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It's at times like these that Jeff is glad Abed has an ensuite bathroom. Most of the Greendale dorms share one communal facility at the end of the corridor, but Abed's includes a small area with a toilet, sink, and shower.
It's the kind of thing which, normally, would make Jeff think of what other things Abed could get around campus- like disabled parking- but all thoughts of scheming leave his mind. Right now, he can barely focus on sitting upright, curled into the cramped space in front of the toilet, doubled over in pain.
His cycle is usually pretty erratic, which is why he hadn't seen the signs it was coming today, not until it was too late.
There's a knock on the door. "Jeff?"
"... 'S open," Jeff moans, barely able to get the words out. There's a pause, but it clicks open, and Abed steps in.
Jeff is slumped against the toilet, his head practically inside the bowl.
If Abed didn't know better, he'd assume he was just hungover- but he's been with Jeff all night, and neither of them have had a drop to drink- they were much more preoccupied with other things. At one point, a couple of hours ago, Jeff took a painkiller for a headache- so he assumes it's related to that.
"... Hey." Abed kneels down beside him. "Can I touch you?"
Jeff is pale, and he has an arm wrapped across his middle, while the other one keeps him steady. He makes a weak sound, and nods his head.
Gently, Abed embraces him from behind, and rests a chin on his shoulder. Jeff gasps weakly, and turns his face into his.
"Not even bleeding yet," Jeff wheezes. “Just cramping. Should have seen the signs," he admits. "My pecs hurt yesterday.” Top surgery has done little to diminish the aches and chest pains he sometimes gets.
Abed rubs small circles into his back. "This happens a lot?"
Jeff's body spasms around a breath, as he huffs out a laugh. "Once a month. Not as- reliably as it should."
Abed's eyes widen. It's true that he'd been unintentionally tracking the periods of the other members of the study group- Annie, Britta, Shirley, even Troy- but he'd never factored Jeff's mood swings into those calculations. Most of the hints were times when the others seemed more sensitive than usual, and Jeff doesn't do vulnerable.
"Come on. Let's go to the couch."
Jeff shakes his head.
"You can't move?" Abed asks.
“Dunno,” He shivers. "But you might not appreciate it if I throw up in your dorm."
"I'm not squeamish, Jeff. I'll get you a bowl if you need one. I just want you to be comfortable."
Jeff considers this, then gives a sharp nod. Abed helps him to his feet, with effort, and Jeff squeezes his hand so tight that it hurts. Abed guides him through the short space out of the bathroom. What would normally be a short walk is transformed into a difficult trek.
Jeff's breathing is short, stuttered, and it almost sounds as if he's having a panic attack- but when Abed looks at him, his eyes are clear. Calm.
"Thank you," Jeff whispers, at last, as he collapses onto the couch.
“Do you need anything?” Abed asks. “Pillows? Cushions?”
“Ugh.” Jeff shakes his head. “I hate cushions.” Most of the time, cushions are a sensory nightmare, nothing more than an uncomfortable wedge beneath him.
Abed fetches him water in the tallest glass he has, and some Tylenol.
Jeff takes it, and is silent for a long while, as Abed strokes his hair.
“Has it kicked in yet?” Abed asks.
He shakes his head. “It's like… I can feel every one of my nerves at once," Jeff says. "You know?"
Abed nods. He can definitely understand that better than most. He stands up. "I'll be right back," he murmurs, as he crosses to the other side of the room, and retrieves his weighted blanket from the bed, throwing it over Jeffrey.
"Oh." Jeff sighs, and relaxes into it. "Shit."
Abed leans his head on his shoulder. "Better?"
He hums. "A lot." Jeff closes his eyes, and breathes deeply.
Abed sits with him in silence for a moment, rubbing his lower back comfortingly.
“You keep going on about disabled parking,” Abed hints. “Why don't you apply for it yourself?”
For a long time, Jeff doesn't respond.
“I guess I don't want to think of myself as disabled,” he says, finally. “I don't want to think about it at all. It's not like this every month, it only gets really bad every four months or so, even though the cramping and the bloating is pretty bad.”
“Jeff…” Abed trails off.
“I know what you're gonna say, but I can't go on birth control, I just can't. The side effects are…” He shakes his head. He can't get into that right now, not without opening a whole other can of worms about his body issues. Instead, he laughs uneasily. “Testosterone is supposed to stop your periods, but I guess mine never got the memo.”
Abed gives him that concerned expression he often does, and Jeff wonders if he is aware that birth control can cause weight gain. He can almost see him putting two and two together, so he sits up, as much as he can
“Abed?” He says, surprised by how much his voice shakes. “I'm fine.”
Abed still looks worried, so Jeff cracks a smile.
“Now get under this weighted blanket and watch TV with me.”