Predecessor (Connor x Reader)

17 - Built to Break

Eventually, the storm inside you softens. Your breathing slows, your shoulders ease.

You're still pressed against him when you speak again—barely a whisper.

"Don't let them take this from me."

You don't even know what this is. Your life. Your freedom. This moment. Him. But he doesn't ask. Doesn't need to.

"They won't," he says.

His voice is low and sure—like a promise, even if he can't explain how he knows. You tilt your head slightly, just enough to see his face. His eyes are focused on you—not scanning, not measuring. Just seeing you.

"You believe that?" you ask, quieter still.

"I believe you," he says.

Something flickers in your chest at that. The thunder outside falls further behind the flash, and the rain begins to soften, as if exhaling.

And then, like something clicks back into place, you take a breath and gently step back.

"Wow," you murmur, wiping under your eyes with your sleeves. "That was... a lot."

You give a weak laugh, almost surprised by your own voice. "Sorry to dump that on you."

Connor blinks. "I didn't mind. It's okay."

You let out a small, breathy laugh, even as your face heats. "Good. Because I definitely can't put that back in the bottle."

"Should you want to?"

"I don't know. Ask me when I'm sober." You shake your head, smiling despite yourself. "God, this is gonna be mortifying tomorrow."

"I'll remind you gently."

"Oh, you would."

The room feels warmer now. Easier. The worst of the storm has passed, and what's left is something closer to light.

But the fear hasn't gone. It's settled lower in your chest now—less like panic, more like a shadow that won't leave. As far as you know, Cyberlife could be watching you right now.

You peer out the window, as if the truth might be hiding in plain sight. But the rain is all that moves and a few lights dimming in the distance.

Then you glance at him. He's still standing nearby, watching you with that calm, unreadable expression. Like he's waiting to see what you need next.

You hesitate.

It's not fear, not exactly. Just the load of it—how much it would mean to ask. How much it would mean if he said yes.

It's not because you don't know what you want—it's saying it out loud that's different. Asking for it is different.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. The words stick, caught somewhere between your throat and your ribs. You hesitate, pulse quickening.

You shift your weight slightly, testing the words in your mind before finally letting them out.

"Would you... stay? Just for the night."

It feels huge, asking that. Not because you can't handle being alone—but because now, maybe for the first time, you don't want to.

Connor doesn't flinch. "Yes."

Like it was never even a question.

You nod slowly, the breath you've been holding finally slipping out. It's subtle, but it shifts something.

He glances around the room, then back to you. "It's late. You should try to get some sleep. You have work tomorrow."

You huff a soft laugh—tired more than amused. "Heard that from you before." Then you nod, almost without thinking. "Yeah. Sleep."