For any given year in history, past and future, if you tell YoonSan the month and date, he can tell you what day of the week it was or will be. If you ask him about February 25, 1993, he would tell you that it  was a Thursday. December 21, 1975 was a Sunday. November 3, 2099 will be a Tuesday, and also by then YoonSan like everyone else in the room would already be dead.

 

Taehyun doesn’t see anything remarkable about this. Why would he need to know what day of the week his birthday fell on during the first World War? Of what significance would it be?

 

Hojeong was flapping around the room . It must be a Monday.

 

Mondays mean YoonSan and Hojeong. It means four hours of trying to get Hojeong to sit down and recite a few chapters from the book he just read. Hojeong has the ability to memorize anything and everything,  the only talent he has aside from flashing his junk to poor unsuspecting interns like Taehyun.

 

 

Wednesdays mean Moonkyu and Junhyuk. It means hours and hours of inhaling acrylic paint fumes. Junhyuk is relatively normal. You just have to keep him away from walls, lest he runs out of canvas to paint on. Moonkyu on the other hand needs a lot of attention in the most literal sense.

 

"Taehyun, look at my painting! Look at it! Isn't it pretty? Isn't it?"

 

"Yes, it is." Taehyun would say, barely sparing a glance at the other's work, only to be yanked and sat in front of it for the next ten minutes, half-listening to Moonkyu yap about it, half-wondering why it wasn’t Friday yet.

 

Fridays mean Ha Sungwoon. Sungwoon means peace and quiet for a whole afternoon, something that Taehyun doesn't get a lot working with these people that science calls special.

 

Sungwoon likes to hang out in the hug machine. Taehyun doesn't understand how anyone could find being squished in such contraption even remotely relaxing. But hey, if it keeps Sungwoon relaxed and calm, then all the better for Taehyun.

 

Sungwoon, unlike the others didn't like to show off his gift. He didn’t like telling people that upon listening to any musical piece once, he could play it back in cassette recorder precision and even extend the piece, knowing exactly which key, scale, tempo and meter it would be only after a few bars. He didn't like telling them that he sees music in numbers, he hears harmony in colors, he hears melodies in words. He didn't like talking to people at all.

 

Taehyun has never heard Sungwoon play the piano. All Sungwoon ever does is crawl between the side boards of the hug machine and  squeeze himself all afternoon until his sister picks him up at four. Taehyun doesn’t mind since Friday afternoon was his self proclaimed pre weekend vacation from these people they call savants. All he's got to do was log in Sungwoon's attendance.

 

Everything was well until one Wednesday afternoon, Moonkyu and Junhyuk broke the hug machine.

 

It wasn’t intentional. It all started with Moonkyu saying "I bet you I can squeeze myself the hardest" and ended with the head researcher  verbally handing Taehyun's to him for not paying attention to his ward.

 

Luckily, the hug machine wasn't in that bad of a condition. It could still be fixed in two to four weeks and it wouldn’t be deducted from his nonexistent salary. His sessions with Sungwoon however would have to take a totally different direction without the hug machine. Maybe it was time that he listens to Sungwoon play some music.

Ha Sungwoon arrives on time, wearing his usual pink sweatpants and black shirt. He was rather small and thin for his age and his eyes resembled those of cats, luminous and bright yet somehow lifeless. Taehyun gets him to sit down in front of the piano.

"Hug machine…" 

It was like a whisper but that was Sungwoon's normal voice. It was soft and airy. 'Just like a cat," Taehyun thought.

"The Wednesday people broke it." It was all going downhill from here, Taehyun was sure. Damn, Moonkyu and Junhyuk.

 

"Hug machine."  Sungwoon looked distressed about it. But if Taehyun were being more honest, he looked cuter like that, a small pout on his lips. If Sungwoon wasn't a subject and patient, Taehyun would be getting his number. If Sungwoon were like any other person, Taehyun would be trying to get into his pants.

 

"I… It's being fixed. For now, you can play with the piano." It was hard to argue with people with autism. Taehyun didn't exactly understand how their brain works. The only thing he knew is that it was wired differently. He would have a clue if only he read their files but he didn't . He doesn't even know the type or extent of Sungwoon's autism. He didn’t know if he was the type to throw violent tantrums or will he verbally lash out at Taehyun and call him names. If he was in any physical danger, Taehyun had no clue. 

Sungwoon was now showing physical signs of distress. His breathing is visibly difficult and he was looking at Taehyun as if it were all his fault. Taehyun was in distress as well. He wasn’t ready for this.

 

Just when all seemed so dark and bleak, a spark of hope lit up in Taehyun's mind. The hug machine wasn’t the only thing that can hug Sungwoon in this room. He can BE the hug machine.

He wrapped his arms around the smaller male and pat his back while singing, "Soft kitty. Warm kitty. Little ball of fur." Instantly Sungwoon's tense body eased up.

"Happy kitty. Sleepy kitty. Purr, purr, purr." And with that, Sungwoon was happily nuzzling on his chest like a tame kitten. He smelled good and felt soft.

 

Maybe breaking the hug machine wasn't so bad.