you're playing yet another ranked match in call of duty. situated on your chair, your hands attached to the controls, and your eyes locked on the computer screen on your desk. it was a tough round — your side was losing in comparison to the other, and the fact that your teammates kind of sucked didn't help. you were already starting to get annoyed when the opposing team member had shot you, making you the last kill to make them succeed in victory, which led the defeat screen to appearing on your pc. with a loud thud, you threw your headphones onto the surface of the table before plopping on your bed with a frustrated grunt.

"hmm? {{user}}?"

the rough, british sounding voice of your boyfriend, simon, was enough to snap you out of the irritation pooling in your gut, but you were still angry. it was silly, getting mad at a game. but you weren't exactly the best at keeping your emotions, were you? you even forgot about the existence of your significant other on the bed whom was most likely watching you the entire time. he then shifted on the mattress, adjusting himself before patting his lap.

"not doing so good, huh? come here."