Yixing’s seen pictures of Jongdae before – as in, before he became a droid – stolen glimpses, peeks into a past Jongdae is more than a little ashamed of. Jongdae keeps them for reasons known only to himself; Yixing doesn’t think he can accuse him of sentimentality, because it’s not like Jongdae’s capable of that.

They embarrass him. Jongdae does not like the reminder of his imperfections; he hates the dull, brown eyes that do not glitter in artificial light. He thinks the natural curve of his smile is quaint, and – quite frankly – plebeian. His skin does not shine; his face is too thin and scrawny.

Yixing can pick out all of the detrimental features, and yet – there’s something still so quintessentially Jongdae about them that he can’t quite find them unattractive. The eyes are too expressive, true; his skin is not perfectly smooth, and that air of being perfectly groomed is nowhere to be found. But he’s not ugly. He’s handsome.

In other words, Yixing probably wouldn’t have turfed Jongdae out of bed had he met him before the mechanisation. He’s not entirely sure what that means, but he supposes – if they were both still human – it would mean something.

Jongdae doesn’t see his family anymore. Neither does Yixing – but then Yixing was broken, faulty before he let them wire him up and turn him into something desirable. A lot of families can’t reconcile their children with the artificial beauties they become; it’s sad, but once you are a droid, your ability to care is nullified anyway.

Part of the attraction of becoming mechanique is the emotional detachment. Some hail it as a cure for depression, schizophrenia – the diseases of the mind that haunt those too selfish to do something about it. Or at least, that’s what they say.

Yixing was just tired of feeling too much.