For Margaret

Another

I need that book.

I’m going to get it.

____________________

I left AI after slurping up what was left of my cup noodles, leaving him with a rather disappointed look on his beautiful features—which made me hate myself even more.

But I had to get that book.

It was the answer to all my questions about Father and AI.

It was the only way I could figure out the strange droid that no one ever loved.

It was the key to his heart.

His non-existent heart that I swore, I felt beating. 

____________________

I climbed the winding stone steps connecting the dungeons and the kitchen, and stopped in my tracks when I heard the screech of a peacock that had no feathers.

“ZI? ZI! ZI!” There was a bare pause between each shriek of my dear stepmother. I mean one of my stepmothers.

“Mother, I told you. She’s useless,” I hear the ugly voice of a brat complaining, and the faint sound of her opening her fan. “What was Father thinking? Letting us use such an old droid.”

Suddenly, Father’s room seemed like miles and miles out of my reach, a thousand flight of steps that stood between me and the key to AI’s heart.

“Now dear,” I hear the twisted smile in stepmother’s voice as she tried to calm the volatile monkey she calls her daughter. “Don’t be hasty. The Lord is dead, and this is why we have the mansion, and the fortunes.”

She laughed. “And you’re still sweating over a mere droid!”

“Mother, why don’t you get Mary a new droid? It’s not as if we can’t afford the best,” Another haughty voice piped up, which I assumed was Jane.

I snorted unconsciously.   

There was a short pause, followed by the firm clicking of heels against the marble floor.

“Spoiling your children again, I see? Dear Miranda,” I could almost hear the smirk in stepmother Lucinda’s voice, and my head ached at the thought of her mocking tone. “You should appreciate Silas’ first creation after all. How clever of him to give such a prized possession to a mere girl like…Mary.”

There was anger in Miranda’s voice. “How dare you address the Lord with such familiarity? Mary is the oldest daughter of the Lynches. Compared to your daughter, she is far better—“

“Oh excuses, excuses,” Lucinda’s amusement was apparent in her voice. “You’re living in the past, Miranda. The oldest is no longer the best.”

Ha. They must be forgetting something.

Mary might be the oldest daughter, but I am the heir.

Just shut up already.

Fucking bitches.

This is what I put up with every day—the constant bickering of my stepmothers and stepsisters, and the exchange of insults they scrape, cut, skin, pierce, but never kill. It’s just slow torture they want, and slow torture they take pride in.

The fact that they revel in each other’s mistakes and flaws disgust me to no end—and for a second, I almost chose to turn back into Father’s lab and return empty handed.

I almost gave up on the book.

I was far too lazy to face my stepmothers and sisters and even open my mouth to say anything. I was too lazy to even open my eyes and look at their ugly faces.

“Suoh?”

What the f—

“Margaret—shit you scared the hell outta’ me.” I ran my fingers through my hair, a habit of distress. “How did you know I was there?” 

My youngest sister giggled, hiding her mouth behind elegant fingers. “I saw your shadow on the wall. What were you doing? Were you in the dungeons?”

“No.”

“What? But you came from those stairs. Mother Lucinda says that its off-limits—aren’t you afraid? What if she finds out? Am I supposed to keep this a secret?”

I brushed past her, sauntering towards the three refrigerators that we had. “Whatever you want.”

“Aw…” Margaret whined sadly, “I wanna go downstairs too…”

Pulling out a carton of milk from the side, I turned around to glance at my youngest stepsister. I didn’t particularly dislike her, in fact, if I had to choose, she was probably the nicest out of the twenty…twenty-something that I had.

The only thing that irked me about her was that she asked a whole lot of questions.

I sighed. “Another time.”

Margaret’s eyes lit up. “Ohmygosh really?? When? Is there a secret passageway down there? How about treasures? Wait—don’t tell me! Ohmygosh I can’t wait.”

I rolled my eyes, letting slip a tiny smile before I downed the milk and tossed it into the bin. I was about to proceed to the Great Room when Margaret practically lunged for my arm, dragging my back into the kitchen.

“Wait! Not the Great Room, there’s a cat fight going on over there!” She declared, holding me back.

“Tsk…”

“I know, I know…you’re annoyed right? Every time Mom tries to intervene they drag her into it too. Ugh. Sucks to be us.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“When you grow up, you’ll learn that this isn’t something that sucks at all. If this little thing sucks to you, your life will just be a living hell,” I commented lightly, seeing Margaret’s face scrunch up as she thought about what I said.

Oh wait, my life is already a living hell.

But now, it’s as if someone has come to free me from it.

And ironically, that ‘someone’ is far from any of those angel in books and legends.

Angels had wings—he had wires.

Angels are perfection—he’s far from that.

Angels had hearts—droids had brains.

_______________________

I returned to the lab empty handed after Margaret decided to go back to her room—having waited for almost half an hour for the cat fight to end.

Keying in the password and hearing the click of the last lock, I wrenched open the metal door, and to my surprise, caught AI with his arms loaded with a mountain on gadgets that barely covered his face.

“What…are you doing?”

Upon hearing my voice, the eyes that held the sky snapped towards mine, focusing.

I could see the cogs turn in AI’s synthetic mind, before he carefully set the gadgets on top of the work bench, and bowed.

“Master, you’re back,” When straightened up again, there was a gentle flame in his eyes.

He looked so fragile, so soft, and so brittle— like human.

I was about to open my mouth, to break that expression of his and tell him that I wasn’t the one he so longed for—

But something clicked in me, and I sealed my lips shut.

My chest twisted painfully at the thought of what I was going to do next;

To test out my theory—to see the truth.

Go on. Ask him.

I opened my mouth—only to close it once again.

Go on. What are you so afraid of?

Yeah.

Why was I so afraid?

What was this fear eating away at my heart?

I didn’t know.

Perhaps it was because I didn’t want to believe what was termed as truth.

Did AI love my father?

Was it…even possible?

_____________________

“Master? Is something wrong?” AI’s voice sounded really far. “I…I apologize for my intrusion—I was just—“

“No. Nothing’s wrong AI.”

The droid looked relieved. He adjusted the slim metal frame on the bridge of his nose with a finger.

“Ah, I see. My mistake—would you like something to drink? I can go to the kitchen—“

“No!” I cut suddenly, and AI practically jumped.

“No—just, I mean—don’t go out of this room, you understand me?” I corrected.

“Yes Master,” AI replied softly, inclining his head once again.

There was a silence, and for a moment, it was as if AI was afraid of asking another question—of saying the wrong thing.

Did droids ever do that?

I decided to take it slow.

“What did I say about calling me Master?”

There was a flash of surprise on AI’s flawless features as his head snapped up.

“Ah—my apologies, Master—I mean…”

“Silas,” He bowed deeply.

The thing in my chest cracked, and for some reason—I didn’t know whether I should be happy that AI listened to me for the first time—or that I should be sad it wasn’t exactly me that he was listening to.

I sighed.

“Remember that.”

AI smiled softly, and I swore I saw the tips of his ears turn red. “I will, Silas.”

__________________

Running a hand through my hair, I watched as AI resumed the activity of tidying the laboratory, gathering stray books and gadgets to clear the concrete floor, and winding up the wires that tripped any passer-by.

I got bored after a while, wondering whether I should just sleep on the couch nearby, or give breaking into Father’s room another go.

Dropping onto the leather sofa positioned at the far end of the room, I continued to watch the flawless movements of AI.

You might be thinking: What a creep.

Yes. Yes, I’m a creep. I believe every other fifteen-year-old hormonal teenaged boy would love to stare at the person of their dreams forever and ever. Carve the way the walk, the way their hands move, the way they bend to pick up something on the floor; even the way they lower their gaze and their lashes just come into sight.

Was it possible that AI’s spectacles actually amplified the length of his lashes?

They seem almost long enough to touch the glass at every blink.

How can his thighs be so slim?

Why is his skin so perfectly pale?

How would it look like when he was embarrassed?

Would it blush? Or stay the same?

…

Yeap. Hormonal teenager.

“AI, come here,” I signaled from the couch.  

The droid looked up from his sorting of books, and set them down on the shelf before making his way to the leather sofa.

He stopped several meters away.

“Silas?” AI prompted gently, a small smile on his face as he avoided eye contact.

His hands were clasped in the front, as if nervous.

“Come closer.”

He didn’t question, didn’t even seem fazed by the strange order—merely took a step closer.

“Will this be alright?”

His gaze remained lowered—a sign of submission for droids.

“Closer,” I tested, slightly aggravated at the fact that he would do so only for my Father.

AI promptly shuffled closer.

His legs were almost touching my knees.

He fidgeted on the spot—right thumb stroking the other as his hands remained clasped.

“Silas?”

A strip of his hair fell forward to dangle beautifully.

I could see his lashes so clearly—every time he blinked.

“Master? I-Is everything alright?”

My gaze roamed his frame, carving every image into my heart—not my mind.

I couldn’t think straight.

The white button-up shirt now seemed translucent up close.

“Would you like me to undress, Master?” I heard the words—but they did not register. AI had said them so softly, so gently, so earnestly.

So easily.

I felt the horror creep into my mind as I realized what AI was to my Father—and what my Father was to AI.

And for a moment, I wished I hadn’t fallen in love.

______________________

A/N: Hi my dears :) How did you like the chapter? I managed to finish it. It’s been half-done for almost a month >_< Thank you for your patience, and if you hadn’t realized, this isn’t going to be that happy of a story ;__; Save yourself before it’s too late! D:

By the way, a short explanation of droids/androids/robots in this book: They look human. There isn’t a difference between the appearance of a normal human and a droid. The inner system of a droid has a stomach, a pair of lungs, etc, has every bone that you have—but it’s all synthetic. There is no blood in an android’s vein. What flows in an android is their life source. If they run on electricity, they have fibers for electro transmission. If they run on glucose, glucose flows through their veins. Droids have a ‘system controller’ aka a brain. However, unlike the brain, the system controller is in the chest of the android, and also acts as a pump for the fluid that runs through their veins ^^

A-And uh, one of my wonderful readers (Seika) asked about u-um, whether AI has a r-real ding dong *covers face* well, according to this information, well technically he has one. Uwa. I mean, AI has everything a real human has.

So sorry for the extra-long message ><”

-Cuppiecake.