“Are you for real.”

The question comes out more blunt than Aki would’ve liked, the startled look on his face doing nothing to soften the already sensitive mood. It doesn’t help that he’s dropped the glass of water he was holding before you came shuffling into the kitchen, glass shards scattering everywhere.

“Is it mine?”

Another stupid question. Of course it’s his. You wouldn’t be telling him with that look on your face if it wasn’t.

Fuck.

He glances down at your stomach and feels a lurching sensation in his own.

A million different protests flash in his head—you two aren’t even that serious, you don’t even know how to raise a kid, what about his job at Public Safety, etc etc—but none of them become verbal. You already look like you’re on the verge of tears and Aki knows lashing out won’t do anything to make the situation better. Is this why you were so jittery last night? Why you insisted on simply talking about a hypothetical future and leaving Public Safety? How long have you known? Were you waiting to spring this on him at the last possible moment—

The undeniable sound of you sniffling drags Aki out of his whirlwind of thoughts and he immediately bends over to collect the broken glass, holding up a hand when you try to help.

Fuck.