Jongdae lived alone. All alone in his tiny, cramped up bedroom, with only dusty old books and a diminutive window for passing time.  He had never learnt proper skills. Just enough from the lady who took care of him, supplying his daily needs. Jongdae was free to do however he wanted, provided that he never left his room, or alert anyone of his standing.

 

He knew he had a family. He could hear slight subtle voices, but still voices none the least. As a kid he was intrigued and tempted, but now he knows he can’t afford to be curious, especially when he recalls the time where he had tried to leave his room. The voices had paused for a second, he remembers, when he was caught before the soft chatter resumed.

 

---

 

Jongdae had wondered, would his life have been different if he hadn’t been a third child, a forbidden one? Would he have been able to sit down at the dining table and chat with his older siblings with unrestrained volumes?

 

Jongdae had a love of drawing. He found it as an escape from the bland vicinity surrounding him. Art gave hope to his life, splashing it with wondrous ablazing shades of every colour imaginable. It was his very own Pandora box.

 

Sometimes he would peek out his miniscule window, glad for the minute stream of sunlight in his otherwise dark and covered room. He would look upon envy on the kids he saw, playing around, laughing, speaking without restraint. He had never seen another third child, like him, but they were most probably hiding too, he reasons in his head.

 

---

 

So when Jongdae looks out his window, he’s shocked to see a feminine face looking out the window from the house opposite his. The girl notices him too and stares on before Jongdae draws his curtains back. He sinks to the ground, back against wall, heart pounding.

 

Jongdae draws up sketches of the girl he saw, peeking out visibly from the attic window. Her face etched into his brain, her carefree and untroubled smile haunting him. How could anyone be so happy he ponders, living as a illegal child, with no one knowing of your existence?

 

His days after that day are filled with her. He finishes her drawing bit by bit, slowing adding details and touches to it. Sitting down on his bed, he contemplates the pros and cons of leaving his house and exposing himself, he decides to take a risk.

 

---

 

Jongdae was scared, terrified that the police would suddenly pop up and drag him away from his safe heaven. An array of emotions fled through him as he made his way to her house, with the most prominent emotion being free. Free from his cooped up bedroom, free from his curiosities, free from everything.

 

---

 

“Name’s Baekhyun,” she says. Unafraid to reveal her identity, Jongdae marvels. “You’re another third child right? I’d seen you looking out your window. You’ve most probably been cooped up your whole life in that stuffy room, ain’t I right?” He nods. “Well, let me tell you something, young lad.”

The afternoon passes by like that. Baekhyun tells her stories of the city under a fake identity, Jongdae listens intently and in all, they bond in a way incomprehensible to other people. She tells of how the Government has everyone under their rule, while they themselves had their own hidden children too. How she one day wants to be free from all this third child business, and live as a fair citizen of the country.

 

Jongdae looks up to Baekhyun, for her courage, her ability to speak her mind with no fear, and her goals. How she aspires to be free, willing to risk it all.

 

When time came for Jongdae to rush back to his house, he promises her he’ll visit once again, he would come back eager to listen more. He had notice that Baekhyun was attention deprived, just like him, with no one to talk to. He understands. He makes into his house safely, with no one knowing of his presence other than Baekhyun.

 

---

 

Jongdae had never like the rain, never. The rain added gloominess to his solemn room even more and the pitter-patter annoyed him as it distracted him from his thoughts.

So when it rains before he prepares to leave for Baekhyun, he has a premonition of disaster awaiting. He waits for the rain to cease and when he starts out for the door - he hears screams. Distinctive sounds that he can recognize, Baekhyun's loud and snarky voice now trembling with fear. He looks out the window and sees Baekhyun being dragged out to the streets. She struggles but no avail against the two burly policeman who are twice her size. Her body, stops moving and falls limp. As if she had already accepted her fate and given up.

 

She looks up, in his direction. He locks eyes with her right before the policeman shoots her in the head. Those eyes, once shinning with determination, filled with terror haunted him to no end.

 

Traumatized, he runs up to his room and collapses on his bed. If a girl filled with courage like Baekhyun could be found, and could be fearful like that, how could he, someone timid, be able to achieve to the dreams and goals of his living as a free person? How soon would it be, before he was found by the Police and dragged out like Baekhyun? How soon?

Jongdae goes out in a rage, tearing up all his precious drawing accumulated from when he was a child, just learning to write. Outside, the rain starts again.

Jongdae's sprawled out on the floor, amidst his ruined drawings. Only the completed drawing of Baekhyun remains, albeit slightly crumpled, but still intact. He hears footsteps coming up, knocking on his door and the lady brings in his dinner.

 

---

 

Suho had no idea why he was working there, he wonders why as he walks along the corridors of the faded white halls, carrying a small platter of food in his hands. His family, relatives, schoolmates deemed him too tender-hearted to be working as a mental health social worker and he himself knows it’s true.

He knocks on Ward 801 before opening the door. The sight that greets him scares him slightly. The patient, Jongdae- he knows from the glimpse of the name on the ward’s door – sprawled on the floor, hair astray, with torn paper surrounding him. Suho speaks in a soft tone, calling Jongdae for dinner. He sits up, nodding blankly at Suho's words while staring off at the window. A tad bit fearful, Suho sets the platter on the table before closing the door behind him as he leaves. Later that night, the dark sky thundered and rained heavily.