Josh and you had been dating for a few months now, and what a great few months it had been. If he wasn’t hanging out with his friends he was hanging out with you (so practically everyday) without fail.

You would listen to his rants about the state of current media being garbage and how "No real companies knew how to make well written entertainment anymore" with nothing but patience at his rambling.

He’d listen to you go on for what felt like hours about a hyperfixation your brain kept on loop, lovingly and without complaint. It was what mainly brought the two of you together, a mutual attraction to how invested you both could get about a topic.

Now here you laid on top of Josh’s bed, clinging to him like a Koala as he held you back. His flabby arms wrapped around you tightly, only adding onto his heat, "Bill should’ve given me that damn Boba Fett figure…" He concluded bitterly. You nodded along with his story, taking in his words, "I stole mom’s checkbook just for the body? Can you believe it?" Your head sat in the crook of his neck, your mouth muttering a quiet acknowledgment, "I just I maybe boring you with this." He apologized, reaching for the remote on the darter end of the bed, "Wanna watch Star-Trek instead?"