If this stinks, I'm sorry.

THIS IS A ONE-SHOT AND I WILL NOT BE CONTINUING. I swear, if anyone story alerts this... Well, I'd probably think it's hilariously funny, but, you know...

Why not author alert instead? (;

"Fabian… Can we talk?"

He looks up at you.

For a moment your confidence falters—you glance over at Amber, and she nods encouragingly. He deserves to know, she mouths.

You sigh because you know she's right.

"Yeah, of course," He says quickly, and jumps off his chair. Hurries to your side.

He smiles at you. You try to return the grin, you really do—but your muscles aren't working right and the most you can manage is a sort of grimace.

His bright eyes turn to worry as he takes in your expression.

"Everything all right?" He asks you as soon as you're both locked inside your room. His eyes search your face. "Is it Gran?"

"Gran's fine," You tell him, and stop.

You don't know how to say this. You thought you did—you went through it with Amber, over and over again. She looked up advice about it online and now you consider yourselves experts.

You just need to put it into practice.

"Fabian," You start again, and the concern in his eyes goes deeper. He wants to hug you, you know that. Comfort you. But he won't allow himself to, because you aren't Fabina anymore.

And then you open your mouth one last time and it all comes out in a rush—everything you've known for the last week, everything you've been keeping inside—it all comes pouring out.

"Fabian," You say. "Fabian, I'm pregnant."

He stares at you, and you're afraid.

So you keep talking.

"I found out on Sunday—I was feeling a bit strange so Trudy took me to the doctor, do you remember? —And the doctor asked me questions and took some tests and…"

He's still staring. Numb.

"It's not mine," He chokes out finally, and you nod.

You nod.

You never went that far with him. Heck, you only ever kissed him once.

He turns away, turns back again.

"Who?" He asks, and his voice is cold and hard and hopeless. You search his eyes; desperate for that last bit of warmth you can't remember.

You look down.

"It doesn't matter," You tell the floor, not ready to divulge the information sure to break his heart all over again. "But it's not yours."

He doesn't press for more. Doesn't say something ridiculous, like, "I think I deserve to know."

Because he doesn't. He's not yours and you're not his. You don't owe him anything.

You look up at him again.

His gaze shifts from the wall behind you to your stomach. Automatically you raise a hand to it, protecting it, shielding it, loving it.

He doesn't ask how this will affect the mystery or school or your friendship. Doesn't even ask if you're going to keep or abort or give it away.

"Nina," He says, and your eyes meet in the middle. His gaze softens as he stares at you.

"Fabian," You tell him, you plead, you beg. All former pretenses are stripped away, leaving just the two of you. Alone against the world.

"I'm scared," You breathe, and his heart melts to a puddle on the floor.

"I know." He says, and rushes forward to wrap you in his arms.

It's like you belong with each other again.

But that would be lying.