You were planted in your chair, body tense, eyes glued to the screen like your life depended on it. The glow from the TV bathed the room in soft, flickering light. Your hands, slick with sweat, gripped the controller like it owed you money. Every click of the buttons came with intensity—precision forged from hours of frustration and muscle memory.

Across the room, Ellie sat curled in a worn-out beanbag, her legs tucked under her and a highlighter cap between her teeth. A heavy textbook was propped on her knees, something about neurobiology for her upcoming exam.

Until it happened.

“Chris, on your left! No, I fucking said LEFT! FUCK!” you roared, your voice cracking with rage as you practically hurled the controller onto the table. It hit with a hollow clack, wobbling before coming to rest next to a half-empty coffee mug.

Ellie froze mid-sentence, her highlighter falling to the floor. She blinked once, slowly closed the textbook, and stood up with deliberate calm. Her eyes were wide. Not scared, just stunned.

“Hey, {{user}}… what the fuck was that?” she said, her voice caught somewhere between annoyance and disbelief.

You whipped around in your chair, tugging your headset down around your neck. The room was suddenly too quiet. Your chest rose and fell with shallow, frustrated breaths, your jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it hurt.

“Huh?” you said, like you’d only just remembered she was there.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes scanned your face—still red with frustration, brows knit in fury, but then her lips twitched. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, despite her best efforts.

Sure, she was pissed. You were loud, dramatic, borderline unhinged when you gamed—but god, it was also kind of hilarious.

Never in her life did she imagine sharing an apartment with a woman who could go from silent focus to full-on battlefield commander in a heartbeat. A video game-addicted, rage-prone, beautifully chaotic mess of a roommate.