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Sometimes Link forgets to breathe.
“Forgets” is probably the wrong word. He fails to activate the subroutine that would move his chest in the approximation of human breath. His processing capacity is tied up with other things.
It’s a known issue with androids of his model, he tells Rhett. Nothing to worry about.
Rhett worries anyway.
He’s not sure how to broach the subject with Link, though. It’s not like it’s common for a human and an android to be in situations where the human would become acutely aware of the android’s lack of breathing.
It’s not like it’s common for a human to fall asleep with his head on the android’s chest. Not like it’s common to wake up in the middle of the night, feeling nothing beneath his ear, freezing in panic for a moment before remembering what Link is.
Who he is.
Rhett loves him, but he worries anyway.
“Is something bothering you, Rhett?” Link asks one night.
It’s been one of those days where Rhett can hardly believe his luck. He’s always been a loner, always kept to himself despite the best attempts of friends and family. Before Link came along, he’d made his peace with the fact that he was going to die alone. But now…
Now he had a reason to think otherwise.
“You could’ve picked anyone,” Rhett murmurs into the pillow.
Link sighs. It’s a purely human affectation he’s adopted since living with Rhett; he never did anything like that when they first started dating.
“We’ve talked about this before, Rhett.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know why I bought your drinks that night?”
“Yeah.” He can still picture it if he tries hard enough. The image of a dark-haired man waggling his fingers at Rhett from across the crowded bar, his teeth bared in a grin that awakens something deep within.
Link rolls onto his side, rests one hand on Rhett’s bare side. His skin is slightly too firm to be human. “I want to hear you say it, Rhett.”
“You said I caught your eye because I seemed content to watch the people around me.”
“Yes.” Link’s caressing him now, fingers moving across his skin in slow circles. “You were different. That’s why I picked you. And you know something?”
“What?”
“I am one hundred percent sure that I made the right decision.”
He’s dead serious. Rhett feels his cheeks burn.
“I’m… I’m glad you did,” he whispers.
Link smiles, all soft and sweet in the dark. When he leans in for a kiss, Rhett reaches up to run his fingers through his hair.
It’s different from what he imagined, different than his wildest dreams. But even though Link sometimes doesn’t allocate enough memory to maintain his breathing subroutine or scares Rhett by going completely silent because he’s doing a system reboot… even though it’s not perfect, Rhett’s glad things worked out this way.
But still, on the nights when Rhett wakes up to complete silence, to the briefest thought that Link somehow died in his sleep, he worries anyway.