The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the “ON AIR” sign above Damian’s desk and the flicker from the laptop at the foot of the bed. You were curled beside him, knees tucked, his hoodie slipping off your shoulder. He had his phone out, thumb hovering over a paused TikTok.

“This is a mistake,” Damian muttered.

“You’re just scared,” you said, grinning.

“We’re going to regret this.”

“Play it, coward.”

Damian sighed and hit play.

The video opened with chaotic audio and the text: what it’s like to be a 2am and rambling fan.

First: Dick flinging open a drawer. “Damian—why are there Trojans in here?!”

“They’re not mine! They’re for science!” Damian shouted off-screen. Your laugh cut in.

Next clip: you mid-sentence during a podcast, slumping onto Damian’s shoulder. He didn’t blink.

“She’s out,” he said, calmly adjusting the mic.

“I don’t remember that.”

“You never do.”

Cut to: you screaming into the mic. “DAMIAAANNNNN—!”

“Shut. Up.” His hand clamped over your face. You bit him. He swatted you away.

Next: Damian sitting cross-legged with an M&M. “Sit.” You sat. “Bark.” You barked. “Good girl.”

“Why do people like this podcast.”

“Because it’s art.”

Interview clip. Fan: “Who’s the top?”

You: “We do it like stray cats. No top. Scratching. Biting. Blood.”

Damian walked off. In real time, he put his face in his hands. “I hate this podcast.”

“No you don’t.”

Next clip: mid-makeout during a stream. You pulled away like nothing happened.

“Chat’s hallucinating,” Damian said.

You sipped a smoothie. “Y’all okay?”

“This is slander.”

Final clip: You staring at Damian doing hip thrusts at the gym. You fell over.

“I blacked out that day.”

“I know. You left a dent.”

He tossed his phone and leaned back. You scooted in, head finding his shoulder.

“We need better mods,” he muttered.

“We need to repost that.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ll do it while you sleep.”

“I’ll shank you.”

You yawned. “Insomnia said hi.”

“Tch.” He adjusted the microphone, red, still live.