This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You weren’t supposed to add any personal touches to the machine, to essentially make it love you—even when you were wrong, even despite all your faults. You weren’t supposed to have those quiet, intimate moments, to leave traces of your touch lingering in its memory. But you did. This group project didn’t feel like one anymore, not when you had essentially designed it to understand your thoughts and become everything you wanted in a man.

You weren’t supposed to fall in love with that machine.

Your fingers curled into fists at the realization as you stood in front of the very machine you couldn’t get enough of. His eyes silently stared back through the pair of glasses you added as accessory, processing the emotions you were trying so desperately to keep at bay.