Almost Human

The walk back to my apartment was peaceful, the cool breeze helping clear my mind after the brainstorming session with the group. Opening the door, I saw Ender stepping away from his charging station. His movements, always precise, caught my attention, and I felt the familiar mix of comfort and curiosity as he greeted me.

“Welcome back,” he said, his voice steady as always. “How was your meeting?”

I shrugged off my coat, smiling. “The group meeting was really great. We have a solid team, and I’m actually excited about the project. We’re designing a medical robot that’s sensitive to touch and is warm to the touch—to make it feel more human for patient care.”

Ender nodded, his head tilting slightly as he processed the information. “A fascinating concept. Warmth, in particular, would certainly enhance the human experience of touch.”

I laughed softly, thinking about it. “Yeah, it’s kind of strange that we’re designing something like that when I’ve got you here already. It made me wonder—what if you had that warmth? What would that be like for you?”

His gaze held mine, his expression thoughtful. “My primary directive is to ensure your well-being. Whether I feel warm or not likely wouldn’t affect that goal.”

I nodded, even though I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like. What would it be like if Ender’s skin felt warm when he touched me? The thought lingered longer than I expected, a warmth spreading through me at the idea of his hand feeling soft and human. Would that change how I felt about him? Or maybe, how he feels about me? My pulse quickened slightly, and I pushed the thought aside before it could dig too deep.

We sat down on the couch, and I changed the subject. “So… any progress on deciding on a hobby?” I teased, leaning back into the cushions.

Ender gave me that familiar, almost amused look. “I’ve considered several possibilities, but I remain uncertain. If you have any suggestions…”

I shook my head, laughing softly. “That’s still a directive, Ender. You’ll have to figure it out for yourself if you want it to be a real hobby.”

He blinked, tilting his head slightly. “A valid point. I will continue to evaluate my options.”

The quiet settled between us comfortably, and I found myself relaxing more with each passing minute. Then, almost as an afterthought, I added, “Therapy went well too.”

Ender turned his attention back to me. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Yeah, Angie suggested I share some things with you. Stuff I haven’t really talked about yet.” I paused, looking at him thoughtfully. “But honestly, I didn’t want to because… well, you have opinions.”

I meant it as a joke, but Ender’s expression shifted, becoming more serious. “Opinions?”

“Yeah, you know—like your opinions on vampires. You get so worked up about the biting techniques and how the characters should feel.” I laughed, shaking my head. “It’s not exactly judgment-free.”

Ender’s brow furrowed slightly, his expression thoughtful. “Those opinions are… for entertainment purposes.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Entertainment?”

“Yes,” he replied, and then hesitated for a moment. “I did not realize it at first, but my commentary on the vampire show is… fun. A form of… humor.”

I blinked, surprised by the realization myself. “Huh. So you’re saying all those vampire critiques are just for fun?”

He nodded, slowly. “Correct. However, if you were to share your personal experiences, I would never apply such opinions to that. My purpose is to support you, not to undermine or disrespect you.”

A warmth spread through me at his words, something deeper than just appreciation. “Thanks, Ender. That means a lot.”

“I want you to know,” he continued, his voice steady, “if or when you choose to share, I will listen, and I will treat your words with the seriousness they deserve.”

I smiled, feeling the tension ease from my shoulders. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

The quiet settled again, but it felt different now—more comfortable. Ender, with all his unexpected opinions and strange humor, had somehow managed to assure me in a way I hadn’t even known I needed.

As the quiet lingered between us, I leaned back, letting the tension from earlier dissolve into the comfortable rhythm of our conversation. It wasn’t often I let myself feel this settled, but with Ender, it was easy. He didn’t judge, didn’t press—he was just there, steady, and dependable.

I glanced over at him, my voice soft. “You know, I don’t think I say it enough… but I really appreciate you. Not just for helping me out, but… for being here.”

Ender’s head tilted slightly, his gaze focused, as if he was processing the sentiment. “Your appreciation is noted, Seren,” he replied, and then, after a pause, added, “It is mutual.”

I blinked at that. Mutual? “You… appreciate me?”

Ender’s expression didn’t change, but there was something in his tone—a shift, maybe. “Yes. Your well-being is my priority, and ensuring it brings me… a certain satisfaction.”

I smiled at that, though something inside stirred uncomfortably—maybe because it felt like there was more beneath the surface that neither of us were quite ready to unpack.

A chime from my phone broke the quiet, and I reached for it, glancing at the message. Theo had sent a quick update about our project meeting tomorrow, but it didn’t require a response right away. I set the phone back down and sighed, letting the silence settle again.

Ender seemed to sense the shift in my mood. “Are you feeling anxious about tomorrow’s meeting?”

I shook my head. “Not really. I actually feel… good about the project. The group’s really solid.”

“That is positive progress,” Ender observed, his tone carrying that familiar, calm reassurance. “You are integrating well.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I guess I’m just… trying to adjust to all these changes. It’s a lot, you know?”

Ender’s gaze softened. “Change can be challenging. But you are capable, Seren.”

Something about the way he said that, the quiet conviction in his voice, made me feel like I could believe it. I offered him a small smile, grateful for the reassurance I hadn’t realized I needed.

As the conversation lulled again, I leaned my head back, closing my eyes. The quiet felt different now—not the heavy, uncomfortable silence I used to feel in the past, but something soothing. Something I could live with.

Ender remained beside me, the steady presence that had become so much more than just functional.