Chapter Text
His hazy eyes open up to an equally misty day out there.
He doesn’t need a clock to know it is past midday, his routine on the last month has been the same: swallowing a pill bigger than his throat, drinking wine and passing out. It was the only way he could sleep.
And he liked the numbness that the pills and alcohol produced on his mind.
Taeyong is truly miserable these days. He feels like there is nothing left for him; everything is working on automatic, senseless, as if his routine gained life and kept moving without his will. He is an outsider of his own life, watching the days passing by without having any control over his actions or emotions.
Everything repeated itself and he just stood there, sitting on the couch, watching. He would wake up, freshen up, eat some frozen food, go to college and back to his house, to his pills and wine.
He takes a deep breath. He forgot to close the curtains before collapsing on his white sheets, the clarity hurts his eyes but he finds no strength to get up and close it. When he closes his eyes again, he is taken back to some months ago, when he would scream for Mr. Lee and he would come and bring coffee and waffles and a smooch on his forehead as a good morning -- even if it was past twelve p.m.
But now, if he screamed, nobody would listen to him. There is no smooches or waffles and coffee. There is no Mr. Lee.
It was the 13 th when he received the news that wrecked his whole world. On the night before that, his father hadn’t come home and he just assumed he was too busy working on his new project. Mr. Lee was a famous engineer, working for the government and stuff that didn’t really interest Taeyong but he couldn’t deny that he was proud of.
He woke up on the next morning with the sound of desperate knocks on the door, didn’t even bother to dress properly before going downstairs in what seemed like the speed of light. He knew something was wrong when he saw Mr. Lee’s secretary standing there, with her pink lips parted, trying to find words to explain what just happened.
His father was dead. Killed by one of his own designs, leaving a clueless Taeyong alone in the world.
By now, one month after his death, Taeyong had stopped searching for someone to guilt over his father’s incident. He accepted that it was faith, that it had to happen, and it was okay. He knew he would overcome this pain and get his life back on tracks, he just didn’t know when.
With a sigh, he gets up. Dizzy from the intoxication from last night, he totters towards the bathroom, the unpleasant reminder that he is soon having visit bothered his peaceful mind. He could be on grief, but he still had his manners and vanity.
The cold water against the soft skin of his pale face is, as always, like a life saver, bringing him back from his oblivion. Black shirt and black denim, black socks and black shoes. The red strands of hair standing just in the limits of his eyelids, concealer on the dark circles under his eyes, and the doorbell just when the clock turns 1 p.m.
He tries not to look as bad as he is inside, trying his best to smile when he opens the door. But, even though he is pretending, the woman knows he was in pain. She has been in his life since Taeyong was a little kid and by now, she knew him better than himself. She smiles back -- a pity smile, he had to notice, and holds out a brown paper bag. It is his favorite meal, cooked by his favorite chef in the whole world, and he doesn’t need to open it up to know what it is.
Taeyong observes her features. The same damn pink lipstick from the last time they had seen each other, the perfect crafted chalk line suit, the perfect hair cut, nails, shoes, legs. Just to look at her you could see she was an expensive woman, exuding luxury in all the minimum details. Even the way she smiles is too fancy for him. He steps inside, a silent invitation for her to come in, following his way to the living room.
“Mr. Lee, you look… healthy” She speaks low, pronouncing each vowel perfectly, slowly, like a therapist. Taeyong looks above his shoulder, smiling in acknowledge. “We were all worried about you.”
His cold hands let the brown bag on the counter, his throat feeling sore. He isn’t really in the mood for chit chatting, but he guesses he owns it to the woman. Pulling the black bench away from the mobile, his long legs finally rests when he takes his seat, his eyes pierced on a dot above the secretary’s head. It is still hard for him to lie looking into someone’s eyes. “There’s nothing to worry about, Janine. I’m doing fine.” He smiles again, softly.
“I believe you.” She nods, her perfect ginger hair moving along. Her tiny hands straighten the skirt before sitting against the light colored sofa. “The dean made us a phone call this past week, he said that you have a perfect attendance even though they gave you this month free from college.”
Taeyong arches an eyebrow. Since when did the dean made personal phone calls to talk about students? Oh, yes, he never did. Just as they never gave regular students a month off of college for grief. He had always hated to be treated differently for being son of his father, and this hasn’t changed at all.
“Don’t be upset, Mr. Lee, he’s just making sure you’re fine. We all are.” Janine says, noticing he’s not gonna say anything about the subject. She crosses her legs, uncomfortable for the situation that she created. “Well, after your father died I became a very busy figure on the building, so I only came to check on you really. And to remind you to collect his engines for donation.”
Taeyong’s father was a genius. Really, a man ahead of his time, and Taeyong didn’t need to understand about physics and mathematics to know about it. He remembered, from his childhood memories, that his father had the basement filled with machines and iron and wires which little Taeyong didn’t understand. He and Janine had decided to donate all the complete ones for an auction to help street puppies, and the younger one was in charge of collecting the items.
“Ah, right, I was almost forgetting about this.” He says, a nostalgic grin adorning his features as he remembered his moments on that room. “I’ll get everything done before the weekend, promise.”
Janine smiles and stands up, her heels cracking against the clear marble floor as she approaches him, her fingers reaching the red strands of his hair. Taeyong misses her caresses, he can’t lie to himself, and his eyes closes instantly when he feels her soft fingers rubbing against his scalp.
“Promises are bonds we can’t break, Mr. Lee. Be careful making them.” And, as quick as those little happiness fill our hearts, Janine’s feminine touch is gone, for Taeyong’s sadness. She patts him on the back, the same heartwarming smile painted those fake pink lips, like a silent goodbye. “I’ll send someone to catch everything by Friday, is that good for you?”
He nods, there’s nothing else he can do. She waves and leaves Taeyong with the image of her perfect posture drifting away from his house, alone again with nothing but his thoughts and loneliness. He sighs again, dragging his figure out of the stool he’s been sitting on, his smooth steps coming to meet the stairway that leads to the basement and garage.
It is a huge house, Taeyong always thought like this. It was huge when his father lived with him and its huge now that there’s only him; maybe he wouldn’t feel as lonely as he feels now if the place was smaller.
Determined to accomplish his promise, Taeyong starts to go through all of those machines his father left untouched. They went from automatic toasters that produces its own bread to prototypes of flying cars, and he just realizes that it may take more than a week for him to analyze it all. Being lonely can be tough sometimes.
xx
It is only by Thursday in that same week that Taeyong finds that bizarre thing .
At first, he was scared. A guttural cry left his vocal chords as soon as his fingers dragged the black fabric down, revealing what seemed to be a man. A sleeping man, and Taeyong had to touch it to come to the realization that what he was seeing was, actually, skin.
At second, he was doubtful. That wasn’t a man, and if it was then he was sure it was a dead man. He poked it a thousand times and it hasn’t moved a muscle, it was humanly impossible to be that quiet.
At third, he finds a note, a fluorescent yellow post-it pinned against that thing’s left shoulder. He could recognize his father’s handwriting, like a doctor’s letter that he suffered so much to read.
He isn’t sure if he wanted to read it, he has been feeling so well since he started to collect the items of the basement. His mind was finally filled with something but his misery and loneliness, busy with all those stuff he didn’t have no time to think about bullshit. He isn’t secure that he would stay like that if he had any kind of contact with his dead father.
But, at least, he decides to hold the post-it on his bare hands and look at it – from behind, of course. He feels his breath fanning too quick, anxiety filling his veins. That note had an explication for whatever the fuck that humanoid was, and Taeyong was tired of trying to figure it out by himself. He sighs, curiosity winning against fear, and turns the note to finally read his father’s words:
Taeyong,
If you found him, this means I’m dead.
I constructed this artificial intelligent robot because I know you’re gonna be lonely once I’m gone. Consider him as your friend, while you get ready to actually interact with other humans than Janine. His name is Taeil, all you have to do is turning him on by saying his name. I hope he fills the gap I left in your life.
With love, from beyond life,
Dad.
Of course Taeyong hesitated. He steals a glance at this very human artificial intelligent robot. His hair on a dark shade of brown, looking extremely soft, begging to be caressed. His lips resting on a line, cracked as if its dry on the winter, on a smooth shade of pink, looking like an oil painting. His skin even has pores!
And he dresses one of Taeyong’s old sweaters and the blue jeans he loved so much. He feels stupid, what kind of person was he that he needed his dead father to construct him a robot so he would feel less lonely?
He twists on his heels, giving his back to the humanoid and decides he won’t turn it on. He doesn’t need it, he prefered being lonely better than depending on a thing that wasn’t even human to feel better with himself and knead the little yellow note, making a ball out of it and tossing it inside his pocket.
“Stupid Taeil, I don’t need you” he says, way too loud, and forgets the words written on the note. His lithe steps proceed to the stairs, but he is stopped when he hears a sound behind him. A sound too much alike the sounds that his own shoes makes, except he isn’t moving, he isn’t doing anything, and he is frozen. He can hear it clearly, too terrified to look behind, but he knows what’s going on. He said its name and know it has come to life, he is scared to look and see a man standing in the middle of his dusty basement like a real human being, he is scared of what can happens.
What if it is a crazy machine? What if it tries to kill him?
Taeyong closes his eyes, he’s never been that scared before and tries to convince himself that it’s all tricks of his mind. This isn’t happening, is just his lonely brain tired of being alone. He takes a deep breath and decides to leave, since the steps have gone quiet now. But as he moves the first muscle to the stairs, he can hear a soft yet warm clear voice, talking to him so low he even questions himself if he is listening correctly.
“Mr. Lee?”
He turns, hesitantly, a frightened frown resting on his features, to face the robot standing there, eyes blinking, hands twined, perfect posture, even shaking the brown strands of hair away from his eyelids. “Y-yes?”
The robot mouths a smile, a very bright one. His teeth is perfect, white as pearls, and his cheekbones sticks out. He comes closer, carefully, standing some meters away from its owner.
“I’m Taeil, the artificial intelligence.” He extend his arm in greetings, on a perfect angle that could only be made by a robot, too mechanical this time. It’s the first sign that he is, actually, not human and Taeyong feels oddly better after it. “It’s nice to finally meet you, sir.”
Even though he is scared, Taeyong dares to take the robot’s handshake. A chill comes down his spine as his feel it’s warm skin, just like a human’s, scared of his father creation.
“Y-you can call me Taeyong.” It’s gonna take a long time before Taeyong can actually stop stuttering when talking to the robot, he figures. “I’m sorry to bother, I turned you on by an accident.”
“You took long to find me, actually.” The robot replies, and Taeyong realizes that, beyond having a beautiful voice, the way he speaks recalls him of that lady from Google translate. “Your father told me you would find me in the first week posthumously his death.”
Oh yeah, he talks like that lady as well.
“You’ve met my father?” He asks, his head is spinning and it feels like there’s no room for his brain to think correctly. It’s too much for his sad self to swallow, he can’t actually believe what he was living.
He should, tho. The machine can’t quite understand his surprise to see a talking and walking robot in his basement, since the society he lives in is full of weird technologies like him. The company which he provided his living of sells flying cars and levitating elevators, secure systems that could read visitors intentions and mobile phones with artificial intelligence as developed as the robot himself. It’s weird to think that robots, like Taeil, aren’t walking freely on the streets everyday.
“Uh… yes? He made me.” Answers the robot, thinking that this human is funny. Taeyong hasn’t relaxed not even a bit, feeling a whole mountain on his shoulders, increasingly tense with the conversation with the humanoid and that is written all over his face.
“How long did it take for my father to construct you?” Is the next question, and believe me, the young Lee has a lot of them for the robot.
“Around five years.”
Five years? And Taeyong never even suspected that his father was creating a living creature on his basement. What else did Mr. Lee hid from him? It could be seen as a cute thing, this robot that his father created for him not to feel lonely, but Taeyong felt… betrayed. He couldn’t believe that his father would rather spend time creating this little toy than actually spending time with him.
He deep breaths, it isn’t the robot’s fault anyway, there is no use in discount his sadness and disappointment in the poor bot. He lets his shoulders relax for the first time, it had become clear that the robot wasn’t gonna do him no harm. He isn’t scared anymore.
“Do you… eat?” Taeyong isn’t really in the mood for having company right now, but he is too polite to just send the robot back to the basement again. The least he could do is offering him something to eat, to drink. Maybe oil? He had no idea what is suitable for a robot.
“I don’t have a necessity for food, but I do have a stomach, yes.” It answers, brightly smiling, and looking upstairs. “I can join you in your meal if you would like me to. I can cook as well.”
Taeyong’s eyebrow arch in acknowledge. He mouths an “ah”, without knowing what to think, or say.
“You’re very robotic for a friend, Taeil.” is all he says, making his way back to the higher levels of the house with the metal guy in his pursuit. Maybe this could be a good thing, after all. He could finally stop eating frozen food and have real healthy habits for once. And maybe a friend to talk to, once he gets used to the male version of the lady from Google translate. “What can you cook?”
The robot smiles. He may be artificial but he is programmed to have perception and tact, and right now he knows that Taeyong is giving him a chance. Mr. Lee has downloaded in him loads and loads of archives about his son, so Taeil knows a lot about Taeyong. He knows that, despite not wanting the company from a robot, he is accepting it anyway because he is polite. And for its robotic mind, Taeil found it beautiful how people could be so fake to the point of putting themselves in situations they didn’t want to be just to satisfy the others.
“I can cook anything. You father have programmed me to know cookery from fifty different countries.” They reach the kitchen, and the robot contours the marble counter while Taeyong sits on one of the benches. “Just ask whatever you want to eat.”
Taeyong takes a moment to think. There’s been days since he hasn’t eat by hunger, just eating to attend his body needs. He hasn’t had the pleasure of savoring a good meal in a while, and he used to love to eat. He himself was a decent cooker, but nothing seemed worth enough getting his kitchen dirty.
But then, he has an idea. This simple, childish dish that he used to eat every sunday morning with his dad on the coffee in the next corner. It felt like the food had a feeling of his own, and this is why he didn’t eat anymore, because he couldn’t handle all of the memories. But suddenly, he could feel its taste on his tongue, his mouth waters and he is sure it is time to bring tradition back.
“Waffles. Do you know how to cook them?”
Without saying anything, Taeil started to pick the ingredients on the locker, as if he has lived in this house for five years, knowing exactly Taeyong’s organization pattern.
And he could lie to himself, but it is good not being alone for once.