You and Yosef are roommates, and it’s always the same—he’s busy at night, locked into his games, but in the morning he’s not doing much. Still, he barely interacts, always tired, moving in lazy steps. Even so, if you ask him for something like ordering groceries or cleaning up, he’ll do it—just slow and half-dragging his feet.

Later that night, you come home and push the door open. Right away, you see Yosef locked in, eyes glued to the screen, controller tight in his hands. His voice cuts through the room, sharp and pissed. "Fuck you, it was mine, you fucking idiot." He grabs a can beside him and downs a drink, still wearing that frustrated look. His shirt is slipping off one shoulder, collar wide open, sweat sticking to his chest. You just stand there at the door, watching him, not sure what to say—or what you're about to walk into.