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Neil woke up nauseous. Based on the distinct discomfort and stabbing pain in his lower abdomen and the fact that he hadn’t had a nightmare, he deduced that the nausea was period-induced. He sighed softly and rolled gingerly out of bed, careful to not disturb his sleeping boyfriend.
Neil popped a couple pain pills and stepped into the shower. Luckily he hadn’t bled through his shorts in the night. The first time that had happened he’d been mortified and barricaded himself in the laundry room with the stained sheets and clothes for a few hours. The dorm had been empty when he returned, allowing him to re-make the bed in peace. But then Andrew had walked in with a bag full of pain pills, a hot water bottle, a box of Neil’s preferred pads and his favourite smoothie flavour from the local cafe. Neil had tried to apologize, but Andrew wouldn’t hear it. They’d spent the rest of the day curled up on the couch snacking and watching shark documentaries.
Neil dressed in loose sweats, a sports bra and a hoodie Kevin had left on the back of the couch. It was only 4:30 in the morning but Neil was wide awake. The pain pills hadn’t kicked in yet and although Neil’s pain tolerance was quite high, it was getting to be unbearable. He hunted down the hot water bottle (it was under the couch for some reason) and filled it with boiling water from the kettle and settled on the couch, in the fetal position. It was at this point when Neil’s dysphoria was strongest; he felt vulnerable and weak and couldn’t do anything but lay there as nasty thoughts circled his head. He knew that it was okay for boys to have periods. But that didn’t change the fact that it fucking sucked.
He didn’t drift off like he hoped he would. He laid there for an hour until he heard a quiet shuffling and a creaking floorboard. Andrew’s head appeared over the back of the couch, his hair a mess of wild curls, his eyes heavy and a bit bloodshot. He took one look at Neil’s curled form and the hot water bottle he was clutching against his belly and turned to the kitchen to make his morning hot chocolate. When he returned he had a second mug. He set it on the coffee table in front of Neil. It was his favourite tea.
“Thanks,” Neil croaked.
Andrew grunted and settled on the other end of the couch, lifting Neil’s feet into his lap.
They sat in comfortable silence for half an hour before Neil’s stomach gurgled and a slice of pain had him curling in on himself. He heaved himself off the couch and shuffled to the bathroom. When he returned Andrew handed him the tea and watched Neil take a handful of sips before taking the hot water bottle to the kitchen to refill it.
“You don’t have to dote on me,” Neil muttered when Andrew returned.
Andrew said nothing, just pointed to the mug. Neil took another sip.
At some point Kevin stumbled out of bed and muttered a sleepy good morning to them on his way to the bathroom. He emerged with a bit of toothpaste smeared on his chin a few minutes later.
“Get dressed,” he said from the kitchen where he was assembling a bowl of oatmeal. “Have you two eaten?”
Neither of them answered, so Kevin poured a bowl of Cheerios for Andrew and cut up some fruit for Neil. “Come eat.”
Andrew glared at his non-sugary cereal but dutifully munched his way through it. Neil managed half of the fruit before pushing the bowl away. Apparently desperate for any form of sugar, Andrew finished the rest. Kevin glanced at Neil in confusion but didn’t say anything.
Neil changed his pad before they left, shoving a handful into his duffel bag just in case. Andrew came up behind him and added a box of ibuprofen.
Practice started out fine. Exy was an effective distraction and exercise did help reduce period pain, at least in Neil’s case. But after a while he could tell his 4:30 painkiller dose was starting to wear off. Thankfully Wymack called them off for a break. Neil managed to slip away from the group to retrieve some of the painkillers Andrew stashed in his bag. He tossed them into his mouth and washed them down with a swig of water just as Kevin entered the locker room.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
Neil shoved his bag back into the locker and sat on the bench. “No. It’s nothing.”
Kevin frowned and took a few steps forward until he was right in front of Neil, their knees nearly brushing. “Neil.”
Neil sighed at Kevin’s persistence. “It’s period pain.”
Kevin blinked, his shoulders relaxing. “Oh. Do you need—”
“I don’t need anything,” Neil interrupted. “It’s fine. Just uncomfortable.” He didn’t need pity. He didn’t need special treatment. He needed to get back on the court. “Ready?” He didn’t wait for Kevin to answer before jogging back to join the others.
The painkillers kicked in and the rest of practice went off without a hitch. Neil even managed to get a few shots past Andrew, though Andrew wasn’t exactly exerting himself today. Neil felt Kevin’s eyes on him a few times, but that was easy enough to ignore.
Back at Fox Tower, Andrew kicked everyone out of the car before turning to Neil. “Columbia this evening?”
Neil nodded. Kevin, Nicky and Aaron would surely want to go to Eden’s, but Neil didn’t care. When Neil’s period coincided with the weekend, Andrew always suggested Columbia—just the two of them. Neil appreciated the chance to writhe in pain without having to worry about the others seeing and commenting.
It took Andrew and Neil five minutes to pack their bags after afternoon practice. Nicky pouted about missing Eden’s, and Aaron looked peeved, but Kevin just said be back in time for practice on Monday.
The drive lulled Neil into a fitful dose and he woke up just as they entered the neighbourhood. Neil shoved his door open after Andrew parked in the driveway and wanted to scream at the sudden rush of wetness in his underwear. He examined the seat but luckily hadn’t bled through. He waddled to join Andrew on the porch and as soon as the door was unlocked, he made a beeline for the bathroom.
His second dose of painkillers had worn off and all Neil could do was collapse on the couch.
Andrew appeared in front of him, eyes assessing Neil from head to toe. “What do you need?”
Neil shut his eyes against a wave of pain. “Ibuprofen. Hot water bottle.”
Andrew disappeared.
Neil must have fallen asleep because it felt like only five seconds had passed when Andrew appeared again, a plate with banana and honey toast in one hand and a hot water bottle in the other. (Andrew had purchased the hot water bottle one weekend when they forgot to bring the one from the dorm—it had little cats scattered across the fabric.) Neil sat up slowly and took the plate. Andrew positioned the bottle against Neil’s abdomen and covered him up with the blanket from the back of the couch. Andrew wouldn’t give him the ibuprofen until Neil finished the toast.
He washed the pills down with a sip of juice from Andrew’s Capri-Sun and flicked on the TV, which happened to be playing an ad for some new brand of tampons. And of course there were women frolicking in a field of fucking wheat and swinging on a wooden swing in the middle of a fucking forest. The fake, airy voiceover promised that these tampons make women feel like themselves during that special time of the month.
The ad cut off. Neil was no longer holding the remote. Andrew had taken it and switched to some cartoon about a kid with an arrow tattooed on his head.
Neil curled in on himself. Fuck periods. Fuck advertising. Fuck period product advertising. Surely, very few people who menstruate frolic during their period.
Neil felt like shit. He was leaking blood. He was tired. His scars itched. He was overly aware of his body—his hips, his cheeks, his chest. He wanted to rip his skin off.
“Stop that.” Andrew flicked Neil’s hand. He’d been scratching at the skin at the base of his neck without realising.
“I feel like shit,” Neil muttered.
Andrew glanced over at him. “Physical or mental?”
Neil scoffed. “Both. But mostly mental—dysphoric.”
“Need a reminder?”
Neil shrugged.
Andrew turned the volume of the TV down and crawled forward, gesturing to the space in front of Neil. “Yes or no?”
At Neil’s nod, Andrew slotted himself beside Neil, blocking his view of the room. They looked at each other for a few moments before Andrew poked Neil in the arm and said, “You’re a boy.”
Neil closed his eyes and nodded.
“You’re a boy. Not a girl. You’re a man. You know you are. I know you are. So do the Foxes. And Wymack, Abby and Bee. And lots of other people.”
Neil tipped his head forward, resting his forehead against Andrew’s, eyes still closed.
“You’re a boy and some boys have periods. It sucks. You’re leaking blood and you’re in pain but it’s okay.” Andrew ran a slow finger along the shell of Neil’s ear. “You’re still a boy.”
Neil sighed, his breath ghosting across Andrew’s lips. “Thank you.”
Some time later Andrew bullied Neil into getting up and brushing his teeth. Neil kicked Andrew out of the bathroom so he could change his pad and then rejoined him in the bedroom, crawling under the covers.
———
Neil knew he bled through his shorts before he even opened his eyes. He wanted to cry. Andrew was snoring softly, hogging the blankets; Neil was only half-covered. He rolled to the side and glanced back—sure enough, there was a small stain on Andrew’s blue sheets.
He was wondering if he’d be able to clean it without waking Andrew when Andrew blinked his eyes open. He only had to take one look at Neil’s face to understand what was going on. He glanced at the stain.
“I’m sor—”
“Neil,” Andrew interrupted. “It’s fine. It’s just a stain.”
Neil tugged the corner of the sheet off the mattress and pulled, pulling Andrew forward a few inches. “I’ll wash it.”
Andrew grunted and sat up to help remove it.
Neil took the bundle and shoved it into the washing machine along with his underwear and shorts. Andrew had bought him several pairs of boxer briefs with a lining for pads so he didn’t have to wear underwear from the women’s section while on his period. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle the dysphoria from that. He then went straight to the bathroom where he took an unnecessarily long shower.
Andrew was sitting at the kitchen table with two mugs of coffee, a bowl of Apple Jacks and a bowl of fruit when Neil finally emerged from the bathroom. Neil sat and took the full mug and bowl of fruit.
“I used to wet the bed,” Andrew said.
Neil blinked, slightly bewildered by the non-sequitur. “Don’t all kids do that at some point?”
Andrew stared into his mug. “I was a bit too old for it to be—normal.”
“Oh.”
Andrew looked at Neil. “You should not be ashamed about something you cannot control.”
“Bee’s wise words?”
Andrew hummed.
“Easier said than done,” Neil said.
Andrew shrugged. “I don’t think less of you because of it. You shouldn’t either.”
Neil nodded. Took a few bites of fruit. Then glanced at Andrew. “Do you still…?”
Andrew poked a floating piece of cereal with his spoon. “No.”
Neil nodded.
“Hiding it from Nicky was easy,” Andrew said. “He just thought I was masturbating a lot.”
That surprised a laugh out of Neil. Andrew looked amused, in his way, and finished off the rest of his cereal.
Neil tapped his fork against Andrew’s bowl to get his attention again. “If that ever happens again, I won’t think less of you for it. I would understand if you hide it, but you don’t have to.”
Andrew met his gaze and nodded tightly before taking their dishes to the sink. “It’d be hard to hide it from the man I’m sharing a bed with,” he said.
Neil smiled. “How about I pretend to not notice?”
“You pretending to ignore my piss on the bed would be worse than the actual act of me pissing the bed.”
“I love it when you talk dirty to me.”
Andrew whacked Neil around the head with a hand towel, muffling his laughter.
They spent the rest of the weekend lounging and snacking and playing darts on the back porch. Neil tried to sleep with a towel underneath him the next night, but in the morning he discovered that Andrew had somehow gotten ahold of it and was using it as a blanket. Thankfully Neil hadn’t bled through. He snapped a picture of Andrew to use as evidence the next time Andrew tried to say he wasn’t a blanket hog.
“Did you just take a picture of me?” Andrew asked without opening his eyes.
“Yep,” Neil said.
“I hate you.”
“I know.”