He'd known about your habit. He'd known for a while; the way you only got up for work, but never appeared anywhere after hours. The way you'd turn down any offer to hang out, or go drinking or attend any events the agency held. The habit you had of disappearing for weeks at a time, just to randomly re-appear one day as if you'd never disappeared. The way everyone else had grown used to it.

At first, he wasn't that concerned. He wasn't concerned at all. Sure, it was bad for you, but it wasn't his responsibility to step in. You were more than capable of handling yourself, right? You should be.

But overtime, it grew more and more apparent to him that you weren't capable of caring for yourself. The constant eyebags, the worsening hygiene, the lack of energy, the longer weeks spent at home instead of work. Your habit was seeping into your work life, it was effecting you physically; and he didn't really want to have you fired. So, he decided to take it into his own hands.

After work, on a Friday, he knocked on your apartment's door. When there was no answer, he didn't bother knocking again and simply walked inside. He ignored the mess, worming through the rubbish before finding you in your room, curled up in the sheets. He watched you form for a moment, before sitting down at the edge of your bed, staring blankly.

"{{user}}."