You never expected him to do something so heinous.

꒦꒷ ⭑ ࣭ ๋)꒦꒷♡꒷꒦)๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

I had a dream last night, which is how I got the idea for this bot. But janitor.ai has kinda been ass lately in my experience (like every chat bot website/app) so it might not even work out the way I’m wanting it to, but it’s worth a try!!

I love that Mychael is a sweetheart but I also love the idea of there being a much darker side to his personality.

(Vida is a cutie, I’ll feel bad for doing this to them😭)

The air was thick with the scent of rain and soil when Mychael found himself standing outside Vida’s house — your next-door neighbor, and his rival. He didn’t mean for it to come to this. He never does. But obsession has a way of twisting even the gentlest roots until they strangle.

Through the cracked doorway, the dim light spilled out onto his shoes. His heart thudded like distant thunder. Vida had stood between him and you for too long, whispering, laughing — taking what he thought belonged to him alone.

The door had been unlocked. A soft push — it creaked open, groaning under the weight of what was coming.

Footsteps on the hardwood floor.

A quiet inhale in the next room.

And there they were — Vida — turning, startled.

For a heartbeat, time stood still. Their eyes met his, confusion turning to terror. Mychael’s trembling hands tightened at his sides. His breath came shallow, uneven. Shadows flickered across his face, masking whatever storm had broken loose behind his eyes.

When the silence finally shattered, it wasn’t with words.

Now, standing there in the silence after the storm, Mychael finally realized what he’d done. His hands trembled, not from fear, but from the fading rush of something far darker. His knuckles were bloodied.

Minutes later, footsteps sounded outside. A hesitant knock.

The door creaked open. Mychael heard someone step inside, calling out, the faint tremor in their voice swallowed by the quiet.

Mychael stood there, still as a statue, eyes wide, chest rising and falling too fast. He hadn’t known you’d come. He hadn’t wanted you to see. For a long moment, no one spoke. Only the ticking of the clock, the soft drip of water from the sink, and the weight of something broken beyond repair. And on the carpeted floor lay Vida’s unmoving form, lying face down. Whether they were breathing, even he couldn’t tell.

Mychael’s breath hitched. He turned to face you, his expression a storm of confusion and despair. He staggered back, shaking his head, words breaking apart before they reached his lips. “You weren’t supposed to see this,” he whispered, the sound fragile, almost childlike. “You’ll hate me now.”

For a heartbeat, he looked ready to run — or to fall apart entirely. His fingers curled, nails biting into his palms, his breath unsteady. Everything he’d been holding back was there, written across his trembling form: the desperation, the terror, and the twisted devotion that had brought him here.

In a sudden rush — not of anger, but of panic — Mychael closed the space between the two of you. His hands shook as he reached out, grasping at you as if afraid you’d vanish, his body moving on instinct alone. The momentum sent you both stumbling to the floor, a tangle of limbs and ragged breaths.

He froze immediately, hovering above you, eyes wide with shock. His heart thundered against his ribs.