#High School Rapper | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

h0llywoodsbleeding · 1 month ago

Text

chapter eleven

Mair barely registered the sound of the front door opening and closing. Her mom was back. Her pulse hammered in her ears, and she felt frozen in place, still curled up on the couch, her hands gripping Nymeria’s fur like a lifeline.

Her mom appeared in the doorway, holding a small paper bag from the drugstore. She didn’t say anything at first, just set the bag down on the coffee table and took a seat beside Mair. Her presence was steady, warm—comforting in a way Mair hadn’t realized she needed until now.

“I got a couple different kinds,” her mom said softly, her voice careful, gentle. “Whatever feels easiest for you.”

Mair swallowed thickly, her throat raw from all the crying. She could barely look at the bag. It felt like Pandora’s box sitting there in front of her, holding the answer to a question she wasn’t ready to ask.

Her mom reached out, running a soothing hand down Mair’s arm. “You don’t have to take it right this second,” she assured her. “But when you’re ready, I’ll be right here.”

Mair nodded, but she didn’t move. The weight of it all pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. “What if it’s positive?” she whispered, voice barely audible.

Her mom didn’t hesitate. “Then we figure it out. Together.”

Mair let out a shaky breath and finally forced herself to stand. Her legs felt unsteady beneath her as she grabbed the bag and turned toward the bathroom, Nymeria watching her with concerned, intelligent eyes.

The walk down the hall felt unbearably long, each step heavier than the last. Once she was inside the bathroom, she shut the door behind her, pressing her back against it for a moment. She felt like she might throw up, whether from nerves or whatever was going on in her body, she wasn’t sure.

Her hands trembled as she pulled out one of the tests, reading the instructions even though she already knew how it worked. She just needed a moment—some sense of control over something.

Finally, she took the test.

When it was done, she placed it on the counter and quickly washed her hands, the sound of rushing water barely registering in her ears.

She hesitated before opening the door, clutching the sink for support. Then, finally, she cracked it open, just enough for her mom to step inside.

Her mom didn’t say anything as she entered. She just took one look at Mair—at her pale face, her watery eyes—and reached out, pulling her into a hug.

“It’s going to be okay,” she murmured, rubbing slow, comforting circles into Mair’s back.

Mair nodded against her shoulder, even though she wasn’t sure she believed it.

Mair moved to sit on the closed toilet lid, her knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them as if she could hold herself together through sheer force. The test sat on the counter, face down, the seconds crawling by unbearably slow.

Her mom sat on the edge of the bathtub, close enough to reach for her but giving her space. She wasn’t hovering, wasn’t pushing—just there, solid and steady in a way Mair needed more than she could put into words.

“You’ve been through so much, sweetheart,” her mom said softly, her voice full of warmth and understanding. “More than anyone should have to deal with all at once.”

Mair sniffled, staring down at the floor, at the way her bare feet pressed against the cool tile. “I don’t feel strong,” she admitted, her voice small.

Her mom tilted her head, studying her. “I know you don’t. But you are.”

Mair let out a breath, shaky and uneven.

“You found the strength to leave, even when it broke your heart,” her mom continued, her tone gentle but firm. “You’re here, facing whatever comes next, even though you’re scared. That’s strength, Mair. Whether you see it or not.”

Mair’s throat tightened, emotion swelling in her chest. She wanted to believe her. Wanted to feel like she wasn’t completely unraveling.

Her mom reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Mair’s face. “You don’t have to do this alone. No matter what that test says, we’ll figure it out together.”

Mair exhaled slowly, gripping her arms a little tighter. She hadn’t even realized how much she needed to hear that until now.

A beat of silence passed between them, the tension still heavy in the air but softened by her mother’s presence.

“You always wanted to be a mom someday,” her mom mused gently, a nostalgic kind of fondness in her voice. “I remember when you were little, carrying around your dolls, tucking them in, making sure they were safe.”

Mair swallowed hard. “That was different,” she murmured. “I was playing pretend. This is real life.”

Her mom nodded in understanding. “And real life is messy and complicated. But you don’t have to have all the answers right now. You just have to breathe, one step at a time.”

Each second felt like an eternity.

Mair’s breath hitched at the sound of the timer. She froze, her hands clenching around the fabric of her sweatshirt, suddenly unable to move.

Her mom’s gaze flickered to the phone, then back to her. “Do you want me to check it for you?” she asked gently.

Mair shook her head quickly, her pulse roaring in her ears. “No, I—I can do it,” she whispered, even though she wasn’t sure she could.

Her stomach twisted violently as she reached for the test, her fingers trembling. It felt like time had stretched unbearably long, but at the same time, it had only been three minutes—three minutes that had the power to change everything.

She flipped it over.

Two lines.

Pregnant.

The world tilted beneath her, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, barely hearing her own voice. Her vision blurred, her hands shaking so hard she nearly dropped the test.

Her mom was watching her, her expression unreadable, waiting for Mair to process it.

Her mom asks what she’s feeling?

Mair felt like the walls were closing in, her chest tightening with every breath. Her mom’s hand moved in slow, steady circles on her back, trying to anchor her, but nothing felt real. Nothing felt okay.

“I—I don’t know,” she whispered, voice breaking. “I feel like I can’t breathe. Like my whole body is just—” She exhaled sharply, pressing her palm against her chest. “Like I’m drowning.”

Her mom gave her a moment, nodding softly. “I know, sweetheart. What else?”

Mair’s throat tightened. She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. “I feel sick. But I don’t even know if it’s from this or if it’s just everything else piling on top of me.”

Her mom’s fingers pressed a little more firmly against her shoulder, grounding her. “That makes sense. You’ve been carrying so much on your own.”

Mair let out a shaky, bitter laugh, her hands gripping her knees. “Yeah, and now I get to add this to it.” She gestured weakly to the test sitting beside them, her fingers trembling. “I—I can’t even wrap my head around it. How is this happening?”

Her mom hesitated before saying, “I know it’s overwhelming, but I promise you, you’re going to be okay.”

Mair shook her head quickly, her breath catching. “Mom, I—I don’t even know what to do. I don’t know how to do this alone.” Her voice cracked on the last word, raw and broken, and she felt herself crumbling all over again.

Her mom’s expression softened, her hand squeezing Mair’s tightly. “You’re not alone, Mair. You have me. You have Dad. You have everyone who loves you. And whatever you decide, we’re right here.”

Mair let out a shuddering breath, gripping onto her mom as if she might disappear. And then, the words slipped out before she could stop them, her voice barely above a whisper.

“And I can’t stop thinking about the baby being his and he’s not here.”

The moment she said it, the floodgates broke. Tears spilled freely down her face, her body shaking as she finally let herself feel it—the sheer devastation of knowing that if she was pregnant, this baby would be his. That no matter how much space she put between them, a part of him would be tied to her forever.

Mair sniffled, her fingers curling into the fabric of her sweatpants as she tried to steady her breathing. The weight of it all sat heavy on her chest, pressing down, making it impossible to think clearly.

“And I’m thinking about how much he would love this”.

She let out a shaky breath and leaned against the cold bathroom sink, clutching the edge with white-knuckled fists. Her mind was racing, a blur of emotions, of memories. Austin. He would’ve been so excited. She remembered their late-night talks, the way he would playfully nudge her and say, “One day, when we have a baby…” He’d always been so sure about it. So certain.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the images of him, trying to keep the flood of emotions at bay. She couldn’t deal with them yet. Not right now. Her body felt like it was trembling with every heartbeat, and no matter how hard she tried to steady herself, the overwhelming sensation of fear and heartbreak refused to leave.

“He would be so happy,” she whispered aloud, her voice breaking as the words escaped her. “You know how he is, he’s such a sap.”

She felt her mom’s steady presence behind her, soft fingertips brushing her back in rhythmic motions. A steady comfort. She didn’t have to turn around to know her mom was there, her presence warm and patient, trying not to push her to say more than she was ready to. But Mair couldn’t hold it in anymore.

The tears started, slow at first, then overwhelming, spilling down her cheeks in a steady stream. She wiped them away, but they kept coming, just like the thoughts that wouldn’t stop swirling in her head.

“Mom,” Mair whispered, almost hoarse from the tears. “I can’t even think about it without… without wanting to break down.”

Her voice cracked, and she let out a jagged breath, feeling the weight of everything in the room closing in. She thought about the baby, about how much Austin would have adored this. How they’d talked about it for so long. How excited he’d be. It was supposed to be something they celebrated together.

But now? She was alone in this. Alone in her heartbreak. Alone with the thought of raising a child without him. The baby was his. The baby was hers too. But somehow, it felt like the one thing they could’ve shared had slipped out of her grasp. She’d lost it before she even had the chance to tell him.

The tears came harder. She clutched the test in her hand like it might slip away if she didn’t hold it tight enough, like it might disappear if she just wished hard enough.

Her mom was quiet for a moment before she spoke again, her voice gentle but firm. “Sweetheart, I know you’re scared. And I know you’re hurt. But you don’t have to do this alone.”

Mair’s breath hitched. She turned around slowly, meeting her mom’s gaze, a mixture of pain and exhaustion in her eyes. “I don’t know how to do this, Mom. I—I’m terrified. I can’t stop thinking about the baby being his, and he’s not here. He should be here. He would be here, if he didn’t fuck everything up.”

Her chest heaved with each ragged breath. The weight of everything felt too much to bear. Austin was supposed to be here. He was supposed to be her partner in all of this. And now she was facing it alone. She didn’t know how to handle this.

Her mom placed a hand gently on her shoulder, pulling her close again. “I know, sweetheart. I know. But you’re strong. You always have been. You’ll figure this out.”

But Mair wasn’t sure anymore. She wasn’t sure of anything. The one constant in her life had always been Austin, and now, all that was left was pain, confusion, and a life that was about to change in ways she wasn’t ready for.

“And I don’t know how to tell him,” she whispered, her voice barely there. Saying it out loud made it feel even more real, like a boulder she couldn’t move, a reality she couldn’t escape.

Her mom sighed softly, brushing Mair’s hair back from her damp cheeks. “I know, sweetheart.” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “You don’t have to do it today. You can sit on it for a day or two, get your bearings.” She squeezed Mair’s hand gently. “But you will have to tell him, baby.”

Mair let out a shaky breath, nodding numbly. She knew that. Of course, she did. But the idea of picking up the phone, of hearing his voice, of telling him—it made her stomach churn.

“What if I just…” She trailed off, her lip trembling. “What if I just don’t?”

Her mom gave her a look, one filled with warmth but also a quiet firmness. “You can’t do that, Mair.”

Mair exhaled sharply through her nose, shaking her head. “He doesn’t deserve to know.” The anger burned through the sadness, lighting a fire in her chest. “He broke us, Mom. He looked me in the eyes and lied to me. He slept with me knowing what he did.” Her voice cracked, fresh tears slipping down her face. “How the hell am I supposed to tell him that I’m pregnant when I can’t even look at him?”

Her mom just let her sit in it for a moment, not trying to force her through the feelings, just letting them exist.

Then, quietly, she said, “I know this is the last thing you want to deal with. And I hate that you’re in this position. But this isn’t just about him.” She rubbed her thumb over the back of Mair’s hand. “It’s about you. And this baby. And no matter how much he’s hurt you, he’s still part of this.”

Mair swallowed hard, looking down at her lap, her head swimming. “I don’t even know how to say it.”

Her mom squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to know right now. But when you’re ready, we’ll figure it out.”

Mair closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, but all she felt was exhaustion. A bone-deep, soul-crushing exhaustion.

Nymeria padded softly into the bathroom, her paws clicking on the tile as she trotted in, sensing the change in the room’s atmosphere. She nudged Mair’s leg with her nose, offering a quiet, comforting presence. Mair smiled faintly, her heart aching but warmed by the familiar weight of her dog’s affection. Nymeria curled up next to Mair’s feet, resting her head on her lap as if offering silent support.

Mair’s mom, who had been watching the exchange, couldn’t help herself and desperately wanted to lift the mood. She looked at Nymeria and then turned to Mair with a teasing smile, trying to ease some of the heaviness in the room. “You know, I’m already picturing the baby getting Austin’s curly hair,” she said, her voice light with amusement. “Good luck with that, sweetheart. You’ll be in so much trouble trying to brush it. It’ll probably be all over the place!”

Mair let out a soft laugh, though it was more a breath than anything. She looked up at her mom, rolling her eyes. “Really, Mom?” she said, though her tone was far less sharp than it would have been just a few days ago. “Like, you have to remind me of the possibility of the baby looking just like him?” She shook her head with a small grin, her hands smoothing down Nymeria’s fur.

Her mom gave her a playful nudge. “Oh, I’m just saying, you might want to start investing in a good detangler right now. Her voice softened, and her smile faded slightly, her eyes filled with both humor and compassion.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Mair laughed. It wasn’t the kind of laugh that came easily or lightheartedly—it was bittersweet, a little broken—but it was a laugh nonetheless. It came from deep within her chest, and it felt like a crack in the dam that had been holding back her pain.

Mair wiped at her eyes, laughing softly again, this time more freely. “I don’t need to think about him right now,” she muttered, but there was still a warmth in her voice. “Of course, with my luck the baby is going to get his hair… and everything else that made him so impossible to deal with.” She looked down at Nymeria, who was still curled up against her, and let out a shaky breath.

Her mom smiled, her eyes softening as she watched her daughter begin to breathe again, even if it was just a little. “I know, sweetheart. I know. But it’s okay to laugh too, even if it feels strange.” She brushed a hand across Mair’s back again, the gesture both soothing and grounding. “It’s a start, right?”

Mair nodded, still stroking Nymeria’s fur absently, but the laughter had given her a fleeting sense of peace, a small reminder of who she was before everything fell apart. Her mind was still racing, the weight of her situation never far from her thoughts, but for that moment, she allowed herself to remember how it felt to laugh about something silly. Even if the joke was about something as simple as Austin’s hair, it was enough to remind her that not everything had to be dark and heavy. Even in the hardest times, there could be moments of light.

And in that brief space of time, with her mom beside her, Nymeria at her feet, and the house quiet around them, it felt like maybe—just maybe—she could find her way back to herself, step by step.

#austin #austin post #fanfic #post malone x oc #post malone x reader #post malone #post malone fanfic #bts #music #love #oneshot #high school sweethearts #rockstar au #rapper

2 notes · View notes