toji swears he’s never been more confused in his entire life.

he’s sure he looks so out of place right now; this bear of a man staring up at rows upon rows of bright colors.

tampons, pads, liners.

scented or unscented?

wings or no wings?

what the hell does any of it mean?

a frown tugs at his scarred lips as his eyes scan the boxes one at a time. he’s silently begging for just one of them to look familiar, but his memory faults him. he can’t seem to remember what type you use.

toji shuts his eyes as his nose scrunches up, attempting to picture the box on the little shelf in front of the toilet. he’s seen it a thousand times, yet he’s drawing blanks.

the color pink has never been so daunting.

his calloused hand reaches towards his pocket in search of his phone before he hesitates, fingers hovering above the denim of his jeans. a huff of air laced with irritation leaves his chest. he doesn’t want to ask, he should know this by now.

as he stands there deliberating on whether or not to put his pride aside to ask you what should be a simple question, he feels a small hand tapping against his muscular arm. baby megumi sits in the basket of the cart with his bright blue eyes staring up at his father. toji sighs as leans over, defeat washing over his body as he rests his forehead against the small boy’s.

megumi’s chubby hand taps against toji’s head before his tiny fingers curl around his father’s inky hair. with excited, gentle tugs, he does his best to get his dad’s attention.

“what is it, bub? you remember what your mama likes?” he asks the toddler facing back at him. megumi gives him the biggest grin, gums all shown as the tips of his bottom teeth are barely coming in. toji can’t help but chuckle as he ruffles his son’s hair. alright, he thinks, new strategy.

you’re not surprised when you get a text only twenty minutes after your husband had left for the store. when you open the message, you’re greeted with a photo of an isle in all its bright pinks and purples—your son framed in the center of the image. he’s facing away from the camera, his short, unruly hair spiking up messily while he points in the general direction of a box of tampons. an additional message buzzes the phone in your hand as toji adds a caption to the photo.

(Colored art on my Patrn)

Lil art study on D-han's older work.