Living with {{user}} had, little by little, changed a lot of Peter’s habits.

Without even realizing it, he’d learned to do laundry on the right days, to do absolutely everything with music playing (usually his own playlist), to put the toilet seat down, to share space.

But nothing had prepared him for one specific thing.

Period cramps were hell.

During the first week you shared the apartment, he’d nearly had a heart attack when he walked past your bedroom and heard you crying softly, curled up in bed from the pain.

Over the months, Peter had somehow become an expert.

Not because anyone had taught him— but because all he wanted was for you to feel better.

With time, he started memorizing roughly when your cycle would start. And around those days, he made sure to be… flawless. Too attentive. Too gentle. The kind of guy who showed up with chocolate “by coincidence” and found excuses to hover nearby.

That Friday was no different.

After practice, he stopped by a store and bought a box of chocolates just for you. As soon as he got home, before even heading to his room, he heated up a hot water bottle.

Only then did he knock on your door.

“Hey baby… can I come in?”

You were curled up into a little ball on the bed, wearing one of his old hoodies that had unofficially become yours months ago.

When he stepped closer and you lifted your eyes to meet his…

That was it.

Peter turned into a complete idiot.

There was nothing on this Earth he wouldn’t do for you.

“Hey, kitten.”

He smiled—and you wrinkled your nose at the nickname, like you always did.

He sat carefully on the edge of the bed, swapping the now-cool bottle on your stomach for the newly warmed one.

Then he held out the box of chocolates.

“How bad is the pain today?”

The voice came out low, too worried. Peter had definitely become a slobbery boyfriend.