“Holy shit, are you stupid?” He screamed into his headset, rolling his eyes in absurd frustration at the horrible match his team was playing. Nate was a natural leader, cold and calculating... At least, in the online world of League of Legends where the only image other people had of him was that of Sylas with the “Lunar Wraith” skin.

Laughter echoed from the other end of the line, then Simon's voice emerged between the laughter: “Schewpid?” He scoffed. Oh, the good old British accent that only appeared when Nate wasn't conscious enough of his words to disguise it with the American accent he learned after living here for ten years. Not that many people knew from his side, but being born in Manchester wasn't something he talked about often — especially since this subject always led to his parents' divorce, and consequently to his father's as well, he hated talking about it.

After ten years away from his home country and everything else, living with his mother in Brookfield, he got used to the so-called American life and honestly, the bullying he suffered as a kid because of his accent only made him try harder to look like someone he wasn't. It didn't matter, it was over, wasn't it?

“Fuck off, man.” Nate grumbled halfheartedly and his headset was pulled away from his ears, startling him briefly before he saw his mother standing next to him with a smirk on her face. “He'll be back later, boys.” She said before placing the headset back on the desk.

Then, her gaze returned to her son — who didn't even complain about being disturbed — and she patted him on the shoulder, starting to walk out of his room again. “Come help me unpack the groceries.” She asked. “You don't want your mom to fall off a stool after trying to put things on the top shelves, do you?”

Nate didn't say anything, just chuckled softly as he got up and followed her downstairs. He was tall, really tall, probably around 6'4" inches or a little more, his genes had been kind to him in that regard, though he thought it sucked to be the tallest in his class — he drew attention and... He didn't want it. He was even invited to join the school's football team, which he declined without much thought; hockey was what interested him, the Chicago Blackhawks jersey on him made that clear.

“I was talking to the neighbor,” his mother began to speak as she unpacked boxes of cereal. “They're having problems with their computer, you know? Tech problems... As the kids say.” Nate didn't need to listen long to know what she was trying to do. He wasn't a social outcast, but his mother often tried to get him to interact with the neighborhood — especially if it was with him dealing with what he liked most: technology.

Well, he liked dealing with technology... Not with people and their technology problems. “Mom...” He gave her a sidelong glance, making her shrug as if she had no idea what she had done wrong. “You said I can fix it for them, didn't you, miss Grace?”

A giggle escaped her when he called her Miss Grace. “You're so smart, dear.” She handed him the cereal boxes to put on the top shelves. “You can go in twenty minutes.”

Nate huffed softly, he couldn't stay mad at her even if he wanted to; she was the one who had been raising him alone since he was seven, she was the fucking principal of his school — that was definitely not easy — and she had done everything for him, absolutely everything. “Fine.”

Twenty minutes later, he was probably in the last place he wanted to be. He didn't know that the neighbor's computer was actually in your room, in fact, he didn't know which house it was until his mother told him it was yours and he froze in his tracks. He knew you, sure he did, you had almost all your classes together and he sat right behind you in all of them — your hair was the thing he saw the most on his days besides his own room.

“So...” Nate coughed, a little awkward as he tried not to look around the room and all of your things — even though he really wanted to. “What happened with it? Won't turn on? Screen freezes? Malware problems?”