Starts with a Match

Fall into it Naturally

I don't remember what our apartment smelt like before Toby's cycle started; they've kept incense burning throughout the kitchen, their room, a candle in their bathroom, even a thing I think all week. Different smells, from lemon to sage to lavender. I don't mind, it's like coming into a candy store or a flower shop when I walk in the front door.

Though we learned pretty damn quick I'm probably allergic to the cinnamon one, cause my eyes got so itchy they swelled closed.

A couple times during the week, they totally took over cleaning. Trash was never even half full, bathrooms were spotless, whole place smelt like Lysol—I hardly knew what to do with myself, since that was usually my job.

I started doing a bit more cooking for us. I can proudly say now that I'm excellent at making breakfast for dinner. Toby says don't get used to not cleaning, they hate doing it. Not sure why they do it then, but maybe it's a cycle thing. I'm not gonna question it.

There was one day that was absolute crap. I came home later than intended cause work was bullshit as we prepped for going to Russia, and I hadn't let Toby know, and they had gone the trouble of making us dinner.

By the time I got in, food was all cold, and Toby was curled up on the sofa in tears watching a movie, lingering smell of cigarette floating around the house.

They didn't acknowledge my apology or talk to me the rest of the night, and they left for a midnight shift without a word.

Next morning, I got up early enough to do the dishes, and I made them coffee and left it in the carafe for when they got back from work. I got a text around 09:00 while on post.

-miss you. Come home soon.

That was nice. And I liked the grin they gave me when I brought them home a slice of banana bread from Starbucks.

This week was a bit of a rollercoaster overall but I wouldn't change anything. PX terror. Angry Toby cause of big jerks—not anger at me that time, thank goodness. Work stress, crying Toby cause I did a thoughtless thing. Gas station weirdness. Horny Toby? Cause I did...what? Good Lord. No idea.

It's been awhile since I was around someone hormonal and got to help them. Last time I think was helping Claire when she was pregnant with Alex.

Hannah and Margie would usually keep to themselves during their periods. Though when us dudes offered extra food or our larger clothes for comfort, they'd accept them.

All that matters is I'm getting the hang of it. I'll miss next month, but in October, I'll do even better. Toby will be cycling on their birthday. I'm determined to make it the best birthday ever anyway. Need meds? No problem. Back rubs? Someone to ignore or give hugs when needed? I totally got it covered.

—

There's a group event tonight, for those of us going to the field soon, but I'm not about to go if Toby doesn't want to go. This morning they were up when I was, eating leftover spaghetti at, like, 05:30. So we'll see.

I'm a little antsy, actually, expecting to get a call from Hockins that we're getting sent to the fucking moon and not to Russia, pack your bags, you're out tomorrow, just like last time.

So far, nothing from her, or Seya, and that could either be good or really bad.

When I get in around 16:00, Toby's on the floor, painting their nails with their headphones on. They've got a couple books sprawled around them in a semi-circle, along with bits of laundry.

They don't notice me when I first walk in and close the door, not until I drop my keys to the mud bench.

Toby looks up and takes off the headphones, and my smile falters at tear streaks on their cheeks. "Hiya, Koop," they sniffle, dipping the brush back into the polish. Black, shiny. It's cute on their nails. "How was your day?"