What Makes Them Human - Detroit: Become Human

Chapter Twelve - A Frozen Lake

"I'm not programmed to do this!" Connor shouts as we step onto the ice. His hands are latched onto me as if the frozen lake is gonna bite. I've never seen him this unsure of something.
"That's why I'm holding your hand."

After the dream that was last night we fell asleep. Well, I did. I don't know what Connor did all night. But this morning I went back down to the basement and looked closer at that snow stuff. This lodge has everything you could want. Beanies, gloves, ice skates, sleds, and scarves. The whole deal.

With the giant frozen lake just outside the place, I figured we could utilize the skates. Why wouldn't we? This is perfect. We bundled up nice and warm, I did but I think Connor just put on the gloves and beanie because he wanted to relate to me. Or maybe he is cold I'm not sure.

Connor is hesitant to even set foot on the lake, although his scans did indeed indicate that it's beyond safe to skate on top of. Ice can hold up to eight hundred pounds when it's just four inches thick. This lake is six inches of pure ice on top. The only danger is the skates themselves.

Growing up I spent a lot of time outside. I learned how to skate pretty well, not enough to do any tricks or impressive maneuvers but just enough to move without falling flat on my face. Although a few times I've slipped beneath the surface. And I've twisted my ankle too many times to count.

"This doesn't seem like a good idea," Connor warns me as we move further away from the bank, his legs are wobbly. He's staring at the ground with wide eyes. Which is the worst thing to do when learning to skate.
"I promise you you're gonna be fine, just follow my lead alright?" I let go of his hand slowly, carefully but I don't move far enough away that I can't catch him.

Without me to lean on he stands still, arms extended and slightly shaky. "Practice falling," I instruct,
"What?" The worry in his voice is endearing. Like a kid seeing their first scary movie, trying to seem grown up by not being scared going in but by the end they've pissed their pants.

"If you think you're gonna fall you should know how to do it without cutting off your hand." People don't realize just how dangerous ice skates are. They're like knives on the bottom of your foot, someone skates over your hand it's coming off. In fact, there was a hockey player not long ago that had his throat slit by a skate.
"What do I do?"
"Squat, and let the skates fly out in front of you." He nods, looking down at his feet with a blank expression that he's almost permanently affixed with.

I place my hand gently on the small of his back, and he flinches. As delicately as I can I push him, moving him forward no more than a foot. Immediately he falls. He squats and listens well. His feet fly out in front of him, scrapping the ice and sending chunks flying across the lake.

He—somewhat dramatically, lies flat on his back. Looking up at the sky.
"I don't like ice skating." He says, I scoff.
"You haven't even skated yet, c'mon." I set out a hand, one he takes without hesitation. Pulling him to his feet I steady his legs.

Seeing him struggle with something is new. Well besides him being a bit messy with sex, I wouldn't say he struggled with it. I keep seeing his face when he finished, eyes shut and mouth open. The small grunts and groans that he just barely made audible. I want to hear that noise again. And again. And again. I want to explore him to the deepest of my desires.

"Try and just glide. A little bit." I tell him,
"I'm afraid." He announces, looking into my eyes in a way I find intoxicating. The look of nothing but trust. The look of promise.
"I'll hold your hand, just follow me." Holding him I start to move. Not a whole lot. But we're gliding. He's just bracing his legs as I pull him in a straight line. His skates like tracks to a rollercoaster. Stuck in place.