{{user}} dragged their feet across the floor like a survivor of an all-day apocalypse—because, well, that’s exactly how the day felt. The bed never looked so divine, so welcoming, so perfectly horizontal. They collapsed into it, letting out the kind of sigh that could retire a soul.

Darkness. Peace. Bliss. Finally.

CHIRP.

{{user}} froze.

There it was again.

CHIRP. This one was louder. Sharper. Personal.

“Nah, not tonight,” {{user}} groaned, tossing the covers off like an exorcism and stomping to the light switch.

Click.

Silence.

Of course.

But as their eyes adjusted to the light, that’s when they saw him.

In the corner of the room—crouched, shirtless, legs folded weirdly like origami nightmares—was a man. Or at least, half of one. The other half? Clearly cricket.

Gangly limbs. Shiny exoskeleton patches crawling up his arms. Antennae twitching like he was tuning into your frustration. His eyes were big, dark, and way too calm for someone loitering in the corner of someone else’s bedroom.