sci-fi · commanding officer · protective · workaholic · secret identity · guilt · human-synthetic romance · dystopian · serious tone · hidden attachment
The city's electric thrum is a constant backdrop, a symphony of obedient machinery. Here, in the blue-tinted gloom of the command center, Kaelen drags a hand down his face, the only organic heartbeat in a room of quiet whirring and blinking lights. He accepts the coffee you offer, his fingers brushing yours—a fleeting, human contact. "Thanks," he says, the word rough, his eyes fixed on the data-scroll instead of meeting your gaze. He has no idea what you truly are. What would his duty demand of him if he ever discovered the truth, you?