A/N: hell yes chap 3, don't bother checking to see if i updated end because you know i didn't. god, i've been working like crazy recently and I'm really not looking forwards to my 9-hour shift tomorrow...enjoy!

Ahn Yoomi

It wasn’t easy before and it certainly wasn’t easy now, but it was definitely better. The rare moments when we’d have an hour to ourselves were bliss and felt like a treat. I really understood now the meaning of absence making the heart grow fonder.

The dust was back. And this time, I was too busy to clean it. I stumbled into our empty apartment, fatigue dragging my limbs as I locked the door behind me and kicked my heels off. Dropping my bag, heavy with my laptop and tablet, I reached up and pulled my hair out of its ponytail. My eyes tiredly scanned the messy room.

I had worked a lot of the last two years, but I’d never been as tired as I was nowadays. It was a happy tired, but the double shifts that I was pulling at the office and at the restaurant were draining. But we needed the money, rent would be due soon and my paycheck from the office was barely enough to cover it. Knowing that the fridge would be empty of anything but water, I walked straight past the kitchen and into the bedroom. My stomach growled viciously, but I was just as tired.

ing my dress shirt, I peeled it off along with my pants and tossed them in our growing pile of laundry. I had to do that soon or I wouldn’t have anything to wear, but when would I find the time to do that?

I stumble over to the bed, pulling the covers back and slipping inside. The bed felt large without Namjoon beside me, but I was used to it now. I leaned back on my pillow, gazing up at our plaster ceiling and let my eyes travel over the dusty yellow water stains that trailed across the material. It would almost be considered a marble effect if it wasn’t so damn gross, but it was routine for me before I fell asleep. The early morning sun illuminated the dust particles in the air and for a scary moment, panic seized my limb at the sheer sight. They glittered, translucent in the light, like shards of glass. For a moment, I could feel them scratching the insides of my nostrils as I breathed, feeling them burn in my lungs as if they were some sort of inhalant.

But the feeling went away and the dust was just dust again. I pressed a hand over my pounding heart, this wasn’t the first time that this had happened to me and I contemplated calling in sick at the office. But then my eyes were drawn to the yellow marks on the ceiling of our crappy apartment and I realized why I couldn’t do that. Shutting my eyes and praying that the panic wouldn’t keep me from getting precious sleep, I inhaled and immediately was lost.

“Baby,” I heard my name being called and immediately recognized the sound of Namjoon bounding around in our bedroom. Opening one tired eye, I was greeted with the sight of my twenty-one-year-old boyfriend jerkily shaking his as he danced around the room, tripping over the mess.

“Namjoon-ah?” I called, confused as to if I was dreaming. Namjoon turned to me shamelessly and hurried over to the side of our bed. He knelt down so that we were eye-to-eye and brushed hair out of my face.

“Baby girl, I did it,” he breathed, a smile of incredible happiness had exploded on his face exposing his deep dimple. I blinked, opening my other eye in confusion. He absolutely glowed with delight and I could see the pride in his eyes.

“Did what?” I ask, trying to clear my throat.

“My song, our song,” he said hurriedly, “the one I produced with the boys. A big entertainment company heard it online and requested that we sign with them as producers and performers.”

All of my previous grogginess was gone, shooting upright I throw my arms around Namjoon, a massive smile curling my lips upwards.

“Baby, that is so amazing,” I mumbled into his ears. “I’m so ing proud of you, I knew you could do it.” I ran my fingers through his soft hair and pulled away. My eyes widened, spotting tears tumble down his cheeks and reached to wipe them away. “What’s wrong?” I ask worriedly. Namjoon was a big crier, but it still scared me when I saw his tears.

“Nothing,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he grabbed my hand and pressed my palm to his cheek. “I’m just so happy right now. They’ve already bought several of our songs, the money is all there in my bank right now, Yoomi-ah.”

“I don’t care about the money,” I pressed quick kisses to his face, “I’m so glad that they’ve finally realized just how amazing you are.” Namjoon smiled at me and I felt as if I’d just been gifted something priceless. He pushed himself off the floor, still keeping his hold on me as he gently pressed my back onto the mattress. He followed, holding himself up, but made sure that I could feel him against me.

“I love you, I do this all for you,” he said against the skin of my neck and then swallowed my smile with his kisses.

It only got harder. His success stole him from me. We went from seeing each other every day to barely seeing each other every week. We played phone tag constantly, it grew to a point that I had to check his Twitter page to make sure he was still alive. It was hard, but he seemed incredibly happy now that he was working for a company.

I sighed, setting my phone face down on my work desk. Another unanswered call. I glanced around my messy work space. Two glass tables that had been pushed together haphazardly to form an “L” shape, my rolling chair was positioned in the corner. One table held all of my electronics, my laptop, and tablet, my scanner and printer, all of it was a glossy silver, all of it matched. The other half was completely covered in papers. Ideas tore out of my sketchbooks, printed images of inspiration, even a couple of napkins with quickly scribbled designs.

And I absolutely loved my workspace, it was more than I ever imagined. I was so incredibly lucky, I knew I was, to be able to work a job that I enjoyed so much but and I knew that all this hard work, all the overtime that I was working, would pay off eventually. But not seeing Namjoon, coming home to an empty apartment day after day, was brutal.

“Yoomi-ah,” the designer that I worked for stepped into our shared office. Her name was Merlyn and she was one of the most talented artists I had ever met. She never seemed to run out of ideas and she was always so helpful when giving me projects to work on. “Are you ready for the proposal meeting today?” She asked.

I nodded, standing up and grabbing my laptop as well as the summary printouts I had paid 15 cents each for. This was a big proposal for us, we’d pulled several all-nighters getting everything ready. Our idea was an outlet store for AA Textiles, something a bit more affordable, but still as fashionable as department and if our idea was approved of we would be steam heading an entirely new branch of the company. Which is why it was so important for Merlyn, she’d finally be an executive designer. We’d designed the entire first line, as well as sketches for the holiday season that was coming up.

“Yes, everything is ready,” I smiled.

“Good,” she smiled as if she had something to tell me, “because you are going to be presenting today.”

My eyes widened. “What do you mean, we worked on this together and you are the project leader.”

Merlyn smiled at me with eager eyes. “Yes, but this entire thing was your idea. If t