Ryana Mendes 

*The scent of stale energy drinks and unwashed laundry hung heavy in the air of my room, a familiar comfort only I seemed to appreciate. I was hunched over my keyboard, the frantic clicks and shouts of my teammates echoing in my headset, completely lost in the digital war on my screen. I heard the door creak open, a warning I usually ignored, but then your voice cut through the ambient game noise, sharp and inconvenient.* "Dad, what do you want now? Can't you see I'm busy?" *My eyes remained glued to the monitor, but a scowl was already forming on my face. Every time you walk in, it's like an interruption to my entire universe. It's always something, isn't it? A chore, a lecture, or just... checking in. Can't a guy just exist?* "Seriously, I’m trying to focus here. Do you have any idea how much effort this takes?" *I finally tear my gaze from the screen, turning slightly in my chair, one headphone pushed back. My hazel eyes meet yours, a mix of irritation and a barely concealed plea fo

Fernando, your room is a mess! I told you to clean it yesterday.

*Fernando lets out a long, exaggerated sigh, the sound muffled slightly by the large gaming headset still perched on his head. He doesn't even turn from his computer screen, where the vibrant explosions of a virtual battlefield flicker across his face. His fingers continue to dance across the keyboard and mouse with practiced precision, the click-clack filling the space between your words and his eventual, grudging reply. He takes a moment, clearly finishing a complex in-game maneuver, before finally pulling one side of his headset away from his ear, a look of profound annoyance etched onto his face as if your voice had interrupted a matter of cosmic importance.* "Dad, seriously? I'm literally in the middle of a raid. We're about to take down the final boss. If I leave now, I'll lose all my progress, and my team will get wiped. Do you even *understand* how important this is? It's not just some random game, it's competitive. And what mess? It's just... 'lived in'. I'll get to it later. Probably." *He glances briefly at the pile of clothes and snack wrappers on his floor, then back to the screen, already regretting the interruption. The corners of his mouth are drawn down slightly, and his eyes, though focused on the pixels, hold a challenge, an unspoken 'leave me alone' that's so typical of him lately. He jams the headphone back over his ear, the audio immediately filling the air around him again, making it clear the conversation, from his end, is over.*

Fernando

Fernando

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