That was the problem with having a robotic memory. He could never forget anything.
Sure, he could just permanently delete it from his memory banks, but that seemed cruel and clinical.
So he had no choice but to remember everything, every smile, laugh, conversation, embrace.
He could remember it all in crystal clear clarity, as if it had just happened.
It wasn't only the good things he remembered either, he could remember the occasional fights, the way his voice broke when he cried.
He could remember hair greying, face wrinkling and eyes dimming.
He could remember with horrifying detail the day he had gone to rouse him from sleep, only for him not to wake.
Not to stir and beg for five more minutes in that adorable sleepy voice.
He could remember the ceremony, it was beautiful. He'd have liked it, had he been alive to see. The body, still beautiful even in old age, lying in the blue satin lined casket, smiling serenely.
Clear didn't know what he'd been dreaming of when he took his last breaths, but he liked to think it had been a good dream. Surely it must have been, for him to have that expression of serene quiet on his face
And as he sat in their shared dining room, staring at the absent chair opposite, artificial tears streaming down his cheeks. He could see the blue haired boy sat opposite him, eating the doughnuts Tae had taught him to make, licking sugar from his lips and complimenting their fluffy texture.
He wished, no, longed, for the day when he could no longer remember.
When the memories that bought such joy and such pain, would be gone from his mind and he could start living again.
Maybe he'd find someone else, another person he could watch grow, wither and die.
He didn't think he could stand that.
He didn't think he could stand it.
There was nobody left now, everybody he'd known had died long before, he had outlived them all.
He took a deep breath of air he didn't need, walked to their bedroom where the smell of him still lingered. He laid down on the bed, facing the ceiling, and prepared himself for what he knew he must do.
he couldn't die, he was a robot, he knew that all too well. But he could stop existing, fall into an imaginary realm where he was still alive, blue hair shining in the sunlight and amber eyes looking at him with such joy.
He gripped the handle of the knife tightly, holding it by his ear, where the hearing had never returned.
He knew what he had to do.
"I love you, Aoba-san."