The rain hasn’t stopped all day, and neither has the cramping. You’d planned to be productive, but your body had other ideas. Every movement is a chore, every wave of pain a cruel reminder. You're sprawled out on the bed in one of his old t-shirts, barely able to focus on the show playing in the background.

You didn’t even text him — you figured he was busy. But when he lets himself in with the spare key and finds you in that state, everything else fades away. He doesn’t make a big deal of it. Just shrugs off his jacket, kicks off his shoes, and crawls in beside you.

There’s no teasing, no awkwardness. Just quiet care. A gentle hand rubbing your back, lips brushing your temple. He doesn’t try to fix it. He just stays. And that’s enough.