Jacksepticeye Imagines

Brighton: Become Human (1)

Word count: 1530

You sat at your desk in the small studio with large windows lining the walls. You might have been embarrassed to still be living at your father's house at twenty-three years old if he wasn't so adamant on making you stay. You didn't make enough money to afford a decent apartment, and your dad loved having you around, especially after your mom died three years ago.

Your dad was a famous author with many popular books. You supposed that was how he was able to afford this large house. When you weren't playing chess with your old man or helping him write realistic characters (sometimes even making illustrations for him), you would draw commissions and make some for fun. From 8 AM to 2 PM you would work at the paint shop downtown.

At 7:43 in the morning, you went upstairs to tell your dad you were leaving for work. He went ahead and got out of bed with a long stretch, wishing you a good day at the shop. You jogged back downstairs and slipped on your shoes, grabbing your coat in a hurry. You pulled on your coat as you walked quickly across the street.

-----

You got home a little late. The clock read 2:35 when you stepped through the door. Your eyes were focused on the ground, deep in thought, as you shed your coat and scarf. You clumsily missed the coat rack, your jacket falling to the door. You snorted to yourself and squatted to pick it up.

When another hand reached for the jacket, you fell back screaming, your back hitting the wall. You locked eyes with an Android with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. Your dad walked through the doorway with wide eyes as the Android stood, hanging your jacket where you meant to. Your dad approached you with a light smile on his face. He held his hand out and you took it, using his arm to stand up.

"Are you gonna explain?" you asked, awkwardly shifting your weight.

"Well," your father's rough voice drew out. "I thought it wasn't fair, making you do the housework after you come home from work, then slave over your art for hours."

"But Dad," you interrupted. "You let me live here so-"

"No back talk, Missy," he sassed with a small smile. "This Android here can do the housework. Besides. . . An old man gets a little lonely while you're away." He gave the machine a pat on the back.

You decided you wouldn't argue with your father. Not right now. "So, what's his name?"

Your dad glanced at the model number on the Android's shirt. "Looks  like it hasn't got one. You can name it, Dear," he said as he turned to go back to his study.

Your turned your attention to the machine. If it wasn't for the LED on his temple and the uniform clearly indicating he was an Android, you would have thought he was human.

"Would you like to give me a name?" he asked, his tone all too formal. That was also a give away that he wasn't human.

"Uh, I guess." You thought for a while. "How's 'Jack' sound to you?"

"Sounds good," he replied. You were unconvinced that he had any real feelings about the name. "My name is Jack."

You nodded to yourself. "Well. . . I'm gonna be in my studio," you pointed towards the room absentmindedly.

"What should I do?"

"Uh, I don't know. Whatever you want, I guess." His head cocked slightly to the side. Could he not function without instructions? "On second thought, follow me."

It felt odd to have someone do as you say. You wondered if Androids felt bad when people were rude to them. So many people didn't bother with manners because they assume Androids couldn't get their feelings hurt. You just wouldn't feel right doing that, so you treated your new housemate like a human.