​Yunho hated the rain. It was sticky on his skin and squeaked against his fingers as he tried to rub it off, and the water seeped into his clothes and stayed there. It plastered his hair into thin strands on his face and against his head. It sat in pools, ripe to become mosquito breeding grounds on the sidewalk, where it mixed with earth to stain his sneakers with mud. ​

And there was the smell, that moldy, stagnant dampness that clung to the ground long after the rain stopped. ​

But most of all, he hated the rainbows that came after the storm, the obnoxious slash of colors across the sky, as if its stupid cheerfulness was supposed to make him feel better. ​

He glanced at his watch. 10:30. He sighed and ran a finger through his sopping hair, shaking off the droplets that clung to his hand. His foster mother would be sure to throw a fit when she saw him like this, rain-soaked and shivering. Bracing himself for the lecture that was sure to come, he blinked the tiny drops of rain out of his eyes and trudged up the driveway. ​

The key wasn’t in its usual hiding place under the potted plants on the windowsill, so Yunho reached for the doorbell, prepared to face the wrath of his foster mother. Instead, the door opened before he could ring and the woman's real son, Changmin, peered at him anxiously.

​“Hyung!” the kid squeaked, shivering from the cold in his footie pajamas. “Where have you been? It’s so late, and Mom was worried-” ​

"Where is she?” Yunho asked, stepping past him and shaking the raindrops from his hair. Changmin winced as a couple landed on his face, and hastily closed the door, wrapping his arms around himself for warmth.

​“She went to sleep. She was going to lock you out all night,” Changmin explained. “She said-” ​

“I’m going to bed,” Yunho interrupted, brushing past the younger boy and kicking off his sneakers. ​

"Hyung, wait! You’ll catch a cold if you don’t change out of those clothes, and-” ​

“Don’t call me ‘hyung’,” Yunho snapped. ​

Changmin wilted slightly, but raced after him again as Yunho stomped towards his bedroom. “But hyung!” he called, tripping slightly. “Wait! Why are you so mean? Mom said she was going to send you away if-” ​

Yunho flung open his bedroom door and turned around to face the kid, who flinched back from the force of his glare. “I said, ‘Don’t call me hyung’.” Slamming the door and ignoring Changmin’s whimper, he flopped backwards onto his bed and tucked his hands behind his head. ​

Changmin’s worried face was as annoying as a rainbow. He hated that the kid tried to care about him- his eagerness to help was as disgusting as a rainbow’s obnoxious cheeriness. ​

the rainwater from his lips, Yunho felt a fuzziness seize his mind and he closed his eyes to escape it.   ​

"Come in, Yunho,” came the call through the door and with a sigh, Yunho pushed it open and entered. ​

Yoochun, his social worker, was seated behind a large desk. He folded his hands as Yunho came up and slumped down in the chair in front of the desk. Yoochun sighed in exasperation and held up his hands. “This is the third time I’ve received demands for you to be relocated, Yunho. Why can’t you try to get along with your foster family?” ​

“What’d she say about me this time?” Yunho asked disinterestedly, as he slouched down. ​

"Well, it basically boils down to you never listening to her rules and tormenting Changmin. Why would you bully the kid, Yunho? He looks to you like an older brother-” ​

“He’s not my brother,” Yunho shot back. ​

"Fair enough,” Yoochun replied. “I don’t understand, Yunho. Do you like antagonizing everybody? Is that it?” ​

"I’m done talking,” Yunho snapped, pushing off from his chair and heading towards the door. “Write whatever you want in your report. I don’t care if I get relocated.” ​

"Not so fast,” Yoochun called and Yunho slowly turned. “I think it’s time we try a new tactic to teach you to get along with people better.” ​

Yunho didn’t like the sound of that at all. “What are you talking about?” ​

"We’re proposing that you spend an hour each day volunteering at Jumon Sanatorium,” Yoochun replied. ​

"You mean ‘Curse’?" Yunho said in disbelief, referring to the popular mispronunciation of the mental hospital’s name. The nickname was a reference to the urban legend that people sent in never came back out and anyone who came in touch with the patients trapped behind its walls would never quite be the same again. ​

“How does 3-4pm sound?” Yoochun asked, penciling it into Yunho’s file. ​

“Hell, no!” Yunho snapped. “I am not hanging out with…with a bunch of freaks!” ​

"Watch what you call them,” Yoochun warned. “And why not? It’s not like you’ve got anything better to do. Your teachers say you skip class on a regular basis, never turn in your homework, and don’t participate in any after school activities. And with your sparkling personality, I’m sure you have tons of friends, right?” ​

Yunho said nothing as he glared at the crisp collar of the white coat hanging from the back of Yoochun’s chair. ​

"I expect you to take this seriously, Yunho,” Yoochun warned. “You may get a lot more out of it than you think you will.” ​

"Doubt it,” Yunho muttered as he stormed out of the office.  ​

"You’re sure this will work,” Hangeng murmured as he watched Yunho storm out of the building through the window.

​“I’m not sure,” Yoochun replied. “But we’ve never encountered something like this before. We can only hope to cure it with an experimental method.” ​

"You understand why I have my doubts,” Hangeng said as he turned away to face the younger man. “I have tried everything already. I’m afraid his case is hopeless.” ​

"You haven’t tried this,” Yoochun countered, trying to keep his tone respectful despite the disdainful look Hangeng was giving him. “Please, just give me a few weeks. If we don’t see any improvement, I’ll concede that I was wrong.”

​Hangeng thought for a while before finally nodding curtly. “Very well. I’ll give you three weeks to start.” Yoochun nodded his thanks. ​

Please, Yunho, he thought as he left the room. For both our sakes. Please work with me.   ​

Yunho scowled as he straightened the stupid red vest that the too-happy volunteer coordinator had handed to him (“the uniform makes everyone feel like part of the team!”). The only bright side was that the job itself wasn’t too difficult. He just had to talk to a bunch of crazies for an hour. ​

So when was it over? ​

Glancing around the room, he spotted one guy sitting on the ground, staring at the wall. Nearby, a younger boy was curled up with his arms over his head, rocking back and forth and whimpering to himself. As he turned, a third guy flipped over a table with a crazed scream, and security guards flooded into the room to drag him away. ​

Talking to normal people was supposed to help them learn “social skills” to help them integrate into society again, but in Yunho’s unprofessional opinion, these guys were beyond help. ​

"Hi!” Yunho turned to see a short, dark-haired boy grinning up at him. Geez, how old was this kid? Six? Seven? Yunho almost felt sorry for him, trapped forever in this cursed place. ​

"My name’s Junsu! What’s your name?” ​

"Yunho,” Yunho replied as the kid grabbed his hand and led him to a playset with a toy racetrack. ​

“Wanna play?” Junsu asked, grabbing a toy car. He backed it up and let go, giggling as the car veered off the track and landed upside down. ​

“No, thanks,” Yunho said faintly, unable to tear his eyes away from the spinning plastic wheels.

​“Aww.” Junsu huffed slightly. “Hyukjae won’t play with me either. It’s no fun to play alone.” ​

“Who’s Hyukjae?” Yunho asked. ​

"Him,” Junsu replied, pointing to the empty couch. “He’s hiding from you. He doesn’t like strangers, even though I told him that you seem really nice.” ​

"Uh-huh.” Yunho glanced back at the clock. 3:15. How was that possible? He’d definitely been here for much longer than that! It felt like years had passed! Maybe time was warped in this hellhole, too. ​

Junsu seemed to forget about him, and Yunho would have been content to just sit and watch the kid play, until he noticed the volunteer coordinator glaring at him from the doorway. He glared back, but the woman crossed her arms and looked pointedly at Junsu.

​Yunho groaned. He couldn’t think of anything to say; all of their suggestions- “Talk about your hobbies and interests! I’m sure you can find common ground!”- were completely useless. He didn’t have any interests. Instead, he randomly pointed his finger in a direction and asked, “Who’s that?”

​Junsu looked up and turned towards the boy that Yunho was pointing at. He yelped and ducked behind the toy table as Yunho glanced at the patient he’d selected. It was a boy about his age, with dark greasy hair that was matted and stuck out in all directions. His head was bent over a sheet of paper and he seemed to be intently drawing something. ​

“That’s Jaejoong,” Junsu whispered. “He’s scary.” ​

"Scary? Why?” ​

"His eyes…he sees more than you think,” the kid whispered, before shaking himself and bending his head over the racetrack again. Yunho resisted the urge to laugh as he climbed to his feet. Anyone who could have that kind of effect on a little kid was bound to be interesting.

​Jaejoong didn’t look up as Yunho seated himself across the table and cleared his throat. “Hey. I’m Yunho.” The other boy never reacted. “You deaf or something?” Still nothing. Yunho tried to smirk, but in the face of the other boy’s silence, it slipped from his face as quickly as it came. “So, what are you drawing?” ​

Jaejoong still didn’t look up, but he pushed a stack of completed drawings towards Yunho, who picked up the first one with a confused frown.

​It was a rainbow. ​

More specifically, it was a swirling vortex of color that merged into an ugly brown. He held it out at arm’s length and studied it. The shape was strange, a sort of oval that flattened out at the bottom with drops of color splashing out from it, tails pointing away from the center. ​

"Pretty,” Yunho said awkwardly, unsure of what else to say, as he handed the drawing back. ​

Jaejoong stiffened so much, Yunho was afraid he’d said something to offend the other boy. The patient looked like he was about to attack as he slowly turned his head and fixed his icy dark eyes on Yunho. “Wh-what is it?” Yunho ventured. ​

"A rainbow is the summation of sunlight refracted off raindrops and bend at various degrees according to wavelength,” Jaejoong hissed in a voice raspy from lack of use. “It is science. It is not pretty.” ​

“O-okay,” Yunho gulped. ​

When the clock struck four, Yunho sprinted out of the room, propelled by a fear rather than boredom. Even as he ran, he could feel Jaejoong’s dark eyes boring straight through him, stripping away his skin and flesh and leaving his bones bare to the world. ​

That night, he dreamt of colorful whirlpools and Junsu and Jaejoong’s all-seeing eyes. But when he woke up, sick to his stomach and drenched in sweat, he couldn’t remember a thing.