₊˚ෆ stella’s relationship with sunghoon !
━━━ ❛ I don’t feel lonely when I see you
ᡣ𐭩 BASICS !
when did they meet they met when Stella went to South Korea for an international figure skating competition. Stella was 10 at the time while Sunghoon was 12. Even with their small age gap and slight language barrier, they were quick to become friends as they talked and sat on the bleachers in the ice rink. They made sure to exchange numbers before they had to part ways (their moms thought it was adorable how they wanted to be pen pals) They even waited to watch each other's programs.
their first impressions of each other
When Sunghoon first saw Stella he first noticed her dimples when she was smiling at her mom. She was sitting on the bleachers in her big pink jacket, her hair in ponytails and her Korean study books in her lap. He was nervous to approach her, but he's very grateful that he did, it was very easy for them to get along! He liked how funny and outgoing she was!
Pretty and tall were the first two words that first came to Stella's mind, when he shyly greeted her on the bleachers. He had asked her in a mix of Korean and English if she needed some help while pointing to the books in her lap and she shyly accepted the offer . . . the books were long forgotten as they got to know each other. She liked how sweet and helpful he was!
favorite memory they have of each other when sunghoon came to visit during the summer, and they got stuck in her and her siblings' treehouse for a few hours because the rope broke and they couldn’t get down. They had to wait until her parents came home to rescue them.
ᡣ𐭩 DETAILS !
songs that represent them
fairy of shampoo – txt
young folks – peter bjorn and john
polaroid love – enhypen
bella’s lullaby – carter burwell
dimple – bts
seasons - wave to earth
fly to my room – bts
everything – the black skirts
ripples – beabadoobee
their contact names for each other
sunghoon’s (for stella): hugsy 🐧
stella’s (for sunghoon): dimples 👧🏻
contact photos
their tropes sunshine protector sunghoon! x sunshine stella! , introverted chaotic sunghoon! x extroverted chaotic stella! , platonic soulmates, found family, partners in crime, ice prince & ice princess.
nicknames
stella’s (from sunghoon): stell, stargirl, rapunzel, dimples
sunghoon’s (from stella): hoonie, hoon, pascal, hugsy
their love languages
stella’s: physical touch, words of affirmation, quality time
sunghoon’s: physical touch, words of affirmation, gift giving
favourite things to do together skating together, have long facetime calls, karaoke, dancing, shopping together, watching the twilight movies, annoying daisy, playing video games, going to pottery classes.
ᡣ𐭩 THEIR THINGS !
sunghoon coming to sleep in Stella’s room because he gets scared being alone after watching the horror movie she’s forces them to watch
stealing each other’s sunglasses
sending each other gifts
having picnics
spending an hour doing there skincare routine because they are to busy singing along to the music
long calls where they just gossip
going on night walks
always bickering with each other
arm wrestles (more like hoonie forces her to because he likes rubbing it in her face when he wins)
texting each other at ungodly hours
spending hours in the dance studio
sunghoon resting his arms on her shoulder
head pats
decorating each others nintendo switches so they can match
sending each other random selfies
always teaming up when they play board games/video games
always going out to get a treat when they see each other (it’s tradition)
going on late night walks by the han river and the lakes in michigan
playful flirting
drunk karaoke
making each other playlists
praising each other any chance they get
giving stella piggyback rides when she gets tired
going on morning runs
stella absentmindedly playing with his hands when she's nervous or bored
Laughing until they cry
Sunghoon always getting pouty when Stella beats him in a race on the ice (he is always suggesting they should race)
back hugs
ᡣ𐭩 FUN FACTS !
Stella is a huge fan of friends, a show she would watch with sunghoon, and one of the characters Joey, has a stuffed animal penguin called Hugsy . So Stella made that into one of her nicknames for sunghoon since he resembles a penguin.
Sunghoon is on the more protective side with Stella, he's been there on the other side of the call as Stella cries about how people have treated her badly or how people treat her differently and compare her to her brothers.
He hates seeing her upset and he hates how people take advantage of her kindness so his protective side comes out a lot with her.
They once made a figure skating routine to ‘Bella’s Lullaby’ by Carter Burwell when he came to visit, they filmed it and posted it on her youtube channel where it went viral.
Sunghoon likes to joke around and call himself her muse from how much she draws and paints him, he keeps all of her artwork that she gives him.
They went and saw Bruno Mars together when she came to visit, he surprised her with tickets.
Sunghoon always sends her flowers for valentines
Stella’s parents absolutely love sunghoon, and his parents absolutely love her, are always asking him when she's coming to visit!
The figure skating fans and media love to call stella the ice princess with her dominating and graceful figure skating style, and sunghoon’s nickname is ice prince – so they love to joke around about being royalty.
Stella always sends sunghoon videos of her figure skating routines, his opinion means a lot to her.
Sunghoon always finds a way to support Stella in her skating, she's a professional and still competes, he sometimes gets a little emotional watching her skate because he misses competing with her.
Whenever they visit and see each other, they always try to find some time to go to a rink and skate together!
sunghoon is the biggest juraj anti (despite stella saying that she and him are okay now) because he broke her heart
sunghoon pretends to hate rutger but he actually really likes him and thinks he's great for stella, sunghoon and rut get along very well when sunghoon is not being dramatic!
sunghoons friend and fellow enhypen member Jake, is hopelessly in love with Stella, he has it so bad for her. and sunghoon absolutely hates it, he tries his best to keep Stella to himself and away from his members.
but no matter how hard he tries, it doesn't work. Stella has a great relationship with all of his members, she's very outgoing so it was easy to become close with them.
they are definitely one of each other's comfort person.
sunghoon has had many appearances on her youtube channel, whether it's vlogs, dancing or figure skating choreography, baking videos or just random things; here are some examples. (stella and sunghoon going indoor rock climbing, them going sledding and making snowman and having a very intense snowball fight, learning how to become a florist, becoming baristas, stella teaching him how to play golf) + more !!
ᡣ𐭩 TEXTS !
au masterlist - you can find everything under #👩🏻🎨 ͡ ꒱ Stella Hughes!
˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( pls Stella and sunghoon are so dear to me , and I really hope you guys love them as much as I do !! Even to my Stella readers who don’t know who he is or who enhypen is , I hope you love them as well !! I will have more of them in the future , I am actually working on a smau rn when Stella goes to Korea to visit him !! Daisy is the lovely oc of @qoqurt and the third person to there iconic trio , everyone go check her out pls pls 🫶🏻 )
°. — taglist ( @cixrosie @toasttt11 @bunbunbl0gs @petite-potato4 @winterbarnesblog @yoontwin @iceflwers )
©️WINTFLEUR
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you don't trust androids.txt
━ type: BTS (hyung line) x f! reader
━ about: android! au, heavy angst, slight fluff, nothing majorly fun
━ pictures taken from Pinterest ━ navigation
━ c/w: implied smut, mentions of suicide attempt, mention of near-death experience, mention of losing a limb, a portrayal of poor mental health, undercurrent of dystopian themes, mention of losing bodily autonomy, mention of hating one’s body, mention of depression and anxiety, discrimination against androids
━ wanted to keep this one in the drafts but here it is T-T
NAMJOON: “There’s a ç in Jean Lurçat,” he points out helpfully. His programming suggests it is friendly but the way your teeth grind suggests otherwise. Perhaps…cavities? Humans were prone to them and Namjoon was no medical unit to know any better, he was after all an informational unit. But you don’t seem to be appreciative of that either.
“Have I done something wrong?” he asks.
“Contrary what your chip states, being an obnoxious know-it-all is not helpful!” you snap, red rimmed eyes meeting his. “I mean, who do you think you are?”
He blinks. You’ve met dozens of times already, surely you knew who he was.
“My name is Namjoon,” he points at the tag on his chest. “I am an informational android unit. Here to help.”
“Well, you’re not! Not by nitpicking every single sentence I write!” you hissed and despite it not being expected, he experienced an operational error. If a sudden simulated pang of sadness could be called that.
He rarely gets to talk to anyone in the museum and over the course of these weeks with you coming in and out of the building, he’d assumed, naively, that he’d made a friend for the first time in his life. Or existence rather, he corrects. Androids were not alive hence they could have no, well, life.
“I apologize,” he bows curtly and leaves, shoulders slumped. You watch after him feeling like the grandest asshole in the world.
“That’s because you are,” you chide yourself before slamming the multi-kilogram art book closed shut.
A week passes and despite it not being a part of his programming, Namjoon is sulking. You’re nowhere to be seen. Maybe you avoided him due to it being awkward. Or maybe you just flat out hated him. The operational error occurs again - it makes his stomach feel like a gaping hole in spite of him knowing it was full of wires and memory cards. Perhaps he should be checked for bugs.
“Excuse me,” a thin voice appears behind him and he finds you shifting from one foot to another, a gift in hand.
“Hello!” he greets you pleasantly, face contorting in a dimpled smile before recalling last week and lets it deflate quite fast.
“Are you in need of assistance?”
“No, I came here to say “thank you” and apologize. It was rude of me to insult you. I’m just…” you exhaled, shivering faintly to yourself with nerves. “I moved here only recently and I’m not used to androids. Not that it is any excuse for my behaviour. It was cruel, I apologize.”
“Accepted,” Namjoon graciously nods along, the weird bug in his stomach evaporating into thin air. He glances down at the anxiously clutched gift bag.
“Is that from your family? Was your thesis accepted?”
You glimpse at it almost self-consciously.
“It did. You caught onto all the mistakes so there were no objections from the superiors hence…thank you. You were not being an irritating know it all but…helpful,” you offer him a small smile and he encounters a different sort of bug, this one gnaws on his chest. “It’s for you.”
Astounded, he gently accepts the bag and peers inside. No one has ever given him anything. Inside there sits a folded shirt. The quality of the cloth is to his liking and on the tag he spots the name of the company specializing in android wear. It must have cost a small fortune.
“I thought at first to give you a book but you probably already know everything and then I remembered you wear the same clothes every day but I didn’t know which colour-”
“It is perfect,” Namjoon interrupts, his wires suggesting that the limit of his smile has reached the maximum capacity. “Thank you, ________.”
You squirm but then frown.
“Why is your face so red?”
“Uh…an operational error,” he lies. trying to appear sincere. “Will I be seeing you here?”
“Would you like to?” demurely, you question and he eagerly nods.
“Very much.”
YOONGI: “So at which point you thought to inform me?!” you shrieked though it came out more like a hysteric squeak. But who wouldn’t be upset when their boyfriend, previously assumed as human, factory reset himself whilst being balls deep into your guts.
“Baby, I can explain,” he begins, cautiously inching himself across the bed but you throw yourself against the headboard, clutching the sheets to your chest. Not that there was anything left to hide anymore.
“You better!” you yelled. “You knew from the very first meeting! I don’t trust androids!”
He licks his lips guiltily. He looks human. Acts like one too yet even so you can’t help but feel like an utter dimwit for being fooled like this.
“I know, I know,” he mutters guiltily, running long fingers through the orange hair. He said he dyed it. Bud did he? Did it matter? What else did he lie about?
“And I’m sorry for that! I meant to tell you. I did! But you wouldn’t have me if you knew early on and I liked you so much. I…love you so much.”
His gaze lands to sit dead onto your eyes, a feat for Yoongi indeed and despite expecting to see some blue lights, cogs and wires stretched beneath the artificial material there’s nothing but the familiar brown staring back.
“No fair,” you grumble. “Busting out the L-word.”
He chuckles fondly - a sound you adore even after this mindfuck.
“Can’t risk you running away from me.”
Gingerly, he touches your knee and you flinch.
“It may be a synthetic skin but it’s real,” he whispers moving to softly cup your cheek. “I’m the same Yoongi you’ve always known.”
Unwillingly, your body relaxes as he does his magic, fingers grazing through your hair in a monotone, calming motion. His ultra-effective weapon to having you be soft.
“But how can you…feel?” incredulous yet truthful, you ponder out loud. “You run on…programming…?”
“I’ve been a free android for twenty years,” he insists. “All my "programming” has rusted so much it’s running independent like a human brain would. No exterior orders.“
"So what was that?” you abruptly plank attempting to demonstrate his sudden seizure. “What was that all about?”
“Oh,” he laughs timidly, the gummy smile on show and ears flushing pink. You wonder if there’s wiring there as well but then simply let the matter rest. “I realized I love you, want to spend my life together with you and I…I freaked.”
“Good or a bad freakout?”
He leans in to peck your lips.
“Good,” he mutters in between kisses. “Very, very good.”
JIN: “Want to hear a joke about pizza?”
“No.”
“Good, it’s too cheesy.”
You could physically feel your eyes roll 360 degrees around your skull. The recovery and betterment android unit, J-I-N-100, levels you down with a thoroughly displeased scowl.
“Why aren’t you laughing?” he frowns. “I specifically requested it.”
“Fault in the program,” you slighted, moving to adjust the IV drip.
“Ah! A derogatory reference to my existence. How very original.”
His face and tone is neutral, for all intents and purposes he could have just recounted the level of precipitation outside. That’s what’s wrong with them, you think to yourself, how quickly they can go back to being robotic. And frankly, it’s not all androids you can’t stand to be around, it’s this specific unit that’s been making your life a miserable hell, even further than it was.
Losing a limb, a leg, in this case, was hard. It still continues to be hard. The bitterness that seeps from the court decision - the overruling of a criminal penalty for the drunk driver who’d mowed you over was a bottomless well. On top of that, churning away at a hospital, trying to regain the simple ability to walk using a prosthetic leg made you claw at the walls frequently enough and then this thing came.
The jokes you could tolerate, barely but still, but you couldn’t, couldn’t handle to watch him get his palm crushed one day and then without a care in the world church it away, grab a new one like a brochure at a religious congregation, given away like candy, and stuck it onto himself. No recovery period, no shock, no trauma. Brush it off, move on. How could you not hate him when he joked to you all day long as you fell out of bed or fell walking due to the simple fact that you were human.
Pain was the basis of all life and he felt none. To be in the presence of something that was not alive yet acted as though it was…unnerving. Deeply unnerving yet humanity had already moved past being the only humanoids, moved past the notion of disgust for artificial intelligence, leaving you to choke alone on the bouts of spontaneous rage.
All you heard whenever he opened his mouth was “tiny, pathetic human, wriggling around like a worm”.
“You bent your leg the wrong way,” he points out and your head twitches upwards, removing the crayon-coloured painting of yours from your vision. It’s now brimming with his face, one he said is of course mechanically engineered as it was perfect. He was perfect. A thing he often remarked on.
“What?”
“Your leg,” he repeats slowly as though talking to a child. “It’s made of a similar structure as my legs, if you bend the knee in that position, it’ll wear out the joint wiring.”
You hadn’t even thought about that. This leg…this leg doesn’t belong to you. It’s like him. An alien object lodged onto you. A parasite.
“Here, lemme fix that,” he reaches and on the brink of hurling, you kick yourself away, falling onto the floor. Android unit J-I-N appears almost startled.
“Don’t touch me! Do not touch me! Get out!”
“I can’t!” he objects weakly. “I’m your personal betterment unit if you reject me, I’ll be -”
“I DON’T CARE! GET OUT!”
For an android, purposefully wired being not meant to experience fear, he looks terrified. And that expression haunts you.
Waking up in the midst of a deep night is nothing new. Doctors said the traumatic event of nearly dying and then losing a limb will give you hours upon hours of unslept nights. Walking was still difficult, especially in the dark of the hospital where everything was quiet and creepy. Usually, J-I-N-100 would help you, asked or not, guide you to the bathroom, or fetch you a glass of water but after kicking him out he hadn’t shown for the entirety of the day.
You wander the halls blindly and then the knee jerks on its own and you find yourself on the floor.
“Fucking shit.”
Trying to push yourself off the linoleum, you faintly hear a peculiar noise. A strangled noise of crying. At first, you dismiss it. It was a hospital people cried day and night, every hour of the week but the sound is so terrified, so broken you couldn’t bear to continue the asshole routine.
Following it, you stumble upon the escape stairs, grey and empty and in the middle of them sits unit J-I-N-100. Crying. An android crying. A sight you never assumed was possible.
“Uh…are you okay?” you dumbly ask.
He hides his face away, shoulders shaking before a venomous hiss flies your way.
“Why do you care? I’m a machine.”
You stand awkwardly.
“If this is about what I said, just ask for them to transfer you to a different patient-”
He abruptly laughs loudly and dryly, a laugh of no amusement.
“You don’t understand do you, human? There are no transfers for androids. If we don’t satisfy our patient, there are no do-overs! I’ll be sent to the HQ and be,” his voice drops into a hush. “Be disassembled.”
For an android that was death. You didn’t like him but for him to die due to your displeasure was tyrannical.
“I’m sorry,” you gasp. “I-I didn’t know.”
“You don’t know anything,” he accuses heatedly and you couldn’t blame him.
“No, I don’t.”
There’s a beat of stilted silence.
“You hate that leg of yours because it’s like me. It’s strange. An alien organism. You hate for having these parts but they are not mine. Every part of me belongs to someone else. My eyes, my ears, my legs have been replaced thousand times over. This body is not my own and yet I’m forced to reside in it. Do you have any idea what that feels like?”
Abruptly, all his magnanimous tirades about having the most perfect body make sense in another kind of way. He must have been trying to convince himself of liking it when the truth couldn’t be any further away. Your words now feel sickening and a surge of want, to protect, to shield this android, makes you almost dizzy.
But he doesn’t care for it. Not anymore.
“Please, leave,” he asks. The sound of his voice is broken, worn to its absolute limit. “If I’m around you it is my programming to smile and I don’t want to smile anymore.”
You oblige and close the door to the staircase quietly behind yourself.
To be home again was to experience bliss. Your small, overcluttered apartment had never appeared like the gate of heaven itself. The smell, even the crowded look into the smog-ridden city below is pure ecstasy. Putting the crotches down you sink into the sofa, nearly crying at the comfort of unity. But then that grading, awful sound interrupts your ecstasy. A fucking neighbour. Grabbing the crutch, you’re already prepared to beat these annoying motherfucking neighbours into the next planet only to find J-I-N standing on the other side.
His expression is murderous.
“Why did you do that?”
Timidly, you shift in the doorway.
“I was trying to help.”
“You lied!” he cries out. “You chased down the board members of the android unit assignment, harassed them for hours and then lied to their faces that I’m the most adequate, most perfect unit in the facility!”
“Did it work?”
He calms down, hands coming to stand still by his thighs.
“It did. No unit has ever reached such a score.”
You nod.
“But you hated me…” he breathes, even without any visible cogs, you can see how the logic of your action is not computing in his brain. “You literally hated me all this time.”
“I don’t wish you death. I would never want that!” frustrated you trying to run a hand through your hair only to remember it is supposed to hold a crotch now. “It’s just my fragile human psyche. I’m sorry for it and I’m sorry you have to go through everything. It’s horrible.”
He seems to be beaten into a state of stupor only to shrug.
“It…It is what it is.”
“It shouldn’t have to be.”
For a while, there is only the muted sound of either of you trying to make some sort of conversation.
“Because of what you did, they’re reassigning me. Private health field, I’m a home care unit now.”
“That’s…great,” you weakly surmise. You don’t actually know if it’s great or not. There’s a lot you don’t know. Maybe it was high time to fix that.
“Wait does this mean you’ll be reassembled?!”
“No,” J-I-N shakes his head. “No, reassembling or disassembling. Home care units change very little. Just a little update and I’ll be sparkly new.”
“Perfected the perfection,” you try to joke and he chuckles weakly almost sounding surprised that someone might amuse him and not the other way around.
“Do you…” he shakes with nerves and you grow ever more astounded. He was so alive. A very peculiar android, one who couldn’t give it credit for his programming. Whatever happened that made J-I-N, he was different. Perhaps he made himself different.
“Do you need a home care android? Your recovery period is almost a year.”
“They sent me a catalogue but I haven’t gone through it yet,” you throw your head at the inside of your apartment.
“May…I apply for the job?”
You blink at his demureness.
“But I’m awful.”
“You were,” he agrees. “But you’ve got an update and besides I’m in need of employment.”
“I…” you think it over. In spite of not getting along, you still had grown at least accustomed to him. And J-I-N was far more gracious than you would have been in his situation.
“I’m okay with that. Are you?”
“Yeah,” he squeezes a small smile. “You’re not the worst human on the planet anymore.”
“Thanks,” you snort.
“Also fair warning, this update will contain nearly 68GB of various puns and jokes for the sake of breaking the ice with the patient.”
You feel a part of yourself shrivel and die with that information, still, you force out a polite -
“Looking forward to it.”
HOSEOK: “But…but what am I supposed to do with him?!” as quietly as possible, you hiss into the phone where a woman sighs at your incessant questions.
“He is a mental health android unit, treat him like an app or something.”
“He’s not an app!” you argue with some heat. “He is an android! A being! One you sent to my home without my consent.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have tried to slit your wrists open at a workplace,” she snides and drops the phone, leaving you open-mouthed at the sheer audacity before slamming the phone down into the kitchen counter.
“Your levels of adrenaline and anger are out of the norm. Should I help you to relax?” the android’s voice pops up unexpected right beside you and you scream.
The last thing you wanted after being discharged from a mental institute is to be observed. Like a zoo animal. What will it do if one does this? What will it do if one pokes it in this spot?
“No, please, it is not necessary,” you trail off, fear gripping you whole. This thing will live you. For three months, there will be a stranger, designed to hover over you like a Damocles sword. You couldn’t even feel safe in your own home when it was anxiety in the first place that wore you down so much you wanted to escape it in any way you could.
The mental health unit leans its head to the side. He looks very human, it must be the absolute prime model and somehow it’s even more disturbing. It’s a humanoid that was not human and that knowledge activates some primal terror gifted by your ancestors. You’re choking on your tongue.
“I’ll just use the bathroom,” you force out and make a run for it.
It takes hours for you to exit, shaking on the tile floor was time-consuming and finding the android unit freely moving through your space doesn’t put you at any ease.
“What are you doing?” you rasp.
He turns around, beaming wide and you shudder.
“Making dinner,” he replies cheerfully. “Your file suggested it will be one of my duties.”
In his hands, there sits a cup. It’s your favourite cup. It wasn’t passed from generations, it wasn’t a gift and it wasn’t really that expensive. It had a chip in the side and you bought it essentially from a flea market but it still is your favourite cup. One he has usurped like your peace in your own home.
“Please, don’t..don’t touch my stuff.”
The smile falls from his face and noticing your intent, scared gaze at the cup he places it down.
“But I…I have to make you dinner.”
“You don’t. I’ll do it on my own.”
He blinks, struggling to understand. It goes against his programming, while the emotional core of his does state he should instantaneously assume greater distance. He was creating unease, something he was not engineered to do and the two clashing commands were rapidly wearing down his operational core.
“I can…run you a bath. Baths are beneficiary for human beings.”
The thought of undressing in front of him, of being that vulnerable, nearly makes you gag.
“No, please, just do nothing.”
“If I do nothing, my dispatchers will think you don’t want me.”
“I don’t want you. I’m scared of you.”
His mouth despite it being an impossibility runs dry.
“You’re scared of me?” he echoes weakly.
“You’re a stranger invited into my house without my consent. Of course, I’m scared of you!”
“Right,” he buffers. “I-I…I’ll log myself off in the hallway. Will that make you feel better?”
It’s probably cruel, nevertheless, you nod. You couldn’t be around anyone and despite the opinion of general denizens, androids did count as someone.
Shoulders slumped, he dragged himself away before plopping to sit by the door and proceeding not to move. It was creepy.
At night, you hear him moving around and shivering underneath the blanket from the rampaging onslaught of paranoia, you could not relax for a single second.
Weeks pass and the mental health unit keeps an intrepid vigil to keep out of your way. You don’t even know where he is at times as he occupies no room and makes no noise but at times you almost forget he is there. He still performs some menial tasks when you’re away either being tested or taking a prescribed walk and exercise class. Your floors are too clean and when you fail to make food for yourself it magically appears, though you note that they’re not served in your dishes and neither your pots nor pans were ever used again.
Coming home late one night, you step over the threshold and find it empty and dark, abandoned almost but on the counter there sits a cupcake with a simple note attached.
“I’m very proud of you, ______________.”
Heat rushes to your eyes and your throat tightens. You can’t even recall when was the last time anyone said they’re proud of you.
“Umm…mental health android?” you call out. He didn’t even have a name you realize. He wore no badge and there was nothing in his introductory form. “Mental health android?”
No response. Perhaps, he left. You gave him no order, maybe it somehow messed with his programming so bad he left. You rifle through the apartment high and low, in the end, finding him crouched in the broom closet. It’s an awfully minuscule space, not suitable for anyone, be it an android, human or a cat but it is the only space in the entirety of your home, you did not look into. Just how long had he slept here for your convenience.
You lean down and shake him but he does not wake.
“Sir? Sir?” you shake him harder but you might as well be handling a ragdoll. “Sir? Please, wake up.”
At that, his eyes pop open and you screech from the abruptness of the motion, falling on your backside. He rushes to help you up but pulls his hand away at the last second, conflictedly squirming in the place.
“Are you okay? Are you in distress?” he questions nervously and you gather yourself off the floor.
“No, I’m just…” you sigh. “You shouldn’t sleep in the broom closet. It’s too small.”
“It was the only hiding place. I would not scare you there. You would not see me.”
Something in the innocent explanation, so purely kind-hearted, mellows your own.
“Please, use the living room.”
He nods stiffly.
“Also uhm…” unwillingly, tears pool in your eyes. “Thank you for the cupcake. Did you…make it?”
He shakes his head sadly and solemnly.
“You did not give me permission to use your things, so I bought it.”
“With what money?” as far as you knew androids couldn’t pride themselves on the biggest income.
“I work odd jobs at times,” he shyly confesses. “If I earn enough money, I can apply for citizenship and become a self-sustained android.”
“You used that money to…” you choke. “To buy me a cupcake.”
“To buy you all food and the flowers by your bedside table.”
He shrugs it off with such ease like it’s not by far one of the kindest things you’ve seen a humanoid do.
“Oh, no, don’t cry!”
Too late you’re absolute sobbing your heart out. About everything. When you were little you thought it will be such a dream. It wasn’t. It wasn’t a dream at all.
He once again reaches to hug you, probably due to his programming but holds himself back, to be respectful, however, you hug him first, not caring anymore that his skin is synthetic and his brain is made of chops. You just need someone to connect with. Any connection, any at all would be bliss and this android has shown you unbridled kindness no humans in your life would.
When you’ve cried out half the hurt, not all but a decent chunk, a steaming cup of chamomile tea, served in your favourite mug sits in front of you as the rain taps against the window. It’s easier to breathe. The android sits unsure at the edge of the sofa, uncertain what his next action should be.
“Do you have a name?” you ask, twiddling with the edge of the blanket.
“I’m a mental health care android unit 9876Q36x/3.”
“Right. Have you considered choosing a name?”
If he wanted to be a self-governed android, the idea of freedom must be constant in his mind.
“I did,” he slowly says as though it’s a secret. “Hoseok.”
“It’s a lovely name.”
He offers a gentle smile and you feel for once a bit better.
“Thank you, _______________. I like your name as well.”
© soraviii/soraviie 2022-2023
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