The first time they meet is an accident. Suho is eight years old, old enough, according to his father, to go and fetch water from the spring by himself. So, carrying the heavy clay jar in his small, underfed arms, Suho scuttles off on his skinny legs down a sparsely wooded path he could walk with his eyes closed.

It's the middle of summer and the worst drought that anyone can remember is slowly killing Suho's family's farm. The grass is dry and crackly and brushes against Suho's thighs as thousands of cicadas chitter in the trees. As Suho rounds the bend in the narrow dirt path, he comes to the only thing that is keeping the farm alive, a small freshwater spring that bubbles up in a hollow. The grass here is green and lush and a lovely cool breeze blows through the small glade.

Suho places the jar carefully on a mound of grass before cupping his hands and scooping some of the cold clear spring water into his mouth. He it down greedily before wiping his mouth and dipping the clay jar into the spring. With a grunt, he hefts the half-full jug in his thin arms and waddles back down the path, trying his best not to spill a single drop of the precious water.

Halfway back, when he can just see his house in the distance, Suho pauses to catch his breath and readjust the jug in his arms. That's when the air is sundered with a blinding flash of light and the loudest clap of thunder Suho has ever heard. He screams and drops the jug, which shatters on the ground, the water seeping into the parched earth.

He alternates between rubbing his stinging eyes and rubbing his ringing ears. Slowly, Suho's vision clears, but either the cicadas have fallen silent or he still can't hear. The first thing he sees is the broken remains of the jug and he groans. That had been one of the ones his mother made. The second thing he sees is a blackened circle of grass, flattened outward by some huge force. Considering how dry it's been, it's a of luck that the lightning didn't set the grass on fire.

The third and final thing Suho notices is the boy lying curled and still in the epicenter of the blackened circle. Suho forgets the broken jar and the blackened grass and rushes to the boy's side. He kneels down and gingerly touches the boy's bare arm. He instantly jerks his hand back as a spark of electricity shocks him.

The boy's eyes snap open. They're silver, and Suho realizes that the boy probably isn't human. The boy sits up, glares at Suho, and opens his mouth. A sound that resembles an eagle's screech mixed with the crackle of thunder comes from his throat.

He continues to glare at Suho, who just stares back at the strange boy with silver eyes. The boy looks about his age, maybe a bit younger. His hair is black, but there's something a little off about it, like there are feathers mixed with his hair. He has sharp cheekbones and sharp eyes and a sharp nose and Suho can't help but stare at this unearthly boy that came from a lightning bolt.

"What's your name?" he asks finally, and the boy blinks at him uncomprehendingly.

"I'm Suho." Suho smiles and sticks out his hand to shake the lightning boy's. But the boy lets out a warble and backs away, his eyes widening in fear.

"Why are you scared?" Suho asks, edging closer. The boy spits out the eagle screech and thunder crackle and long trails of lightning dance along his arms, daring Suho to get closer. Suho pauses, wondering how much it would hurt to get shocked by that much lightning, and then he notices that the boy's knee is starting to bleed.

"You're hurt!" he exclaims, and without hesitation Suho tears off a piece of his shirt and crawls towards the lightning boy, who lets out increasingly panicked noises the closer Suho gets. By the time Suho reaches him, the boy is trembling, his eyes as wide as they go.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," Suho reassures him, and the lightning boy stares into his eyes for a long time before looking away and chirping quietly. Suho takes this as permission to bandage the boy's leg, so he begins to wrap the piece of shirt around the boy's leg. When he finishes, the boy stares at Suho again, then opens his mouth. Suho, who is expecting another bird noise, is shocked by what the boy says.

"Ssssuho."

The boy says it so slowly Suho isn't aware that the boy is repeating Suho's name. The boy points to Suho and says it again.

"Suho."

He's a bit more confident this time, and smiles, sure that he's got it right. Suho nods back and grins. He points to himself and says, "Suho" and then points to the boy, a questioning look in his eyes.

The boy points to himself and lets out a noise that Suho is sure he could never duplicate. He tries anyway.

"Chen?"

The boy shakes his head and makes the noise again. Suho tries again.

"Chen."

The boy looks at him with a "you have got to be kidding me" expression, sighs, then nods.

"Chen," the boy says.

Suho smiles, then he remembers the reason he was sent outside in the first place. To get water. Then he remembers that he broke his mother's jug.

"Oh no," he cries as he whirls around to pick up the pieces of the broken clay pitcher. Chen chirps at him and walks over to Suho. He squats next to Suho and his head to the side before picking up a piece of the jug and squinting at it. He looks at Suho, wordlessly asking him to explain.

Suho takes the piece from Chen and fights back tears.

"I was supposed to get water for the garden. We haven't had rain for so long…" he trails off, but Chen perks up at the word "rain".

"Rain?" he chirrups, a smile curving his lips. Suho looks at him, wondering why he knows that word.

"Yeah, rain. The farm really needs it," he says slowly, hoping that by talking slower Chen will understand more.

"Suho rain? Rain Suho?" Chen asks excitedly, blinking at Suho with a wide smile. Suho blinks back, still not sure what Chen is asking.

"Are you asking…if I want it to rain?" Suho replies, feeling completely lost.

Chen screws up his face in concentration before rephrasing his question.

"Rain for Suho?"

Suho nods, a small smile quirking his lips.

Chen grins, then jumps up, dusting the dirt from his knees. He takes a deep breath and starts to sing. Suho is spellbound. He's never heard such a beautiful voice before. There are no words to the song, but Suho somehow feels the meaning of it as the once cloudless sky grows dark with thunderclouds and the heavens rumble ominously.

Suho is so busy gaping at Chen that he almost misses the first raindrop that falls in front of him. It's followed by another, and another, until the clouds decide to dump their burdens at once and rain starts falling in sheets. Once that happens, Chen stops singing and turns to Suho, his grin even wider than before.

"Rain for Suho."

Before Suho has a chance to react, to yell, to laugh, or even to thank Chen, the air is split by a purple white lightning bolt and Suho is deafened for the second time by a clap of thunder, and by the time he can see again, Chen has disappeared.