Light. The first thing you remember seeing is light. 

You've never seen something so startlingly bright; in fact, you've never even seen before. You've never seen night and day before, never processed light and dark. But with the faint fluttering of your eyelids, the words roll off of your (tongue? Is that what that thing is called?) before you can stop to contemplate what they might even mean. 

"Light," you say. "Bright light, too bright. Can't see." You reach your hands out in front of you and stretch the long fingers, keeping your gaze focused on them as the pinpricks of white begin to fade from your irises. Your lips curl up and you fight them, the feeling too strange to be natural. "Better."

You drop your hands into your lap and turn your head around in wonder, taking in the sights around you. As you glance to your right, you lock eyes with something else. Someone else. 

He (a boy. You are a girl and he is a boy) is scribbling messily onto a clipboard and watching you with fascinated eyes. "Woah," he breathes. "You operate even better than I expected." His voice is low and soothing. You wonder if you could feel it if you touched his lips. What does a voice feel like?

He leans close to you, watching you with wide, dark eyes as pieces of chestnut hair fall out of place. You reach out and brush them aside curiously, your fingertips grazing his warm skin. He jumps back slightly and clutches his clipboard even tighter, gaping. You keep reaching for him and tentatively you grasp the collar of his lab coat to rub the coarse material between your fingertips. 

"Rough," you murmur. Your lips feel thick and unused. "This is a coat and it feels rough." The boy in front of you nods eagerly, glancing at where your fingers still clutch his collar in surprise. 

"That's right, a coat. A lab coat. I'm wearing a lab coat because I am the Doctor." You glance down at your own clothing, a baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

 "The Doctor," you drawl out slowly. 

He nods again and his lips curve up, showcasing a neat row of teeth. What was that called? A sm...smi...whatever it is, you like his. It makes your (skin?) tingle with warmth. 
"That's right again, the Doctor. But you can call me Chanyeol because you're special." You awkwardly try out one of those curvy lip things and he laughs suddenly, a deep rumbling sound that buzzes along your skin. You like the way his eyes crinkle when he shows his teeth and makes that wonderful sound. You want to laugh too but you don't know how. 

Instead, you fold your hands in your lap and swing your bare feet back and forth beneath the examination table. "Chanyeol," you say. "Chanyeol Chanyeol Chanyeol. I call the Doctor Chanyeol but others call him the Doctor. It is because I'm special." You commit the words to memory as you clench your fist, admiring the way the skin stretches.  He hesitantly fixes your hair, letting it fall in waves against your shoulders as his eyes crinkle again. 
"Correct," he says softly. You decide his voice is your favorite sound in the world, even if it's the only sound you've ever heard.

Chanyeol is smart. He is called the Doctor because he has magic hands that cure and create everything known to man. 

He created you, too. 

You don't exactly know what you are. You are not a human, you know that for sure, for you were not born. And you're certainly not one of those things with the wings that make too much noise when you're trying to recharge in the morning. Chanyeol says they come from eggs and you know for sure that you didn't hatch from one of those. 

You have skin and eyes and lips and arms and legs and you're about as real as any other person. The only difference between you and those with a heartbeat is the fact that beneath your skin is a multitude of wires and whirring machines that Chanyeol says are "state of the art." You believe him, of course, because Chanyeol is the Doctor and what he says is always right. 

You're not stupid, just unexposed. Each time Chanyeol points things out to you around the lab and the city outside, you feel as if he's simply reminding you of a word dangling on the tip of your tongue. 

And though it's nice to learn about what his mechanical toys are called and what each animal and flower is named, you find yourself especially curious about him and how he thinks and breathes and tastes because those are the things you are sheltered most from. 

You could breathe if you wanted to, but it's pointless. You don't need air or food or water, just a quick charge of batteries once in a while. You don't necessarily sleep but instead have a habit of blacking out once in a while when the lights are dimmed or there's a soft sound that Chanyeol calls music playing in the background. You love music almost as much as you love the sound of Chanyeol's voice and the pounding of his heartbeat. You like the way it resonates through your (bones?), a pleasant hum that tingles along the wires that keep you stimulated. 

You especially love to touch. You don't feel pain, don't notice when a hot pan sears your skin or a sharp knife grazes you a bit too hard. It drives Chanyeol insane when you always get injured and you make a habit of apologizing whenever the chance comes up, no matter what the occasion is.

"You're learning so much," Chanyeol says one day. "Far more than I expected." 

You wring your hands in front of you and duck your head low. "I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I promise. I won't do something bad to Chanyeol again." 

He leaps up from his chair and shakes his hands hurriedly, stuttering. "N-No, don't apologize, it's a good thing. It's praise." 

"Praise?" You tilt your head curiously and scan your database for the word. 

"Yeah, take it as a complement." You pout slightly. 

"A...complement." Your eyes light up as you glance up again. "A complement!" You reach out, taking his hands and twining your fingers together. He looks flustered and his cheeks are stained pink. 

"Thank you for the complement, it means a great amount to me," you say quietly. He shows his teeth again in that beautiful sight. You reach out a hand and trace his lips softly, his cheeks growing an even deeper shade of red. "What's this?" You ask. "Chanyeol's lips do such a pretty thing but I do not know what to call it."

"My...lips?" His fingers cover your own and he traces where you had just touched. "Oh, a smile! You're talking about my smile." He does it again, smiles so brightly at you that you want to taste it. You think it must taste sweeter than sunshine. 

"A smile," you repeat, trying out one of your own. "I love when you smile." He blushes crimson again and twines your fingers back together.

"You've got a pretty nice smile yourself."

Chanyeol lets you leave the lab and explore his house. 

You love the running water that spouts from the faucets, the sweet strawberries he keeps in the refrigerator (even if the taste is 3/4 imagination and 1/4 actual flavor), the button down shirts hung in his closet that fall past interesting your thighs, and the clean, warm cotton of his sheets. And though all of these things are wonderful and fascinating, you find that looking at them and touching them leaves you with an empty ache of want deep in your chest. 

You spend the day tucked beneath his sheets with the sunlight from the windows baking you and the taste of strawberries stuck to your tongue. Chanyeol is content to watch you explore and examine his belongings, his clipboard always by his side and a pen pressed against his lips. 

When night falls, you refuse to leave the toasty confines of Chanyeol's bed, not admitting that you like the scent of his pillowcase and the softness of his clothing. Though he stutters and flushes for a few moments, he finally gives in and lets you stay curled up in the bed.

 "I'll just sleep out on the couch then, okay? You stay here and don't move a muscle. I don't want to have to send out a search party if you go exploring again." He gathers his pajamas and starts to leave the room but you sit up in a hurry, snatching his wrist. 

"I don't want Chanyeol to leave," you say quietly. "Can you sleep here with me?" He opens his mouth and shuts it, open shut open shut open shut. 

"I...um, okay." He makes his way towards the bed. You like the way he looks without a lab coat and just his t-shirt and sweatpants. He's so young and so human. He slips underneath of the blankets and keeps a short distance away from you, his warm breath steaming against your cheek. You curl against him immediately, pressing your ear against his chest and savoring the steady pound of his pulse. He freezes slightly but melts as you wrap your arms around his waist. He's so warm and smells incredibly alive.  

"Goodnight Chanyeol," you murmur into the fabric of his t-shirt. It's so soft compared to the coarseness of his coat. He lets his fingers run gently through your hair and you take a breath, wishing that it was real, that you needed that air to keep your heart pounding. 
"Goodnight."
You don't know what the tingling feeling is that spreads across your skin whenever he walks into a room is called. It's the only word that slips your mind nowadays. You could've sworn it was in your database, but every single search leaves you empty handed.  You want to ask him but you're scared to know the answer, scared that you're doing wrong again.  You find yourself wishing to have a heartbeat to match his, a pulse you could feel for your own. Sure, you can think, but you want to feel. You want to be real. You want to be human for Chanyeol. 

You tell him this one night when the two of you are curled in his bed, your fists clutching the fabric of his t-shirt and rubbing the soft threads between your fingertips. He's shocked at first; you can tell by the way his eyes widen and his cheeks go pink. 

"You don't need to be human," he says quietly. "You're real in my eyes and I love you as you are." Then he presses his lips against your forehead through a toothy smile and you swear for a moment that there's a pulse flowing throughout your entire body. 
That word. It's love. 

"I thought you were done creating me, Doctor? You said I was finished." Chanyeol smiles and scrambles for a screwdriver on his work table, the hem of his lab coat snagging on a cart of scalpels. 

"Chanyeol. Remember? It's Chanyeol."

"Chanyeol," you correct yourself. 

"I know I said that, but I've been working on some extensive research and I want to try it out with you." You fiddle with your thumbs as he lays you back on the examination table. 
"Will it hurt?" Your voice is small and he looks away. 

"No it...it won't hurt." He searches for another tool with fumbling hands. 
"Will you make me human?" His eyes are sad for a moment but he hides it quickly behind a tooth grin. 

"I can sure try," he says. He brushes your hair from your eyes and you lean into the gentle touch with a sigh of content. "I'm going to put you to sleep for a little while, okay?" You nod numbly and he gives you another smile. 

"I love your smile," you say quietly. "I love your smile and your voice and your heartbeat and the way your eyes and nose crinkle at the same time whenever you laugh." He bites his bottom lip softly and looks away. Did you say something wrong? You swallow hard and start to apologize but he cuts you off. 

"I-I know, don't be sorry," he says slowly. "I think I love you. Does that make us even?" 

And then the light is replaced with darkness. 

When you open your eyes, the first thing you notice is the pounding. The steady thumping flows through your entire body, resonates in your ears, vibrates against your skin. You blink slowly and take a breath, your chest contracting and expanding softly with each unsteady puff of air. You purse your lips and take another long breath, savoring the way the air brushes your windpipe like wind in the trees. 

"Good morning," Chanyeol says. He wipes his hands on a small towel and leans close to you, that goofy grin illuminating his face. "How do you feel?"

You pause to draw in another breath. Expand, contract. 

"Strange," you say slowly. He reaches out and timidly knots your fingers together. 
"I gave you a heart," he announces. "I gave you a heart and lungs and I updated your database. It's the closest I could get to making you feel alive, even if the parts are mechanical." You sit up quickly and he leans back slightly, surprised. 

"You really did that?" Your voice is incredulous and your lips curl into a smile. "You did all of that for me?" 

"Of course," he says, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I-" You cut him off as you press your lips against his, curling your fingers into his hair. He melts in your touch and you smile as your lips tangle together. When you break away, he runs a timid thumb over your cheek and it comes away damp. 

You touch your cheeks in surprise. You were crying? You had never cried before, only heard about it in some of the books Chanyeol kept in the lab. It was something only humans could do. 

You take a deep breath and shut your eyes, still smiling. "Thank you," you say quietly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." You press a firm kiss to his cheek with each syllable before pulling away and gasping. "Right, air, I forgot."

He laughs, the sound more wonderful than your favorite song. You run your fingertips over the front of his coat and smile when you feel the familiar pounding beneath his skin, beating in time with your own. 

"I love you too, Chanyeol," you say quietly. He flushes a deep crimson. 
"I didn't think... I didn't..." You roll your eyes and press a soft kiss to his lips, savoring the taste of warmth and sun. 

You repeat it firmly. "I love you too." This time, he doesn't resist. He simply gathers you in his arms until you're pressed against each other, heart to heart.