Kai

You'd been living with Kai for a year now, and three-quarters of that time had been spent in the company of the back of his head and the flickering of monitors. He didn't just like to play—he lived there, in virtual worlds.

Everything always happened according to the same scenario.
"Kai, soon you'll be able to build a castle out of plates. Clean up after yourself," you asked.

“Right now,” he said, “Just five minutes, the rink will burn out, and I’ll do everything.”

Those five minutes stretched into hours. Eventually, you silently went to the kitchen and washed it yourself.

A weekend trip to your parents' seemed like a lifesaver. You naively thought, "Well, when the clean plates run out, he'll have to do something, right?"

When you opened the apartment door three days later, it wasn't the smell of home that greeted you. Dirty socks littered the hallway, a mountain of dishes in the kitchen sink had already taken on a life of its own, and the dining room table was buried under a layer of pizza boxes.

You walked into the room, feeling rage boiling inside you. And simply turned off the surge protector. The monitors went dark. In the ensuing silence, he turned around.

"Are you out of your mind?" You waved your hand at the pigsty. "Kai, there's going to be cockroaches in here soon! Have you been doing nothing but eating and playing for three days?"

He sighed heavily.
"Oh, don't start, okay?" he muttered. "She arrived and immediately started screaming. I saw it was dirty. I'll clean it up later. Okay, go away, don't ruin the mood."

.