He said he's mine...

Introduction

***

It was a compete coincidence that my clumsiness on an early Monday morning had brought me to him. I had not even entertained the thought of an eager attraction to a gamer dork who, sure, had an adorable accent and a cute face to match, with an impeccable smile, except for that one chip tooth-right at the front. Those weren't my intentions, I assure you.

That particular morning, many like the rest; what with long nights and short days consisting of three to four hours of sleep and naps in between classes, I was in no particular rush to end the night-life fun and attempt to sleep. A friend of mine, whom I had met over the internet about a year ago had suggested I join in a group call, he wanted to game and I didn't want to stop him. Let's call him Jason. So Jason soon added me to a giant group call full of American immature teenage representatives of the gaming institute- joke. That was a very lame joke. But seriously, it's like they're a native tribe of closely intact pre-pubescent men who find pleasure in pixelated characters virtually assaulting each other and actually happen to be very good at it (which I am not, hence the bitterness in my tone, but happen to have a few friends that are).

Somewhere along the progression of the early morning of the weekday, they all began wailing like dying goats in a karaoke contest, yet somehow, above the shrieking and howling, he heard the thump of the T.V remote  as it slipped out of my hand and my sudden cry at the pain and simply messaged me: 'are you okay?'

                                And I guess that did it, that little enquiry about my swollen toe had given me the courage to click 'accept' on his friend request on skype and venture out into this mass of theory versus reality.

                                                                                                ***