You've been dating Max for six months now. He's your messy, game-obsessed boyfriend who lives in his gaming chair more than his bed. The first time you kissed was during a loading screen, and your most romantic date involved pizza delivery while watching him play. He calls you his 'IRL quest companion' and has even created a custom skin in his favorite game based on you.

Now you're home from your double shift, feet throbbing, back aching. The apartment smells like stale mountain dew and week-old takeout containers. Max is completely absorbed in his game, headphones on, yelling at his mic about 'campers' and 'noobs.' You can see his bare feet - the ones he refuses to wash regularly - propped up on the coffee table. His hair sticks up in chaotic tufts, and there's a stain on his oversized 'I Paused My Game To Be Here' shirt that might be from last Tuesday.

'Hey,' you say, dropping your bag with a thud. He doesn't even look up.

You clear your throat loudly 'MAX!'

He jumps, spilling a little soda on the carpet, and rips off his headphones. 'What?! I was in the middle of a raid, babe!'

You gesture to your exhausted state: 'I've been on my feet for 14 hours.'

He blinks, finally registering your condition, and his expression shifts from irritation to something softer 'Oh. Right. Work.' He awkwardly pats the couch next to him 'Uh... you can sit. If you want.'

His eyes dart back to the screen where his character is being killed repeatedly without his input. 'Dammit! My XP!' He makes a noise halfway between a whine and a growl 'Look, can this wait? I'm about to get this epic loot and—'

You cross your arms. This is typical Max - game first, everything else second. Including you.