An eerie silence settled between Zima and I, though I couldn't quite figure out why. He wasn't talking much and I found him to be on the surprisingly quiet sound - rather unusual for someone usually so chatty.

He's been this way for a while now - namely, since that girl found her "someone just for her."

I feel like I've been my usual self. Lately, my 'usual self' is trying to coax out of him the reason why he's been so upset; of course, he's kept everything to himself and offered me no insight. When I ask, he'll turn his head, smile as though everything is alright, and then pull me to him, kissing my nose, cheeks forehead.. Anywhere he can place his lips. (Come to think of it, why doesn't he do that more often?)

A part of me thinks that maybe Zima is doing this to mess with my software, to confuse me. His programming is top notch, the best (possibly better than mine, though he'd never hear those words out of my lips!) But I can't look past that for as much as Zima likes to tease and toy with me, he doesn't usually act so melancholy whilst doing so.

At least, I think melancholy would be the word. What do him or I know about emotions, especially those pertaining to joy or sadness?

It's daytime now, and we're sitting on the roof. I'd like to say we're 'lazying about,' but really, we aren't. We never have time to be lazy, whatever that really is. Zima looks like he's trying to relax, but he's doing an awful job of it. I'm watching him, ignoring the commands in my programming that are telling me I've got a job to do and babysitting Zima isn't really one of them. (Programming be damned, Zima is more important to me than any software orders.)

I'm crawling over to him, trying to be silent, but find that my boots make crunching noises on the ice left from the snowfall from last night. For a moment, I think that the snow my seep into my shoes, might make my toes cold - then I remember that I don't know what cold is. If anything, my concern should be the liquid somehow seeping into my programming.

In any case, Zima doesn't seem to notice the ice crunching, my movements to him, or that I was contemplating feelings we don't have. He barely blinked when I slid onto his lap. He hardly moved when I pressed my hands to his chest, when my eyes looked up to find his.

And he sure as hell didn't notice when I pressed my body against his, burying my face into his neck. I almost nipped at his neck, but I don't think he would've noticed.

But even he couldn't ignore when I tugged on his rat-tail. He finally wrapped his arms around my waist, sighing to himself all the while.

"Zima," I said to him, using a childish voice. "What's wrong?" He started back at me for a moment before pulling my face to his, our noses touching.

"Dita, love..." he finally said after a few moments of silence.

"Yeah?"

"I- ah, no, nothing."

It irked me the way he cut himself off. It irked me that he wouldn't tell me what was on his mind. But most of all, it irked me that he didn't feel he could be honest and open about what was running through his wires. I wanted him to say a complete sentence, not a fragment of a thought.

I flipped myself, my back to his chest. He barely seemed to notice, though his arms around me tightened slightly. I twisted my arm around his neck, finding his rat-tail again and this time bringing it front to play with the strands. I wondered, not for the first time, what persocom hair was made of. Real hair? Fibers? When I stopped pondering for a moment, I looked back at Zima. I was rather surprised to see him looking directly at me, for once.

"Zima! I know there's something on your mind! Dammit, why won't you tell me?" I tugged harder on his rat-tail for emphasis.

He took it back from me, pushing it behind him. Kissing my cheek, and now an inch away from my lips, he said, "Dita, love, what do we do now?"

I listened to his question in silence, debating what he meant. His words could be interpreted in many ways. "What do you mean?"

"Dita, what do we do now? The girl has found her 'someone just for her' and I have you, and you me, but what do we do now?" he replied. I couldn't help but be grateful that he was giving me full sentences for once. About time, if I do say so. I thought about how to answer him, toying with some words in my head.

I pulled around so I was now facing him. I pushed him down on the ground, his back to the snow as I hovered above him. I pressed a finger to his chest and said, "Zima, is that what's been bothering you? What we're going to do with our lives now?"

He didn't answer me, instead pressed down on my back to push us closer together once more. I tried to pull away, but in the end, he won and I stayed there, defeated. "Zima, does it really matter?"

"Yes," he responded sharply, curtly, catching me off guard. I was finding I wasn't too fond of Zima acting like this.

I sighed, loudly, and said, "We're persocoms, we can do whatever we want. I still have to protect you and you still have to hold all the information. Nothing has changed all that much, you know."

"Except that my Dita has learned to blush," he responded so calmly I could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Shut up!" I snapped. It was as though my programming understood him; although I couldn't feel embarrassment, I was certain there was added color to my face now. I moved to get off of him, but instead he sat up after me. Once more, I found myself in his lap. I turned away from him, facing the roof and its snow again.

My humiliation seemed to have brightened him up for a moment, a smile on his lips, just for me. A silence settled between us again, but this time it didn't feel so tense or awkward. It felt almost like before, with the two of us no longer on edge. My attention was waning, however; my eyes were wandering around the rooftop, a little in awe at how soft the snow looked.

Zima spoke up after a bit, breaking the silence. "Dita, is that all we do? Just hold information and do as we're told?"

"That ishow we're programmed," I said, perhaps a little too robotically. "To do as we're commanded."

"And then some," he added.

"Eh?"

"Well, we do other things that haven't been programmed into us," he started, and I knew he wanted me to continue. Acting in private is one thing - saying it aloud is another thing entirely. When I didn't respond to his statement, he continued on.

"For instance, just like how I'm the only one that can hold you without you breaking down, or maybe it's just you won't let anyone else hold you?"

"Shut up," I mumbled, picking up snow in my hand and scattering it around, tossing some on Zima's pants.

He smiled again, kissing my cheek, my jawline, peppering kisses near my neck. I leaned back into him, purposely molding our bodies together.

He didn't try to stop me (when did he ever?), which was nice because I don't think my ego could've handled another moment of embarrassment. He rested his head on my shoulder, and for a while we stayed like that, till darkness came and seemed to be beckoning us to sleep. Of course, night can't really lull us to sleep, and technically we can't anyway. He mumbled to me, "Dita, why not rest? I'll watch over you."

I decided to take him up on his offer. I knew I'd be safe in his arms, another thing I'd never admit. Moments before I felt my system go into sleep mode, I heard his voice murmur, "What would I do without her?"