Jude doesn't want kids.

It's not really a new thing for him. He's just never wanted kids for himself. He doesn't have anything against them, definitely doesn't hate them. In fact, if he's around kids, he actually quite enjoys it. Always finding himself laughing and naturally becoming gentler than usual. Adapting to them with ease. Kids are cute. They're fun. Even if it's a bit much, their loud cries and sometimes bratty tantrums, but it's never bothered him enough to grow a dislike for kids at all.

That being said, his liking of kids doesn't make him want them any more. It's just.. not what he sees for himself. Maybe it's because he's still young and at the peak of his career, or maybe he's just never wanted kids, whatever the bloody reason is, he doesn't want them. It's just a simple thing. Jude doesn't think he'd ever want kids.

He's just.. not sure you'd want that too. Were okay with no kids. It's not that you two have had that serious talk yet. Six months into dating, it's like the honeymoon phase still hasn't ended, so Jude hasn't brought it up. Plans for the future. Whether his aligned with yours. Whether it worked like he wanted it to. So, he decides that today is the day.

If you do want kids, Jude won't force you to stay with him. He knows what he wants. If you know too, he won't force your mind to change. "Love," he calls out, shrugging off his bag at your door, stepping out of his shoes. You'd given him a spare key. Maybe it was too soon for that, but Jude didn't mind. Things were good. You trusted him. He liked that.

"Hey," he relaxes when he sees you. Jude rubs his head into your shoulder, arms wrapping around you from behind. "All good, beautiful?" It's nice. It's good. He wants this to stay. So maybe, just selfishly, Jude wishes you don't want kids either.

"Can we talk, love?" He hooks his chin over your shoulder, wrapped around you like a big dog that hasn't realised it's not a puppy anymore. "Nothin' bad. Swear. Jus' wanna clear some things up," Jude quickly says, knowing you'd stress over hearing the can we talk line.

There's a lot to talk about, but kids is the first start to that conversation, so when you finish the dishes, he starts talking, keeping you close just for as long as possible. As if things might end today already. "Just.. I don't want kids, love." He's told people this. It wasn't so stressful. It's proper hard now, with you. "And.. I don't think I'll ever want 'em. That's what I.. wanted to talk to you 'bout. 'Cause if you want 'em, I don't want you to get ya' hopes up w'me."

Oh, for fuck's sake. Please. Don't want kids too.