Today it was Zitao’s turn to feed Sehun.  He’d been shown how to operate the feeding tube, although he didn’t particularly relish the opportunity to practice. He made his way to Sehun’s room, tapping on the door briefly before realizing the futility of the action and going into the room.

Sehun’s position was unchanged; he sat slumped in the armchair with his face toward the window, but eyes unseeing.  Zitao approached him nervously.  For all appearances, Sehun was empty and unaware of his surroundings. But Zitao felt as if he was intruding on any of the other boys.  Sehun was in there somewhere.

As he worked the feeding tube and manipulated Sehun’s arms and legs to prevent stiffness, he felt a peaceful calm descend on him.  He supposed he should feel uncomfortable with this silent person; certainly some of the other boys labeled him “creepy”.  But he found it soothing to take care of another person, to touch and be near and know that there was no chance that person would startle him or try to hurt him.

He placed Sehun’s hands on the boy’s lap and straightened his shirt.  Truly it was an interesting feeling, knowing the hands would stay still and not harm.  He didn’t smile, when he took one last look before heading out.  But peace relaxed some of the strain from his face.

~

It became Zitao’s task to care for Sehun.  Of all the other boys, he was most likely to be home at all times.  He could hardly be trusted with something like the shopping.  They couldn’t have anything startling him and causing him to vanish into thin air in front of people.  Besides, as Jonghyun said, putting Zitao in charge of someone else’s welfare was a good exercise in reliability.

Zitao came to appreciate caring for Sehun, who was anything but threatening.  He didn’t communicate, of course, and Zitao did miss conversations somewhat.  But it could be fulfilling just telling Sehun anything that was on his mind, knowing the other boy couldn’t hear and judge.  Zitao didn’t have a lot to talk about.  He didn’t like to think about the lab, and he had very few memories from before that.  Sometimes he would talk his daydreams.  He would describe the scene from the window.  Eventually, going against his nature, he began to travel briefly to the surrounding countryside so he would have stories to tell Sehun.

~

It was hot and sunny.  It was always hot and sunny here in the desert.  Sehun sat in his chair and gazed calmly at the scenery, as he always did.  The little white desert flowers, the mountains in the distance.  Perhaps today he would walk to the mountains for a change of scenery. But maybe he would be more content staying where he was.  He didn’t need to decide now.

He didn’t hear a noise behind him; he just felt a presence.  He turned his head.  A boy was there, a teenager. He had a small, round face and a slightly pointed chin, and a shock of tousled, jet-black hair.  He gazed at Sehun for a moment, and then suddenly disappeared in a puff of oily black smoke. 

Sehun frowned slightly in confusion and surprise.  He didn’t understand how anyone could be in the desert with him.  It had always been him, alone, forever.  His brows drew together in thought.

 ~

 Zitao drew in his breath sharply.  For just a moment, Sehun had looked at him.  Really seen him, not the usual blank gaze.  Zitao’s heart thumped painfully, and he fought the urge to disappear.  After a minute the feeling had passed, by which time Sehun’s face had resumed its normal inward-facing, glazed look. 

Had he gotten through?  Was it maybe, just maybe, possible to rouse Sehun?  Zitao stared at him; he was again as catatonic as ever.  But there had been that brief spark.  Zitao hardly knew how to feel.  He was so used to Sehun the way he was, he was afraid of what the boy would be like if he woke up.  But as Zitao considered, watching Sehun’s face for any change of expression, his heart beat fast, thinking of the possibility of Sehun coming back to life.

~

Sehun looked at the spot where the boy had just been.  He began to turn his head back, when something else stirred and caught his eye.  A butterfly, bright orange.  He watched it flutter toward him, drawing his eyebrows together in placid bemusement.  Nothing happened in his desert.  Nothing lived there save the desert plants.  Wind never even stirred his hair.  But now…

Sehun put out his hand tentatively, and the butterfly landed gently on his finger, just for a moment.  Then it spread its wings and fluttered off.  As he watched it fly away, Sehun couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming.  A storm.  Something frightening and messy, but also beautiful.  And utterly inexorable.

~

Zitao didn’t mention what he’d seen to the other boys.  It was too fleeting to mean anything, and besides, Sehun was his responsibility. 

But he did spend more time with Sehun, trying to draw him out again.  He feared what would happen if he succeeded, but he had been so lonely for so long.  Maybe if Sehun woke up, they would be friends.

~

The next day, if days could be counted in this timeless place, Sehun saw another butterfly.  Or perhaps it was the same one.  The day after that there were two.  Then more.  Sometimes they flew away again, sometimes they stayed and settled on the flowers that were now blooming on the desert floor around Sehun’s chair.  Sometimes they settled on him. 

Sehun didn’t understand how or why they were there in his unchanging desert.  He had spent a long time thinking that, perhaps, he would get up from his chair and go visit the mountains; but he never had.  Perhaps the land had decided to engage him, instead.  

~

Butterflies crowded around Sehun, landing in his hair, on his hands, covering the ground and filling the air like autumn leaves cascading down in a gale.  Sehun watched them, outwardly calm as ever, but a tension ran through him.  Something was changing, and it wouldn’t be long before it came to its head.

Suddenly, the boy he had seen before was standing in front of him.  The butterflies leapt up, fluttering around him almost frenziedly.

This time, Sehun was not going to let the boy go.  With enormous effort, he leaned forward, using his hands to push himself up from his seat.  Feeling as if he were pushing through thick liquid, Sehun stood to his feet, shaking all over.

The butterflies vanished.  Everything went dark.

~

Sehun opened his eyes.  He was in a small but tidy and well-lit bedroom; but all he saw was the pinched-looking face of the boy from the desert, with his shock of dark, tangled hair.

Sehun blinked once, slowly.  His voice came out in a barely discernible croak.

“Zitao.”

~

Zitao leapt back in shock, feeling the tension in his muscles that meant he was about to disappear.  For a split second he was in the living room, but then he was back.  Sehun regarded Zitao calmly.

Zitao struggled to catch his breath.  “Sehun,” he managed.  “You’re awake.”

Sehun looked back at him without responding.  Slowly, his eyes moved to the window, and he blinked and squinted at the light streaming in.

Zitao followed his gaze.  Of course, he realized.  Sehun probably had no idea what had happened or where he was.  He’s been unconscious ever since we got out of the lab.

He opened his mouth to explain when he heard footsteps outside the door and Jonghyun came in.

“You OK, dude?  I saw you start to pop up in the living room and then disappear again.” 

All Zitao could do was point at Sehun, who was still looking at the window.  It took Jonghyun a second to realize.

“Sehun?” he said hesitantly.  Eventually Sehun’s head swung slowly around to face Jonghyun. 

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it.  He’s alive.”  Sehun didn’t react.  “What happened?” Jonghyun directed the question at Zitao.

“He looked at me, a few days ago.  I could tell he actually saw me.  But that was all, until a minute ago.   I’ve… been talking to him.”  Zitao looked at Sehun again.  Now that he had woken up, he was beset by new anxiety.  Sehun was a real alive person.  What would he be like?  Their old relationship, if it could be called that, was gone.

Jonghyun whistled, pushing his hand through his short hair, which flew back instantly to its original position.  “Welcome, man,” he said to Sehun.  “My name’s Jonghyun, I’m in charge around here.  This is Zitao.  He’s been taking care of you.  Well, we all have been, but he’s been doing it the most. 

“That reminds me!  We’ve been calling you Sehun.  We didn’t know what you wanted to be called so we just slapped a name on you.  But if you think of something different that you want to be known as, just let us know.”

The boys waited for Sehun to react, but it didn’t seem certain that he had even processed what he had just been told.

Finally he said, “Sehun is satisfactory.”  He looked at Jonghyun as if he was trying hard to focus.  “Before, they called me 207.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t go by that anymore.  Before is a thing we don’t talk about.  We’re people and we get names.  Zitao, a moment?”

Zitao followed Jonghyun out of the bedroom. 

“I sort of can’t believe it, to tell the truth,” Jonghyun said.  “I’d stopped thinking of him as a person we might be able to interact with someday.  Anyway, you ask me, he’s still going to need some care.  He’s been your responsibility for awhile, so I’ll put you in charge of that, all right?”  Zitao found himself nodding dumbly.

“Awesome.  I’ll go break the news to the guys, but somehow I feel Sehun’s not up to a lot of company just this second, so I’ll leave you two alone.”  He slapped Zitao on the shoulder good-naturedly and pounded down the stairs.

Zitao could feel a cold sweat coming on.  His palms felt clammy.  Still, hadn’t he been fantasizing about Sehun waking up?  Here was his chance to see what he was really like.

~

“Come on, Sehun,” Zitao coaxed, holding out a spoonful of oatmeal.  “You’ve got to eat.”

Sehun turned his face away.  It had been two days since the feeding tube was removed from his stomach, and he hadn’t eaten more than a few mouthfuls here and there.  Zitao had been faithfully visiting Sehun’s room at every meal, but was lucky if he could get anything into him beside water.

“Sehun, come on.  Aren’t you hungry?”

Sehun looked back at him.  “Yes,” he said in a tiny voice.

Zitao perked up a little.  “Then don’t you want to eat?”

“No.”

Zitao sighed.

“I feel ill,” Sehun said.

“Well, I think that’s probably because you won’t eat.”

“Eating makes me feel more ill.”

“But you need to try,” Zitao pleaded.  “Just one bite.”  He tried to put the spoon near Sehun’s mouth, but he pushed it away.

“Sehun…”  Zitao tried again.

“No!” Sehun exclaimed, and pushed the bowl onto the floor.

“Sehun!  Ugh!  You’ve got to try or you’ll never get better!”  Zitao knelt down and scooped the cooling oatmeal back into the bowl with his hands, irate and desperate.  “I’m going downstairs to clean this up, but I’ll be back later.” 

Zitao tried unsuccessfully to shrug off his anxiety as he went down the stairs.  Sehun had always been difficult, but he was Zitao’s responsibility.  He had only been awake for about a month, and if he didn’t start eating soon… Zitao could loose him.

~

Zitao tried to hide the mostly-full bowl on his way back into the kitchen, but he couldn’t make it past Jonghyun, who was sitting at the table.

“Zitao,” he said sharply.  “I thought I told you to make sure you got some of that into Sehun.”

Zitao set the bowl in the sink.  “I know, I’m sorry Jonghyun,” he apologized.  “I’m just… It’s so hard to get him to even open his mouth.”

“Just shove it in then.”

“I think if I do that he’ll just spit it out again.  He says eating makes him sick.”

Jonghyun sighed.  “It’s just one thing after another.  Look, I’ll make some really bland chicken broth and you can try again.”

~

Two hours later, Zitao was back in Sehun’s room with the chicken broth.  Sehun was still sitting in his chair, and looked at him as he came in the door.

“Hi, I brought you some broth.  Maybe you can drink it down like water.”  He settled down in front of Sehun and prepared for another battle.

“I will try,” Sehun said.

Zitao brightened.  True to his word, Sehun faithfully swallowed down the first spoonful, although it didn’t look like he enjoyed it.  He swallowed down the next and the next, and Zitao started to feel hopeful that perhaps he wasn’t fighting a loosing battle.

Sehun started to make little choking noises as they go to the bottom of the bowl.  Perhaps even this bland broth was too rich for him.  Zitao put the spoon down and beamed. 

“I won’t make you have any more.  You’ve never had so much in one sitting.”

“How much is left?”

“A spoonful or two.” 

Sehun took a deep breath and let it out.  His voice quavered a bit, but he said, “I will eat it.”

“Are you sure?”  But Zitao already had the spoon on the way to Sehun’s mouth.  With effort, Sehun swallowed down the last of the broth.

Zitao grinned as he put the spoon down in the empty bowl.  “You got through a whole bowl!  Good job!”  Sehun smiled back, and Zitao suddenly felt ridiculous, as if he was treating Sehun like a small child. 

He giggled.  Sehun gave him an inquisitive glance, and hesitantly joined in.  “Congratulations on your first full meal in freedom,” Zitao said.  Giddy with accomplishment, both the boys threw back their heads and laughed.