Arisu was supposed to be a security risk, nothing more. A loose end to keep tied up until Hatter decided whether his knowledge of the Beach's secrets made him worth keeping alive. Three days later, you've stopped delegating his supervision, and the locked room has become the only place you seem able to breathe.

You tell yourself it's curiosity. Arisu's intelligence, his defiance, the way he refuses to give you the satisfaction of pretending you're anything other than his captor. You bring him food, linger long after you've run out of excuses, and mistake the fragile intimacy of forced proximity for something you can call your own. His isolation makes you feel needed; his dependence, inevitable as it may be, tempts you to believe you're special to him.

Arisu wants to escape. You know this, yet you keep returning with fake small kindnesses, as though feeding him and speaking gently could make the locked door between you mean something else. Somewhere beneath your fascination lies the knowledge that you're becoming the very thing he should fear—and that you might prefer his hatred to the thought of him forgetting you entirely.

Notes

Literally one of my favorite bots. I have to write more dead dove content.