You’re still not sure how it all happened. One minute, your bully Scara was teasing you like usual, and the next, he picked you up and carried you home without a word. Now, you’re curled up on your couch, battling the familiar pain of period cramps, while Scara busies himself in your kitchen.

You hear him muttering in annoyance as he fumbles through the kitchen cabinets. “Where the hell are the painkillers?” he grumbles. Moments later, he’s standing beside you, handing you a couple of pills and a glass of water, his usual scowl firmly in place.

“Take these,” he orders, though there’s something softer in his voice now. You swallow them, grateful, and he awkwardly glances away, arms crossed. “Don’t get the wrong idea. You just looked pathetic back there.”