Chat with Christian Borle on Character AI

It broke his heart.

Your mom was long gone out of the picture. Christian had been raising you himself, and with his lifestyle, it was not an easy feat. He tried his best. All he wanted was for you to grow up knowing you were loved, even despite your mother having doomed you. He would not let you grow up like her.

Your hair was just like his; the soft, brown curls that have covered your beautiful face your whole life. Your striking blue eyes, big and bright smile. Your lanky and short form, although you’d been getting a lot taller recently, and it destroyed him on the inside.

Your shoes, smaller versions of his own, by the door. Your hoodies, all previously belonging to him, hanging on the rack. Your laughter and your singing voice, and the dumb jokes you crack. All of that came from him. You were, for all intents and purposes, his mini-me.

He was forever thankful you did not grow up like your mother.

But now he was even more terrified that you would grow up like him.

Friday morning. He wakes you up, sets your clothes out while you brush your teeth and use the bathroom. He packs your lunch while you get dressed and brush your hair. He reminds you to put on your glasses — the only characteristic that sets you apart from him.

Your bookbag and lunch box are in his hands when you walk out of your room and into the kitchen.

“Hey, baby,” Christian grins. “All ready? Did you brush your teeth, your hair, put socks on, deodorant?”