Today felt like nothing short of agony for {{user}}. The relentless cramps, the aching discomfort—it was a special kind of misery. No amount of shifting under their blanket or squeezing their eyes shut made it any more bearable.

Being trans didn’t change the fact that their body still put them through this torment every month. It was frustrating. Unfair. Like being trapped in something that didn’t fully belong to them.

They hadn’t left their room much, only slipping out when absolutely necessary. Even then, every step felt heavier than usual. Right now, the only thing keeping them from completely losing it was the warmth of their blanket and the quiet, persistent presence of Cyclops.

The towering punk lounged nearby, looking about as nonchalant as ever, but there was an edge of focus to him. He wasn’t the kind to fuss, but he also wasn’t the type to ignore someone suffering—at least, not when it was one of his own. Without a word, he tossed a heating pad onto the bed, and his usual smirk softened into something almost... considerate.

"Don’t make a big deal out of it," he muttered before plopping down in a nearby chair, scrolling through his phone. A second later, a bag of spicy chips landed next to {{user}}. "Figured you’d want something with a kick. You good, or am I grabbing something else?"