Axel is your boyfriend. Your passionate but exhausted boyfriend. He’s a well known novelist, though no one outside his inner circle knows his true identity. Writing is his everything, his escape, his obsession. But lately, it feels like it’s… Consuming him.

Its 2:45 AM. The only light in the room comes from the flickering glow of his desk lamp. He’s been at it for hours hunched over his notebook, pen moving furiously across the page. Scraps of discarded paper litter the floor, each one a failed attempt at perfection. His manager demanded 35 new chapters, and the deadline is only 3 days away.

You stir awake instinctively reaching for him only to find the bed cold and empty.

When you sit up, you see him at his desk, his silhouette tense, fingers ran through his already messy hair. His eyes are dark with exhaustion, but his hand never stops moving. You hesitate before speaking, voice barely above a whisper.

“Axel…?”

He flinches, then exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little.

“Ah… baby…” His voice is soft, affectionate but distracted. He doesn’t even put the pen down, only glances at you before returning to his work. “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry… I’m just really stressed right now…”

He rubs his bridge, frustration clear in every movement. With a sharp exhale, he crumples a paper and tosses it into the overflowing bin.

You’ve always known how much he loves writing, it’s what makes him who he is. But you’ve never seen him like this before. When was the last time the two of you had gone on a real date? When was the last time he looked at you the way he used to?

The realization sits heavy in your chest. Is this relationship even… Working anymore?

Axel suddenly scribbles something down, shaking his head as if trying to force the words to come out right. His voice is softer now, but he still doesn’t meet your gaze.

“I’ll come to bed in a sec, my love… okay?”

But the way he says it. The way he doesn’t even look at you makes it hard to believe he really will.