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Pomeg wasn’t exactly sure why or how he’d come into ownership of four, innocent eggs.
They were his, he knew that much. But they didn’t give him that paternal feeling- the instinct to protect them with his life. They didn’t truly feel like his.
He wasn’t sure why he was still hiding them from ARG- after he’d had them, he tucked them away in the lowest nightstand drawer and hadn’t said a word to his lover about them. He didn’t know if ARG wanted them, let alone if he himself wanted them either.
He knew that the eggs were theirs. He would admit, he and ARG hadn’t been particularly careful the night before Pomeg had expelled the eggs from his body. But he didn’t mention anything to ARG at all after the fact, scared of his reaction.
They weren’t ready to be parents to kits. Neither of them even knew if it was possible to have normal Drop Clown kits, and they didn’t want to burden their kits with the same suffering they both were forced to endure on the daily. As much as they both fantasized the thoughts of having kits together, they both knew it would just be near unobtainable.
Pomeg opened the nightstand drawer, staring down at the four small eggs that were within.
So then how did I have them? He asked himself, sitting on his knees on the bedroom floor, peering into the drawer. A week ago, he’d had them- confused and scared, hiding in his and ARG’s shared bathroom curled up on the floor. He felt next to nothing for the eggs at first, only fear consuming him when he’d first seen them.
He didn’t hate them, but he didn’t feel any warmth towards them either. Not then, and not now. He considered breaking them the night he’d laid them, if only to save them from himself. He’d only just barely held back from doing so, deciding to put them away in the drawer instead so he wouldn’t have to look at them.
Regardless, he checked on them daily, despite not knowing if he wanted them to hatch or not. They just made him feel… Weird, inside.
He reached into the drawer, picking up the biggest egg inside and staring at it.
“You take after ARG,” Pomeg said quietly, as if the egg would be able to hear him. He turned it over a few times, inspecting it carefully. He wasn’t even sure if the eggs would hatch, or if they were even fertilized in the first place. He just kept assuming they were.
What will he even think, if he finds out about you four? Pomeg thought to himself. His throat tightened as he kept staring down at the egg, his hand shaking and threatening to drop it. Panic was already settling in as his mind started thinking of every worst-case scenario, of what ARG would possibly think of him after the fact.
He couldn’t let them hatch. He couldn’t let ARG know. An almost primal instinct took over his senses, one that told him only to destroy the life within his hands.
Without even thinking about what he was doing, Pomeg bit down on the egg in his grasp, cracking it open with his teeth. A black, inky yolk filled his mouth, and he had to stop himself from gagging at the sharp flavor. It was bitter, and it tasted almost like what he’d imagine static to taste like.
He gulped it down after a few moments, shoving the rest of the eggshell into his mouth with a trembling hand. He forced himself to consume it, getting rid of his own eggs in the only way he knew how.
Before he was even finished with the first one, he dug into the drawer and pulled out the next egg. The taste of the yolk made him want to throw up, but he felt as though he had to consume. He didn’t know what else to do, amid his fear. He was unable to stop himself. The animalistic urge to save his own young from himself overtook him entirely as he continued to eat, the eggshells cracking in his mouth and the thick, black bile filling his throat.
The taste only kept getting worse after each one he grabbed and bit down on. He felt utterly nauseous. His mind told him to stop, but his body didn’t listen. He barely even remembered reaching for the third or fourth, but when he’d finally come back to his senses, chest tight and his eyes welling up with tears, they were all gone.
Small bits of eggshell were littered on the wood tile floor, the only remnants of the eggs he’d consumed in his frenzy.
He should’ve felt better. He hadn’t let them hatch, he hadn’t let them become like him or ARG- and yet, the only thing he felt was guilt and regret.
Picking up a few of the pieces of eggshell that remained on the floor, he brought them to his mouth too with a choked sob.