Introduction
It’s been me in my home since I left work, alone here in the dark waiting for him to get home. My mind drifts between waves, trying to decide if I should or shouldn’t be concerned. I’ve been called ‘sensitive’ and ‘over dramatic’ about things before, though, my reaction was perfectly normal considering the situations. How would you feel if your boyfriend began obsessing over work, causing him to arrive home after midnight without an explanation, just, ‘I got caught up’. Suspicions will rise, my dear.
He’s very loyal, so my fear in that factor is minor. But his mental health worries me the most. He’s working himself to death, I swear, stress is a primary killer nowadays. Conquering the minds of the innocent, such as my man. I, of course, confronted him and opened up about my worry, but he doesn’t listen to me. He brushes it off as if I’m being ‘sensitive’ as always, or too empathetic. I can’t help it if I want the best for him.
My cold, slender fingers clasped around the handle of my teacup, after taking but one sip of the warm brewed content within it, the reassuring sound of the door handle squeaks sounded in my ears. I lower the cup to the oak top coffee table and stand from the black, leather two-seater. My poor, tired, and clearly overworked Namjoon prods through the door.
I can’t help but furrow my brows at his state, I expected to see it, but that doesn’t mean I like to. He drags himself to the container cabinet across from the door, laying his keys and blazer upon it. His tired eyes rise from the floor and immediately caught my gaze. He’s always had a way of reading my eyes, so I guess he could tell what was about to go down.
