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Sweet Home

The sun was out, peering slightly through the curtained window. The lights in the small apartment were off, the only bit of light coming from a Tv that was turned on. A young man sat in front of it with a controller in hand. A headset on that was managing to drown out the noises coming from the world. The noises of the neighbours chatting or the slightly relaxing music that was played from the room next to him.

All of these sounds that he had grown accustomed too had changed, for a while it had turned to screaming, crying, grunts of pain and anguish. But all this did was make him lock and bared his door. He had enough food for about a month, so he didn't really need to leave his room. He didn't have friends that lived near. They were all online and lived in a different country. They had randomly gone dark a few days ago, and considering the way the world was, he could imagine the deadpanned look they'd be giving their monitor if they saw he was online.

But he had a single goal. A single objective that was driving him forward. To 100% every souls-like game that he had. A goal many would call simple, or easy with enough time. So now you must be wondering. 'Why hasn't he achieved this goal yet?'. And that comes with a clear and simple answer. He has the worst attention span known to mankind. Which now could actually be an accurate statement.

The only thing he's actually managed to continue with consistently would be his hobby. Ever since he first saw one in a game. He has had the most weirdest infatuation with the weapon called a glaive. Even he doesn't know why. There was just something about it. So with nothing to lose, he learnt. He taught himself from multiple different training methods that he found online. Different Katas that he could find. Just anything. And for absolutely no reason at all.

Staring down the screen in front of him, his eyes unblinking as he took in everything his opponent did, every move that was performed was engraved into his skull as he dodged each attack. Isshin the sword saint. The final boss to Sekiro. And the end to his conquest. The final Souls like game he owned. About to have achieved his goal in his early twenties. Parry after parry after parry as visible sweat was dripping down his face. And there it was. The final stun. His character rushed forward, the attack marker appearing as a true strike attack. Just one more button.

And black.

The screen turned off.

"NOOOOOOO!!!! WE WERE SO CLOSE!!!" A pure white version of himself screamed whilst leaning over his shoulder and reaching for the monitor in despair. And yet he just sat there. In pure silence. And then he broke down. "There was a single hit left." He muttered whilst clutching at his head. "What happened." He muttered again before appearing next to his laptop that was also black screening. No lights were on and the fans had shut off.

"The charge. Where's it gone." He muttered. "The damn thing ran out of battery!! How!? It's plugged in?!" The white version of himself shouted whilst running over to check with him. It was plugged in. The brick was hot. So what was wrong? He plugged in his phone and that got power. Was his laptop fucked? Unplugging it all, he laid it on his bed before flipping it over. "Pass me a screwdriver." He said with his hand outstretched. "Fuck you. You know I'm in your head." The other version told him making him groan before getting up and searching one of the draws.

Coming back to his empty bed and fighting with his laptop for the next ten minutes to try and pop it open. And the sight before him made him wish he didn't. The insides were smoking and small parts of it looked melted. "The fans must have broke and couldn't cool it down." He muttered before collapsing down with tears building up in his eyes. "All that work. For nothing." He muttered again. "Wow. Yeah that is gone. Might as well buy a new one." White version advised getting a deadpanned look in response. "If you weren't lying. Others like you made that impossible for me." He explained getting a nod in return. "Correct."