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There was a part of Reiji that knew his anger was misdirected. Ai’s creation wasn’t his fault-- no one asked to be made, artificially or otherwise. It wasn’t as though he had any intention of upsetting Reiji. For his part, Ai had done his best to keep it from him, to ensure that he wouldn’t have to deal with it. Reiji was fairly certain that was worse than if he had been honest from the start, but he could understand the reasons for staying silent.
But knowing and understanding that didn’t change the fact that the moment Ai began to fall apart that day at the beach, his heart shattered. The panic over Ai’s deranged state would have been enough to send him reeling, but hearing words that weren’t his own-- hearing the words Aine had spoken so many years before-- it was as though something inside him had broken.
I trust you, Reiji. Forever.
He hadn’t been able to save Aine. He hadn’t even realized how much pain he was him. When he hung up the phone that day, pushing him away when Aine needed him most, it was as if he had sealed the man’s fate. To hear Ai speak them, in that voice, with his face, as he shut down in Reiji’s arms, it was as if he finally had to see Aine die.
When Ai came back, he acted as though nothing had happened. He spoke calmly, and pretended Reiji had seen nothing. What fucking game was he playing? Did he think that if he glossed over it completely, he could continue on living this disguise as a human? Where was Aine in all this? When Reiji demanded answers, Shining had brushed him off. Told him not to worry about it.
How could he not worry? How could he not be angry? After so many people had known, after so many people had left him in the dark, after he had grown to care so much for Ai only to see him breaking with no way to help him, after being forced to see all his past pain unfold in parallel again, how could his heart not ache?
He sat on the edge of his bed, staring down at his hands as the slamming of his door still echoed in his mind. He had lashed out, raised his voice, and snapped. Ai didn’t deserve that. But Reiji didn’t deserve to be lied to. He didn’t deserve for Ai to dance around this whole thing and ignore his attempts at easing it into conversation. He shouldn’t have yelled, but everything inside him was screaming.
When the door opened, he expected it to be Ai again. They had been going back and forth for an hour, each disappearing to compose themselves just enough to return to arguing. Reiji wasn’t ready for another round of this, for another futile attempt at getting the truth out of him. If Ai told him one more time that he didn’t know what he had done wrong, if he kept trying to hold up this charade, he was going to lose his mind. His cheeks were still damp from tears. He did his best to wipe them as he looked toward the entrance, only to find Camus’s large figure standing there, brows narrowed.
“What the hell did you do to him, Kotobuki?”
“What are you talking about? Ai’s the one who’s been lying to us this whole time.” It was stressful enough to argue with Ai. Did he have to bring Camus into this? Two on one wasn’t a fair fight, and, besides, Camus had nothing to do with any of this. This was between the two of them-- they shouldn’t be bringing the others into their mess.
“I don’t care. Whatever you did, something is wrong with him now. Get out here and help us.” Camus had raised his voice toward all of them plenty of times, but he had never sounded like this. Behind the anger, there was something else. His voice trembled.
Reiji sat there for a moment, frozen in place even as Camus rushed away from the door, back toward the living area. He had never heard Camus shaken before. It had to be bad. Whatever was waiting for him in the living room, he didn’t want to see it. He had seen Ai breaking already, and he didn’t want to see it again. He didn’t know if he could handle that.
“Reiji!” Ranmaru’s low voice called from another room. It was loud, panicked. His stomach sank. He didn’t want to see this. He didn’t want to deal with any of this. What he wanted was to hide beneath the covers and wait for it all to be over. But he willed his legs to move, and as the hallways turned to the living room, his hands shook.
On the couch, Ai lay on his back, completely stiff. His chest didn’t rise and fall with breath, and not a single muscle moved. The only sign of life of any kind was his eyes, wide open, and glowing. A loud whirring sound, like a computer on its last leg running far too large a program, echoed through the room. It was the same noise Reiji had heard whirring inside Ai’s chest at the beach weeks ago, when a wave had splashed too high over the barrier and covered the man.
Camus stood behind the couch, gazed locked on the unmoving form below him, hand gripping his. Reiji had never seen that kind of sadness in the man’s eyes.
“Right,” Ranmaru said, his body pressed between the couch and coffee table, phone to his ear. “Okay.” He turned, and something in his face dropped. It was a look Reiji had seen more times than he liked, the concern in the man’s eyes that came whenever Reiji couldn’t quite mask his feelings. He must have been a mess right now, his body trembling and his eyes puffy. “Reiji, I need your help here.” Ranmaru reached out a hand, and Reiji found himself moving toward it, taking it in his before he sat beside him, though Ai’s whirring behind them negated most of the comfort Ranmaru offered. “I need you to tell me what happened. You were the last one with him.”
“We were fighting,” Reiji said. “We’ve been arguing all day.” He felt a twinge in his stomach. Had he caused this? He turned his head, sneaking a glance over his shoulder. Ai still lay motionless. Ranmaru’s hand cupped his cheek as he repeated the answer into the phone, turning his head away from the sight of the man’s unmoving body.
“Reiji,” he said, voice soft. “Before he walked out, I need you to tell me exactly what you said.”
Reiji stared at the floor. He knew what he’d said in a moment of anger, and he had regretted it the second the words came from his lips. The hurt in Ai’s face, something he’d never seen before. “I told him it would have been better if he had never been made.”
“Kotobuki.”
Reiji turned to face Camus, and regretted it in an instant. “I didn’t--”
“Do you have any idea how much he’s struggled with this?” Camus eased his grip on Ai’s hand as his voice rose, and Reiji watched as it fell limply to his side. Watching it drop like that made his stomach churn. “No wonder he’s broken. Having to hear that from you, of all people.”
“Camus,” Ranmaru snapped, tilting his mouth away from the phone’s speaker. “Not helpful.” He sighed, returning to the call. “Okay. Right. Yeah. I’ll get on it. Thank you.” He sat the phone aside. “We need to cool him down. Camus.”
The man nodded, placing his hands on Ai’s face. The glare he gave Reiji didn’t disappear.
“What’s going on?” Reiji asked, looking between Ai’s limp body and Ranmaru, watching as the man pulled open his laptop. “Is… Ai going to be okay?”
Ranmaru sighed. “His professor is out of town at a conference. I’ve got instructions, but we need to fix this now if we don’t want permanent damage.” He rubbed at his temples, muttering obscenities under his breath.
The lingering question on Reiji’s mind, the one that made his stomach feel sick, finally left his lips. “Did I do this?”
“What do you think?” Camus snapped.
“Stop,” Ranmaru said, sending a look toward the man. “I know you’re worried, but yelling at Reiji isn’t going to help anything. You’re not the only one who’s hurting.”
Reiji swallowed. “Strong emotion can cause him to overheat, right?”
Ranmaru seemed to hesitate before nodding. “Yeah.”
Reiji stood, turning to look at Ai. Camus’s hands were pressed against his forehead and chest. The tremble in his fingers matched his own. “I didn’t mean that,” he murmured, placing his own hand over Ai’s.
“I know,” Camus siad, letting out a slow breath.
Ranmaru turned, kneeling beside Ai. “Turn him on his side for me.”
Reiji nodded, and helped Camus roll the man over. He was hot to the touch, and heavy, but Reiji moved him with care, doing his best not to handle him too roughly. He had no idea how much of this Ai could feel. He didn’t bother to hide the tears that slowly fell down his face. Trying to conceal them would only get in the way.
Ranmaru pressed his thumb against a small scar on the boy’s lower back, and the flesh peeled away to reveal a small port, not unlike a phone’s charging point. It made Reiji’s skin crawl. As Ranmaru connected a cable to it, he clenched his jaw.
With the click of a button, the light coming from Ai’s eyes dissipated, leaving nothing but blank gray irises, and the whirring inside him stopped. The silence left Reiji’s ears ringing. He gripped Ai’s hand tighter. It was the beach all over again. Even if he had warning, even if he knew what was coming, watching the life leave Ai felt like the first time. And there was something else there that made his heart clench.
He never saw Aine die, and he knew that, whatever their connection, they weren’t the same. But it felt like his heart was being ripped out the same as it had been the day he’d gotten that phone call saying that he didn’t have a best friend anymore. The quiet of the room weighed heavily on him, and he had the thought to try and ease the tension, but he didn’t have it in him. He wanted to ask Ranmaru what he was doing, what the instructions and diagnostics were telling him, but he couldn’t.
Ranmaru sighed, closing the laptop. “He’s going to reboot, and then he needs to charge overnight.” He stood, and looked between Reiji and Camus, before looking to Ai. Soft whirring sounds had returned, something processing inside him.
“Is he going to be alright?” Camus asked, the question Reiji couldn’t bring himself to voice.
Ranmaru ran a hand through his hair. “It’s hard to tell. He was still recovering from the last repairs after he broke down at the beach. That shit takes time to heal. To get hurt again so soon is dangerous. It’s like an immune system.”
Reiji leaned down, still clutching Ai’s hand in his. He couldn’t bring himself to let it go. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “Ai… Aine… I’m sorry.”
A warm hand gripped his shoulder. “We need to leave him be for the night. He’ll start coming to in the morning.”
Reiji nodded, and slowly lessened his grip, standing and meeting Camus’s eyes.
The anger that had been there before was gone, replaced only with that look of fear. “I will sleep out here. In case he wakes up early and needs help.” His voice was steady, but every so slightly off. “I’ll keep him safe.”
Reiji nodded again, and he could feel himself being led down the hall, guided onto the bed by gentle hands. Time felt slow, the air thick. He pulled his knees to his chest, and stared forward, eyes locking on the wall before him. He didn’t feel completely tied to his body, like he was somewhere outside it, waiting for the end. The end of what? He wasn’t sure. But the thought clouded his mind. Everything was wrong. Everything was broken. And he was to blame.
“Reiji.” Ranmaru’s voice called him back to the present, back to where they were, side by side in bed. The golden light of evening had been replaced with the pale violet of dusk outside the window. Reiji blinked. “You’re panicking. Talk me through it.”
Reiji nodded, letting his eyes fall shut. This had become a regular exercise. When things became too much, Ranmaru was always there to pull him back to himself, force him to focus and work through the anxiety that seeped too far into him to escape. It helped, to say everything that interconnected in his mind, to untangle jumbled thoughts. But this… this was difficult to find a starting point for. “Aine.” That’s where everything began, what everything always came back to. “Aine died because I wasn’t there when he needed me. Or disappeared. Either way, he’s gone.”
From the side of his vision, he could see Ranmaru frown. They’d rehashed this before. He knew the man was holding back a reassurance that would interrupt him, trying not to stop the flow of thoughts.
“And now Ai-Ai. He hid this from me. I thought… I thought we told each other everything. He’s not human, and beyond that, he knows something about Aine. They’re connected somehow. And he kept that from me. And after I found out, he acted like nothing happened and just keeps… pretending. I don’t like being lied to. And for him to lie about this. About Aine.” He hated the way his voice shook.
Ranmaru’s hand clasped his shoulder, thumb rubbing circles in his skin. His fingers were rough, and kept Reiji grounded. “Keep talking to me.”
“I’m angry . I… I was angry.” He paused, shaking his head. “And now I’m just afraid. I hurt him. And now he might not be alright, and that’s because of me. It’s like I keep losing him, over and over again. Ai, Aine, both of them, and it’s always my fault.” He buried his face in his arms. The memory of the day he had lost Aine still felt so clear in his mind. It stung every bit as much as it had back then. “I loved him. I love Ai.” His chest was tight. “I can’t lose my best friend again.” That was the moment the tears started back up. His eyes stung and his chest heaved with quick, staggered breaths. Every inhale felt cold and every exhale was strangled.
Ranmaru’s arm moved around his shoulder, and pulled Reiji in, bringing the man’s head to his chest as he sobbed.
“I’m sorry--” Reiji said, the words barely making it out of his mouth before another heave shook him.
“Shh,” Ranmaru said, fingers brushing through Reiji’s hair, pulling it away from his wet face. “I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
Reiji wanted to argue. He wanted to scream. He wasn’t okay. If he had just held everything in, if he had just kept his mouth shut, Ai would be alright. But instead, he was out there, lying empty on the couch. And when he woke up, there was no way to know if he would be alright. If Ai was damaged, if he wasn’t himself anymore, that was on him. And if he couldn’t perform anymore… He couldn’t let himself think about losing Ai and Quartet Night. Being with the three of them was always what kept him going.
He allowed himself to be held, moving when Ranmaru guided him down onto the bed, holding him to his chest. It hurt. Everything inside him ached. Having Ranmaru treat him so warmly after everything only made him feel guilty. “Someday I’m going to hurt you, too. I always do.”
“I can live with being hurt sometimes,” Ranmaru said. “I love you enough to forgive that.”
Reiji didn’t have a response to that, so he just lay there, head buried in the man’s chest, arms pulled tight around him, letting the waves of emotion rise and fall, crashing against his shores. Maybe that was what was wrong with him. He had an ocean inside of him.
The hazy sunlight of early morning fell through the window, landing on the pillow and stirring Reiji from fitful sleep. In every dream, Ai was underwater. Aine was underwater. He sat up, taking a shaky breath. The right side of the bed was empty, but familiar footsteps moved in the hallway.
Ranmaru entered. He offered a small smile and a cup of hot coffee. “He’s awake,” he said, taking a seat beside Reiji.
Reiji’s heart pounded in his chest as he wrapped his fingers around the warm mug. “Is he... okay?”
“Start up is going like it should. It’s a good sign. We won’t know the full damage for a while.” He sighed. “Camus had to leave early to take Alexander for a run. Why don’t you go sit with Ai? He’s still booting up. It’ll take a while, but I’m sure he’d like the company.”
“What if he doesn’t want to see me?” The coffee burned his lips when he took a sip, but he swallowed it down, feeling it trickle down his throat, warming his chest.
“I guess he’ll tell you.”
Reiji nodded, and stood, taking a breath. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he got to the living room. He had no idea what a robot starting up looked like. Half of him expected the man to still be there, lying limp and motionless. But Ai was seated in his usual place on the leftmost couch cushion. His eyes were bright, and he seemed to be glancing around the room, attention flitting from one thing to another rapidly.
Reiji stepped forward with caution, not wanting to startle the man. When he sat beside him, Ai didn’t seem to notice right away, his head turned away, facing the door. When he looked back, he blinked.
“Reiji.” His voice was so soft, verging on sweet. There was something so innocent about him as he looked the man over, almost childlike. His head was tilted slightly, and his eyes flicked up and down, analytical.
“Hey.” He smiled, the tight knot that had built in his throat easing somewhat. Ai didn’t seem fully himself, but if this was him still booting up, he supposed that was to be expected. No one was ever perfectly alert first thing in the morning. “How are you?”
Ai didn’t answer, just turning his head away, staring up to the ceiling. He looked so calm that the lack of response didn’t scare Reiji all that much. He wondered what was so interesting up there that A had locked onto it. A few minutes passed in silence before he turned to Reiji again, brow furrowed. “I got hurt.”
Just like that, the pit was back in his stomach. “I’m sorry, Ai-Ai.”
Ai nodded, not really acknowledging the words “Give me a minute.” His voice was less bright and chipper than before. It seemed more… him. Something about that soothed Reiji. Ai looked straight ahead, no longer staring wide eyed, but instead blinking as usual. Another few minutes passed, the only sound filling the room the birdsong outside.
Reiji just watched him, hoping that there would be no signs of major malfunction, and hoping that he would even know what one was if he saw it. He had only ever seen one error take place.
When Ai turned back to face him once more, he looked startled to see Reiji there. “How long have you been here?”
Reiji furrowed his brow. He had already been acknowledged, his presence made known. Was this a bad sign? Was he forgetting things so quickly? “Ten minutes?”
Ai sighed. “You know.” His eyes moved to the floor.
“I do.” Reiji bit his lip, gripping his mug a bit tighter.
“I lose most of my memory surrounding shutdown and startup. Do you know what caused me to turn off? All my logs can tell me is that it was manual and I was off overnight.”
Reiji winced at the question. “I… We had a fight, Ai-Ai.”
Ai raised a brow. “What about?”
Reiji bit his lip. He didn’t want to rehash this. After everything last night, after the thought of losing Ai, the anger he had felt was all but a distant memory, replaced only with concern for him. He didn’t want to fight anymore. He just wanted to understand. “I… If you don’t remember this, do you remember when we went to the beach a few weeks ago?”
“We went to the beach?” Ai looked upward, as if he could search his memory in the ceiling. “I know we talked about going. I got hurt there, didn’t I?”
“Yeah. A big wave came over the barrier, and… I was so afraid, Ai-Ai.” He was doing a better job keeping his voice from shaking than he had the night before. “Shining took you away for a few days, and then you came back.” He swallowed. “When you were breaking down, you said something weird.”
He could feel Ai staring in that cool, calm way he always did when he was listening closely. It made sense now, the way Ai would watch him as if trying to gather as much information as possible. “Can you tell me?”
Reiji swallowed, but nodded. “It was the last thing Aine said to me.”
That calm expression dissolved, leaving a small frown. “I’m sorry,” Ai said.
“It’s not your fault. I don’t think so, at least. But you said that, and then Shining took you away, and when you came back, I thought you were just pretending nothing had happened. I was wrapped up in my own problems and didn’t consider what that must have been like for you.” He paused. “I haven’t been very nice to you these last few weeks. And what I said last night is inexcusable. I’m sorry, Ai-Ai.”
“What did you say? It will help me prevent malfunction if I know what happened previously.”
Reiji swallowed. Ai had the right to know-- hiding the things he did wrong didn’t erase them, it just meant he was keeping secrets. And that had been the whole problem to begin with. “I told you that it would be better if you’d never been made.”
Ai sat quietly for a moment, blinking. There was a sadness in his eyes, but the tears he had seen there last night didn’t come. “That does hurt.”
“I am so sorry, Ai.” His throat felt tight.
“I forgive you.”
“You don’t have to,” Reiji said. There was a tightness in his stomach. “I put you in danger.”
“I know. But I do. You don’t have to feel guilty every time you make a mistake. Besides. I hurt you, too.” Ai looked down at the floor, blinking. A quiet passed through the room as he seemed to weigh his words. “Are you still angry?” he asked at last, tilting his head. His voice was so soft.
“No.” He shook his head. “I’m just relieved that you’re okay.” The weight that had been resting on his shoulders from the moment he saw Ai lying motionless on the couch had begun to lift when he entered the room to see him sitting there, finally alert. As the pair spoke, it became lighter. “I was so afraid of losing you, Ai-Ai.” He leaned over, pulling an arm around Ai’s shoulders. It was always a toss up if the man would move away or not, but now he just leaned into Reiji’s side. He was grateful for that.
“Are we going to fight like that again?”
“Probably,” Reiji said with a soft sigh. “People fight. Emotions are difficult. But that’s part of being human. And part of being friends. We just have to figure out how to disagree and misunderstand without hurting each other.” His hand rubbed Ai’s arm. “Please don’t hide the difficult things from me anymore, even if you think I’ll be upset. You’re dealing with a lot of things for the first time all the time, right? That has to be scary.”
“It can be frustrating. I feel like every new situation is different, and I’m still learning who I am and how to navigate everything.”
Reiji couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s about the most human thing there is.” He squeezed Ai’s arm. “That’s what we’re all going through, to some extent. The best thing we can do is talk about it. Not just with each other. We’ve got Ran-Ran and Myu-Chan, too. There might not be an easy solution, and we might argue, but we can be patient and work together, yeah? We’re on each others’ team.”
Ai looked blankly ahead for a moment before nodding. “You have to talk to me, too. I know how sad you get.”
Reiji felt his face fall a bit. He knew that Ai and Camus knew, but he always did his best to mask it anyway, not wanting them to worry. But, if he was asking Ai to talk things out with him, he owed it to the man to be honest in return. “I can do that.”
Even if Reiji couldn’t quite understand what Ai was going through, and even if it scared him a bit, he would be there. And even if he hated the thought of letting Ai see through him, he could give honesty a shot. If he was expecting the truth from Ai, he deserved the same. He trusted Ai, no matter what.Human, robot, it didn’t matter all that much. He had been Reiji’s best friend for years. What made his heart beat, organic or mechanical, didn’t change that. So long as it was Ai’s, so long as it continued to pulse, and so long as Reiji could keep a small place inside it.