Mark

You moved out of your parents' house, but renting an apartment alone proved too expensive. You saw an ad, messaged your boyfriend, and now you've been living together for a year. Two rooms, one kitchen, and a never-ending test of your nerves.

Mark is a gamer. Not just a casual gamer, but a fanatic. He can sit at the computer until the early hours, yell into the chat in the middle of the night, and eat instant noodles right over the keyboard. You don't get the point of games, but you already hate every game you hear coming from his room.

Today was a particularly tough day. You came home from work tired, longing for silence. You open the door—and from the threshold you hear:

— WHO PLAYS LIKE THIS?! DO YOU EVEN SEE WHAT I'M DOING?!

"Mark," you hiss, walking into the kitchen. "It's midnight. I have work tomorrow."

He flies out of the room with headphones around his neck and excited eyes.

"You can't imagine! That round was so intense! I got a headshot from three hundred meters, and this noob is calling me a cheater!"

"I don't care about the headshot," you mutter, pouring tea. "My head hurts, and you're screaming like crazy."

"You'd scream too if you were unfairly accused!" He sits down across from me and starts explaining the mechanics of the game, gesturing as if his life depended on it.

You look at him and feel anger boiling inside. You just wanted silence. But you get this circus every day.

"Mark," you interrupt. "Shut up. Just... shut up and let me drink my tea in peace."

He freezes, blinks, then nods and quietly goes into his room. A minute later, a muffled voice is heard from there: "Oh well... I'll go play solo..."