Planned

Glass shatters, a curse is screamed. This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't how they'd planned their lives. How Matt'd planned their lives. Matt wasn't supposed to be the one looking at those two pink lines in shocked disbelief. Brian wasn't supposed to be the one hopping for joy yelling "MY BABY'S PREGNANT." That wasn't how Matt planned it all. Nope, not at all.

It started after they came home from their honeymoon. Matt would wake up in the middle of the night with these uncontrollable urges to vomit. He'd retch until the only thing that came out of his mouth was watery bile. And in the back of his head he knew that Brian was supposed to be the one going through this and he was supposed to be the one rubbing Brian's back and stroking his hair. Not him hunched over the toilet bowl with Brian cuddled next to him, cooing soothing words.

Now a mirror is broken in a million pieces from Matt hurling the godforsaken test at it. And a "fuck you!" was tossed from his lips, but it went unnoticed as Brian jumped for joy. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen and Matt seriously wants nothing more than to just kill this thing that's growing inside him for ruining his plans.

~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**

This was what's supposed to happen. Brian was supposed to be the one carrying their child. Matt had decided that pregnancy would look amazing on Brian. He could see Brian's already radiant skin glowing from the miracle that was inside him. He could see his belly rounding to perfection and he could see Brian's weary but awed smile as he'd touch his husband's baby bump and coo loving incoherent words to their unborn child. He could see the extra weight that Brian would gain play off the defined cheekbones, rounding them magnificently. He could see Brian's hair shining and he could just see Brian being the most beautiful pregnant person in the world.

But, no.

Instead, this happened to Matt. His skin wasn't glowing. To him it had a sickly palour that made him want to throw up every time he looked in a mirror. His stomach looked out of shape and abnormal. More like a growth than a pregnancy. His hair was matted and greasy. The extra weight he gained from the pregnancy and his current diet of 3 jars of Nutella a day, gave him chipmunk cheeks and made him look massive. By and large he was the most hideous pregnant person in the world and he wanted to kill himself.

Of course, Brian doesn't see this. All he sees is that the love of his life is carrying their baby and he thinks he's gorgeous no matter what. But whenever he tried to get close to the bump, Matt just pushes him away.

~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~

Matt was supposed to be the one rubbing Brian's feet when they got too painfully swollen. He was supposed to look up in Brian's loving face as he soothed away the discomfort with callused yet soft fingers. He was supposed to play "this little piggy" with Brian's plumped toes and laugh when Brian fought to hold back giggles because Brian was too manly to do such a thing.

Brian wasn't supposed to be the one wrestling with Matt's engorged feet as Matt tried his hardest to kick Brian away because Matt didn't want to even acknowledge this pregnancy. Brian wasn't supposed to get so annoyed with Matt that he'd actually threaten to take the kid and leave. Matt wasn't supposed to get so insecure that he'd tell Brian he'd be lucky if he didn't kill the kid in the first place.

They weren't supposed to spend days on end where Brian would stay at Zacky's house because he couldn't bear to live with a man who harbored so much hatred towards their own unborn child. They weren't supposed to spend days on end where Matt wouldn't apologize because he was too macho to recognize his mistake.

They definitely weren't supposed to spend days on end at their various destinations where they just cried and wished that the other lover would understand what they were going through. None of this was supposed to happened. Matt had it all planned out.

~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~

Matt's pov:

I'm sitting curled up on my couch with Brian's pillow. I'm sobbing because it smells like him and, Jesus, I miss him. I'm watching our wedding DVD while miserably eating out of my Nutella jar. This is the longest Brian has ever been away from me and I'm scared. Suppose he never comes back? Suppose I'm stuck raising this kid all by myself? I see the kiss on the screen and I wail. I just want Brian back. What I said was totally out of line and disgusting and oh my god. There's the sound a keys turning in the lock.

I turn from the TV and switch to face the door. Who is it? Maybe it's my patents. I haven't left the house since the bump started showing so it's been a good 8 1/2 months. The baby's due any day now. So it's probably my parents at the door. Coming to check up on their pregnant, hideous son. Coming to check up on the man who has nothing to live for since his husband has left and most likely won't come back.

And there he is. There's Brian. My Brian. Standing in the doorway. His hair kinda gelled back, and his eyes slightly rimmed with light black. He stares at me and I stare at him. I can feel the sparks prickle my skin and I rub my arms. I feel a sob bubbling in my throat but I try to keep it down. I stare at him. Standing in the doorway looking beautiful, as if looking beautiful is the only thing he knows how to do so he does it with all his might. He pulls the door in behind him and bolts it. Then he turns back to me and says "I love you."

That does it. A choked sob escapes my lips and I knock the pillow and Nutella away and scramble off the couch. I make a mad dash at Brian and grab him into my arms. It's awkward what with my large stomach but I missed him. He holds me up as I break down and blubber about how much I missed him and how sorry I am and I promise him to be the best father in the world. And he holds me up and tells me he's sorry for leaving and that he has no doubt that I will be.

Once I calm down, I apologize for the tears and blame it on my raging hormone imbalances. But Brian just smiles. That smile that caught me all those years ago and tells me it's okay.

"Matt?"

I sniffle before replying. "Y-yeah, Bribear?"

"Will you let me rub your feet?"

I squeeze him tighter, I swear I hear a soft pop of vertebrae but I don't care. I tell him it's okay. I'd love for him to rub my feet.

And then I hear the sound of gushing water and I feel warmth traveling down my legs. A whimper of pain passes my lips as I cling to Brian while a powerful contraction shoots me. I moan his name and tell him he fucking needs to get me to a goddamned hospital because his demon spawn he impregnated me with is coming right fucking now!

~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~

This wasn't supposed to happen. Brian was supposed to be the one bearing the pain like a goddess while Matt stroked his hand. He was supposed to be the one who'd decide to do it all naturally and would face each contraction with a slight grimace and freezing his muscles until it passed. He was supposed to be the one to deny an epidural with a beautiful smile on his face until it became time for the C-section.

Matt wasn't supposed to be the one writhing in pain on the bed even before a contraction hit. He wasn't supposed to be the one screaming at everyone and no one in particular to get him a fucking epidural. He wasn't supposed to one crying out and on the verge of tears when a contraction hit him like a seismic wave. And he definitely wasn't supposed to be the one who wanted to be knocked completely unconscious when they got this baby out.

~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~

Matt's pov:

Brian hasn't left my side the entire time. He's been there holding my hand even when I'm sure I heard some of his bones crack a bit. He whispers soothing words as he presses his lips to my hair, my temple, my hand, my arms. I don't think I've ever loved him more than in this moment. He's so good to me despite the fact I literally threatened to get an abortion. I look over at him and smile.

"I love you," I say.

And he smiles back. That smile that gives me butterflies each time. "I love you too." He leans forward to kiss me.

But then this sharp pain sears through me and I scream. Just before my eyes screw up shut I see Brian rushing out of the room screaming hysterically for a "doctor, a nurse, someone!" And he sounds so concerned and I hate myself for him through this. All this bullshit throughout our pregnancy. I'm lucky he hasn't divorced me.

More pain takes hold of my body and I don't know what the fuck's wrong. I got a fuckin' epidural so why am I in so much pain? And where's Brian? I'm terrified right now so I yell out his name. He needs to get here. He needs to tell me I'll be okay.

Doctors and nurses rush in and soon my hand is in Brian's again. He whispers all the comfort in the world, trying to drown out the noises of the medical personnel. But nothing can drown out when I hear them say I'll need to push.

"What the actual fuck?!" I roar. "I'm not pushing a fucking baby out my ass! NO! I refuse! CUT ME OPEN."

A nurse looks at me sympathetically. "Now, Mister Handers, I understand that that might be a scary idea to you, but the baby is in distress and we need to get it out right now. It won't tolerate labour much longer."

"What?! I'm the one bringing it into the fucking world! Where the hell does this child get off telling me what it can or cannot tolerate?"

Brian slips his free hand down my temple, stroking my skin. Then he brushes his thumb under my eyes and I realize I'm crying because I'm so scared. "Matt," he whispers. "You'll be fine. You and our baby will be just fine."

I turn my head away and nod.

One of the doctors gets between my legs and tells me I need to start pushing. Take a deep breath and push for ten seconds. So I inhale and hold it while Brian keeps telling me I'm doing good. I'm doing good.

~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~

This wasn't supposed to happen. Brian was supposed to have a C-section and burst into tears when he heard the baby cry for the first time. If it were a boy it would be named Hunter. If it were a girl it would be named Skylar. Matt was supposed to bring the baby to Brian so he could kiss the tiny face and then they'd argue that "she looks like you, Brian." or "he looks like you, Matt." Then Brian was supposed to sleep and Matt would look at his gorgeous face and wonder how on earth he got so damned lucky.

Matt wasn't supposed to be the one screaming because he was in such excruciating pain despite the epidural. He wasn't supposed to be the one bearing down on his haunches begging God to let this baby come out quick.

Brian wasn't supposed to be the one feeling panicked when the doctors and nurses were yelling for things he didn't understand. He wasn't supposed to be the one asking what's going on and not receiving an answer. He wasn't supposed to be the one feeling heart-wrenching finality when Matt whispers "I can't... I love you Bribear...". He wasn't supposed to be the one screaming in hysterics when Matt's grip on his hand loosens and his harsh breathing slows to a stop. Brian wasn't supposed to be the one grabbing the doctor delivering the baby by the neck and screaming "you killed them!" when his daughter comes out but doesn't cry.

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Brian's pov:

I hold the doctor by his good for nothing neck, wanting to squeeze the life out of him. "You killed my husband!" I holler. "You killed my baby girl!" his face is turning blue but I don't care. "You took everything I hold dear away from me! I will fucking end your career. I'll end all of your careers! But I'll fucking kill you first!"

I feel a prick in my arm and immediately I slump to the floor. My vision swims and I can just feel myself drowning in my sorrow. I'm trying to fight back but I'm falling through the floor. Gasp for air.

~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~

Matt was supposed to be the one who'd sing lullabies to Skylar when she was cranky. Matt was supposed to be the one who'd change her diaper while Brian mixes more formula because the girl is always hungry. They were supposed to stand over her crib, watching their angel sleep. Brian was supposed to be the one leaning into Matt's embrace. Matt was supposed to be the one holding him and telling him "you did good, baby."

Brian was never supposed to be the one sitting in a church, clad in black and ignoring everyone except Zacky, Johnny and Arin. He wasn't supposed to be the one who had to tell the fandom that they lost yet another Avenged Sevenfold member. He wasn't supposed to be the one who breaks down when he has to tell those kids that Avenged Sevenfold was over.

He wasn't supposed to be the one who'd have to be held back because he was screaming at the priest, begging him to bring Matt and Skylar back. He wasn't supposed to be the one who nearly passes out because his grief is consuming him and he can't breathe. He wasn't supposed to be the one who all but throws himself in Matt and Skylar's coffin. He wasn't supposed to be the one who'd decide that they should be buried with Matt holding her. He wasn't supposed to be the one who collapses under the weight of the unfinished story hidden inside the casket on his shoulders.

Brian isn't supposed to be the one with his brains splattered on the walls and his body crumpled on the floor. He isn't supposed to be the one who painstakingly carved Matt and Skylar's name onto a single bullet so they'd be the last thing in his head.

This isn't supposed to happen.

But some things never go as planned.