Eyes tighter, then fluttered open to reveal a ghastly amount of pale sunlight coming into the window. Groggily, he arose and turned to his right side, his shirt pulling up over his stomach. He'd been in bed rest since month six and his pelvis could no longer support the pressure of he were to stand. Mr. Sherry homeschooled him and both guys took care of him. Although, he recently felt suffocated by the amount of attention. They were constantly checking on him, only worsening his fears of what would happen in a month. The doctor said that if the baby wasn't taken out quickly, I.T would tear him apart. He shivered every time he thought of it. They'd attempted to find adoptive parents, but no one wanted the child of a genetically mutated boy.

Oh...of course. You care more about Conor. Ned had pretended to get into a fight with him and be so hurt tht he wanted him out of his life. Conor fought for about a month, then gave up on the dead end conquest. Occasionally, Ned would overhear Mr. Sherry speaking about his classes and Conor's name would come up—according to the tales, Conor was still the happy, slightly emotionally distant star of the rugby team, but now had a "fella" of his own. A new boy had transferred after the summer break and, apparently, they fell madly in love almost at first sight. Ned threw his legs over the side of the bed, slowly lifting his weak body off of the firm mattress. Often, Ned stayed up late at night thinking about how Connor was probably with his boyfriend—not feeling any attachment to his old friend, nor even thinking about Ned. He imagined Conor's plump lips curving into a toothy grin as he looked at the person beside him like the boy next to him was the most significant being in the entirety of our universe. He imagined Conor's calloused hand intertwined with a smoother one, and his thumb gently rubbing patterns into the front of the boy's hand. One thing he didn't have to completely create alone was a story he'd heard through the thin walls of the apartment. The story was of what Mr. Sherry heard from his desk of the conversation between the lovers; the novel boy questioned who had been Conor's roommate before himself and Conor explained that I.T was just some guy he put up with. The night he'd heard that, he got nearly no sleep and was laying in a pond of his own creation by sunrise.

He walked and stood in front of the window, the window had speckles of droplets that dropped down the glass. He looked out into the bustling streets of Dublin—which was only an hour commute by train to his old school, which Mr, Sherry made daily. Leaning his ginger head against the cold, misty glassy, he sang a song of anguish in his head. The sun was just showing its ugly head in the damp day, and I.T was nearly four in the afternoon.

As he stared blindly, he saw a flash of colors under him. The stripes of yellow and blue painted a painfully familiar picture, along with their rowdy nature. Within a few minutes, Ned was pulling a very oversized sweatshirt over his six month large stomach and knocks rang through the wooden door, along with mindless talking. Unfortunately, Mr. Sherry wasn't present, nor anyone else. Shuffling out of the guest room and towards the front door, he took a deep breath before slowly opening the creaking door. At the sight of him, many of the rugby players showed expressions of confusion or amusement. "Mr. Sherry isn't here. How do you know where he lives?" Ned coldly questioned, accusingly.

"He gave I.T to us to drop off our equipment after the game. We're making a weekend out of this game." Viktor grinned to the player beside him. Ned cautiously stepped aside, allowing the team to enter. As they bustled in, a tall dark haired figure bustled along, giving no recognition to Ned. He was so close that Ned could reach out and touch him, yell for him to help, scream that he'd forgotten about their friendship that hadn't meant much to him. Instead of staring desperately, Ned turned his cold look to the time on the stove. He had been feeling discomfort all day but as he stared with his mid racing, he suddenly felt a pain that was tht if someone taking a lighter to his abdomen. He cried out in pain, attracting the team's attention, and grabbed instinctually onto the counter with his small fingers. At first the fire stayed in a controlled spot, then quickly spread. His grip tightened and his vision blurred, he yelled out in pain and desperation. Quickly the pain worsened, and his hold on the counter became weaker, his knees shaking until they gave in. He made a failed attempt to bend one of his arms over the counter to stay on, but the slight control over himself that he had was surrendered and blackness engulfed his vision, cutting out any noise around him.

The boys watched in shock at the fast scene, taking a moment to process I.T, and then being forced to react. Conor's face fell, and he dove to be beside Ned. "Ned?" He said, and repeated, shaking the bony shoulders of the unconscious boy. "Call someone!" He yelled, not taking his dark eyes off of Ned, "Call Mr. Sherry!"

An angelic looking boy with blonde hair and spotted green eyes, stared confusedly at the scene. "Ned? I thought you said he was dead to you."

As the boy complained, Weasel had quickly pulled out his phone and dialed their English teacher. The second the call was answered, Conor practically yelled into the microphone. "Ned passed out. He yelled and then fell to the ground." Conor spit out, forcing off his jersey to secured it under Ned's limp head.

A long pause rang out, before screaming rang through the speaker, "What?! Conor, you need to take him to hospital! I can't believe this is happening! We've done everything to prevent I.T!" By the end he was yelling to himself, but the whole team could hear. Once he recouped, "There's a hospital a few blocks away. Rush him there!"

Without hesitation, without thinking about how he'd been deserted by the guy, without turning to his angelic boyfriend, he carefully crept his hands under Ned's small body and pulled him to his chest bridal style. As soon as Ned was secured, Conor was running out of the apartment like a stallion in a horse race. His mind was empty, not having a single though within. The team followed closely behind, and Conor didn't even turn to watch as the blonde boy ran so elegantly.

As he rushed through the doors, he yelled out words that he wasn't even sure what he said but I.T made the receptionist immediately call for backup and soon he was on a stretcher being pulled away from Conor. He followed the rushing medical professionals, but they slammed the door that lead into the rooms in his face, I.T felt like when Ned had slammed the door to himself in Conor's begging face.

Soon, Mr. Sherry and his boyfriend bolted into the ER and ran to the receptionist. "It's the baby! He's pregnant!" Conor heard this and he froze, remembering how emotional Ned had been and how it now made sense. The receptionist quickly called Ned's doctors and alerted them of the situation.

Conor stared at the gray doors that had small openings to see the ruckus past I.T. "A baby?" The second Mr. Sherry heard that, he'd realized what he'd done. "Who's?"

"Irrelevant. What matters now is-"

"It's mine, isn't I.T?" Conor blankly questioned, guilt flooding through his veins. Mr. Sherry didn't reply, slightly turning his head downwards. "He's pregnant with my baby and I wasn't there for him! How could you guys keep this from me?" Conor or began to shout, getting dangerously close to the his English teacher. "What is this didn't happen, huh? Ned would have the kid and the kid would never know his own father?" His voice held repulsion and anger beyond what they'd ever seen in Conor.

"He told us that you didn't know you'd ever had relations." Mr. Sherry guiltily replied.

"Of course, I knew! How could I not know? I thought Ned never wanted to speak about I.T again because I woke up and he was gone!"

"Oh, babe!" A higher pitched voice squeaked, and soon a small statured boy was in Conor's arms, embracing him. Conor wrapper his arms around the boy, still looking at Mr. Sherry's dumbfounded face.

***

The rest had left to play the game and enjoy themselves, while Conor stayed in the waiting room with Jace. Mr. Sherry had gone down to cafeteria, but Conor wouldn't leave...because they told them what they were doing an hour ago. Ned was too weak to sustain the baby and they had to do an emergency C-section, not even addressing the issues that are likely wrong with the premature child. If he lives. Yeah, he.

About two hours after the information was given, Jace rested his head peacefully on Conor's Jersey, when the doctor came and lead the frightful, but not visibly, boy to the NICU. It was obvious which child was his, the little boy had bright red hair like Ned. They let him sit down and look at his child, and the moment he saw the boy he fell in love. He'd never been a big fan of kids, but this was different. This was his own. Many tubes and wires were connected to his small frame, and he squirmed from the uncomfortable tube that was placed in his nose. Despite the red hair, he had an almost uncanny resemblance to Conor. The baby had hazel eyes and a small birthmark on his cheek that reminded Conor of his own. He smiled down at the baby, reaching in and letting the little boy wrap his hand around his finger. The baby could barely squeeze and his hand was a bit wrinkly, but Conor accepted that his little boy wasn't as strong as other babies. "There's plenty of things we have to monitor. Currently, it's confirmed that he has Patent ductus arteriosus, which means a certain duct didn't close because he was so premature. We're giving him antibiotics, but the problem could need surgery." Conor's heart sank at the woman's words, so low that he felt it might've collapsed onto the floor. "And he also has Respiratory distress syndrome, which is currently under control with the breathing tube but if it worsens he will have to be put on a respirator."

The doctor turned to walk away, "Wait." Conor called after them, "I-Is he gonna die?"

"I can't say anything for certain. There's good odds, but a premature baby can have a lot of complications that could lead to unexpected deaths." The doctor said, Conor wondered how a human could be so used to telling someone that a loved one could die. He'd never seen a doctor with so little heart.

He turned his blank face to his baby, a small smile spreading across his lips. "Don't worry, you won't. I'll protect you." The little ginger squeezed his finger slightly like he understood.

"He's beautiful." A familiar voice awed, then approached the incubator. Mr. Sherry took a seat next to Conor. "What're you going to do."

"Take care of them. Both of them. I'm with Jace so I.T may be complicated, but he's my child and Ned's his father too."

Mr. Sherry paused, staring at the bundle of innocence and wires. "I meant if Ned doesn't make I.T."

Conor cringed, "He'll make I.T."

"Conor, you have to-"

"He will."

***

The baby was monitored constantly, but a few hours after his breathing became increasingly weak and he was put on a respirator. Hours after that, the antibiotics still weren't working and they had to do an emergency surgery. He was still in surgery, the nameless child, and Conor sat patiently at Ned's bedside. He wasn't holding up to well. The surgery had taken a toll, the pregnancy too. His heart stopped for two minutes almost immediately after the surgery and they revived him, but said I.T could happen again. Basically, within a day Conor's life had become so construed that he didn't know what was even happening. I.T seemed like the universe was dangling things in front of his face and pulling them away as quickly as they were shown. "W-What did I do wrong, to deserve this?" Conor asked himself, a small tear streaming down his pale cheek and falling onto Ned's hospital bed. "I've been good. I've been good. I've been good." Conor repeated, and soon his teacher must've walked in halfway through because his arms were around him. "I've been good. I've been good, Mr. Sherry. I have."

"I know, Conor."

They were interrupted by a nurse's footsteps making an entrance. "He's back in the NICU, the surgery went well, but his lungs still are weak."

"T-Thank you."

They rushed down and Conor sat waiting beside his child, protecting him as he had promised.