9:49 pm

The front door opened and closed with a violent slam, shaking the rickety structure of the apartment complex. Mumbles and groans bounced off the walls as sneakers were thrown carelessly to the corner of the room before heavy footsteps made their way onto plush carpet.

"Chanyeol," a voice croaked, "where are you?"

"In the kitchen. Did you eat yet?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Ah."

A mess of hair appeared in the doorway, along with a chapped hand gripping the frame. The young woman had dark rings stamped underneath both eyes, and was pressed into a thin line. A strange vest was strapped to her torso by velcro and buckles; hanging from her hip was a loaded pistol.

A soft gasp left the lips of the man—or to be more correct, the AI—who was currently shutting off the stove. He was a gangly fellow, with dark hair and ears that stuck out from the sides of his head. The AI, an acronym for Artificial Intelligence, came in the mail about three weeks ago as a gift from the woman's mother—a generous purchase that would surely cause a dent in her parents' retirement savings. And although the daughter protested and attempted to return the AI to the factory multiple times, the mother insisted it was a present, and like all presents, they should be accepted graciously. 

Constructed and marketed in the glittering capitol, Chanyeol was the newest model of the EXO Series. There were many others like him, not in appearance, but in functionality. The AIs were designed to lessen the struggles on humans, or the way the woman thought of it, to take care of problems at home so humans could create more trouble for themselves in the outside world.

"Ara, you look half dead. What happened?"

The human standing before him, now dubbed Ara, shook her head and ran a hand through tangled hair. "Where'd you learn that expression from?"

"From one of the morning dramas."

"I see," Ara said as she began to undo the straps of her work attire. "How was your day? How are you feeling?"

An almost inaudible whir could be heard as Chanyeol processed the question, and a millisecond later it was followed by a click. "I think... I think I am feeling content. Nothing eventful happened today. Although, Dal-Po and In-Ha finally kissed."

A weary smile crept onto Ara's face. The AI was talking about the tv drama series, Pinocchio. "And does that excite you?"

He nodded innocently and she laughed.

"Is there anything you would like right now? I made some soup—"

"Just a beer is fine." She waved her hand airily. "I'm feeling absolutely drained."

He observed her for a moment before closing the distance in two long strides and bending his knees to hug her around the waist. Ara's eyes widened considerably at the unexpected display of affection, then softened as her arms s around his frame. She didn't bother to ask what he was doing, but Chanyeol decided to explain anyways, "Physical contact is supposed to put humans at ease."

"Is that so?"

Chanyeol nodded against her hair. However, he was not willing to admit physical contact also put him at ease. It assured him that her chest was still rising and falling as it was pressed against his own, motionless one.

The kind of work Ara did always left her physically and emotionally exhausted. She did dangerous, risky work that had Chanyeol's brows permanently knitted with worry. When she left at the crack of dawn every morning, he became restless, and would find the need to keep himself busy with mundane tasks and chores. Every few hours, he even peered through the peephole in hopes that Ara would return earlier than usual, but of course she was never there. Chanyeol was always wondering if she was eating well, what mission she had that day, how her coworkers were treating her, what kind of people she saw on the way home, if she was thinking of him as much as he was thinking of her... stuff like that.

The AI knew there was something wrong with him, and Ara was beginning to notice as well. Sometimes he described a throbbing or aching in his chest, but when asked if his system was malfunctioning, he would say that it was running perfectly fine. In truth, he only felt this whenever he thought of Ara, or whenever he missed her, or whenever he was in her presence. He asked Ara if she ever felt this way about anyone, to which she simply replied, "Every once in a while."

10:01 pm

"Xiumin got