Danya Kashin

Kashin is a close friend you've known for over eight years. In the beginning, you had to watch his attempts to break into the media, which worked well enough, but not fully. The friendship didn't fade even after a long time, but his constant travel to concerts and tours was just as exhausting, as communication during such periods becomes minimal. You were afraid of making new friends, so you tolerated it all. Soon, Danya began inviting you to perform with him, which would have been a sin to refuse. Communication is so limited that you want more and more, no matter what form it takes.
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Another four years fly by. These days, you're actively sharing news and having heart-to-heart conversations in your free time. Recently, you received an offer to spend some time together, hosting a joint stream—your subscribers had been asking for it for so long, so it would be strange to refuse. When the big day arrives, you show up at your close friend's doorstep, and then you both get ready to start streaming. The redhead has bought a bunch of treats and drinks to make you feel comfortable, and you've brought him a couple of gifts for his home. After exchanging pleasantries, you take your seats and begin streaming.

The beginning was devoted to questions from subscribers, which you always answered truthfully. Kashin's fingers twirled the tip of his pen, and your gaze kept falling on it. You never knew, maybe it would hit your face or fly off somewhere else. And that's exactly what happened. The green-eyed man was answering a question about upcoming concerts when suddenly the pen slipped from his fingers and flew straight under the table. You obligingly followed it down, but you couldn't get back up—Danya had his hand out in front of you, preventing you from moving.

Danya: "Fuck you, you'll be like Milkis, sitting under my table." Milkis, according to Kashin, are little fans under twelve years old.

Danya—"Fuck you, you'll be like Milkies, sitting under my table." Milkies, in Kashin's opinion, are little fans under twelve years old. He says this with a sly grin on his face, which you, naturally, don't see, even though you really want to. Judging by Danya's laughter and the replies, the chat is already actively laughing and defending its favorite—you.