The second time they meet is not an accident.

Suho has never forgotten the strange boy who fell from the sky, even after nearly five years. But despite searching the sky during every thunderstorm, he never catches a glimpse of a thunderbird.

He knows now that Chen was a thunderbird. After returning to the house after their first encounter, soaked to the bone and wide eyed with excitement, he'd told his mother about the strange boy who fell from the sky.

"And then he asked me if I wanted it to rain," he said, his eyes sparkling as his mother dried his hair. "And I said I did, so he stood up and he started to sing, and then it started to rain. And then before I could say thank you, lightning struck him and he disappeared."

His mother smiled gently and hung the towel around Suho's shoulders.

"It sounds like you met a thunderbird."

"A thunderbird?" He asked, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.

"They're the ones in charge of rain. He must have liked you a lot. They don't sing for just anyone," his mother said with a smile.

Suho smiled bashfully and looked at his feet, the image of Chen's silver eyes smiling at him making him blush.

"I liked him a lot too," he said quietly, and his mother laughed.

"Well maybe you'll see him again someday."

That was five years ago. Now it is the middle of winter but no snow has fallen and Suho is standing with his pregnant mother, watching his uncles break up the frozen ground so that the men of the town can lower his father's linen wrapped body into a shallow grave. His little brother Sehun is crying and clinging to Suho's hand but somehow Suho isn't crying. He can't cry, not now, not when his family needs him to be strong.

He's staring at his father's shrouded face and even though he knows somewhere in his mind that he should feel sad, all Suho feels is a slow, creeping numbness that he knows isn't from the wind that is poking it's fingers through the holes in his coat. 

It's the realization that he'll have to drop out of school to work the farm so that his family won't starve. It's the knowledge that he is now the man of the house and he'll have to shoulder half of his mother's burden. It's the sinking feeling that his father had so much more to tell Suho, so much more to teach his son, and Suho will never hear the unspoken words.

When the grave is dug, words of farewell are spoken as Suho's father is laid to rest. The priest, Baekhyun, sings a few solemn hymns that Suho doesn't quite hear over Sehun's crying. Suho, as the eldest son, throws the first handful of dirt into the grave, and the black earth spatters the white linen masking his father's face. His mother throws in a second handful, and a wailing Sehun insists on throwing in a third. Then the men of the town pick up their shovels and cover the body one scoop of dirt at a time and Suho can feel his breath catch with each thump of dirt hitting dead flesh.

The mourners leave in twos and threes, each murmuring something that's supposed to be comforting and his mother smiles faintly and thanks them. Suho knows his mother is trying her hardest not to fall on her knees and wail. So he takes her hand in his own and squeezes it, letting her know that he will take on her burden and that she is allowed to mourn the death of her husband.

After the last mourner has left and the grave is a small mound of freshly turned earth, Suho leads his mother and Sehun back to their house. Sehun has tired himself out with crying and Suho carries him on his back, his skinny arms just starting to show the barest hint of muscle. Sehun's breath is hot against Suho's neck, his breathing even and deep, and Suho finds himself smiling just a bit.

The house is cold. The fire went out sometime while they were gone, and Suho spends ten minutes and too many matches trying to relight it. Finally the kindling catches and soon the orange glow of the fire illuminates the main room of the house.

His mother sits beside the fire in her rocking chair, her normally busy hands folded quietly in her lap and her lips trembling with barely held back sobs.

"Mother," Suho calls softly, and she looks at him, her face drawn and etched with worry. He smiles, very gently.

"I'll put Sehun to bed and check on the horses. You should get some rest." He says, reaching out to take her cold hand. She nods and retreats back into herself, and Suho almost begins to worry, but then her hands pick up her knitting and she starts moving the needles instinctively, the wool yarn shaping into what looks like a thick sweater.

Suho lets out a sigh of relief and scoops Sehun's gangly eight-year-old frame into his arms. Sehun mumbles something in his sleep and nuzzles closer to his brother's chest. Suho smiles and carries his little brother into their shared bedroom, placing the younger on his bed and drawing the warm blankets around the small boy.

He gets a coal from the main fireplace and lights the smaller hearths in the two bedrooms before going back out to the main room to gather his warm clothes. It's just starting to get dark out, and Suho knows that the already freezing temperatures will get even colder once the sun's warmth has disappeared. 

After stealing another glance at his mother, Suho wraps his thick scarf around his neck and face and tugs open the door, struggling against the bitter wind that wants to slam it against the wall. He manages to exit the house and heave the door closed behind him. Suho takes a moment to catch his breath before he begins to walk towards the barn, his feet crunching on the frozen grass.

The barn door protests loudly as he pushes it out of the way, and Suho frowns, making a note to grease the hinges. The horses blink blearily at him and nicker quietly, greeting the boy they've known since they were foals. 

Suho checks each stall, making sure the five horses have enough food and adjusting the blankets on each of their large backs. The last one, a large chestnut gelding named Lay, sticks his nose into Suho's hair and whuffles gently, making Suho smile. He pats Lay's flank and exits the stall. Lay sticks his long face out and whinnies, tossing his head and staring at Suho with knowing eyes. He knows Suho's father is dead, and Suho isn't fooling anyone with his smile.

Suho presses his lips together and walks back to Lay's stall. Lay gently headbutts the boy in front of him and nickers, softly lipping the hands that Suho raises to Lay's nose. It's then that Suho cries, loud, watery sobs that shake his entire frame and leave him gasping for air.

"I'm scared, Lay," he hiccups, and Lay whinnies again, bumping his nose against Suho's shoulder.

A quiet, drawn out "Hoo" makes Suho look up. An owl with enormous round eyes is staring at him and Lay. Lay neighs at it, and the owl blinks at them both before spreading its wings and flying through a hole in the roof and out of sight. Suho sighs and makes another mental note to fix the roof. He smiles again and pats Lay's cheek before walking to the barn door and heaving it open with another load screech from the hinges.

He's closed the door and is about to walk back to the house when the distant rumble of thunder stops him. Instinctively he looks up at the sky. There are no clouds. He feels his heartbeat speed up and he finds himself searching the sky for any sign of a thunderbird.

Suho's almost given up when the thunder rolls across the sky again, louder this time. Without warning a bolt of lightning strikes a dead tree not a hundred feet from the barn. It splits with a terrifying sound and Suho screams despite himself.

Despite his blinded eyes and ringing ears, he hears the clear, bell-like sound of laughter. He blinks frantically, desperate to find the source of the laughter. It's a boy, perched precariously on a blackened limb of the lightning-struck tree. A boy with sharp cheekbones, a sharp nose, and a sharp chin. A boy with eyes that, despite being almost completely closed with mirth, glint silver.

"Chen?" Suho breathes, taking a step towards the tree.

Chen smiles even wider and waves.

"Suho!" he cries in that clear voice, and then leaps from the tree branch to land catlike on his bare feet.

He's not this time, Suho notes with mixed emotions. Well, not completely. He has pants but no shirt, and a cloak that seems to be made of glossy black feathers. Chen walks forward until he's standing in front of Suho. They stare at each other for a while, Chen still smiling and Suho still stunned by Chen's appearance.

Finally Chen realizes that Suho is a little out of it. He his head to the side and blinks, his smile faltering a little.

"Suho?" he chirps, reaching out to touch Suho.

The spark that flies from Chen's fingers to Suho's arm jolts Suho into some form of coherency.

"What are you doing here?" he blurts, and then regrets it because it sounds like he doesn't want Chen there. Chen doesn't seem to mind though, because he smiles again.

"I came for Suho."

Suho stares at Chen, amazed that he can speak in full sentences.

"Why?" Suho asks.

Chen blinks and looks at Suho as if he were stupid.

"Because I love Suho."

Suho's eyes get even wider and a red-hot flush spreads across his face and he desperately pulls the scarf up to hide his cheeks before Chen can notice. Chen seems not to see Suho's flustered movements and instead points back to the splintered tree.

"He told me to come. Because Suho sad."

Suho follows the line of Chen's finger and sees the owl from the barn with its wide round eyes staring back at him smugly.

"Why Suho sad?"

Suho looks back at Chen and sees concern written across the thunderbird's face.

"My father died."

Chen looks confused, but says nothing. Suho looks down at the ground, tears forcing their way out of his eyes.

"How I make Suho happy?"

Chen's voice is small and timid, as though he doesn't know how to handle Suho, as though Suho is a tiny, fragile thing that will break at any moment.

"Will you sing for me?" Suho asks, looking at Chen and remembering the beautiful song that brought rain.

Chen frowns and shakes his head.

"I bring rain when I sing. This…not when rain….be?" Chen struggles with his words, squawking with frustration when he can't find the right ones.

Suho's shoulders slump, and Chen looks at him apologetically.

"I hug Suho?" Chen says brightly, holding out his arms invitingly.

Suho smiles and steps into them, burying his face into the crook of Chen's neck and nearly sneezing from the feathers in his nose. Chen is warm despite the cold air, and the skin of his neck feels tingly and pleasant against Suho's cheek.

"Thank you," he mutters, and he feels Chen hum in reply. He wants to stay in Chen's arms forever, but he feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise and Chen suddenly shoves Suho away, his eyes wide in panic.

"Suho, move!" Chen shrieks, his voice rising into the bird screech at the end of the sentence. Suho, seeing genuine fear in Chen's eyes, scrambles away just as a bolt of lightning falls and hits Chen, snatching him back up to the sky. Suho is far enough away to escape the brunt of the lightning, but a stray finger of electricity catches him and Suho falls to the ground. The last thing he hears before he loses consciousness is Chen's voice screaming his name.

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A/N: I cried while writing this chapter. Just so you know. Oh look it's Lay. I don't have much else to say, besides, thank you very much for your subscriptions and your comments. I really enjoy reading your comments and thank you to whoever upvoted Shattering Light. I'm flattered. Thanks for reading!