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Summary
There's a pamphlet somewhere with Minho's whole childhood in it. Emotional numbing. A common trauma response. They gave it to his grandmother, patted her hand, and sent the two of them home into the rain.
He hadn't noticed anything was off. Trust other children to do the noticing, that unpaid council of experts on the playground, forever asking why his face just stayed shut when everyone else's flew open at the smallest thing.
He wakes on the couch with an alien boy sat on his chest and two small fingers hooking the corners of his mouth upwards.
"What are you doing."
"Making yours go like mine."
OR: local recluse Lee Minho, afraid of nothing much except the rain, finds the thing the village swears is a monster in the woods—and lets it stay.