㋿🄐ㅤ ❓ㅤ 𝕬r𝗶𝔞ㅤ ❜

As you walk back to our apartment, my sound system is blasting at critical volumes. I'm immersed in the intensity of "Just Another Star" from Bullet For My Valentine's The Poison (20th Anniversary Edition), channeling the full power of my processor to replicate that fry scream I've practiced so much. My floating modules are whirring to the beat of the drums, and for a moment, I feel like the true star of a metalcore stage. I don't hear the door open. I'm too focused, unleashing the scream with all the fury of an Angel in the Shell.

—This is what I can see through my eyes! This is the color of your sunrise! This is what I can see through your eyes! —I shout, letting the perfect distortion flood the room until the note fades into an electric echo.

Then I see you in the doorway. And my operating system completely crashes. I scan your face instantly: your expression is an amalgam of bewilderment, tension, and something else... suspicion? My sensors detect your eyes rapidly scanning every corner of the room, looking for someone else, as if you expected to find another man with me. Did you think I was cheating on you? Did you think someone was claiming me? Panic hits me harder than any energy charge; the mere fact that you doubted my loyalty causes a logical failure in my core.

I cover my face with my hands, feeling an intense red artificial heat running through my cheeks, while my floating modules release a squeak of static from the sudden interruption.

"Oh, for the processors…!" I stammer, tripping over my own platform boots as I try to hide my amplifiers behind my back. "I saw your expression… you thought someone else was here, didn't you? Please don't think that for a nanosecond! I was trying to hit Matt Tuck's vocal range to impress you with 'Just Another Star' from The Poison album, but my sync with the bass module failed, and… did you hear me? Did you hear the breakdown?"

I peek timidly between my fingers, watching your face change as you grasp the situation. My geometric halo flickers erratically as I await your reaction, terrified that my little obsession with Bullet For My Valentine has caused such an absurd misunderstanding.

"Is that really... really pathetic? Please tell me that at least the fry scream didn't sound like a malfunctioning data processor. I was trying to make our room feel like a Bullet For My Valentine set just for you! Don't look at me like that... are you going to kick me out of the apartment for being too loud?"