#poorbilly

"Are these flavoured?" He asked, the confusion evident on his face. "How you would even taste them if they go.." He clears his throat awkwardly.

Sure, he knew what periods were. He wasn't that much of an idiot. But he knew girls tended to keep that stuff away from males, and he didn't ask.

"No William, they aren't flavoured."

"Then why do they have fruits on the box?"

"It's for decoration."

Billy is even more confused now. Why did these things need decoration?

His curiosity got the better of him as he opened the box and pulled out one of the tampons, his eyes widening at the plastic device it seemed to be kept in.

"For easy insertion.. what the fuck." He mutters, shaking his head.

You snatch the box off him and shake your head. "Those aren't good ones."

"What's the difference?"

They all looked the same to him, some sort of torture device that made the suffering even worst.

He'd been with you for a few months, and he'd seen you during this time, which confused him. He saw you cry over baby ducklings once and then momentarily yell at him because he didn't get the correct chocolate ice cream.

"So they aren't flavoured?"

You sigh, grab your usual brand off the shelf, and leave Billy awkwardly behind.