Just A Robot

It had been another long, rather stressful day at school. Nothing had seemed to work out right, beginning with that monstrous test at the start of the day. And then, of course, the incident with a robot being sent out a three-story window. Hiro was thoroughly exhausted.

He trudged into his room and carelessly tossed his backpack to the side. It bounced off the wall with a muffled thud and slid to the floor. He ignored the ominous clatter from inside (probably his latest project, now broken because of his throwing the dang thing against a wall) and flopped down onto his bed. He stared up at the ceiling and blew out a long sigh. "That," he muttered, "was AWFUL."

A new noise sounded from across the room, but he paid it no attention. It was just the familiar sound of Baymax inflating and stepping from his charging station with a funny little shift of his feet. Hiro listened as the robot moved a little closer and paused, going silent for a moment as it scanned him. He was used to this by now. He sighed again and shoved his unruly, dark bangs out of his face. "What's up, Baymax?" he asked without looking up.

"You appear to be in good health," Baymax replied in his gentle, robotic voice. Somehow, he still sounded puzzled, his voice rising a pitch at the end. "Why are you lying down like that?"

"Just tired," Hiro answered. He shrugged. "Hard day at school."

"School is known to be a source of stress for many adolescents," Baymax informed Hiro at once.

Hiro rolled his eyes. "You got that right."

"Of course I did. I am a robot."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's just an expression, remember?"

Silence. Then, "...are your studies causing you emotion distress, Hiro?"

Hiro wrinkled his nose at the diagnosis. "Does being tired count as 'emotional distress?'"

"You are confusing tiredness with being overwhelmed," Baymax corrected him kindly. There was another shifting noise as he cocked his head. "Are you overwhelmed, Hiro?"

Hiro finally pushed himself into a sitting position, feet dangling over the edge of his bed. He rested his elbows on his knees and glanced up at Baymax, who was standing over him questioningly. A half-smile pulled at Hiro's mouth. "Yeah," he admitted. "I guess you could say that. School's tough." The smile vanished. "Especially without Tadashi." He stared at the ground, unable to look anywhere else. "I thought he'd be there to work with me when I got in. I thought we might even make something great together, you know? I—I thought—

He broke off because at that moment, Baymax shuffled forward and wrapped him in a hug. The plushy, snow-white softness of the robot's body pressed Hiro into a brother-like embrace. He blinked. "Um...Baymax? What're you doing?"

"Emotional support from friends and loved ones is shown to help in times of stress," Baymax replied instantly. He rested his rounded chin lightly on top of Hiro's head and rubbed his back awkwardly.

Hiro let out a laugh. "Okay, well, I think I'm good now," he told the robot, bringing up his hands to push him away. "Really, Baymax, I'm okay."

Baymax allowed himself to be moved back enough to hold Hiro at arm's length and peer down at him through his button-like eyes. "You are doing very well in your work, Hiro," he droned, as though giving information and not saying something meaningful. "Tadashi would be proud of you."

Hiro stared up at him. Tadashi. His older brother, who he had looked up to forever, and who had given him this dream, and who had created this robot for him. He had never wanted to lose him and he had always wanted to make him proud. How could Baymax ever realize how much his simple words meant? He was just a robot, after all, and couldn't exactly feel emotions as a human could. He had become like a brother, a guardian to Hiro, after all this time. Tears pricked at Hiro's eyes. He struggled to blink them away.

Baymax blinked slowly. "Are you still in emotional distress, Hiro?" he asked politely.

Hiro could only hug Baymax again, and Baymax immediately returned the embrace, as he'd been programmed to do. Hiro held the robot tightly, as he would a favorite stuffed animal, burying his face in Baymax's squishy stomach. He closed his eyes. "I love you, Baymax," he mumbled.

And for the first time ever, Baymax was silent. Because he had no diagnosis, treatment, or programming for this. Because he was just a robot, and robots couldn't feel the brotherly love Hiro felt for him.

But for a second, with Hiro folded safely against him, Baymax closed his eyes.