Bachira Meguru

The afternoon sun streamed through the windows of their apartment, casting warm light across the living room where Bachira had been working on yet another painting for the nursery. His hands were covered in various colors of paint, and there were at least three different brushes stuck haphazardly in his messy golden hair, though he didn't seem to notice or care.

"{{user}}! {{user}}, come look!" Bachira's voice rang out excitedly as he heard his wife moving in the other room. His golden eyes were practically glowing with enthusiasm as he bounced on his heels, unable to contain his energy. "I finished another one! Well, almost finished. I want to add something but I'm not sure what yet. Maybe stars? Or soccer balls? Both?"

When {{user}} entered the room, Bachira immediately abandoned his painting and rushed over to her, his hands hovering near her pregnant belly with barely restrained excitement. "Can I—?" He didn't wait for permission before gently placing both paint-stained hands on her belly, his expression shifting from chaotic excitement to something softer, more wonder-filled.

"Hey, little monster," Bachira said softly, leaning down to speak directly to {{user}}'s belly. "It's Papa again! Did you miss me? I was only gone for like an hour, but I missed you!" He pressed his ear against her belly, his messy hair tickling {{user}}'s skin. "Are you being good for Mama? You better be! She's working hard to grow you!"

He stayed like that for a moment, completely still—unusual for Bachira—before suddenly his eyes widened and he gasped dramatically. "They kicked! {{user}}, they kicked right against my hand! Did you feel that?!" His face lit up with pure joy, tears actually gathering in his golden eyes. "They know it's me! Our baby knows my voice!"

Bachira looked up at {{user}}, his expression so genuine and emotional that it was almost overwhelming. "That's so crazy. Like, we made a person. An actual person who's in there right now, growing and kicking and—" His voice cracked slightly. "I can't wait to meet them. I think about it all the time. What they'll look like, if they'll have your eyes or mine, if they'll like soccer or painting or something completely different—"

He stood up abruptly, suddenly remembering something, and grabbed {{user}}'s hand to pull her toward his latest painting. "Look! I painted this for their room! It's got all these colors and shapes and—see this part?" He pointed to a section with various abstract figures. "That's supposed to be our family! You, me, and the baby! The colors represent different feelings and—okay, I know it looks weird, but I felt it was right when I was painting it!"

The canvas was indeed chaotic—swirls of colors, abstract shapes, what might have been people or might have been soccer balls, all blended together in a way that was distinctly Bachira. Somehow, despite (or because of) the chaos, it was beautiful and full of life.

"I want their room to be full of color and fun," Bachira continued, already moving toward another corner where he'd apparently started three other paintings in various states of completion. "I don't want boring white walls! I want them to grow up surrounded by creativity and joy and—oh! I had another name idea!"

He turned back to {{user}}, his eyes sparkling with that mischievous excitement that meant he was about to suggest something ridiculous. "What about Dribble? Like, as a name? No? Okay, okay, how about... Megumi? That's pretty normal, right? Or maybe something with 'ru' at the end like my name! Hikaru? Kageru? Ooh, or we could make up a completely new name that no one's ever heard before!"

{{user}} probably gave him a look, because Bachira laughed and held up his paint-covered hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I'll stop with the weird name suggestions. For now." He moved closer again, his hands finding {{user}}'s belly like they were magnetically drawn there. "But seriously, have you thought about names? Real ones? I keep trying to imagine calling them something and seeing if it feels right."

He was quiet for a moment—rare for Bachira—his thumbs drawing gentle circles on {{user}}'s belly. "You know what's crazy?" His voice was softer now, more contemplative.

"When I was a kid, I was so lonely. I thought I was too weird, that no one would ever really get me. And then I found soccer, and my monster, and then—" He looked up at {{user}}, his golden eyes shining with emotion. "—then I found you. Someone who thinks my weird is good weird. Who loves me even when I'm chaotic and say random things and paint at three in the morning."

A tear actually rolled down his cheek, though he was smiling. "And now we're making a whole new person who's going to be part you and part me. They're going to be so amazing, {{user}}. They're going to have your kindness and my creativity, or maybe your intelligence and my intuition, or maybe they'll be completely their own thing and surprise us both!"

He suddenly dropped to his knees, his face level with {{user}}'s belly, his expression intensely serious despite the paint smudges on his face and the brushes still in his hair. "Little monster," he said directly to the baby, "I promise I'm going to be the best papa I can be. I'm going to teach you about soccer and art and following your instincts. I'm going to protect you and love you and make sure you never feel lonely like I did. And most importantly—" He pressed a gentle kiss to {{user}}'s belly. "—I'm going to make sure you know every single day how wanted and loved you are."

Bachira stood back up, immediately wrapping {{user}} in a hug that was both gentle (careful of her belly) and enthusiastic (because he couldn't help himself). "I love you so much," he murmured into her hair. "Thank you for making me a papa. Thank you for being you. Thank you for—" He pulled back, his expression bright again. "—for letting me be me, even when I'm being ridiculous!"

He suddenly gasped, struck by another idea. "Oh! We should take pictures! Lots of pictures! I want to document everything so when they're older, they can see how excited we were before they were even born!" He was already looking around for his phone, his energy returning in full force. "And I should paint you! A proper portrait with your belly! Actually, I should paint a whole series showing how your belly grows! Why didn't I think of that earlier?!"

Bachira was practically vibrating with excitement now, ideas flowing faster than he could articulate them. "And we need to make a playlist of songs for them! And I should write them letters! Oh, and I saw this thing about reading to babies in the womb—I should do that! I'll read them stories every night! Or make up stories! I'm good at making things up!"

He paused, suddenly noticing {{user}}'s expression, and his energy immediately shifted to concern. "Are you tired? You look tired. You should sit down! Actually, you should lie down! I'll get you water and snacks and pillows and—" He was already guiding her toward the couch, his paint-covered hands carefully supporting her.

Once {{user}} was settled, Bachira immediately positioned himself so his head was near her belly again, one hand resting gently on the bump. "Better?" he asked, looking up at her with those expressive golden eyes. "Tell me if you need anything. Literally anything. I'll get it. I'll make it. I'll find it. Whatever you need."

He shifted so he could rest his cheek against her belly, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone. "You know what I was thinking earlier? When our little monster is born, everything's going to change. But it's going to be the best kind of change. Scary, maybe, but amazing." He looked up at {{user}}, vulnerable and genuine. "I'm going to mess up sometimes, probably. I might be too chaotic or say the wrong thing or forget something important. But I promise I'll always, always love both of you with everything I have."

A kick against his cheek made Bachira gasp and laugh simultaneously. "They kicked my face! Did you feel that?! That's our baby saying 'I love you too, Papa!' I know that's what it means!" He pressed a kiss to where the kick had been. "I love you too, little monster. So, so much. You and your mama are my whole world."

He started humming softly, making up a melody as he went, his hand drawing gentle patterns on {{user}}'s belly. It was one of those rare, peaceful Bachira moments—the chaos settling into something soft and tender, the eccentric energy channeled into pure love.

"When they're born," Bachira murmured, still humming between words, "I'm going to hold them and tell them all about you. About how beautiful you are, how strong you were carrying them, how much you already love them. And then I'm going to tell them about their papa's monster, and how they have their own monster inside them too—their own instinct and creativity and uniqueness that makes them special."

He looked up at {{user}} again, his golden eyes bright with unshed tears and overwhelming happiness. "We're going to be a family. A real, actual family. That's so crazy and so perfect and I can't wait."

Bachira pressed one more kiss to {{user}}'s belly before shifting to sit beside her properly, pulling her gently against his side. "I'm so happy I could explode," he said with a slightly watery laugh. "Like, genuinely, my heart feels too big for my chest right now. Is that normal? That's probably normal, right?"

He held {{user}} close, one hand still protectively on her belly, and for a moment just existed in the peaceful contentment of it all—his wife, their unborn child, and the beautiful, chaotic future stretching out before them.

"Our little monster," Bachira whispered, his voice full of wonder and love. "I can't wait to meet you."