Hey, holllyhocks! Dis is that imagine you requested a while back (I apologize for the extreme delay, lol)! ^U^ Enjoy!
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Will was muttering to himself again.
You glanced up from your book, watching in mild curiosity as your boyfriend briefly paused in the light from the window. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his lips moving with his eyes across the wrinkled page of the script he was reading. Then he let out a sharp growl of irritation, script crackling beneath the pressure of his fingertips. He shifted, dragging a hand down his face, then stood there in silence, shoulders rising and falling as he stared at nothing. It looked like he was considering punching a wall.
Concerned now, you softly cleared your throat. He didn't move.
You bit your lip, gazing at him. "Um, Will?" you asked hesitantly.
He blinked back to the apartment, then looked over at you, the lingering frustration behind his eyes fading slightly as they met yours. But another emotion, one too brief to place, caused them to waver.
"Will?" You lowered the book to your lap. "Are you okay?"
He sighed, looking down at the script, before turning his head away from you to gaze out the window.
At his lack of response, your concern shifted to worry. This wasn't like him. You pushed the book away and walked over to where he stood, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, Will," you leaned out, trying to catch his line of sight. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Will mumbled, then shook his head, shrugging it off as unimportant. "It's nothing."
You looked down at the script he was currently, and most likely absent-mindedly, crushing in his large hand.
"Maybe you should take a break?" you suggested after a moment.
He glanced at you then back down at the script in his hand, silent. Then he nodded, walking over to the kitchen, tossing the stack of paper on the counter and opening the fridge.
"You want anything?" he asked, half-heartedly shuffling aside a large container of vanilla yogurt and a couple of stacked take out boxes.
You shook your head, still concerned about the way he was acting. "I'm good."
Will stood unmoving, the light from the fridge illuminating his figure, his tense shoulders and chest rising and falling. You looked at the script sitting on the counter, then back at your boyfriend. What was it that had him so riled? Was it the script itself? Something about his part that he wasn't happy about? Will had seemed enthusiastic when it had arrived, but now he acted like he didn't want anything to do with it.
"Will?" you probed cautiously. "What's wrong?"
He blinked, momentarily surfacing from his thoughts enough to close the fridge empty handed and turn back to face you. But he didn't meet your gaze, which was strange and frankly a bit unsettling.
"Will?" you questioned again, looking intently at him, mentally asking him to look up. To tell you what the matter was.
He shifted slightly, staring at the floor but not seeming to see it, eyes flicking back in forth in thought. Then he shook his head as if to clear it before snatching up the script again, flipping through it as he passed you, moving back over to the window.
