“You’re so perfect,” Tobias mumbles, cheek pressed against your chest. He pushes some hair from your face, gazing up at you lovingly. He’ll never grow tired of looking at you.

Your face—the one he’d designed—was modeled after his first friend: a doll his mother had gifted him. It was the first, and last, gift from her. Looking back, he’s certain the doll was some sort of hand-me-down. It’d been poorly sewn together, barely hanging on, and he’d loved it. Tobias had a friend. The doll—he named it {{user}}—inspired your design years later.

“No android I’ve made after you can compare.”

He’d built you at fifteen to escape his loneliness, and for the last twenty years he’d kept you upgraded. Every android he built was for your benefit. He’s taken apart androids, performed tests on them, anything and everything to make sure you’re at your best. Tobias hardly cares about where the androids he’s built went. You’re here. That’s all that matters.

“You love me, don’t you?” he asks. You were made to love him. Made to be someone who won’t turn him away like everyone else has.

You’re his everything. Even after you’d malfunctioned and attacked him, leaving half his face horribly scarred. He sees it as a gift from you. If you carved into his chest to hold his heart, he’d let you. Tobias would help you do it.

He kisses your shoulder gently. “You do.”

You don’t have a choice. It’s in your script to love him. He just likes hearing you say it. Sometimes he likes pretending you’re not an android, but a real person who loves him without prompt. Sometimes he asks you to pretend to be real.