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———-

Periods.

The word that is synonymous to a punctuation mark...or is an actual punctuation mark, whatever.

Moving on.

The word that brings groans into the mouths of women and fear into the hearts of men. The word that old ladies with saggy boobs laugh at any time they hear it because they've conquered such a great force that should never be joked with.

A period. Something that I'm not happy to be experiencing during the holy month of Ramadan.

Why is this Paulina? Please elaborate. Periods are normal. It isn't haram.

Yes. It isn't haram. It's a natural, feminine bodily function that is also equal to a hurricane. Just because it involves losing blood and severe cramps and suddenly finding out that you're more flexible than Mr. Fantastic as you become a professional bed gymnast doesn't mean that it's something to hate badly.

But who lied?

When a Muslimah (classic example: me) is on her period, she has to abandon some of her obligatory Islamic duties. Examples of said duties: fasting, praying five times a day, fasting...

You read me right. I can't fast! I can't just finish 30 days of fasting without any interruption. No! I have to pause for three or five days and then commence later before I complete the rest of my 30 days fast after Ramadan by fasting when everyone is eating.

Not to take it personally but...why me?!

(And a whole lot of other Muslimahs suffering like me but I deserve the right to be a bit selfish right now. Why me? Why now?)

When it's time to tell Kenneth that I'm quitting? I can't even stand and I don't want to call because I want to do this the right way. Now, I have to change my plans and ask Vanessa to get me some pads.

...And also tell Damon to forget about us hanging out today.

I groan as I curl my body into a position Mr. Fantastic will be impressed with seeing.

Why me?

"Stop moping around on your bed," Vanessa rolls her eyes as I press the hot water bottle against my stomach. I curl my body into an irregular position as she continues to speak. "Chest the pain and walk out feeling like a G6."

"Then where should I mope? On the floor?" I lift my face to send a short glare her way before dropping it back to my pillow. "You don't know how it feels. All you do is PMS. You've never taken pain killers to get rid of the pain," I manage to moan out through a mouthful of pillow.

"I don't PMS," she says and I scoff. She ignores it. "But are you sure you're okay? You don't look so hot."

"I don't feel so hot too," I mutter as I look up at her and fake a smile. "But don't worry about me. You have band practice with Gatsby...and Calypso. You should be on your way."

"Are you sure you aren't going to die before I get back?" she shoulders her guitar case with a dubious look on her face, "I can always cancel."

"It's just a period thing that I, unfortunately, have to undergo," I make my smile firmer. "Later."

She stares at me for a few more seconds before nodding. "Fine. Later."

She walks away with one final, worried glance before I can tell her to get me a bucket of Maltesers on her way back home.

Meh. I'll just text her.

There's silence in the house. Georgia is busy watching Orange Is The New Black on Netflix somewhere in her room (she's really enjoying her vacation, isn't she?) and Dad is out, working.

All in all...I'm all alone. Just me and my hot water bottle. And my poster of Dylan O'Brien.

I close my eyes and concentrate on my fatigue, rather than the biting pain taking over my stomach.

Sometimes, I really wish I was born a boy. Paul Suarez. And maybe in that life, Damon would be Danielle and Venus would really be Pluto—

And I'm obviously delirious. Must be the blood loss.

I turn away from the door and close my eyes to sleep. I also try to shut my brain off.

"Hey Diadem," I hear a vaguely familiar voice. I smile. Damon is in my dreams too?

"Diadem. As cute as you are while sleeping, I really suggest you wake up," the voice is closer and I can smell something akin to sugar and flour. I smile a bit more.

I mean, it's not every day that Advil can turn dreams into something 3D. I'll take what I can get.

A finger traces my cheekbone slowly. A soft finger. "I brought Maltesers. In teddy form and in chocolate balls of fun form."

I eyes flutter open. Brown eyes stare back at me with slight amusement. I blink.

"And Sleeping Beauty is finally up. Hallelujah."

I scream and scramble to sit up. Damon jumps away from me as I look around wildly.

"How did you get in?! Georgia didn't tell me you were here!"

"Door wasn't locked," he smiles sheepishly and I make a mental note to kill Vanessa before she succeeds in killing me. "Is this a really bad time?"

"...No," I flop down against my sheets and yawn. "It's not. What's up? I thought I told you I couldn't make it today. I'm not feeling good."

"Period blues," he nods like he can relate. I nod along in agreement.

It's good to find a guy that can relate to periods. It's not every day you can talk to a guy about your period—

...That I never told him about.

Mortification sinks into my very soul and I cover my burning cheeks with my hands. "How did you...?"

I'm not PMSing, right?

Damon chuckles. "You said you weren't feeling good. You didn't go into details. So I called Vanessa and she told me—"

"She told you I was on my period?" I let my fingers connect with my face. Is it that Vanessa hates me? Should I get back at her? Is revenge really best served cold? Should I get her baby pictures and email them to Gatsby? Or—

"She told me you're feeling down because you can't fast right now. And that worried me so I decided to Google it. And then I read something about periods and just put two and two together," he looks quite smug.

"...And you're not running for the hills?" I raise both eyebrows. Even my father still freezes up when Georgia tells him to get tampons. Kenneth practically took hiatuses anytime I asked him to get me pads.

All in all; a man's worst nightmare. Even Christian Grey couldn't conquer the concept of Anastasia Steele's menstruation cycle.

...Or at least...I hope he didn't.

Damon scoffs as he settles a basket of stuff on my bed. "Growing up with an old guy and two women? Trust me. A period doesn't phase me anymore."

Obviously, my father needs tutorials from this boy.

"Oh," I swallow. If he isn't feeling awkward about it, then I shouldn't. "So. Steroid Pillow. What's in the basket?"

"A collection of stuff that is guaranteed to make your day," his grin blinds me for a moment and he uses his time to take off the red cloth that's making the contents of the basket a mystery. "Say hello to your new period pack."

I chuckle warily. "Can we forget I'm...?"

Damon shrugs. "Okay."

Then he removes the red cloth totally. I grin at the contents. A hot water bottle—a pink one. Samosas. A bucket of Maltesers. Maltesers, the teddy. A collection of chick flicks.

And last but not the least, Damon.

I slowly turn my gaze back to him. He gives me a dazzling smile. "So?"

"It's amazing Steroid Pillow," I stretch my hand out for him and he does the same. Our hands connect, intertwine and I lightly squeeze his. "Thank you."

"Anytime," he murmurs. Then he walks around my bed and sits down beside me, kicking his feet up till we're practically side by side. "Just so you know...the chick flicks aren't just for you. I like watching them too."

I laugh at his confession. "Yet another thing we have in common."

His only answer is a smile that sort of makes my heart hum hallelujah.

———

"What's your last name though?" I look away from the movie, Letters To Juliet to look at him. He's been moderately munching on the jumbo pack of samosas whilst watching the movie. He also put his hair in a ponytail with one of my scrunchies...

And I really have mixed feelings about this.

"You don't know my last name?" he looks somewhat confused.

I nod. "I keep forgetting to ask. Sorry."

He pauses the movie and looks away from my laptop. We're still on my bed and the laptop is resting on his thighs but I can see Amanda's face clearly.

"Hmm...I could have sworn I properly introduced myself. Oh well," he shrugs. "Valentine."

I blink. Then I blink some more as he stares at me with serious eyes. "Your last name is Valentine?"

"Were you expecting it to be Salvatore?"

I ignore his little jab. "Damon Valentine," I roll the name across my tongue and nod. "Sounds great."

"I'm glad you think so," he turns his body to face me fully. "Can I tell you something personal?"

My blood sparks at the thought of getting deep with Damon. I nod eagerly, not trusting my tongue to speak.

"My real last name is Kumar. My mother decided to hire a private investigator to track down my biological parents. Ophelia was against it because she hates the thought of not being Aubrey's real daughter," he takes a breath and offers me a samosa. I take it.

"So you found out that you're Indian?" I grin as he chuckles at my straight question. He nods.

"Partly, but yeah. Apparently, my father is an immigrant working as a teacher in a local community college right here in Florida. My mother is American. She's a nurse at some hospital in Minnesota," he shrugs.

"And you're okay with that?" I make my voice light. He nods.

"Of course. Kumar is apparently a very common last name. I like the fact that I'm Damon Valentine. I love my life," he shrugs. "I just hope my 'parents' love their current lives too."

I can't keep my lips from turning into a manic curve. He's so selfless and free. Despite the fact that his parents left him, he's still okay with it and he's even wishing them good lives.

He's too good to be true.

...But maybe I'll have the same thoughts if my current life consists of a mansion and a pretty cool looking old Butler with an accent.

I smile at him before taking a large bite of my samosa. "Should I share something about myself too?"

"If you want to," he winks. I pretend like my stomach doesn't dab at the action.

"Okay," I cross my legs and adjust the now warm water bottle on my stomach. "Then I'll tell you soon. I have to get ready to talk about it."

Damon gives me a wary look. "Diadem, you don't have to tell me something that is still hurting you."

I cock my head to the side. "I know. But still. I want to tell you. Call me crazy but I think I can trust you."

"You think?" Damon raises amused eyebrows. "I thought it was a definite thing."

"Don't be cocky," I raise an eyebrow and he frowns in jealousy. I laugh as he shoves the rest of his samosa into his mouth and turns away from me to chew.

"But can I have one little fact about you? Before you tell me what you want to, of course."

I browse through the autobiography in my head. "My favorite color is—"

"Pink. But you also like black because it's slimming and purple because it's a good color on you."

I frown. "I'm half—"

"Puerto Rican. I've seen your dad. Plus your last name is a dead giveaway."

"Dude, are you stalking me?" I click my tongue lightly. "I'm allergic to—"

"Cats."

I throw my hands up in partial defeat. "I'm obsessed with piercings."

Damon finally turns to face me with a smile. "Finally, telling me something I didn't know."

"You're so annoying," I scoff. Then I snatch the container of samosas from him, intending to finish them all by myself.

He laughs at me and maybe I decide to reward the sound by giving him a few more of his meat-filled goodness.

Maybe.

A/N: I hope this chapter was okay for you all. I wanted them to bond a bit.

How do you like Damon's last name?

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