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Grace woke slowly. The world came to him in pulses, like waves lapping over a beach. He hadn’t seen a real beach in so long. It was comforting, as much as it was disorienting, to be floating like that, undulating with the lapse and return of his consciousness.
He took in a sharp breath, curling his fists in sheets. His eyes snapped open, and he was back on land.
This was not his bedroom. He sat up, heart racing. Flickers of memories returned to him. Of course this wasn’t his bedroom, his apartment had been set ablaze, and not by accident. Someone was trying to kill him. They nearly succeeded, too.
Grace touched his face, and the wounds smarted under their bandages.
Bandages?
He shuffled off the bed and towards the mirror hanging on the closet door. He remembered being shoved onto concrete, the road scratching up his cheek. The blood was washed off, now, and a big white bandage taped over the wound. He lifted his shirt to look at his other wounds. All cleaned and wrapped. From the general lack of pain, he was probably given some drugs, too.
That was all well and good, except that Grace couldn’t for the life of him remember who had wrapped him in said bandages and fed him said drugs.
He looked around the room. There was nothing immediately identifying. It was pretty spartan in there, at least in terms of clutter. The furniture itself seemed like it had seen better days. The carpet was brown and the wallpaper stained. There was a pungent reek of must in the air.
He reached for the doorknob, half expecting to find it locked, but the pins clicked inside, and the door creaked open.
Grace gulped. His first instinct was to call out hello? but obviously he couldn’t do that. He was a wanted man, now. His brain needed to adjust to that.
He crept out into the hall, trying to keep each step as silent as possible. The light was on in the room at the end of the hall. He tried to lean out towards the door to get a peek at it without being seen, and immediately saw a face.
“Oh. You’re awake.”
A man stood in the kitchen. He had some ingredients on the counter, like he was about to start cooking.
“Do I know you?” Grace asked. The man didn’t exactly emote at the accusatory question. Grace realized he was almost certainly a replicant, and likewise kept his expression neutral about it.
“I suppose you don’t,” the man said. “You were in and out of consciousness yesterday. You have memory loss, I take it?”
“Yeah, something like that.” Grace scratched at his cheek, then stopped himself. It hardly felt good through the bandage, anyways.
“I don’t exactly know who you are, either, but I would like to,” the man said.
Grace’s brows lifted. The man simply turned back to the counter and began opening a box.
“I was making breakfast. You can sit while I cook.”
“Um. Alright.”
Grace decided he probably wasn’t in any danger. This had to be the person who patched him up, and now he was offering to make breakfast, so all signs pointed towards a vested interest in keeping Grace alive. That was a change of pace, after the week he’d had.
As Grace sat, however, he had another uncomfortable thought. Waking up in a stranger's bed to find them making breakfast for two? This felt more like the morning after a hook-up than finding himself in a safe-house.
“So. Care to fill me in on what, exactly, happened yesterday?” Grace asked.
“You are considered a threat to human society. I don’t know why, because you are human, but you are being hunted with the same level of vigilance, by the same government bodies, who hunt replicant rebels. I intervened in an attack, and brought you here.”
“Right. And where is here, exactly?”
“I think you need to tell me who you are and why you’re such a threat, first.”
Grace stared at the man, and the man stared back.
“Alright. It’s not exactly a secret.” Grace shrugged. “Though, obviously, they want it to be.”
“They’re trying to erase you?”
“Yeah.”
The man nodded. It was a tiny gesture, yet it communicated everything. He wasn’t supposed to exist, either.
“I’m a biologist,” Grace said. “I was conducting research on replicant physiology.”
The man locked up, completely still with his hands tight around a bowl and a whisk.
“I was close to publishing a paper arguing that replicants are human, in any way that human can be biologically defined.”
Silence. Then, after a long exhale, the man returned to cooking.
“That would be problematic for the economy,” he said.
“Yeah. I know it was going to make a lot of people mad. I didn’t anticipate just how mad.”
Grace thrummed his fingers on the table.
“So do I get to know where I am now? And who you are?” he asked.
“You’re in a secure location, under the surveillance of the replicant rebellion."
“Right.”
“And my name is—you can call me K.”
“Kay? Like K-A-Y?”
“No, like the letter. Just K.”
“Oh. Well, alright then. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, K.”
He nodded, but remained focused on cooking. It seemed to be pancakes from a mix with rehydrated eggs. He mixed up a vitamin drink, too, and when it was done, brought it all to the table. Grace kept thinking he should get up and help, but the awkward silence stifled him, and he just watched K put food and utensils in front of him.
“Thanks,” he said. K nodded and took the seat across from him. Grace watched him take a few bites before starting on his own meal.
“You didn’t tell me your name,” K said after a while.
“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s Grace.”
K’s eyes flashed a little wider, but the neutral expression soon returned. He nodded and kept eating.
Grace did the same.
…
K got more wrapped up in Grace than he meant to.
Not the hits he took, helping the biologist get his research back, not the stress and pain of being back on the job. No, that he was used to. It was something else. The way Grace spoke to him, the way Grace acted around him. He treated K like an equal. Even deferred to him, when K’s judgement was superior.
He showed genuine concern when K was hurt, always offering to help patch him up. He asked him how he felt, if he was comfortable, if he needed anything. He felt bad about taking the bed, though K refused to switch and let him sleep on the couch. He let K cook for him, since he had no cooking skills by his own admission, but he took over doing dishes. He said it was only fair that he do his share of the work.
K got used to being around Grace. He got used to hearing him snoring softly in the bedroom, the sound a reminder that he was alive, and safe, and K was protecting him.
Grace made him feel useful, but of his own volition. None of it was mandatory. Everything he did for Grace was accepted like a gift, not expected. It only made him want to do more for Grace.
He wanted to do what it took to make Grace stay.
…
Grace sat on the couch, reviewing the documents spread out on the coffee table. They’d retrieved most of his research, but some of it was missing or scrambled, and he needed to fill in the gaps. He highlighted the pages that cut off and connected them to the next most relevant section. He circled the data that looked off and cross-referenced it with previous trials.
It was very consuming work. He knew K was sitting next to him, arms crossed and watching him flurry around through the pages, but he got so absorbed, he didn’t notice K drifting off until his head bobbed down and then violently back up.
Grace turned to him with a surprised smile. K scrunched his shoulders up. Grace knew by now that meant embarrassment. K’s expressions were easy to read, once he learned what to look for.
“You can take a nap if you’re tired,” Grace said. “I’ll be working on this for a while.”
“No, I’m fine.” K shook his head.
“Okay, let me rephrase. Go take a nap,” Grace said.
K opened his eyes wide. Grace was confused for a moment, and then went pale.
“Oh—no, no! Not a command! Just… ah, jeez.” Grace rubbed the back of his neck. “I was trying to use my teacher voice. I used to teach in grad school…” Grace sighed. “Sorry. Sorry. Ignore that.”
K’s shoulders visibly relaxed.
“Do you mind if I nap here?” he asked.
“Sitting up?”
“I don’t want to make you move.”
Grace frowned.
“You know you can use the bed, right? It’s still yours,” he said.
“You’re fine with that?”
“Of course I am. I’d happily switch with you whenever you want, really.” Grace put a hand on K’s arm. “Please, just get some rest.”
K nodded and got up without another word. He kept his head slightly lowered, like he was deferring to Grace. It felt off, but Grace figured he was probably just so exhausted, he was defaulting to his factory conditioning.
Grace sighed and ran a hand through his hair. K was an interesting case. For all his devotion to the rebellion, he was still quite willing to acquiesce to the needs of humans.
To Grace’s needs, at least. Maybe only Grace’s needs, actually. What did that mean?
Grace shook his head. He needed to focus.
He knew his work was important, but these weeks living with K only impressed upon him the gravity of the situation. Replicants weren’t just second class citizens, they were commodities. Fear and isolation was baked into their existence. Compliance was a lie upheld by force.
If the world saw what Grace saw, the cruelty of it all would finally be visible, and maybe something would change.
Grace’s glasses migrated from his nose down to his chin over the course of an hour, then spent a while in his hair, before hanging down off one ear. When they finally clattered into his lap, he leaned back into the couch and ran his hands over his face. He sighed deep and heavy, a hint of a groan at the end.
The bedroom door opened.
Grace cleared his throat and collected himself. K was so quiet when he walked. By the time Grace put his glasses back on, he was already in the living room.
“Hey. Good nap?” Grace asked.
K nodded.
“Good. I made some progress, but the data’s in worse condition than I thought.” Grace chuckled unconvincingly. K nodded again, stepping closer.
“You can take a break,” he said. “You’ve worked hard.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Grace rubbed a hand behind his neck. K was so serious when he said it, like he really thought Grace was the next Einstein.
K sat on the couch next to Grace. He was suddenly very close, the warmth of his body radiating against Grace’s skin.
“Here. Let me help.” K reached out, his limbs held awkwardly, and put his hands on Grace’s shoulders.
“What?” Grace laughed out the question, but then K was rubbing his shoulders, digging his thumbs into the tense muscles at the back of his neck, and he made a sound somewhere between a yelp and a groan.
“Oh wow, okay!” He turned to give K better access to his back. “You’re really good at tha-ha-at.” His voice grew choppy under the decisive pressure of K’s hands. He closed his eyes and leaned into the feeling, embarrassing little moans escaping when K unwound a tight knot.
Grace felt warm all over. He desperately needed the massage, yes, but he hadn’t been touched by someone else so intentionally in a long, long time. Something unfurled inside him, something he’d kept wound tight for years. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and when K was done with him, he wiped them away on the back of his hand.
“Wow. Thank you,” he said. “How did you know that was just what I needed?”
K smiled. It was so small, it almost didn’t look like a smile at all, but Grace knew.
“I could tell. The way you carry yourself,” he said.
“That’s, um… wow.” Grace laughed, fidgeting with his glasses in his lap.
K looked down at his hands. Grace stopped. K reached out towards his glasses. Grace opened his palms to let him take them. K lifted them carefully, folded each arm open, then pushed them back onto Grace’s face. Grace closed his eyes and let K slide them over his ears and onto his nose.
When he opened his eyes, K was right in front of him. They managed a brief moment of eye-contact, then K’s gaze fell to Grace’s lips. Electricity buzzed through his whole body. His hands clenched on his lap. It felt unreal, the thought that K wanted him, too.
He licked his lips. K leaned in.
“Oh,” Grace said aloud, a breath pushed out as he parted his lips.
K took his cheek so gently, so reverently, and pressed the softest kiss against his mouth. Grace shivered. He didn’t know what to do. No one had ever treated him this way. His stomach twisted and pulled, like he was on a roller coaster, but he couldn’t move a muscle at all.
“Is that…” K gulped. He pulled back, looking unsure.
“Yes!” Grace suddenly sprung into action, arms wrapping themselves around K’s shoulders. “Yes, sorry, yes! It’s good! I like it! I like—you!”
K visibly relaxed.
“Thought so,” he said. Grace was red all over in an instant.
“What, uh, what gave it away?” He forced a laugh. K didn’t answer, instead kissing him again. Grace made a noise of surprise, but focused himself, trying to participate this time. He turned his head and opened his mouth, kissing K the way he’d once been taught by an ex. He was terribly out of practice, but it seemed to be working.
K wrapped his arms around Grace’s waist and tugged him closer. Grace reciprocated with the squeeze of his arms around K’s shoulders. His limbs buzzed, like his blood was full of fizzing bubbles.
Everything was happening so fast. His heart began to pound. What if K wanted more than this? As much as this was a dream come true, he knew it could turn to a nightmare quickly if he wasn’t careful.
K started to lean forward, his hands steadying Grace’s back as he inevitably had to lean backwards. Grace’s hands fisted at the back of K’s shirt. The cold wash of fear won out over the warm daze he’d been in, but he couldn’t get himself to speak. He didn’t want to ruin this, whatever it was. He didn’t want to see what disappointment looked like on K’s face.
His back hit the couch. K’s mouth broke away, and his hands trailed down over Grace’s hips. Grace froze up again, just watching as K kissed his stomach where his shirt rode up and stroked his thighs. Only when two fingers found the zipper of his jeans did Grace finally speak.
“No,” he said, curt and small, half-stuck in his throat.
K went completely still. Grace’s hands floated in the air somewhere over his head. He opened and closed his fists, certain now that he’d ruined everything.
K looked up.
“No?”
Genuine curiosity.
Grace let out a breath.
“I, um. Look, kissing is great, and I really liked the massage! And I like you, obviously, um, a lot, but I’m not… I don’t… sex isn’t really my thing?” Grace squeaked. “I’m sorry.”
K looked down at Grace’s crotch, then back up at his face.
“You don’t want to have sex with me?”
Grace gulped, steadying himself to say it again.
“No.” Firmer this time. The full weight behind it.
K mostly looked surprised, but somewhere in the shift of his posture as he sat up, Grace saw relief, too.
“You’re not upset?” Grace asked.
K shook his head.
“Oh. That’s not usually how this goes.” Grace slid his legs out from under K to sit up, too.
“What do you mean?” K asked.
“I mean, uh. Usually when someone likes me, they’re pretty disappointed that I don’t want to sleep with them.”
K nodded slowly.
“Is there a reason why?” he asked.
“A reason why they’re upset?”
“Why you don’t want to have sex.”
“Oh! Of course. Right.” Grace laughed at himself. “Well, so, I don’t really feel attracted to people, sexually. I like hugging and kissing and stuff, and I like people’s personalities and feeling close to people—so, romantic stuff—but I don’t have the sexual feelings that are supposed to go along with that. It’s called being asexual.”
K’s eyes opened wider.
“There are other people… human people… who feel that way?” he said.
“Well, yeah. It’s not super common, but yeah.” Grace nodded.
“I thought…” K cut off. His jaw went tight.
“Wait. K. Are you also…?” Grace searched the man’s face. He didn’t want to put words in his mouth, but the answer was starting to crystallize already.
K moved his head, just the faintest nod.
“But then why?” Grace furrowed his brow. “Just because you thought I wanted to?”
Another nod. Clearer this time.
“That’s what I’m supposed to do. That’s how this works. I thought.”
“Oh, no.” Grace’s heart sank. He reached for K’s hands, and K lifted them a little, letting him hold them. “No, it’s okay. You don’t have to do that. You never have to do that. Not if you don’t want to.”
Grace felt like a hypocrite saying it. He’d struggled to internalize that message for years, and he knew what he was the whole time.
K’s chin fell towards his chest. He took in a shuddering breath, and Grace realized he was crying.
“K?” he asked, rubbing the man’s knuckles with his thumbs.
K shook his head.
“I didn’t believe you. This whole time I didn't believe you.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“I couldn’t be human. Humans don’t feel this way.” A breath sucked between teeth. A wet sob. “But you do.”
Grace’s heart shattered for K. He wrapped his arms tight around K’s shoulders and held him close. K hid his head under Grace's chin and cried. Grace held him, fighting back tears of his own.
“I used to think that about myself, too,” Grace said after a while. “That I was missing something that made me less human. But it’s not true. And it’s not true for you, either.”
K didn’t say anything, but he squeezed Grace a little tighter.
“I’m… really glad we met,” Grace whispered. K made a small, affirmative noise. Grace smiled, though his eyes still blurred with tears.
All the data, all the research. None of it really mattered. This was all the proof he needed. No one had ever felt more human to him.