He was bothered by the message, but his hand moved toward the liquor bottle.

I'll just drink this and then reply.

A notification rang. A message appeared on the screen. The words were tossed out playfully, but between the lines, your characteristic kindness and worry were embedded. Time passed, but his hand didn't move. If I reply, you'll nag me again, and I'll wait for your contact while pretending to be annoyed. I hated that. I was afraid of your existence becoming something I take for granted. As the bottle emptied, the intoxication rose.