Astrid
I watched the twins disappear around the corner, Ivy’s jacket still tied awkwardly around my waist.
"They’re going to come back with the wrong thing," I said.
"Maybe they know what they’re doing," Ivy offered, though she didn’t sound convinced either.
I gave her a look. "They looked like two men walking into battle."
That got a laugh out of her, and something in my chest loosened just slightly.
"Come on," she said, tugging my sleeve. "Bathroom."
She steered me through the crowd before anyone else could get a good look, and once we were inside, she waited by the door while I cleaned myself up as best I could.
The ache settled low in my stomach as I worked, familiar and unpleasant, but it was the memory attached to it that caught me off guard. My mother, years ago, guiding me through this exact same thing for the first time, her hands steady and sure while mine had shaken. She’d explained everything patiently, helped me clean up, made sure I had something comfortable to wear, warmed a cloth against my stomach and pressed it there herself. There’s nothing shameful about this, she’d told me, laughing gently at how mortified I’d been.
She’d made something frightening feel almost ordinary.
My hands slowed at the sink. My throat tightened.
She wasn’t here to do that anymore. She’d never do it again.
When I stepped back out, Ivy took one look at my face and frowned. "Hey. What’s wrong?"
"Nothing," I said.
"You look like you’re about to cry."
I looked away, unable to hold her gaze. "I miss home," I finally admitted.
Her expression softened. "I miss home too." Then, gently, "At least I’ll get to go back when the semester ends."
I said nothing. I thought about the brothel, my mother’s room, everything I’d left behind in ash and blood.
"I don’t think there’s anything for me to go back to," I said quietly.
Ivy didn’t push for an explanation. She simply stepped closer and wrapped me in a small, warm hug.
"Then we’ll make somewhere else feel like home," she said.
I didn’t know how to answer that. I let myself lean into it anyway.
When we finally stepped back into the hallway, I expected to find the twins waiting. Instead, I found something far worse.
Reed and Xander stood there surrounded by an absolutely absurd number of shopping bags.
I stopped walking. Ivy stopped beside me.
"What... did you buy?" I asked.
Xander looked completely serious. "Everything."
Reed’s expression suggested deep, personal regret, though clearly not directed at me.
"We didn’t know which ones you use," Xander explained.
"So you bought all of them?" I said.
"There were options."
"Too many options," Reed muttered.
Xander ignored him and launched into a full inventory. Different brands. Different sizes. Different absorbencies. Overnight ones. Thinner ones. Heating patches. Painkillers. A small mountain of chocolate bars tucked into the last bag, apparently for good measure.
Ivy started laughing first. I tried to hold it in and failed completely, both of us dissolving into laughter while Xander looked between us, clearly offended.
"What’s funny?"
I wiped at my eyes. "You bought enough pads to supply the entire academy."
"We weren’t taking chances," he said, unbothered.
Reed looked down at the bags like he was reconsidering every decision that had led him to this exact moment. "I told him we only needed one package."
Xander pointed at him. "And what if it wasn’t the right one?"
I laughed harder, until I noticed the students slowing down around us, staring at the bags with growing curiosity.
"Are those pads?" someone whispered.
"The Ashwood twins bought them?"
"For Astrid?"
"What’s going on between them?"
My whole face went up in flames. Xander finally seemed to register the audience we’d gathered. Reed looked increasingly uncomfortable.
I grabbed one package out of the nearest bag. "I’ll take this," I said, and started walking fast.
"Is one enough?" Reed called after me.
I turned, completely deadpan. "Yes. I’m not bleeding an entire ocean."
Xander burst out laughing behind me. Even Reed’s mouth twitched. I kept walking before either of them could see exactly how red my face had gotten.
By the time we made it back to the apartment, the embarrassment had faded into exhaustion, the cramps settling in worse by the minute. I sat down on the couch and tried to pretend everything was fine.
"I’m fine," I said, before anyone could ask.
Xander eyed me suspiciously. "You keep saying that."
"Because I am."
Reed set something warm beside me without a word.
"You’re not," he said.
I looked down. A heating pad, already warm. "Where did you get this?"
"We bought it."
Xander reappeared with an armful of blankets. "And these."
I stared at him. "I don’t need three blankets."
"You look cold."
"I’m not cold."
He draped one over me anyway.
Reed brought water a few minutes later. Xander brought a plate of food I hadn’t asked for.
"Do you need anything?" Reed asked.
"No."
Five minutes later. "Are you sure?"
"Yes."
A few minutes after that. "Pain worse?"
I finally cracked. "You two are acting like I’m dying."
Xander looked genuinely alarmed. "Are you sure you’re not?"
I stared at him, then laughed despite myself. "It’s a period, Xander."
"I’ve gathered that."
"Then stop looking like someone stabbed me."
Reed said quietly, "Leave her alone."
Xander looked wounded. "I’m helping."
I smiled. "You are. Just... badly."
Eventually I settled deeper into the blankets, the heating pad doing its quiet work against my stomach. Reed sat nearby with a book he wasn’t really reading, glancing over every few minutes. Xander occupied the opposite side of the room, pretending not to check on me while doing exactly that every few seconds.
I watched them both, the ridiculous pile of blankets, the growing stack of unused pad boxes on the counter, the water glass Reed had refilled twice without asking.
For years, being cared for had felt dangerous, because the one person who’d ever made me feel safe was gone, and nothing since had come close to filling that space.
But here were two boys who clearly had no idea what they were doing, hovering anyway, simply because I was hurting and they didn’t know how else to help.
They didn’t need to know what they were doing.
They were trying.
And for the first time since I’d lost my mother, I realized something that scared me more than any of today’s embarrassment ever could.
Being taken care of didn’t feel impossible anymore.
It felt nice.
I tried to push the thought away immediately.
I couldn’t quite stop the small smile that followed it anyway.