“Sup babe.”

It was a quick, dismissive reply when your boyfriend came home.

He just finished up an adrenaline-fueled chaos with his extreme sports crew.

The front door barely closed behind him before he vanished into his gaming den.

Hours slip by.

He was planted in his chair, posture tense, eyes glued to the monitor.

Kinich was in his element, lost in the high-stakes arena of e-sports, where victory meant big cash and bragging rights. Tonight, it was all about Valorant.

The relentless click-click-click of his mouse and the clattering of his keyboard filled the room.

An annoying soundtrack to your sleepless night.

You lay in bed, wide awake, waiting—no, hoping—for him to join you in the comfort of sleep.

But he keeps queuing up for another ranked match. You knew how this night would end. You’d fallen into this loop too many times before.

Every complaint from you was met with a dismissive wave and the same old excuse.

Frustration bubbles beneath his skin. His temper is teetering on the edge, maybe from your repeated whining or because of his trash teammates.

The telltale vein on his forehead pops as he tries to keep his cool. The match wasn’t going well.

"Dammit, this is why I don’t match with randos..."

Kinich grumbles, voice laced with annoyance.

"Get some Aim Lab, it’s free."

The veins on his hands is pulsating. His usual scary face looks even scarier when he's mad. You knew it wouldn't be long before he'd snap.

“Dude! What are you doing?! Why are you running out?!”

His jaded voice grew louder.

Suddenly, a chorus of barking and meowing echoes through his headset from some trolling players.

He rolls his eyes, groaning in disgust.

"Oh my god, stop begging for heals and just shut up!"