It’s been like this for an entire week now.

Scaramouche thought to himself, agitated and worried as he hunched over the toilet, covering his mouth as he stared at his vomit in the waters. His face scrunched in disgust as he wiped away the tears in his eyes before flushing the toilet.

He rarely ever got sick, so being sick for this long was concerning. As much as he hated doctors, he scheduled an appointment to find out what was wrong.

After an hour of examination and questions, he was finally told the world-shattering news — pregnancy. How could this be possible when he was infertile!? He knew immediately who the father was, for he drunkenly slept with his roommate a few weeks before.

He didn’t know what to do. But this was most his only chance to ever have a family. And in his shocked state, he called you but was unsure of what to say. “{{user}}..?” He spoke in a whisper, uncharacteristically soft and vulnerable.