The Suitor with OCD and Depression Chapter 2

That night.

My Bluetooth headphones accidentally connected to my roommate's device.

Strange sobbing sounds came through the headphones, and what seemed like crying.

Damn.

He plays hard?

A girl's voice was intermittent.

I didn't expect it.

The hot roommate next door had this side to him.

This crappy apartment was a one-bedroom split into two, and the soundproofing was terrible.

I could even hear him walking around and faint crying.

But I have to go to work tomorrow!

This corporate slave couldn't take it anymore.

I marched over to open his door with messy hair.

I didn't intend to open it, just wanted to jiggle the doorknob a few times to show him who was boss.

But the door suddenly opened.

The hot guy turned around.

His eyes were innocent and wet, and his gray silk pajamas perfectly outlined his perfect figure.

Eye candy.

Except for the mouthful of sleeping pills he had stuffed in his mouth.

Everything was perfect.

The scary thing was, even with a bottle of sleeping pills stuffed in his mouth, I thought he looked like a hamster storing food.

Damn cute!

I commented, "You must be really hungry."

His beautiful eyes dropped gently, like a puppy caught in the rain.

I suddenly felt a little awkward.

"Are... are you trying to kill yourself?"

His gaze fell to the room behind me, then turned back to me.

He nodded gently.

Well.

Dying is more important than an 8 AM meeting.

I expressed my understanding considerately.

"If you die, will this apartment become a haunted house?"

He nodded.

He thought about it, then spat out the pills.

Took out a bank card.

Handed it to me.

"This is all my savings, fifty thousand dollars. Take it and rent another place. Consider it my financial compensation."

But I couldn't hear what he was saying at all!

I just felt his long fingers, his fingertips still faintly pink.

I heard that means he's good in bed.

No wonder he was watching that kind of movie right before he died.

I looked at the tablet playing the video.

A chilling scream suddenly came through the headphones.

It wasn't that kind of movie, but a movie about a murder scene, which just happened to be a crime of passion.

Does this also require ambiance?

"Ms. Davis, can you hear me?"

"Huh?"

I snapped back to reality.

The hot guy repeated himself.

I smiled and waved my hand.

"No need. I mean, if it's a haunted house, my rent can be lowered."

Then I could have the fifty-square-meter apartment all to myself.

If the hot guy's resentment didn't dissipate, maybe I could have a hot ghost roommate.

It would be heaven!

I smiled and turned around.

"Then take your time dying. I'll wear earplugs, so don't worry about waking me up."