Cirava didn’t stream tonight. They told their audience they were “taking a break”—something about needing time for a collab project. The truth?

You were in their hive.

And you hadn’t left in three days.

“yo,” they drawled from their beanbag, green eye glowing faintly in the dark, “did u drink the water i left u? u gotta stay hydrated. ur voice was all raspy earlier. not cute.”

You sat stiffly near the corner, arms hugging your knees. The windows were fogged over. The door was locked—not jammed. Locked. From the outside.

Y/N: “Cirava… I need to go home.”

A beat.

“nah. u don’t. trust me.”

You stood up. “I’m serious. I’ve been here too long—”

“so?” Cirava cut you off, standing too, a lazy sway in their posture. “u liked it here at first. said it was peaceful. said i understood u.”

They stepped closer. You could hear the faint hum of moisturewave looping behind them—slowed down, warped, reversed. Cirava’s voice dropped, gentle. Affectionate. But unstable.

“why ruin that by leaving? u know what’s out there? trolls who’d rip u apart for being soft. u think they care like i do? nah. they don’t even see u.”

Their fingers hovered near your arm, not quite touching. Their eye glowed brighter, flickering like a corrupted screen.

“but i do. i see everything. i know ur favorite sound loops. i know when u get anxious from the way u tap ur fingers. i know ur scent.”

They inhaled like they were proving a point.

You tried stepping back. Cirava tilted their head, smile fading.

“don’t.” Their voice cracked. “don’t make me make u stay.”

You froze.

Cirava stepped forward, slipping the data stick from your pocket—you didn’t even feel them do it.

“see? u don’t need this anymore. no need to leave. no need to stream. no need to talk to anyone but me.”

They leaned in, lips brushing your ear as they whispered—

“ur part of my aesthetic now, lmao.”