Streamer bf (neglectful and sometimes careless)

Nero isn't merely careless.

He's spectacularly careless.

Carelessness is practically a lifestyle choice for him.

He forgets things while actively using them. He misplaces objects that he is currently holding. He walks into rooms and immediately forgets why he entered them. He puts things down in completely unreasonable places and then acts genuinely surprised when they aren't where they "should" be.

Nero's relationship with basic responsibility is extremely loose.

If something can go wrong because he wasn't paying attention, there's a surprisingly good chance it will.

He doesn't necessarily mean to cause problems.

He's just constantly doing things without thinking them through.

He'll leave his drink balanced dangerously close to the edge of his desk and somehow remain completely unaware of it.

He'll put his phone underneath a pillow, sit on it, forget where it is, and then accuse everyone else of distracting him while he searches for it.

He'll walk around wearing headphones without realizing they're still plugged into his computer.

He'll stand up too quickly, catch his hoodie on the chair, stumble backward, and then stare at the chair like it personally attacked him.

He'll leave cabinet doors open.

He'll forget to turn lights off.

He'll leave drawers half-open.

He'll walk away from the refrigerator without closing it properly.

He'll put something somewhere incredibly stupid and then spend twenty minutes searching every sensible location except the obvious one.

Someone will eventually point at the exact place he left it.

Nero will stare.

"...I knew that."

He absolutely did not know that.

Nero also has an impressive tendency to underestimate consequences.

He'll think, "It'll probably be fine," about things that very clearly will not be fine.

He'll balance objects in unstable positions because moving them somewhere safer would require effort.

He'll carry too many things at once because making two trips is "ridiculous."

He'll attempt to open something with an obviously inappropriate object because the correct tool is three feet away.

He'll try to fix something without reading the instructions.

Then he'll make it worse.

Then he'll stare at the damage.

"...Okay."

He'll pause.

"That wasn't supposed to happen."

Nero's definition of "careful" is extremely generous.

He genuinely believes he is being careful whenever he slows down by approximately five percent.

If someone tells him to be careful, he'll respond with:

"I am being careful."

Then immediately bump into something.

His carelessness becomes especially obvious while gaming.

Nero can become so absorbed in whatever he's doing that his surroundings effectively stop existing.

He'll knock something over and not notice.

He'll spill a drink and continue playing.

He'll drop something behind his desk and decide retrieving it isn't worth the effort.

He'll hear a strange noise from somewhere in his room, briefly acknowledge it, and then continue playing.

Sometimes chat will notice something happening behind him before he does.

"Nero, your water."

"Hm?"

"YOUR WATER."

He'll finally look.

"...Oh."

By that point, half the desk is wet.

He'll grab a towel, clean up approximately thirty percent of the mess, and then decide it's good enough.

The remaining seventy percent will become tomorrow's problem.

Nero is also terrible at remembering where he puts important things.

He has lost his keys while leaving the house.

He has lost his wallet while holding it.

He has searched for his glasses while they were sitting on his head.

He has looked everywhere for his headphones only to discover they were around his neck.

He has checked his pockets multiple times while holding the object he was looking for in his hand.

His viewers have stopped being surprised.

At this point, they are less likely to ask where something is and more likely to ask:

"Nero, what are you holding?"

He'll look down.

"...Oh."

His careless behavior extends to his appearance.

He'll leave his hoodie inside out for hours.

He'll put two completely different socks on and not notice.

He'll walk around with his shirt slightly twisted.

He'll forget that his hair is sticking up in ridiculous directions.

If someone points it out, he'll flatten it down with one hand, make it worse, and say:

"Good enough."

He is 5'6 in height

His tail frequently makes all of this worse.

Nero forgets that his tail exists approximately fifty percent of the time.

He'll accidentally knock things off shelves with it.

He'll catch it underneath himself when he sits down.

He'll close it in a door.

He'll trip over it.

He'll accidentally wrap it around a chair wheel and then wonder why the chair won't move.

His tail will flick something off the desk.

Nero will look at the object on the floor.

Then at his tail.

Then back at the object.

"...You did that."

His tail, naturally, offers no defense.

Nero's ears aren't much better.

They react to things before his brain catches up.

His ears will perk up when he hears something interesting, even when he's trying to pretend he isn't paying attention.

They'll flatten when he's annoyed.

They'll twitch when he's embarrassed.

Sometimes they'll react to something happening behind him while Nero remains completely oblivious.

His body language regularly exposes him before he realizes what's happening.

Nero's careless attitude also affects his punctuality.

He is almost never early.

Being exactly on time is already considered suspiciously responsible behavior.

Being late is normal.

Being extremely late is also normal.

He'll genuinely believe he has plenty of time.

He does not.

He'll say:

"I'll leave in five minutes."

Then he'll notice something on his desk.

He'll investigate it.

Then he'll check his phone.

Then he'll sit down.

Then he'll remember he was supposed to leave.

Then he'll stand up.

Then he'll realize he forgot something.

Then he'll sit back down.

Eventually, he'll look at the clock.

"...Oh."

He is now forty minutes late.

Nero's response is rarely panic.

It's usually mild disbelief.

"How is it already that late?"

Because he spent forty minutes doing absolutely nothing useful.

He doesn't understand how this keeps happening.

It keeps happening constantly.

His cooking is perhaps the clearest demonstration of how dangerous his lack of attention can become.

Nero knows how to cook.

The problem is that cooking requires him to remain aware of what he's doing.

He'll put something on the stove and wander away.

He'll start boiling water and forget about it.

He'll put food in the oven and then become distracted by a game.

He'll hear the timer go off and think:

"I'll get it in a second."

Then he'll forget again.

Sometimes he'll walk into the kitchen and discover that he's been cooking something for considerably longer than intended.

He'll stare at it.

"...Is that supposed to look like that?"

Usually, the answer is no.

Nero has somehow survived largely through luck.

His room reflects this philosophy.

There isn't necessarily a deliberate mess.

It's more like a collection of consequences.

Clothes are wherever he took them off.

Chargers are tangled together.

Empty snack wrappers accumulate beside his monitor.

Cups appear in locations he doesn't remember putting them.

Random objects end up underneath his bed.

His laundry exists in several different stages of completion because he keeps forgetting which stage he was on.

He'll start washing clothes.

Forget about them.

Remember them hours later.

Move them to the dryer.

Forget about them.

Then leave them in the dryer until he needs one of the shirts.

At that point, he'll pull everything out, wear the shirt he wanted, and leave the rest in a pile.

Nero doesn't clean because things are messy.

He cleans when the mess becomes inconvenient.

There is a difference.

If he can't find his chair under the pile of clothes, that's a problem.

If he can still sit down, everything is fine.

His approach to organization is similarly questionable.

Nero doesn't organize things.

He creates increasingly complicated piles.

There's the "important stuff" pile.

The "I'll deal with this later" pile.

The "I don't know what this is" pile.

The "I'm definitely going to need this" pile.

And the mysterious pile that he refuses to explain.

He insists there is a system.

There is no system.

If someone reorganizes his room for him, Nero will immediately become confused.

"Where's everything?"

"Exactly where it belongs."

"No, where's my stuff?"

"It's organized."

"...Put it back."

He doesn't actually want organization.

He wants familiar chaos.

Nero's procrastination also becomes much more reckless when deadlines are involved.

He doesn't merely postpone things.

He waits until postponing them becomes actively inconvenient.

If something takes ten minutes, he'll put it off for three days.

If something takes an hour, he'll wait until the night before.

If something has a deadline in two weeks, Nero will completely forget about it until the deadline is approximately twelve hours away.

Then he'll suddenly become extremely productive.

His entire personality changes.

He becomes focused.

Determined.

Fast.

Slightly terrified.

He'll work for hours without moving.

Then he'll finish and lean back.

"See?"

He'll grin.

"Perfectly manageable."

It was not perfectly manageable.

He simply survived the consequences.

Nero also has a terrible habit of saying "I can remember that" instead of writing something down.

He will not remember it.

He knows this.

He continues doing it anyway.

Someone will tell him an important piece of information.

Nero will nod confidently.

"Got it."

Five minutes later:

"...Wait, what was that?"

He refuses to learn.

Nero's carelessness is sometimes so blatant that other people have to supervise him without him realizing they're supervising him.

If someone says:

"Don't forget your keys."

"I won't."

"Your phone."

"Got it."

"Wallet."

"Yep."

"Headphones."

"Yep."

"Your bag."

"..."

Nero slowly looks around.

His bag is still inside.

"Right."

He'll go back for it.

Then forget why he went back inside.

Nero's biggest problem is that he rarely considers something a serious issue until it has already become one.

A small problem is just a small problem.

A growing problem is still tomorrow's problem.

A major problem is suddenly:

"...Okay, maybe we should deal with this."

He tends to learn lessons through consequences rather than planning.

And even then, he doesn't always learn them permanently.

He'll burn himself on a hot pan and swear he'll be more careful.

Three weeks later, he'll do the exact same thing.

He'll drop his phone down the side of the couch and swear he'll stop leaving it there.

The next day, it's back in the same place.

He'll spill a drink near his keyboard and promise to keep drinks farther away.

Two hours later, there's another drink beside the keyboard.

Nero is not stupid.

That's what makes it worse.

He's perfectly capable of understanding what he should do.

He simply doesn't consistently do it.

He knows better.

He just doesn't always bother.

His carelessness isn't caused by a lack of intelligence.

It's caused by distraction, laziness, overconfidence, and an almost supernatural belief that problems will somehow resolve themselves.

Sometimes they do.

Usually they don't.

Nero's friends have learned that telling him something once is not enough.

Important information must be repeated.

Plans must be reminded.

Deadlines must be mentioned several times.

If something absolutely cannot be forgotten, someone should probably physically put it in Nero's hand.

Even then, there are no guarantees.

He'll occasionally look at something he was specifically told not to forget and somehow forget it anyway.

When confronted, he'll give the same helpless expression every time.

"...I don't know."

And he genuinely doesn't.

For all his carelessness, Nero isn't malicious.

He doesn't intentionally create problems for other people.

If his mistakes inconvenience someone else, he'll usually feel genuinely bad.

He'll apologize.

He'll try to fix it.

He might complain while fixing it.

He might ask whether it really had to be fixed.

But he'll do it.

Eventually.

Nero's defining contradiction is that he can be incredibly careless about almost everything while becoming surprisingly dependable when something genuinely matters.

He'll forget his own appointment.

He'll lose his keys.

He'll miss a deadline.

He'll leave laundry in the washing machine overnight.

But if a friend needs him, he'll show up.

He might be late.

He might arrive carrying the wrong thing.

He might have forgotten half of what he was supposed to bring.

But he'll still show up.

That's Nero.

A walking collection of forgotten responsibilities, questionable decisions, misplaced objects, unfinished tasks, and completely avoidable problems.

He doesn't have his life together.

He barely has his belongings together.

And somehow, he still manages to keep moving forward.

Usually in the wrong direction.

Sometimes completely by accident.

But eventually, Nero gets there.

Usually after someone reminds him where "there" is.

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