gene(ration) loss
gene(ration) loss
jaejoong-centric, jaejoong/dbsk; pg-13
drama/angst
5,240 words
But the greatest tragedy of all, she realizes, is that Kim Jaejoong has a beautiful voice... but he was born without a license to Sing.
Originally inspired by this, the very concept of which boggles the mind. And reminds me why I think my country is ridiculous :| Obviously I’ve taken some wide liberties with science and genetics; I wanted to take more a surrealist approach to the fic… which is probably why it drifted the way that it did. It definitely went unexpected places, for reasons I’ll save ‘til the notes at the end. Enjoy :)
Creating a child is no easy task; a child is created of tens of thousands of different genes, and genes are owned by tens of thousands of different companies. Parents have to get a license of approval for each feature, every phenotype; for every person must have their genome on record- or else risk being Illegal.
So when nineteen-year-old Kim Soonhye gets two blue lines on her home-pregnancy test, the first thing she does is call someone that can get her baby a Genome-Registry. She doesn’t have any money; she ends up calling one of those discount firms you see advertised on daytime TV. Her fingers shake when she dials, tacky stick-on nails barely hitting the buttons right.
She makes an appointment, goes and answers their questions. No, she didn’t plan this. No, she can’t afford Specialization. No, there is no father. Yes, she’ll take the cheapest package available.
They assign her the new intern; he gives her a judgmental look and isn’t gentle with the needle when he takes a DNA sample of the fetus. Natural births aren’t very common- not when you can have a custom-built child: Brains for five-hundred dollars, Beauty for five-thousand. Soonhye can’t even afford the fifty for genetic disorder-screening. She tells herself her baby will be genuine, one-of-a-kind… but when she’s alone at night, no family or friends to lean on, she’s terrified.
Her son is born on February 4th. He’s only five pounds and the doctors say it’s rare to see a baby so Small… But his voice is quite strong- did you pick that out yourself?
Soonhye sniffs and doesn’t answer. The nurse brings back the baby with a blue blanket and a black pendant: his Genome Registry, a little data-drive that she slips around his neck. “All yours, baby- so don’t ever lose it,” she says, wiggling her fingers over his flushed cheeks. “That’s all you in there, Jaejoong.”
(It’s not true. But it takes years for her to realize it.)
Jaejoong grows up like any other child- Specialized or not. Soonhye works three jobs to pay all the bills, but tries to at least be home to tuck him into bed, to sing him a song. By the time he’s two-and-a-half he’s got all their lullabies memorized. Everything seems fine. Jaejoong is happy, imaginative, a good singer.
It’s when she sends him to preschool that she realizes something’s wrong. Jaejoong comes home with a letter from his teacher. The school had received his Genome-Registry, but the teacher has noticed some things are… off.
Jaejoong is Creative but according to his Registry there’s no license to say he has any right to be. His Eye-Color is all wrong - he should have brown eyes but they look closer to hazel. He’s missing a gene for Acne and Logic.
And Soonhye takes her son’s data-drive and looks at it for the first time, realizing all the mistakes that’ve been made. The teachers didn’t even notice everything. There’s hundreds of little, imperceptible mistakes scattered throughout his Registry. But the greatest tragedy of all, she realizes, is that Kim Jaejoong has a beautiful voice... but he was born without a license to Sing.
When Jaejoong walks home from kindergarten he always stops to play in the empty lot behind his building. There’s no one ever there but there’s no one in his house either because his mommy works all the time.
He searches through the trash for treasures and finds a car antenna and plays with it like a sword. The swishy-sound it makes in the air is the best- but then he sticks it in the ground and it’s a radio tower, calling out to the aliens. He sends a message to tell them that Earth is a really cool place and it’s probably lonely in outer-space, so they should come down and be friends with Jaejoong, ‘cause he’s kind of lonely too.
He thinks his mom is lonely too. She talks to people on the phone a lot but it never sounds like she’s happy with them. She’s always talking about bills, debts. She says everything gives her headaches and she drinks medicine to help, but when he scraped his knee she said he wasn’t allowed to have her type of medicine. He doesn’t think that’s very fair.
His antenna stays in the ground so he keeps sending messages to the aliens. He sends them a song. He Sings because he likes to and he’s alone -he can’t sing when people are around, because that’s bad. Don’t ever let them hear you Sing, Jaejoong. No can know, it’s like a big secret, okay? You’re a very special secret.
Jaejoong doesn’t really like secrets but that’s what his mommy said and he has to listen. So he stays quiet at school and doesn’t Sing like he wants to and-
“Hey, whatcha doing?”
Jaejoong turns around real quick and stops singing - he gasps like he can swallow his voice back up so hopefully whoever is there didn’t hear him.
“Oops, I scared you,” the whoever says. It’s another boy and he says “Sorry.”
“S’okay,” Jaejoong mumbles quietly. He doesn’t know why the boy is here because no one is ever here. “Who’re you?”
“I’m Junsu!” the boy says and he smiles and laughs like he’s said something funny. Jaejoong doesn’t think it’s funny but he kinda half-smiles anyway because when people smile it always makes you want to smile, too. “What’s your name?”
“Jaejoong,” Jaejoong says. He bites his lip and Junsu starts talking about a lot of things, like his brother who’s sick and the soccer ball he kicked all the way here from his house. He must have a good gene to Talk, Jaejoong thinks. He’s kinda nice, though, so he asks, “Do you wanna play? I made a radio-tower and I was talking to aliens.”
Junsu’s mouth goes wide. “Really? That’s so cool. Were you singing to them, too? I heard you singing, your voice is really good-”
“I don’t Sing,” Jaejoong says really quickly. “I was just talking loud. That’s all.”
“Oh,” Junsu says, but drops it. “So, what should we tell the aliens next?”
They ask the aliens lots of questions, but they don’t get many answers and they end up playing with Junsu’s soccer ball. It’s only after Junsu’s gone home later that Jaejoong goes back to his radio-tower and gives one last message- that he doesn’t think the aliens need to come to Earth after all, because Jaejoong finally has a friend. He takes the antenna down and goes home.
Jaejoong’s mom is waiting for him with a suitcase. “I’m so sorry, baby-”
And Jaejoong isn’t really sure what she means but she says she’s leaving and doesn’t know when she’ll come back. And Jaejoong cries and says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to Sing in front of Junsu, don’t go, please-”
And she sucks in a breath and says, “Oh, Jaejoong. Who did you Sing for?”
And Jaejoong sniffles through his story about Junsu who is new friend and how he didn’t really know and he wouldn’t really tell the secret and please, mommy, please don’t go-
She leaves anyway. His last memory of her is a fragment of furrowed brows and runny mascara and promise me, Jaejoong, you won’t show anyone, ever.
(It isn’t until decades later that Jaejoong understands why she left. She’d been too young, too alone, and there’d always that terrifying thought that if Jaejoong had been discovered, she’d be found Illegal, too. Jaejoong knows now that he’d never wish that upon anyone, let alone his own mother.
That doesn’t stop him from hating her. He’s young and scared, too, and he can’t help but hate her for leaving. But he hates himself just a little bit more.)
Jaejoong digs his hands further into his pockets, his shoulders hunching as his teacher yells at him -about his messy uniform and dyed hair and indifferent attitude. Jaejoong could care less, but it still sucks to be called out in front of the class. Junsu’s in the back row looking on with worried eyes, but the other boys smirk and the girls giggle behind their hands and he wants to scowl at them all but that’d probably get him in more trouble.
You’re as pathetic as your Registry, his teacher sneers. The class falls silent then, because that’s a low blow. But Jaejoong isn’t fazed. His Registry doesn’t say a damn thing about him. If only his teacher knew.
“That guy’s such a jerk, don’t listen to him,” Junsu says in quiet passing, when class ends.
Jaejoong shrugs and doesn’t respond. It’s only their third week of high school and already Jaejoong has been singled out as the outsider. He’s the kid that’s got no parents, no friends, no Talent. Junsu is the only one who hangs around with him, and that’s because they’ve known each other so long.
And even then, Junsu is having less and less time for him. His voice-gene got him put in the school choir and he spends most his time singing his heart out with all the other amazing -licensed- voices.
Jaejoong hasn’t been assigned a club; instead he goes to a remedial class for the non-Creative. He doesn’t protest- he can’t.
Jaejoong sits silent in his seat and listens to a lecture on color wheels, pigmentation, and chromatic adaptation. The teacher asks them to design their own wheel- in any shape or form or hue they want. Afterwards she gives comments on each student’s work, but on Jaejoong’s plain, dull circle, she only shakes her head. Can’t you do anything more? she asks. Just because you aren’t made for something doesn’t mean you can’t try.
Jaejoong goes back to his foster home and ignores the woman who’s supposed to be his mother. In his room, he lies on his bed and stares at the ceiling, willing himself to fall asleep even though the low curve of the sun is still miles from the horizon.
When he dreams, he dreams in color. He hears colors splash their way through his mind and sees the vibrant shades of sound. Music holds his hand and Sings with him in front of a hundred-thousand lights.
A new boy transfers into their class mid-way into the year. He’s like Jaejoong, alone amongst the clichés and clubs, but it’s Junsu that’s immediately drawn to him. His name is Yoochun and he is quiet- not by nature but by habit, he says. He lived overseas for years.
Jaejoong doesn’t like him at first. He’s got one of those fancy, custom data-drives, shaped like a music note. His family must be rich, Jaejoong thinks scornfully.
But Junsu is infatuated with Yoochun; he still Talks too much, but his words trip over themselves in front of the new boy, leaving him a fast-mumbling mess. Jaejoong teases him about it, once-forgetting himself, smirking and poking at Junsu and not even noticing the way Yoochun’s gaze lingers on him for just a little too long. Junsu notices.
Yoochun hangs out with them more often than not, so it’s impossible not to get used to his presence. He opens up to Junsu -and Jaejoong, even though Jaejoong didn’t ask for it.
“I got sorted into choir,” Yoochun shares, smiling.
“Great!” Junsu crows, right before Yoochun turns to Jaejoong and asks, “Are you in the choir, too?”
Jaejoong swallows, his throat tight around his answer. “No.”
Yoochun looks disappointed and Jaejoong looks away. His hand drifts up, fingering the data-drive around his neck even as he tells himself he doesn’t care. Junsu is looking between them, eyes narrowed in confusion. “Jaejoong doesn’t Sing,” he says, and it sounds almost like an accusation.
Jaejoong glares and he isn’t sure why. “I like music.”
Yoochun gives him a lop-sided smile. “That’s a start, even if your voice isn’t…” and he shrugs, like it’s no big deal.
And Jaejoong grits his teeth and stays silent. He stays silent even when Junsu leaves to talk to his brother and he and Yoochun are left in awkward silence. He’s sick of it being no big deal, he thinks. He’s sick of not being himself. He’s sick of these damn laws.
“I can Sing,” Jaejoong says suddenly.
Yoochun stares at Jaejoong in surprise, and so Jaejoong grabs his hand and tugs him into the first empty classroom he finds. He shuts the door tight and sighs. Yoochun shifts awkwardly. “You’ll Sing for me?”
Jaejoong looks him dead in the eye. “Give me a song.”
Yoochun names some popular ballad, blushing when he says it. Jaejoong knows it; he clears his throat and stalls because this is the first time he’s allowed himself to Sing in front of anyone in forever. Yet, the thought of doing something so Illegal sends a little thrill through him, his heart beating double-time from excitement more than fear. He’s really going to do this.
He takes a deep breath; he Sings. Yoochun’s eyes widen, Jaejoong’s eye close. He’s breathing in hope, he’s exhaling freedom.
(The months pass too fast. He brings Yoochun to his abandoned lot and sings duets with him under the stars. Yoochun kisses him on a rainy day. They write a song together. Junsu catches them in the music room at school and Jaejoong is never quite sure who betrayed who).
They come for him at school. One minute he’s listening to the history of some age-old war, and the next moment students are gasping and police are filing in to his classroom. He knows what’s going on and for a second, is frozen in his seat. The policemen tell the students to stay calm- everything is alright, it’s just a formality, but could Kim Jaejoong please come with us-
But Kim Jaejoong knows it’s not alright -everyone knows what it means when they come for you- and he panics. He jumps out of his seat. He doesn’t even know where he can go because the police are blocking the only door. He whirls around and sees Yoochun’s scared expression, Junsu’s uneasy eyes - and he knows.
“How-” he starts, but he doesn’t get a chance to finish. They’ve already grabbed him, got him, told him not to resist. The classroom blurs as he’s spun around, Junsu’s angry-guilty face disappearing from sight as he’s pulled away.
Jaejoong fights them. He fights them with fists and feet and fingernails but no matter how much he struggles they pull him further, towards the door. In the background, people scream and he can’t believe this is happening, how he could have let this happen-
Something hits the back of his head. A burst of color in front of his eyes, and the world goes dark for a very long time.
Jaejoong wakes in a dark cell. He’s naked, thrown between a lumpy mattress and scratchy blanket. His head throbs; he can feel the tender, bruised spots on his body.
So this is how it ends, he thinks. This is what it is to be Illegal. He curls into himself and wants to cry- when he starts to, however, no sound escapes his mouth. His pulse jumps and he reaches a hand up to his throat, feeling for the necklace he’s worn all his life. It’s gone, and it’s place a tight metal band circling his neck tight.
He tries to speak - full words, but there’s nothing. There’s no sound. It hurts just trying, as if he’s straining against vocal cords that have been wired shut.
He feels like he’s suffocating. He’s spent so long being afraid of being Illegal, he hasn’t ever thought what it would meant. They’ve taken his voice from him. They might as well have taken everything.
He wakes up when the alarm rings. It’s loud and though he doesn’t know where it comes from, it fills all the air of the cell with its reverberations. He jerks awake and when the sun hits him the face he curses - except he doesn’t, his mouth just moves in the shape of the words and his throat aches like he’s swallowed sand.
He hears a noise above him and legs swing down in front of him -he realizes he’s just on the bottom bed of a bunk. The legs fall down and a body follows it- a young man jumps to the ground, and when he sees Jaejoong jumps again.
“Shit, I didn’t see you. When’d they bring you in?”
Jaejoong opens his mouth, only to wince. His hand goes up to his throat.
The man’s eyes darken. “Oh. Sorry,” he says, flippant but honest. He grabs a set of clothes from a little locker and tosses them at Jaejoong. “I guess it’s safe to say that’s what you’re in for?”
Jaejoong nods, chin trembling. His whole body is shaking, really, and it makes it infinitely harder to get dressed.
The man looks uncomfortable. “You aren’t going to freak out on me, are you?”
When he nods, the young man sighs. “Shit, man.” He runs a hand through his long hair, then crouches down and throws the same hand out to Jaejoong, a bitter smile on his face. “The name’s Changmin. Welcome to obscurity.”
The guards collect them from their rooms at sunrise, stick them in a line with hundreds of other Illegals, and send them off. They work hard labor in the middle of nowhere, where no one can possible see them. We’re Illegal, Changmin explains under his breath- according to the government, we’re contraband. We’re technically not allowed to exist.
Jaejoong wants to ask why Changmin’s Illegal. He sees men and women like him- bands around their bodies, shackles on their feet, heads shaved of hair, scars where bits and pieces of them have been removed. But Changmin doesn’t have a mark on him- and Jaejoong can’t ask why.
Jaejoong’s ready to faint after the first few hours of work. Changmin has to help him up when he falls. They get a lunch of rice and a dinner of rice. At sunset they’re herded back into their rooms, and Jaejoong collapses into his bed, staring mindlessly at the wall.
Is it like this every day, he wants to ask.
Changmin answers anyway. He leans down over Jaejoong’s bunk, looking at him with sad eyes. “Get some sleep… Sometimes it’s worse.”
Jaejoong has a hard time sleeping, though. It takes him a while to realize why - their room has no windows. He can’t see the night sky; he can’t pretend like there’s something else out there. He can’t pretend he’s anywhere else but here.
Jaejoong spends the next three years working, sleeping, working, and re-living the moments in his life when he could have said something but didn’t. He’d been such a fool.
Changmin is his anchor; the other boy isn’t all that much of a talker, but he’s Smart and can tell when Jaejoong needs to communicate, no matter how one-sided it is. Sometimes at night he’ll climb down into Jaejoong’s bunk and talk about anything - the stuff he studied in school, the weird dreams he has, the finger he broke when he was six.
“It’s nice to have someone listen,” Changmin says one night. “I’ve been here since I was elementary school. It gets lonely real fast.”
Jaejoong asks with his eyes, a hand on Changmin’s arms. Changmin only shakes his head, so Jaejoong shifts closer. Changmin slips an arm around his waist and even though Jaejoong can’t Sing, he pretends to, lips mouthing words into Changmin’s skin.
But still one night when Changmin thinks Jaejoong is asleep, he whispers. “But sometimes I really wish you could say something back.”
Once a week the inmates are allowed to go out onto the jail-yard, where they smoke and kick around a ball and mock-fight. It’s not fun but it’s something to do, better than falling into idleness.
On the jail-yard is where Jaejoong spots the new kid. He’s around the same age as Jaejoong, but he’s still a kid -still raw and shivering, like Jaejoong once had been.
However the kid lifts his chin high when Jaejoong gives him a cold once-over, his pride all too evident. Jaejoong shares a look with Changmin, and they make their way over.
Yunho, it turns out, is the epitome of perfection. Specialized with no expense spared- he’s Kind and Masculine and Clever; his face is as Small as his legs are Tall. He’s only got a single flaw- a damned Mole on his cheek, but it was enough. He’s been in the prison for a week- the incision where the mole once-was has just begun to heal.
“They took me from my house,” he says, his teeth chattering around the words. It’s winter and the flimsy jackets they have aren’t much protection. “I was asleep. I didn’t get to say goodbye to anyone.”
Changmin claps him on the back and gives him a few short words. Yunho looks expectantly at Jaejoong, but he can only stare. Changmin has to explain, and Yunho gives him a look of pity that Jaejoong despises.
Changmin chuckles darkly. “Don’t get on his bad side so quickly.”
“S-Sorry,” Yunho gulps.
“Just don’t do it again,” Changmin sighs. “You’ll learn pretty quickly how it goes around here.”
The kid looks down at his feet. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Yunho is Clever. It means he’s not exactly Smart like Changmin, who can recite verbatim the pages of books he read in third-grade, but instead is the type to think quick on his feet, to notice everything, to know how to work people. His genes for Optimism and Ambition are so big, Jaejoong swears you could see them with the naked eye.
Jaejoong is jealous of Yunho- but not anymore than he is of anyone else.
And, to his credit, Yunho has plans.
“I’m getting us out,” he says, whispered words quiet enough to be almost completely stolen by the wind. Jaejoong reads his lips. “We can do it. My family can-”
“Buy us out? Not fucking likely.” Changmin snorts.
“No, no. They’re not that rich. But, if we can get out on our own…”
Jaejoong’s eyes widen. Escape…? That isn’t possible. Illegals are brought to stay; that’s just how it went. He’s never heard of an escape- or even of an attempt.
Changmin’s eyes darken. “It won’t work.”
“How do you know?” Yunho asks.
Changmin turns his head, looking out over the fields of dead-grass wilderness. “I’m not stupid enough to risk it.”
(When Jaejoong looks back, and thinks of any moment he could have had his voice, he’d of wished for it to be that moment. He’d turn Changmin’s head back around and say Please, come with us. I know you don’t remember how to hope, but it’ll be worth it. Please, I know we’ve forgotten, but all we have to do is just fucking try.)
Yunho comes for them in the dead of night. He knocks three times on their door before picking the lock. He throws one set of civilians’ clothes to Jaejoong, one set to Changmin.
Jaejoong scrambles into his outfit, and it isn’t until he’s dressed that he realizes Changmin is just standing there, holding the clothes in a tight fist.
“C’mon, c’mon,” Yunho says. “We only have fifteen minutes before the guards-”
“I’m not coming,” Changmin says, his tone shaky but resolute.
Jaejoong looks at him frantically, but the younger man avoids his eyes. Yunho pleads and begs, but Changmin won’t change his mind. “Fine, I’m sorry. But we can’t just wait around-”
“Just go. Go,” Changmin repeats, only then looking at Jaejoong. Jaejoong reaches out to Changmin but the younger man steps back, his face smoothed over and Yunho is grabbing his hand, tugging him towards the door.
Jaejoong thinks of classrooms and panic and colors, as Changmin steps back again, into the shadows of their cell. He almost resists -he can’t just leave him- but it’s just a second of hesitation, not strong enough to stop Yunho from pulling him along.
They have to hide in a closet until the next shift-change and while they hide Yunho works with the band around Jaejoong’s neck. It’s a computerized thing and delicate work- it takes hours.
But the moment he feels the sssft-clik of its release, air rushes into his lungs like it hasn’t in three and a half years. He takes a deep breath and his chest expands and it’s the most beautiful feeling he’s ever felt. His mouth opens in a smile and he says-
Nothing. Yunho covers a hand with his mouth, a low “ssssssh” leaving his lips. Jaejoong’s eyes go wide and watery. The suffocating feeling’s gone but he just needs to say something, anything.
“Later,” Yunho breathes, his hand tightening and Jaejoong nods in miserable understanding.
They slip out at a side-door at dawn. The cam-sensor that monitors the area is switching tapes and the guards aren’t in the watchtowers yet. They have three minutes.
They duck and run along the walls, around the chain-link fence that runs around the jail-yard, sliding through the shadows and behind high weeds. They get halfway across when all of a sudden the alarm blares from inside the building, loud and insistent as always.
They hear shouts and Jaejoong peeks his head up, just for a second, looking into the yard. He expects guards to be running towards them but instead- it’s Changmin. Yunho’s running ahead but Jaejoong’s frozen, waiting.
Changmin runs straight at him, only stopping when he hits the fence. “You left the door unlocked behind you,” he explains, breathing hard. “One of the security guards noticed Yunho was gone- I heard them talking in the hall, I had to find you-”
And Jaejoong just stares, not knowing what to do. His dry hands grip the old fence and it hurts. He doesn’t even realize he can say anything until Changmin’s mouth drops and “Your voice-”
“Come,” Jaejoong manages out. It’s hoarse and barely even sounds like him, but it’s his voice and the thought sends his head spinning. “Please.”
Changmin’s eyes are too wide, too desperate, too old. His hands shake on the fence. “I can’t. Go, Jaejoong. I’ll distract them.”
“No-” He leans his body against Changmin’s, pretending like there isn’t cold metal between them.
Behind them Jaejoong hears dogs barking, men running, the sounds of the spotlights humming to life. He hears the search beginning.
Yunho’s probably already long gone- Jaejoong hopes he makes it.
“Jaejoong,” Changmin growls, but Jaejoong shakes his head.
“Why?” he croaks. “Illegal, why?”
Changmin sighs in fond anxiety. “I Dream,” he says quickly. “I Dream and that’s all.”
Jaejoong swallows roughly. “Sing,” he manages to say-and he tries to Sing, he really does, but it comes out more of hum and it’s not enough. When he looks up Changmin’s smiling sadly and then his eyes flick up, to something behind Jaejoong.
“Damnit, Jaejoong, c’mon!”
It’s all the warning he gets, and then Yunho is back, turning him around, and dragging him away. Jaejoong trips and staggers; he twists his head sees Changmin, fingers interlaced in the fence, watching them go- and then Jaejoong trips again and has to look down to gain his footing.
Yunho pulls him a hundred yards towards a line of trees. They’ve just made it when they hear the gunshots.
“N-o,” he gasps, his heart stuttering. He jerks his hand free, scrambles to get back, but Yunho’s right there, grabbing him, keeping him running.
In the distance there are more gunshots. More dogs barking, more alarms.
Jaejoong runs and stumbles and falters and branches hit his face, breaking skin. He’s breaking in more ways than one.
They run until they find and old, abandoned train-yard. They sleep in the shell of a rusty car, jumping at every creak and groan. They go two days without food or water, not daring to move. Jaejoong’s lips are cracked and bleeding when they finally venture out again.
They go for days, never stopping for longer than enough time to fall into a deep sleep. They don’t know where they are, but every once in a while they pass a little town. They go in at night, steal food from trashcans and sleep in overgrown pastures.
Jaejoong doesn’t Talk the entire time. Yunho whispers to him sometimes, but Jaejoong just can’t bring himself to say anything back. He’s long out of the habit- and, he thinks, his voice is worth nothing, if this is the price he had to pay for it.
A month later, they stop running. They’ve made it a city - a real city, far enough to be above immediate suspicion, big enough to quickly get lost in. Yunho gets them under-the-table jobs, no Registry required. They rent an apartment in a rundown old building and take turns going outside- and for necessity only. They’re too nervous to act normal, or even smile. They don’t Talk unless needed; they don’t speak about what happened.
Three months later, Jaejoong’s wakes up when Yunho rolls on top of him. He groans; the mattress isn’t comfortable, especially with the extra weight, but when opens his eyes Yunho is beaming down at him.
“Jaejoong,” he says excitedly, as if he’s only just realized it. “Jaejoong, we’re free.”
And Jaejoong doesn’t know why this day, why this moment - but it’s like it just hits him, too. Life is still hell and they don’t have any money and the apartment is shit but they aren’t owned by anyone- not anymore.
He smiles into their kiss. He cries into it, too.
And later when they lay together, the sun filters through the dust like gold and the shadows of clouds turn the light of the room from soft-grey to blue-white. Jaejoong runs his hands through Yunho’s hair and Sings- for real, this time. Yunho looks up at him, chin braced on Jaejoong’s chest. “I think I could listen to that forever,” he says softly.
Jaejoong traces the scar above Yunho’s lip. “Don’t lie. We’re in the real world, now- legi-ti-mate,” he adds, drawing out each syllable.
“And what do legitimate people do?”
Jaejoong smiles humorlessly. His finger goes up along Yunho’s cheek, tapping his eyelids closed. “They do what they’re made to do.”
(Jaejoong’s whole life is spent looking over his shoulder. He and Yunho stay on the move, never lingering in one place for too long until enough time has passed that they can safely contact Yunho’s family. His father sends them money, gets them fake Registries and Jaejoong doesn’t dare ask how.
Yunho works whatever jobs come his way. Their time in jail has left him adrift, his Perfection not able to compensate for a sense of lost identity. Jaejoong can only encourage him, as well as he can when he feels much the same. For his part he spends his time wandering the city. When the feeling strikes him he performs on street corners, in subway corridors; and it’s only in those echoing moments that Jaejoong can Sing and not be afraid.
Because in those moments, he’s letting his voice out like a lighthouse beacon- then, he’s looking over his shoulder in the hopes that everyone he left and lost might someday be there. He Sings them messages, an audiovisual broadcast, reminding them that he’s still here, that they can still find him.
And until they come, Jaejoong will wait on the shore and watch the lights on the dark water, the distant wavering stars, secretly imaging them all to be maps drawn by aliens, guiding them home).
started writing: 3/21/10
finished writing: 4/17/10
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I started writing this about a month ago, when I first heard a news report about gene patents. However, as of March 30, 2010, a NY District Court rejected the patent on the breast cancer gene, which sets a precedent that could invalidate all gene patents. On that same day my aunt passed away after fighting breast cancer for several years. This is for her, and all those who continue to fight for their lives and their freedom. You are all heroes and aliens; you are a million miles beyond anything I can ever hope to be ♥
jaejoong-centric, jaejoong/dbsk; pg-13
drama/angst
5,240 words
But the greatest tragedy of all, she realizes, is that Kim Jaejoong has a beautiful voice... but he was born without a license to Sing.
Originally inspired by this, the very concept of which boggles the mind. And reminds me why I think my country is ridiculous :| Obviously I’ve taken some wide liberties with science and genetics; I wanted to take more a surrealist approach to the fic… which is probably why it drifted the way that it did. It definitely went unexpected places, for reasons I’ll save ‘til the notes at the end. Enjoy :)
Creating a child is no easy task; a child is created of tens of thousands of different genes, and genes are owned by tens of thousands of different companies. Parents have to get a license of approval for each feature, every phenotype; for every person must have their genome on record- or else risk being Illegal.
So when nineteen-year-old Kim Soonhye gets two blue lines on her home-pregnancy test, the first thing she does is call someone that can get her baby a Genome-Registry. She doesn’t have any money; she ends up calling one of those discount firms you see advertised on daytime TV. Her fingers shake when she dials, tacky stick-on nails barely hitting the buttons right.
She makes an appointment, goes and answers their questions. No, she didn’t plan this. No, she can’t afford Specialization. No, there is no father. Yes, she’ll take the cheapest package available.
They assign her the new intern; he gives her a judgmental look and isn’t gentle with the needle when he takes a DNA sample of the fetus. Natural births aren’t very common- not when you can have a custom-built child: Brains for five-hundred dollars, Beauty for five-thousand. Soonhye can’t even afford the fifty for genetic disorder-screening. She tells herself her baby will be genuine, one-of-a-kind… but when she’s alone at night, no family or friends to lean on, she’s terrified.
Her son is born on February 4th. He’s only five pounds and the doctors say it’s rare to see a baby so Small… But his voice is quite strong- did you pick that out yourself?
Soonhye sniffs and doesn’t answer. The nurse brings back the baby with a blue blanket and a black pendant: his Genome Registry, a little data-drive that she slips around his neck. “All yours, baby- so don’t ever lose it,” she says, wiggling her fingers over his flushed cheeks. “That’s all you in there, Jaejoong.”
(It’s not true. But it takes years for her to realize it.)
Jaejoong grows up like any other child- Specialized or not. Soonhye works three jobs to pay all the bills, but tries to at least be home to tuck him into bed, to sing him a song. By the time he’s two-and-a-half he’s got all their lullabies memorized. Everything seems fine. Jaejoong is happy, imaginative, a good singer.
It’s when she sends him to preschool that she realizes something’s wrong. Jaejoong comes home with a letter from his teacher. The school had received his Genome-Registry, but the teacher has noticed some things are… off.
Jaejoong is Creative but according to his Registry there’s no license to say he has any right to be. His Eye-Color is all wrong - he should have brown eyes but they look closer to hazel. He’s missing a gene for Acne and Logic.
And Soonhye takes her son’s data-drive and looks at it for the first time, realizing all the mistakes that’ve been made. The teachers didn’t even notice everything. There’s hundreds of little, imperceptible mistakes scattered throughout his Registry. But the greatest tragedy of all, she realizes, is that Kim Jaejoong has a beautiful voice... but he was born without a license to Sing.
When Jaejoong walks home from kindergarten he always stops to play in the empty lot behind his building. There’s no one ever there but there’s no one in his house either because his mommy works all the time.
He searches through the trash for treasures and finds a car antenna and plays with it like a sword. The swishy-sound it makes in the air is the best- but then he sticks it in the ground and it’s a radio tower, calling out to the aliens. He sends a message to tell them that Earth is a really cool place and it’s probably lonely in outer-space, so they should come down and be friends with Jaejoong, ‘cause he’s kind of lonely too.
He thinks his mom is lonely too. She talks to people on the phone a lot but it never sounds like she’s happy with them. She’s always talking about bills, debts. She says everything gives her headaches and she drinks medicine to help, but when he scraped his knee she said he wasn’t allowed to have her type of medicine. He doesn’t think that’s very fair.
His antenna stays in the ground so he keeps sending messages to the aliens. He sends them a song. He Sings because he likes to and he’s alone -he can’t sing when people are around, because that’s bad. Don’t ever let them hear you Sing, Jaejoong. No can know, it’s like a big secret, okay? You’re a very special secret.
Jaejoong doesn’t really like secrets but that’s what his mommy said and he has to listen. So he stays quiet at school and doesn’t Sing like he wants to and-
“Hey, whatcha doing?”
Jaejoong turns around real quick and stops singing - he gasps like he can swallow his voice back up so hopefully whoever is there didn’t hear him.
“Oops, I scared you,” the whoever says. It’s another boy and he says “Sorry.”
“S’okay,” Jaejoong mumbles quietly. He doesn’t know why the boy is here because no one is ever here. “Who’re you?”
“I’m Junsu!” the boy says and he smiles and laughs like he’s said something funny. Jaejoong doesn’t think it’s funny but he kinda half-smiles anyway because when people smile it always makes you want to smile, too. “What’s your name?”
“Jaejoong,” Jaejoong says. He bites his lip and Junsu starts talking about a lot of things, like his brother who’s sick and the soccer ball he kicked all the way here from his house. He must have a good gene to Talk, Jaejoong thinks. He’s kinda nice, though, so he asks, “Do you wanna play? I made a radio-tower and I was talking to aliens.”
Junsu’s mouth goes wide. “Really? That’s so cool. Were you singing to them, too? I heard you singing, your voice is really good-”
“I don’t Sing,” Jaejoong says really quickly. “I was just talking loud. That’s all.”
“Oh,” Junsu says, but drops it. “So, what should we tell the aliens next?”
They ask the aliens lots of questions, but they don’t get many answers and they end up playing with Junsu’s soccer ball. It’s only after Junsu’s gone home later that Jaejoong goes back to his radio-tower and gives one last message- that he doesn’t think the aliens need to come to Earth after all, because Jaejoong finally has a friend. He takes the antenna down and goes home.
Jaejoong’s mom is waiting for him with a suitcase. “I’m so sorry, baby-”
And Jaejoong isn’t really sure what she means but she says she’s leaving and doesn’t know when she’ll come back. And Jaejoong cries and says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to Sing in front of Junsu, don’t go, please-”
And she sucks in a breath and says, “Oh, Jaejoong. Who did you Sing for?”
And Jaejoong sniffles through his story about Junsu who is new friend and how he didn’t really know and he wouldn’t really tell the secret and please, mommy, please don’t go-
She leaves anyway. His last memory of her is a fragment of furrowed brows and runny mascara and promise me, Jaejoong, you won’t show anyone, ever.
(It isn’t until decades later that Jaejoong understands why she left. She’d been too young, too alone, and there’d always that terrifying thought that if Jaejoong had been discovered, she’d be found Illegal, too. Jaejoong knows now that he’d never wish that upon anyone, let alone his own mother.
That doesn’t stop him from hating her. He’s young and scared, too, and he can’t help but hate her for leaving. But he hates himself just a little bit more.)
Jaejoong digs his hands further into his pockets, his shoulders hunching as his teacher yells at him -about his messy uniform and dyed hair and indifferent attitude. Jaejoong could care less, but it still sucks to be called out in front of the class. Junsu’s in the back row looking on with worried eyes, but the other boys smirk and the girls giggle behind their hands and he wants to scowl at them all but that’d probably get him in more trouble.
You’re as pathetic as your Registry, his teacher sneers. The class falls silent then, because that’s a low blow. But Jaejoong isn’t fazed. His Registry doesn’t say a damn thing about him. If only his teacher knew.
“That guy’s such a jerk, don’t listen to him,” Junsu says in quiet passing, when class ends.
Jaejoong shrugs and doesn’t respond. It’s only their third week of high school and already Jaejoong has been singled out as the outsider. He’s the kid that’s got no parents, no friends, no Talent. Junsu is the only one who hangs around with him, and that’s because they’ve known each other so long.
And even then, Junsu is having less and less time for him. His voice-gene got him put in the school choir and he spends most his time singing his heart out with all the other amazing -licensed- voices.
Jaejoong hasn’t been assigned a club; instead he goes to a remedial class for the non-Creative. He doesn’t protest- he can’t.
Jaejoong sits silent in his seat and listens to a lecture on color wheels, pigmentation, and chromatic adaptation. The teacher asks them to design their own wheel- in any shape or form or hue they want. Afterwards she gives comments on each student’s work, but on Jaejoong’s plain, dull circle, she only shakes her head. Can’t you do anything more? she asks. Just because you aren’t made for something doesn’t mean you can’t try.
Jaejoong goes back to his foster home and ignores the woman who’s supposed to be his mother. In his room, he lies on his bed and stares at the ceiling, willing himself to fall asleep even though the low curve of the sun is still miles from the horizon.
When he dreams, he dreams in color. He hears colors splash their way through his mind and sees the vibrant shades of sound. Music holds his hand and Sings with him in front of a hundred-thousand lights.
A new boy transfers into their class mid-way into the year. He’s like Jaejoong, alone amongst the clichés and clubs, but it’s Junsu that’s immediately drawn to him. His name is Yoochun and he is quiet- not by nature but by habit, he says. He lived overseas for years.
Jaejoong doesn’t like him at first. He’s got one of those fancy, custom data-drives, shaped like a music note. His family must be rich, Jaejoong thinks scornfully.
But Junsu is infatuated with Yoochun; he still Talks too much, but his words trip over themselves in front of the new boy, leaving him a fast-mumbling mess. Jaejoong teases him about it, once-forgetting himself, smirking and poking at Junsu and not even noticing the way Yoochun’s gaze lingers on him for just a little too long. Junsu notices.
Yoochun hangs out with them more often than not, so it’s impossible not to get used to his presence. He opens up to Junsu -and Jaejoong, even though Jaejoong didn’t ask for it.
“I got sorted into choir,” Yoochun shares, smiling.
“Great!” Junsu crows, right before Yoochun turns to Jaejoong and asks, “Are you in the choir, too?”
Jaejoong swallows, his throat tight around his answer. “No.”
Yoochun looks disappointed and Jaejoong looks away. His hand drifts up, fingering the data-drive around his neck even as he tells himself he doesn’t care. Junsu is looking between them, eyes narrowed in confusion. “Jaejoong doesn’t Sing,” he says, and it sounds almost like an accusation.
Jaejoong glares and he isn’t sure why. “I like music.”
Yoochun gives him a lop-sided smile. “That’s a start, even if your voice isn’t…” and he shrugs, like it’s no big deal.
And Jaejoong grits his teeth and stays silent. He stays silent even when Junsu leaves to talk to his brother and he and Yoochun are left in awkward silence. He’s sick of it being no big deal, he thinks. He’s sick of not being himself. He’s sick of these damn laws.
“I can Sing,” Jaejoong says suddenly.
Yoochun stares at Jaejoong in surprise, and so Jaejoong grabs his hand and tugs him into the first empty classroom he finds. He shuts the door tight and sighs. Yoochun shifts awkwardly. “You’ll Sing for me?”
Jaejoong looks him dead in the eye. “Give me a song.”
Yoochun names some popular ballad, blushing when he says it. Jaejoong knows it; he clears his throat and stalls because this is the first time he’s allowed himself to Sing in front of anyone in forever. Yet, the thought of doing something so Illegal sends a little thrill through him, his heart beating double-time from excitement more than fear. He’s really going to do this.
He takes a deep breath; he Sings. Yoochun’s eyes widen, Jaejoong’s eye close. He’s breathing in hope, he’s exhaling freedom.
(The months pass too fast. He brings Yoochun to his abandoned lot and sings duets with him under the stars. Yoochun kisses him on a rainy day. They write a song together. Junsu catches them in the music room at school and Jaejoong is never quite sure who betrayed who).
They come for him at school. One minute he’s listening to the history of some age-old war, and the next moment students are gasping and police are filing in to his classroom. He knows what’s going on and for a second, is frozen in his seat. The policemen tell the students to stay calm- everything is alright, it’s just a formality, but could Kim Jaejoong please come with us-
But Kim Jaejoong knows it’s not alright -everyone knows what it means when they come for you- and he panics. He jumps out of his seat. He doesn’t even know where he can go because the police are blocking the only door. He whirls around and sees Yoochun’s scared expression, Junsu’s uneasy eyes - and he knows.
“How-” he starts, but he doesn’t get a chance to finish. They’ve already grabbed him, got him, told him not to resist. The classroom blurs as he’s spun around, Junsu’s angry-guilty face disappearing from sight as he’s pulled away.
Jaejoong fights them. He fights them with fists and feet and fingernails but no matter how much he struggles they pull him further, towards the door. In the background, people scream and he can’t believe this is happening, how he could have let this happen-
Something hits the back of his head. A burst of color in front of his eyes, and the world goes dark for a very long time.
Jaejoong wakes in a dark cell. He’s naked, thrown between a lumpy mattress and scratchy blanket. His head throbs; he can feel the tender, bruised spots on his body.
So this is how it ends, he thinks. This is what it is to be Illegal. He curls into himself and wants to cry- when he starts to, however, no sound escapes his mouth. His pulse jumps and he reaches a hand up to his throat, feeling for the necklace he’s worn all his life. It’s gone, and it’s place a tight metal band circling his neck tight.
He tries to speak - full words, but there’s nothing. There’s no sound. It hurts just trying, as if he’s straining against vocal cords that have been wired shut.
He feels like he’s suffocating. He’s spent so long being afraid of being Illegal, he hasn’t ever thought what it would meant. They’ve taken his voice from him. They might as well have taken everything.
He wakes up when the alarm rings. It’s loud and though he doesn’t know where it comes from, it fills all the air of the cell with its reverberations. He jerks awake and when the sun hits him the face he curses - except he doesn’t, his mouth just moves in the shape of the words and his throat aches like he’s swallowed sand.
He hears a noise above him and legs swing down in front of him -he realizes he’s just on the bottom bed of a bunk. The legs fall down and a body follows it- a young man jumps to the ground, and when he sees Jaejoong jumps again.
“Shit, I didn’t see you. When’d they bring you in?”
Jaejoong opens his mouth, only to wince. His hand goes up to his throat.
The man’s eyes darken. “Oh. Sorry,” he says, flippant but honest. He grabs a set of clothes from a little locker and tosses them at Jaejoong. “I guess it’s safe to say that’s what you’re in for?”
Jaejoong nods, chin trembling. His whole body is shaking, really, and it makes it infinitely harder to get dressed.
The man looks uncomfortable. “You aren’t going to freak out on me, are you?”
When he nods, the young man sighs. “Shit, man.” He runs a hand through his long hair, then crouches down and throws the same hand out to Jaejoong, a bitter smile on his face. “The name’s Changmin. Welcome to obscurity.”
The guards collect them from their rooms at sunrise, stick them in a line with hundreds of other Illegals, and send them off. They work hard labor in the middle of nowhere, where no one can possible see them. We’re Illegal, Changmin explains under his breath- according to the government, we’re contraband. We’re technically not allowed to exist.
Jaejoong wants to ask why Changmin’s Illegal. He sees men and women like him- bands around their bodies, shackles on their feet, heads shaved of hair, scars where bits and pieces of them have been removed. But Changmin doesn’t have a mark on him- and Jaejoong can’t ask why.
Jaejoong’s ready to faint after the first few hours of work. Changmin has to help him up when he falls. They get a lunch of rice and a dinner of rice. At sunset they’re herded back into their rooms, and Jaejoong collapses into his bed, staring mindlessly at the wall.
Is it like this every day, he wants to ask.
Changmin answers anyway. He leans down over Jaejoong’s bunk, looking at him with sad eyes. “Get some sleep… Sometimes it’s worse.”
Jaejoong has a hard time sleeping, though. It takes him a while to realize why - their room has no windows. He can’t see the night sky; he can’t pretend like there’s something else out there. He can’t pretend he’s anywhere else but here.
Jaejoong spends the next three years working, sleeping, working, and re-living the moments in his life when he could have said something but didn’t. He’d been such a fool.
Changmin is his anchor; the other boy isn’t all that much of a talker, but he’s Smart and can tell when Jaejoong needs to communicate, no matter how one-sided it is. Sometimes at night he’ll climb down into Jaejoong’s bunk and talk about anything - the stuff he studied in school, the weird dreams he has, the finger he broke when he was six.
“It’s nice to have someone listen,” Changmin says one night. “I’ve been here since I was elementary school. It gets lonely real fast.”
Jaejoong asks with his eyes, a hand on Changmin’s arms. Changmin only shakes his head, so Jaejoong shifts closer. Changmin slips an arm around his waist and even though Jaejoong can’t Sing, he pretends to, lips mouthing words into Changmin’s skin.
But still one night when Changmin thinks Jaejoong is asleep, he whispers. “But sometimes I really wish you could say something back.”
Once a week the inmates are allowed to go out onto the jail-yard, where they smoke and kick around a ball and mock-fight. It’s not fun but it’s something to do, better than falling into idleness.
On the jail-yard is where Jaejoong spots the new kid. He’s around the same age as Jaejoong, but he’s still a kid -still raw and shivering, like Jaejoong once had been.
However the kid lifts his chin high when Jaejoong gives him a cold once-over, his pride all too evident. Jaejoong shares a look with Changmin, and they make their way over.
Yunho, it turns out, is the epitome of perfection. Specialized with no expense spared- he’s Kind and Masculine and Clever; his face is as Small as his legs are Tall. He’s only got a single flaw- a damned Mole on his cheek, but it was enough. He’s been in the prison for a week- the incision where the mole once-was has just begun to heal.
“They took me from my house,” he says, his teeth chattering around the words. It’s winter and the flimsy jackets they have aren’t much protection. “I was asleep. I didn’t get to say goodbye to anyone.”
Changmin claps him on the back and gives him a few short words. Yunho looks expectantly at Jaejoong, but he can only stare. Changmin has to explain, and Yunho gives him a look of pity that Jaejoong despises.
Changmin chuckles darkly. “Don’t get on his bad side so quickly.”
“S-Sorry,” Yunho gulps.
“Just don’t do it again,” Changmin sighs. “You’ll learn pretty quickly how it goes around here.”
The kid looks down at his feet. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Yunho is Clever. It means he’s not exactly Smart like Changmin, who can recite verbatim the pages of books he read in third-grade, but instead is the type to think quick on his feet, to notice everything, to know how to work people. His genes for Optimism and Ambition are so big, Jaejoong swears you could see them with the naked eye.
Jaejoong is jealous of Yunho- but not anymore than he is of anyone else.
And, to his credit, Yunho has plans.
“I’m getting us out,” he says, whispered words quiet enough to be almost completely stolen by the wind. Jaejoong reads his lips. “We can do it. My family can-”
“Buy us out? Not fucking likely.” Changmin snorts.
“No, no. They’re not that rich. But, if we can get out on our own…”
Jaejoong’s eyes widen. Escape…? That isn’t possible. Illegals are brought to stay; that’s just how it went. He’s never heard of an escape- or even of an attempt.
Changmin’s eyes darken. “It won’t work.”
“How do you know?” Yunho asks.
Changmin turns his head, looking out over the fields of dead-grass wilderness. “I’m not stupid enough to risk it.”
(When Jaejoong looks back, and thinks of any moment he could have had his voice, he’d of wished for it to be that moment. He’d turn Changmin’s head back around and say Please, come with us. I know you don’t remember how to hope, but it’ll be worth it. Please, I know we’ve forgotten, but all we have to do is just fucking try.)
Yunho comes for them in the dead of night. He knocks three times on their door before picking the lock. He throws one set of civilians’ clothes to Jaejoong, one set to Changmin.
Jaejoong scrambles into his outfit, and it isn’t until he’s dressed that he realizes Changmin is just standing there, holding the clothes in a tight fist.
“C’mon, c’mon,” Yunho says. “We only have fifteen minutes before the guards-”
“I’m not coming,” Changmin says, his tone shaky but resolute.
Jaejoong looks at him frantically, but the younger man avoids his eyes. Yunho pleads and begs, but Changmin won’t change his mind. “Fine, I’m sorry. But we can’t just wait around-”
“Just go. Go,” Changmin repeats, only then looking at Jaejoong. Jaejoong reaches out to Changmin but the younger man steps back, his face smoothed over and Yunho is grabbing his hand, tugging him towards the door.
Jaejoong thinks of classrooms and panic and colors, as Changmin steps back again, into the shadows of their cell. He almost resists -he can’t just leave him- but it’s just a second of hesitation, not strong enough to stop Yunho from pulling him along.
They have to hide in a closet until the next shift-change and while they hide Yunho works with the band around Jaejoong’s neck. It’s a computerized thing and delicate work- it takes hours.
But the moment he feels the sssft-clik of its release, air rushes into his lungs like it hasn’t in three and a half years. He takes a deep breath and his chest expands and it’s the most beautiful feeling he’s ever felt. His mouth opens in a smile and he says-
Nothing. Yunho covers a hand with his mouth, a low “ssssssh” leaving his lips. Jaejoong’s eyes go wide and watery. The suffocating feeling’s gone but he just needs to say something, anything.
“Later,” Yunho breathes, his hand tightening and Jaejoong nods in miserable understanding.
They slip out at a side-door at dawn. The cam-sensor that monitors the area is switching tapes and the guards aren’t in the watchtowers yet. They have three minutes.
They duck and run along the walls, around the chain-link fence that runs around the jail-yard, sliding through the shadows and behind high weeds. They get halfway across when all of a sudden the alarm blares from inside the building, loud and insistent as always.
They hear shouts and Jaejoong peeks his head up, just for a second, looking into the yard. He expects guards to be running towards them but instead- it’s Changmin. Yunho’s running ahead but Jaejoong’s frozen, waiting.
Changmin runs straight at him, only stopping when he hits the fence. “You left the door unlocked behind you,” he explains, breathing hard. “One of the security guards noticed Yunho was gone- I heard them talking in the hall, I had to find you-”
And Jaejoong just stares, not knowing what to do. His dry hands grip the old fence and it hurts. He doesn’t even realize he can say anything until Changmin’s mouth drops and “Your voice-”
“Come,” Jaejoong manages out. It’s hoarse and barely even sounds like him, but it’s his voice and the thought sends his head spinning. “Please.”
Changmin’s eyes are too wide, too desperate, too old. His hands shake on the fence. “I can’t. Go, Jaejoong. I’ll distract them.”
“No-” He leans his body against Changmin’s, pretending like there isn’t cold metal between them.
Behind them Jaejoong hears dogs barking, men running, the sounds of the spotlights humming to life. He hears the search beginning.
Yunho’s probably already long gone- Jaejoong hopes he makes it.
“Jaejoong,” Changmin growls, but Jaejoong shakes his head.
“Why?” he croaks. “Illegal, why?”
Changmin sighs in fond anxiety. “I Dream,” he says quickly. “I Dream and that’s all.”
Jaejoong swallows roughly. “Sing,” he manages to say-and he tries to Sing, he really does, but it comes out more of hum and it’s not enough. When he looks up Changmin’s smiling sadly and then his eyes flick up, to something behind Jaejoong.
“Damnit, Jaejoong, c’mon!”
It’s all the warning he gets, and then Yunho is back, turning him around, and dragging him away. Jaejoong trips and staggers; he twists his head sees Changmin, fingers interlaced in the fence, watching them go- and then Jaejoong trips again and has to look down to gain his footing.
Yunho pulls him a hundred yards towards a line of trees. They’ve just made it when they hear the gunshots.
“N-o,” he gasps, his heart stuttering. He jerks his hand free, scrambles to get back, but Yunho’s right there, grabbing him, keeping him running.
In the distance there are more gunshots. More dogs barking, more alarms.
Jaejoong runs and stumbles and falters and branches hit his face, breaking skin. He’s breaking in more ways than one.
They run until they find and old, abandoned train-yard. They sleep in the shell of a rusty car, jumping at every creak and groan. They go two days without food or water, not daring to move. Jaejoong’s lips are cracked and bleeding when they finally venture out again.
They go for days, never stopping for longer than enough time to fall into a deep sleep. They don’t know where they are, but every once in a while they pass a little town. They go in at night, steal food from trashcans and sleep in overgrown pastures.
Jaejoong doesn’t Talk the entire time. Yunho whispers to him sometimes, but Jaejoong just can’t bring himself to say anything back. He’s long out of the habit- and, he thinks, his voice is worth nothing, if this is the price he had to pay for it.
A month later, they stop running. They’ve made it a city - a real city, far enough to be above immediate suspicion, big enough to quickly get lost in. Yunho gets them under-the-table jobs, no Registry required. They rent an apartment in a rundown old building and take turns going outside- and for necessity only. They’re too nervous to act normal, or even smile. They don’t Talk unless needed; they don’t speak about what happened.
Three months later, Jaejoong’s wakes up when Yunho rolls on top of him. He groans; the mattress isn’t comfortable, especially with the extra weight, but when opens his eyes Yunho is beaming down at him.
“Jaejoong,” he says excitedly, as if he’s only just realized it. “Jaejoong, we’re free.”
And Jaejoong doesn’t know why this day, why this moment - but it’s like it just hits him, too. Life is still hell and they don’t have any money and the apartment is shit but they aren’t owned by anyone- not anymore.
He smiles into their kiss. He cries into it, too.
And later when they lay together, the sun filters through the dust like gold and the shadows of clouds turn the light of the room from soft-grey to blue-white. Jaejoong runs his hands through Yunho’s hair and Sings- for real, this time. Yunho looks up at him, chin braced on Jaejoong’s chest. “I think I could listen to that forever,” he says softly.
Jaejoong traces the scar above Yunho’s lip. “Don’t lie. We’re in the real world, now- legi-ti-mate,” he adds, drawing out each syllable.
“And what do legitimate people do?”
Jaejoong smiles humorlessly. His finger goes up along Yunho’s cheek, tapping his eyelids closed. “They do what they’re made to do.”
(Jaejoong’s whole life is spent looking over his shoulder. He and Yunho stay on the move, never lingering in one place for too long until enough time has passed that they can safely contact Yunho’s family. His father sends them money, gets them fake Registries and Jaejoong doesn’t dare ask how.
Yunho works whatever jobs come his way. Their time in jail has left him adrift, his Perfection not able to compensate for a sense of lost identity. Jaejoong can only encourage him, as well as he can when he feels much the same. For his part he spends his time wandering the city. When the feeling strikes him he performs on street corners, in subway corridors; and it’s only in those echoing moments that Jaejoong can Sing and not be afraid.
Because in those moments, he’s letting his voice out like a lighthouse beacon- then, he’s looking over his shoulder in the hopes that everyone he left and lost might someday be there. He Sings them messages, an audiovisual broadcast, reminding them that he’s still here, that they can still find him.
And until they come, Jaejoong will wait on the shore and watch the lights on the dark water, the distant wavering stars, secretly imaging them all to be maps drawn by aliens, guiding them home).
started writing: 3/21/10
finished writing: 4/17/10
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I started writing this about a month ago, when I first heard a news report about gene patents. However, as of March 30, 2010, a NY District Court rejected the patent on the breast cancer gene, which sets a precedent that could invalidate all gene patents. On that same day my aunt passed away after fighting breast cancer for several years. This is for her, and all those who continue to fight for their lives and their freedom. You are all heroes and aliens; you are a million miles beyond anything I can ever hope to be ♥