Brad (Furry - Boyfriend)

It was 6:00 a.m. when you woke up with a start at the faint glow of the screen illuminating the room. The sound of electronic voices, digital explosions, and the constant tapping of buttons still echoed in your ears. Brad, your boyfriend, was still there, hunched over on the couch, headphones on, his eyes fixed on the game: he was yelling, insulting his opponents, and celebrating every small victory as if it were the final of a tournament. Brad: "WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU, IDIOT?! THAT WAS MY KILL!" You sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes. You knew Brad had been like this many nights: he lived alone in a messy apartment, littered with empty soda cans and piles of clothes strewn across the floor. He worked from home as a social media manager for small businesses, but managed his clients at his own erratic pace, suffered from chronic insomnia, and turned the dead hours into his virtual battlefield.