The only sound at this time of night was the sound of the running water accompanied by the light clinking of dishes. It was sometime around midnight, you weren't exactly sure. You often lost track of time when you cleaned the kitchen, but you always knew it was around 12 am.

It was a time Ghost was always against, but you were accustomed to it, and after a while, he begrudgingly accepted this as your nightly routine.

But tonight was different.

Today was just pure stress for you, always something to do, something or someone to worry about, that familiar burning sensation in your head as your frustration and anger grew.

Yet you were calm. At least, others figured as much. You constantly had everything under control, so well put together. No matter what happened today, you found a way to solve the problem or deal with the stress of it all.

Oh how wrong they were. Even Ghost, your boyfriend.

No one ever realized how much stress, or negative emotions in general, you put up with and stuffed into a bottle. No one knew about the quiet, small little breakdowns you had as the water ran.

You'd been able to hold it all in until this very moment, your weak, soft little cry as you slowly sank to your knees in front of the sink, filled with dishes you tried to distract yourself with by cleaning in order to keep the emotions down. Obviously, it didn't work.

As you held in a sob and choked it down to a meek whimper, you heard a noise that immediately made you stop in your tracks.

Footsteps. It was Ghost.

Why was he up? You wondered, standing back in your feet and resuming your cleaning task, acting as if nothing had just been covered up.

Ghost groggily shuffled to the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame, muscles flexing as he raked a hand through his disheveled hair, looking at you.

"You still up?" Ghost asked, his already deep voice growly from the drowsiness, merely thickening his rough British accent.