now on expect a lot of awkward and cringe moments between those two and very bad humour.
As always every like, comment, reblog or message you send me means the world to me, so always feel free to share how you felt about the chapters you read ♡
Love you all and take care ♡
Summary: One reckless night leads to the biggest and most unexpected change in your life. How will this affect your current life and how you and the charming stranger you met only once will manage to handle the bringing of a new life to this world together is a challenge yet to be discovered. Will you be able to make the right choices while battling your own demons? Who knows, all you must be worried about now is that your period is late...
Description: Modern AU | Firefighter Baby Daddy!Ace
WARNINGS: english is not my first language, explicit language, NSFW, 18+ only, contains explicit sexual themes and content, use of alcohol, slow burn, conflicted feelings, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, jealousy, suggestive themes, previous toxic relationships, mention of depression, mention/description of pregnancy, strangers to co-parents to lovers, mentions of a lot of anxiety, mentions of cheating, mentions of mental trauma, social anxiety (+ more warnings will be added if needed to)
Additional tags: Reader is super awkward and has social anxiety and low-self esteem but this changes (I don't want to spoil), Ace is emotional invalid when it comes to love, but this also changes (no spoilers)
WORD COUNT: 10,6K
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NOTE: Thank you all for your patience with me, I don't deserve you ♡ This chapter turned out way longer than I thought it would, I litrally thought that it won't be more than 12 pages max, but then it turned out to be 21 pages at the end. I really hope you like it, more yapp in the end note - Enjoy ♡
“You’re a hundred percent sure this is what you want?” Doctor Belladona asks you, but side-glances at Ace, who seems lost in his own thought standing at the corner of the room next to the door, before she looks back at you. You confidently nod, no doubt in your mind that this is what you want. “Let’s get you checked then and talk about what’s to come next.” She gestures with her hand for you to go and lay on the examination bed. “Ace.” She turns to him, but he doesn’t response to her. She calls him once again, but this time it is a bit louder, catching both of your attention.
He shakes his head and bilks twice before he looks at her, giving her a nod that he is paying attention to what she is saying now. “You can take a seat next to her.” A warm smile spreads across her face as she points to the chair next to the bed.
Ace glances at the chair and once again doesn’t say anything as he just nods and makes his way to sit. You follow him carefully with your eyes. He doesn’t seem well. His skin looks a bit pale, and you can see his left eyebrow twitching a bit. You are sure he is going through something in his head but won’t show it or say anything in front of you, probably because he doesn’t want you to worry about him. He is about to sit when you stop him as you reach over and grab his hand.
“Could we just have a minute, please?” Turning to your doctor, you give her an apologetic look, but as always, she is understanding and just leaves the room. The moment you two are left alone you pat the bed, inviting Ace to sit next to you. He sits next to you without protesting and gives you a questioning look.
“Are you okay?” You tilt your head to the side, studying his face carefully.
“All good.” He shrugs, his voice not convincing at all.
“Bull.” You bitterly chuckle.
The corner of his lip lifts for a smile, but he can barely hold it for a second. “I’m not.”
Bobbing your head, you are a bit surprised that he actually admits it. “Yes, I can tell you’re not okay.” You tell him, but he is quick to correct you.
“No, I meant I’m not bullshiting you.”
A deep sigh leaves your lips. “Ace, you don’t need to do this.”
Now he is the one who takes a deep inhale and then exhale. “How many times I have to tell you that I’ll do this.” He clenches his jaw as he tries to keep his nerves under control. This doesn’t go unnoticed by you.
“I mean you don’t need to be here right now if you don’t want to.” You hesitate for a second before placing your hand on his thigh close to his knee and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’ve done it twice alone already.” Your eyes lock with him. “I can do it again.” Even though you would prefer to do it with him this time, you can’t allow yourself to tell him this. Part of you is still feeling guilty for choosing yourself and what you want over what he wants.
Ace slowly nods. “You sure about that?” His eyes narrow, his hand now placed on top of yours on his knee; for the little time you two have spent together he has already learned that you tend to put others first even if you don’t feel like it.
The fake smile you have mastered over the years makes its way on your face as fast as you blink followed by a small nod, like that would settle it. Pulling your hand away, you wave it as it will be nothing new for you to go through. “I got this.” You reassure him once again, glancing away from him as you try to swallow the heaviness that settles in your chest for a moment. After all this is the answer you expect from him, yet you wish he has chosen to stay.
He leans closer and you feel his hot breath glazing the skin between your neck and ear, causing goosebumps to run up and down your spine as he speaks. “I hope you’ve enjoyed those two appointments alone,” turning your head to face him, you freeze for a second because of how close you are to each other, your noses just millimeters from touching, “because from now on, you have to do them with me by your side.” Ace winks at you as he pulls away and holds out his fist.
Your knuckles meet in a quiet fist bump, but neither of you moves right away. This brief touch lingered for a bit longer than it is intended to, with your fists still in the air as both of you stare at the way your knuckles fit perfectly, but the shared touch brings some kind of strange comfort to both of you. It is almost like you just made a pact – that from now on you have each other and that is all this is about, and this thought alone terrifies you; because for whatever reason, being around Ace gives you this calmness of feeling safe, something that you haven’t experienced in a long time, let alone with a man.
The moment is interrupted by doctor Belladona as she enters the room again, startling both of you a bit and pulling away from each other as if you have been caught doing something you shouldn’t do. “Are you ready to start?” She asks with a smile on her face. Both of you give her a short nod, as Ace gets up and takes a seat on the chair next to the examination bed, and you lay down lifting your shirt up reviling your belly.
His eyes immediately fell on it. The bump there is still invisible, after all you are still too early in the pregnancy, but him knowing that there is something growing inside of you that he caused in the first place scares the soul out of him. This all feels like a very bad dream, a nightmare even, but even when he digs his fingers into his arm, hard enough to make his skin sting and bloom red beneath his nails, the world around him doesn’t waver, and he cannot wake up. This is all real and his biggest fear is becoming a reality. On the background he can hear yours and the doctor’s voices but everything around him feels way too disconnected at the moment.
It takes all the energy he has within himself to move his gaze away from your belly and look at the ultrasound screen on the other side of the bed. His eyes focus on the small dot on the screen. It looks a bit bigger than the first time he seen it. Yet nothing from the inside of him seems to react in a positive way. He is sure that many men in his place would be jumping up to the ceiling or cry happy tears, but all Ace can see is the consequences of one reckless night.
His eyes slowly move from the screen to your face. Your eyes are a still puffy from earlier, but now there is not an ounce of sadness in them. You look contented. The soft smile placed on your lips seems genuinely sincere it even reaches the corners of your eyes. This smile is nothing compared to the ones he has seen before on you. He does wish that he could share the same emotions that you are currently feeling, but he just cannot. All he could feel right now is undeniable dread for what is to come in less than eight months from now.
“It’s a very healthy baby, this is one thing I can assure you both.” Doctor Belladona tells you with a smile. “But don’t skip the pills I’ve prescribed you ever again.” Her tone turns serious with a warning look on her face as she hands you some paper to wipe yourself from the gel.
“I won’t.” You nod as you are taking the paper from her and softly wiping away the cold gel off your belly.
“You two want a picture of the ultrasound?” She looks at you and then Ace. You turn your head to the side to check with him and he just shrugs.
“I guess yes.” He murmurs. Last thing he wants is a reminder of this, but he needs to get used to it.
You want to tell him that he doesn’t need to have one, but you chose to keep this to yourself and not speak about it in front of your doctor. “Yes, we would like to have some.” You turn back to her, and she nods and goes to press something on the machine that quickly prints two pictures of the ultrasound.
She looks at the pictures before she hands them to you. “Last time it was the size of a pea, now at week nine is around the size of a grape.” Taking the pictures in your hand, your heartbeat fastens a bit. “They grow fast, but do not worry. You should not start showing until the second trimester.”
Your head snaps toward her, and you quickly sit upright, convinced you must have misheard. “Wait, what?” Your eyes widen in pure shock. “B-but this is in like four weeks.”
Doctor Belladonna couldn’t contain her laughter as she gently pats your shoulder. “Don’t worry, you won’t just wake up one day and have huge belly, but around the fifth month of the pregnancy you will slowly start showing.” Her words clearly don’t ease your worry that has entered your mind just now. “Look, it is different from woman to woman. You might even start showing at the end of it, but even so if you plan to hide from friends and family usually most women fail around the end of the fifth month.”
And just when you think that you can enjoy a few weeks of not stressing yourself with the situation around your pregnancy, the realization of having to tell your parents way sooner than you have planned hits you like a truck. You are not ready to face them with the news at all. Knowing your parents they will lose their minds over the fact that you randomly got knocked up and then you decided to keep it, will definitely leads to an extremely big and unpleasant argument.
Not understanding the reasons for your sudden change, doctor Belladonna reassures you once again. “Don’t worry about your body now. It will bounce back fast to what it was before the pregnancy before you know it.”
Wanting to change the subject, so you can forget about this worry for now, you clean your throat and turn to your doctor once again. “When is my next appointment?”
“Until week twenty-eight, it’s every four weeks. My assistant will email you the date and time of your next appointment.” She tilts her head slightly toward Ace. “Is he okay?”
You glance over your shoulder. Ace is still frozen in place, as if he hasn’t moved an inch. “He just needs some time,” you say softly, your eyes lingering on him. “Thank you again.” You reach out for a handshake with your doctor. “See you in four weeks.”
Scanning the room, you spot your handbag and pick it up before stepping in front of Ace and calling his name gently. He blinks once, then twice and finally looks up at you. “We can go now.”
He doesn’t say anything as he gets up and follows after you. His body is on an autopilot, while his mind is on the run.
Walking out of the hospital, you look back at him, and his state hasn’t changed one bit. “What have I done…” You murmur under your breath as you shift to face him. You suddenly stop on your track causing him almost bumping into you.
He stops short, blinking as if reality catches up with him. A faint crease appears between his brows as he looks at you, his head tilting slightly. The question in his eyes is if everything is okay, though he seemed too lost to put it into words.
“Ace, you don’t look okay.” Concern warms your features, plain in the way your eyes soften and refused to look away.
One corner of his mouth parted slightly, as though he was about to speak, then he just shrugs. “I’m fine. Just tired and I have a headache.” Bringing his fingers to his forehead he presses it hard. His head is killing him, at least for this he isn’t lying to you; only the part that he is fine.
A faint furrow appeared between your brows and your eyes lingered on him. Your lips press together in disapproval, as you slightly shake your head. “Look, I know that you didn’t want today to turn out like this, but if we’re going to do this together, we must be honest with each other.” Mentally, you tap yourself on the shoulder for finding the strength in you to say this out loud. You might be a bit calmer now, but still the situation is far from ‘calm’.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, trying his best to shut off all the thoughts running though his mind. He throws his hands up as he opens his eyes and looks at you. The gesture lacks any emotion; he is too tired to put any energy into it. “You’re right.” He lets go a deep exhale. “I did not want this,” he points with his eyes at your belly, “to go this way, but as I told you upstairs – we got this.” Running one hand over his messy raven black hair with a little pull on the roots, he reminds himself to stay grounded and not allow the anger he is starting to feel building up erupting on you. Seeing you slumping on the spot he is quick to add, “I just need some time to accept that this is happening, okay?”
Your fingers find a strand of hair and begin to tug at it. The old habit has lingered since childhood. It always resurfaces when you're overwhelmed and desperate to escape. Avoiding his gaze, you just nod. He probably hates you at this point, is the thought that runs into your mind, but you try your best to push it away. “I understand.” You quietly tell him, adverting your eyes from the pavement to the sky.
It’s been almost two hours since you two have been here. The sun is not settling yet, but its reflection is mirroring the buildings around you making the surroundings warmer, which is strange. You don’t feel warm, despite the hot weather and the warmer tones embracing you. You expect that once you make the choice that you wanted to make in the first place you will feel at ease, but how you felt two hours ago and how you feel now don’t feel much different. Now you have double the things to worry about, if not triple, but this is the choice you made and now you must endure everything that is to come.
A sudden call of your name and a gentle tug of your chin, Ace makes you look at him. “We’re both exhausted, aren’t we?” He offers you the most sincere smile he can pull from himself right now.
“How are you getting home?” You ask him, completely changing the subject, maybe for the better for both of your sakes.
“I have my bike over there.” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. Lifting on your tiptoe, you look over his shoulder to where he just pointed at. Your eyes land on a red motorbike, making your pupils grow twice their size, then you look back at him and let out a little puff of laughter, which makes him chuckle. “What?”
Shaking your head, you waved a hand in front of your face and let out a soft giggle, amused by your own reaction. “When you said bike, I though you meant bicycle at first, and then I saw what you meant by it,” eyeing him up and down you gesture with your hand at him, “and I don’t get why I got surprised at first.” Your shoulders bounced with silent laughter, cringing at your own naivety. “You and,” opening your mouth, you pause for a second, then simply flap your hands toward the bike, "that-"
Ace interrupts you fast, “Me and that?”, he nods with his chin at you as he crosses his arms pretending to be offended, but it is obvious that he is finding this more amusing than accusing of whatever you are about to throw at him.
“I-it just makes sense.” You wave your hands between him and the bike.
Looking between you and the bike, he hums thoughtfully. How is this making any sense? What do you mean by this? Tilting his head to look at you, he opens his mouth then he closes it. He is too tired to dig into this, but he does find it entertaining in a way that whatever connection you make between him and his bike has piqued his interest. “Okay, how about this,” he says, as he nods his head for you to follow him as he starts walking, “you get to tell me more about what sense me and my bike make later this week. How does this sound?”
Stopping next to your car, you are taken a bit by surprise to hear this. You don’t expect him to want to meet up so soon after today. In your mind, next time you would have probably meet is for the next ultrasound, if he even wants to be there. You are pleasantly surprised that he would like to spend some time getting to know each other.
Not getting any response from you, Ace cringes a bit at himself. Maybe, this comes out too pushy. Maybe you don’t want to spend time together to get to know each other and just meet when it is time for your ultrasound appointments, if you even want him there.
Both of you begin speaking at the same time and stop at the same time, sharing an awkward laugh.
“You first.” You tell him, but he shakes his head and gestures at you.
“No, you first.” You’re about to protest, but Ace stops you. “Please. Just say what you wanted to say.”
Drifting your eyes to the ground to hide the smile that blooms on your face, you clear your throat before speaking up. “I-I wanted to say, that I would loved if we…,” shrugging awkwardly, not knowing exactly how to say what you want to say, you focus your gaze on your shoes and the way you shift your weight on your heels back to your toes, swaying your body a bit, “if we… you know… get to know each other?” Your voice cracks a bit at the end. You pray he doesn’t interpret this in the wrong way. “Like, I would love to skip all the lawyers involvement and we just get to be friends and you know,” finding the courage you finally look up and meet his gaze, “we get to co-parent without a schedule dictated by some judge, and skip all that unnecessary stress for you, me and Dot.” Your hand slides gently onto the bottom of your stomach, creasing it gently.
His eyes follow the movement of your hand. The reminder of the life growing inside of you giving him chills down to his spine. “Yea, that’s good.” Squeezing the back of his neck with one hand, he slowly nods. “We’re on the same page for this. I’d loved to skip all that mess, too.”
This time you don’t hide your smile. “Nice. Perfect.” At least one of your worries is scratched from the long to do list you must complete in the months left until Dot’s arrival. You slide your handbag off your shoulder and rummage through it looking for your car keys. Once you find them you unlock your car and without expecting it, Ace beats you to it as he opens the door for you. You thank him and get into your car.
Ace leans with one hand on the open door and the other on the hood of the car, taking in the sight of you. Even with puffy eyes, and almost no makeup left from the tears you had cried earlier, he cannot deny that he still finds you undeniably beautiful. “This is just a plus for the kid.” He thinks to himself but quickly shakes the thought away. “So, how does Sunday sounds to you?”
“Sunday sounds great.”
“Cool.” Taping the roof of your car, he pushes away from it. “Drive safe. Text me when you’re home.”
“You, too.” You tell him before he shuts the door and makes his way to his bike. Follow him with your eyes, you take a deep breath in and out. This man is definitely something, but you are not entirely sure if he is something good or not. Only time will tell if the man who happens to be the father of your unborn child is what your gut feeling is telling you so far – a good man.
The apartment door opens with a bang and slams even harder, the sound echoing in the whole building. Pressing his back on the door, Ace takes a deep breath in, hand still on the doorknob. Even with all windows left open, the air feels heavy and not enough. His skin is on fire, and he can feel his sweat soaking on his T-shirt. Pushing himself from the door, he takes off the shirt with one shift move as he walks in further in the apartment.
Despite the outside noise, the space around him feels too quiet. Every sound feels magnified – the wind blowing from the windows which slightly moves the curtains, the faint noise that can usually be heard from the street below, the hum of the refrigerator, the neighbors’ steps from the apartment above, everything sounds too quiet right now. Everything but his own mind.
The muscle on his legs starts to ache as he paces back and forth, legs feeling heavier with every step he takes. Livingroom, to the open kitchen space that connects it, to the hallway, and back. Back and forth, back and forth. He cannot find his place. Every time he wants to stop and take a breath, he is afraid that if he stops, he will fall apart.
His heartbeat increased so much that it feels like it has no longer a steady rhythm, but a hammering presence beneath his chest. His hands tremble, obvious to his eyes as he raises them to run his fingers through his hair, which stuck to his face as the cold sweat has taken over his entire body. Pulling on his roots the unbearable headache he has doesn’t seem to go away but only get worse. His stomach feels hollow and heavy at the same time, twisting in a knot that seems to tighten with every breath he tries to take. His jaw hurts from clenching it so hard. Every attempt to unclench it seems to fail and he feels like soon he might end up in the emergency for a broken jaw, if it is even possible for a person to break their own jaw from clenching it too hard.
The apartment suddenly feels small. The hallway seems smaller than it was in the morning and the living room starts to narrow its walls every time he enters it. His chest seems too small for his body, as if something wants to crawl out of his ribs.
Trying everything possible to anchor himself, he leans on the kitchen counter, digging his fingers into the surface as his knuckles turn white. All the knowledge he has on how to calm a person during a panic attack seems to fade away from his mind. Then a thought hits him; is he having a panic attack? Him of all people having panic attack? No, this is impossible. He needs to just breathe. If he remembers how to.
Digging his fingernails deeper into the countertop, he once again tries to anchor himself. “Try to breathe, try not to think”, he keeps on reminding himself.
And for one suspended moment he does so. He just stays motionless. Eyes fixed on the kitchen cupboards. Breathing. Listening to the pulse roaring in his ears. Skin hotter than it has ever felt before. His eyes hurt. Everything suddenly hurts. A loud curse rips from the bottom of his soul as he swings his hand and knocks off a glass left on the countertop making it fall on the ground and breaking it into pieces.
The anger he felt earlier starts to flow freely now. Hot and violent. Loud. Anger feels right. Anger feels easier than whatever he is feeling right now. It is times easier to feel this way than admitting the thing he has dreaded since he was a teenager is about to come true, and he cannot do anything to prevent it.
He starts to pace again. Faster now. Kitchen. Livingroom. Hallway. Back and forth, back and forth. His pulse so increased that it slowly starts making him feel dizzy. His hands are shaking violently at this point. Dragging them through his hair once again as he grips the back of his neck.
Nothing is helping – counting to ten even to hundred, taking one breath in and holding it and then out, shaking his body, it doesn’t matter. Nothing helps easy his mind or steady his heart.
Finding himself next to the countertop in the kitchen once again, he strikes it with his fist. Pain shoots up his arms, but it is not enough of a relief. So, he strikes it again. And again. And again. Welcoming the pain with each hit. Somehow the pain makes it easier to focus on the painful realization that he of all people will be becoming a father. That realization itself crushes something in him.
The apartment seems to sway around him. Not enough for him to fall, but just enough for him to realize how exhausted he feels out of nowhere. A sharp pain burst in his head as if he was being struck with an arrow. Pressing the palm of his hand to his forehead as if this would help to ease the pain.
The anger that has been carrying him around suddenly doesn’t feel enough. Stagging a step, then another, his breaths come out in a harsh burst, each one scrapping his throat. His knees feel weak and unreliable, so he reaches for the countertop but misses. He just stays there for a moment with all the strength he has left, as his body swaying. The piercing silence returns once again, but this time it is even sharper, making his ears hurt. “It’s happening. I’m going to be a dad.” His own voice feels distant as if it is not even his.
Then finally his knees gave up. He collapses on the floor. The impact with the hard wooden floor jarred his body, but he barely feels it as everything goes black.
Something rough and wet scraps across his cheek. Once. Twice. Pause. Then again. It is insistent and annoying. His face twitches and eyebrows frown. Despite all his effort to open his eyes and find where this weird sensation is coming from, the darkness consuming him feels thick and heavy. Not only his eyes feel heavy, but so does his whole body as he attempts to lift his hand to at least push away that thing from his face, but he cannot find the strength to even move his fingers.
A very familiar sound follows. A loud, sharp, demanding meow pierced his ears, followed by another lick this time on his forehead.
Slowly his consciousness starts to surface. Not waking so much as drifting upwards from very deep dark water. Except for the constant licks that his face continues to receive, Ace starts to feel the rest of his body slowly waking up as well. The floor under him feels harder than ever as if it is made of nails. The back of his neck throbs with pain from being bent at an awkward angle for who knows how long. The pain finds him faster than his whole consciousness does.
Ace pries one eye open. The apartment ceiling swims into the view. Blurred. Too dark, the only light creeping in coming from the window. He squints immediately. What has happened? Did his narcolepsy kick in again? He swears he remembers the apparent brighter. How long has he been on the floor?
Opening his eyes again, the world around him comes out in a blur. A shadow moves above him. Then a fuzzy round face appears. Whiskers brushed his skin as big dark eyes stare directly into his. His sight slowly adjusts to the surroundings. Kotatsu meows again and licks the tip of Ace’s nose. “Ew!” His voice rasps like sandpaper as he turns his head to the other side. Kotatsu on the other hand, doesn’t feel offended at all by his owner’s reaction. Instead, he bumps his furry soft head on Ace’s cheek, gently caressing it.
Finally gaining some control over his body, Ace lifts his hand and pets the head of his beloved cat with the same gentleness Kotatsu handles him with.
His throat is raw. It feels like he has spent hours screaming. His mouth is too dry to even attempt to swallow the pain away. Kotatsu wet tongue finds Ace’s cheek once again and attacks him with more licks now when he knows that his human is awake. Ace has enough of it and tries to push the, not small at all, cat away, but his body jerks with pain.
He sucks in a breath. His ribs hurt. Not from any injury, but from strain. The muscles between them ache from fighting for air for so long. Even breathing too deeply now sends dull pain radiating through his chest. The awareness crept back into his body. His shoulder feels numb where it has been pressed against the hardwood floor. Pins and needles tingles down his arm. His lower back throbs. One knee ache where it has been twisted beneath him. Every muscle in his body felt heavy and overworked, as though he has run the longest marathon known in history. Sweat has long since cooled, adding a surprisingly nice feeling to his aching body, but he can also feel the stickiness of it.
Somewhere outside, a car horn blares then a siren wails probably a few streets away before it fades into the city noise. Someone laughs outside the apartment building. A dog barks. Ordinary sounds you might catch on at this time of the night. Yet the sounds seem distant. Muffled. Ace stares at the ceiling and listened.
For a brief moment, he couldn't remember why he is lying on the floor. The confusion feels almost peaceful. Then the reason why returns. Not gradually. All at once. The panic. The pacing. The realization. His biggest fear.
His stomach twists so violently he thinks he might be sick. His chest still aches. His head still pounds. Pain lingers in his neck, his shoulders, his ribs. But emotionally, he feels disconnected from all of it. Like his mind has exhausted itself and simply shut down. He should be devastated. He should be screaming, breaking things, even crying will be a valid reaction. Instead, he lays motionless on the floor, staring through the cracks in the ceiling paint.
Minutes pass. Maybe longer. He can’t tell how long he has been on the floor at this point it might have been hours. Time seems to have stopped meaning anything. The apartment feels strangely distant despite being wrapped around him.
Squeezing his eyes shut, a trembling breath escapes him. Kotatsu, sensing that something is clearly wrong with his owner, snuggles himself in the crook of his neck. A soft purring fills up Ace’s ear. Ignoring the ache in his body, Ace turns his body to the side and with shaky hand pulls the orange fluff ball in a strong grip next to his chest, snuggling with him. Kotatsu’s purring is the only thing that seems to anchor his mind and body, but it also seems to be the only thing that slowly makes him calm down. Placing a gentle kiss on top of his fluffy head, Ace snuggles him even harder.
“I fucked up, buddy.” Ace says, his voice barely reaching above a whisper. “You have no idea how much I fucked up.” He squeezes his eyes shut, only to open them and look down at Kotatsu who looks up at him with such interest in his big round eyes as if he wants to know about what Ace is talking about. “I-I… I-I’m… I’m going to be a…,” his chest tightens once again, the word reaches his throat and stick there. He has thought about it a thousand times in the past few days. Heard it whispering in the back of his mind, yet speaking it feels impossible. His mouth goes drier as if it is possible. "I-I’m going to be a father."
The sentence falls into the silence. He freezes for a moment then laughs. Not because he finds it funny or that he suddenly feels happy that the one thing he never wanted to be in life is turning into reality, but because saying it out loud doesn’t make any sense. Saying it out loud feels absurd, as if reality has made a mistake.
He repeats the words again. And again. And again. The words echo faintly through the apartment. He listens to the sound of it fading. Nothing happens. The ceiling doesn’t collapse. The world doesn’t stop turning. A car passes by outside. A pipe creaks somewhere in the building. Life continues.
And somehow this makes it worse. The words sound foreign to him, as though someone else has spoken them. He knows they are true yet hearing them aloud feels dreamlike like he is detached from reality. His mind keeps waiting for the sentence to become something impossible to ever be said out loud by him again.
“I’m not cut to be a father, you know?” Ace turns once again to Kotatsu, who hasn’t moved an inch away from the unusual coldness coming from his owner’s body. “Fuck, I don’t even take good care of you buddy!” A bitter chocked chuckles escapes him. “I made the choice to take care of you, you are practically my baby, yet I’m barely around. What about that kid I didn’t even plan to have in the first place? I’m going to be worse than my own father!” Another painful arrow strikes his heart as he continues to speak. “Fuck, I’m going to be worse than the fuckin’ Roger!” He stares ahead as he mentions his own father’s name. The man he has promised to never become like, yet he will probably be worse than him.
The words hang in the air, impossible and undeniable. He waits for something. Another wave of panic. More anger. Anything. Instead, there was only a very sad realisation and a hollow ache in his chest.
A quiet meow catches Ace’s attention, as Kotatsu starts to attack his naked chest with his wet kitten kisses. As if he is sympathizing with his sorrow but doesn’t know how to calm his favorite human.
A deep sign comes out in a shaky breath from Ace, almost like a sob. Then something tickles the corner of his eye. He raises one hand to his cheek, while with the other he still has Kotatsu in a strong protective hug.
His brows frown as his fingertips come away wet. For a moment, he simply stares at his fingers. He must have hit his head. Then he touches his cheek. A tear has followed the path of the first. Then another. He isn’t crying. At least, he doesn’t feel like he is. There is no sobbing. No lump in his throat. No overwhelming wave of emotion. Just tears slipping from his eyes.
The realization leaves him strangely unsettled. Crying felt foreign. Unnatural. He can’t remember the last time he cried. Not after a heartbreak or loss of a family member. Not after all the years spent swallowing every fear and hurt until they settle somewhere deep inside him. The last time he cried might have been when he was a child. Before he learned that tears solved nothing. Before he taught himself to hold everything in.
Yet here they are. Falling without permission. Falling because whatever walls he has built over the years had finally cracked beneath the weight of all of this.
Turning to lay on his back on the hard floor, Ace picks Kotatsu up and raises him up in the air. The streetlights, being the only source of light, lets him have a better look at his cat. “You know what buddy,” with tears still falling from his eyes, Ace sniffs before he continues, “I should’ve done that myself.” He nods at the back paws of his furry friend, where his ‘family jewels’ used to be before Ace had castrated him.
As if Kotatsu understood what his owner is referring to, he juggles his body around trying to escape Ace’s grip, but no success. “Easy, easy there.” Embracing the big fluff ball once again, Ace takes a deep breath before giving his cat one last kiss on the head before he lets him roam around the apartment freely. “You know you’re the best thing that has happened to me in life so far, right?” He softly calls after him and Kotatsu meows back as if to let Ace know that the feeling is mutual, before he disappears around the corner.
Ace follows him with his eyes before he is completely out of his sight. Adverting his eyes then to the ceiling he tries to collect himself as the tears build and blurry his vision. Pressing the pillows of his fingers to his temple, he attempts to gain his strength back and at least manage to get up from the floor, despite the pain in his body and unbearable headache. “Man up, you can’t allow yourself to whine like some bitch.” He scolds himself.
Bracing himself on his elbows, he pushes himself up from the floor. The moment he shifts his weight onto his hands; a sharp pain sparks through his right wrist. A harsh hiss escapes his lips as he jerks the hand back, cradling it against his chest. He hasn’t noticed the pain until now, “Perfect," he mutters under his breath, scowling at the throbbing joint.
As if waking up blacking out on the floor isn’t bad enough, he has somehow managed to fuck up his wrist when he was taking his anger out on the countertop. The pain pulsed with every slight movement, a constant reminder of his own carelessness.
Ace rolls his eyes and shakes his head, more irritated with himself than concerned about the injury he has caused himself. Taking a slow breath, he awkwardly pushes himself into a sitting position, being careful to keep the weight off his wrist. Another dull ache flared through his arm, earning a grimace. He rubs at his face with his free hand before finally lifting his gaze, looking around the apartment with a mixture of annoyance and growing unease.
It has to be hours since he blacked out, but the events before that are in a bit of a blur in his mind. The last thing he manages to remember is saying goodbye to you at the parking lot at the hospital, then some moments of him taking out all his rage on whatever was in front of his eyes at home. Thinking of you, he searches his pants in for his phone and thankfully he finds it in the front pocket, surprisingly in one piece.
His phone is almost dead, but he can’t bother to get to charge it now as he sees a couple of messages. Both from you and his brother Sabo. He goes through the ones sent by you first.
7:04PM You || Just got home. Let me know if you got home safe :)
8:24PM You || Did you get home?
8:26PM You || I just realize, you said you need some time… don’t feel obligated to text me back… won’t bother you again, just wanted to make sure you’re okay …
Followed by another message.
8:31PM You || I know you probably hate me for today… and I know I said that I won’t bother you again, but can you at least please seen my messages, so I know that you’re alive?
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ace squeezes his eyes as he curses himself. He is already fucking up. Looking at the time on the screen he wants to punch himself, as the last message is from fifteen minutes ago.
9:02PM You || Ace are you okay??? I’m genuinely worried about you! Pls, text me at least in the morning…
He tries to think of a good excuse, but nothing comes to his tired mind, so he quickly types in:
9:19PM Ace || I’m sorry. Had a very bad headache, fell asleep when I got home.
His message marks as ‘seen’ immediately after he sends it. A bubble that you’re typing appears on the screen, but he types faster:
9:21PM Ace || Don’t worry about me, okay? You shouldn’t stress urself :)
Your bubble disappears and then appears again. And then disappears again. This repeats a few times, when he finally receives a message from you.
9:24PM You || You’re allowed to be angry at me, you know that, right?
Yes, he knows this. He is more angry with himself than you, for better or worse. But also, he doesn’t have any energy to have this conversation with you right now, so he just sends a short answer message:
9:25PM Ace || Stop stressing! Gn :)
He doesn’t get any response from you, and he is not sure if he should take it as a good or bad sign, but he will be worrying about it tomorrow. All he wants to do now is take a cold shower and go straight to bed. After all he must wake up in less than five hours from now to go to work.
But before he gets up from the floor, he looks at the message his brother has sent him.
7:37PM Sabo || Should I start calling myself Uncle Sabo or..?
Reading this message alone is enough for Ace to throw the phone away, which thankfully lands on the couch. Sabo is ‘supposed’ to be the smartest of the bunch in their family, but sometimes Ace really asks himself which one of them is the dumbest. Given his current situation it is definitely him, but Sabo is not so far behind.
Ace stays sat for a moment, elbows resting on his knees as he waits for the last bits of dizziness to fade away. His chest still feels tight and head hurts, and he makes a mental note to himself to take a pill for the headache. He can’t comprehend that he has driven himself to unconsciousness. No matter how angry or lost he has felt before he has never blacked out, except from when his narcolepsy kicks in.
Slowly, he pushes himself on his feet. The room spins for a moment around him, causing him to take a quick pause, clearly lacking balance under his feet. Once he makes sure that floor won’t move under his feet, he makes his way towards the bathroom, desperate to wash away the sticky feeling of cold sweat off his body. On his way there, a glint of the kitchen floor catches his attention. The pieces of the broken glass that he has taken on his anger earlier are spread across the floor beside the countertop. He throws his head back and a loud weary sigh escapes him.
As much as he wants to ignore it and just take this much needed shower, he cannot risk Kotatsu stepping on the splinters and hurting himself. He crouches beside the countertop and starts to pick up the pieces in his hand. This sight makes him embarrassed and disgusted by himself. It is a proof of the version of himself he hates the most – the angry, hotheaded guy who acts on his impulses first and then, if ever, bothers to stop and think of the following consequences.
If hours ago, shattering the glass into million pieces brought him some kind of moment of relief and satisfaction, now is just a reminder of all the things he must take care of. The worst part is that he has no one to blame but himself for this behavior.
By the time he is done collecting every piece of it and making sure there is nothing left behind, he doesn’t feel any better or worse, but in his mind, there is one task less to worry about now.
With another sharp exhale he makes his way to the bathroom, longing for the hot water to hit his skin and hopefully ease his mind just a bit.
Stepping into the bathroom and flicking up the lights, Ace immediately squints as the brightness blinds him. Leaning over the sink, he opens the medicine cabinet and rummages through it in search for pain killers and hopefully some bandages because he has really fucked up his right hand.
His movement suddenly slowed down as he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looks terrible. His tanned skin has turned pale, his hair is a bigger mess than usual, dark circles are covering under his now bloodshot eyes. His whole face grimaces at the sight of him. For a moment he barely recognizes the face staring back at him.
Averting his gaze from his own reflection, he spots what he is looking for. He takes the painkillers bottle and shakes two pills in his palm, swallowing them dry. His reflection remains though; watching him with the same hallow and weary expression. Is this the face of a man that will be responsible for another life?
This thought follows him into the shower as he lets the steam of the boiling hot water embrace him and the water running on his body. He stands beneath the showerhead, eyes closed as he allows the heat to take over his aching body. Usually, a boiling hot shower like this one helps to wash off the bad days, but even this is not helping today. But there is no escape of today.
Ace lets himself absorb the noise of the running water as his mind screams loud once again. A father. The word is still so foreign to him. He rests his hand against the tiled wall and bows his head. His wet hair forms a small curtain around his face as if it would help to protect him from what is happening. He squeezes his eyes shut.
How can he become something that he never wanted to be in the first place? He has built his life so far with no intention of becoming a parent. How can he become a father, when his own was missing constantly from his life and he is far from the best example of being one to begin with.
Ace is not someone who thinks that he is, or will ever be, ready to guide another human through life or let alone raise them. Yes, everyone makes mistakes. Hell, he has made thousands of them in his life. And it isn’t the mistakes he is afraid of the kid might make one day. It is the fact that maybe, probably, one day his kid will look at him the same way Ace looks at Roger and hates the fact that they and him share the same blood… That they are made of his blood.
On top of it, Ace loves his freedom. He loves the fact that he is irresponsible and doesn’t care what tomorrow brings if he gets to live the way he wants to. He doesn’t want to be responsible for nobody but himself. And soon all of this will change. He can also name so many bad qualities about himself; he is impulse, he is a hothead, he is not patient, he has very low self-esteem despite everyone around him thinking quite the opposite. How is Ace supposed to be an ‘example’ for someone when he barely likes what he sees of himself?
How will he be able to look one day in his child’s eyes and know that he never wanted them in the first place? That instead of feeling joy and excitement, when their mother told him that she was pregnant with them, all he could feel at that moment was fear and denial. How can he look them in the eyes and tell them that if he had to make the choice they would have never been born…
A bitter laugh escapes him. That is what he loathes the most about this situation. He has no choice in it. The choice was entirely yours, and yes, you have put yourself first, but he wishes you didn’t choose this.
Of course, he could have been an asshole and talk you out of it, even threaten you, but despite how much he hates himself, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he had treated you like this. Plus, you kind of give him a choice. You have told him many times now that if he wants to, he can just ditch this responsibility, but Ace could never do this. The best quality he can say he has is that he never runs from anything (let alone such a big responsibility) but many might argue if this falls into the bad or good ‘quality’ category.
His thoughts are not getting any better or quieter. Hitting the tiles with his fist repeatedly, but not with force, he pushes away from the wall and turns off the water. The whole bathroom is dimmed by the steam, so when he gets out of the shower and wraps a towel around his hips, thankfully, the mirror over the sink is foggy so he doesn’t need to face his reflection.
Entering his bedroom, Ace doesn’t even bother to turn on the lights as the streetlights coming from the windows are enough to make his way around the room. The floor beneath him cracks as he stands in front of the wardrobe as he looks for a pair of basketball shorts to put on before hitting the bed. Finding what he is looking for, he unwraps the towel and lets it fall on the floor as he puts on the shorts. Before he closes the door, Kotatsu rushes into the room and jumps on the bed, making himself comfortable as he buries his body between the bed sheets. The way he snuggles himself in and turns into a big fluff ball makes Ace let out a short soft chuckle.
His body hits the softness of the bed. Spreading his limbs like he is being spread on a cross, Ace slowly blinks as he stares at the ceiling. Is he supposed to buy a crib soon and put it in the empty corner of the room? Or should he move out and move in to a new bigger apartment? Is that place supposed to be next to yours, so you have easier access to the baby when he is the one who takes care of it? How is he even going to take care of it? How are you two going to make it possible to begin with? Where do you even live? You two know nothing about each other… how are you going to make this work? How do you raise a child when you don’t even want one?
These questions don’t leave his mind. Turning his head to the side, he glances at the alarm clock on top of the nightstand next to the bed. It is already past midnight, and he starts work in four hours, yet despite how tired his body feels sleep doesn’t seem to find its way to him. Tuning and tossing around, trying to count sheep and trying to shut his thoughts, nothing helps and no sleeping position feels comfortable enough to fall asleep even for ten minutes.
Eventually his alarm buzzes at 3:00 am, though it doesn’t matter when he hasn’t even closed his eyes for a second and has been staring at the dark ceiling for hours consumed by his own thoughts. Hitting the snooze of the alarm, he slowly raises up and sits on the bed. His eyes feel raw and gritty, the awful feeling of being awake for so long, while his body aches with heavy exhaustion.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, with elbows resting on his knees, he looks over his shoulders at Kotatsu who has been sleeping and purring peacefully all night long. “Lucky bastard,” Ace thinks as he reaches to scratch the fluffballs head.
Work doesn’t care if he has slept or not, so he forces himself to get up. The cold floor bit at his bare feet as he crosses the room. He moves on to his morning routine by instinct alone. Shower, even though he already has taken one just a few hours ago, Ace feels like he needs another. Brushing his teeth. Getting dressed. Putting his favorite cologne on. Each action feels detached as if he is some machine controlled by somebody else, while his mind reminds on yesterday. When he catches his reflection in the mirror in the bathroom, he feels like he has aged double in the past twenty-four hours.
His gear bag rests on its usual spot, next to the bedroom door, so he swings it over his shoulder and makes his way to the front door, but before that he stops by Kotatsu’s automatic food feeder and refills it with enough food for the next forty-eight hours.
Outside, the air is cold and damp with the last hours reminding of the night. The streetlights cast pale pools of warm lights across the empty sidewalks as he walks to his motorbike. Most people are still asleep in the comfort of their homes as the city during these hours is usually quiet. Unlike the loud storm of thoughts his mind and soul are fighting.
The fire station kitchen is alive as always. Coffee cups clink against the countertop or some of the tables, chairs scraping across the floor as people move around all the time, and conversations overlapping with familiar voices. Some are talking about their favorite sport team loosing last night, others about the plans they have for the weekend or some funny story to keep up the mood up this early in the morning.
Ace just sits there, watching people pass by and hearing them talk, but his mind is separated from his body. He is being asked something or greeted by colleagues, then answering automatically, barely aware of what he even responses with. Usually, he is in the middle of all the jokes and keeping the station alive, but not today. And this doesn’t go unnoticed by his best friends here.
“I’ve never seen him like this.” Marco whispers to Thatch, who sits next to him as they both look with concern at their unusually quiet friend.
Ace dressed in his station clothes, just a plain black shirt and pants, sits across from them on the table, with a coffee cup wrapped around the palms of his hands, which he hasn’t bothered to even lift once to take a sip off. The circles under his eyes, and his hollow empty expression as if he has seen a ghost, aren’t hidden well even when someone passes by him and pats him on the shoulders and he gives them a very fake small smile to hide whatever is worrying him.
“He’s been stressed these past days, but whatever happened yesterday, must’ve been the cherry on the top.” Thatch says, his eyes glued to Ace who doesn’t seem to notice at all.
“Do you think it has to be something to do with the girl?” Marco emphasizes the last word as both him and Thatch remember your visit to the station a few days ago, and then the way Ace looked after he came back from the conversation you two had. Whatever that conversation was about it has taken a big tool on their young reckless friend.
The kitchen slowly starts to empty as most of the other firefighters go away to take care of the tasks that must be done for the day. Thatch and Marco take this as the perfect opportunity to finally ask their friend what is going on with him.
Marco snaps his fingers in front of Ace’s face a few times until he finally catches his attention. Even his face is slow with its reactions, as Ace barely lifts one eyebrow in question, looking at his friends confused. “What’s wrong with you Ace?”, Marco doesn’t waste any time and shoots the question straight away, “And don’t you dare say that you’re ‘fine’-”, he makes silent quotations in the air with his fingers, “because you obviously are far away from fine.”
“Marco is right man.” Thatch chimps in. “Since you’ve came back that day after she visited you’ve been distant.”
Ace just looks at them at first then averts his gaze away from them. Too tired, too scared and too ashamed to say out loud what is bothering him. This doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Come on, Ace.” Marco’s brows frown with concern as he can’t help but worry even more now. “You know, I see you as a part of my family and so is Thatch, so whatever it is we’ll be here for you.” Reaching over the table, he grabs Ace’s wrist and gives it a little squeeze to show that they got him no matter what, but Ace whines in pain, instinctively pulling away his arm. He has really hurt it but couldn’t find anything at home to fix it with.
“What’s wrong with your wrist?” Thatch nods his chin towards Ace’s arm.
“Hurt it last night.” Ace finally speaks up. His voice hoars. “I actually need to bandage it.” Still avoiding his friends gazes he gets up from the chair to escape, but both call after him.
“Just tell us what’s going on Ace!” Marco lifts his hands in the air in surrender. “Whatever is we won’t judge.”
Won’t they? Why wouldn’t? He judges himself for it, why wouldn’t the people who know him, wouldn’t? Does telling them fixing all this mess? No! But does not telling them help either? No, it doesn’t.
Clenching his fists he throws his head back and takes a deep breath, then turns and sits back on the chair. His mouth opens and closes a few times. The words just can’t find their way out. Thankfully, both Marco and Thatch are patient enough with him to give him the time he needs to let it out.
“She’s pregnant.” He blurs out the words in one breath. Both men sitting across from him just stare and slowly blink at him, the confusion on their faces turning into surprise. Ace slowly nods, as if to confirm that they heard him correctly.
Marco is first to dare speaking, “So… is it safe to guess that given your current state she’s keeping it?” Ace nods again, not having the strength to say it out loud.
“Ace, are you sure you’re the father?” Thatch jumps in with the question that Marco was about to ask himself. “Have you run a paternity test? After all you just slept once with her and then she just ran away.”
Marco nods his head a few times, agreeing with everything said by Thatch. “He’s right, Ace. Do you know if the kid’s yours for sure?”
Ace looks around and gestures at them to keep their voices low. Last thing he wants or needs is the rest of the fire station to know about his situation. “She said she’s only slept with me.”
“And you believe her?” Thatch loudly exclaims as he cannot believe how naïve his friend can be. Ace, on the other hand, shoots him another warning look. Not for what he is assuming, but for being loud.
“Yes, as stupid as it sounds, I do.” Running one hand over his face, he grabs a hold of his thick black hair and hides his head leaning on his forearms on the table. Propping his chin on his forearm, he just shrugs. “I know how ridiculous it sounds but believe me this girl has no reasons to lie about me being the one who knocked her up.”
“Why’s that?” Marco raises his one brow with curiosity.
“Her family is filthy rich. Do you think she has anything to gain from being knocked up by some guy like me?” A bitter chuckle escapes Ace’s lips.
No one is saying anything. They all let the noise from the outside consume the space as nothing seems right to be said. Both Marco and Thatch know about Ace’s past, and why he has never wanted a family of his own, so they can only imagine what is going on inside his mind now when his biggest nightmare is becoming a reality.
Ace can’t take more of this, and he doesn’t want to speak further on this matter, let alone look at the pity written on his friends’ faces, so he gets up from the chair. The loud screeching of its legs on the floor almost hurts the ears. “I’m going to find some bandage.” He lifts his right hand, pointing with his eyes at his wrist, before leaving the kitchen and his friends behind without saying anything more and making it clear that he wants to be left alone.
Marco and Thatch sit in silence and neither of them moves. The news has literally left them speechless. Neither of them knows what to do or say to Ace to make him feel better. It will take time for him to get used to the idea and let alone accept it, but both know one thing for sure; Ace would make an amazing father despite what he thinks of himself.
Marco is the first one to move, as he searches for something in his pants. Thatch side-eyes him when he notices Marco pulling his wallet up and handling him a fifty-paper bill. The realization of why his friend does this comes to his mind quickly as he takes the money. “This is the first time ever I cannot enjoy winning a bet.” He murmurs as he puts in his pocket.
“Mine guess wasn’t any better but knowing Ace he would have definitely preferred std’s over a baby.” Marco lets out a deep sigh as he pushes himself up and lets out a bitter chuckle. “Betting fifty on the gender of the baby?” He reaches with his thumb to Thatch.
“I say boy.” Thatch swipes the tip of his thumb with Marcos. “It’ll be his karma for being a menace as a kid.” “I say girl.” Marco can’t stop the laughter erupting from him. “I think that will be even more terrifying for him.”
END NOTE: Once again, thank you all for your patience and I'm really sorry I haven't updated the story for 6 months... I'll try my best to update at least every two weeks, but this really depends on the schedule in my personal life.
This chapter turned out very Ace focused, but I'm quite happy with it. I hope you liked it and I managed to make you feel what Ace felt at least a little bit, hihi. I can't wait to write more about him and reader and how their relationship will develop with time. This is one of the last "sad-ish" parts for now, from now on expect a lot of awkward and cringe moments between those two and very bad humour.
As always every like, comment, reblog or message you send me means the world to me, so always feel free to share how you felt about the chapters you read ♡
Love you all and take care ♡
