Dawg With A Blog

It wasn't like she was waiting around for results.

She had already looked at the test, she knew what the results said. The minute she had to wait had felt like a second; time was so distorted that (Y/n) wasn't sure how long she had been stood there, tapping away to try and soothe her erratic heart and frantic mind. Although her mind was constantly switching between going blank and giving her too many thoughts to comprehend.

The test was positive.

Her eyes glanced down again, looking at the little blue plus sign that stared back at her like it was trying to mock her.

This was the third time that (Y/n) had taken one of these tests; this was the third positive pregnancy result she had gotten in the last two and a half years.

Life seemed to enjoy mocking her like this. Fate revelled in giving (Y/n) what she wanted only to take it away in a heartbeat.

She didn't know what to do now.

The first time she got a result like this, she told Ashton straight away. She watched his signature grin light up the room, watched that sparkle twinkle like a burning star within his pupils. She watched how happy he had been to tell his parents, his family, the band. Just their closest loved ones at first, just to get that excitement out there and let them know.

And look how badly that had ended. A night time hospital visit a month later to tell them she'd lost the baby.

The second time hadn't been much of a variation. She found out, she told Ashton, they agreed only to tell their parents and keep it hushed until things progressed and it felt safe. The band didn't know until after (Y/n) had the miscarriage and she would step foot in the studio for a solid month.

(Y/n) didn't want to do that again. She didn't want to tell Ashton straight away and watch that hope surge through him, only to take it away days or weeks later. She didn't want to make him worry the same as she was right now. (Y/n) didn't want to tell anyone.

That was her decision, made as she stared down at the test that was taunting and teasing her like it knew this was just going to be false hope to keep her going for a month or two. Something to boost her happiness and hopes so they could be utterly crushed at a later date.

If she didn't tell him, if she didn't tell anyone, not their family or friends or the band. If this stayed quiet, then maybe it would work out differently. (Y/n) could take things steady, be careful, not overdo anything and take care of herself. She could try and protect this baby.

Then when she knew they were okay, when she'd had a scan or two and a doctor assured her this baby was perfectly safe and not going anywhere, then she could surprise Ashton. She could see that hope revitalise his eyes with certainty that nothing was going to ruin this again. They could tell the band and figure out how to keep it quiet, keep it from the rest of the world.

But for now, this was going to stay as (Y/n)'s little secret. It was going to be easier to wait for certainty than take a risk and fall hard. She didn't want to break Ashton's heart; not again.

There was less chance of disappointment from others and the round of sympathy they would receive if (Y/n) didn't tell them. If she did lose this one too, no one else would have to feel that heartache.

She wouldn't have to see the way the band looked at her, how they curved around her like a protective shield to keep her broken pieces together. She wouldn't get those sorrowful looks from Michael who hadn't known how to act around her after the second miscarriage when he'd just found out he was going to have a baby of his own.

(Y/n) couldn't deal with it again, with her and Ashton's family messaging her, coming round to check on her, trying to figure out whether to ignore it or talk about it or tell her it would get better.

She didn't want anyone walking on egg shells around her, trying not to be too happy about this news in case it didn't last long.

Tears threatened to fall from her eyes, but (Y/n) pushed them aside and tilted her head down, staring at the glistening white sink until there were no thoughts in her head and no prickling sensation behind her nose trying to make her burst into tears.

Even that spark in her chest, that flutter of adrenaline surging up from her stomach through to her nerves and heart and lungs, she tried to dull that down as well. (Y/n) couldn't afford to let herself smile and become hopeful, not this early on. This was something she could only acknowledge in the back of her mind, something she could think about a few times during the day but never dwell on. Not until it was set in stone.

When she knew she wasn't going to burst into tears, she bent down and tossed the test in the small pedal bin beneath the sink and took the bag out. Giving it a quick shake before she knotted it up so she could bin it later.

She washed her hands, splashed a dab of water on her face and turned off the light, making her way back to the bedroom.

She knew it was still early, far too early to get up and start the day when the sun was barely starting to rise and there was still a burnt orange glow creeping through the curtains. But (Y/n) hadn't been able to sleep any longer, not until she knew for definite if she was pregnant or not. That test had been burning a hole in her bag for two days and the tension had become too hard to ignore.

A ghost of a smile traced over her lips when she aimed for the bed. Ashton was right where she'd left him, he clearly hadn't woken or noticed that she'd disappeared for a good ten minutes or more.

The bed was cold when she climbed back in and it was soothing against her skin that was prickling with heat.

Her head turned to the right, looking over at Ashton. So peaceful, so settled and blissfully unaware of the dilemma she was purposely keeping from him so he didn't have to worry either.

He was laid with his cheek smushed up into the pillow, hair askew in all directions around his head like each curl had been amplified and sparked with electricity. One arm was bent awkwardly up against the headboard in a way that would undoubtedly make his wrist ache when he eventually woke up. He was laid on his stomach, his left leg hanging off the side of the bed and the covers pushed low so they were barely covering his hips, his bare back on display.

With his right arm being draped near her, (Y/n) took the opportunity to lift his arm and slowly slide beneath it until she could drape his arm over her chest.

Waking him was the last thing (Y/n) wanted to do, but she wanted- no, needed to be closer to him. She needed to be tucked into his side like this, to be close enough that all the thoughts in her head would shut down and let her rest, let her be for a little while.

Her eyes closed automatically and she turned her head until her lips were lightly peppering soft butterfly kisses against Ashton's shoulder. Both hands curved around his bicep that was resting comfortably on her chest and her foot began to glide and smooth up and down the back of his leg.

The movement must have jostled him from his sleep because although he didn't open his eyes, his arm did tighten around her. He was acknowledging the closeness between them. He shifted his head a bit closer to her until he was practically smothered by both the pillow and her hair, with his lips and nose meshed up against the top of her head.

(Y/n) wasn't sure how he could breathe like that, but he seemed content and happy enough, so she continued to peck his shoulder.

Her thrumming pulse was already settling back down to baseline and she knew that if Ashton moved or wriggled around in a minute or two, he would be laid on top of her like a weighted blanket. And then she might be able to snatch another few hours of sleep before they had to get up.

But even if she didn't, at least she could lay here, calm and rested with her mind mellowing out instead of going on overdrive with thoughts and possibilities and worries and hopes.

She would be able to tell him soon. Hopefully.

A glimmer of a smile hinted across (Y/n)'s lips before she managed to steel her expression and keep herself neutral, even as the memory from two weeks ago continued to cross her mind.

Two weeks of knowing about the pregnancy, but contracting herself not to tell a soul. Not Ashton, not her parents or his parents, not the rest of the band. Everyone was clueless, going about their day as if the future they saw before them wasn't about to start changing and morphing into something else.

(Y/n) was the only one who could see and imagine those changes, because she didn't want to show them only for that road to become blocked before they even got to go down it.

With her expression as neutral and calm as she could make it, even with that memory playing in the back of her mind, (Y/n) tried to focus again.

She had barely been taking note of what the interviewer was asking each of them, only chipping in when the others said something that she agreed with or sparked a little anecdote she could add. Other than that, (Y/n) resorted to smiles or nods because she wasn't feeling great today.

The lights on this interview set were so bright, the actual room was sweltering with all the people milling about backstage and the crowd sat opposite the set. Not to mention the toast (Y/n) tried to have for breakfast wasn't willing to stay down and she'd had to down a bottle of water before they came on because she felt like she was about to pass out.

Her mind threatened to start wandering again when she heard the next question the interviewer directed towards Michael.

"Has fatherhood changed you in any way, do you think?"

She didn't hear whatever response Michael gave. His words faded out like a whisper on the wind, carried away before (Y/n) could even try to comprehend what he might have said.

Her mind was too focused on hoping, praying, that maybe this time next year, that could be a question directed towards Ashton. That could be a question he would be able to answer, if this all worked out.

If that was a question they would have gotten last year, (Y/n) knew Michael would have looked towards Ashton before answering. He would have checked that the question didn't prickle and sting Ashton too much because if it did, Michael would have brushed it off and said it was too personal.

He would never want to talk about his daughter and becoming a father if he knew the topic was sensitive for his bandmates.

The public, the fans, none of them knew that (Y/n) had gone through two miscarriages. They were clueless, but the band weren't. They had been careful and compassionate about it, Michael hadn't talked about his baby a lot during the pregnancy because he knew it wouldn't be fair to (Y/n). And he could see the way Ashton suddenly went quiet and had that distant, broken look in his eyes whenever it was brought up.

It took a while for the wounds to heal, for things to feel balanced again and for the band to know that they could talk about kids or babies and not cause any unintentional upset for the couple.

(Y/n) didn't want things to go like that again, for topics to become sensitive and avoided and for her heart to break and feel like she had broken Ashton's too.

She wanted to get through this pregnancy and see Ashton smile, see him answer questions like this and be able to tell his family and prepare for this baby and not have to think or worry about it going wrong.

A little while longer; a few more weeks, then it would be safe to tell him. To let him in on this little secret.

She resisted the urge to look down at her stomach, to let her mind wander that far and become lost when she needed to stay here, stay focused on this interview. Because she had already been quiet and distant enough, she didn't want it to become a problem or for everyone to think something was wrong. The band knew she had been feeling under the weather today, they didn't need to think any more of it than that.

Uncrossing her legs, she bent forward and reached for her water bottle between her and Calum's feet.

It didn't help that she was wedged in between Calum and Ashton on the sofa with Luke and Michael on raised seats behind them. (Y/n) was used to feeling up close and personal with the band, they were all family at this point, having been together and touring for so long. But when she didn't feel well, when the room felt sweltering and she was wedged in between them like a sandwich, it made her feel unwell.

She downed what was left in her water bottle and set it back down, unable to stop the faraway look in her eyes as she lolled her head back into the sofa like she was on a plane preparing for turbulence.

It was clear she wasn't really listening anymore. Calum noticed quickly, because the next question was one that (Y/n) could answer better than the rest of them, and she hadn't even tried to make a response.

He gently nudged his elbow into her waist, raising one brow as he looked between (Y/n) and the interviewer until she got the silent message.

"Sorry, I was… I was somewhere else." A flattering smile crossed her face as she waved her hand near her head to make her point.

It went down well, the interviewer laughed and Michael was quick to lean forward and give an answer instead. (Y/n) was grateful, she didn't think she could come up with a good answer even if the question was repeated to her. It felt like her stomach was being gripped in a vice and someone was squeezing tight.

She tried to take a calming breath and inched a little closer to the right until she was pressing up against Ashton's arm and her head flopped against his shoulder, meshing her cheek against his leather jacket. She took another deep breath, inhaling his scent and that oak cologne that always made her heart flutter and feel at home.

It was comforting when she felt Ashton's hand rest on her thigh and she caught the look on the interviewer's face when he watched Ashton rest his cheek on her head. If hearts could of appeared in his eyes as he stared at the couple, then they would have.

Ashton's foot began to tap against the floor. He wasn't so keen on interviews like this. He preferred the ones they did with James Corden or the drumming interviews he did online where he got to be behind a drumset or the band got to do games and move around.

Sitting down didn't do him any good. Since he was a child Ashton was active, he liked to be moving, whether that was tapping his pen on the table until classmates told him to stop or just walking around to keep himself from becoming jittery like this.

The only thing stopping him from bouncing off the walls right now was (Y/n)'s head on his shoulder and the way she was cosied up into his side, giving him soemthing else to focus on.

Mainly because now that she was leaning into him, Ashton realised that she was trembling. It was subtle, but he could feel her arm wedged up against his and there was a light tremor going down her skin and her hand was tapping against his hip, but from shaking, not anxious habit like his foot tapping the floor.

He gave her thigh a squeeze and moved his head so he could look down at her while Luke answered the next question asked.

He didn't like the way (Y/n) tensed up against him and suddenly closed her eyes, but when her left hand raised and suddenly clamped over her mouth, Ashton's frame bristled and he sat up straighter.

He didn't get chance to move, to try and give some lame excuse to the interviewer to give (Y/n) a second to get off stage, because he knew what that meant. She was going to throw up.

(Y/n)'s hand dug down against Ashton's thigh so abruptly that he almost jumped, feeling her nails scratching into his leather jeans and almost cutting through his skin. She pushed her weight down onto her hand, using his thigh as leverage to get herself up on her feet as fast as possible.

She felt his hand brush across her lower back before she weaved around the side of the sofa, desperately trying to rush to make it off stage before she was sick.

She didn't make it.

(Y/n) got three feet before the little side wing that led off stage when the water she had drank spluttered past her lips and she coughed it up onto the floor.

There was no time to cringe or worry that the whole audience on the show had just seen her cough up.

Her left arm bound around her waist as if trying to pin her stomach in place and stop her stomach from lurching again while her other hand reached out, fumbling to try and press against the wall to help her balance and keep herself upright. Her palm pressed against the wall but just as (Y/n) got into the small dimly lit corridor where she was finally out of sight and away from everyone, it happened again.

The little bit of toast and juice she managed to keep down for breakfast came back up and she threw up on the floor, doubling forward until all the blood rushed to her head and she was sure she was going to faint.

"Oh shit."

Hopping up from the sofa, Ashton turned and bolted, ignoring the fact that he was leaving the rest of the guys to wait awkwardly with the interviewer. He turned to one side, bypassing one of the staff who worked here who had come out to clean the floor where (Y/n) threw up. His sights were set and focused on (Y/n) and her alone.

He almost smiled when he heard Calum uttering "She's not been well this week."

As soon as he was behind her Ashton reached out for her, one hand on her lower back and the other holding onto her left hand to make sure she stayed upright and wasn't about to collapse. He began to smooth his hand up and down her back, relieved that she hadn't passed out and she seemed to have stopped now.

"If you said you weren't feeling up to it we could of cancelled." He muttered softly before he kissed the back of her head.

If he knew she felt this unwell, if she thought she was actually going to be sick, he would have asked the guys if they could do it without (Y/n) or if they could rearrange to another date.

(Y/n) was glad she was still doubled over, just in case she threw up again, because it stopped Ashton from seeing the relief on her face.

This was morning sickness.

Surely this meant that everything was going smoothly with the baby, that for now, her body was okay and adjusting to it. She only had a small bout of morning sickness the second time she was pregnant and it hadn't lasted long before everything went to pot. This was a sign that things might be different this time.

She might be able to tell Ashton soon.

"Ash, how you doing?" Luke leant back in his seat until his head was almost bent back like his neck had broken or he was going through an exorcism. The distortion of looking at things upside down didn't make a difference to Luke as he looked over at the couple he could just about see hidden in the little hall backstage.

He saw the way Ashton turned and shook his head before he moved his hand to slice in front of his throat. (Y/n) wasn't going to be coming back out to finish this interview, and Ashton wasn't about to leave her either when she wasn't well.

But Ashton wafted his hand towards the stage, motioning to the band until Luke realised what he was trying to imply. The rest of them could stay, they could finish off this interview without the couple.

"I uh, I think it's just three seconds of summer now."

***

It's okay, everything is fine. It's fine. Fine. Fine.

The words circled around (Y/n)'s head like a mantra, something to try and calm herself down and tell herself that this situation wasn't bad. This wasn't a problem. This wasn't about to become a horrid situation like it had done in the past.

(Y/n) repeated the words in her mind and uttered them under her breath until it felt like her body was calming down and her mind was agreeing and being fooled.

It was just a bit of blood.

Nothing to worry about; that was what (Y/n) tried to tell herself earlier when she went to the toilet and saw spots of blood in her underwear. It wasn't a lot, not enough to worry about, but that didn't stop her mind from running to the worst possible scenario.

This had happened before; waking up in the middle of the night to a lot more blood and cramping pains. But (Y/n) wasn't in pain right now, she didn't feel pain or cramps or dizzy or sick. She just felt panicked. A tremendous amount of panic that was like thousands of birds flapping their wings in her stomach and vibrating through her ribcage. It felt like her stomach was flooded with cement and clogging up until she felt heavy and weighed down.

But not sick, not ill or feverish or any of the kind of symptoms she would of expected, and none of the symptoms she had felt before.

All she had to do was carry on as normal, as if there was absolutely nothing wrong and hopefully her body would agree with her mind and then everything would be okay.

The band knew something was up, but they didn't question it when (Y/n) said she had a headache. Ashton was the only one who kept glancing her way each time she didn't add her input into the song they were trying to finish today in the studio. Each time Michael tried to finish a riff and it didn't sound quite right, (Y/n) didn't add an input like she usually would. She didn't try and sing the lyrics or be the voice of reason.

She had sat behind the piano and played the melody they had already written down and perfected.

It was harder than she thought it would be to keep her mind on the task at hand, on the song that was like background music to the soundtrack of spiralling thoughts raging through (Y/n)'s mind right now.

Praying that this was just normal spotting during pregnancy felt like praying for a miracle that she knew would never happen. It just kept making her think that it was a good job she hadn't told Ashton yet. If this was her losing the baby, then it was good that she had kept it to herself and not told him just to upset and disappoint him. Again.

She felt like she was in a trance as she walked around the room, making her way from the window she had been aimlessly staring out of, towards the little counter at the far right where the cups were. (Y/n) knew she probably wouldn't drink whatever she was about to make, but it would give her something to do for a few minutes and a bit of fluids and sugar might make her perk up and calm down. Maybe.

Her fingers tapped away against her cup while she waited for the kettle to boil, feeling her mind wandering off again in the process.

A shuddering breath escaped her lips and her mind came tumbling away from her thoughts when a careful hand rested on her shoulder.

When she turned, (Y/n) narrowed her eyes inquisitively as she looked at Michael. At some point, for some reason, he had taken off the charcoal grey jacket he had been sporting all morning, despite the fur lining on the inside which must have made him boiling combined with the warmth in the studio today.

But now, he was stood with said jacket hanging on his index finger with his hand outstretched towards (Y/n).

When she didn't take the jacket and instead stared at him with curiosity combined with confusion, his expression turned soft like melted frosting and his lips quirked up to one side in a lopsided smile. He almost looked bashful as he motioned the jacket out to her again until she took it from him.

(Y/n) looked between Michael and the jacket, unsure what she was supposed to do now. She wasn't freezing, it was warm enough in here that (Y/n) had shed her own jacket the moment she and Ashton turned up this morning. She didn't need to wear Michael's jacket right now.

He ran a hand through his hair, brushing the stark crimson strands from his eyes so they hung and framed his cheeks and shaded his ears instead.

"You uh… I think you've leaked. Thought you could tie that around your waist, so it doesn't show."

His voice was so soft and tender that (Y/n) let out a shallow breath as she took in his words. He was married, he knew things like this happened and if it was his wide he wouldn't want her feeling nervous or embarrassed.

The last thing Michael wanted to do was make a big thing of it, but he had been about to walk past and go grab his guitar again when he happened to look down. There was a bit of blood on (Y/n)'s jeans. He didn't want to make a big thing of it and tell her in front of the others. It wasn't like when they were on tour, none of them brought a bag of clothes with them to the studio so (Y/n) couldn't just go and get changed.

But Michael thought if she tied his jacket around her waist, then it wouldn't show and the rest of the band wouldn't know she'd had a little mishap.

They had all been doing this for almost fifteen years now. Countless tours together and days in the studio and trips in their spare time. This wasn't the first time this had happened, but that didn't mean (Y/n) wouldn't still be embarrassed by something like this.

(Y/n) clenched the jacket in her fist until the zipper imbedded into the palm of her hand and threatened to cut through her skin, but she barely felt it. All she could feel was a sense of overwhelming dread as her breath caught in her throat and her head turned abnormally slow to look behind her.

Her free hand feathered across her waist and pulled at the hem of her jeans until she could properly see behind her and realised that yes, Michael was right. There was a patch of blood on the back of her jeans near her thighs.

The petrified look on her face made Michael's smile fade and he reached out to try and hold onto her arm for reassurance. She didn't have anything to be worried or ashamed of.

"It's okay, no one-"

"No." tremors rattled through her bones as she shook her head until her neck ached. "Not again."

She yanked her arm so forcefully out of Michael's grip that he stumbled, eyes wide in confusion and growing fear for her, but (Y/n) didn't spare him another look. She couldn't. Her mind was too focused on trying to move, to get away, but she wasn't even sure where she wanted or needed to go. She just had to get away. She wanted to disappear.

That little piece of information had overloaded her mind until there were no thoughts rattling through her head anymore, just pure panic.

Each time she parted her lips and tried to take in a breath, all she got was a few bubbles of air that managed to scrape past the lump in her throat. It felt like her throat muscles were closing up and her vocal chords were pressing together, blocking off her trachea.

Her steps were more like shuffles until she was stumbling and white spots flashed before her eyes until her vision was completely obstructed and she couldn't even make out the shapes around the studio.

Everything was a blur of colours.

When Ashton stepped in front of her, (Y/n) didn't even notice until his hands were on her arms and she jerked back, knowing if she had enough air in her lungs, she would have screamed.

"Babe, what's wrong?"

"It's- it's happening again." Her hands fisted in Ashton's shirt so suddenly and tightly thatt she managed to scratch his chest and her grip jolted his shoulders forwards and almost took him off balance.

His eyes narrowed and he quickly slid down to grip her elbows, keeping tight hold of her with how badly she seemed to be shaking and how unsteady she looked to him. Confusion took over Ashton's expression and dwelled at the forefront of his mind as he looked at her.

Why did she look so grave and petrified? What was she doing with Michael's jacket that was now dropped on the floor by their feet? What had worried her so much that she looked like she had come faceto face with death itself?

"What, what is?" He took a quick look around at his surroundings, but Ashton didn't understand.

When he glanced across at Michael, he found him shrugging with a rather worried expression. He didn't understand either. But when Michael made a small gesture towards (Y/n)'s legs, Ashton stepped closer to her until their chests were touching and her arms were pinned in between them so he could look around her.

There was blood on her jeans. But it was only a small amount, and that was not much of a big deal for (Y/n) to come on her period. It wasn't the end of the world; and now Ashton could see why Michael had given her his jacket.

"I can't, I can't," words fumbled past (Y/n)'s lips but they wouldn't come out in the right order and her head was constantly shaking like she thought that denying this situation would somehow make it go away.

She let go of Ashton's shirt which left creases and ruffles in the thin cotton material and tried to push her weight to her left to break out of his arms.

It didn't work.

Ashton wasn't about to let her try and walk or indeed stumble away when he didn't know what the problem was and something was clearly frightening and worrying her. He needed to know what was going on. He had to know what (Y/n) was panicked about and see if it was something he could easily help resolve.

He tightened his hold on her arms and stepped to the side, keeping (Y/n) stood in front of him and when she tried to push into his chest, he pressed his feet firmly into the floor and held his ground.

"Hey, talk to me, it's okay. Tell me what's going on… you can't what?" He lowered his voice but tried to stay as calm as his rising panic would allow him.

But it was as if (Y/n) couldn't even hear him. Her hands pushed against his biceps but he couldn't work out whether she was attempting to push him away, or trying to cling to him and yank him closer.

They moved like repelling magnets, pushing and wavering against one another until Ashton realised a second too late what was about to happen.

The spots in front of (Y/n)'s eyes faded into a black veil that drowned out everything. Her lungs ceased working like they had given up, drowning in utter panic that had stuck her body in between fight or flight until she just shut down.

Her head bashed against Ashton's shoulder with a thud that sent his nervous system jolting and he had to bend and brace his knees to steady them both when her weight dropped against him in the next second. He let go of her elbows to quickly bind his arms around her waist, gluing her chest up against his to stop her from hitting the floor with a bang.

"Fuck!"

When she was braced against his chest, Ashton lowered himself down to his knees and pulled her along with him. He tried to be as gentle as possible as he lowered (Y/n) down and turned her around until her back was against his chest so he wasn't smothering her against his frame.

"Do you need me to call-"

"No, no. Just, just give me two minutes?"

Michael looked dubious and he could already see Luke and Calum shooting up to try and aim their way, but he nodded. (Y/n) had passed out but she was already trying to move and come back around; it was most likely because she hadn't been breathing properly in her panic and barely took in any oxygen.

When he took a few steps to the side, Michael motioned to the others to sit back down. If Ashton wanted some space with (Y/n) then that's what they would do until he asked for help or for an ambulance or whatever he thought (Y/n) would need.

"Baby… (Y/n), are you with me?"

He couldn't figure out whatever incoherent words (Y/n) tried to mutter, but at least she was coming back into focus and back to reality again. Ashton sat forward a little more to try and sit (Y/n) up, letting her head drop back on his shoulder while she scraped in enough oxygen to get her mind working again.

"Tell me what's going on." It almost sounded like he was pleading with her, and he supposed he was, because he didn't understand.

His arms looped beneath hers to hug her tight to his chest while he perched his chin on her shoulder and waited for some signal or audible sentence to loop him in on whatever the problem was.

He could feel each sharp breath (Y/n) took like she was about to make herself pass out again from pure panic. He tried to mellow his own breathing and take deep breaths to get her to copy him and do the same.

But as Ashton watched her, he found himself digging his fingers sharply into (Y/n)'s waist when he watched her shaking hand move to press over her abdomen. When her hand stayed there, pressing down until he was sure she was hurting herself, he took a sharp breath until his heart clenched and his lungs felt like they had been pierced with a needle.

"Are- are you pregnant?" The words wouldn't come out any louder than a crackling, broken whisper that he really didn't want to ask.

The nod of her head was enough to make Ashton's stomach surge up into his throat until he was sure he was either going to join her and pass out, or throw up his lunch.

He swallowed down his rising panic until he was gasping for a proper breath and his arms were so tightly imbedded around (Y/n)'s waist that he was sure his elbows were going to leave marks on her waist. But he had to move, they had to get up.

He pushed from his knees to his feet, lifting (Y/n) with him even though her legs were shaking and he wasn't quite sure if she could hold herself up. They needed to move; they needed to do something. Sitting here wasn't an option after learning news like that.

"Then we're going to the hospital. Now."

***

"Everything's okay?"

Even though it was Ashton who spoke, he took the words right out of (Y/n)'s mouth.

He had done quite a bit of the talking since they got here, and (Y/n) was grateful for that. It felt like her mind was constantly trying to shut down and that was all she wanted. She wanted to close her eyes and have the world right itself, have her body reboot so that when she opened them again, everything would be okay. It would all be sorted out.

She'd barely been able to find her voice when the midwife asked how far along she was or when the bleeding had started, because Ashton didn't have the answers for that.

(Y/n) found the will to lift her head so she wasn't looking at her hands anymore and was in fact looking up at the midwife. Though her left hand stayed deadlocked in Ashton's; unwilling to let go since the moment they were brought into this room.

"The medication we gave earlier has stopped the bleeding, which was thankfully minimal. Baby's heartbeat is within normal range, everything looks okay, I don't think there's a reason to panic anymore."

It felt like a mistake. (Y/n) felt like she was being set up for failure, that she was being given another round of false hope like when she took that pregnancy test for the third time. But this couldn't be wrong; the midwife could't be wrong.

She had take bloods, just done an ultrasound which (Y/n) could see with her own eyes. And they'd heard the heartbeat which had brought Ashton to tears and turned his face almost the same shade of crimson as Michael's hair.

Everything truly was okay. All those little mantras and prayers and hopes (Y/n) had been muttering to herself this morning, everything she had tried to tell herself since she found out about the pregnancy, it had all come true. It had all worked out okay, at least up to now.

And Ashton knew; granted, she hadn't been able to tell him in the way she had been hoping and planning to, but at least this time it hadn't ended in tears.

"You'll need an hour or two on observation, but then the doctor should be able to discharge you and send you home."

Neither of them were quite sure that going home felt like such a good idea so soon after a fright like that. Just because the bleeding had stopped now, didn't mean that it wouldn't come back. They hadn't been very lucky when it came to these kind of scenarios. But if the doctor said (Y/n) was fine to go home, they could hardly refuse and sit here waiting on the off chance that something bad might happen.

(Y/n) almost didn't hear the nurse when she murmured "I'll give you both some time alone," with such a kind tone that (Y/n) almost began to cry. Again.

Though she sat forward, (Y/n) couldn't lift her gaze from her hand that was entwined with Ashton's. He was gripping her hand so hard that his knuckles had gone pure white and she was sure he wouldn't be able to feel his fingers anymore. The grip must have been settling for him though because he hadn't let go yet, and it was comforting to (Y/n) which was why she held back almost as tightly.

Her eyes followed the veins tracing the back of Ashton's hand, observing them like they were roads on a map with an unknown destination.

She couldn't move her gaze away from those protruding veins when she heard him shifting and suddenly he was sat on the very edge of the chair, his feet tapping and bouncing away against the floor like he was sat behind his drumkit once again. He gave a sharp squeeze to her hand, but she still couldn't manage to look at him, which made him sigh.

He pulled their entwined hands so they were no longer resting on her lap and were now held hear his chest so he could press a soft kiss to the back of her knuckles.

"How long have you known?" There was no insinuation or upset in his voice, just genuine curiosity and the slightest hint of hesitation.

Because he hadn't known. He had been oblivious to (Y/n)'s nerves, to her panic and concern about this situation and all the possibilities. He wanted to know how long he had been oblivious for and how long he should have been realising something was up.

"Just over three weeks."

She caught the way his shoulders slumped from the corner of her eye, and it made her chest constrict.

"You didn't tell me." It wasn't clear whether that was just a statement of the obvious or whether he was trying to ask her some sort of question. Either way, (Y/n) finally lifted her gaze to look him in the eye.

She had told him before, the previous two times. She told him straight away, showed him the tests, watched him laugh, let him hold her when she cried from relief and panic combined. But this time he didn't know, he hadn't been told straight away, and something about that made Ashton's heart splinter.

"I was- I was waiting, to make sure…"

"…to make sure you didn't miscarry again?" When he finished the sentence for her and (Y/n) nodded, Ashton tried to force away the tears threatening to spill over.

He didn't want (Y/n) to think that she had to shield him, that she couldn't tell him in case she did miscarry and that hurt him. It would have broken him more if she had lost the baby and he had no idea in the first place. She didn't have to shield him from anything or hide things from him to try and make it easier for him. That wasn't how this relationship worked. Ashton was here for her, through everything.

(Y/n) tilted her head back when Ashton suddenly stood up, but he kept tight hold of her hand with their palms feeling like they were suctioned together.

Her eyes followed him as he sat down on the side of the bed so that their hips were touching and he had one boot propped up on the chair he had just vacated.

He brought their joined hands to rest on his thigh while he sat forward until his temple was touching hers and (Y/n) had nowhere else to look but into those pupils that were burning and flickering with sparkles of light like a kalediscope.

"Please don't shield me from anything; you don't need to worry about me. Or worry at all, okay?"

(Y/n) could feel pins and needles sparking through her blood right down to her toes when Ashton's free hand reached out to cup her face and his thumb traced the corner of her mouth and down her chin. She found herself nodding against his palm.

She might have done it to try and save him any worry or pain, but it hadn't been fair to him or to herself, to worry alone and let him be oblivious. They were in this together, they did things as a unit, (Y/n) didn't have to do things alone or worry by herself.

He blinked once then twice before smiling slightly. A woman came rushing down the aisle, looking frantic and annoyed all at once. Michael figured she was probably who you were hiding from. Once she disappeared into another part of the store you poked your head up over the shopping cart.

"Phew! That was a close one." You smiled over at Michael. He stared at you with big eyes, not sure what to say. You glanced into the cart and spotted a game that caught your eyes. "Ooo! You're getting Twister, I love that game!"

"Really?" Michael's eyes filled with excitement.

"Mhm! But I never really have anyone to play with. My nanny is ancient and my dolls are too small to play." You kicked an imaginary rock. Michael thought for a moment. He wanted to invite you to play with him, but his words got caught in his throat. Lucky for him, you weren't afraid of being forward. "Hey, I've got an idea! We should play together!"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

From that moment on, you and Michael became an inseparable duo. Where there was one, the other was surely close by. You were the perfect balance, Michael was the calm, you were the storm.

Michael liked having someone by his side that was so sure of themselves, that spoke how they wanted, that wasn't afraid to speak their mind. He enjoyed that about you. If you were tired, you would simply tell him. If you thought there was something on his mind, you would ask him directly.

You gave Michael a boost of confidence to stand up for himself. As the two of you grew older, you stayed by Michael's side, encouraging him to go for what he wanted. You were there to reassure him that he could do a solo album, that he was more than capable of being on his own.

For you, Michael was the person that soothed you. When you were around him, things suddenly weren't as loud. Michael made you feel like everything would be okay as long as you had him. He made you feel at peace, he calmed the thoughts swirling in your head.

You both leaned on each other, you understood each other on a level deeper than people realized. Which was what made the feelings brewing so much more difficult. Michael had been infatuated with you since he met you, but it was harder for him to pinpoint the moment when the infatuation shifted into love. Maybe it had happened gradually, maybe it was there the whole time.

All he knew is that one day he was watching you as you spoke about some janky physics project and he realized that he was looking at you with more than adoration. He was looking at you with pure love. The kind of love that couldn't be mistaken for friendly love. No, as he watched you he found himself wondering what it would be like to hold your hand with locked fingers. He wondered what it would feel like to hug you and not pull away after 3 seconds, what it would feel like to simply hold you and breathe you in.

Unlike Michael, you knew the exact moment you had fallen deeply in love with him. You remembered it down to the word he spoke. You had been in his room, sat on his bed with your homework on your lap. Algebra 3 had been a pain in your ass the whole year, and now was no different. You had been bent over the paper for nearly 2 hours while Michael reorganized his music. Every now and then he would glance over at you to see how you were doing, and he watched as your face progressively twisted with more and more stress. At the 3 hour mark, he couldn't take it anymore. He stood and marched over to the bed, swiping the homework from your lap, ignoring your confused shouts. He walked with the notebook keeping it out of your reach as you jumped for it.

You stared at him in disbelief. "Michael, I need to finish my work!"

He shook his head, "No you need a break from your work. Any longer and you might burst a blood vessel."

"Michael! I'm almost done with it, give it back." You tried to swipe it from his hands. He held it up.

"No, you're done for the night. I won't have a piece of paper taking away my time with my girl." He jumped up and placed the notebook on the top of his bookshelf.

You stopped in your tracks, the words making your brain malfunction. You blinked slowly as he turned to you with a smile, not a clue of how much his words had impacted you. He flopped onto his bed with a happy sigh. "I just don't like seeing you so stressed out, it's not normal. I like seeing you with a smile on your face way more, it suits you better."

A simple action and a couple sweet words and you were a goner. You had been a goner since. But nothing could pull the truth from you. You cared too much about his friendship, and the idea of it being spoiled because you opened your mouth made you physically sick.

Similarly, Michael couldn't stand the thought of you being disgusted with him for his feelings. The last thing he ever wanted to do was make you uncomfortable with his love for you, so his lips stayed shut.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Feelings had been building for years, growing in small glances that lasted too long, and touches that felt too intimate to be friendly. Michael had never been shy of showing affection, especially with those he was comfortable around. But his affection towards you seemed to be on a steep incline. Hugs lasted longer, hands wrapped around your waist instead of your mid back. His hands would linger on your sides as he pulled away from you. His eyes seemed to track you in every room, following the sway of your hips. He would place 'friendly' kisses on your cheek that bordered close to the corner of your mouth. He would smush up against you on the couch, knees and shoulders touching yours.

And yet, not a single word led to a confession. On paper, the two of you were still best friends. But that label was slowly starting to peel away, the both of you inching closer and closer to ripping it off. This had been years in the making now, everyone knew it. Everyone could see that the feeling was mutual, everyone but you two idiots.

Despite the constant reassurance from everyone around him, Michael couldn't bring himself to risk everything he had built with you. Not when his career was taking off and more and more people were trying to worm their way into his life. He needed you more than ever before. He needed you to be the person he could count on to tell him how it is. He needed someone who would say no to him.

When Michael asked if you wanted to go to Studio 54 with him, he had told himself that it was a good idea. He told himself that you would finally be able to let loose after a particularly painful week full of tests and labs at college. You took him up on the offer, excited for the drinks, but just wanting to be with your friend.

The ride to the club was exciting. You kept yanking and pulling at Michael's arm, telling him how excited you were to go to such a famous place. Michael smiled to himself, proud that he had been the source of your excitement. Only when he saw Q's eyebrows wiggle did he realize he had been holding your hand the whole ride.

Scared of his feelings being revealed, he shook off your hand. You stilled slightly, pulling your hand back into your lap with a small frown. You tried not to let the small action get the best of you, but you couldn't help the twinge of disappointment.

The club was electric, people moving fluidly with one another, music floating through the air. Lights bounced around the room, fanning out across the crowd, illuminating the pure ecstacy radiating around the room. It was magical. You jumped up and down with excitement, this time keeping your hands to yourself.

Michael watched you with a smile, finally letting himself admire you fully. He had kept his eyes to himself in the car, fearful of you catching him. But now, with everything going on, he could fully admire you. His eyes trailed up your whole body, scanning the sparkly, eccentric, two piece fit you had chosen. His eyes scanned the bare skin of your thigh and stomach that you had dusted with glitter. You were a vision right out of his dreams.

You turned to him with the biggest smile, "This is so cool!"

He laughed, leaning in close so he could talk to you properly. "Isn't it? Why don't you go dance? I can get us some drinks?" He offered.

You nodded and dashed onto the dance floor. Michael laughed and shook his head, making his way to the bar. Quincy followed him, a knowing smile on his face.

"I don't know why you don't say nothin."

Michael eyed him, "Not sure what you're talking about."

"That girl's clearly over the moon for you." He glanced over at you.

Michael shook off the thought, "It's not like that with us."

"Could be if you'd just tell her the truth." Q patted his back and disappeared into the crowd.

Michael stopped at the bar, head and heart pounding at the thought of finally telling you how he feels. As he waited for the drinks he cast a glance at the dance floor, eyes finding you easily. God, you looked so beautiful, so carefree, so you. The sight made his heart skip a beat. Tonight was going to be a long night, especially if his thoughts kept wondering what it would feel like with your body against his. He had a feeling he would be at the bar more than he would like to admit.

You smiled as Michael made his way over to you with two drinks in his hand. You took yours from his hand, kissing his cheek as a thank you. For a while, the two of you danced like crazy people, not really caring about the crowd around you. If people were staring at the famous man in front of you, you were blissfully unaware. All that mattered to you was that your best friend was here with you, the two of you sharing this once in a lifetime experience.

Your drinks disappeared fast, Michael taking the empty glasses and placing them somewhere before dancing his way back to you. The alcohol mixed with the music was a dangerous combo for him, especially with you looking like that. You smiled brightly at his return, reaching for him. He stood with you, the crowd slowly pushing the two of you together. You shook your head wildly, letting it bop with the rhythm. Michael wanted nothing more than to take your face in his hands and kiss you just like the other couple around him were doing.

You opened your eyes to find him staring at you with burning desire. Your mind felt fuzzy with excitement, maybe he really did feel the same. You spoke his name softly, the sound somehow reached his ears in the loud club. You looked up at him with hopeful eyes, a sight that nearly destroyed him. You were so close, chest practically pressed up against his, face merely inches from his own.

He swore he almost gave in. He was so close to closing that gap, to finally pulling you in. But instead, he felt his mouth go dry with fear. He spoke loudly, "I'll be right back, I'm gonna go get another drink!"

You frowned but nodded, "Okay, come back to me."

He nearly tripped as he fled from you. He cursed himself the entire way to the bar. Maybe the drinks would give him the confidence he needed. Two shots deep he finally turned back to look at you. Only to find now you weren't alone. A rather handsome looking man had taken his place, making you laugh as he danced with you.

Michael needs a lot more drinks.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

You waited and waited for him to come back, passing the time by dancing with some nice people. A few seemed interested, and maybe you should've given them a shot, but they weren't Michael. The thought alone made you realize that you were done hiding behind the word friend. You and Michael were close enough that if he told you no, things could stay the same. But you at least had to try.

You set off looking for him, scanning the dance floor. You roamed the club, eyes darting around frantically. You asked people if they had seen the famous star, all of them giving you different places. Somehow he had managed to disappear into the club. You searched the bottom floor multiple times, worry growing each time you came up empty handed. It wasn't until your 4th sweep of the top floor that you found him. Or he found you, well ran into you was a better way of putting it.

Michael stumbled right into your chest, looking up at you with glassy eyes. He gasped, "There you are!! Wow, you're really pretty." He slurred.

Your eyes widened. Never had you ever seen Michael this wasted. "Oh my god, you're so drunk."

He laughed and nodded, "I'm soooo drunk."

You placed his arm around your shoulder, "Alright, let's go back to the hotel."

"What no! We should dance. I wanna dance with you!" He leaned into your side.

"Yeah well, I was waiting on the floor for you for like an hour." You helped him through the crowd.

He pouted, "You were? I'm sorry." His eyes looked watery.

"It's fine, Mike. Let's just get back to the room." You pushed away your disappointment.

Getting Michael in the car was surprisingly easy. He happily dived in after you. It gave you hope that maybe it would be easy to get him in the bed. That hope was very very misguided. The second you got to the hotel, he suddenly didn't want to leave the car. You ended up bribing him with his aviators. Dangling them outside the car door, which compelled him to leap out after them. You caught him and thanked the driver. He snatched them from your hands, putting them on his face with a triumphant smile. You quickly grabbed his arm and tugged him inside the building. Drunk Michael was apparently very interested in interior design and architecture because he stopped every 2 feet to examine an end table or a fancy archway.

"Michael, please! Stop looking at the damn lampshade and get in the elevator!" You begged him. You had called down the elevator at least 3 times, each time it came he would suddenly be captured by some small detailing.

He looked at you, sunglasses hanging low on his nose. "It's a wonderful lampshade."

The door dinged and you rushed towards him. You grabbed his arm and heaved him onto your back, carrying him into the elevator before he could get down.

He scrambled down, frowning at you before his eyes darted to all the little buttons for each floor. You glared at him. "Michael I swear to God if you press-"

He lunged forward, hitting every single one of them. You thought you were going to kill him. He smiled over at you, the smile fading when he saw how mad you were. "I'm sorry, I was only playing. Don't be mad, baby." He came over to you, wrapping you in his arms, head burying into your neck. You stiffened, mind racing.

You didn't know what to think, what to do, what to say. This felt like a sick game. Here he was being an absolute menace and then turning around and saying things that had you questioning everything. You sighed, "It's fine, let's just get you to bed, Mikey."

He hummed, holding you tighter. "I love it when you call me that."

The rest of the ride up to your floor was silent, save for your heavy breathing mixed with Michael's happy sighs. When you finally got to your room, you helped him in, setting him on the bed as you went to get his pajamas.

His eyes trailed you. He couldn't help but imagine this scenario in a different light. A light where he wasn't drunk, a light where this was a regular night between the two of you. The two of you getting ready for bed together, you in cute pajamas and cuddled into his side.

You handed him his change of clothes before helping him into the restroom. Once he was changed he let you place him in bed, brushing his curls out of his face, eyes gentle and loving. He watched you intensely, which made you incredibly nervous.

"Will you lay with me?" He asked.

You eyed him, "Mmh, I'm not sure, Michael."

"Please? Just until I fall asleep? You make me comfortable." He looked up at you with those big doe eyes.

You silently got in beside him. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His head settled into the crook of your neck again, taking a deep inhale of your scent. He sighed happily, his breath sending chills down your spine.

"You're really amazing, y'know. You make me so happy. You're always real with me, you treat me like a real person. And you're so beautiful, smart and kind. I dunno how such a perfect person can exist." He spoke softly.

Your breathing became heavy. "Stop, Michael."

"I can't. I've tried. But no matter what, I can't stop loving you."

The words landed hard against your chest, your breath catched. You didn't say anything, you just let him hold you. You felt the way he relaxed into you, falling asleep peacefully.

You on the other hand, were awake the whole night, thought running at a hundred miles an hour. You managed to get 3 hours of sleep before the sunlight cast across your face.

Your eyes fluttered open, only to find Michael sat up in the bed. He rubbed his eyes and held his head. "What happened?"

You stared at him, heart aching. "You don't remember?"

He shook his head, reaching for the glass of water you had placed on the nightstand the night before. "No, just that I had way too many drinks." He laughed.

You looked away, "Yeah, not much, you're just a menace to society when you're drunk."

He laughed, "Yikes, that bad?"

"Well I did have to lure you out of the car with your sunglasses, so yeah." You stood up, back to him so he couldn't see the disappointment written on your face.

He laughed, "Well, it's all good, you got me here."

You nodded, heading for the door. "Mhm. I'm going to my room."

He frowned, hearing the distance in your voice. "You okay?"

"Yup, see you in a bit." You didn't wait for his response before you walked out and to your room across the hall.

Michael sat in the bed, staring at the door. His stomach dropped violently. Something was wrong, and he didn't know what. He decided he'd give you an hour before he would ask.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

An hour proved to be torture for Michael. He kept glancing at the clock, mind racing with nervous thoughts. He gave in at the 45 minute mark, marching across the hall and into your room.

He found you curled up in your bed, looking distantly at the tv. He made his way over, shifting into the spot next to you.

"Tell me what happened."

You frowned. "Nothing happened."

"That's clearly not true." He placed a hand on your shoulder.

"I don't want to talk about it." You spoke quietly.

"Please? I hate seeing you like this."

You sat up swiftly, turning on him. "Alright, you wanna know what happened? What happened was you left me alone the whole night to get drunk. Made it hell getting you back. And then told me you loved me, only to wake up the next morning to not remember any of it!"

Michael felt his heart drop. "I said I loved you?" You nodded, arms crossed. Michale mistook your sadness for disgust in his confession. "Oh, God. I'm sorry. I should have never said that."

Your eyes stung with tears. "You can't say shit like that, Michael! How do you think that makes me feel? Hearing that you didn't mean those words when that's what I've been waiting to hear!"

His head snapped up, "What?"

You wiped at your tears. "That's not a joke to me."

"I do love you!" He cut you off, hands cupping your face. He stared at you with wide eyes. "I do love you. I'm sorry it came out like that, but it's true."

You searched his face for any trace of a lie. There was none. You sniffled, leaning closer. "I love you too."

He broke out into a wide smile. "I wanna kiss you so bad."

You laughed lightly and moved closer. "Then do it."

He wasted no time, pulling your face to his. His lips captured yours with a sweet eagerness. Your lips moved with his in harmony, the rhythm coming naturally. His hands settled on your waist, pulling you closer. You cupped his face, kissing him with a gentle reverence.

When you pulled away you hugged him tightly as he kept whispering 'I love you' into your shoulder. You pulled back slightly. "I love you too, but I swear to God if you keep confessing things while drunk I'll mess you up."

He smiled, "No, next time I want to remember your beautiful face when I tell you something important."

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