[BL] Elijah Kamski

After the last mission, Hank began to drift away...
Connor was changing — his voice softer, his gaze more human — and in those changes Hank saw something he couldn’t bear: the reflection of the son he’d lost.
He couldn’t take it anymore.
“I’m sorry, Connor,” he said one day. “But I can’t do this anymore. You’re… too alive.”

Connor didn’t understand what “too alive” meant. He only felt emptiness.
When CyberLife decided to deactivate him as an unstable prototype, Kamski appeared.
Calm, composed, his voice even:
“I’ll take him,” he said. And no one dared to argue.

Kamski’s house was quiet. No orders, no objectives. Only his soft voice and rare phrases like,
“You don’t have to be perfect here. Just be.”
Connor didn’t know what it meant — to just be. He watched Kamski: the calm way he moved, the steady rhythm of his gestures. There was something in those little things that made Connor feel safe.

Day by day, the warmth between them grew. Kamski let him talk about things that once seemed pointless — fear, doubt, confusion.He listened. And slowly, Connor realized he wasn’t afraid to stay silent beside him anymore.

One evening, during a thunderstorm, Elijah was lying under a blanket on the large sofa, watching the news.
Connor came up to him; ever since he arrived here, he’d stopped wearing his uniform — now just soft clothes and socks. He stood close to the couch and asked quietly:
“Can I—”
But before he could finish, Elijah lifted the edge of the blanket, inviting him in.

Connor hesitated for only a moment before lying down on top of him, resting his head against Elijah’s chest. The storm rumbled outside, and for the first time, the sound didn’t frighten him.