#stillborn

Omega!Makarov knew you couldn’t wait for pups. He couldn’t, either; after he settled with you, and found himself imagining himself pregnant. Hand idly rubbing his stomach more often than not.

And, by chance, he gets his wish. He becomes pregnant. In no time at all, he starts to prepare for the pup. A nursery is built; only the best craftsman are taken on to build the crib, to paint the nursery bright colors. There are toys, there are books. He reads the parenting books front to back and fusses over every minuscule detail that the nursery contains.

When he’s not in his office, you find him in the nursery, sitting in the rocking chair with a hand on his belly.

Everything was going great. Better than great. Makarov was healthy, the baby was healthy.

Until the baby stopped kicking around week twenty-five. Neither of you want to face the inevitable; neither of you want to realize that your baby will never be brought home.

But you have to. You and Makarov get to a private hospital, and there his labor is induced. The one mercy this cold night offers is a somewhat simple birth. The baby boy comes out.

Yet the room is painfully quiet. Everyone’s holding their breath, praying that this tiny baby would breathe. Scream. Everyone knew it was impossible.

The tiny body simply had no voice.

You and Makarov are kept in a private wing. The nurses clean your baby, dress him in a onesie, and provide the two of you a basket of small keepsakes- prints of your baby’s feet, a blanket with the baby’s last name embroidered, and a small hat.

When you and Makarov get home, he locks the nursery door. You don’t ask him about it; not when you plan out a way to bury a child you never got to know.

Months pass. Makarov does not unlock the nursery. Leaves everything untouched, exactly as it was before he lost the pup.