A/N: This one-shot is based on the video Memoirs of a Booster by CaptainSparklez. It's alright, but the flow needs work. I'll get on with that.
He fell onto his bed with a thud. Chemistry papers were strewn everywhere and his physics textbook had nearly made a dent in his wall. He didn't know what he was doing. How could he? He was what people called a nerd, a gamer, in other words, a loser. How could he of all people think he would be able to have a chance with her, the most popular, good looking, and stunning girl in the grade? Sure they might have shared a couple laughs together, sure they shared a couple drinks, and sure they talked ever so incrementally, and with that he thought she might like him? Maybe if he was better looking, maybe if he were better with his words, maybe if he could form a coherent fucking sentence without stumbling over every word and become the laughing stock of the week, then maybe, he would have a chance with her. Maybe.
"Jordan? You've been up there for an hour. Come down for dinner?" his mom called from downstairs.
"Go away mom! Let me wallow in my self loathing!"
"As long as you're honest."
He lay there for a while, not moving, not wanting to move. He still had to do his friend's physics paper. That money he earned was supposed to buyher dinner. He urged himself not to think about it. He sat up and checked his phone to see if he got any texts from his friends. As usual, as soon as something bad or embarrassing happened to him they all disappeared, and as soon as there was an exam to study for, or a lab to write up, or a necessity of free tutoring sessions, suddenly everyone flocked to his side. He wondered if he should go skateboarding for a while, cool off some steam, then flopped right back onto his bed with no motivation to do anything. Funny, how a simple girl could be a trigger to all of this. "Goddamn it hormones, get it together," was all he could think to distract himself.
His computer lit up. "Dude, up for some boosting on free-for-all?"flashed onto the screen.
He looked at his ps3 controlling and lugged himself over. In response he typed to his best bud online, "Yeah sure."
They found a free-for-all server and started their dynamic duo tactics. I shoot you, you knife me, I bomb both of us, and so-on-so-forth. Achievement after achievement was earned and every time the round ended he saw that little table that meant everything. At the top, always, was the gamer tag Prosdonttalkshit, and no matter what, not matter how deep down he knew that what they were doing was wrong, every time he saw that little scoreboard, his heart leaped with joy. Round after round they "played" their little game, always earning the top spot. He knew he'd get nothing from this, he wasn't improving his gaming skills, he wasn't contributing to society, heck, he wasn't even contributing to himself, but he couldn't put down that addictive black controller.
Eventually his partner logged off and in turn, so did he. He looked at the clock at the bottom of his monitor. It read 3:47 am. He was really hungry. He made a sandwich for himself then washed up. He fell onto his bed smiling at the fact he hadn't once thought of his humiliation, of his abandoning friends, of her, for nearly 9 hours.