Luke: You open a drawer and sigh, seeing a box with only one tampon left. Grabbing your phone, you call Luke. “Hello?” He says into the phone. “Hey Luke,” you begin sweetly, “Are you on your way home?” “We just finished band practice, so I’ll be leaving in a minute,” he tells you, “Why?” “I was wondering if you could swing by the store,” you explain. “Anything for you,” Luke laughs, “What do you need?” “Just some tampons,” you say, biting your lip and nervously awaiting his reaction. “You - you want me to buy you tampons?” He asks, unsure if he heard correctly. “Well, yes please,” you say simply. “I’ve never bought tampons before!” He points out in an immediate panic. “It’s easy!” You say, trying not to laugh. “How am I supposed to know what kind to get?” He sighs. “I’ll send you a picture of the box,” you offer. “The cashier is gonna look at me weird,” He fights. “Please, Luke?” You beg, knowing he’ll give in. “Fine,” he grumbles, “This is gonna be so awkward though.” “I love you,” you laugh. “You better,” he chuckles before hanging up the phone. It’s only a few minutes later that you hear Luke enter the house. “Hey, babe,” you say with a sweet smile. “Here,” Luke says, holding a box out at arm’s length. “You’re the best,” you state, taking the box to put away and kissing his cheek. “I’m never doing that again,” Luke mutters, wiping his hands on his jeans as if tampon boxes carried some disease.
Michael: You sit on the couch watching a random chick flick when Michael comes and sits beside you. He puts his arm around you, pulling you onto his lap. “Hello,” you greet, pecking his lips. You pull away, but he leans closer, connecting your lips again. You kiss back and he quickly deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth. Your hands tangle in his hair and his fingers play at the rim of your shorts when you pull away. “Michael,” you sigh. He ignores you, kissing your collarbone and sucking at the soft skin. “Michael,” you repeat firmly. “Hmm?” He hums against your skin. “Um, I’m on my period,” you mumble. He sighs, clearly disappointed, and pulls away. “Oh,” he says simply. You give him an apologetic smile and he returns it weakly. “Well, then,” he mutters, gently pushing you off of his lap. “Sorry,” you murmur, sliding off of him to the cushion beside him. He clears his throat, adjusting in his seat before putting his arm around your shoulders and turning his attention to the movie. You smile up at him and he pecks your temple gently. You rest your head on his shoulder and he sighs, resting his head on your own. “How much longer are you on your period?” He asks quietly. “Probably a couple of days,” you answer. He groans and you laugh, shaking your head at him.
Calum: You lay in bed, groaning in pain as your cramps get even worse. “How’re you feeling?” Calum asks from the doorway, eyeing you with a worried expression. “Awful,” you pout. He sighs, entering the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. He looks down at you sadly and gently pushes your hair back before pecking your forehead. “Oh! I got you something!” He says eagerly, scurrying from the room and returning seconds later with his hands behind his back. “What is it?” You ask as he walks back toward you. “Guess,” he says with a mischievous smile. “I’m not in the mood for guessing,” you sigh. “Right, sorry,” Calum mumbles, “Are you in the mood for chocolate?” He pulls a box of chocolates from behind his back in his left hand and smiles proudly. Before you answer he adds, “Or maybe you’re in the mood for a romantic comedy,” holding out a stack of DVDs in his right hand. “You’re the best boyfriend ever,” you sigh gratefully. “Yeah, well, I’ve learned a few things about periods from having a sister,” he explains sheepishly. “I swear you’re an angel,” you say in disbelief as you pop a chocolate in your mouth. He grins down at you and you laugh before popping a chocolate into his mouth as well. You spend the day cuddling with Calum and watching all of the movies he brought over for you.
Ashton: You search the fridge hopelessly for something to eat before calling for Ashton. “Ash! We don’t have any food!” You shout into the living room. He comes to the kitchen, looking in dismay at the practically empty fridge. “Wanna order out?” He asks. “Yeah, sure,” you agree. “I’ll order a pizza,” he volunteers, pulling out his phone. “I don’t want pizza,” you whine. “Okay, what do you want?” He asks. You shrug and he sighs. “I’m in the mood for Chinese. How’s that sound?” He offers. “Just get whatever you want,” you say rolling your eyes. “It’s all about you anyway,” you add. You see hurt and confusion register on his face, his eyes widening and his mouth opening to speak although no words come out. You know immediately that you’re being ridiculous and unfair, but at this point you don’t care. “I’ll just starve,” you mumble before storming out of the kitchen. You sit on the couch, crossing your arms stubbornly and ignoring your growling stomach. You find yourself craving Chinese food and sigh, shuffling back to the kitchen. “Ashton,” you mumble, seeing him standing in the same spot you left him. He looks down at his feet, refusing to meet your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you sigh, moving toward him, “I know it’s no excuse but I’m just really moody. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Although Ashton doesn’t reply, he allows you to wrap your arms around his torso and rub his back softly. “I’m sorry, Ash,” you repeat. He sighs, finally meeting your eyes and cracking a smile. “It’s hard to be mad at you,” he states, making you laugh. “Oh, and Ash, I really want Chinese,” you add with a sheepish grin as he shakes his head at you.
