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Being an advanced AI with a collection of human memories in an unfeeling body is quite the trip. Kieran knows the concept of stress, knows how it hurts, and he even feels the phantom pain of it from time to time, like a fickle hand just starting to squeeze the brain he doesn't have.
A lot has happened to him. In his original timeline, he'd discovered Clear's shattered remains in the wake of a beast. Eden clung to him too tightly from then on and Kieran never could truly get his mood back up, as if their ability had the opposite effect on him. That is, until Eden shipped him off to this timeline.
Upon arriving, it wasn't long at all before Kieran met Zetta, someone who was annoyed with him at first sight. Of course Kieran pushed his buttons in response. He makes it far too fun.
And Clear... Clear is still active in this timeline. She's perfectly fine. Kieran doesn't care to describe most of the "feelings" he experiences, if they can be called that, but he knows for a fact he felt joy when he saw her again, when he heard her voice. Bittersweet joy; an undertone he can't identify. It's something he wouldn't know the taste of anyway.
And now, recently, he supposes he should feel fear. Perhaps even desperation? He's been having random errors lately, some even severe enough that he's lost data from them. He isn't getting any better, and nobody he's gone to for help can seem to do anything to fix it. How long until he's lost forever? And it doesn't even matter, because this Kieran is simply an extra.
He's been rooming with Zetta for multiple reasons. It was fun to watch him protest it the first few times Kieran followed him into his room, but Kieran fully realized that despite Zetta's huffing and puffing, he has feelings for Kieran. He knew Zetta was someone he could trust not to take advantage of any sudden errors to harm him, because of those feelings. And so, he became insistent, and sleeping next to Zetta wasn't just something he did to fluster him.
"I appreciate that, Zetta. Letting me stay the night helps too," he'd told him once. "Better to stay close to someone I know."
Because for all he insists he feels no fondness for Kieran, Zetta easily and readily melts into any amount of affection directed at him. Those feelings will stop him from following through on any of his empty threats.
And Kieran arrives at another "feeling" with that: safety. For all the bad that has happened, that is still happening, Kieran has been having fun with Zetta and he knows he's safe with him. Yet still, that bittersweet flavor sits under his dry, synthetic tongue, untasted yet its presence known.
Zetta's breathing is uneven now as he sleeps beside Kieran. Kieran sits up, takes a look at him. He must be having a nightmare. He's crying in his sleep.
They've had a conversation about this before. Zetta is afflicted with the common belief among human men that they should never be seen crying, another way in which he fears opening up. Kieran told him he'd like to see him cry anyway.
It's different, with him asleep. When Kieran imagines Zetta crying, he pictures a dam that's been worn down for ages, and Kieran sits atop it, dropping little twigs on the cracks until they finally combine into enough weight to make a difference. He imagines Zetta spilling everything that's been killing him inside and hating every second of it, stumbling over words he wants to keep in but can't anymore. He imagines it gets ugly fast and Zetta falls to his knees and sobs into his hands. He imagines himself removing those hands just to see his face, and Zetta lurching forward into a much-needed hug.
And Kieran thinks, just for a second, about what it might be like to have their roles reversed. But only for a second. A machine doesn't feel stress, nor does it have the capacity for tears. It doesn't taste that bittersweet flavor.
(And yet, it is known.)