Just My Luck - Chapter 8

It's dark, and cramped...
I can't hear...I can't see.
But I can feel it.
I feel the love around me.
The affection shown to the both of us
I can't wait to be born.

********
 
 
*Liam’s P.O.V.*
 
All five of us sat in a row in the examination room of Dr. Chesmund’s office. He drew a syringe full of Niall’s blood and took it to the lab for a quick scan a few moments ago. I bounced my foot up and down on the floor, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees.
“Nervous?” Niall chortled, putting a hand on my knee to stop it from shaking.
“Yeah. We waited a while to find out what it was, huh?” I replied.
“I’m just worried it’ll be one of you guys.” Niall confessed.
“Well what would be so bad about that?” Harry piped.
“You guys are my best friends.”
Before anyone else could say anything, Dr. Chesmund strode in, holding the files in a manila folder.
“Well, Doctor?” Zayn asked anxiously.
“There seemed to be…four matches.”
Four? I thought. How is that even possible?
“And they’re…Liam, Zayn, Louis, and Harry.”
“What?” We all asked in unison.
“But in order to single out who the actual father is, it will take days to test. Sorry, lads, but you won’t get immediate results. Give it a week, maybe?”
We all let out the breath we’d been holding. Just one more week…
I stood up, grabbing Niall’s wrist and supporting him as he lifted himself out of the chair. He tugged his shirt down, the fabric hugging his newly found curve. Whenever he thought no one was looking, he would place an affectionate hand on his stomach, but I normally caught him doing it. Nothing was wrong, of course. It just embarrassed him I guess.
“Come back on your regular June 14th, Mr. Horan. And I’ll call you soon with the results. Bye, now! Take care.” Dr. Chesmund said.
We met  up with Paul when we left the building. He stood outside a sandwich shop, the car obviously somewhere else. As we approached, he tipped his hat. “Thought we could grab a bite to eat ‘fore we got home.”
We all turned to Niall, who shrugged. “Sounds good to me,” He said nonchalantly, though I could tell he was starving. We went inside and were seated at a table far in the back, waiting for our waitress. She came over, her red hair bouncing in a curly ponytail. “Drinks?” she asked.
“Beer.”
“Beer.”
“Beer.”
“Pepsi.” I said. The usual.
“And for you, sir?” The waitress asked, looking to Niall.
“Bee—I mean…Water, please.”  
There was a silence for a while. We weren’t exactly used to Niall ordering anything other than beer. The boys started to engage in a conversation and I discreetly pulled Niall out of it by laying a tentative hand on his stomach. “Can I feel?” I asked. He seemed a little surprised the moment I touched him but calmed down after a while. I focused on his stomach, but felt nothing.
“They…kick if you rub.” He said.
“Huh?”
He gently took my wrist and brought it across his stomach, and he was right. Wow. They did kick.
“Wow,” I breathed. I pulled my hand away and the moment was gone. I realized that the conversation between the boys had ended an all eyes were on Niall and me.
“..So!” I said awkwardly, tangling my hands in my lap. “Vas’ happening?”
Zayn laughed at my attempt at his punchline. “Not much, Liam. We were just watching you two spooning over there.”
“Spooning?” I said. “If that’s spooning then what’s forking?”
Harry laughed and took a gulp of his beer. “Forking, eh? I just might invent that,” he said, tipping his glass at me.
After ordering, we discussed what’s been happening over the past few weeks. I couldn’t seem to take my attention off of Niall, who sat unusually quiet and unengaged in our conversation.
“You guys? I don’t feel very well.” Niall said, beginning to push out of his chair. I felt through my coat pockets, grasping his prescriptions.
“Do you need your medication?” I asked, holding out the pills.
“No…I-I just wanna go home.”
Mood swings? Morning sickness? Didn’t he already get that? I thought, trying to figure out what was wrong. This was unlike Niall. He never tried to get out of eating.
“What’s the matter?” I whispered in his ear.
“Paparazzi…They’re here.”
I looked at the entrance of the restaurant to see multiple people with cameras and equipment.
“Please? My stomach hurts.” Niall whined, nervously glancing at the door.
“We’ll get caught up by the entrance.” Harry said. “Bathroom window?”
Niall looked pained. His face was pale, twisted into a pout. He laid his head on the table and wrapped his arms around his middle. “I won’t make it that far.” He whimpered. “Make them go away, Paul!”
Paul cleared his throat, pushing back out of his chair and going to consult the Paparazzi.
“Niall? What’s the matter?” Zayn asked.
“I feel like shit.” He groaned.
“Pills?” I offered again, shaking the bottle. He opened his palm, and I shook a few tablets into it. He sat back up, tossing the pills into his mouth and gulping them back down with water.
“Better?” I asked. He clapped a hand over his mouth, shaking his head. He pointed his finger in the direction of the bathroom, but before I could understand what he was trying to indicated, he coughed, throw up oozing through the gaps of his fingers.
“Oh…” I muttered. The chatter of the restaurant had now subdued to a silence. Niall closed his eyes, and then directed a thumb at the door. Let’s go.