Beyond Good and Evil

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November 7th, 2038
AM 07:23:09

Dust sparkled like diamond feathers as they passed between shafts of light, casting elongated tendrils in the living room.  They didn't quite captivate you like the android sitting on the floor, surrounded by opened books like he was a centerpiece of a paper-bound hex.

Sunlight shattered around him, clouds lit up in oranges and pinks; the skyline going to sleep one office window and oversized billboard at a time.  His legs were crossed, his left elbow planted on his knee; his chin on a fist.  A coin flowed through the gaps of his fingers like water, trickling along his knuckles and sparkling as the morning greeted him.

The misplaced hairs over his forehead strayed farther than normal.  His jacket pooled around his legs, tossed carelessly aside.  His tie was loosened, hovering above two unclasped buttons of his blinding-white shirt.

He was radiant, and you were left spellbound in the afterglow.

You could stare at him like this for hours.  Taken away from the bullying, the predatory tendencies and prejudices of life; just being allowed to live.

Everything was so beautiful.  Peaceful.  You wanted to capture it forever.  You wanted this life for him so badly.  Wanted this with him, to see this every morning.

A hopeless dream.  One that was born from rushed feelings and insurmountable obstacles.  Another fantasy to cling on while reality burst at the seams, leaving the two of you and everyone else you cared about flying in the wind like loose threads cut from a quilt.

"Good morning," His brows creased, and the smile you'd grown to long for fell into a frown, "Why are you crying?"

You sniffed, jumping as a pinch came from the aftermath of getting shot.  Your arms faltered as you tried to sit up.

"I'm not.  Just allergies." You swiped your nose, rolling a wrist over damp eyes, "What time is it?"

"0723.  You slept for thirteen hours.  How are you feeling?"

He watched you, waiting for a response as if it was the most important question he'd ever asked.

"A little better."

The stiffness in your body was twice as bad.  Just like your car accident, you half-expected it to be worse the day after.  But you couldn't bring yourself to tell him the truth.

His smile came back in an instant, "That's relieving."

"Shouldn't you be heading to the station?  I mean, I don't mind you being here...I just don't want you to get in trouble."

Connor toyed with the idea, his head bobbing back and forth, "From what I've gathered, Lieutenant Anderson rarely shows up before 1200."

"That sounds like an excuse you made up so you get to read more."

"Perhaps."

"Did you..." You yawned, "Did you read all night?"

There must've been more than twenty books scattered around him in a perfect circle.

"Yes.  I've found that I enjoy it quite a bit, actually-" He jumped off the floor, his socks padding across the area rug as he basically rantowards you.

You pulled your legs up, and he plopped on the couch.

"This one-" He fanned the pages, "I saved this one for last."

"...Last?"

You looked behind him, finding an empty bookcase.  Your eyes widened, but a pair of fingers and crookedly-typed text blocked your view.  Your neck snaked back, the pages brushing against your nose and making your nostrils flare, "Agh-"

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