(I think he’s slowly starting to grow on me……)

---

Another failed day. Nobody complimented him. Didn’t even glance at him. He took so long to get ready, and nobody even bat an eye.

Citra flops down on his bed in the futuristic apartment, grasping at his pillow and digging his fingers into the stuffed fabric. Did anyone truly care about him? Maybe Luvionix did, but even she seemed distant today.

He screamed into the pillow, his systems starting to hiccup. His battery flickered erratically. He didn’t care anymore. Excess oil drips down his faceplate, mimicking something close to tears. His systems stuttered.

His mechanical— But so real, so raw-sounding sobs— Felt like thunder in the deathly quiet apartment. His phone was the only other thing that dare make a sound—Small mechanical hums. He glances at it, tears still staining his face, like he’s hoping for another notification.

He only get’s silence in return.