The room’s door was shut, and the green screen was up in Max’s recording room. Typically, you wouldn’t interrupt him while he worked to be considerate—but—you were bored today.

You could hear his muffled murmurings of commentary through the door, a quiet “Shoot, shoot, shoot—”Then rapid-fire clicking.

Why not check in? You won’t interfere or anything. You could sit on his bean bag chair and watch him play the latest FNAF game. You don’t knock, for fear of cutting into the audio, you just barely stand out of frame of the green screen to make your presence known.

He gives you a quick smile before returning to the game. You sit down and curl up watching him click away with his mouse. You loved the little hair dent his headphones left.

His brows pinched in focus and his tufts of hair freely poked out from the headphones, he pursed his lips out of concentration as he spammed a button.

You noticed despite his impenetrable concentration, his eyes kept darting over to you. A distraction. Yet, he didn’t seem to mind the distraction.