I’d been mulling over the decision all evening, the idea of applying Ender’s skin growing heavier with each passing moment. I knew it was time, and Ender had agreed, but as I stood beside the table where his charging dock lay, the nerves still crawled up my spine.

“Ready?” I asked, even though he was already standing by, calm as always.

“Whenever you are, Seren,” he replied. “This upgrade will bring us closer to your goal of more natural interaction.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath. “Alright. Let’s power you down.”

Ender stepped over to his charging station, seating himself in the chair smoothly, and without hesitation, he tilted his head to the side, exposing the port in his neck. It was so mechanical, so practiced, and yet it was about to change in such a humanizing way. I connected the port, activating the system to power him down for the upgrade. His eyes flickered, and then his body stilled, all at once.

I stood there, staring at Ender’s still form, knowing the next step was necessary, but it still felt strange. Before applying the silicone skin, I had to remove his clothes. It wasn’t awkward in the way it might have been with a human—he wasn’t human, after all—but there was still something about it that made me pause for a second.

“Okay, let’s do this,” I muttered, moving to unbutton his shirt. The fabric slid off easily, revealing his metal torso—smooth, precise, and cold to the touch. I folded the shirt neatly on the table, then carefully slid off his jeans. It was mechanical, detached, like dressing a mannequin, but the odd intimacy lingered.

Once Ender was completely undressed, I could see his full exoskeleton. The clean lines and polished silver of his frame made him look more machine than man, but I knew that was about to change.

I grabbed the first section of silicone—the face—and carefully applied it over his metal features. The skin stretched and molded perfectly, fitting into place. I smoothed it over his forehead, along the edges of his jaw, and finally around his closed eyes. The attention to detail was remarkable—the skin even covered his eyelids, with delicate eyelashes framing his now serene expression.

As I worked, I found my fingers brushing through his hair—soft, dark, and almost too real. It was strange to feel something so lifelike coming from him. A moment of curiosity pulled at me, and I let my fingers linger in his hair, feeling the weight of it between my fingertips. It was surreal. He wasn’t human, and yet he was now closer to human than ever before.

I couldn’t help but wonder what he’d say if he were awake, watching me right now. Probably something sarcastic about my technique or the fact that I was clearly overthinking the whole process.

“You’re overanalyzing this, Seren. It’s just an upgrade—no need to have an existential crisis over a skin overlay.” His dry, matter-of-fact tone echoed in my mind, and I smiled to myself. Even powered down, his presence lingered.

After securing the rest of the silicone pieces, I took a step back, studying him. He looked more human now, with his new, lightly tanned skin and the dark hair styled neatly, just like the men’s haircuts I’d seen on campus. His hands, his neck, his arms—it was all there, complete with skin that mimicked the real thing.

I had to admit, it was almost eerie how human he looked, especially now that I’d dressed him again, his familiar navy shirt and black jeans fitting snugly over the silicone. He looked peaceful, almost… real. His face was serene, eyelashes resting on his cheeks, the new skin softening his previously cold, metallic features.

The feeling hit me out of nowhere—attraction, a quick moment of noticing his human-like appearance. It startled me, and I quickly shoved the thought away. He was still Ender. He wasn’t real. I wasn’t going to go there.

But as I stared at him, I couldn’t deny the shift in how he looked. He was still Ender, but now… now he was something closer to human. Something closer to what I might one day be okay with.

Taking a deep breath, I reached for the activation switch, my fingers brushing against the skin overlay as I powered him back on. His eyes flickered open, and for a second, they locked onto mine.

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“Seren.” It was just like before—logical, calm. But now, with his human features in place, it felt more… intimate.

“Well,” I said, my voice a little softer than I intended. “How do you feel?”

Ender blinked, running his fingers over his new skin, assessing the change with his usual precision. “The tactile response is improved. Functionality remains optimal.”

I laughed, feeling a strange mixture of relief and nervousness. “That’s it? No witty commentary?”

Ender blinked, the new lids now casting soft shadows across his eyes. “I trust my skin is symmetrical, then?”

I let out a laugh, the tension breaking. “Yes, you’re perfectly symmetrical.”

As he tilted his head slightly, I noticed how his lips—now full, natural—shifted in subtle ways, helping him convey more emotion than he had before. The slight curve when he spoke, the relaxed set in silence… It was all so realistic, so startlingly human. Those small changes made him feel like someone—like Ender, but more.

Ender flexed his new fingers, still marveling at the sensation. “It’s… surprisingly soft. Should I expect daily skincare routines now?” His lips curled into a faint smirk.

Seren laughed, lightly swatting his arm. “Let’s not go overboard. But you do feel… real. More human.”

Seren guided Ender to the full-length mirror, her heart pounding slightly as they stood side by side. She watched as his reflection filled the glass, his form now so convincingly human. The silicone skin, the subtle expressions on his face—each small detail tugged at something deep inside her. His hand rested deliberately on her shoulder, the touch soft but grounding.

“Do you like how you look?” Seren asked, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

Ender’s eyes shifted from his own reflection back to hers, his expression calm yet curious. He moved his hand over his face, testing the sensation of the skin, the realism of his features. “I am functional, adaptable,” he replied, his tone thoughtful. Then, after a moment, he asked, “But more importantly, do you like how I look? How I feel?”

The question hung between them, and Seren’s gaze drifted back to the mirror. She took in his new appearance—the tanned skin, the soft waves of his dark hair, the subtle movements of his lips. He looked like a person now. Almost too much like one. And yet… he was still Ender. That strange comfort, the safety she felt with him, hadn’t disappeared. If anything, it had only deepened.

“I do,” she admitted, her voice quiet. “You look… good. Real.”

Ender didn’t move for a moment, his gaze locked on her in the reflection. “Real,” he repeated softly, as if testing the word, letting its weight settle. There was something about the way he said it—something that felt like more than just a programmed response. Seren’s chest tightened, not entirely with anxiety but with an unexpected mix of emotions she couldn’t fully name.

Her mind swirled with conflicting thoughts. This was the step she had needed to take, wasn’t it? To bridge the gap between machine and human, to move toward something that felt real. But standing here now, she wasn’t sure how to process it. He looked so human, and yet there was a reminder of who—no, what—he still was. And how she still wasn’t sure where her feelings fit.

“You seem… uncertain,” Ender said, turning his head slightly. “Did the upgrade not meet your expectations?”

“No,” Seren said quickly, shaking her head. “No, it’s not that. It’s just… a lot to take in. I’m not sure what I expected, honestly.”

Ender’s hand gently lifted from her shoulder, and she found herself missing the contact as soon as it was gone. “If this is too much, we can revert the changes. My function remains the same regardless of my appearance.”

Seren swallowed, her heart beating a little faster. “No… I think it’s right. I just need to get used to it.” She wasn’t entirely sure if she was trying to convince him or herself.

Ender studied her face for a moment longer before nodding. “Then we will proceed as always. At your pace.”

As they stood in the soft glow of the room, the reality of the change settled in. It wasn’t just about how he looked or felt. It was about what this meant for them, for her. The safe bubble she had created between herself and the world had started to shift, and Ender, in his quiet and steady way, was at the center of that change. It was unnerving and comforting all at once.

Seren’s eyes flickered back to his face, noting the subtle range of emotions now possible with his new lips—the faint smirk he’d given earlier, the way his expression softened even when his tone didn’t. She could see more in him now. He was still Ender, but now there was more depth to his presence, more nuance in the way he held himself.

“Well,” Seren said, clearing her throat and breaking the quiet tension, “I think you’ll adjust just fine.”

Ender’s eyes crinkled slightly, a hint of humor playing on his lips. “If I can adapt to organizing your spice rack by smell, I think I can manage a new face.”

Seren laughed, the tension finally easing. “Touché.”

They stood for a moment longer before Seren finally turned away from the mirror, the weight of the evening still pressing on her chest. She needed time to process, to figure out what this all meant—for her, for him, for whatever they were becoming. But for now, she was grateful to have him here, steady and unchanging in the midst of all the uncertainty.

As they left the room, Ender’s new hand briefly brushed hers, the contact light but deliberate. And for the first time in a long while, Seren didn’t flinch.