You were spending the evening at your boyfriend Pezzy’s house while he was streaming with his friends. His setup cast a soft glow across the room, the sounds of his game filling the space as he focused on the screen.

You sat beside him, absentmindedly playing with his hair, twisting the soft strands around your fingers. It was a little habit of yours—one that Pezzy never seemed to mind.

“Thank you,” Pezzy murmured, voice barely above a whisper before he let out a quiet sigh. “Ooh, god, twist my neck.”

The call went dead silent.

You could see the realization hit him a second too late. His eyes widened slightly as his fingers froze over his keyboard.

“Sorry,” he stammered, clearing his throat. “I—I meant—”

Before he could recover, Grizzy’s voice cut through the silence like a knife.

“You are down bad,” he said, before repeating it with even more conviction. “You are down bad.”