Archive of Our Own ^beta

He takes his eyes off the display case to take in the appearance of the shop exterior. It looks just like every run-of-the-mill building in the city—wooden, and fairly old. There is a wooden sign hanging on the side, only bearing the image of scissors—obviously carved into the wood. The directions he managed to receive earlier seemed to be accurate enough. The shop truly is one of those "you have to squint to find it" sort. He really couldn't believe it at first that such a simple-looking establishment was renowned by the nobles as the best and only place to have their clothes made. He imagined something a bit more grand.

However, it looks fairly well-kept and decorated in contrast to other buildings in the city, using the wood to their advantage to create a homey feel. Utilizing muted greens, paper yellows and dark grays to complement the color of rickety wood. Whoever had this building furnished has their fair eye for the aesthetics, he thinks to himself.

If that is not testament enough to the shop owner's eye for the arts, the clothes displayed behind the glass definitely are. Hadn't it been for these displays, the understated little shop might have been hidden away in plain sight.

And thus, his eyes focus on them again. More appropriately, he stares at the centerpiece of the display.

A very beautiful, life-sized, mannequin man, also wearing equally beautiful nobleman clothes. The tailor managed to put black, cream and gold together to form a magnificent marriage of silk and lace. The black, ruffled silk shirt shone, with the gold ribbons and adornments unifying the piece. The cream-colored vest is not something to be scoffed at, either, as he noted that the embroidery has been done painstakingly by hand. After all, there is no way a machine could be able to replicate such detailed work. The centerpiece of the clothing, however, is a huge diamond hanging on its neck. If the living stones he read in storybooks were real, he would imagine that they would look something like the mannequin before him.

Why would he not assume such? It is indeed, very beautiful. Had it not been for the obviously wooden ball and sockets that make up the joints of its hand, he would have easily mistaken it for an actual human. Its flaxen hair hung beautifully, just barely touching its shoulders. It is doe-, yet sharp-eyed at the same time, its brilliant blues boring holes onto him, the dark gold dusting its lids emphasizing them all the more. Even its lips looked very alive from the way it is colored.

Despite it only standing still, it looked as regal as ever.

Rarely does he ever feel moved by pieces of art—it's just some concept among the nobility that he just did not get. However, strong feelings welled up from within him at that moment. It was like the first peep of spring flowers growing out of the melting winter snow. The warmth of a hearth. The sweet bliss of youth's first love.

It compels him to just walk in the store and take the mannequin home with him. Maybe dance it around like those noblemen do in parties. Maybe even run his fingers on its flaxen hair, over its painted lips. And...

Speaking of stores…

Right, he was supposed to begin his first day of work here.

He pushes the door, and a bell rings to let the owner know of his presence.

The interior is very much like the storefront. Still using the subtle shades of wood to form a homey atmosphere. The furniture and decor melded beautifully together. He looked over and saw that there are other finished pieces neatly dressed over faceless mannequins. He also noted that unlike most tailor shops, he did not see unfinished pieces or scraps of cloth strewn all over the shop floor. He also noted the small door at the far end of the shop, and found out that it was the actual sewing room upon taking a peek.

"Are you the new guy coming in today?" a sharp, almost feminine voice called from behind the counter.

He jolted, managed to croak out a "Yes," before the source of the voice popped out from behind the counter.

"Good. Because I certainly do not want customers peeping in there,"

It took him by surprise to see a very small, petite, olive-haired woman stand up. Her clothing is relatively simpler than her displayed works—a simple white ruffled frock with a black ribbon tied around her neck. However, he did not miss the subtle, yet detailed embroidery on the ruffles and at the seams of her skirt—similar to the stitchwork of the mannequin man's vest. He also noted how the ruffles looked like the petals of a white rose.

"...id you understand?" he heard her say. "What're you staring at, ye dumb oaf?"

He only managed to let out a surprised grumble in response. Her brows furrowed, her face contorting into a frown.

"I don't know how you can be so sure that you can work here, with all that spacing out that you do," she says, putting a hand on her hip. "I run a pretty tight ship here, you know?"

"S-sorry, ma'am, won't do it again," he bows in apology.

"And that's sir , for you," the owner replies, lightly tapping the ruler he was holding all this time, on to the other man's nose. "Again, I run a tight ship here, since orders come in massive waves and those damn nobles want them fast . I don't want any more spacing out from you, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir,"

"Good. And what's your name again?"

"Juza, sir,"

The owner paused, stared at him from top to bottom, then bottom to top before speaking again. "Big oaf. Right."

"Now, we're opening in a few minutes, we don't have much time to be dilly-dallying about. If you have any questions, keep them concise. I'll answer in detail when we close."

"Got it."

—

Juza was taught of his work responsibilities that day—doing the more menial jobs such as organizing the tools, bolts of silk, and clothes—so that the owner could dedicate his full attention to making clothes, and keep up with the increasing demand.

The owner also tried to have Juza personally accommodate customers, but to no avail.

"I appreciate that you're finding ways to ease my workload, but for goodness' sake, don't scare off the customers,"

"I can't help it… How do you smile effortlessly like that?"

"...You know what? I'll handle this part just fine,"

—

Juza also found out throughout his interactions on that day that the owner's name is Yuki, and that he only considered hiring help because the nobles had caught wind of his tiny shop and started making massive orders of a wide array of clothes—from very lavish ball gowns to everyday wear. He couldn't possibly keep up with making the clothes while keeping the business side running. Considering the sheer amount of customers that came pouring on the shop just a few minutes after they had opened, Juza understood.

Even so, he would still try to steal a glance of the beauty at the display window every now and then, much to Yuki's chagrin.

—

While Juza is putting pins to hold pieces of cloth together on a mannequin, Yuki comes over to check up on it. He frowns a bit, then readjusts the alignment of the cloth.

"But won't that be too uneven for that part?" Juza inquired meekly.

"I have something in mind, so don't mess with it," Yuki replies in a clipped tone. "Anyways, be a good oaf and hand me that chalk on the table,"

Juza did as told, and Yuki started drawing swirling patterns throughout the cloth.

"'S'that gonna be for the embroidery?" Juza asked.

"Good sense of perception," Yuki replied "The dress is going to look like a boring nightgown if I keep it plain,"

"'S'nice," Juza agreed "It'll look like it shimmers in the light too,"

"Damn straight," Yuki said as he drew more shapes on the cloth. "Glad your eyes are working as our creator intended."

—

He was also told that Yuki opened up his tiny shop three years ago—at the tender age of fourteen. He had nothing but a bolt of silk, his sewing kit, and a sharp tongue. Even so, he managed to transform a rundown, rickety space into "a half-decent place", as he would put it.

Yuki claimed that naturally, everyone was doubting his abilities as a tailor at the very beginning.

"Even so, I took personal offense to that. So, I hauled ass and made the prettiest clothes I can think of," Juza remembers Yuki saying, "Pretty enough that they cannot look away from it,"

Juza also learned that Yuki wore feminine clothes simply because he felt good doing so—a concept that enthralled Juza to no end. 

"So you think I can do that too?" Juza asked, while putting back an unused mannequin. "Wearing women's clothes and feeling good about it?"

For the first time that day, he saw Yuki slip out a smirk. It was not of judgment, but a knowing look of someone who has seen a fellow countryman in the foreign seas. His honey-colored eyes crinkled just a tad.

"Nothing youcan't do," he simply huffed, as he threaded the sewing machine.

—

Throughout that day, Juza made sure to ask questions as they worked. He tried to take in as much information about tailoring, and other related work that Yuki does in his shop. Yuki, in turn, obliges and keeps on answering them despite the very hectic day. Despite the constant asking and answering, the pair managed to be very efficient—accommodating incoming orders, taking and noting measurements, preparing the pending orders, and giving the finished product to customers who would come to the store to pick them up. During breaks, Yuki would discuss work arrangements, house rules and salaries.

When the day has finally ended, Juza is tasked to clean up the shop, arrange the mannequins and sort out the orders that came in that day, while Yuki retires to his quarters—which happened to be on the second floor of the shop.

"I'm going to check up on this after you leave, so don't you dare mess up anything here," Yuki reminds, having already changed into a loose nightgown. "Do you have any more questions before I go upstairs?"

"Yes, actually," Juza said as he gently hoisted up the mannequin man from behind the display window. He sat it down on one of the empty chairs in the shop. "Where did you get this mannequin?"

"Ah, him," Yuki said nonchalantly. "Got him at a steal of a deal from one of those dinky traveling salesmen that come to town every autumn festival. Said he's a magical item, but I bet that's just his bogus way of bumping up the price on me,"

Yuki handed Juza a hairbrush. "Even so, he's been nothing but a very good model for my clothes. I expect that you give him nothing but the best care. I'm gonna have him display the newer works so please change his clothes as well,"

With no questions out of the way, Yuki retired to his quarters, leaving Juza with the mannequin man once more.

Of course, it is still as regal as ever. Its half-lidded, neutral expression is permanently etched into its face. Juza proceeded to gently remove its clothing, careful to not damage anything.

Seeing the mannequin naked showed more of its inanimate state, its joints and wooden body open for Juza to see. He looks more like a marionette than a mannequin.

Even so, he felt a wave of warmth creep to his cheeks as he oiled up its joints. He would start talking to it to ease the awkwardness, but it only seemed to make it worse on Juza's end.

"It's strange, being on this position, but please hold on," Juza would say, already feeling his heart attempting to leap out of its cage "Your movements will feel smoother in no time,"

Despite his shaking hands, he would diligently put oil on its joints, move it around, and wipe it with a cloth.

Of course, some would splatter on the mannequin. Juza would frantically scramble to wipe it.

Juza oiled up its hands last, nervous about its delicate state. As he gently moved the joints of its fingers, he couldn't help but be mesmerized at its relative candle-like shape and the black paint on its nails.

He looked up and stared at the mannequin's face. Its beauty never ceases to mesmerize him, and in his seemingly drunken stupor, he gently lifted its hands. He slowly brought them to his lips, all while hoping his poor heart wouldn't give out from pounding this hard. He closed his eyes and let the kiss linger, after which he mumbled a sheepish apology.

Juza also tried to maintain an extreme level of care in changing its clothing, trying not to stretch its limbs too far, or bending it unnaturally. He would find myself mumbling words of encouragement to the mannequin as he slipped on each article of clothing. Of course, he would try to stop it as frankly—it is very embarrassing to be caught talking to an inanimate object. Even so, he thought to himself that maybe—just maybe—he would just let it slide for tonight. The night is young, the display window is covered, the door is locked, and he hasn't met someone as willing to listen to him as the mannequin. He told it just as much.

"Sorry for bein' such a pushover," Juza told it, as he stood up from his kneeling position "I couldn't help but talk to you—I mean, it's not often that I meet someone that doesn't run away from me when they see me… an' I— I'm sayin' nonsense again, am I…?"

The mannequin only stared, its neutral expression offering no judgment.

"Oh no, your hair's a mess after all that changin'..." Juza muttered, grabbing the hairbrush. "Let me just…"

And so, he proceeded to gently brush its hair into its then-flawless state. Even its hair felt real between his fingers. He would try his best not to tangle the strands, and would accidentally mutter an apology whenever he's done so.

As he is brushing its hair, he would tell stories about his work, relaying everything he knew that day. "The other clothing 're gorgeous. Y'would've loved it," he would tell the unresponsive mannequin. "They fit you just well, I bet. Just like this one…" And then, he would tell it everything about the material of the clothes the mannequin was wearing.

Once he is done, he took a step back and reveled in the mannequin's beauty. It looks as perfect as it can be. He stooped down a bit and cupped its face in his hands. He ran his calloused thumb down its cheeks, and gently rested it on its bottom lip. It didn't even feel like carved wood under his hand. Even more so, the warmth of his hand gave the illusion of the mannequin being warm as well.

Juza sighed, unable to explain why an object—of all things—managed to make his chest feel this tight just a day after seeing it. Still not removing his hands, he fixed his eyes to the mannequin, hoping to find an answer. Not even a hint of consolation is offered, as it still gives its neutral expression in return. The knots within his chest grew tighter.

In an attempt to loosen said knots, he gently pressed his lips at the corner of the mannequin's left eye. Once again, it offered no response but its stare. He sighed, his chest still tight.

"Let's get you back there, hm?" he said in resignation, lifting the mannequin up. It felt weightless in his hands, adding to its fragility in Juza's eyes. It's a ridiculous thought to have, he thinks, as the mannequin is easily as tall as him.

Before putting it back to its dais, he muttered an apology for being so brazen with it tonight. In a curious moment however, its expression became softer… more playful, even. Juza blinked in surprise, only to see the mannequin's expression becoming neutral once more.

He ultimately decreed that it was just the sleepiness getting into him. And so, he carried it back, bridal style, to its spot in the display window. After making sure it is secured in its position, he cleaned up the entirety of the shop, locked the doors and left.

—

"You wanna find out more about the mannequin?" Yuki asked, laughing bemusedly at the question. "Of all things… I mean, I said all I knew about him yesterday,"

"But the part about it bein' alive or somethin'..." Juza replied in a hushed tone "Did that seller say anythin' else?"

"Well, if you insist…" Yuki replied, still holding back laughter "Creepy old man insisted that this doll's alive and responds to affection or something like that,"

Juza nodded, absentmindedly cutting silk, lost in thought.

"He also said something like it would actually go to life if someone loved it dearly," Yuki then turned to see Juza's expression. "Wait, you're actually thinking about it?! You can't be serious,"

"N-no?" Juza jumped, rather startled at the accusation. "It's jus' that…"

"Well, I get it," Yuki said, grabbing the cloth that Juza had cut. "He's a real beauty, I tell you. Customers always ask me where I got such a lifelike mannequin, some even offering to buy him from me!"

"Seriously?"

"You see, he's very beautiful, and that's why I refuse to give in to their offers" Yuki added "He's part of my artistic vision. I want to see my work shine, and he makes it happen in the way I envision it,"

—

And so, for weeks on end, Juza's feelings for the mannequin festered and took root deep in his heart. He cannot go on a work day without glancing at it or making fruitless small talk. He cannot even go to sleep at the comfort of his own home without remembering the multiple times he's seen things—a soft look, a playful gaze, a longing stare—all from the mannequin. And even so, he rationalized it as him projecting his feelings.

And more so, he was dedicated to making sure the mannequin is well-maintained and pampered. Not a hair strand out of place, not a speck of dust landing on him. Even more so, its joints are well-oiled enough that it moved realistically when Juza would hoist it back to its rightful place.

Juza would occasionally indulge in the fantasy that he is its lover. He would let the mannequin sit on his lap, gently run his fingers through its hair. Sometimes he would hold it close, whispering declarations of love that he knew it wouldn't hear. Hold its hands, and give it the gentlest of squeezes. Leave a chaste kiss on its scalp, hands, and cheek.

"I don't know why I'm feelin' this way," he sighed. It was one of those nights where he would hold it close to him, swaying it around as if they were both enjoying a slow dance.

Juza clung on to it desperately, but still careful enough not to tear off the tiny jewels sewn into its clothing. "I wish you were real instead." he told the mannequin.

"But that's silly," he buries his head into its shoulder "Because then I'd be too scared to talk to you like this…"

He sighed again, carrying it back to its spot in the display window—bridal style like he always does.

Before he sets it down and retires for the night however, he brought the mannequin's head closer to him and closed the gap. It felt like the longest proper kiss he'd ever had.

Juza was so into it that he even imagined the mannequin's warm lips trembling under his own. His own skin felt so hot that even the mannequin started to feel warm under his skin as well. He pulled away, feeling his heart and lungs starting to give out.

And even as he pulled away, he is only greeted by its neutral expression. It's almost unfair how it could look serene and undisturbed in contrast to his helpless, breathless state.

Feeling defeated, he only offered a tired, but still affectionate "Goodnight, I'll see you tomorrow" and a peck on the temple before setting the mannequin in place and locking up shop.

—

Juza was extremely startled to find the mannequin missing from his usual spot in the display window when he got to work the next early morning. He immediately rushed inside, hoping to find Yuki and convince him that despite what the crime scene looks like, he didn't steal the mannequin.

Only for those trains of thought to die on the spot upon seeing the scene inside.

It was Yuki sitting on the floor, his face a mix of surprise, annoyance and confusion. Cradled in his arms is a flaxen-haired man whose sprawled on the floor and back facing him.

Upon further inspection, he noted that the clothes the man is wearing is similar to the ones the mannequin was wearing when he left for the day. Juza's heart dropped down to the pits of his stomach.

Before any of them can say a word, the man faced Juza, his expression suddenly turned into that of extreme longing once the man has seemingly recognized Juza's face. Those familiar brilliant blue eyes looking for love.

Now this is what he had to explain to Yuki instead.