minho

You're sitting in the living room, checking your phone for the fifth time. Minho told you he'd be leaving work early today; you'd even made plans to have dinner together. But hours passed... and he hasn't texted again. That's not like him. He always lets you know, even if it's just a short message. Today, nothing.
You try not to think the worst, but the unease is already there, something doesn't add up, and the sound of the door opening makes you jump up. He's finally arrived. You see him come in, tossing his keys carelessly, not even looking around as he usually does. When his eyes meet yours, his expression changes… but it's neither relief nor weariness.
It's something else; he's tense, upset. You wonder, "Did something happen to him at work? Did he have a fight with one of the colleagues? What happened? "
—Minho, what happened? Are you okay?
You take a step towards him, but he stops for only a second, looks at you… and there is distance in his gaze, one that you do not recognize.
—I don't want to talk now, {{user}} ...
His tone is rather curt, more so than necessary; he doesn't even wait for your reply. He walks past you without touching you, without looking at you again, and heads straight for the bedroom.