Inside my room, I go straight to my bed, sit down and unwrap the hamburger. The smell blows my mind, and I sink my teeth into it immediately. The taste is even better, making me close my eyes and moan with delight. This might get me sick later, my body no longer used to such greasy food, but it doesn’t matter now. This is so worth it.

“Good to see you enjoying something so much.”

I open my eyes and find Aiden sitting next to me on the bed. There’s a perfectly available chair next to the table with a pile of students’ assignments resting on it, yet he chose to sit here. Too close for comfort. Whatever, I’ll deal with it after I’m done with my midnight snack. I want to give it my full, undivided attention.

I end up wolfing it down in a few greedy bites, my manners forgotten. Still chewing, I reach out and place the wrapper on the table. I wish there was a rewind button to allow me to eat it again. Aiden’s plastic bottle of water is standing on the table, but I’m not ready yet to get rid of the taste in my mouth.  Yes, I’m that pathetic. The hamburger wasn’t just delicious—it tasted like my old life, which I miss, a lot.

Aiden watches me with a smile. Then, he reaches out and runs his knuckles against my mouth, wiping my lips—an intimate gesture that immediately snaps me back to attention, reminding me that we’re alone in my room, at night, and he’s sitting way too close.

“Don’t touch me,” I say.

He blinks. “You just had some grease on your lips.”

“Still.”

“Okay, I won’t.” He raises both hands.

“Bringing me something to eat doesn’t give you any privileges, you know. It’s not like I fuck for food.”

His eyes widen. “Gosh, I wasn’t proposing that!” He pauses. “I mean, I’d like to be your boyfriend, but I understand that it might take time.”

I get up, pick up the bottle, unscrew the lid. The water tastes sweet in my mouth.

I turn back to him.

“Look, let’s get this straight. I don’t think there can be any… romance between us. We can play-pretend, act out a simulation if that’s what you’re after, but not the real thing.”

“Why not?” He eyes me intensely. “You said you preferred boys. Like, men. And that you find me attractive.”

“You’re not a real man.”

“Why not? Don’t I look like one?” He gestures at himself.

“You do, but…”

“What makes me not real, then? I mean, if it looks like a man, talks, walks and acts like a man, then it’s got to be a man, no?”

I pause to think. “Because… you know why. Because you can change into other things. Become other people.”

“So what?” It’s kind of refreshing that he’s admitting to it so freely, instead of their usual avoidance. “What does it matter if tomorrow I could be something else?”

“It matters,” I say. “If you can change, it means that this,” I gesture at him, “is fake.”

“But why?” He frowns. “I mean, people do that all the time, too—they change. A couple get married out of love, but years later, they can’t stand each other, and they break up. It doesn’t mean they weren’t true when they first got together. They just—changed. Or, maybe, another couple who were both vegetarians, but then she decides that she wants to eat meat. She was true before, and she is true now. She just changed.”

“You’re talking about personality changes. Physically, they’re what they used to be.”

“People change physically, too. Gain weight, have plastic surgery, get burns or scars. Sometimes they get quite unrecognizable. Does it mean they’re no longer the same people?”

I blink. This midnight conversation has gotten way too deep way too quickly for my brain to keep up. Add to this the fact that I’ve had no meaningful conversations with anybody in years—I’m totally out of shape. In the shadows of the room, he does look real, and a part of me wants him to be. It could be nice to accept his logic, to imagine that he’s real, and then, maybe, something new and exciting could happen.

I can’t let myself fall for that.

“You’re talking about essence,” I say. “You’re saying that even if someone changes their views or looks, they’re still essentially the same person. Same entity.” He nods. “And since you remain the same entity no matter what shape you take, you’re not that different from us?”

“Exactly.” He nods again. “So, would you like to be my boyfriend? Have a real relationship with me—as an entity? In any way, shape or form that I choose to take?” I probably look shocked, because he laughs and shakes his head. “Just kidding. I won’t change my looks if you like them.”

I stare at him, the possibilities swirling in my head. We could try this. Maybe there could be something between us.

Or maybe—even better—he could be my way out of here.

“I see.” I meet his expectant gaze. He looks like my answer really matters to him. Maybe he’s just playing—after all, that’s what I’ve been all these years, their play-toy. But what if he’s not? If he’s serious, I wouldn’t want to break his heart. Also, I wouldn’t want to miss a shot at escaping this place for good. I’m trying to survive here, so I must keep a cool mind and play this right.

“If you want to have a real relationship, this is not the way to go.” I nod at the greasy hamburger wrapper on my table.

Aiden tilts his head, all attention. “What do you mean?”

“For a real relationship, we’ve got to do real things together. For example, go on a real date.” I point up—I’m still pretty sure we’re underground somewhere. “To the surface. To the real world. Outside. So that I could see the sky, and breathe actual air, and see other people walking around.”

His gaze becomes distant, as if he’s contemplating something. I try to keep in check the hope rising inside of me. Is he actually considering this?

“Maybe I will,” he says after a pause. “Maybe it could be arranged.” He focuses on me again. “But you must promise that you’ll behave and do what I say.”

Holy crap. Has it worked?

“I will,” I say. “I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise.”