In our few days together, he's proven to be smarter than I assumed he would be. Minho has had nothing but a few ettiquite errors, but nothing that can't be fixed with minimal effort. He's an experiment, but it's become harder for me to see him that way. The idea of having to peel away his perfect, life-like skin to inspect his control mechanisms shot a pain through my chest. It wasn't healthy for me to imagine him as a real human, but I couldn't avoid it. Something burned in me for him, like a fire. Perhaps it was only because I was taking such good care of him, but there was a glint in Minho's personality that wasn't supposed to exist. Yesterday when I left to teach, he seemed almost sad. I can only imagine he walked circles on the hardwood floor or stared out of the large bay window the entire day. Maybe I'll start turning him off before I leave.

 

Key closed his leather notebook carefully, pushing away the pen he had been using without care. He glanced up, peering over his glasses at Minho who was preoccupied with a children's toy Key had bought him. He smiled, basking in the boy's amusement.

 

"Minho," Key pulled himself from his chair and took seat next to him, "do you know what music is?"

 

Minho dropped the toy in his lap and looked at Key carefully, "I know nothing of it, Sir. You haven't taught me. What is music?" 

 

Key smiled more, pushing the toy onto the floor and crawling over Minho. His hands wandered over his milky skin and he began to softly sing.

"Missed me...missed me...now you've got to kiss me...if you kiss me, mister, you must think I'm pretty..if you think so, mister, you must want to fu-" he giggled, unable to finish his song. His eyes traveled over Minho's body carefully as he his lips. Where had this sudden need for passion come from?  Key was almost sure that he was more confused by his own actions than Minho was. 

 

Minho only blinked and smiled, "That's music?" 

 

"Well it's a song. Songs are made of music. Does that make sense?" he giggled quietly, carelessly playing with the small bit of hair beneath Minho's sculpted navel. He started to curse Taemin in his head, blaming him for making Minho so real. 

 

"It does not make sense, Sir." Minho watched Key's hands, his encrypted memory struggling to make sense of what he was supposed to be thinking. 

 

Key leaned down to him, brushing his lips lightly over Minho's, "You don't have to understand. It's just something you enjoy. It's something you can make..." he sighed against his skin, his hot breath fogging one of Minhos eyes before he blinked it away, "by yourself, or with someone else and just...enjoy. You're familiar with joy, aren't you?" Key's arms wrapped tighter around him, pulling Minho's cool body as close as he could to his own.

 

"I do not understand." Minho pouted a bit, frustrated that he was incapable of comprehending what his creator was explaining. Key took his puckered lips as an invitation and pressed to them, tasting perfumed skin and the smallest hint of exhaust. He didn't find it unpleasant as much as he did interesting. The kiss became urgent for Key as he worked his tongue over Minho's dry one, but much to his surprise, Minho began to participate and follow his actions. Key quickly pulled himself back and watched the humanoid beneath him. He blinked, confused again. 

 

"I apologize Minho, but I believe I'm speaking in metaphors now." he turned his blushing face away, "that wasn't music at all. That's something...you're not even supposed to have programmed?" He removed himself from the boy's body and started gathering his notes. He felt nothing but frustration, perhaps from his own .

 

"Taemin. I think Taemin may have caused a glitch in you when he was...decorating, if you will. You...you put this on and come with me." Key pushed a bundle of clothes at Minho and pushed his hands into his own hair in distress. "Damn you, Taemin..."