Jumin: Sympathy Symptoms
Hey~ Whenever you have time, could you do a mini fic about your favorite mysme character experiencing sympathy symptoms and that’s how they figured out MC is pregnant? Thank you :) ((Your blog is lovely, by the way ❤))
Admin Pancake @potatooopancakes Hey hey 😁 So glad to hear you’re enjoying the blog, even with Phae and I being new and all, hehe. This one was kind of a toughie for me, just cause I knew absolute zilch about pregnancy… I had to research its symptoms 😅 I also had trouble choosing which character to write, cause Saeyoung and Yoosung are my favorites but Saeyoung is /everyone’s/ favorite and I want to write you something outside of the norm! After much deliberation, I finally decided on…
JUMIN had never wanted to vomit so much in his life.
He stared at his coffee, made exactly the way he had requested every day for as long as he could remember, and gagged. Why? He liked his coffee. The cafe below his penthouse made excellent drinks, and this one had been custom made for him— five shots of espresso with a coconut whipping on top, no cream, no sugar. He drank this precise mix daily for years and enjoyed it thoroughly each time. It never had to change, because it was always made perfectly.
Today, though, just the sight of it made his stomach churn in repulsion. He pushed the cup away from him over the glass top of his desk as he pressed the most used button on his intercom.
“Assistant Kang,” he said into the mic. “Come in here a moment.”
There was no response at the other end, but after a few seconds Jaehee pushed through the door with a folder stuffed under her arm and some papers in her hands. There were bags under her eyes, and her voice was hoarse when she spoke.
“What is it, Mr. Han?”
“Dispose of my coffee in the break room sink. Be sure to wash it down correctly. Please clean the sink after you’ve finished.”
Jaehee’s lips tightened slightly. “Yes, sir.”
“I also want to see the documents from yesterday morning’s meeting on my desk by noon.”
“Of course, Mr. Han.” She managed to get a hold on the untouched coffee and hastily turned towards the door before he had the opportunity to add anything else to the list.
Jumin’s nausea was still hovering around him by the time he had left the C&R building for home. On his way out, he had passed Assistant Kang’s desk; sitting on top was the coffee from this morning, half empty. Another wave hit him.
MC had greeted him at the door of the penthouse that night with a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek.
“It’s good to see you, darling.” He pulled her into a quick hug. “I haven’t felt myself today. I feel better just seeing you.”
She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead, then his cheeks, examining his face with concern. “You feel fine, sweetie. I don’t think you’re sick… maybe you should get into bed early tonight.” Her hands traveled from his face to the front of his suit jacket, tugging it gently off of his shoulders. She was so beautiful. Her gaze was trained on his suit, but he brought his fingers to her chin and turned her face upwards towards him.
“I love you.”
Her expression softened. She didn’t say a word, but she pulled him into a kiss that said plenty.
“Get some sleep, Jumin.”
The funny thing was, as tired he was, Jumin couldn’t sleep for the life of him. He tossed underneath the sheets until he heard MC tiptoe through the door, and he stilled his body and waited so as not to worry her. He felt her lips press against his hair, linger and then disappear. He lay there until he could hear her breathing steady and slow, then he got to his feet quietly and left the bedroom.
The living area of the penthouse was bathed in the milky lights of the city skyline. A faint glow from the aquarium in the corner swam playfully across the room, disrupted by Jumin as he crossed the space to deposit himself on the couch. A subtle noise from the other end of the couch drew his attention towards a white figure perched on the armrest.
“Elizabeth the 3rd,” he crowed. The ghostly animal floated along the back frame of the couch towards him and sprung lightly on to his lap. He passed a hand over her back a few times before placing her aside to rise and make his way toward his phone.
“Hello? Yes, I’d like to make an appointment with Dr. Pyagai tomorrow.” As he spoke, he wandered along the edges of the room until he reached the couch and sat down again.
It wasn’t long after he had hung up the phone that his eyes began to feel heavy. A thought arose weakly of moving to the bed to sleep, but was pushed away swiftly into the blurry corners of his mind. His head began to loll forwards, backwards, until his body had slumped against the back of the sofa, filled with unconsciousness and no longer plagued by insomnia.
Jumin awoke with a blanket laid across his body, a cat curled up on his lap, and the ache of a lifetime inside his neck. A small groan escaped his throat as he sat upright, upsetting the sleep that had taken Elizabeth. She stretched exaggeratedly and leapt to the ground. Jumin yawned in response. He got to his feet lazily, roaming the area until he found his way to the kitchen. As he walked a dull pain in the pit of his stomach pushed its way to his attention, making him wince and contract over his abdomen.
“What is happening to me?” he muttered to himself, stopping at the kitchen counter to pick up a handwritten note. The penmanship was, Jumin could admit, a little on the messy side, but it belonged to MC and was therefore adorable.
Jumin, it read, I got a call from Dr. Pyagai this morning. You missed your appointment! It’s alright, we’ve pushed it back to 2 o'clock so that you could get some rest. Don’t worry about trying to head to work today… I called Jaehee, she’s got everything under control. Take it easy! I’ll be back soon. I love you~ MC
He smiled warmly at his wife’s note and glanced at the clock. Twelve forty-six— how had he slept this late? He rubbed his eyes as he turned toward the bedroom to get ready.
“It seems, Mr. Han,” the man began, “that you’re experiencing such various and uncorrelated symptoms that I could not conclude on a single sickness.”
Dr. Pyagai was a very unremarkable man. He had brown hair, black eyes masked by reading glasses and wore the standard white medical coat over a white shirt. A little thicker around the waist, a bit shorter than the average man. He had a terribly dry sense of humor. With a clipboard tucked under his arm, he fiddled with a pen as he spoke evenly and softly in a manner so monotone that Jumin had a hard time distinguishing a word from the one before it. In fact, this was the most striking characteristic about the man.
“And what does that mean for my health?” Jumin asked.
The doctor drew in a long breath before hiding behind his clipboard to speak again. “Considering the cramping, food aversions, nausea and irregularities in sleep pattern you mentioned today,” he paused to lick his lips, “and the bloating you mentioned over the phone that you’d experienced two weeks ago, I would say that you were pregnant had you missed a menstrual cycle.” He peered through his glasses at Jumin’s face intently. “Have you missed a menstrual cycle, Mr. Han?”
He shook his head in impatience, but Dr. Pyagai gave one short chuckle and continued. “Good. In that case, I’ll conclude that your wife is 3 months pregnant. You’ve been having symptoms for at least 1 month. What you’ve been experiencing is known as Couvade Syndrome, better known as sympathy symptoms. Many patients find that spending time with some male friends can help alleviate the effects of Couvade.” He slid the clipboard back under his arm and turned, pulling the reading specs off of his nose and folding them over his shirt.
Jumin scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. My wife would have told me if she was pregnant.”
Pyagai looked at him with raised eyebrows, then turned again. “Do you have any better ideas, Mr. Han?”
“You’re the doctor, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am. And your symptoms are indicative of Couvade Syndrome. That’s my diagnosis.”
He blinked. His wife, pregnant? With a baby?
Jumin probably shouldn’t have shouted at Driver Kim as forcefully as he did, but something inside him was boiling and this worthless car was moving so incredibly slowly that he nearly called for another. He had to get home. Now.
He burst through the front door, panting slightly. His hair was falling out of place, and things were moving much to quickly. But when MC looked at him from the couch with confusion and worry in her eyes, everything stood still.
He was crossing the room in only a handful of long strides until he had fallen at her feet. Her hands cupped each side of his face, and she looked into it with wide eyes.
“Jumin, what is it? What happened?”
“Is it true? Is there…” He trailed off.
“Sweetie, is everything alright? Please tell me you’re okay.” She ducked her head to study his face, his eyes, his expression. He met her gaze.
“A baby,” he whispered.
MC stopped. Silence fell over the entire room like snow. Seconds passed. A minute. Two. It was quiet.
And then, a breath.
He felt his throat catch. His hands found her stomach, where he could already feel a small bump beginning to grow. MC was running her fingers through his hair and along his face and back again. Something wet dropped onto his hand.
Jumin had never wanted to cry so much in his life.