Damn the Delivery Boy

month five

Jeongguk, by your request, stops claiming spare shifts in order to maintain both of your sanities, and therefore allowing him more time to study and sleep. But it also grants him moments like this, and you watch with delight at the way his face changes, fingers holding onto your own tighter as the doctor confirms the sex.

A boy. A little boy.

You both smile at each other as though the entire world exists in the eyes of the other. Jeongguk kisses your cheek, your knuckles, smoothing back your hair, whispering a boy, a boy, a boy. And you cannot help but imagine this tiny boy in ten, twenty years time, at a time when he is too big for you to hold, old enough to care for himself, and it is so overwhelming that tears brim at your eyes and Jeongguk kisses them away too.

The two of you spend the afternoon strolling through the local Baby World, grabbing the attention of much older mothers, as per usual, who carry packs of nappies and fresh bibs. Jeongguk only holds you closer under their prying eyes, careful to always have his fingers lingering on your arm, shoulder, neck like some protective alpha wolf and you keep brushing him away with flushing cheeks, but he insists and so you let him be.

Typically, you enter the section of varying tones of blue, for skies and oceans and boys, boys, baby boys. Though the entire time that you amble down the aisles, Jeongguk maintains a small frown, a peculiar distaste.

"What if Pizza decides he likes dolls, or the colour pink," Jeongguk comments, flicking the robin egg blue of a baby onesie. "But everything we buy him is blue?"

"True," You hum, lifting up a colourful plastic wand and rattling it. When you do, it lights up and makes a sweet tinkle, which has you grinning and Jeongguk melts a little on the inside. "Though what if Pizza hates pink? What if he hates blue, too?"

"Well, fuck. Do you like green?"

And so you buy green, flourishing, brilliant green in all of its lovely shades. Pear silk curtains to hang over the blinds in the nursery. Hats that fit on Jeongguk's balled fist and outfits of jade and shamrock. Lime bed covers and sheets, with chartreuse boxes for diapers and other baby goods to be stored. Even one of those mats that looks like curled noodles in a colour of viridian. Green pours from your palms like waterfalls, falling leaves, being hung and positioned around the small space of the study-turned-bedroom until all you can see, hear, taste is shades of emerald and juniper and myrtle.

"Let's hope Pizza doesn't hate green," Jeongguk sighs after you both step back to take a look at the place, drawing you into his side and kissing your temple.

Laughter shakes through your body, and you hope that the little baby in your belly can feel your joy, can hear your voices humming through the room.

"Well, we are certainly breaking the gender stereotypes one baby at a time."