Work Text:
The office is unusually neat, the books are actually on the bookshelves and the documents are sorted out. In the middle of the room is a scientist with short brown hair and glasses. He akwardly stand with his hands behind his back
"12... Wifies,"
The scientist whispers, the smooth and soft stem of a flower digs itself deeper into his hands
"I have something to tell you..."
He continues, his voice goes quiter as he does. The man keeps his eyes on the floor when he locks in on the armor stand in from of him.
There's a picture of 1202, the scientist's creation, clone, experiment, or whatever he calls him. 1202 doesn't have a name other than that until now
"This shouldn't be that hard,"
The scientist lets out a quiet sigh, he brings the flower to his face as he brushes its delicate petals. He has practice the confession a hundred times now.
The scientist's love is weird.
But it's now or never, clones aren't immortal.
The scientist walks back to his desk, there are many buttons on it and he presses the yellow one
"#1202, please come to my office,"