The boy let out a small hiss as Ravi poured more hot water from the pot into the brass tub that sat in the corner of the kitchen. He looked up with wide eyes and winced as a large sponge about the size of his palm was dropped in front of him, causing a small splash. But this seemed to go unnoticed by Ravi, who simply kneeled beside the tub, picking up a grimy looking bar of soap from the floor. He had called for the town's doctor when they reached home. He wanted to be sure that the boy was not made ill by his venture into the cold "So," he said, dipping the soap in the water and beginning to rub it furiously onto the sponge to create a while lather "Do you have a name?" 

Pink lips pursed. "N- N... aaaame?"

Ravi let out a long sigh and sat back on his heels; this was going to be more difficult than he thought. "Name," he repeated, the pace of his speech matching the boy's as he pointed to himself "I am Ravi." 

The boy watched his lips work to form the sounds intently before he tilted his head, pointing hesitantly "Ra...vi?" It didn't sound as though it was supposed to come out as a question, but it did.

"That's right," he smiled gently before extending a hand "And you are?" He began to rub the sponge on the boy's back, being as careful as he could.The skin seemed much too delicate like he would start bleeding the moment too much pressure was applied. It was far too soft for somebody who had been found wandering in the snow. The boy didn't reply and simply looked down, poking at the water with the tip of his finger and then watching the residue drip from his fingernail, creating small ripples between his legs. "I am Ravi," he mumbled, so low Ravi barely heard him. 

He stopped washing the boy and took his chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing him to look up. "No," he said, clearing his throat. Despite his best efforts to keep calm in the situation, he found himself growing quite impatient now. He pointed to himself  "I am Ravi. Now, you are..." He gestured to the boy, whose face broke out into a wide smile. 

Ravi watched with fascination as the boy began to chatter to himself in his own language, beautifully accented and causing the very tip of his tongue to dart out of his mouth every few moments. Then, he stopped. He looked back up at Ravi through a thick curtain of raven hair and frowned "I..." He paused "I Taekwoon."

"Taekwoon," Ravi hummed, picking up the sponge once more and getting to work on washing the boy's shoulders and chest. "That's unusual. Mine's French- to delight, I think. My father picked it." Taekwoon gave a small smile, even though Ravi knew he didn't understand a word that was being said. "We're going to have to take that wreath out of your hair," he continued "I need to wash it." He found himself talking as though he was speaking to a small child; soft and tender. 

Taekwoon made a small sound at the back of his throat but didn't protest as the flowers and berries were plucked from his head and placed on the floor at Ravi's feet as he looked around the room. It was tiny. 

The walls were a dull yellow and the floor was laid with dark red tiles. The window sat over the sink, the checkered curtains matching the walls, and a pair of wilted white roses were potted in what looked to be an old jam jar. There seemed to be one of everything on the shelf: one plate, one wine glass, one mug... But there were two chairs at the dining table. Taekwoon tugged on Ravi's sleeve and pointed at the extra piece of furniture, seemingly puzzled by its presence, and Ravi smiled softly as he finally untangled the last daisy from the boy's hair and followed his curious gaze. "Oh, that? That is for my friend- you might meet her later, actually. She is bringing some groceries for me this afternoon; she visits me often."

"Ravi friend?"

"Yes," he nodded, rinsing out the sponge and going to retrieve a bowl from one of the cabinets under the sink. He then filled it with water before pouring it over Taekwoon's head, causing his hair to cascade down his face and over his eyes. The boy didn't hesitate to run a hand over his face, pushing all his hair back. Scrunching his eyes up, he muttered something sharp in his own language and Ravi let out a low chuckle. Taekwoon was probably cursing him, he knew. "Sorry," he grinned "I just want to get you out and dressed before the doctor comes. You'll have to wear some of my clothes for now."

Soon, the boy was sat at the table, staring into a glass of water and tugging on the long sleeves of one of Ravi's old white shirts. He kept squirming in his seat as if the fabric was irritating his skin. But every time he would attempt to fumble to undo the buttons, Ravi would pull his hands away. "Taekwoon," he warned sternly "Don't touch. Goodness, anybody would think you've never worn clothes before."

Taekwoon frowned slightly and looked as though he was about to retort, but a sharp knock on the door caused him to jump, almost spilling his drink on the floor. His head snapped to Ravi, eyes blown wide. “That’ll be Jaehwan,” Ravi muttered, ignoring the boy's fearful reaction and going to answer the door. Taekwoon remained glued to his seat, fingernails clawing at the tabletop and tapping his toes. He could hear Ravi talking to the stranger who had arrived, his voice sounding brighter but words lost to T