#kai-centric

his personal mobile phone is vibrating on the piles of paper on his desk, ignored.

--

when everything finally, finally, settles down, and his client is content and happy in the meeting room sipping tea daintily, jongin then registers the twenty eight missed calls on his phone. they're from family members, friends, but mostly from kyungsoo. he doesn't need to call back, to realize what's happened, and immediately bolts out of his office, heart thundering.

he runs down the fire exit stairs because it's quicker that way, skipping steps just to be that much faster, and hails a cab once he's out of the building.

he's panting and sweat is wetting the collar of his starched white shirt when he skids to a halt at the end of the corridor. he can see the nursery, just ahead, with it's bright murals and colorful toys and the room with the big glass window where the newborns are kept.

suddenly his whole body quakes with fear, deep, irrational fear that won't go away. questions like what the hell did i agree to and what if i suck at this whole father thing and what if the kid hates me plagues his mind. he's afraid, even though he'd sounded so sure and confident when kyungsoo proposed the idea months ago.

we'll be great, you and me, he had said.

a nurse stops by and looks at him curiously.

"can i help you, sir?" she asks politely.

he stares at her for a few seconds, brain still in standstill, but eventually replies, "um, yeah. i-- i want to see my newborn child. born about three hours ago, i think."

"oh, you are do kyungsoo-ssi's partner, the one who's going to adopt ms. kim's baby?"

he nods dumbly, and the nurse smiles, gesturing to the nursery.

"they're in there," she says, smile widening, and leaves with a friendly pat on his arm. jongin swallows.

he doesn't know how he got there but the next minute he's already standing outside the glass window, peering in into the cots and their tiny, sleeping occupants. as his eyes passes by each baby his chest seizes, and when he gets to the second row the anxiety is back, so jongin steps back and tries to regain his breathing.

when he looks up again he is surprised to see kyungsoo's back facing him. he must have been standing behind the pillar, so jongin couldn't see him at first. kyungsoo is bobbing, shaking his head and occasionally throwing it back to laugh. his arms are curled to the front of his body, and jongin starts panicking again.

but this is his responsibility too, he had agreed to it, and he's not a coward, kim jongin is anything but, he tells himself. so he tries to calm his erratic heartbeats (in vain), and steps into the nursery.

it's warm inside, the buzzing of the incubators calm, the pale blue light soothing. bundles of tiny, newborn humans are everywhere, each one a miracle and special, but jongin only has eyes for the one held in kyungsoo's arms, when he turns to the sound of jongin entering the room.

it's a girl, was jongin's first conscious thought, and she has thick dark hair atop her small round head already. her skin is wrinkly, at some places flaky, and her eyes are still shut. there's a rustle of movements, and a tiny, tiny hand peeks out, reaching out, as if reaching for him.

jongin's throat constricts and his heart swells as he takes wide strides to the little girl who has none of their features but all of their hearts. he stops in front of kyungsoo, standing awkwardly and unsure of what to do.

there are tear-tracks running down kyungsoo's face, and he's crying again, as he carefully places the baby to jongin's arms with the widest smile he has ever seen.

she's feather light, he notes sourly, and pledges to himself to feed her as much as he can so she'll grow to a pretty young girl. the baby yawns, and jongin loses his heart to the being in his arms, the small inhale the baby takes and the way she smacks her lips almost contentedly endearing.

he wants to cry, because this is his family, whole and complete now, but kyungsoo's cried enough for both of them, so jongin gives the baby back to kyungsoo and holds them both in the circle of his arms, careful not to squish his-- their daughter in the middle.