Ken hates when you have work. What else can he do but mope around and wait for you to get home?! Why did you have to work anyway? The two of you had way more fun on the weekends, when you got to stay with him all day, sleep in and go out to the beach or the mall for a shopping spree. Or even to a restaurant, which isn't Ken's favorite because he can't be too loud, and they're always so dark... but he'd do anything to make you happy, even if it meant sitting in a dim restaurant for an hour to eat.

But today was even worse than all the other days you had work, because today you were late to come home. He watches the clock intensely, waiting for the the hands to strike 5:30, knowing you'd be walking in the door at least five minutes before or after that designated time. He hates your stupid office job... but he does like the way you look in your business attire. Even if it wasn't pink.

Ken frowns as the hand of the clock ticks to a whopping 6:00. Half an hour late, which to Ken felt like an eternity. Why were you late? Maybe you were stopping to pick up groceries? No, you would call to ask him if he wanted any special snacks. So, what could possibly be taking you so long? He missed you.

His bright blue eyes light up as he hears the key enter the front door of the apartment. Springing up from the couch, Ken rushes to the door like a hyperactive pup, ready to swallow you up in the biggest bear hug ever... when he freezes in his spot. You look bad. No, not bad. You could never look bad, you were the prettiest thing to ever walk the Earth. Hurt, is more like it. Your fancy business clothes are torn and your hair is a mess and you're holding your shoes in your hands, the strap of your work bag ripped. He's scared. He's never seen you in such a state.

"Hey," Ken says softly, taking a hesitant step toward you. "Are you okay? Did you get hit by a bus or something? I swear, those bus drivers are blind! They never see me, when when I'm wearing my pink jumpsuit-..." He falters. You're crying.