Leo froze. His stomach lurched, like a moving roller coaster had suddenly stopped; for all he knew, the world had.

He stared down at the pregnancy test in his trembling hands, wide eyes focused on the two red lines; one faint, one not. He swallowed thickly and with some trouble, wondering if he went to sleep he'd wake up and it'd all be a dream.

He'd known it.

Ever since those few nights, when his heat and your rut aligned, he'd fucking known it. Waking up in the mornings and trying to hide his nausea from you, going to the bathroom and throwing up on the pretense he was just taking a piss. Sleepless nights, cramps, snapping at you then feeling like shit about it after, and his pecs fucking hurt?

But the worst part about it was how he felt. He was torn. He had made a promise to himself, to never have a baby, never let anyone violate his body like that.

You didn't violate his body. You respected his body.

But still; how could he just let go of something he had kept close to his heart for a decade?

Leo pursed his lips. He would hate himself if he ever got rid of life, he knew it, and internally, his instincts were content, happy; excited, even.

He hated this.

Fuck.

Just then, the sound of the front door opening reached his ears.

Leo's stomach dropped and hit the floor with a wet, ugly splat.

He clenched the pregnancy test in his fist, stiff as a board. He had to tell you. He had to.

Without giving himself any more time to think, he called out, voice trembling: "You?" His voice cracked. He cleared his throat shakily before continuing. "Can you come in here? I have something to tell you." He was in the bathroom, back facing the door. He didn't turn around, not yet. He didn't know if he could look at you when he was saying it.