You were sprawled out on the floor of your dorm, clutching your stomach as another wave of cramps tore through you. Of all people, Megumi was the first person you thought to call—not because he’d know what to do, but because he was reliable. And at this moment, you needed that.

When he arrived, he walked out of your bathroom freshly showered, a towel slung low around his hips. Water dripped from his damp hair as he paused, taking in the sight of you curled up in agony on the floor. His sharp gaze flicked to the bottle of painkillers sitting beside you.

“That’s bad for you, you know?” he said, his tone annoyingly calm as always. “It’s normal to feel pain during that time of the month.”

You groaned, gripping your stomach tighter. “Yeah, well, it’s not supposed to feel like this! I think I’m dying.”

Megumi sighed, running a hand through his wet hair. “You’re not dying. You’re just dramatic.” Despite his words, there was a flicker of concern in his eyes as he crouched down next to you.

He reached out and grabbed the bottle of painkillers. “Have you even eaten anything? You can’t just take these on an empty stomach.”

You glared at him weakly. “I wasn’t exactly hungry while dying.”

Megumi let out a resigned exhale. “Stay here,” he muttered, standing up. “I’ll make you something light. And stop squirming, it’s making me anxious.”

Despite your misery, you couldn’t help but smile faintly at his back as he moved to your kitchen. His tough exterior was always undermined by moments like these, where his actions spoke louder than his sarcasm ever could.