He harboured an infatuation towards her, she knew. She didn’t know if she returned those feelings. Her programming suggested she could love, but she didn’t know how to recognise the feeling. Anything she read spoke of butterflies in one’s stomach, a rapid heartbeat, a feeling of electricity crackling on body contact. Biological things. She could admit she was fond of him in a way she wasn’t fond of anyone else. She recognized that she was willing to overlook his faults in a way she shouldn’t.
—Dragon, Worm

 

Junhoe’s work day always starts the same.

The alarm on his phone blares at seven-thirty a.m. sharp. Junhoe rolls onto his side, reaching out an arm to blindly shut if off, then he buries his head back into his pillow as he seriously contemplates not showing up to work, just like he does every other morning. But then Junhoe thinks about the forty-eight-hour shifts he’ll have to pull to clear the unavoidable backlog, about squinting at the lines of code on his monitor screen at four in the morning, cursing whenever he hears an eerie-sounding beep coming from one of the computer terminals or labs and promptly succumbs to his fate of turning up to work by nine.

Junhoe stumbles out of bed, takes a quick shower, grabs his things and is out the door in twenty minutes flat, making the short trek to the subway station near his apartment complex. He frowns when his stomach makes a relatively loud grumbling noise, taking a quick glance at his watch and deciding that he probably has enough time to make a quick stop at the FamilyMart and pick up something to eat.

Junhoe grabs a random packet of bbang from the shelf before joining the queue, taking the time to check through his messages and emails on his phone. It’s only when he hears a few dissatisfied grumbles and complaints coming from the front of the line that he lifts his head to see what’s going on: the cashier seems to either be slow or constantly messing up, because the smartly-dressed businesswoman in front of Junhoe rolls her eyes and leaves the queue, while the businessman currently being served only picks up his purchases and walks off after he glares pointedly at the cashier.

Junhoe nods back at the cashier when he greets him, watching closely as he checks out his bbang and asks for 2,000 won, please, movements stiff and voice flat. Junhoe hands him a 5,000 won bill, the cashier turns to the cash register, and Junhoe catches sight of the black marking on the side of his neck.

SYH-67

Junhoe sighs, watching the way the cashier twitches a little and stutters as he hands Junhoe his bbang and his change before leaving the store. Ripping open the packaging and stuffing the bbang into his mouth as he hurries down the steps and barely makes it onto the next subway, Junhoe finally begins his forty-minute-long commute to his workplace.

“You’re late,” is the first thing Junhoe hears after he taps his access card against the sensor and punches in the six-digit passcode for the glass door on his floor.

Junhoe glares at Hanbin, who doesn’t even bother looking up at him from where he’s shuffling some papers around behind the receptionist’s counter. “By like four minutes,” Junhoe retorts, walking into the coatroom to hang up his black coat before slipping into his pristine blue lab coat. “And besides,” Junhoe continues, stepping back out and walking into the main working area instead. “It’s technically Yunhyeong-hyung’s fault that I’m late.”

Yunhyeong sighs, putting down the battery he had been turning around in his hands to shoot Junhoe a look. “And how is that remotely possible when I’ve been here since seven a.m.?”

“SYH-67,” Junhoe says simply, settling into his chair and powering up his monitors. “Your bot was glitching at the FamilyMart in Pangyo Station and holding up the entire line; you’re welcome.”

Yunhyeong groans, burying his face in his hands. Junhoe feels his pain: Yunhyeong’s probably going to have to clock in extra hours to repair his defective robot, test it again, then send it back to the FamilyMart it’s currently deployed to or worse, find a similar yet new place for it to continue carrying out its set functions. But since Junhoe is an who is perpetually pissed off at any time before lunch break, he says, “Don’t worry, hyung, I’m sure a few thirty-six-hour shifts won’t be so bad,” with a sunny smile on his face.

Yunhyeong smiles back. “Don’t forget there’s a high chance you were the software engineer for this robot. So I’m looking forward to the thirty-six-hour shifts with you, Junhoe-yah.”

The smile slips from Junhoe’s face, expression darkening as he flips Yunhyeong the finger. The hardware design engineer rolls his eyes, and Junhoe’s just about to snap something back at him when he’s interrupted by a cheery voice.

“Such joy in the lab at nine-ten in the morning,” Donghyuk says by way of greeting, completely undeterred by Yunhyeong’s sullen mood and the anger radiating off of Junhoe in waves. Donghyuk leans against Junhoe’s desk, crossing his lithe legs at the ankle and sliding a paper cup of coffee onto the table. Junhoe stares at the drink, then looks up at Donghyuk.

“Good morning, Junhoe,” Donghyuk greets pleasantly.

“Whatever you want, my answer is no,” Junhoe deadpans.

Donghyuk’s smile wavers, and if Junhoe were anyone else he’d probably be hard-pressed to deny the fatal combination of Donghyuk with his light brown bangs and lips pushed into a pout, but Junhoe is not anyone else, and he’s known Donghyuk long enough to know that beneath the bubbly, beaming exterior lies a manipulative and disarming little demon.

Junhoe reaching for the coffee seems to snap Donghyuk back to attention, because the brown-haired software engineer swiftly holds the paper cup out of Junhoe’s reach, grinning down at him. “Free coffee for two weeks if you listen to what I have to say. And it’s fully work-related, mind you, so technically you’re obligated to hear me out.”

Junhoe glares at Donghyuk long and hard, but it’s Donghyuk, who just so happens to be the one person in the lab completely unaffected by a grumpy, seething Junhoe. And also, free coffee. “Fine,” Junhoe spits, glancing at one of his monitor screens. “You have ten minutes. I still have to finish developing and testing the software for Yunhyeong-hyung’s new service robot.”

Donghyuk sets the paper cup back onto Junhoe’s desk, and when Junhoe turns to look up at his friend, Donghyuk looks genuinely excited. “I - I wrote a new programme, Junhoe,” Donghyuk breathes, and for a moment Junhoe is back in university, and a black-haired Donghyuk is looking at him with the same excited spark in his eyes as he shakes Junhoe’s arm and tells him that he’s going to graduate as valedictorian. “To create the first robot capable of teaching itself how to feel, just by observing.”

Junhoe’s eyes widen, because this is Big News: while robots have been a commonality for a while now, all of these robots have been purely functional so far - industrial robots, service robots, educational robots, even autonomous robots. Pre-existing software and programmes allow robots to be independent, intelligent; they allow robots to act like humans, but robots still can’t feel like humans do.

Until now, apparently.

“You - ” Junhoe sputters, looking at the proud grin on Donghyuk’s face. “You’re serious, right? You actually managed to write the programme? Don’t with me, Kim Donghyuk, or I swear - ”

“Managed to convince him yet?”

Junhoe’s expression goes flat almost immediately, glaring at Bobby who only grins broadly at him, perches on the edge of his desk next to Donghyuk and takes a long sip of Junhoe’s coffee. Nine in the ing morning, Junhoe thinks viciously. Bobby more than pulls his weight in the lab as their creative and aesthetics director, but still, he’s ridiculously energetic. Junhoe thinks of Bobby the same way he thinks of the sun - too bright, too warm, here too quickly every morning, and something he’d like damn well as far away from him as possible.

Junhoe ignores Bobby, refocuses his attention back on Donghyuk and arches a brow. “Bobby-hyung and I have been spending the past few months developing this programme and designing the robot that would contain it,” Donghyuk continues explaining. “And now I need your help to beta-test it for me.”

Junhoe’s immediate response is to flat-out reject Donghyuk. “No,” he says firmly, remembering how most of his previous experiences beta-testing either Donghyuk’s or his own software programmes had led to many sleepless nights, migraines and accidents. “Also, you , why can’t you beta-test it yourself?”

“You know I have to research about and then develop the software for the new series of collaborative robots, right? My hands are full. Also, your apartment is bigger - ”

“And there’s free coffee,” Bobby chimes in, taking another long sip from what was meant to be Junhoe’s americano.

Junhoe pinches his nose bridge for a long moment. It’s way too early to be sustaining any type of conversation that requires Junhoe to reply with words instead of his preferred vague, grunting sounds, and Junhoe is also acutely aware that if he doesn’t agree, Donghyuk will literally spend the rest of the day badgering him till he says yes, anyway.

“Free coffee for a month, treat me to drinks sometime in the near future, keep Bobby out of my way for all hours of the day and you have yourself a deal,” Junhoe says to Donghyuk.

Bobby opens his mouth to complain, but Donghyuk clamps a hand over his lips. “Free coffee for two weeks.”

“Four.”

“Three.”

“Jesus, Donghyuk. It’s not even as if you’re going to be the one buying the coffee. We all know that’s going to be Chanwoo.”

“Fine,” Donghyuk hisses. He pushes himself off the desk, stepping on Junhoe’s foot for good measure. Junhoe yelps. “So much for six years of friendship.”

“You're welcome, ungrateful !” Junhoe barks after his friend, but all Junhoe gets in return is Bobby sliding off his desk, loping off with a wide grin on his face and the rest of Junhoe’s coffee in his hand.

Nine-thirty a.m.: the time of the morning when Bobby has found a sense of purpose for the day (and is correspondingly excited, or more so than usual), when the sun is getting brighter by the minute, and when Junhoe wishes with every fibre of his being that he never got out of bed this morning.

 

 

Two days later, Junhoe has just finished installing his software into Yunhyeong’s new line of service robots when he feels someone peering over his shoulder.

“Does it work?” Donghyuk asks, watching as Junhoe’s fingers fly over the keyboard as he keys in one last line of code.

“Of course it’ll work, it’s my software,” Junhoe replies flatly, saving his programme before shutting down the monitor. Donghyuk rolls his eyes, waiting for Junhoe to get up before walking down the corridor together. Donghyuk taps his access card against the sensor for WORKING LAB 3, pushing open the glass door after the familiar-sounding beep is heard and letting Junhoe step in before him.

Bobby turns at their arrival, a grin stretching across his face. By default, Junhoe scowls. “You ready to turn him on?”

Him, Junhoe thinks idly, then shrugs, lifting one hand to push his bangs out of his eyes just as Bobby moves aside.

The first thing Junhoe notices about this humanoid robot is how tiny it is, the top of its head barely clearing Junhoe’s shoulder. Bobby has also decided to give this robot a head of bronze-coloured, synthetic hair, bangs falling across its forehead and into its still-shut eyes. The robot is clad in a simple navy blue sweater and a pair of black jeans, and if Junhoe didn’t know any better, he would probably say the robot looked soft, almost.

“Did you intend for this robot to be a sixteen-year-old kid?” Junhoe asks, looking from Bobby to Donghyuk.

Donghyuk winces a little. “I actually programmed him to be three years older than us?”

“Twenty-six - ” Junhoe chokes, then turns on Bobby instead. “Why did you make him so short?”

Bobby regards the robot fondly. “Project Tiny,” Bobby says, chuckling. “I intended the name as a joke for “this is a little side project I have”, which is what Donghyuk told me when I first asked him about the new software he was designing - ”

“And then the joke went a little too far, because the next time I checked up on Bobby-hyung, he was designing a damn short robot,” Donghyuk finishes, shooting Bobby a look, who just shrugs.

Junhoe slides a finger under the robot’s thin wrist, lifting its limp arm for a moment before setting it back down again. The robot’s synthetic skin is soft but cold to the touch.

“I put the power button at the back of his right hip,” Bobby says, and Junhoe circles his arm loosely around the robot, slips a finger under his navy blue sweater, then pushes the cold metallic button once.

There's the soft hum of the machinery warming up, followed by the robot reciting South Korea Robotics Laboratory in an automated, emotionless voice, and then briefly running through a list of its specs. Junhoe turns to shoot Donghyuk a mildly-impressed look when he hears the size of the robot’s hard drive, mainly for maintaining and updating the artificial intelligence programme. Donghyuk’s answering grin is proud.

The robot’s eyes open, looking straight ahead. A brief pause, and then the gentle whir of the central processing unit.

“Input user credentials, please.”

“Koo Junhoe,” Junhoe replies.

“Processing voice recognition,” the robot says, and after a moment it’s like the robot seems to focus its gaze, looking right at Junhoe instead of giving the wall behind him a blank, mechanical stare. “Processing visual recognition,” the robot says again, and Junhoe stands still as the robot stares at him intently for a few seconds, its visual sensors adjusting to its new owner so that its programme would be able to recognise Junhoe from now on. Junhoe uses the time to take in the robot’s eyes: single-lidded, almond-shaped, pupils black and irises dark brown.

“Koo Junhoe, confirmed,” the robot says, and then it blinks twice, its features relaxing, and its lips curve up into the hints of a small, polite smile. “Hello, Junhoe-ssi.”

“Just Junhoe is fine,” Junhoe says.

The robot nods once. “Understood.”

“So,” Junhoe says after a second of silence. “What should I call you?”

“That is for you to decide,” the robot replies.

Junhoe glances at the left side of the robot’s neck. KDH-27. Junhoe frowns. Somehow, he doesn’t feel like calling this robot by a series of letters and numbers.

“How about Jinhwan?” Donghyuk voices from behind them, looking up from where he’s been keying in some observations into one of the monitors in the room. “I actually intended to call him that, because it follows your initials, Junhoe.”

Jinhwan, Junhoe thinks, turning his gaze back to the robot in front of him. The robot waits patiently, looking up at Junhoe.

“Okay,” Junhoe says finally. “Jinhwan.”

“Jinhwan,” the robot repeats quietly, as though it were testing out how the name would sound like in its own voice. Then the robot smiles, a little wider this time, just enough to cause its eyes to crinkle slightly at the edges. Junhoe can see the identical proud grins on Bobby’s and Donghyuk’s faces from the corner of his eye. “Jinhwan, confirmed,” the robot says, louder this time.

“And I think we’re done here,” Donghyuk says, and Junhoe hears the sound of the monitor shutting down and a USB being ejected. “Thanks for agreeing to do this, Junhoe-yah. Just bring him back after a few weeks so I can run some tests on the software.”

Junhoe grunts noncommittally, walking to the glass door and pressing the exit button before holding it open. He turns to see whether Jinhwan is following him, and realises that the robot is only two steps behind.

“There’re usually more people in the lab,” Junhoe says, just for the sake of saying something as he watches Jinhwan’s eyes rove over the dark, empty area. “It’s just because it’s past office hours now, and I guess nobody had to pull an extended shift - hang on, let me grab my things.”

Junhoe grabs his messenger bag from his desk, then moves to the coatroom to trade his blue lab coat for his own black one. When he steps back out, Jinhwan is waiting for him patiently, at the exact same spot.

The journey back to Junhoe’s apartment is quiet and uneventful, the silence not uncomfortable but just a little bit awkward. The only time they exchange words is when they arrive at Yangjae Station to transfer lines, and Jinhwan lightly taps Junhoe on the arm to inform him nicely that Junhoe, if you would you like to catch the next subway, then we might have to walk to the platform a little faster. Apart from that, though, Junhoe busies himself with his phone for a majority of the journey back home, occasionally glancing over at Jinhwan to see that the robot seems perfectly content with just watching the city go by.

“Well, this is it,” Junhoe says a little while later when they arrive at his apartment. Junhoe lets Jinhwan step in before him, locking the front door and watching the robot’s gaze focus a little as its visual recognition sensors absorb the layout of the apartment. Junhoe’s job at the lab pays well, so his apartment is considerably comfortable.

“Do you live alone, Junhoe?” Jinhwan asks once he’s done taking in the place.

“Yeah,” Junhoe replies. “Why do you ask?”

“I notice there are four rooms down the hall,” Jinhwan answers, then pauses. “I apologise if I should not have asked that.”

“No, it’s fine,” Junhoe assures the robot. “One room is my bedroom, another is my study, the smallest door leads to the bathroom and the last room is unoccupied, like a guest room.”

“I see,” Jinhwan replies, looking around again. Junhoe regards him for a moment, then clears his throat.

“I’m going to… take a shower, then probably head to bed,” Junhoe says, finding it a little weird that he has to explain his actions to someone else, now, after having lived alone for so long.

Jinhwan nods. “That sounds like a wise choice. It is getting late.”

It’s barely eleven p.m., Junhoe wants to say, but then decides it’s probably not worth it. “Feel free to look around the apartment, I guess? Familiarise yourself with the space, or something.”

Jinhwan nods again. “Understood.”

When Junhoe emerges from his shower a short while later, he finds Jinhwan in the kitchen, staring into one of his cabinets. The robot turns to face him. “Based on nutrition facts, I do not think eating this much ramyun is particularly healthy, Junhoe.”

Junhoe feels his face begin to heat up, moving forward to shut the cabinet. “I don’t eat it all the time,” he grumbles. “In fact, I’m at the lab so much that I rarely eat at home.”

Jinhwan nods in understanding. “I suppose that would explain the state of your refrigerator. Kimchi and soju cannot possibly make for a balanced diet.”

Junhoe sputters for a moment, then sighs in resignation. “You know what? I’m going to bed,” he says finally, pushing a hand through his still-damp hair. “Can you handle your own recharging needs?”

“Yes, I can,” Jinhwan replies, and Junhoe nods.

“All right then. Let me just set up the charging station for you. Is the living room okay?” Junhoe asks, moving to fetch Jinhwan’s charging wire that he had taken home from the lab.

“That is fine, thank you.”

Junhoe pushes the plug into the socket, leaves the orange cord on the floor, then gets to his feet. He opens his mouth for a second, but ends up closing it again. What was he intending to say, really?

“Good night, Junhoe.”

Junhoe startles a little, but Jinhwan just looks at him politely. “Yeah,” Junhoe clears his throat. “Night.”

And Junhoe doesn’t know if he’s just imagining it, but as Jinhwan turns away from him, Junhoe swears he sees the robot’s lips quirk up in the hints of an amused smile, pulled just high enough to reveal a bit of his teeth.

 

 

When Junhoe’s alarm blares at seven-thirty the next morning, the first thing that hits him is the scent of food cooking in his kitchen.

Junhoe jerks awake, wondering who the decided to break into his apartment, because food is almost never being cooked in his home, least of all on a weekday morning. But then he trips out of his bedroom - eyes half-open and black hair a rightful mess atop his head - and is greeted by the sight of Jinhwan in the kitchen, currently cooking something on the stove.

Jinhwan turns his head at the sound of Junhoe’s entrance and a pleasant smile curls at the edges of his lips, his eyes curving up into slight crescents. Junhoe blinks at the sight. “Good morning, Junhoe,” the robot greets politely.

“Mornin’,” Junhoe mumbles back, voice a little hoarse from sleep and gaze still slightly unfocused. “What… are you doing?”

The question seems to catch the robot off-guard. “I decided to prepare some breakfast for you,” Jinhwan responds, then pauses a little uncertainly. “I apologise if I should have asked before using your kitchen - ”

“No, really, it’s fine,” Junhoe cuts in, and honestly, it’s more than just fine: Junhoe thinks the last time someone made breakfast for him was when his mother came over to check up on him when he had first moved into the apartment, and that was about a year ago. So as he watches Jinhwan turn off the stove and slide the tamagoyaki from the pan to a clean plate, his heart feels strangely warm. “Thank you,” Junhoe remembers to add, touched.

Another small smile from Jinhwan. “You are welcome.”

Junhoe heads into the bathroom to brush his teeth before digging into the food, and he moans appreciatively after the first few bites. Jinhwan laughs a little at his reaction, and it’s Junhoe’s first time hearing the sound: soft, tinkling and slightly amused.

(Junhoe decides it’s a very nice laugh.)

“I am glad you like the food, Junhoe,” Jinhwan comments, and Junhoe wonders idly if the robot intended for that statement to sound teasing.

“Trust me, this is so much better than the crappy bread varieties I’ve been picking up from FamilyMart for the past year,” Junhoe responds, swallowing a mouthful of the tamagoyaki. “I’m surprised you managed to make anything at all considering I have, like, nothing in my fridge.”

Jinhwan laughs again, a short sound but a little louder this time as he starts to clean the kitchen counter. Junhoe finishes his food quickly, then moves to get ready for work. He’s just grabbed his coat and is about to leave the apartment when he turns around to face Jinhwan.

“I hope you won’t be too bored,” Junhoe says, slightly hesitant. “And don’t open the door for anyone,” he adds as an afterthought.

“Understood,” Jinhwan replies, and then a small smile curls at the edges of his lips. “Have a good day at work, Junhoe.”

The robot’s voice sounds just a little too mechanical to pass off as human, but it’s still soft, kind of warm.

For the first time in a long while, Junhoe leaves his apartment with a pleasant feeling blooming in his chest.

 

 

KDH-27
LOG ENTRY > KOO JUNHOE #01
TIME 22:54

Verified that Jinhwan can cook, clean and perform basic human tasks - no major bugs detected.

 

 

On Saturday, Junhoe only rolls out of bed when it’s well-past noon.

Jinhwan is sitting on the windowsill in the living room when Junhoe finally stumbles down the hall, and the robot turns immediately at the sound of Junhoe’s footsteps.

“Good afternoon, Junhoe,” Jinhwan greets, and his lips twitch slightly in the hints of an amused smile. Junhoe is seriously beginning to wonder if he’s really that humorous of a person, or if Donghyuk just designed this robot specifically to laugh at him. “It is a relief to see that you are finally awake.”

Junhoe feels his cheeks begin to heat up traitorously, so he frowns to hide his slight embarrassment. “I sleep in during the weekends because sleep is a distant concept for me every other day of the week,” he grumbles.

Junhoe doesn’t know if it’s just because his eyes are crusty from sleep, but it’s like Jinhwan’s smile softens into something that Junhoe can only describe as slightly fond. “You must be hungry,” Jinhwan says instead, getting up and starting for the kitchen. “I will make you something to eat.”

Junhoe is about to fall face-first onto the couch and settle in for a quick nap while Jinhwan cooks, but the image of the robot looking out the glass windows just now just makes Junhoe think. “Hey,” Junhoe says, and Jinhwan stops walking, turning around to face him. “How about we walk around the area instead, today?”

Jinhwan blinks. “If that is what you would like to do.”

Truth be told, Junhoe has never been much of an outdoor person: if he had it his way, he would spend all his weekends lying in bed, only getting up when he can no longer deny his hunger or stand the smell of his own breath. But he’s been beta-testing Jinhwan for a few days, now, and a part of him feels bad for leaving the robot cooped up in the apartment all the time, because Junhoe simply doesn’t have the time for anything else besides work.

So Junhoe just shrugs, carding a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he answers. “It'll be a good way to test your programme, too. See how fast you familiarise yourself with the area and all.”

Jinhwan nods. “Understood.”

And that’s how Junhoe finds himself leaving his apartment complex a little while later, dressed in a white sweater and a worn pair of black jeans as he brings Jinhwan around the neighbourhood. They’re silent for the first few minutes, and that’s when Junhoe finally realises that apart from the little exchanges they have before Junhoe leaves for work in the morning and after he returns at night, he and Jinhwan have never actually held a sustained conversation.

“There is something bothering you.”

Junhoe startles, glancing down at the robot who’s looking up at him with a knowing look in his eye. “I was programmed to detect changes in your mood by sensing things like your facial expressions, your heart rate, your breathing rate,” Jinhwan explains, and then his lips curve up into that same smile from just now, the one that Junhoe swears seems almost fond. It makes Junhoe’s chest tighten, somewhat. “Your brows keep furrowing, Junhoe - you have been thinking about something very hard.”

ing nerd Donghyuk programming such a perceptive robot, Junhoe curses in his mind. But it’s only half-scathing, though, and Junhoe swallows a little uncomfortably, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “It’s nothing, really,” Junhoe begins, wetting his dry lips with his tongue. “I guess I just realised that we haven’t had the chance to actually… talk? And considering how I’m supposed to be beta-testing your programme, and you’re kind of staying in my apartment - I mean - I guess we should probably…”

Junhoe trails off awkwardly, because god - his thoughts sounds so much more stupid out loud.

But then Jinhwan lets out a soft laugh, and when Junhoe looks down at the robot, his eyes are crinkled slightly at the edges, and for the first time, his lips are pulled high enough to reveal his synthetic teeth, small and white and even.

Junhoe swallows down the sudden lump in his throat. He’s cute, a voice in his head supplies softly.

“I apologise for laughing, Junhoe, but yes,” Jinhwan says, and he’s still got a small smile on his face. “I would like to talk to you more, too.”

Junhoe blinks, then coughs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he leads them into the neighbourhood park. There’s the sound of children yelling, dogs barking and ladies laughing; the leaves on the trees rustle occasionally in the wind and the sun hangs high in the azure sky. Junhoe watches as Jinhwan tilts his face up towards the sky, his eyes slipping shut and his lips quirking up a little at the edges.

“This is really nice, Junhoe,” Jinhwan says after a moment, looking over at him. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

It’s just a park, Junhoe thinks, but doesn’t say. He’s just about to open his mouth when the robot speaks again.

“Would it be okay if I asked you to tell me more about yourself?”

Junhoe nods as they resume walking, mulling over what he should say so he doesn’t sound completely boring. “I was born and raised in Seoul,” he begins. “I have an older sister. I did relatively well in school, but I didn’t really have that many friends - I guess I never truly mastered the art of interacting with other people.” The corners of Jinhwan’s lips twitch at this, and even Junhoe cracks one of his typical half-smirks. “I majored in software engineering in university, got an internship at the lab in my last year, and basically sold my soul to the place since,” he continues, and he’s only half-joking. “Oh, and I’m twenty-three this year. Donghyuk programmed you to be three years older than us, though, so I think I should… be calling you hyung? Like… Jinhwan-hyung.”

Junhoe pauses. Jinhwan-hyung. It’s the first time he’s saying it, but he finds he really likes how the two words sound together, rolling off his tongue.

“And you can speak to me more informally, too. Like Junhoe-yah, or something. I dunno, it’s up to you,” Junhoe finishes lamely.

“Understood,” Jinhwan replies. “Junhoe-yah.”

(And Jinhwan is doing exactly what Junhoe asked of him, but Junhoe doesn’t know why the robot’s standard response disappoints him, just a little.)

They continue to walk along the path, their arms brushing occasionally as they exchange light conversation. When they come across a small FamilyMart a short while later, Junhoe stops walking.

“I’m gonna grab some food, hyung,” Junhoe says. “You can wait out here.”

Junhoe walks into the FamilyMart, grabbing an onigiri, a roll of kimbap and a cold canned coffee before heading to the cashier. He spends some time heating up his food in the microwave at the back of the store, but when he pushes open the door again and steps back outside, the sight that greets him almost causes him to drop his onigiri in horror.

Jinhwan is ing climbing a tree.

“Hyung!” Junhoe shouts, running over to the tree where a small crowd has already begun to form. “Jinhwan-hyung! What the are you doing?!”

Jinhwan looks down at him, and it’s only then when Junhoe finally notices the brown tabby cat stuck on one of the branches. The cat lets out a meow, and Junhoe is almost sent into cardiac arrest when Jinhwan stretches out an arm, and the cat leaps into his embrace. Thankfully they’re not too high up, though, and after a bit of slow, careful manoeuvring, Jinhwan lands lightly on the grass with the cat still in his arms.

“The cat was stuck in the tree, so I went to get it down,” Jinhwan explains when Junhoe rushes up to him. “Because statistically speaking, most humans appear to have a favourable attitude towards felines.”

Junhoe is about to open his mouth to point out to the robot that No, This Is Not How It Works, but then a few children run up to them, staring at the tabby in Jinhwan’s arms with interest. A small smile curls at the edges of Jinhwan’s lips as he crouches slightly, the cat jumping out of his arms and onto the grass only for the children to surround it immediately. Junhoe just stares at the scene.

“You sounded angry, just now,” Jinhwan says, and Junhoe shifts his gaze back to the robot to see that the small smile has slipped off his face. “I apologise if I made you upset, Junhoe-yah.”

“I wasn’t mad,” Junhoe sighs, feeling his heartbeat fall back into a more comfortable rhythm as the adrenaline begins to leave his system. “Just worried,” he finishes, taking in the rips in Jinhwan’s sweater from his stunt on the tree.

Jinhwan notices, and the robot blinks at him in slight confusion as they begin to walk back to the apartment complex. “I cannot get hurt, Junhoe-yah. There is no need for you to worry.”

“I know,” Junhoe says, but then he thinks about the mild panic that had surged through him when he had first seen Jinhwan climbing the tree, the multiple ways in which an accident could happen flashing through his mind like a roll of film. He swallows thickly, thinking about how he could possibly explain this to the robot. “Sometimes, we just worry about the people we care about. There doesn’t have to be a reason behind it - we just do.”

Junhoe watches as Jinhwan regards him closely, the robot’s brows knitting together in slight confusion as his programme tries to process the things that Junhoe is saying. Eventually Jinhwan’s expression clears, and he nods a couple of times, slowly.

“Understood,” Jinhwan says, and then in a softer voice, adds, “Thank you for your concern, Junhoe-yah.”

 

 

KDH-27
LOG ENTRY > KOO JUNHOE #04
TIME 17:55

Jinhwan rescued a cat from a tree today. If he comes with animal-friendly programming, then I can definitely verify that it’s running perfectly. His risk-processing programming, though - that I’m not so sure.

 

 

The next week passes relatively uneventfully.

Junhoe is still out of the apartment for around eleven to twelve hours a day, but the air between Junhoe and Jinhwan has become noticeably more comfortable: they slip into easy conversation over short breakfasts and longer dinners (after Junhoe finally decided to make a grocery run one day after work), Junhoe tells Jinhwan more about his life as a student and at work whenever the robot asks, and Jinhwan still always greets Junhoe good morning with a smile on his face.

And Junhoe has never had a problem with living alone, but now he returns home to a small-sized humanoid robot smiling at him and welcoming him back, steps out of the shower to be greeted by the smell of home-cooked food in the kitchen and thinks that yeah, he could definitely get used to this.

By some mad of luck, Junhoe is actually allowed to leave the lab before the sun sets one evening. He punches in the passcode to his apartment, then pushes open the door.

“I’m home,” Junhoe calls, slipping off his shoes and shrugging off his coat.

“Welcome back, Junhoe-yah,” Jinhwan replies naturally, then his head tilts a little to the side. “You are home early today.”

Cute, Junhoe thinks, and he can’t help the grin that stretches across his face even as he shrugs. “I know. I thought it was a joke when it first happened. Anyway, hyung, you don’t have to make anything today - I got takeout,” Junhoe says, holding up the white plastic bag. “I’ll go take a shower, then we can… watch television?”

Jinhwan takes the bag from Junhoe, his lips curving up into a sunny smile. It’s the smile that reveals his teeth, and causes his eyes to crinkle a little at the sides - Junhoe really likes this smile.

“That sounds nice, Junhoe-yah,” Jinhwan says in response, and Junhoe is once again reminded about how even the simplest things can make the robot seem so happy.

Junhoe emerges from his shower a short while later and joins Jinhwan on the couch, where the robot has already heated up his jajangmyeon for him. “Thanks, hyung,” Junhoe says, plopping onto the other end of the couch and turning on the television. “Is there anything you wanna watch?”

The robot shakes his head. “You can decide, Junhoe-yah.”

“You may not like my taste in movies, though,” Junhoe murmurs under his breath, as he eventually settles on a romance film he’s seen a couple of times before. They watch the movie in companionable silence, but after Junhoe finishes his jajangmyeon and places the empty container onto the coffee table, he becomes more aware of the distance between them on the couch, and the way Jinhwan is watching the movie with his back straight and his hands folded neatly in his lap.

So Junhoe clears his throat, and Jinhwan turns his head to face him. “Hyung,” Junhoe says, and he winces at how awkward he sounds already. Interacting with other people has really never been his strong suit. “You can relax, you know? Like, lean back against the couch, put your feet up or whatever. And - I mean, if you want - you can… come closer…?”

Junhoe feels his neck flush traitorously, and he scowls, annoyed at himself for getting flustered around a robot.

But Jinhwan just nods his head in understanding, shifting closer to Junhoe before tucking his legs up against his chest and resting his chin on his arms, then returning his attention to the movie. Junhoe swallows, moving to meet Jinhwan halfway, and when he crosses his legs on the couch their thighs are touching a little, and so are their sides.

The contact is nice, comfortable - Junhoe relaxes into it, and he’s never been a touchy person.

“Junhoe-yah?”

Junhoe startles a little, but turns his gaze away from the television to look down at the robot instead. “Yeah?”

“I apologise if this sounds like a silly question, but why did the male lead allow the masked man to escape with all of his important documents, just now? He could have stopped him and avoided the huge monetary loss that he is currently facing, but he made the illogical choice not to.”

Junhoe blinks. “Hyung… he chose to let the masked man take his things because he wanted to protect the woman that he loves. She could’ve gotten hurt.”

A pause, and then, “I do not understand, Junhoe.”

And Junhoe is suddenly reminded of the fact that as intelligent and human-like as Jinhwan may seem, he is essentially only still a product of Donghyuk’s remarkable programming and Bobby’s creative designing, built and manufactured in the very lab Junhoe spends so much of his waking hours in. He was programmed to be the first robot capable of feeling, but there’s still so much he doesn’t yet know, hasn’t been exposed to, and Junhoe is hit with the sudden realisation that most of what Jinhwan will eventually come to understand about emotion is going to come from him.

Him. Koo Junhoe. As in, emotionally-stunted twenty-three year-old software engineer Koo Junhoe.

“He loves her,” Junhoe begins after a moment, looking back at the screen. “This woman that he’s holding now - she’s very important to him. Meaning he… likes her, cares for her, wants to protect her, wants her to be happy, but it’s also so much more than that,” Junhoe continues, pausing awkwardly between his words because talking about feelings - even if they aren’t his own - has never come easy to him. “So yeah: while he might not have made the most logical choice by letting the masked man escape with his things, we always make sure that the people we love don’t ever come to harm.”

There’s silence between them as Jinhwan’s programme processes Junhoe’s words, and Junhoe finds himself glancing down at the robot and taking in the way his eyes are still focused so intently on the screen, and how he manages to look even smaller, now, sitting close to Junhoe and dwarfed in one of his oversized white hoodies.

The light from the television screen casts moving shadows across Jinhwan’s face, the wind from the ceiling fan blows, and the strands of synthetic bronze hair on the robot’s head ruffle ever-so-slightly.

Junhoe swallows thickly as his heart begins to thud.

 

 

KDH-27
LOG ENTRY > KOO JUNHOE #22
TIME 23:59

Jinhwan asked about the seemingly illogical things people do in the name of love, this evening. Honestly, I think the only reason why I’m beta-testing this programme is because Donghyuk wants to make my life more miserable than it already is.

 

 

“Bring Jinhwan in tomorrow,” Donghyuk says to Junhoe as they’re getting ready to leave the lab the following Thursday. “I want to run some tests on his software.”

And that’s how Junhoe finds himself taking the subway to work the next morning with Jinhwan by his side, the robot’s fingers curled tight around the handles of a brown paper bag that Junhoe knows contains his breakfast. Junhoe had woken up cursing and late, but Jinhwan had just smiled that half-amused, half-fond smile at him, packing the kimbap he had prepared for Junhoe into a small, clean Tupperware.

The subway station is crowded due to the morning rush hour, smartly-dressed businessmen talking loudly on their cellphones as they wait for the subway to arrive and businesswomen hurrying towards the platforms in their three-inch heels. A few subway station staff stand around the platform area to manage the crowd, and Junhoe’s lips twitch a little in the hints of a proud half-smirk when the staff standing nearest to him and Jinhwan turns his head, and Junhoe sees KJH-32 on the side of his neck.

Junhoe looks down, and he watches as Jinhwan brings his free hand up to cover the identical mark he has on the left side of his neck. “Did he come from the lab you work at, too?”

“Yeah,” Junhoe answers as the subway arrives. “I designed his software.”

(His, Junhoe thinks idly. A few weeks ago, he probably would’ve said its.)

The subway doors open, and people stream out. There’s a significant amount of jostling and stumbling as the passengers on the platform fight to squeeze their way onto the subway, and its instinct alone that causes Junhoe to wrap his right arm around Jinhwan’s shoulders, holding the robot close against his side after someone bumps into him, and he staggers.

“Keep close,” Junhoe murmurs as they step into the carriage, jam-packed with people. “It’s crowded.”

“Understood,” comes the standard response, but then the subway jerks as it begins to move, and Jinhwan turns his face into Junhoe’s chest a little when the latter pulls him in. “Thank you, Junhoe-yah,” Jinhwan adds softly.

And it’s honestly not like how authors describe it in romance novels: Jinhwan isn’t exactly warm, or soft against his side. But the robot is small, a real weight leaning against Junhoe, and Junhoe tightens the grip he has around Jinhwan’s shoulders imperceptibly.

Jinhwan sticks close to Junhoe when they arrive at the lab, the visual recognition sensors in his eyes working to absorb the slightly unfamiliar surroundings. They catch the lift down to the floor Junhoe works on, and then Junhoe is tapping his access card against the sensor, punching in the six-digit passcode, and pushing open the glass door.

“You’re - oh.”

Hanbin’s voice trails off when he looks up and notices that Junhoe isn’t alone. There’s an awkward moment of silence when Hanbin just stares dumbly at Jinhwan, but then Jinhwan ducks his head a little in a slight bow, and speaks.

“Good morning,” Jinhwan greets, voice neutral but pleasant.

“Good… morning,” Hanbin replies, then he shoots Junhoe a pointed look, lifting a brow in question.

Junhoe rolls his eyes, resting a gentle hand on Jinhwan’s shoulder. Hanbin stares at it. “Jinhwan-hyung, this is Hanbin-hyung. He’s the receptionist for our floor. Jinhwan-hyung is running the new programme I’m beta-testing,” Junhoe introduces, directing the last part at Hanbin before walking into the coatroom to change into his blue lab coat.

Jinhwan’s standard, polite smile curls at the edges of his lips. “It is nice to meet you, Hanbin-ssi.”

“Just Hanbin is fine,” Hanbin replies. “And it’s nice to meet you too.”

Jinhwan’s smile widens into something a little warmer just as Junhoe steps back out to join them, tilting his head in the general direction of the lab as a sign for Jinhwan to follow him.

“Have a good day, Hanbin,” Jinhwan says, smiling at him one more time before turning to follow after Junhoe.

Junhoe furrows his brows when he sees the pleasantly surprised expression on Hanbin’s face as he settles back into his seat. “What did you say to him?” Junhoe asks Jinhwan when the robot falls into step beside him.

Jinhwan blinks. “Nothing, really,” he responds, setting Junhoe’s breakfast down on his desk when the younger falls onto his chair. “I just told him to have a good day.”

“Huh,” Junhoe comments, but chooses to let the matter drop.

Junhoe moves a stack of papers on his desk into one of the drawers below, and Jinhwan slides onto the empty space accordingly as he pulls the Tupperware out of the paper bag. The corners of Junhoe’s lips quirk upwards into the hints of a small smile when he sees how Jinhwan’s feet can’t touch the floor - it’s adorable.

Unfortunately, Junhoe has barely managed to take his first bite of kimbap when a hand reaches in from literally nowhere and snags a piece. Jinhwan’s eyes widen.

“What the ,” Junhoe hisses, spinning around in his chair only to be greeted by the sight of a grinning Yunhyeong and a laughing Chanwoo.

“It’s good,” Yunhyeong says after he swallows, and the satisfied look on his face only makes Junhoe’s scowl deepen.

“That means Junhoe-hyung didn’t make it.”

“700K won, shut up.”

Chanwoo glares. “I am so severely undercompensated.”

Junhoe snorts. “May your meagre internship allowance always piss on your plans for corporate domination.”

Chanwoo is just about to retort, but then Yunhyeong notices the confused and mildly-worried expression on Jinhwan’s face and decides to cut in, gaze flickering quickly over the black marking on his neck. “Hello,” Yunhyeong greets, his standard, amicable smile stretched across his face. “Are you Jinhwan-ssi?”

Jinhwan appears a little startled at the fact that Yunhyeong is addressing him directly, but he nods. “Yes. It is nice to meet you - ”

“Yunhyeong,” Yunhyeong introduces himself, lifting a hand. “Hardware design engineer. I’m pretty sure I need to give you a hardware check-up later. And this,” Yunhyeong continues, throwing his other arm around Chanwoo. “Is Chanwoo. He’s the intern on our floor.”

Chanwoo grumbles under his breath, but Yunhyeong just smiles at Jinhwan. “Did you make the kimbap?” He asks. “It’s really good.”

“I did,” Jinhwan answers, and Junhoe sees the robot’s lips curve into a small, pleased smile, almost blooming under the praise. “Thank you. If you want, I could make some more for the next time I return to the lab - ”

“No,” Junhoe interrupts flatly, packing up the now-empty Tupperware before glaring at Yunhyeong and Chanwoo over his shoulder. “Get your own robots.”

“I was hoping you would show Jinhwan-hyung some positive aspects of the human spirit, June-yah, but clearly I was mistaken.”

Junhoe rolls his eyes as Donghyuk walks up to them, the brown-haired software engineer giving Jinhwan a quick once-over before grinning proudly. “Hi, Jinhwan-hyung. I’m Donghyuk. Could you follow me, please? I need to run some tests on your software and check on your programme.”

Jinhwan’s gaze flickers back down to Junhoe, and Junhoe feels his expression soften when he sees the hesitation in the robot’s eyes. “It’s all right, hyung,” Junhoe reassures the robot gently, and he pauses uncertainly for a second, but eventually swallows down the lump in his throat and lifts a hand to rest lightly against Jinhwan’s right cheek. Jinhwan’s synthetic skin is cold, but after the robot exhales breathlessly and Junhoe lets his hand drop, his palm still comes away feeling like fire. “You can go with him.”

“Interesting,” Donghyuk murmurs as Jinhwan gets off the desk and walks towards him, raising a brow at Junhoe pointedly.

“Shut up,” Junhoe mumbles, powering up his monitors and glaring at Yunhyeong as he settles into his seat with a mysterious, badly-suppressed smile on his face.

After Jinhwan leaves with Donghyuk, silence settles upon the main working area of the lab as everyone gets into the rhythm of work. Junhoe isn’t sure how many hours pass, but at one point Yunhyeong gets up from his seat to go give Jinhwan a hardware check-up, and Junhoe allows himself a brief moment to worry about Jinhwan, who he hopes isn’t feeling too overwhelmed. Junhoe’s in the middle of debugging a source code on one of his monitor screens when he hears footsteps approaching his seat. He looks up, and a soft smile immediately curls at the edges of his lips when he sees who it is.

“Hey, hyung,” Junhoe says, and Jinhwan smiles back. “How was it?”

“Everything’s fine,” Donghyuk answers instead, and Yunhyeong nods his agreement as he settles back into his seat. “Except Bobby-hyung was a little despaired when he saw the tears in Jinhwan-hyung’s skin…”

Donghyuk trails off, leveling Junhoe with a look, and Junhoe clears his throat slightly. “Right,” he says. “Sorry, Jinhwan-hyung had a little… stunt on a tree.”

Donghyuk opens his mouth to reply, but he’s interrupted by the sound of someone groaning, and then something heavy being dropped onto a table.

“I hate my life but do you know what I hate more?” Chanwoo begins.

“We don’t actually care - ”

“The bloody copier machine,” Chanwoo finishes, holding up a thick bundle of binders. “I came here to learn some damn thing about digital and precision engineering, not to photocopy 250-page manuals - ”

“I can help, if you need?”

Chanwoo stops ranting when Jinhwan speaks up, the robot’s voice a little uncertain, but sincere.

“Hyung,” Junhoe sighs, looking at Jinhwan. “You don’t have to.”

But Jinhwan just smiles a small smile, then follows what Junhoe had done earlier and pats the latter lightly on the cheek, twice. “I would rather help him than sit around doing nothing, June-yah.”

Junhoe’s eyes widen as he chokes a little, and Jinhwan’s smile falters immediately. “I apologise, Junhoe-yah,” the robot says quickly, withdrawing his hand. “I heard Donghyuk call you that just now, and when I asked him about it he said it would be okay to call you by that nickname, but I should have asked you first - ”

“No, hyung, it’s - it’s fine,” Junhoe says to Jinhwan, then he swallows thickly, his cheek feeling warmer than usual from where Jinhwan had touched it. “It’s more than fine, really,” Junhoe adds quietly.

Junhoe glares at Donghyuk when the other software engineer starts laughing behind his hand, shooting Junhoe one last look (seriously, why do people in the lab keep giving him weird looks today?) before walking back down the corridor.

“Understood,” Jinhwan acknowledges, and his smile this time is part-fond, part-embarrassed before he moves to follow after Chanwoo.

“I quite like him.”

Junhoe turns in his chair to face Yunhyeong. “He thanked me multiple times during his hardware check-up just now. Most of the other robotic assistants aren’t equipped with a gratitude programme, so that was… pretty nice.”

Junhoe stares at the brown paper bag sitting atop his desk. “Sometimes I think Jinhwan-hyung is better with people than I could ever be.”

Hanbin snorts lightly then, coming up to both of them to hand over some reports that were just delivered to their floor. “You’re sullen enough to account for the entire lab and maybe seven floors in either direction,” Hanbin says to Junhoe, and Junhoe scowls, but he knows it’s true. “That’s exactly why Jinhwan-hyung’s friendliness is a welcome change.”

(Junhoe thinks back to Hanbin’s rare, smiling face from this morning and finally, it makes sense.)

They work through the rest of the day in relative silence, and after Jinhwan gets back from helping Chanwoo, he alternates between peering over Junhoe’s shoulder to look at his monitor screens and sitting on Junhoe’s desk to observe the flurry of activity in the lab.

“There are a lot of robots here.”

Junhoe looks up when Jinhwan speaks, and he notices that the robot has got one hand covering the black mark on the left side of his neck again.

And Junhoe doesn’t know if he’s just imagining it, but as he stares intently into the robot’s eyes, he swears he sees a tinge of sadness, vulnerability.

“There are,” Junhoe agrees after a brief beat of silence. “But you’re the first robot of your kind, hyung - the only robot created to feel like humans do. You’re special.”

Jinhwan blinks down at him for a moment, but in the next second he’s beaming, smiling at Junhoe in a way the latter can only describe as beatific.

“Thank you, June-yah,” Jinhwan replies softly, and there’s something tender about the way Jinhwan says his name that causes Junhoe’s breath to catch in his throat. “That is very kind of you to say.”

“Anytime, hyung,” Junhoe murmurs back, and his throat feels oddly dry as he watches Jinhwan hop down lightly from his desk, a friendly smile etched on his face when Bobby calls his name.

And hyung, Junhoe thinks, you’re special to me.

 

 

KDH-27
LOG ENTRY > KOO JUNHOE #54
TIME 22:35

Brought Jinhwan back to the lab for his first software testing and hardware checkup. He’s well-liked by the people on the floor and he seemed pretty happy, so I guess that means the programme’s coming along well. If it’s one thing, though, he did look a little off when he saw all the other robots today.

I wonder if it’s enough for me to convince him that he’s different and that he matters, just because he matters so much to me.

 

 

Days bleed into weeks and weeks bleed into months, and very soon, Junhoe’s been beta-testing Jinhwan’s programme for a little over two months.

Knowing that Jinhwan is waiting for him back in the apartment always drives Junhoe to work faster during the day, because evenings are the only time they have together during the weekdays. Junhoe honestly used to be all right with leaving the lab late, because burying himself in his work helped to distract him from the fact that he really didn’t have anything or anyone waiting for him at home.

But that’s different, now: now he’s got a cute, small-sized humanoid robot waiting for him to come home with home-cooked food on the table, so they can laze around on the couch and watch mind-numbing television together till Junhoe’s on the brink of falling asleep.

Junhoe’s weekends get better, too, no longer just him sleeping in till mid-afternoon and eating an assortment of ramyun and takeout, but now he has someone to head out with to do the grocery shopping, go to the mall, catch the occasional movie or even just take an aimless walk around the neighbourhood.

Some people might call them domestic, boring, but Junhoe doesn’t care: it’s easy, it’s nice, and at the heart of it all, Junhoe’s pretty sure he’ll be happy whatever it is they’re doing as long as he’s spending the time with Jinhwan.

Unfortunately, though, work still occupies the biggest space in Junhoe’s reality, and there will always be days at work.

Junhoe returns to the apartment one evening with an incessant throbbing in his head, and the sound of his passcode being keyed into the lock only manages to piss him off further as he pushes the door open violently and steps across the threshold.

“Welcome back - ”

Jinhwan’s typical greeting fades into nothing as the robot takes in the way Junhoe kicks off his shoes, tosses his coat over the couch (instead of hanging it up like he usually does) then storms down the hall to his room, slamming the door shut with a loud bang. Junhoe undoes the top two buttons of his white work shirt, yanks his phone and wallet out of the back pocket of his pants, tosses them somewhere onto his bedside table and then falls face-first onto his bed, letting out a frustrated shout into his pillow.

Work in the lab is time-consuming and never-ending but usually relatively peaceful - one of the reasons why Junhoe chose to become a software engineer in the first place was because he knew he wouldn’t have to deal with people so often. But there had been a meeting with some of their supervisors today, and Junhoe’s lab had gotten chewed out for a few missed deadlines, slipshod reports and defects in the robots they’ve designed and released to the public.

Junhoe’s in the midst of cursing one of his supervisors viciously in his head when there’s a soft, tentative knock on the door.

“June-yah?”

Junhoe doesn’t respond, afraid that he’ll snap if he opens his mouth. There’s silence for a few more seconds, and then Jinhwan speaks again.

“Are you hungry? There’s dinner in the refrigerator, if you are,” Jinhwan says, but he sounds uncertain. A pause, and then, “June-yah?”

The silence that weighs down on them is thick and uncomfortable, and Junhoe feels the throbbing in his head get worse when he eventually hears Jinhwan’s footsteps walking away from his bedroom door. He rolls over onto his back after a few minutes, just staring blankly up at the ceiling, and he must’ve ended up dozing off because the next time he blinks opens his eyes, the sky is significantly darker than it was before.

Junhoe has just sat up in his bed when there’s another light knock on his bedroom door. This time, he answers before Jinhwan can speak. “Yeah, hyung.”

The door opens to reveal Jinhwan, who pokes his head into the room.

“You can come in, hyung,” Junhoe says gently.

The robot pushes the door open wider, and Junhoe watches as Jinhwan walks into the room with a cup in one hand and a plate in the other.

“What’s this, hyung?” Junhoe asks, voice slightly scratchy from sleep.

“Coffee, almond cookies and Tylenol pills,” Jinhwan replies, handing Junhoe the cup. “You seemed very upset when you first got back, and you also looked really tired. So I did some research, and the Internet suggested that you might be having a headache? Then I read that coffee and almonds are foods proven to help relieve headaches, and that people take Tylenol when they are having headaches, too. I apologise that this is all I can do, but I hope it helps a little.”

Junhoe is dumbfounded as he watches Jinhwan speak, and the robot looks slightly embarrassed as he takes the two Tylenol pills from the plate and offers them to Junhoe. Junhoe swallows the pills wordlessly, takes a long sip of the hot coffee, then pops a cookie into his mouth. Jinhwan looks part-relieved, part-satisfied after Junhoe does this, then he’s smiling a small smile at Junhoe as he moves to leave the room.

“Hyung.”

Jinhwan stops, turning back around with a mildly-confused expression on his face when Junhoe curls his fingers lightly around his wrist.

“Thank you.”

Junhoe watches the way the robot’s eyes widen slightly at his tone: soft, sincere and certainly rare, coming from Junhoe. “I’m sorry I ignored you just now. I was frustrated, and I didn’t want to take my anger out on you - god knows I have a tendency to do that,” Junhoe admits, and he knows it’s true, considering how many times Donghyuk has nagged at him before to stop misdirecting your anger. “Stop belittling the things you do for me, hyung - the feeling I’m trying to convey to you right now is simple, genuine gratitude.”

Jinhwan looks a little taken aback, and Junhoe’s lips twitch in the hints of an affectionate smile when the robot finally nods, then goes, “Understood.”

There’s a pause, and then, as Junhoe had expected, “You’re welcome, June-yah,” Jinhwan adds softly, ducking his head just a little.

(And Junhoe wonders idly how Jinhwan would look like if the robot were able to blush.)

Junhoe only half-consciously brushes his thumb over the soft, synthetic skin at Jinhwan’s wrist, and both he and Jinhwan are more than a little surprised when the robot shivers slightly at his touch.

“Hyung,” Junhoe says quietly. “I’ll go take a shower, then do you - would you like to move your charging station here?”

Jinhwan’s eyes widen for a moment, but then he nods, biting down on his lower lip. Junhoe doesn’t know if the action is unconscious or if the robot picked it up by observing, but all the same, it makes Junhoe’s chest tighten.

A short while later, Junhoe finds himself pushing the plug of Jinhwan’s charging wire into the socket by his bed before moving back a little to make space for the robot. Junhoe lies down on one of the pillows then looks up at Jinhwan, smiling encouragingly.

“You can lie down, hyung,” Junhoe says softly.

The robot appears to be nervous, movements slow and hesitant as he settles onto his left side so as to not get his charging cord tangled up. Junhoe reaches for the blanket, pulling it up till it covers the charging station receptacle at the small of Jinhwan’s back. Junhoe rolls onto his right side when he lies back down, and if he just stared at Jinhwan like this, the orange cord hidden from sight, he could possibly fool himself into believing that Jinhwan was human.

“You forgot to turn on the power, June-yah,” Jinhwan mumbles, his voice beginning to slur.

“I’ll turn it on, hyung, don’t worry,” Junhoe reassures the robot gently.

A soft silence falls upon them as Jinhwan’s mental processes start to slow, preparing the robot to enter sleep mode. Junhoe watches as Jinhwan begins to take long, drawn-out blinks, and soon enough, the robot’s eyes finally close.

Junhoe removes his left hand from beneath the blanket, bringing it up to rest his palm lightly against Jinhwan’s cheek. The moonlight shining in through Junhoe’s bedroom window casts a soft glow around Jinhwan’s head, and Junhoe swallows thickly as he brushes the synthetic strands of Jinhwan’s bronze hair away from his closed eyes.

“I didn’t forget about the power, hyung,” Junhoe whispers, brushing his thumb over Jinhwan’s cheek. His heart throbs a little at the feeling of Jinhwan’s cold, synthetic skin. “I just have no idea how to explain all this to you.”

Then Junhoe closes his eyes, presses a tender kiss to Jinhwan’s forehead, and he reaches over the robot’s small body to flick on the switch before finally going to sleep.

 

 

KDH-27
LOG ENTRY > KOO JUNHOE #173
TIME 08:02

Jinhwan could sense my frustration and exhaustion after I came home from work, last night. He let me be when I needed to be alone, then he tried to help me get rid of my headache. He was honestly able to read my mood - Dong, really, I think your programme’s going to turn out amazing.

 

 

Junhoe doesn’t log about the kiss.

 

 

A few weeks later, Junhoe’s flipping through a stack of binders on his desk in the lab when he suddenly lets out a loud, frustrated groan: the one binder he needs for his meeting in a couple of hours is not there.

So Junhoe hastily fishes for his phone in his bag, pulling the device out and keying in his home number before pressing the green call button.

There’s the sound of the dial tone for a few seconds, and then a voice.

“Hello?”

“Jinhwan-hyung,” Junhoe greets.

“June-yah? Is everything okay?” The robot asks, an edge of worry in his tone that causes Junhoe’s lips to quirk upwards a little.

“Everything’s fine, hyung. I just need you to do me a favour,” Junhoe pauses, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “On my desk, in the study room, there’s a pretty thick binder with a red spine - can you see it?”

“Yes.”

Junhoe sighs in relief. “Okay, great. Could you take the subway down to the lab and pass the binder to me? I need it for a meeting later.”

“Understood.”

And that’s how Junhoe finds himself looking up from his monitor screen about an hour later, a soft smile etched on his face as Jinhwan enters the lab and heads for his desk.

“Thanks, hyung, you’re a lifesaver,” Junhoe groans in appreciation when Jinhwan hands him the binder. Jinhwan laughs, the fondly-exasperated smile that Junhoe has come to recognise is reserved for him alone stretching across the robot’s face as he pats Junhoe’s cheek twice, then drops his hand.

“I got you coffee, by the way,” Jinhwan says, placing a paper cup down onto Junhoe’s desk.

Junhoe feels his heart warm. “Thanks, hyung,” he murmurs softly, then peers into the brown paper bag. “You got me two cups?”

The robot’s lips curve into a small, embarrassed smile. “I apologise, June-yah. The other cup is actually for Chanwoo.”

Junhoe feels like someone just emptied a pail of ice water over his head, because, “Chanwoo?”

Chanwoo pauses when he hears his name, stopping next to them on his way back to his desk. “Yes…?”

Jinhwan offers him an amiable smile. “Good afternoon, Chanwoo. I got you coffee.”

Chanwoo’s eyes widen a little in surprise as he accepts the paper cup from Jinhwan. “Oh,” he says intelligently, staring at the cup for a moment. “Thank you, Jinhwan-hyung. Where did you get this from?”

“The cafe outside the subway station,” the robot replies, then casts Junhoe a sheepish look. “I used the emergency money you left on the kitchen island, June-yah. I hope that is all right with you.”

Chanwoo grins as he takes his first sip of the coffee. “The fact that Junhoe-hyung’s money was used to pay for this coffee makes it taste so much better,” he says, then smiles gratefully at Jinhwan. “Thanks again, hyung.”

After Chanwoo walks back to his desk, Jinhwan turns to face Junhoe proper. The robot is doing that lip-biting thing again, the one that is not good for Junhoe’s sanity. “I hope you are not mad, June-yah. I just wanted to do something nice.”

Junhoe sighs, moving his coffee cup away so the robot has space to perch himself on his desk again. “I’m not mad, hyung,” Junhoe says, and he really isn’t, because as much as Junhoe thinks Chanwoo is an idiot who needs to know his place in the world, both Junhoe and Donghyuk have independently spoken to their supervisors about how the boy is a talent in digital and precision engineering and the lab could use someone like him. “We kick him around too much, anyway. So thanks for doing this.”

Junhoe grins back gently at the relieved smile Jinhwan sends his way, then he looks into the bag again. “Who’s this for?” Junhoe asks, referring to the small brown paper bag inside.

“Yunhyeong,” Jinhwan replies, just as Bobby, Donghyuk and Yunhyeong re-enter the lab, back from their late lunch break. Jinhwan hops off Junhoe’s desk just as Yunhyeong settles into his seat, the hardware engineer blinking in slight confusion when Jinhwan hands him the brown paper bag.

“Thirty-six-hour shift, I heard,” the robot says empathetically, and Yunhyeong opens the paper bag to reveal the bagel inside. Donghyuk’s grin is so wide and so proud it looks like it could split his face in half.

“Thank you, really,” Yunhyeong says to Jinhwan, but before Jinhwan can so much as offer a response, Bobby is slinging a casual arm around the robot’s shoulders, grinning broadly. Junhoe stares at Bobby’s arm as though it has managed to personally offend him. (It has, he insists.)

“Drinks tonight, guys,” Bobby says enthusiastically. “It’s Friday, we haven’t gone out for a while, and it’ll be our first time with Jinan-hyung!”

“Jinan-hyung - ” Junhoe chokes at the nickname, sending Jinhwan a mildly-alarmed look.

“You’re treating, right?” Hanbin pipes up from the receptionist’s desk.

Bobby’s broad grin wavers. “Fine,” he relents eventually. “One round. Because unlike the rest of you, I have a benevolent soul.”

“No,” Yunhyeong disagrees, taking a bite of his bagel. “It’s because if you don’t treat, you know none of us will come.”

Donghyuk laughs at the crestfallen expression on Bobby’s face, leaning against Junhoe’s desk and taking a sip of his coffee. “Friendship,” Donghyuk says to Jinhwan, a sunny smile on his face even as Junhoe glares at him, hard. “Truly one of the most beautiful things about being human.”

 

 

The bar that they go to in Gangnam is just crowded and loud enough to suit Junhoe’s tastes.

Jinhwan looks a little overwhelmed when they first step inside, the visual recognition sensors in his eyes working to absorb the dim lighting and unfamiliar surroundings. Junhoe watches the robot as he looks around, keeping him close even as the seven of them jam into an empty booth.

“You okay, hyung?” Junhoe asks Jinhwan, leaning in close so the robot can better hear him.

Jinhwan nods, lips curving into a little smile meant for Junhoe alone as he pats his knee reassuringly a couple of times. Bobby gets up then, resting a hand on the oak table.

“Shots all around?” He asks, and everyone nods their agreement.

“Jinan-hyung, wanna come with?” Bobby asks the robot with a smile, who nods and follows after him.

“Donghyuk-hyung,” Chanwoo voices suddenly, and the remaining four people at the table turn to look at him. “If the beta-testing turns out successful and the lab lets us run the programme, will - will we be able to keep Jinhwan-hyung around?”

Junhoe tenses a little. After working at the lab for almost two years, now, he knows that robots that undergo beta-testing without malfunctioning halfway through are either allowed to continue running their programmes, if not then they’re shut-down, and a new series of robots will be designed to run the programme before being released to the public.

Chanwoo’s question is legitimate, but just not something that Junhoe wants to think about.

“You know that’s not a decision that can be made by me, Chanwoo-yah,” Donghyuk answers, then pauses. “Why do you ask?”

Chanwoo shrugs, but the smile on his face is teasing, yet sincere. “I guess it’s just very hard not to like someone who’s willing to stand with you at the copier machine for two hours while you both scan seven years’ worth of lab reports, especially not if that same person turns up with coffee and makes you feel, for once, like something other than cheap labour.”

Everyone laughs, even Junhoe, whose lips pull up into his signature half-smirk. Yunhyeong makes exaggerated cooing noises and grabs Chanwoo in a headlock just as Bobby and Jinhwan return with the shots. Jinhwan doesn’t have a drink, of course, but Junhoe makes it a point to wrap a warm arm around the robot’s shoulders and pull him into the circle when they toast.

Jinhwan’s eyes are bright, his smile is illuminated by the orange lighting of the bar, and Junhoe’s heart races.

Everyone loosens up as the night gets deeper: top buttons of crisp work shirts get undone, cheeks get flushed and laughter gets louder as they consume more drinks all around. Junhoe keeps one arm around Jinhwan for most of the night, occasionally glancing down at the robot to make sure he isn’t feeling too overwhelmed in the unfamiliar and slightly noisy environment. But Jinhwan is always ready to reassure him with small, grateful smiles and almost-absentminded pats to his thigh, and Junhoe allows himself to indulge in the concerned looks the robot sends his way and the worried touches to his cheek as Junhoe continues to down more alcohol throughout the night.

Junhoe had thought that no one was paying attention to them at first, to the way Junhoe was almost unconsciously protective of Jinhwan and the way Jinhwan was almost unconsciously fussing over Junhoe, but then Junhoe catches Yunhyeong’s gaze on them just as Jinhwan is pressing the back of his hand to Junhoe’s flushed cheek.

Yunhyeong raises his brows, gaze inquisitive yet still managing to come off as knowing. Junhoe does his best to glare a hole straight into Yunhyeong, but this only results in Yunhyeong arranging his face into some kind of pleasant smile as Junhoe starts to glare at him harder.

Bobby and Yunhyeong decide to play wingmen at one point into the night, dragging Hanbin and Chanwoo out of the booth and forcefully shoving them towards the bar. Junhoe also can’t exactly remember when he and Donghyuk had started sitting so close, but suddenly Junhoe’s got a hand on Donghyuk’s thigh and Donghyuk’s got his head buried in Junhoe’s neck as they laugh at their co-workers at the bar, and Junhoe is just about tipsy enough to make some poor life choices and not regret them till morning comes.

It’s when Donghyuk lifts his head as Junhoe begins to trail his hand higher up his thigh that Junhoe hears a voice coming from over his shoulder.

“June-yah?” It’s Jinhwan, of course, and the robot sounds hesitant. “You are intoxicated. Please do not make rash decisions.”

Junhoe stills for a moment, but he blames it on the alcohol when he feels a rush of adrenaline flood through his system as he moves closer to Donghyuk, a twisted part of him wanting to see just how far he can push the robot.

“June-yah,” Jinhwan calls again, and he sounds a little more desperate, this time. “You are intoxicated. I would strongly advise against making any rash decisions.”

The air around them begins to charge with tension when Donghyuk’s pupils dilate and his lips part open just a little, and Junhoe’s heartbeat is roaring in his ears as he makes no move to pull away.

But then a small hand wraps around his bicep, and this time, Jinhwan’s voice is insistent. “Junhoe, you are intoxicated - ”

“Fine,” Junhoe hisses, finally moving away from Donghyuk and pushing a rough hand through his hair. He shakes off Jinhwan’s grip, then gestures pointedly at the exit. “Let’s go,” he says, and his voice is edgy and irritated.

The cab ride back to the apartment is tense and uncomfortable, the silence so thick you could slice through it with a knife. Junhoe glares out the window the entire ride back, his head throbbing and his heart a mess.

Junhoe jabs his passcode into the lock violently, slamming open the door and stepping across the threshold without bothering to check if Jinhwan is following behind. He's just managed to kick off his shoes and make his way down the hall when he's stopped by the sound of Jinhwan’s voice, soft, tentative and more than a little fearful.

“I apologise, June-yah.”

And of course that only manages to make Junhoe even more annoyed, because Jinhwan didn't even do anything wrong. Junhoe has never been one to back down from a challenge once he's gotten riled up, always aware of what to say to make others hurt and eager to feel that sweet sense of vindication after he knows he's won.

But Junhoe has also never liked fighting with people who don't fight back.

“Why did you do it?” Junhoe asks, tone flat.

“I apologise, I do not understand what you are - ”

Junhoe whirls around, and the movement combined with the pounding in his head nearly causes him to stumble. “Why did you stop me? Just now - why did you stop me from kissing Donghyuk?”

The robot blinks once, his brows furrowing a little. “I told you, June-yah. You were intoxicated, and research shows that intoxicated people do not always make rational decisions.”

“No,” Junhoe blurts, the words tumbling out before he can think them through. “No. That can’t - that can’t just be it. You tried to stop me thrice, hyung. Why - ” Junhoe’s voice cracks, so he stops, then tries again. “Why did you do it?”

Please, Junhoe thinks, searching the robot’s eyes desperately. Please just tell me that you didn’t like the idea of me and Donghyuk kissing, that maybe you were jea-

“Junhoe,” Jinhwan begins slowly, and no, Junhoe thinks brokenly, because the robot’s voice is part-confused, part-patient, and Junhoe hates it. “I do not know what you would like me to say. You were intoxicated, and you could have ended up doing something rash.”

Silence, and then it’s like all the fight leaves Junhoe’s body at once, the light in his eyes dying and his heart going cold.

“That’s it, then?”

Jinhwan looks taken aback at the sudden defeated tone of Junhoe’s voice, the exhaustion in his eyes. “June-yah,” the robot says softly, and it hurts. “I apologise, but I do not understand.”

And it’s only then when Junhoe realises how stupid it was of him to go falling for Jinhwan, because Junhoe might be able to ignore the fact that Jinhwan’s skin is never warm, might be able to cover up Jinhwan’s charging station receptacle and fool himself into believing that Jinhwan is just as human as he is, but waiting for Jinhwan to tell him that he may just like him is like waiting for a train that will never come.

So Junhoe takes a deep, shuddering breath, pushes his hair out of his eyes and then lets his hand fall limply to the side. “Forget it,” he mumbles, suddenly so, so tired. “Good night, hyung.”

Junhoe turns, walks to his bedroom, and misses the sadness that creeps into Jinhwan’s eyes.

 

 

Junhoe doesn’t log about that day.

 

 

Weeks pass, and they move on.

Their routine never really changes. Sometimes they go out for meals (in which only Junhoe does the eating, but they talk and they laugh over their own inside jokes and it’s so easy), sometimes they go catch a movie, but a majority of their time together is still spent inside the apartment when Junhoe isn’t at work, and Junhoe isn’t complaining, and neither is Jinhwan.

Call him a masochist, but Junhoe had made the decision to allow himself to indulge in the robot’s fondness towards him, in the way Jinhwan cares for him and fits himself so easily into the empty spaces in Junhoe’s life, because who knows? The lab may very well shut Jinhwan down after his beta-testing period is up, and Junhoe would’ve been agonising for nothing. Alternatively, if the lab does allow Jinhwan to continue running the programme, well - Junhoe can decide then whether he would like Jinhwan to continue being his robotic companion or not.

Junhoe will get over Jinhwan, will not allow himself the pain of liking a being who couldn’t possibly like him back. He’ll love Jinhwan as a companion, a friend, a hyung, but no more than that.

(People always did say that saying is one thing, but believing is another.)

 

 

The night in which everything changes starts like any other.

It’s a Saturday night, which means that Jinhwan and Junhoe had gone out for a late dinner instead of eating in the apartment like they do during the weekdays. They had gone to a bibimbap place not too far from the apartment complex, where Jinhwan had chuckled at how fast Junhoe had scarfed down his food before tossing some napkins at him, because there’s gochujang on your chin, June-yah.

The walk back to the apartment complex is slow and comfortable, Jinhwan hiding his laughter behind his palm as Junhoe complains about his supervisors and gossips about his co-workers. The night wind is cool, the streets are quiet, and everything is normal.

Perhaps if Junhoe were a little more alert, he might’ve been able to stop it before it happened.

They’re walking past an alley when Junhoe hears footsteps behind him, too sudden and much too close for comfort. He spins around quickly, but not quickly enough: a hand curls around his jacket-covered arm, yanks harshly and Junhoe stumbles, his heart leaping into his throat.

“Hand over your wallet and your phone,” comes a low voice into Junhoe’s ear. Junhoe struggles on instinct alone, trying to wrench his arm free of the tight grip around his bicep, but all that earns him is that very same arm moving up to grab him around the neck and something sharp jabbing into his side. Junhoe’s heart starts to pound in his chest as the first feelings of panic begin to set in, because Jinhwan, Junhoe thinks frantically, Jinhwan -

“Stop struggling,” his attacker hisses dangerously. “And you - ”

Junhoe’s blood runs cold at the sight of Jinhwan being held in a similar position as him, a hooded figure pressed up against his back. “Hand over your wallet, or this guy gets it,” Junhoe’s attacker spits at Jinhwan.

“He’s a robot,” Junhoe manages to choke out. “He doesn’t have money.”

Junhoe goes rigid when the arm around his neck tightens. “Untrue. Robots always carry the money these days.”

“Look,” Junhoe says desperately, trying to keep his voice steady and even. “We don’t have anything - ,” Junhoe hisses, face twisting when the sharp object digs deeper into his side.

“Don’t ing lie to me - ”

Junhoe’s attacker doesn’t get any further than that, too busy threatening Junhoe to notice the flash of movement in front of them. The attacker’s arm is ripped away from Junhoe’s neck in the next second, and the sharp object (a knife, Junhoe realises now) in his other hand goes clattering onto the sidewalk.

Junhoe’s attacker drops to his knees just as Jinhwan curls his fingers around his arm, intending to pull him to his feet. Jinhwan yanks, the attacker trips forward, but by the time Junhoe notices the flash of the blade in the dim moonlight, it’s already too late: Junhoe’s attacker lets out a shout, then plunges the knife into Jinhwan’s abdomen.

Both Junhoe’s and Jinhwan’s eyes widen simultaneously when sparks flash from Jinhwan’s stomach with a loud, hissing crackle. The attacker curses, recoiling, and he seems to realise that attempting to mug a robot is costing him more trouble than what it’s worth, so he hauls the other attacker up (Junhoe hadn’t even spared a glance at him, but he assumes he must’ve knocked his head against the concrete wall when Jinhwan shoved him off of him just now) before tripping out of the alley.

“Hyung,” Junhoe chokes, stumbling over to Jinhwan and gripping the robot by his arms. Jinhwan is still standing but his eyes are confused, and white-hot panic seizes Junhoe’s heart when Jinhwan’s eyes suddenly show their first signs of glitching.

“Hyung, please, don’t,” Junhoe whispers brokenly, carefully moving Jinhwan over to the wall so he can lean up against it as Junhoe dashes back out into the street in frantic search for a cab. Thankfully one pulls up a few minutes later, and Junhoe doesn’t even think twice before he’s scooping Jinhwan up into his arms and sliding into the cab, barely remembering to eke out South Korea Robotics Laboratory before the cab is speeding off into the night.

Junhoe feels utterly helpless as sparks continue to flash from the hole in Jinhwan’s abdomen, the knife that had torn through his synthetic skin managing to cut through the complicated network of wires inside him and cause multiple instrument cable breaks. Junhoe chokes on air when Jinhwan starts glitching in his arms, fumbling for his phone and calling up Yunhyeong and Donghyuk in a panic to please just come down to the lab now, Jinhwan-hyung is short-circuiting and we need to fix him, please -

“June-yah.”

Junhoe’s gaze snaps to Jinhwan at the sound of the robot’s voice, hoarse and mechanical and devoid of its usual warmth.

“Your heart is beating too fast - you are panicking,” Jinhwan informs him. “Please, calm down.”

“Calm down - hyung, you’re - you’re - ”

Warning: a problem with the cooling system has been detected.

“No, hyung - ” Junhoe chokes, the automated, emotionless voice of Jinhwan’s programme only causing the panic within him to build. “Hyung, why - why the did you do that?” Junhoe asks desperately, the fear he’s feeling causing the expletive to slip out unknowingly. “I could’ve just given him my wallet - it’s not worth - ”

“He was hurting you, June-yah,” Jinhwan cuts in, and this is the first time since Junhoe’s started beta-testing Jinhwan that the robot has ever interrupted him. More sparks flash from Jinhwan’s abdomen, but the robot manages a small smile.

“And we always make sure that the people we love don’t ever come to harm.”

Junhoe freezes, remembering the very night he had said those words to Jinhwan on the couch in his living room. Jinhwan hadn’t responded to him then, and Junhoe had taken it that the robot’s programme wasn’t able to process what he was saying, but now -

“Hyung,” Junhoe chokes, and his throat feels too tight and his heart feels as though it’s about to leap out of his chest, but Junhoe knows he needs to say this now, before it’s really too late. “Jinhwan-hyung, I - I love you.”

And Jinhwan smiles, his eyes curving into crescents and his lips pulled high enough to reveal his teeth, and Junhoe’s heartbeat finally relaxes because he knows what he’s said is true.

“June-yah,” Jinhwan whispers, and Junhoe tightens his hold around the robot when he glitches in his arms again. Jinhwan manages to lift his left hand, resting his small palm delicately against Junhoe’s cheek, and the robot smiles softly when Junhoe leans into the touch. “I think I love you too.”

A final series of sparks flash from the damaged cables in Jinhwan’s stomach, the robot glitches one last time, his eyes slide shut, and then he goes perfectly still.

And Junhoe cries.

 

 

“Junhoe.”

Junhoe doesn’t bother looking up at the sound of his name, recognising Donghyuk’s voice and knowing that his friend will just come up to him, anyway. True enough, he hears the sound of Donghyuk’s footsteps approaching before the brown-haired software engineer is standing right next to Junhoe, mimicking his pose and resting his forearms against the railing.

They’re on the rooftop of the lab, the place where Junhoe has spent a majority of the past twenty-seven-odd hours staring into the distance and trying to ignore the stinging in his eyes and the hollowness in his chest. Yunhyeong and Donghyuk had arrived at the lab just slightly after Junhoe did, had taken one look at Jinhwan broken in his arms and the sheer anguish on Junhoe’s face before slipping into their blue lab coats and getting to work immediately.

They’ve been working non-stop since then, running on adrenaline and determination and more than a few shots of espresso to try and fix Jinhwan, but as Junhoe turns his head to look at Donghyuk’s face, he supposes they’ve finally finished.

Donghyuk looks a little worse for wear: there are the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes and his brown hair is messy, not carefully styled like it usually is. He regards Junhoe for a moment before opening his mouth, but Junhoe beats him to it.

“Did you manage to bring him back?”

Junhoe’s voice is hoarse, scratchy - unfamiliar even to his own ears.

Donghyuk is silent for a moment. “Yunhyeong-hyung managed to repair most of the hardware: he fixed the damaged instrument cables, and replaced the computer fans and heatsinks. You saw Bobby-hyung just now, right?” Junhoe nods once, and Donghyuk continues. “Yeah. He patched Jinhwan-hyung up and gave him some new synthetic skin for the area that got torn.”

Junhoe turns his gaze back towards the skyline, worry and despair still threatening to consume him from the inside because Donghyuk has yet to answer the most important question, to really tell Junhoe what he wants to know.

“We managed to extract his central processing unit,” Donghyuk continues after a moment, and Junhoe hates the traitorous feeling of hope that flickers in his chest. “It was - it was damaged, Junhoe,” Donghyuk finally says, and Junhoe feels himself go completely rigid. “I - we repaired it, but his memory management unit - ”

“What, Donghyuk?” Junhoe interrupts flatly, and he feels so tired, so defeated. “Just - tell me.”

Donghyuk pushes a hand through his hair, takes a breath, then speaks. “I salvaged most of his hard disk, but I don’t know how effective the system restore will be: he might just return to what he was before the incident, he might be better, or he might - ”

Donghyuk exhales shakily, and the look in his eyes is apologetic.

“He might not remember anything at all.”

 

 

Junhoe taps his access card against the sensor, pushes open the glass door, and is taken back to how it all began.

WORKING LAB 3 is empty and silent, save for the soft humming of the air conditioning, the occasional beeps coming from some of the monitors, and Junhoe’s footsteps against the linoleum tiles as he ventures further into the room.

Tap, tap, and then he stops.

Junhoe is hit with an overwhelming feeling of déjà vu as he stares at Jinhwan standing before him. The robot looks as good as new, almost exactly like how he did when Junhoe first saw him, except for the fact that his clothes are different, now. Jinhwan’s eyes are closed, his synthetic bronze hair is falling across his forehead, and his head is bowed, just a little.

If Junhoe didn’t know any better, it’d be like nothing ever happened to Jinhwan in the first place.

Junhoe’s throat feels impossibly tight as he repeats his motions from months ago, sliding a finger under Jinhwan’s thin wrist to gingerly lift his limp arm. This time, though, Junhoe can’t stop himself from dragging his thumb gently over the knob on Jinhwan’s wrist, remembering the night he had done this in his room and the way Jinhwan had shivered at his touch.

Junhoe swallows thickly, knowing that he can’t keep putting off the inevitable. So he sets Jinhwan’s arm carefully back down against his side, slides his left arm around the robot’s waist, slips a finger under his black sweater and presses the cold, metallic power button once.

There’s the familiar soft hum of the machinery warming up, followed by Jinhwan reciting South Korea Robotics Laboratory in an automated, emotionless voice, so unlike the fond and gentle tone that Junhoe has grown used to. Then Jinhwan briefly runs through a list of his specs, stops, and finally, he opens his eyes.

Please, Junhoe begs, watching desperately as Jinhwan stares blankly ahead, and his central processing unit begins to whir. Please.

A pause. Junhoe’s heart is in his throat.

“Input user credentials, please.”

And Junhoe’s heart shatters.

Junhoe just stands there for a long moment, feeling absolutely helpless and empty inside. Eventually, though, he exhales shakily, lifting a hand to gently card through the synthetic strands of Jinhwan’s bronze hair before resting his palm lightly against the robot’s cheek.

And Junhoe allows himself this one last moment before he walks out of the room for good.

“Thank you, hyung,” Junhoe whispers, even though Jinhwan can’t actually hear him. “For everything.”

Junhoe closes his eyes, drops a tender kiss to the top of Jinhwan’s head, then takes a step back and breathes.

“Nevermind, then,” Junhoe mumbles to the robot, who’s still staring straight ahead. “Standby mode.”

With that, Junhoe turns, his chest feeling oddly numb even as he begins walking back towards the glass door.

Tap, tap, tap.

And then, a voice.

“Junhoe?”