All the way from the floor to the ceiling, the walls were covered in drawings.

With the vivid colours and the fat, sloppy lines, they made the room look like some bizarre elementary school classroom.

Stepping inside, Yesung found himself torn.

Should he be intrigued… or scared?

On Yesung’s left, a picture showed a man with a book, a basketball and a halo around his head, with a giant letter “H” on his shirt. Right next to it hung a huge pink heart with the word “DEATH” etched into it, surrounded by more hearts and flowers.

From the opposite wall waved a group of smiling stick figures – but even the tallest of them were dwarfed by one enormous sunflower. One drawing was half white, half black, with the word “ME” spread over both.

But the most disturbing by far, and the one that sent down Yesung’s back a pair of icy chills, was a canvas that was completely bare – except it had been dipped completely in black paint. On closer inspection, there were many of those – blank black canvases looking down on him from the walls, like pairs of dead eyes.

“You okay?” asked Hyukjae, not unkindly. Following Yeusng’s wide-eyed gaze, he chuckled.

“… Guess our drawings do look scary,” he said, eyeing the pink heart especially, “I’ve never really thought about that… living here for so long and all.”

That’s when Yesung’s plans to think of some excuse to run away from this weird room were murdered by an impatient Donghae.

“Hyungs come on! What are you waiting for!” he pouted, dragging both Hyukjae and Yesung inside before Yesung could even blink.

Still not quite sure he wasn’t going to bolt right out, Yesung gingerly took a seat next to Hyukjae. Trying not to look at the walls, Yeusng only now noticed Kibum had disappeared – when, he couldn’t say. Frankly, it was easy to forget Kibum – the guy spoke almost as little as Yesung.

Suddenly deciding to try to focus on the positive, Yesung noticed there were places for only four people in the therapy room. Inaudibly, he let out a sigh of relief. Crowds were really not his thing.

But that’s when worse got to worst.

“Hey, HI!!!” chippered someone right from the door, walking fast towards Yesung with a huge shining smile on his face. Without asking, the stranger slumped into the seat next to Yesung, fixed his cartoon pajama as though it was an elegant dress, then turned to Yesung.

“Hi! What’s your na – wait, I already know that. Do you like flamingos? I love them. I love pink and I love feathers so it’s a win-win situation, isn’t it, hehe? Blondie Hyukjae once had cards, at least until Henry ate them and they had to wash out his stomach in another hospital – that was terrible, he retched all over my best shirt – anyways Donghae told my future from the cards and he said I was a flamingo in my future past life! Isn’t that great? I’d like to be a bird. Birds can fly and they have really thin legs, like models from that magazine Sungmin had. I wish I was a model. A bird model. What were you in your past life? I bet you were a turtle. Turtles don’t talk much, and they don’t walk much. But when you want to hunt them, they hide and no one can ever get them. Except maybe FBI. They can get anybody, Hannie told me so. Why isn’t he here?”

A whole minute had passed until Yesung’s brain processed a third of what the man had said. He was still struggling with the “future past life” part, when the last two people entered the room.

* * *

A shadow slipped right past him, faster than thought, to claim the only empty seat at the back. The instant he sat down, Kyuhyun reached for the small can of black paint on his table – completely ignoring Han, who entered right after him and softly closed the door.

A sudden hush fell over the patients. Even Yesung’s flamingo-loving friend stopped talking. The admiration for the psychologist could be felt in the very air.

What’s so special about him? thought Yesung. If anything, the man looked plain, with deep shadows under his eyes and loose threads hanging from his old cotton shirt.

Shining eyes fixed on Han, Donghae was already clutching a green and a yellow marker. No doubt he wants to draw a sunflower, the nutjob.

“Good morning. You guys slept alright?”

Even Kyuhyun grunted in approval – if Yesung’s ears didn’t deceive him.

“I think there’s no need to introduce Yesung, and he’d probably like a break from all the attention right now.”

Damn right I would, thought Yesung.

“We drew ourselves yesterday, or what we thought would represent us – so how about drawing someone else today? Someone you love or hate – but someone who’s important in your life.”

“Can it be a sunflower?” asked Donghae.

“Can it be a pink flamingo?“

Han only smiled as though those were perfectly reasonable questions. “It can be anything – it’s up to you. But, it would be best if it was a person.”

“Can it be a friend kind of person?” asked Donghae.

“Yes,” replied Han, “It can be a friend, of course.”

The answer seem to burden Donghae  a lot. He first stared at Yesung for a bit, until Yeusng was shifting nervously in his seat. Then, he gazed at Hyukjae. Then, back at Yesung.

“What’s the matter?” asked Han, approaching Donghae’s table.

Almost in tears, Donghae looked up at the psychologist. “I do want to draw a friend. But… I have two! Which one should I draw?”

What Yesung felt at that moment was difficult to put a finger on – it was a mish-mashed stew of pity, awkwardness, fear… and being completely charmed.

“Maybe you could draw both of them?” suggested Han.

At that, Donghae’s mouth formed a perfect “O”.

“HANNIE IS SO SMART!!!” exclaimed Donghae, almost falling over his desk while trying to hug his mentor.

“Hey, pass me that. If you, like, don’t need it.”

Suddenly sitting upright, Yesung whirled around.

Sure enough, it was Kyuhyun. With a death-pale finger, he pointed towards Yesung’s little can of black paint. Kyuhyun’s own supply was already all spent on colouring his canvas black, but he still had half of the paper to go.

At that moment, both Hyukjae and Donghae cut their conversation to snap around as well - as though Kyuhyun asking almost politely for a favour was a rare and fascinating phenomena.

Time seemed to have stopped. As if in slow motion, Yesung stood up. Almost dropping it, he picked up the little can. Walking to the back of the room, he tried to give it to Kyuhyun.

Noticing the sudden silence, Han, who had pulled a chair next to the guy with the flamingos, stopped talking to the patient. For the first time, Yesung saw Han lose his calmness and smile. Anxiously, the psychologist eyed only Kyuhyun, hands still frozen in a forgotten gesture.

But Kyuhyun was acting even stranger.

At first, Kyuhyun reached for the can in Yesung’s hand, confidently, almost casually.

But the instant before he would grab it, Kyuhyun suddenly pulled his hand away, as if burnt by fire.

Perhaps Yesung’s eyes were failing him, but in that instant, he thought he saw a flash of pure fear sprint across Kyuhyun’s face.

Casting a look at Han, Kyuhyun bit his lips, unsure. Gingerly, he tried again, as if his own arm was made of glass – but just as quickly as last time, he snapped his hand back.

A soft sigh and a THUMP echoed though the silent room, as Han dropped his head on the table, apparently in defeat.

Tired of trying to understand what the heck just happened, Yesung was about to return to his seat. Hell, why don’t I just leave it on his desk?

It was then Yesung finally realized something important was going on, something infinitely more significant that borrowing a little bottle of paint.

But before he could, Kyuhyun, as if made desperate by the psychologist’s reaction, made a third attempt to simply take an object from another person’s hand.

However, in a flash, the black paint was somehow spilt all over the sandy carpet, seeping into the fabric and making a black ocean on the floor. The empty can rolled away and hit a wall, clanging loud as thunder in the tense silence.

No one can cross this black ocean, Yesung thought, absurdly. It’s impossible.

But, perhaps, there was truth to that. The black paint, spreading over the carpet, soon surrounded Kyuhyun completely. It almost felt as if Kyuhyun himself was creating it, this ocean of darkness, an ocean so deep and black no soul could safely sail over it.

But someone’s going to have to, Yesung realized, feeling the most frightened he ever felt in his whole entire life, watching Kyuhyun gaze, motionless, into the depths of the black ocean. The boy’s eyes looked lost, almost dead. Someone’s going to have to, because if they don’t, this guy will-…

It was long before Kyuhyun stopped staring below into the black. He glanced at Yesung but looked away instantly, as if he couldn’t meet his eyes. Then, he turned to Han… but the psychologist couldn’t hide his disappointment.

“Wha- WHAT?!” yelled Kyuhyun, and the sound seemed to shake the room. ”Forget about what I said, I CAN’T!!!” The look he sent Yeusng was almost apologetic, but his words were aimed at Hangeng.

“Listen, Kyuhyun,” tried the psychologist, but before he could even finish, Kyuhyun exploded.

“I CAN’T, I CAN’T, I. SIMPLY. CAN’T!!!”

Storming out, Kyuhyun slammed the door so hard the drawings on the wall shuddered at the force.

It took a whole five minutes for Han to regain his composure. To Yeusng’s surprise, he didn’t hurry after Kyuhyun. Instead, taking a deep breath, he tried to smile again like he used to – but it was obvious something was wrong.

“Well, that was… But let’s continue with our drawings, okay?”

He wouldn’t think it possible, but just a few minutes later, Yesung all but forgot the whole incident. Hangeng’s heart was clearly elsewhere, but Donghae and Hyukjae were as lively as ever. With their help, the morning passed in a flash. Just how long he’d spent in the therapy room, Yesung couldn’t later recall.

And, while Donghae drew Yesung and Hyukjae with sunflowers in their hair, and Heechul talked about flamingos and models and past lives and other things that didn’t make any sense, Yesung caught himself thinking crazy people weren’t so bad. By the end of their session, the drawings on the walls didn’t seem so scary anymore.

But when it was time for lunch, and Yesung made his way towards the door, laughing at something Hyukjae said, his eyes feel upon the black ocean again.

And, for some reason, it bothered him. It bothered him more than he could ever say – even if he could speak.

What he wanted most – was to mop it all up.