Dad Fic - Tumblr Posts
* tilts sunglasses down * Heyo, what’s up, gamers ? Another Danganronpa fic for you guys, but now with a Canon x Canon pairing ?? Yeah, it’s a Rarepair, but it’s now my comfort ship, so it would be cool if I could find other shippers out there, and hopefully you guys enjoy ?? Comments and Kudos about the work are fully, and totally accepted !! 💕
Yeah. ✨
* tilts sunglasses down * Heyo, what’s up, gamers ? Another Danganronpa fic for you guys, but now with a Canon x Canon pairing ?? Yeah, it’s a Rarepair, but it’s now my comfort ship, so it would be cool if I could find other shippers out there, and hopefully you guys enjoy ?? Comments and Kudos about the work are fully, and totally accepted !! 💕
rainy day ༊*·˚
m.list ◦ askbox
synopsis: it’s a rainy day and you are bored, so you decide to watch a movie with your kids
It was a rainy day; the world blurred. A dusty sky with its veiled hush was covering like a blanket the already dead calm.
Your stare was fixed at the window, watching droplets drip down, as young winds whispered at the glass surface. A huge smokey shadow covered the buildings around, deepening their color, while showering the trees at the glistering road, pattering sharply on their leaves.
No one had warned you about the sudden change of weather in the middle of summer.
It was one of those days, calendars blank and empty and telephones off. You could go nowhere because of the weather and you could do nothing but keep watching this otherworldly winter unravelling in front of you.
Earlier Timothée was so bored that he asked you to cut his hair - just a little - and you made him cut yours back. And now you both sat at the kitchen table, eating some leftover spaghetti while discussing your upcoming vacation.
It was mysteriously cold, so cold that Timothée took off his sweater and offered it to you. Wet hair was pinching your neck and hands were deeply buried in the sleeves, trapped between dark blue knots. You were both so tired and bored, eyes almost closing. The only light that entered the room was these faint altered rays, lining the furniture and making shadows jump up and down.
Flip-flops clapping against the floor broke the hypnotizing atmosphere. Before your eyes even turned to the door, you both knew that those little steps belonged to your daughter, Irene. She was always running, as if someone was chasing her.
« Baby ! », Timothée called her in a melodious tone. He pressed his lips into a grin when she popped at the door.
« Hello ! », you opened your mouth into a surprised smile.
« I’m bored ! », she whined desperately.
« Bored ? », he asked, like he just heard the craziest conspiracy theory, and stood up from his chair to open the lights.
The room burst with blinding rays, so blinding that you had to squint your eyes.
« Yeah, » she pouted her mouth and raised her hands in Tim’s direction. He took her in his arms, letting her claw tight onto his chest, fingers slowly drifting on the back of his neck and fumbling on the silver chain that hung around him.
« What do you wanna do ? », he whispered in her ear, his lips brushing on her shoulder.
« I don’t know, » Irene mumbled.
You couldn’t restrain your smile, and even though you didn’t participate in that sweet father-daughter moment, you felt your heart steeping pure happiness. And suddenly, you were alive, and awake, and full of energy. The same spark that appeared in your eyes, you could see it in Timothée’s as well. It was magical how your kids could change your entire mood by just appearing in a room and whining about being bored.
« You don’t know ? », Tim asked softly, pulling some roots of hair behind her ears. « We can do something all together. Mom and I are bored too. »
« Ren, where is your brother ? », you asked then. She slightly raised her eyes at you and shrugged.
« Don’t know, » she mumbled with her sweet childish voice and then breathed out heavily. « I’m bored ! » Tim let her sit on the kitchen counter as he moved to make some coffee. « Mom, I’m bored ! »
« Okay, what do you want to do ? We could play a board game, all four of us. »
« We always play board games when it’s raining, » she pouted her lips again, arms hugging herself and feet kicking the air. « And Marc always wins... »
« What are you all doing here ? »
« There he is, my sweet boy ! », Timothée turned his head back.
« Hi, » eyes scanned all of you.
« Come here, love, » you opened your arms. Marc walked closer leaning his back on the table beside you. He looked at you for a while before speaking.
« It’s nice, » he said, his fingers moving to your hair. « Did you cut it ? »
« Yes, daddy helped me cut it. It’s nice, isn’t it ?», you smiled and planted a kiss on his skin. You heard Timothée chuckle in the background as Irene gasped, rushing to get back down at her feet.
« Hey, careful there, » Tim said. She ran to you and started touching your hair, twirling pieces and playing with them. Gradually she took a seat in your lap and you brought her closer until her head nestled on your chest just like when she was a baby. Your hand pulled your boy close into a tight hug and your mouth touched his forehead.
« Ah mom ! », he groaned trying to set himself free.
« Oh, don’t play it so tough, I know you love hugs, » you kissed him again all over the face, laughing at his failed attempts to free himself before he actually managed to escape.
« I don’t need hugs ! », Marc groaned.
« You don’t ? », you ruffled his hair. « Dad cut his hair too, you know. » They both turned to him.
« Dad, dad, can I see ? », Irene asked excitedly.
« It’s just the edges, baby. Nothing noticeable, » Tim answered to Irene, pulling his hair back.
« I want to cut my hair too ! Dad, will you cut my hair ? »
« There’s no way I’m cutting your hair, » Timothée replied with no hesitation. « If you want to, we can call the hairdresser tomorrow and... »
« But you cut mom’s, why not mine ? »
« Isn’t it better if we go to a professional ? », he asked her, walking closer to you. « I don’t want to accidentally ruin your hair. »
« But mom’s hair is not ruined ! You’ll be careful. »
« Will you stop being such a baby ? », Marc popped up but she just stuck her tongue out at him and he imitated her move.
« Hey, hey, hey, guys, » you entered. « Be nice to each other. Come on, you are brother and sister. » They breathed out at your words and rolled their eyes. « So, » you clapped your hands together, trying to change the subject. « What are we going to do ? »
« We could watch a movie, » Tim suggested, slithering his arms around Marc’s shoulders.
« Yes ! », Marc looked up at him eyes wide.
« Yes ! Puss in Boots ! »
« No ! Not again ! »
« Okay, why don’t you go to the living room to pick a movie as I cut you some fruit ? », you let Irene to the ground.
« Okay ! », she kissed your cheek before storming out. « First one that goes to the living room picks the movie ! »
« Hey ! That’s not fair ! », Marc yelled following his sister’s steps. « Dad she cheated ! »
You glanced at Timothée as you stood up, his eyes still fixed on the door even when they disappeared, hoping for a small head to pop again and run in your arms.
« I love them so much but they’re crazy, » his words made you chuckle. He grinned, his stare following you as you moved to the counter to get some fruits. Tim helped you, getting the plates from the upper cupboards. « I feel a little guilty. Do you think I should’ve cut their hair ? Irene does need a haircut. Her hair is way too long. »
« No Timothée, you can’t always do what they want, » you replied focused on your work. « They literally have you wrapped around their little fingers. »
« Come on, » he leaned against the counter. You gave him a look that made him laugh. « Maybe just a little. » His fingers moved to your hair. « Your hair is still wet. » You touched his head, hand sliding down to his cheek.
« Yours too. » He grinned, stare fixed on you, watching your every move. Even if you felt his eyes you tried to ignore them.
« You need help ? », Tim asked then, coming closer, standing right next to you.
« No, love, » you replied. His arms circled around your body as he pressed his lips on your cheek. You giggled at the ticklish feeling of his cold fingers running under your sweater and around your stomach, causing small spasms in your waist. « I’m holding a knife ! »
« Then put the knife down and kiss me ! », he pinched your skin.
« Ah ! Okay ! Okay ! », you let it fall down.
You turned to him and cupped his face, bringing him down until his hair touched your forehead and his lips lingered close to yours. He tilted his head to the side, a sweet smile marked on his mouth. And with eyes closed, he kissed you softly and settling. When you separated you held his cheeks squeezed, and sprinkled kisses all around his face, making him let out the prettiest giggle.
« Why don’t you go and check on the kids ? », you asked.
« You don’t need help ? », he asked.
« No. »
« No ? You sure ? »
« Yeah, just take the coffee, please. »
Timothée stared at you for a few moments smiling fondly like he wanted to tell you something.
« Okay, » he pecked your cheek one last time, stroking your back on his way out.
« Found a movie ? » They both mumbled something in response, laying on the couch in front of the TV remote. « Irene, baby, turn your head, » Tim said. She listened, even though she was too focused on watching Marc changing the movies. He set her curls free and while balancing the scrunchie in between his teeth, he pulled them up high, out of her face.
« Not that one ! », passionately her voice echoed.
« Mars ? », he asked then.
Timothée loved your kids. He loved watching them, spending time with them, taking care of them. And the more they grew, the more he loved them. That’s why he couldn’t stand the view of his boy having both hands under his t-shirt, hugging his shoulders.
« Mmm... »
« Are you cold, baby ? »
« Just a little. »
« Want me to bring you a sweater ? »
« Yes, please. »
« Ren ? »
« I’m not cold. »
« Alright, » he lightly laughed, thinking how funny it must have looked that he just couldn’t sit for two seconds without having to stand up again.
A few moments later, you walked inside, taking a seat next to your kids.
« You picked a movie ? », you asked, leaving the plates on top of the table.
« Marc, Marc, Marc, Marc... », Irene held his arm and pointed at the TV.
« Ohh, there’s a new Spider-Verse movie ! », he looked at his sister. They both burst into giggles of excitement. You grinned at their reaction.
« We haven’t seen the first one, will we understand anything ? », you asked.
« Of course, mom, it’s Spider-Man ! », Irene said. « Don’t you know Spider-Man ? »
« Mom, I love this movie ! », Marc added. « We have to watch it. »
« Here I am, » you turned your head, watching Timothée stride towards you. You smiled. « What are we watching ? »
« Across the Spider-Verse. »
« Ooh, I’ve heard very good things about the movie. Let’s watch it, » he said before turning to Marc. « Hands up. » The boy raised his arms and Tim passed the sweater over his head. « Here’s the other arm, dummy. » He rubbed his knuckles against his head.
« Ah ! », Marc let out a painful groan with hair laying messily all around him. Timothée laughed and grabbed his head with both hands pressing a kiss on top of it and leaving a ‘mwah’ sound. He then got his feet on top of him, letting Marc lay on the couch more comfortably.
« Mom, can you hug me ? », Irene asked. You grinned and quickly opened your arms for her to tilt her head on your shoulder.
« Okay, let’s watch. »
apricity ༊*·˚
m.list ◦ askbox
synopsis: it’s been two years since you and timothée broke up but with a kid in the middle nostalgia is all over the air
It had been two years and life kept going without him.
With time, you came to accept your new reality and the fact that you would never be the same person as you once were.
But there were days when nostalgia covered your heart like a dark cloud stretching in the bright blue sky. Days, you remembered tangled hands, flushed cheeks, silent stares and warm smiles. Days you prayed to last forever.
You missed everything.
Whenever you were together, you were glowing. Everyone seemed to notice how brighter you looked, your hair, your eyes, your smiles. There were only sunny days for you, summer and spring anywhere you looked, as if the other was giving you life.
You were in love. You could feel it and so did everyone around you. No one had ever seen you like that, so carefree, so light, so happy, so warm, so easy to love.
You used to be inseparable; four arms, four legs, no faces for the world to see because you were always too busy looking at the other, blind for your surroundings.
But the day everything ended, you had never felt him more far away.
Your heart broke and with it promises, dreams and hopes for a future that never came.
You remembered your voice barely coming out, with eyes all welled up and swollen, trying to explain to him that you loved him but you couldn’t go on like this. Timothée had to be away for days, weeks, months, and then he returned for a while to golden the pill before he had to leave again. It wasn’t good for Marc to live in the eye of this craziness. Your kid needed his father and you needed him as well.
Your love had slowly turned into a one-sided contract. You had to give in order to receive. And you did. You changed your city to be with him, changed your job, left your parents behind and a whole life you had been building for years, only to spend more time apart than together.
You remembered him standing there, right in front of you, with cheeks red, once swelling with happiness, suddenly swelling with tears, shaky hands and chattering teeth, trying to understand you and promising that you could make it, everything would change if you gave him one more chance.
But you were irrevocable and very very tired.
The years passed by and Marc turned two, three, four. He vaguely remembered the two of you together apart from birthdays you’d plan, photographs in old albums and stories his grandparents and other members of the family would tell him.
He never really had a problem with you living separately; he got used to it, and it was kind of fun until some kids pointed that out and curiosity grew his need to know why you weren’t living in the same house, together like most parents, why he couldn’t have both of you, why, when you used to be so happy, so in love. What changed ? And was it so tragic ?
You had talked with Timothée about this and decided not to tell him anything. He was too young to understand. Maybe one day when he got older, you could have this conversation.
But Marc was stubborn and wouldn’t stop asking questions. You decided to do something about it, to soothe him and let him know that maybe you and his father lived separately but when it involved him you were together.
Tim came by your house every second Friday and he stayed to spend some time the three of you before taking Marc for the weekend - since Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays were his days. It was surreal at first, thankfully not as awkward as you expected, but you got used to it.
Truth was that you missed him and you felt painfully guilty every now and then, thinking of how things could’ve evolved between you. A tiny knife was twisting in your heart, slowly and bitterly, whispering with every twist words of nostalgia, telling you that you could’ve made it in the end and that you could’ve been like that every single day - only if you had been a little more patient and your ego hadn’t ruined everything.
Every time you looked at him, he was feeding your fantasy and the deepest spark of hope of ending up together eventually. But you had accepted that it wasn’t going to happen.
It was damn hope that was breaking him as well. If you missed him once, he missed you ten times more.
You left such an imprint on his heart, it was hard for him to ignore it and pretend it never existed. He looked for you everywhere, in all of his favourite places, in every person he met, trying to find your similarities and your differences. But no one’s love was like yours. Everyone was too sour, too rotten, too bitter.
He wanted you.
Two years in and he had completely lost himself in the past. The desire to turn the past into the present was boiling more and more each time he saw you. He wanted everything with you; happiness, elation, impatient expectancy, worry, idyllic calm, wrath, anger, despair, hurt, all those emotions, pure or ugly, the good and all bad counterparts, he wanted them with you.
Life went on.
It was winter, January, the weather harsh with biting cold ready to freeze off any uncovered parts. It was snowing after many years.
Down at the street, you looked like dark blurs against the backdrop of white.
It was the first time Marc saw snow and he wanted to go out and play one last time before falling asleep. You wouldn’t let him this late at night awake but you and Timothée also wanted to see it before everything melted the next morning.
« I don’t want to put this on ! », Marc whined, running away, hopping over ice ridges and kicking up the powdery snow under the faint, golden rays of square streetlights.
« Ah, got you ! », Timothée managed to pick him up after so much running. The boy tried to jump off his grasp while laughing uncontrollably as his father rubbed his nose against his and smeared kisses all over his face. « Stubborn little monkey. »
« Marcy, » you breathed out exhausted from all the chasing, holding his scarf, beanie and gloves. « Please, put them on, baby. »
« Ah, why ? », he threw his head back on his father as you crouched in front of him.
« Why ? », you asked in fake surprise, patiently swirling the scarf around him, one, two, three loops until his neck was completely covered and a part of his mouth as well, muffling his protests and laughs. « Because I want you to be warm… and healthy… », you cupped his cheeks and gave him a kiss. « With ears… » He giggled when you put on his beanie and adjusted it.
Timothée smiled sweetly at you.
He remembered how scared you were when you first found out that you were pregnant and how many nights he stayed awake and tried to gather your tears, reassuring you that you were going to be a great mother. You had many doubts but he had none.
It turned out, he was right. In fact, « great » was an understatement.
Very few parents would be as patient and caring as you. Timothée watched you crouched in front of Marc, trying to reach his height, taking his hands on yours and putting his gloves on while explaining with clear words that you wanted him strong and healthy so that he’d be able to run, and play, and do all the things he loved so much. Even when he threw the beanie off his head and ran away, you didn’t raise your tone to yell at him just let out a hushed chuckle.
« Never gonna catch me ! Never gonna win ! »
« Please, make him wear it, » you smiled with a painful grimace. Timothée looked at you as you shook away the snow from the cloth before passing it to him.
« Oh, don’t worry. He’ll put this on. »
« I don’t. » A boyish grin appeared on his lips.
« Dad ! », Marc stopped for a second, waiting for him to chase him.
« Oh, I’m coming ! I’m gonna get you ! », Tim said loud enough for Marc to leave a small scream and keep running. Timothée followed him quickly, jumping into frozen caps of snow. « I’m gonna get you ! », he cried and Marc burst out in laughter, giving him small glances on top of his shoulder.
You laughed, watching them chase one another, tossing small snowballs and slipping in the snow every now and then, until Tim caught up to him, caged him in his embrace and wore the beanie on his head, sliding it down until it reached his nose. Marc giggled deliriously as Timothée nudged him and tickled him, their laughter echoing louder and louder through the night, bringing warmth to your heart. He eventually helped him adjust his hat better.
« It scratches ! », Marc whined again.
« Why are you so stubborn ? », Tim nudged his side again.
« Dad ! Stop ! », he laughed. His feet suddenly slipped, and Timothée tried to catch him but Marc was sneaky and dragged him to the plush hills of snow. He climbed then on top of him with no breath. « Surender ? », Timothée huffed before raising his hands up, and nodded eagerly.
« Boys, y’alright ? », you asked with furrowed brows a bit concerned.
« Dad surrendered ! », Marc smiled at you, as you slowly approached them.
Marc tented his hand for you but when you gave it to him, he pulled you down just like he did with his father.
« You’re good ? », Tim turned to you.
« I’m good, » you muttered behind your teeth, trying to get up. Marc’s laughter was loud and clear in the back. « But this little monkey won’t be if I catch him. » He let out a yelp and quickly made his way back to the house, tossing snow out of his path.
« Let me help you, » you gave Tim your hand once you stood up. He looked at it for a second. « Don’t be so suspicious, » a smile appeared on your lips when you saw him chuckling. You rolled your eyes and looked away. « Offer just expired. » As you were about to take your hand back Timothée grabbed it and pulled you down right next to him.
« Ah ! Like father, like son ! » He laughed.
« Looks like he took something from me after all. »
« Something ? Tim, he looks exactly like you. » He grinned proudly at your words and you nodded eagerly. « It’s cunning. »
« And he has my mischievousness. » You smiled. « He’s a good kid, » he said as an afterthought. You looked at him for a moment before your stare fell down. The situation was tragicomic, it deserved a bitter smile.
« Yeah, he is, » you murmured.
Those little moments you spent together reminded you of how much you missed being next to him. You didn’t even have to talk, just sit in silence. It was painful knowing you’d never feel like that again without a hint of pain.
Timothée furrowed his brows, his eyes following you as you got up, and, this time without offering your hand, headed to the house.
He ran behind you, the sound of his boots sinking into the smooth surface making you smile. You turned to wait for him and once he reached you, he playfully touched the back of your neck with his bare hand. A long gasp escaped your mouth and your back arched, the cold transferring goosebumps down your spine. You pushed him away, mumbling all sorts of curses as he joined you inside laughing.
« Hands ? », you pointed at Marc who was bringing a pile of toys to the living room. Timothée checked on his watch the time and it was too late.
« Washed ‘em ! »
« You sure ? », you raised a brow.
« I washed them, smell, » he raised one hand for you to see which caused some toys to fall to the ground. Marc groaned.
« I trust you. »
Tim grasped some of the toys from his hug to help him and you picked up the rest from the ground.
« Where are you going with all of these, baby ? It’s time for bed. »
« But I’m not sleepy, dad... » You left the toys on top of the living room table.
« You need to rest, you know what time it is ? », Timothée rubbed his shoulder gently. Marc looked at him pleadingly.
« I wanna stay and play with you... »
« But we’re gonna sleep too, » Tim said. « We’ll put you to bed, and then we’ll sleep because we’re very tired. »
« No, I wanna stay with you... Please... »
« Alright, here’s what we’re gonna do, » you said taking his hand in yours. « We’ll leave all the toys here and you’ll go to bed now- »
« No, please, mum, » he squeezed your palm.
« Just listen, I’m making a suggestion, » you said and Tim just couldn’t hold on to his smile. « The later you sleep the less energy you’ll have in the morning and you won’t be able to play. So, what we’re gonna do is leave everything right here and in the morning you can play for as long as you want. » Marc breathed out and reluctantly nodded.
« Will you wake me up early ? », he mumbled raising his hands for Timothée to take him in his arms. He did so pressing a kiss on his cheek as Marc failed to suppress a yawn.
« Of course I will, » you ruffled his hair.
« Promise ? »
« Yeah. »
« Swear to God ? » You chuckled.
« Yeah, swear to God. »
« Hope to die ? »
« Hope to die. » He smiled sleepily, letting his head fall on his father’s shoulder as you headed into his bedroom.
You leaned against the doorframe while Tim put him to his bed.
« Tuck me in, please ? », he murmured. Timothée pulled the covers around him. He his hair back to press a kiss on his forehead and you walked closer. You leaned on top of his bed to kiss his cheek for good night.
« Good night, baby. »
« Love you, monkey. »
« Love you too, dad, » his hand wrapped around yours for a moment. « Stay till I fall asleep ? » You nodded in return.
You stayed in silence for a few minutes, watching Marc slowly close his eyes. He was sprawled out on his tummy, nose pressed on the side of the pillow, nostrils flaring, releasing small snores from his mouth.
Timothée stared at you as you pushed gently curls out of his eyes. He had forgotten how it felt to be loved by you but he could see it in Marc, the most delicate and pure kind of love.
A grin appeared on your lips, and you turned to him.
« I love looking at him when he’s sleeping, » you whispered. « He reminds me of when he was a baby. Remember ? »
Every time he watched how much you loved your son and cared about him, it reminded him of why he had fallen in love with you in the first place. He fell for you because you cared about the ones you loved and your love reflected on them, that’s why he was glowing every time he was with you. And he had missed that glow and you, the one causing it.
You could feel his gaze on you so you turned to him.
« I remember, » he said softly. « And I miss everything... » Your eyes stayed on him. « Is it too late ? »
The next morning, you had breakfast in a strange silence, only Marc talking and you softly smiling and nodding at whatever he was saying. You avoided Timothée’s eyes and he preferred to look at his plate, which Marc found weird and exchanged glances between the two of you trying to find out what had happened all of a sudden.
« Alright, » you kissed Marc’s forehead as he put on his seatbelt in the back of Timothée’s car. « Have fun with dad. »
« Bye, mum ! », Marc waved his hand.
« I’m gonna miss you, baby, » you said and closed the car door. He pouted his lips and placed his palm on the window. You placed your hand on top of his for a moment before turning to Tim. « Okay, drive safe. » He was biting his lips clearly troubled by your last night’s conversation. « We’re good, Timothée, » you meant to reassure him that everything was fine but he just motioned to your house.
« I’ll walk you to the door, » he said, following beside you with hands buried in his pockets. Your mind was blurry, couldn’t really think anything, just waited for him to take back everything he said, to tell you that he got carried away by nostalgia and it was just a delirium.
You wrapped your arms around you as he lingered on the doorframe.
« About last night, » he looked at you. You shook your head dismissively, facing the ground, not being able to hold his gaze.
« We’re good, Timothée. »
« No, euh… », he breathed out thinking of how to say what he wanted to say. But it was your time to speak and you had only one question to ask.
« Did you mean it ? » He nodded. Your eyes fell down again but you could feel him staring at you, waiting for something more. « Alright, » you said, pulling your hair back. « Euh... drive safe. » He stood better, taking a step back.
« Hey, euh... Do you wanna go out sometime ? »
« Sure, when Marc- »
« No, no, » he shook his head quickly. « Go out like... just us. Properly. Like on a date. » You raised your brows in surprise and he shrugged. You just stared at each other for a moment, one unable to believe what he had just said, the other unable to believe what she had just heard.
« Okay... But no flowers. »
« Okay, got it, » Tim said, moving back, biting his lips so he could stop himself from smiling. « Okay, bye. »
« Drive safe. »
i’ll always be here ༊*·˚
m.list ◦ askbox
synopsis: in which you find out that you are pregnant
You pulled back up your underwear and sat down at the toilet lid. There wasn’t an ounce of laziness or indolence in the way you hunched with your gaze low, pinned on the test.
A great silence filled the air but it rang loud enough to cover the sound of your breathing and the beat of your heart. Or maybe all your senses halted and you just stayed there frozen, detached from your own body.
Your leg seemed unable to stay in place, jumping mechanically up and down, tensed, full of anticipation. You pulled your hair back and held it to your nape, unconsciously scratching your skin, digging with your nails red holes.
Timothée touched your knee in understanding, hopelessly trying to console both of you.
He was sitting on the tiled floor, legs crossed, the skin of his stomach crumpled, seemingly apathetic, but in reality, he could barely move. His mouth agape was letting the air slide in, tongue pressed hard against his teeth.
There was nothing apathetic in his persistent stare that was fixed on you, eyes glimmering with a feverish spark, trying to catch some sort of reaction.
Devoted, he observed your expression forming; the way you blinked, the spasms of your eyelids, the way your eyebrows raised and your lips twitched. And then, when your eyes met his, he could suddenly feel his heart pounding so hard that it hurt his chest. His hand pushed the thumping back inside his body and he got on his feet.
« What ? What does it say ? »
You tasked him with your gaze and then extended the test, which he took a bit hesitant given your expression.
In utter surprise but at the same time in a state of consciousness. He knew. However, nothing could have ever prepared him for that moment.
He covered his mouth with his palm and breathed deeply as if to swallow all the air in the room. His jaw clenched and he had to blink, the overdose of oxygen draining his eyes into a strange shade of green. He exchanged a look between you and the test.
You were staring at him, body stiff from stillness, not really in your vicinity, your space, shocked. And the more he remained silent, the more you stared. You wanted to say something, but your throat ran dry.
His pupils retracted, sagging in helplessness and anticipation. A small wet drop swam the curve of his face and remained stuck on his chin. He turned at you and you breathed out relieved at the muffled sound of his chuckle.
« Shit, I’m going to be a dad. » You nodded slowly, unable to speak, a wide smile stretched on your lips. Tim breathed out, fingers wandering mindlessly over his hair. « I’m going to be a dad, » he pointed to himself. « We’re going to have a kid. »
« We’re going to be parents. »
« We’re going to be parents, » he repeated your words in disbelief, trying to digest it. « Shit, we’re going to be parents ! », his voice came out louder and he wrapped his arms around your body asphyxiatingly tight.
Your breaths caught in your throat, the closeness and warmth his body radiated making you feel dizzy and bringing tears to your eyes. You both laughed overflooded by an incomparable feeling of the purest joy. His heart was about to burst out of his chest, you could feel it pounding against you.
Tim pulled you back, his hair in total disarray and face reddened with a frantic glow. His eyes wet, glimmering surreally bright, wandered all around your face as he breathlessly cupped your cheeks into his hands, silver trails slipping from between his fingers. He brushed your hair back, as thumb wiped off those wet marks, trying to gather your tears, but simultaneously calm himself.
Your fingers slid around his wrist to make him stop and look at you. You smiled at the view of his face.
« You’re crying ? »
« Look who’s talking, » he sniffled and breathed out a laugh.
« Are you happy ? »
« Happy ? », his eyes widened as if what your question was ridiculous, which it was. « I’ve never loved anyone like I love you right now, » Tim leaned down and pressed his lips on your hand.
« I can’t believe it. »
« We’re going to be a family, » he said, his eyes swelling with happiness. « Fuck, I’m going to be a dad ! » You bit your lips to stop yourself from grinning. Timothée walked around the room, your stare following his every move. « I’m going to be a dad ! », he came to you and hugged you again. You almost lost your balance at his force and ended up in laughter. Tim wrapped his arms around you tight, not letting you escape, not for one second.
And when he did, he held both your hands in his and slipped his fingers around yours, like you were kids on your first day of school, relying on one another, seeking safety and comfort.
« Have you ever thought about it ? Us, having a kid. » You nodded.
« You ? » He grinned widely and pressed his eyes shut, a bit embarrassed.
« Yes. »
« Yes ? »
« You’re surprised ? »
« I don’t know... » He gave you a gentle smile. You noticed the way his stare moved down, hands slowly circling the sensitive skin of your belly. « I just never thought you wanted it with me. » His smile weakened and he reverted his eyes to you, unable to believe that these words were coming out of your mouth.
« I wouldn’t want this with anyone but you, » his voice came out soft and he looked at you, waiting for a response similar to his.
« Why ? »
« Why ? », his hands slowly slid off your belly and held your face. His eyes never narrowed or left yours. « Because I love you. »
« You love me, but will you stay ? »
« Where else would I go ? » You shrugged.
« Promise me that you will always be here. »
« I’ll always be here. »