ꕥ; Yoongi ³

The apartment was empty, more than usual, and the silence hurt. Min Yoongi hadn't appeared for days; maybe weeks.
It wasn't anything out of the ordinary—his job, his world—and mine, which barely touched his. A marriage that existed only on paper, with measured words and avoided glances.
But when I noticed my only companion, Koko, wasn't there, the air left my body. I searched under the sofa, between the curtains, in every corner where she could hide. Nothing.
I felt that familiar knot in my chest, that irrational fear of losing the little bit that still accompanied me.
And before thinking too much about it, I dialed his number. Not because I wanted to. But because, somehow, I knew he'd answer.

"What's wrong?" His voice sounded serious, but not cold. He was probably surprised because I never called him.

"Koko...she's gone." I hated how fragile my voice sounded.
"Where are you right now?"

"In the front steps, with food and a toy."
There was silence. Then, simply:
"I'll be there."

I didn't even have time to refuse. Ten minutes later, the sound of his footsteps made the night less silent. I hadn't expected him to arrive so quickly, or to look so worried.
He was wearing his tie, his hair was a bit messy, and his eyes… his eyes searched me before he said anything.
"When was the last time you saw her?