He wasn’t human, she knew that. And yet somehow she couldn’t help but lean into Taemin, his mechanical body giving off a strange kind of warmth, his artificial skin as soft and pliable as human flesh. It felt so real she forgot herself for a moment and thought she was sitting beside a real man.

Taemin had been living – for lack of a better world – in her penthouse apartment for nearly a month thanks to her Robotic Engineer father who thought she needed an assistant to take care of the cooking and cleaning. She had told herself she didn’t need the help, didn’t want a robot – especially one made by her father – in her apartment. Who knew if it was spying on her or what, but since he had arrived he’d been nothing but the kindest person she’d met in years. He’d become more to her than she had ever intended and in a way that scared her.

But then his fingers found their way around hers and she couldn’t help but smile, putting aside all of her thoughts in favour of snuggling a little closer into his side.

“Are you programmed for things like this?” She asked tentatively, barely paying attention to the old sitcom rerun playing on the screen.

“For what, exactly?” Taemin asked, his voice so human-like it would fool anyone.

“To make me feel like… like you really care about me.” She muttered.

Taemin didn’t respond for a long moment, making her feel anxious, though she kept silent. “I don’t recall any programming like that… I’ve been made to be as real as possible. I don’t know, maybe my program is picking up on your body language and responding in kind? But there is something in my head? I can’t decipher what it is.”

“Don’t worry.” She said softly, not wanting him to overheat his servers. “I-I don’t even know what I was asking anyway.”

“It is natural to seek answers. I apologise for being unable to give you a satisfying response.” Taemin assured her, lips teasing at her hair, her cheek still pressed comfortably against his shoulder.

“Don’t apologise for something like that.” She muttered, raising his hand with both of hers, gently touching his fingers, hardly able to feel the difference between his hand and other human hands. “I’ll ask my father tomorrow… discreetly.”

But, even though she had tried her very best she still didn’t get the answers she was looking for. Her father wasn’t in the habit of letting go of information he didn’t want to release and for some reason any topic on Taemin seemed to be out of bounds which generally left her frustrated and rushing home each afternoon. Punching pillows had never seemed to do the trick before and they still didn’t do her any good, though Taemin tried his best to help her remain calm there was no stopping the tears that fell down her cheeks.

“I just don’t understand!” She cried, hugging her knees, pillow between her thighs and chest as she sat on the lounge. “I shouldn’t feel this way about anyone as it is b-but… but you’re not human, as real and as human as you look and feel you aren’t human at the end of the day and I just… I don’t know what to think or feel anymore.”

Taemin simply began to braid her hair, unable to find words in his memory bank that would soothe the girl. He didn’t know what he felt either. It didn’t make any sense to him. He knew he was a robot and yet there was a part of him that felt so human he sometimes found it difficult to differentiate the two parts of himself.

“Taemin?”

He looked up into her eyes, realising that she’d sat up and was kneeling beside him, his body already angled towards her so they were almost facing one another. “Yes, Miss?” He asked.

“Don’t move just… I just need this.” She muttered softly, leaning in with great hesitance, her lips nervously.

Some instinct inside him told him exactly what was about to happen and he let her lean closer into him, delicate fingers finding their way to his shoulders and then, ever so softly, her warm lips were touching to his. In that instant it was like wires sparked behind his eyes, his body reacting in an instant as he pressed into her motions, a hand cupping her elbow as he followed her lead, her lips upon his artificial ones and making them feel like they were on fire, the fake sensors in them sending trembles through his joints. The soft presses turned into hard, purposeful ones, Taemin pulling the girl into his lap and gripping at her oversized shirt as her fingers threaded into his hair made of donated hair cut from living humans. She pulled so hard he was surprised the strands didn’t come free and he grunted with a feeling he didn’t understand.

Then, just as soon as the kiss had started, Minjung stumbled off his lap and pressed her back against the far wall beside the television, panting deeply, hands held up to her chest as if they were trying to calm her erratically beating heart.