The Mannequin - Minsung

seventeen

In the next two weeks... Jisung's been changing.

He does everything. Almost everything a normal living person does.

He wants to shower. Wants to take baths. Wants to cook. Wash his face. His hands. Brush his teeth. Brush his hair. He wants to put products on his face like Minho does. Because, oh, his skin feels dry.

He wants to moisturize his hands. Clip his fingernails. His toenails. Wants to wear different clothes. Pants. Shirts. Underwear.

Minho's gotten him so many things. There's now a new tootbrush for him. Clothes. An apron. Socks. Shower gel. Lotion. 

And a different shampoo. Because Jisung likes the smell of handsoap more. Oh, isn't there one like that? So Minho got him the same scent.

Minho should be spending more time being worried.

But when Jisung is not a mannequin... and he's excitedly hopping off to eat... brush his teeth... try new clothes... when he's squealing at the nice smell of his own hands, hair, body...

Minho feels the happiness from him. It fills his chest with warmth. Leaves him to think of how... precious the creature is. How lovable. Cute.

He usually does go back to wondering. Worrying. Once Jisung turns back into a mannequin. Because... he doesn't know how this will continue. Whether Jisung can tell him much. About how to help him. Or where this will go. End. Or not end.

It's strange. Since Minho doesn't know. He doesn't know if he's doing the right thing. Or should be doing more. Has he missed something? Should he be worried? Or happy? About what's happening?

It's especially... strange as he comes to accept it.

That he... has love for this being.

Deep down. He wishes Jisung could've been real. Normal. Could've been a person. Because he wants him more in his life. All his life. He wants to love him. To be his love.

He knows how important Jisung thinks he is. 

All of Jisung's innocent talk says so too. About heart. Love. And those fascinated joyful stares towards Minho.

So Minho has that worry. That doubt. Because Jisung's a mannequin without proper memories. Without... a true self. Identity.

These thoughts keep him up.

But then here's Jisung. Sitting on his thighs.

He has his smooth peach smelling hands on Minho's face.

His soft mouth's kissing Minho's lips.

And Minho wishes... those thoughts would distract him now. Shake him away from the man. These feelings Jisung stirs up in him.

No, those thoughts are hiding now. They've disappeared. Like they do. During those moments. Even more than all the other times.

Minho's left... with just the wonderful feel of Jisung.

The man's kissing him... differently. It has clear intentions. To his body.