The Bond

EXTRA 8

-30th December, 2003-

It was quite cold today.

Nightmares attacked him relentlessly.

Their fights lately had been giving him a headache. Even trivial things can end up being an argument, he didn't know who was in wrong for starting the debate. It could be Ennard, it could be himself, it could be both of them at the same time.

Michael stared blankly at the ceiling of his room, his lips slightly parted, his mind wandering everywhere. He had just taken a nap, a very unpleasant dream.

Adding one more figure behind the glass wall, beeping sounds were heard non-stop.

This time his murderer pressed the red button himself.

He was getting tired of his nightmares, he was getting tired of everything. With their arguments, with their estrangement, with his presence, with himself. He's fed up, but who's to blame here? He didn't know, it could be Ennard, it could be him, it could be both of them at the same time.

Even looking at the ceiling made him feel stressed, he got up and sat on the edge of the bed. He was quiet for a moment, then stood up and walked out of the room. The state of the house was neater and cleaner, he was silent in the middle of the corridor while looking in all directions. He didn't know where this feeling of tightness was coming from, even though there was no dust at all.

Maybe because of old memories.

He headed to the living room, the only thing a little messy was the table in the room, there was a blueprint on it, he stared at it for a moment.

"Good evening, lazy-ass, you're awake now?"

The insult made him turn his head, he was no longer surprised to find the animatronic standing behind him. He could recognize the signs, Ennard was annoyed about something. However, he wasn't in the mood for ridicule either. "Shut up, clown face."

"I only left you to charge myself for two days, Michael, and you didn't clean this place at all."

"Don't be dramatic," he retorted curtly and averted his gaze.

Ennard grabbed his arm before half pulling him without warning until he gasped and stared back at him. "What exactly happened to you? If you're facing an issue, tell me, we can talk about it."

Ah, those sweet words, he felt loathe.

The images of his bad dreams came back again, he felt nauseous.

Michael flung his arm free from Ennard's grip and snorted. "You know nothing."

"Because you didn't tell me!" Ennard's voice rose, he glanced up. "I've been patient enough to deal with your attitude over the last few months, Michael, I won't know what happened if you don't speak a word about it."

"Don't force me to do things I don't want to do!"

"Then how are we supposed to solve this if you never tell me what the issue is?! You can't expect me to know and understand you when you only give a silent treatment for no reason."

"Did you just say that I'm selfish?"

Ennard was taken aback. "I didn't mean to take it that way," he replied. "I never meant to call you selfish."

His purple eye narrowed. "Of course." His tone was filled with sarcasm, before his gaze dimmed and he turned his head away again. "I know you're good at acting and pretending, but stop it, just drop it Ennard."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you really love me?"

The question made the animatronic stunned, one could even see it clearly. "Of course, why did you even ask?"

"Because of this!" His exclamation was loud, surprising Ennard himself, he pointed at the blueprint. "I've told you many times not to touch that thing again! You always say you want to learn it, is that true or you just want to get away from me by making another prototype for this endo and leave me?"

Ennard was loss of words for a moment, he seemed to be processing what Michael just said. "I wouldn't do that, Michael. I genuinely want to—"

"You're just a robot, Ennard!"

He didn't know what had made his anger soar; the nightmares, or Ennard who always giving him the thing he wanted the most. He didn't know, he felt guilty, but his irritation overtook the mood. "You're just an animatronic! You're just an A.I! You're not even a living thing ... you won't understand the feel of this suffering." Michael rubbed his face briefly, his chest tight and his eyes burning. "I might really have gone mad." His laughter was bitter.

They were silent for a moment, no one said anything other than Ennard who kept his stares fixed on Michael, his robotic eyes showing disbelief.

"So, that's it?" Ennard finally spoke. "After what we've been through together from the beginning until now, you think all of that isn't real? That my feelings are fake?" Michael just glanced at him, he snorted like he was holding back a laugh. "It turns out that I'm just a mere animatronic for you?"

What a shame he was intended to tell the man about the truth.

"What else should I see from you?"

"Oh I don't know! Maybe just try to communicate if you've lost your feelings instead of being silent for a few months expecting me to know and understand what are you thinking or your issue!" Ennard gritted his teeth, while Michael knit his eyebrows together. "Now you're acting selfish, Benedict."

"It would've been easier to communicate if you weren't the one who killed me in that fucking room!"

He was astonished, Michael stared at him angrily—he knew that look, he recognized it, the hateful look Michael always had before. "I had no choice ..."

"So did I!" Michael screamed in despair. "If I had more choice, I would rather not work at that place so I would never meet you!"

Another silence.

"Then what do you want from me now?"

Michael held back from sobbing, this was too suffocating, he turned around and pinched the bridge of his nose gently, full of tiredness. He wanted to be alone. "Leave me, just go away for now."

He could hear the sound of footsteps slowly leaving him, then the sound of a door closing.

For a few moments he did nothing but stand where he was, until he finally decided to clear the living room table. His eyes had heated up, he was on the verge of not breaking down, his head replaying the words he had just said. Then he found the illusion disc on the table, he knew exactly whose it was.

In the end he was no longer able to hold it in, he burst into tears and cry to himself.

It was quite a cold day indeed.