It'd been a week since Matthew found out he was pregnant with the child of a man he hadn't seen since the night it 'happened', and he hadn't slept a night since. He didn't know what to do, but he did know he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure about anything.
And he knew that instability would be the worst way to bring up a child. How was he supposed to be a parent when he didn't know how to be a normal guy. He just wasn't ready for it. He hadn't planned it. He didn't want it.
What if he stopped it now? He couldn't help but think it. It would be a good solution. He could be more careful in the future. It'd be better to do it now, before it'd be too late to get one. If he had the baby, he'd have to give it up for adoption. What kind of life would that be? They'd be pushed from foster home to foster home. Probably abused too. But he couldn't keep them. He couldn't afford to have another person to provide for even if he could keep a regular job.
"Fuck life," he said to no one in particular. "Fuck it with something hard and sandpapery."
He buried his face in his pillow and tried, unsuccessfully, not to cry. He was confused, and angry, and scared, and for the final kick to the ribs, he was lonely. He had never felt so incredibly alone. He cried harder. And, in between shoulder shaking sobs, called his best friend.
He told her the whole story. She knew about that night, but the aftermath was news to her.
"Oh my God..." she whispered.
"You said it."
"You need to not be alone right now, Mattie. I'd come over there right now if I wasn't busy. But... Don't just stay in. Please? For me? Even if you don't talk to anybody, just go out and be around people. It'll be good for you."
"But people... What if I start crying?" Matthew knew he was only whining now.
"Go to a bar. Only drink -water-, but blame it on vodka and they'll cut you some slack."
"That's a... Why vodka?" He gave a half-smile.
"Old habits die hard. Now get off the couch and go out. You've heard the stories about what my family can do." She threatened, for his own good.
"Okay, okay... I'll go out."
Matthew was regretting his concession hours later as he sat at the bar of the night club, trying to ignore the attempts at cannibalism via the face of the couple next to him. There was a wet squelchy sound as they pulled away from each other, giggling like school children. He glared at them, angry at them mostly for being so happy and carefree.
He couldn't stand them any longer. He slipped off his bar stool and walked towards the exit. He had just pulled open the door to leave when a strong hand grabbed his wrist. He turned to tell off whoever it was, but the words caught in his throat and his eyes widened.
Piercingly blue eyes stared back at him. Matthew would have whispered a name, but he didn't have one to use. He tried to think of what to do next. What to say? How to ask his name? Should he just pull away and run? Blurt out that he was pregnant? His thoughts, and the loud music, almost covered up the soft words that came from the man holding his wrist.
"Ah... I thought I'd ne'er find ya again..." He whispered it, as if he wasn't quite aware that his thoughts were being said out loud.
Matthew froze up. This sweet side, combined with everything attractive about him, and the warmth of his touch. This man was everything he wanted. All his emotions added up into one simple sentence.
"I fucking hate you!" Matthew screamed at him, causing some of the dancers to glance over in surprise. "I hate you!" He pulled away and dashed outside, tears welling up when his eyes met the cold air.
"Wait. Don' go... Not yet..." The gentle voice seemed just that much sweeter when Matthew could hear it better.
"Why not..? You're... You... You're married! I hate you!"
"I... Am not married..." the man said softly.
"Liar! I saw that picture and the ring, and..." Matthew failed at holding back the sob that rose up.
Strong arms reflexively pulled him close, trapping him compassionately against a broad chest. "No... No. I 'ad been married b'fore... But there was a d'vorce... A bad one... I haven't lov'd him for... years..." He sounded contemplative. Nostalgic, maybe. But, not sad. It was as if it was to him a complex truth that simply was.
"Why was the picture still..?"
"I kep' tryin' to force myself to go ba'k... I've a stron' loyal side... But.. It wasn't s'posed to be..."
Matthew just cried harder. "You used me!" He pushed him away as hard as he could, but Berwald caught his wrist. "You just took me home and fucked me! That doesn't change no matter who you loved!"
"No, that's not-"
"I don't even know your name!"
There was a pause, punctuated by tiny sobs on Matthew's behalf.
"Berwald..." The man finally said.
"Berwald..?" Matthew echoed uncertainly.
"Ah, no, you're sayin' the 'w' part wron'... Say it wit' me... Berwald."
"Berwald." Matthew said again, liking the name more each time he heard it.
"Good man..."
"Um... Can you let go of my hand... Berwald..?" Matthew asked.
"Ah! O' course." He pulled away quickly. "S'rry..."
"It's okay. Um... Matthew. I'd teach you how to say it, but it's hard to butcher Matthew."
"It's a stron' name. A good one," Berwald said.
"Um.. Thanks?"
There was another awkward silence.
Matthew's voice cracked from emotion. "I'm g-going to go home now."
"Wait. I don' want to lose track o' ya again... Can I have your number?"
"Well... Uh... I guess."
Matthew recited his phone number for him, wondering a minute later if he should have given him a fake one. He didn't want to have the father involved in this. It was his own body, and he had a right to choose. If only he knew which choice was the right one...
"Are ya free on Sat'rday..?"
"Wait..? Are you asking me out? Isn't this step coming a bit late?"
"Sorry..."
"I'm... Free."
Berwald lightened up visibly. "Perf'ct. I'll call ya... I promise."
"O-oh... Okay..." Matthew was getting more and more lost and confused. He decided to quit before things got any worse. "I have to go now. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Matthew..."
He struggled not to look back as he walked away, knowing if he did, he'd probably run right back into those arms.
-x-
It may continue.