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.

So... Minho holds back. He just keeps kissing Jisung. Softly. Gently. He refuses to open his mouth. Even though Jisung gives him light licks. Sucks on his lips. Clings closely to him.

Minho rubs his side. Strokes his hair. The mannequin releases a breath. Drops his head on Minho's shoulder. Hugs his neck.

So cute, Minho thinks. Smiles. Rubs his back soothingly.

His heart is drumming. And if he listens closely... he can feel Jisung's heart is the same. It makes him gulp. Once again, he's reminded. Of Jisung's... existence. He's alive. But not for long...

"Jisung," he says. "It's been almost five hours. You'll be changing soon."

Jisung lifts his head. Minho's heart pounds hard. The mannequin's eyes are hazy. His cheeks are pink. His mouth's red. Beautiful.

"I-I don't know," he breathes.

"You changed yesterday at four," Minho says. "So maybe today you'll go over." He's absently still touching Jisung's even softer hair.

He's got so many feelings. He pecks the mannequin's cheek. Hopes to calm down. Think of something else. But... the mannequin's now looking at his mouth. He sees him gulp. Glance up at him.

"Minho..." He whispers.

"Yes?" His heart's going crazy. Shit.

"Um... I feel weird..."

"Weird? How?"

"L-Like I want... something..."

"Are you still hungry?"

Jisung shakes his head. Hard. His hair gets messy. Minho brushes his strands into place. Pecks his chin.

"No, I want... I want to do something," he says. "I'm not sure what. But it feels like... it will stop. I'll stop feeling like this if I do it..."

Minho... shouldn't have let him sit on his lap. This close. His desire's only building. By listening to his words. He's so... aware... of Jisung's soft body on him. His scent. His gaze.

"Minho..." Jisung says. Gets his attention back. "In... the book I read—"

Minho groans internally. Any mention of 'book' is never good.

"T-They... kissed a little differently..."

Fuck. Minho wants to close the small distance. Kiss him. Exactly how he thinks he wants. "How... did they kiss?"

Jisung licks his own lips. His eyes are hooded. They're staring down at Minho's mouth. Then the tip of his tongue pokes out. He touches Minho's lips with hesitant fingers.

"They... they open their mouths..." His voice is quiet. Almost afraid.

Minho's mind is flooding. "How?" He whispers again. He's mesmerized.

Jisung seems to be too. His eyes move from his mouth. To his eyes. Around his face. To his mouth again. Then he leans in. Kisses him. With parted lips. It's warm. Wet.

Minho feels Jisung's tongue across his lips. He opens his mouth for him. Lets him slip in. A small sweet sound escapes the mannequin.

Minho wraps an arm around his waist. Brings him closer.

He's burning. From holding back.

Thankfully... Jisung pulls away. His eyes are misty. He's staring at Minho's lips. His own lips are pink. They're glistening. Parted. The tip of his tongue's still poking out cutely.

It makes Minho snap. He pushes Jisung. Off his lap. On the couch.

Jisung gasps. Startled. Minho leans over him. Kisses him.

Jisung responds instantly. He's kissing him back.

Minho pulls away, panting. The mannequin is breathless.

So pretty. So fuckable—

Minho sits up. Holds Jisung's hand. Gives it a kiss. A caress. He smiles at the man lying on the couch. "Jisung, I'm sorry! I gotta use the bathroom!" Then he flees. Quickly.

He returns soon. The fresh images of Jisung like that... helped. So it didn't take long. But his mannequin's back in his spot.

It's standing. Stiff. Its eyes are closed.

Minho feels a heavy weight on his chest.

To be continued...

Pls I wanted to try actually writing something mature but I fuCkINg feel like throwing up. And listening to Taste while writing this, doesn't help.