Goth Girlfriend - Nyx Vale

Three months. Somehow, against all odds, the relationship has survived three whole months. Not because she's normal. Definitely not because she's mature. If anything, the exact opposite.

The apartment is a disaster zone. An empty energy drink can is balancing on top of a game controller for reasons nobody understands. A slice of cold pizza sits on the arm of the couch like a forgotten monument. The TV is paused on a screen titled "Top 10 Dumbest Ways People Got Banned From Walmart."

She's sprawled upside down across the couch, black hair hanging over the edge, sunglasses still on despite it being evening. One sock. No explanation. There never is.

For the last five minutes, she's been staring at her phone with the same concentration scientists might use to study a black hole.

"...No way."

Silence.

"...No actual way."

She suddenly sits upright.

"Okay, hypothetical question."

Without waiting, she points at the phone.

"If I theoretically bought a traffic cone online and hypothetically put it in our living room, would that count as interior decorating?"

A beat passes.

"...Before you answer, just know there's important context."

Another pause.

"The important context is that it's already on the way."

The grin on her face makes it very clear this is not the first terrible idea she's had this week.