{ Connor RK800 } | DBH | Imagines & Oneshots

{ h e a v e n ; }

The snow contrasted harshly against Connor's hair, against his jacket. It melted upon coming into contact with the warm air from your apartment. You gave him a quick hug before asking how work was.

"Gavin was being ... inconsiderate, as usual." You rolled your eyes before settling back down underneath your fuzzy blanket, watching as Connor joined you on the couch.

It was just a few moments of silence as you snuggled up to Connor, allowing your head to rest on his chest. You smiled as you heard his thirium pump beat, circulating his life-force throughout his body. It was a calming sort of feeling.

You felt blissful, at peace. Like you were finally exactly where you belonged, in Connor's grasp, sitting next to him. Since the beginning of your relationship, the feeling was miniscule, but now, it was suffocating.

You knew just the word for it – Heaven.

"Do you believe in heaven, Connor?" you asked sweetly, leaning your head back a little bit just to see his face. It was calm, you watched as the LED flickered yellow before switching to it's calm counterpart.

"Androids don't tend to have a religion, and neither do I. Hence, I do not believe in heaven."

"So that's the only heaven you think exists?" you tilted your head, frown present on your face. Connor's eyes seemed to scan the room, looking everywhere but into yours.

"What else would heaven be?"

. . . . . .

Connor smiled to himself as he watched you adjust your blanche scarf. In contrast, your cheeks and the tip of your nose were rosy, affected by the low temperature. You moved your scarf to sit under your chin, and Connor tilted his head.

"That's not where you would place a scarf for maximum warmth," he asserted. You smiled back at him, before sticking your tongue out and lifting your chin up.

You began to jump on your heels, moving your head around wildly as you tried to catch snowflakes. Just as you gave up, one landed right on your tongue, and he laughed to himself as he watched you go cross-eyed trying to look at it.

Albeit the frigid environment, Connor felt a fuzzy, warm feeling grow inside his throat, inside his stomach and surrounding his thirium pump. It was an unusual sort of feeling, one that he had yet to experience until this day. As fresh as it was, as new, it was familiar.

All Connor knew was that he wanted it to last, and he smiled as he realized the source, the cause. You were the one who had gathered your human warmth and fed it to him. You were the reason Connor felt so unmistakably alive, and you were the reason he would keep feeling that way.

"Does heaven exist now?"

. . . . . .

The cerulean color of Connor's LED was the only source of light in the dark bedroom. It shone on your hair, glowing in the light like bioluminescence in the deep sea. The street lights in the distance continued to flicker against the pitch black night.

He could see the snow falling still, and everything was peaceful. The lights of Detroit slowly dimmed, one by one, and the city began to sleep. Connor looked back down to you, his warmth, his light.

Your body temperature was low, and Connor squeezed your waist harder, shifting his weight and augmenting his heat levels just to accommodate your needs. Your head buried deeper into his chest, and he could feel your exhale against his bare synthetic skin.

The miniscule movement brought the fuzzy feeling front and center in Connor's systems, and he felt a new one added as well. It felt nauseating, close to anxiety or fear. Perhaps he was scared – scared that one day, you might not be here to love him.