The Mannequin - Minsung

one

"So you're going to make me do this, are you?"

Minho drops a cushion on the floor. Sits on it, puts his sketchbook, a bag of snacks, and a water bottle beside him.

He folds his legs. "You won't tell me, huh? You won't show me? I'll just watch you all night then!"

The beautiful mannequin remains as is. Just a statue.

Yes. Minho knows that in the eyes of others, he looks crazy.

But... It happened again last night.

It has been going on for over two weeks.

The kisses started two days after the mannequin came.

His friend, Hyunjin, had given it to him.

And he had only asked him one question about it. "Anything interesting you want to share about this thing?"

Hyunjin laughed. "If you're scared, I'll give it to someone else."

Minho said no and hung up.

He's not giving away such a stunning piece of art. 

And are his friends really going to believe him if he says that the mannequin kisses him? They could just turn this into a joke. Laugh at him. Think that he's gone absolutely crazy.

Even thinking about it... It's all stupid.

But he is certain. It kisses him every night.

He's been keeping track of every little thing. For five days now. He even poked the mannequin with a needle. In case it was a person.

But there's nothing. No one.

And he's even kissed it. Like a fool. Twenty times now. To be sure it feels the same... And it does. The lips that kiss him... are soft.

Every time he opens his eyes, the mannequin is right where he left it. Even when he moves it around. Farther. Closer.

The next morning, Minho stands up and kisses the mannequin again.

It's as tall as him. Well, a few centimeters shorter, actually.

He touches its face. The jawline. The cheeks. It's... special. He's never seen such a combination of features. He kisses the lips again. Touches its bangs. Eyelids. The eyelashes.

He can't help it. As an artist, he finds it incredible. It's so detailed. So unique. He'd think it was a real person if he didn't feel the hardness of it.

The way it just stands still. Frozen.

The way the needle broke when he poked it to check.

He looked for a signature a few times. A name. A date. Near the neck. Hands. Hair. Under the white shirt. Bare feet. Black pants.

And even on the white brief it's wearing...

But there's nothing underneath the mannequin's simple clothes.

It's just... a very gorgeous slim body.

Minho's been in awe. He must've spoke praises to it for hours. He sketches it every day. He sighs each time at how beautiful it is.

He narrows his eyes as he stares at the mannequin again. Waiting... waiting for it to move even an inch.

"Yeah, I'm crazy," he says to himself. To the mannequin, it doesn't matter. "But I just need to know."

"Like, I either do this or I get crazier. So I'll have to keep watching you. Who knows, if it's not you, then I might catch who it actually is."

He sits down again, grabs his sketchbook, and slides his cushion farther. He looks up at the mannequin. He focuses on its face. Starts drawing.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers.

To be continued...

Dear brain, please let me finish writing this story. And don't worry guys, no murders will happen in this story : )