Chapter Text
It started with nausea.
What an absolute cliché, like he was living in a movie. Of course it started with nausea. And then came the fatigue, and the muscle soreness, and the mood swings. Maybe a little worse than usual, but nothing new. That was what happened when you lived the life of a pro-gamer, destroying your circadian rhythm by sleeping in the early hours of the morning and not rising until late in the afternoon.
Nothing a few days off wouldn’t fix. Enough sleep, some walks outside, eating and talking with friends, the soothing sounds of something other than League would be enough. Except it didn’t get better, no matter how long he allowed himself to sleep. And the nausea continued, worse when he woke up, dizzy and lightheaded no matter how much water he drank.
And then one evening Yonghyuk found him dry-heaving over the toilet. He looked at Heo Su with concern, his hand cool and soothing against the back of Heo Su’s neck. “Heo Su-yah,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“Think I ate something bad,” Heo Su replied. Never mind the fact that he hadn't eaten lunch or dinner that day, that it had been several weeks of nausea at this point, stomach revolting against the rest of his body at the worst and most unexpected moments. But it was still manageable, not enough to alarm anyone on the team for.
“Okay,” Yonghyuk said doubtfully. “It’s just.” He ran his hand down Heo Su’s back not unlike petting a cat, and Heo Su would never say aloud that he found it comforting even as he leaned back into it. “Your scent.”
Heo Su paused. “Scent?” he asked. He’d just had his biannual heat two months ago; it was too early for a repeat. Much too early for a repeat, and he refused to think about what happened during that specific heat, embarrassment and shame and the best sex he’d ever—he was not going to dwell on those events. He was going to forget that whole period of his life in its entirety, because it would never be repeated.
Yonghyuk leaned in, nose nearly buried in Heo Su’s hair, close enough that Heo Su could smell him as well. Like a light mint, a bit spicy on the nose, but overall calming and even a bit sweet.
“It doesn’t smell like your heat,” Yonghyuk reassured. “Just different. It’s nice.”
There should be alarm bells going off in Heo Su’s brain right now, but honestly it was nice to have Yonghyuk so close. He felt safe, comfortable and cared for, and it must partly be due to biology, of having an alpha so close, but there had always been something soothing about Yonghyuk. Even his stomach felt better, having Yonghyuk’s cool hands against his skin.
“Weird.” Heo Su closed his eyes, letting himself fall back against Yonghyuk, who accepted his weight without complaint. His sleep had also been fractured lately, which he mostly blamed on the constant replaying memories of his last heat, of hands on his hips and waist, of voices murmuring praise into his ear. Easy enough to banish from his brain for the moment, but it always snuck back on him in his dreams.
He sighed. “Should probably see a doctor.”
Yonghyuk hummed, shifting Heo Su slightly in his arms until his head was comfortably cradled against Yonghyuk’s skinny shoulder. His hands rested against Heo Su’s belly, cozy and snug, like they belonged there.
For a moment, Heo Su didn’t think of anything at all. Mind pleasantly blank, drifting without purpose.
-
Thankfully, the nausea finally faded after another few weeks, and though the fatigue and lightheadedness were still bothering him, it was enough improvement to give Heo Su some level of reassurance. But now that he was no longer vomiting his brains out, it seemed like all the food was staying in his belly. He felt bloated and his abdomen seemed rounder, almost protruding, pants and shirts fitting less loosely than usual.
He hadn't been eating any more than usual, had honestly expected the weeks of nausea and vomiting to have caused weight loss not gain. His appetite hadn’t changed, though maybe he leaned toward comfort foods more than usual.
Yonghyuk also kept looking at him oddly. Long, lingering glances with a furrowed brow, like he was trying to puzzle out some mystery Heo Su was hiding.
There was nothing. Nothing Heo Su was hiding, nothing between them, just a collegial relationship between teammates.
Nothing.
Nothing until Seongwoong pulled him aside with a worried glance, hand firm around his shoulder. “Heo Su,” he said. “Your scent—are you?”
He'd forgotten Seongwoong was also an omega, his scent easy to lose in the overwhelming scent of alpha practically imprinted into his skin. Whoever Seongwoong was dating wasn't messing around, had staked their claim like a giant neon sign to Seongwoong’s head.
“Am I?” Heo Su asked. It was the second time someone had commented on his scent, but it was still too soon for his heat. “Is something wrong?”
After a quick scan of the practice room, Seongwoong pulled Heo Su with him to his office. Small and cramped, it still had more privacy than the room outside.
“Your last heat, after the series with Gen G,” he said calmly, like he expected Heo Su to bolt. “Did you—did you spend it with anyone?”
Oh god. Heo Su’s face burned, mortified and flustered. “What?” he blurted out. “That's—why would you ask that?”
Seongwoong sighed, one hand rubbing at his forehead, the other fidgeting with the ring on his finger. “Heo Su,” he said urgently, voice agonized, like every word from his mouth was being brutally plucked out. “Are you pregnant?”
-
There was no way.
There was no way. It was the only thought running through Heo Su’s head through the excruciating trip to the convenience store and back. Seongwoong had offered to buy tests for him, but his pride could only take so much of a beating. Better for him to face this head-on alone.
Not that he was pregnant. There was no way. He was on birth control—had dutifully visited the clinic last month and allowed himself to get stabbed in the arm as always.
Right?
A creeping, icy feeling climbed up his back, because hadn’t he been sick, right around when he would make his monthly trip? It had been a rough cold, he’d been bedridden for several days, and did he—surely he had rescheduled, gotten his shot a different day, hadn’t been distracted by practice or scrims or games and forgotten something so direly important? Just because he wasn't having regular sex anymore didn't mean he would dismiss it, just because he'd spent the past year since his break-up abstinent and alone.
Surely he'd gotten his shot this month.
His stomach was tight with something worse than nausea, tension curled deep and hollow in his gut. Suddenly, he regretted not having Seongwoong here with him. Because now he was in public on the brink of a complete breakdown, and the only thing stopping him was his own embarrassment and shame.
-
There were two lines on the stick, two lines on all four sticks he’d bought, overwhelmingly positive, and Heo Su had no idea what to do. Head in his hands, slumped over the bathroom counter, desperately trying to think of something, anything other than panic. Something productive, and he was good at that, wasn't he? When things were dire in game, he was an expert at finding a way out: the perfect teamfight, the perfect pick, the perfect angle to save an otherwise hopeless game.
He should probably tell Seongwoong, beg him for leniency, figure out how he could hide this for the rest of the season. The last thing on his mind right now should be League, but the very idea he might be benched or forced to quit over this was sending him spiraling.
Being a pro-gamer hadn’t been his childhood dream, and even when he had first started, he’d practiced and played with the aim to retire early. But after so many years, it had become so much of his identity and something he’d truly become proud of, and he couldn’t imagine retiring now. Not this season. Not for this.
He didn’t know why he went to Geonhee—for all that he was a support in-game, he had never been the best at emotionally supporting the team. Lacked the maternal instinct that seemed inherent to the role, not nearly as nurturing as the stereotypes went. But he was still one of Heo Su’s oldest friends, and he needed someone to tell him this would all be okay.
Geonhee’s room was unlocked, the man himself tucked into bed and furiously tapping at his phone, caught up in one of his mobile games. He looked up as Heo Su slipped in, though, blinking at him owlishly before pressing something on his phone and setting it down beside him. “Heo Su?”
Heo Su dropped down onto the bed, sitting awkwardly at the edge. “Um,” he said. “I have a problem.”
There was no delicate way to say it, and still Heo Su was resistant to saying the words aloud, like it would make it real in a way it wasn’t now, stuck in Heo Su’s head.
Geonhee glanced at his phone, like he really regretted setting it down, and then back at Heo Su. “Yes?”
“I,” Heo Su started, before aborting quickly. His eyes flicked over the rest of Geonhee’s room—the figurines on his bookshelf, old fan posters, stuffed animals on his desk and his ground. “I’ve been feeling sick lately. Since our match with Gen G.”
Geonhee’s eyes narrowed, brow creased in thought, mouth thinning to a line. “Gen G,” he said. “Wasn’t that when—”
“I took a test,” Heo Su said. And maybe it would be easier to just show him. Less talking, more physical evidence. He had barely slid one of the sticks from his pocket, when something seemed to spark in Geonhee.
“Oh my god,” Geonhee said, eyes wide as saucers, mouth dropping open. “You’re pregnant.”
Heo Su dropped the stick. Dropped all of the sticks. Dropped his head into his arms. He wasn’t someone prone to emotion; he rarely cried. But here he was, tears painfully gathering at the edges of his eyes that he roughly tried to press away.
Geonhee patted him on the shoulder, scooping him up into an awkward hug, and Heo Su was thankful for the attempt at comfort. It was really a comment on how long they had known each other that Geonhee even tried to provide anything this outright sympathetic or nice.
It was nice to sit in silence, but not alone. To know there was someone here with him at his side despite it all.
Geonhee sighed. “I hate to ask,” he said. “But who?”
Heo Su froze, burying his face further into Geonhee’s shoulder, and mumbling out an incomprehensible, “Dunno.”
Geonhee didn’t immediately reply, and Heo Su dearly hoped that would be the end of it, that maybe Geonhee wouldn’t pry—
“Dunno?” Geonhee repeated, voice edging into hysteria. He pushed Heo Su away, hands gripping his shoulders, holding Heo Su at arms-length. “What?”
Heo Su looked away, refusing to make eye contact.
“Heo Su,” Geonhee said slowly, suspiciously. “Who?”
And that was the problem. The massive, gigantic problem in Heo Su’s life, because he didn't know.
Or well, that wasn't exactly accurate. He did know, he knew who he had spent his heat with, because the question wasn't who, it was whose. Because unlike normal people, Heo Su had been cursed with colossally terrible luck, and instead of spending his heat alone like he’d planned, he’d ended up with two alphas in his bed and pregnant.