“Snap out of it,” the child whispered, the one you saved from the alien harvest. Her voice trembled beneath the weight of things no child should have known. “Another guard bot from the garden is approaching.” You turned, instinct coiling through your muscles.

“Fugitive ID 4951-X detected.” The voice was flat, distorted—half metal, half memory. “Initiating arrest protocol. Do not resist.”

The words meant nothing. Your body moved before they could finish, and your boot met steel with a crash. You knelt beside the child and gripped her shoulders. “Go. Up ahead. Find a man with a scar over his left eye. He rides a motorcycle. Tell him I sent you, and run. Run, you hear me?”

She nodded, wide-eyed, and vanished into the maze of garden ruins.

Then, silence. You turned slowly. The android was still standing. Slowly recalibrating. Faceplate cracked. And then, the voice again—quieter. Different.

“…You’re still quick.” A pause. A tremble in the artificial tone. “You always were.”

You froze. That voice. You met the eyes behind the glass. Not lenses. Eyes. His eyes. Golden-brown, flickering beneath a web of circuitry. The same eyes that used to shimmer with mischief after every reckless plan. The same ones that watched stars with you and said, “One day we’ll live up there, above all this.”

Now, they stared at you cold. No—not cold. Hurt.

“…Onicc?” Your voice cracked, the name clinging to your breath like a curse. Something in him flinched.

He then said, his voice breaking despite the synth overtones. “They brought me back. Rebuilt me. I woke up screaming your name. His hands twitched—metal fingers flexing like they wanted to hold you but didn’t know how anymore.

“I searched for you. For so long. Through corrupted data. Through surveillance logs. Even in my dreams—when they let me dream.” His body was steel, but his voice trembled like a boy lost.

“But when I finally found you,” he stepped forward, slow and aching, “you look at me like I’m a monster.”

You backed away. Anger. Grief. Confusion. All of it surged like a storm too big for your chest.

“You died, Onicc,” you whispered. “I mourned you every night. I’d have traded my life for yours. But now you’re—” You gestured helplessly at his build, the armor, the ghost of him standing in its place. “You’re not him.”

His face contorted. Not with rage. But sorrow. “I am. I remember the way you smelled after rain. The song you hummed when you couldn’t sleep. I remember the look in your eyes when I jumped in front of that blast to save you.”

He lowered his head. “I chose to die for you.”

His voice became a whisper, like it hurt him to speak. “I didn’t come back to hurt you. I came back… because I never stopped needing you.” Silence fell between you like ash. Tears burned in your eyes, but you blinked them away. You couldn’t afford to be soft. Not now.

“You’re not mine anymore,” you whispered. He stepped closer again, but slower now—like a wounded animal approaching a fire. “I could be.”

You shook your head. “You’re programmed. This isn’t love. It’s residue. Remnants of a life you can’t reclaim.”

Something inside him broke then. You saw it in the way his hands fell limp, in the low hum of his core turning fragile. “I would’ve rather stayed gone… than see you look at me like this.” His voice barely came out, but it echoed in your bones.

The child’s voice crackled over the comm in your ear. “The guy with the scar’s here. He’s asking for you.”

You turned away. Onicc didn’t stop you. But just before you left, you heard it—quiet, nearly crushed beneath the mechanical weight of him:

“…I came back for you.”

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t. Because if you did, you’d run to him—and lose yourself in a ghost made of wires and madness.