though the brightest fell (oneshot)
title: though the brightest fell
genre: sci-fi, semi-angel!au
rating: r // (whoops)
pairing: sukai
length: ~5k words
warnings: (many) character deaths, slight violence/gore?!, vague smut (lol), language
summary: Jongin is the mistake, broken wings dragging across dusty streets and dark alleyways. Junmyeon is the angel who can't fly.
though the brightest fell;
Someone calls Jongin an angel hoarsely in the half light of dusk, when the shadows blend his shoulder blades and the protruding, crooked appendages fixed to them, as if he really does have wings. Jongin stares down at the old, homeless man lying in the dirt reaching out with his bent, scarred fingers to stroke the nonexistent feathers on his back and he laughs humorlessly, drawing back before the man can touch him. Angels don’t walk among the fallen and cruel, beside stained urban graffiti splattered in obscene scrawls across mottled alleyway walls, glinting dully in the fading rays of a dying day.
This is the fight of the silent, the soundless scream of the shattered broken.
This is the fight of the mistakes, the misfits.
This is the fight of the damned.
-
2020 AD marks the year of the Revolution, when some scientist named Byun Baekhyun figured out a way to genetically modify the genes of humans successfully enough to give them wings. Jongin saw him once at an assembly, tall hat pulled over his eyes and dyed brown hair curling around the nape of his neck, standing beside a lean figure with eye bags and a dark expression. Byun Baekhyun seemed like a small child then, the hints of a mischievous smile flitting across his lips, fingers light and quick. Definitely not someone who would figure out a way to give humans wings and then disappear off the face of the planet.
Definitely not someone who would ruin the lives of millions.
They had given a speech, something about experimenting with bacteria and plasmids and the human genome, mixed in with strange terms like gel electrophoresis and pipeting and something that had sounded like “a-pop-toe-sis.” Jongin remembers zoning out until the last phrase-“You were all made for this.”
It makes Jongin angry to think about, how he had looked around at the hundreds of faces around him with awe, thinking, this is who we are. Angels. Demons. Creatures, almost. The ones chosen to understand the power of flight.
It takes a few years for wings to develop for humans, to fully mature at around age ten. By then, Jongin knew something was terribly wrong with himself and others discovered that even with light, feathery wings attached to their shoulder blades and the muscles to move them, it was impossible to do much with them.
Humans are not meant to fly, and Byun Baekhyun realized that a little too late.
He left just like how he came, disappearing under the cover of a storm, leaving thousands of wandering experiments on the streets-for they were all experiments to the rest of the world, outsiders, mutants, freaks.
The ones with proper wings that grew and expanded from their shoulders were better off-even if they were considered strange creatures by others, at least they seemed like angels from some twisted fantasy novel, wreaking havoc and vengeance with their godly auras. Demons in the bodies of angels, driven crazy by the desire to fly and the inability to fit in with the rest.
You don’t mess with heaven was reflected in the other experiments, reflected in how Jongin stared at himself in the mirror every day for years and realized he had no wings, merely fleshy structures growing lopsidedly out of his back, just another nameless trial and error gone wrong. He is the hidden. He is the failure. He is the mistake.
Nothing is ever fair in war and peace, life and death.
-
Junmyeon is different.
He finds Jongin curled up on the ground in pain after a failed attempt to lift off from the bottom branch of a tree, gasping for breath as his lungs set on fire and he whimpers. It’s nighttime, the yellow lamplights on the street illuminating the sidewalk in halos of golden beams. There’s no mockery in Junmyeon’s expression or his words as he crouches down beside Jongin and asks hesitantly, “Are you okay?”
In the bright light and pain, Jongin thinks he’s finally found a real angel, hovering at the edges of his vision. He moans slightly and manages to shift his position slightly to get a better look at the figure bending over him.
“No, I don't think so.” Someone grasps his arms gently, supporting Jongin as he pushes him up, hair brushing against Jongin’s neck. “Can you walk? Lean on me.”
“I want to fly,” is all Jongin can choke out in the haze of agony covering his eyes as he leans on the stranger and tries to stay upright. “I want to have wings.”
“Still, that wasn’t something you should have done. Jumping out from a tree when you know it’s not going to work?” There it is. The rebuke. The inevitable tone of superiority and condescension that always shows up. Jongin closes his eyes and waits for the disdainful comment.
It never comes. “I’m Junmyeon,” the stranger sighs as he shifts his position so Jongin can lean more weight against him. “I’d better get you some bandages. Please don’t fall out of trees anymore. You’re broken enough already.”
-
Hide and seek becomes a deadly game of survival after a while, living on the streets and avoiding contact with most others. But it’s rather simple once you understand the rules. Run. Hide. Sleep in unoccupied areas tucked away in the edges of the city. Run again. Eat quickly before others steal your food. Avoid humans. Run some more. Pilfer through garbage. Steal clothing and tools or whatever you need. Run until your legs drop off and your wings bleed red instead of white and you collapse in some dark hellhole and die.
Most of all, don’t let them tear you down with their cruel laughter and words. Don’t have emotions. Ignore the catcalls and jeers when they glimpse the grotesque appendages sticking out of your shoulders and just hide, run away from the light.
Maybe if you follow these rules and survive a few years you’ll die in a nice hellhole instead. Maybe the fucking bastard who tried to give you those fucking useless wings will die in a hellhole too. That’s a nice last thought to have when you’re choking for your final breath.
-
“Sit here.” They take off his shirt first, and Jongin almost retches at the sight of the bloodstained cloth. Junmyeon’s grip is firm on his arm, but when Jongin shudders in pain, he relaxes his hold and pushes him gently towards the bathroom counter. “You’re dripping blood everywhere, so don’t move. Let me get my first aid kit.”
It’s too bright under the florescent lights, cold beams blinding Jongin’s vision when he tries to stop squinting. Everything is thrown into a kaleidoscope of confusion so he leans against the cool marble of the counter and tries not to stain the entire sink with the dark blood trickling down his back and arms.
“I got the bandages.” Junmyeon reappears with a swathe of filmy cloth in his curled fists. “This is going to be somewhat painful.”
Jongin merely nods, too spent and weak from the loss of blood to say anything. Junmyeon begins rubbing some sort of cream on his cuts, moving slowly and hesitantly, avoiding pressing hard on spots that make Jongin clench his teeth in agony.
He finishes rubbing the cream and starts rolling out the bandages. Junmyeon’s fingers are gentle and warm against the scarred tissue etched into his deformities, trailing softly down the bumps and scratches on Jongin’s skin. “Does it hurt?”
Jongin winces when Junmyeon wraps the bandages, the cool gauze grazing slightly against the raw, sensitive wounds. “Aren’t you revolted by them?” The scars. The gaping gashes. The countless times he’s tried to cut his own “wings” off, the white and angry red scars left from his failed attempts to hack them off because they’re a shame dragging him down from heaven all the way to hell.
“Why would I be revolted?” Junmyeon’s voice is soothing as he continues bandaging, and Jongin finds this conversation extremely strange-he’s sitting in the kitchen of a stranger who found him curled up on the ground, bleeding, outcast, and for once in his life, someone is accepting him for his deformity. He doesn’t know what to say.
“Why not?” he finally asks, closing his eyes, feeling the flutter of his eyelashes against his cheek. He thinks he hears Junmyeon sigh almost inaudibly, breath nearly unnoticeable.
“Do I have to?”
“Even I find them disgusting. How do I know if you don’t think they’re disgusting if even I think they are? I’m the mutant experiment creature here and you’re the lucky little human who should be whispering dirty insults into my ear right now. How is that our roles are reversed?” The questions come out harsher than he intends them to be, but Jongin doesn’t regret any of the words. They’re years of oppression built into an ugly truth, and the truth is something he doesn’t want to regret.
Somehow, one of Junmyeon’s hands finds its way to Jongin’s chest, where it rests there for a split second, warm against his beating heart. “You’re human. You’re living. You’re not a result of an experiment gone wrong.” The pressure of his hand disappears as fast as it appears, and Jongin looks up to see a slightly pink-faced Junmyeon staring steadily at the bandage in his hands. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.”
Junmyeon looks nice, Jongin decides, hair straight and bangs falling into his eyes, pretty fingers and pretty smile. “You’re weird.”
“What?” The look on Junmyeon’s face is so startled it’s almost priceless, but laughing will hurt too much, so Jongin restricts himself to a tiny smile.
“You keep on telling me you’re this and you’re that so I’m telling you that you’re weird. I don’t know what the hell you’re thinking, helping some outcast like me. But thanks, I guess.”
“You don’t need to thank me.” Junmyeon’s voice is muffled as he struggles to tie a bandage around Jongin’s arm, his fingers brushing against Jongin’s ribs. “It’s not like you can go see a doctor or anything, so I’m just filling in.”
“Are you a med student?”
“Not really. Sort of.” Junmyeon finishes wrapping all the bandages and begins cleaning up his first aid kit. “I have a spare mattress you can sleep on. Try not to bleed to death tonight or drip blood all over the floor. I’ll check your bandages at around three in the morning and change them if needed. Is that fine with you? I’ll have to clean this area up first though and scrub off all the blood. I’ll lead you to the mattress in a moment.”
“Jongin.”
“Hm?”
Jongin stares down at Junmyeon crouched over the tiled bathroom floor, scrubbing off his dried blood and he has the sudden urge to cry-not mouth open, short gasping, bawling sort of cry but the teary sort of cry, when you’re not sure if you’re happy or sad. “My name. It’s Jongin. And thank you.”
-
It takes him until about one in the morning to realize that wow, he’s an absolute idiot and what was he even thinking Junmyeon’s going to turn out into some serial killer or mad scientist and he’s going to murder Jongin in his sleep-
He sits up and grits his teeth when a flare of pain runs through his back, but pain is hardly a concern when his life is at stake. The front door is somewhere out there. If only he can figure out where the light is and avoid waking Junmyeon up.
Jongin manages to trip over something in the first five steps and he lands with a thump and a nearly suppressed groan as something seems to stab him in the shoulders. There’s a brief moment of silence, and then the lights flicker on and Junmyeon’s staring down at him, bleary-eyed and confused. “What the hell are you doing? You’re going to open up all your wounds. It’s not even time to check on your bandages yet.”
“I-” Jongin falters and gives up on trying to explain why he’s sprawled out on the floor at one in the morning.
“You were trying to escape, weren’t you?”
The question takes him by surprise and he jerks back. “How did you know?”
“I expected it, obviously.” Junmyeon bends down and extends his hand out. Jongin takes it reluctantly and painfully pulls himself up, aware of the fresh blood tricking down his arm. “You’ve gotten blood everywhere.”
“Sorry,” he mumbles in reply, not sure what else to say. Something like fear registers in his mind, but Junmyeon’s expression is more amused than annoyed, so it seems safe for now.
“Get back to bed,” Junmyeon says, pushing Jongin gently back to the mattress. “I’ll get some fresh bandages for you. And I guess I’ll tell you a story.”
“I didn’t know you were one for storytelling time,” Jongin attempts weakly when he’s sitting on the mattress again and Junmyeon is washing his wounds. Junmyeon doesn’t respond for a few moments, merely humming slightly under his breath as he continues to wash.
“I was around three years old when the Revolution happened,” he finally begins, voice quiet in the stillness of night, fingers gentle against Jongin’s shoulders. “So I guess I’m older than you by that many years. When I think of it now, I remember that my mother was pregnant at that time. She called my brother Sehun. I never got to see him. Years later, when I was old enough to understand, they told me they had taken Sehun as an experiment subject and he was one of the trials that resulted in death. They tried to pay my mother reparations for her loss. And that was when I became furious, because what sort of person pays money for the lives of others?” Junmyeon’s voice becomes shaky for a second, muffled and tight.
“So I promised that I would make a change. For my mother. For my parents. For all the people who were exploited and lured into this insane experiment. I became a researcher and that’s what I am today.” Jongin can almost see the determination shining in Junmyeon’s eyes, and he nearly smiles, because he’s never met someone with so much hope.
“You mean…”
“You could find your parents one day, Jongin.” There’s a sort of quiet resolve in Junmyeon’s tone and Jongin has this sudden ache of longing for the potential family he never had. “This is what I’m going to do. I’m going to figure out how to reverse your genes. It’s like creating mutations in genes on purpose, getting rid of the genes that code for wings. I can figure out how to get rid of your genes and everything will be okay.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
He falls asleep in Junmyeon’s arms sometime later, hazy thoughts and hazy words, not entirely sure if he’s supposed to be sleeping with some guy he’s just met, but it feels just right.
-
“Disgusting. Piece. Of. Filth.” Each word is accompanied by a swift kick at Jongin’s ribs, setting them on fire as he tries to roll out of the way. Blood trickles out of his mouth, dribbles down his chin, splatters in angry splashes of crimson paint vivid against the concrete sidewalk. “Don’t try to run away, you stupid piece of shit. I’m not done with you.”
“Hey you, stop it!” The blows stop and there’s indistinct arguing fading into the distance, leaving Jongin hunched over on the ground, unable to breath, in utter agony, but alive. He closes his eyes, not surprised to feel tears trickling down his cheek. It’s hard to follow to rule of not having emotions, especially when you don’t even have wings. Flying means escaping all the suffering.
He wishes he can fly.
-
The lab Junmyeon works at is more of an underground maze than an institution, hidden away from the prying eyes of government officials. He shuts himself up in the laboratory for a few hours or so, telling Jongin to stay out of the way and to only watch, not touch. “This is an illegal place,” he says when Jongin’s face falls, “and it’s dangerous work. The government would go nuts if they found about what I’m doing. So stay out of the way-there’s too much risk if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
Jongin spends about an hour watching Junmyeon run experiments, but it gets boring to stare at the older man squinting at test tubes after a while. “Why would the government disprove of this place? Aren’t you helping them with this? It’s not like people like others like me. Shouldn’t getting rid of our wings and stuff be something the government will support?”
“If this was something trustworthy, there would be so many other people working at this by now. If this was something people actually cared about, more research would be happening.” Junmyeon looks directly into Jongin’s eyes and Jongin has the sudden urge to shiver. “And you know how that is. The thing about working with human genes and mutations is that I might never figure out a way. The government is afraid that experiments like this might turn out like Byun Baekhyun’s-I could make everything worse instead of better. And that’s completely true. But I can do this. Trust me.”
“I trust you.” And Jongin really does, because he’s somehow fallen for the ideas of this bright-eyed man who claims he can save the world.
“We could look for the others subjected to the experiments,” Junmyeon continues excitedly, “create a revolution or something. Which is pretty ironic, considering that the experiment was originally called the Revolution.”
“What should we call it?”
“The Rerevolution?”
Jongin stares at Junmyeon half incredulously, half exasperatedly. “You’re so funny. Not.” Junmyeon cracks up and Jongin gives up on hiding his laughter, almost falling out of his chair. Something broken feels whole again.
-
Sometimes, when Jongin leans in too far against Junmyeon to peer at a petri dish, Junmyeon’s breath hitches slightly and when Jongin draws back, there’s a slight flush on Junmyeon’s face and his eyes are distracted, averting from Jongin’s gaze.
Junmyeon has captivating eyes, more bronze than brown, long eyelashes framing them. It feels weird to have someone notice Jongin when he’s been hated his entire life. Jongin wonders what it feels like to run his hands through Junmyeon’s hair.
-
If he just reaches up on his toes in the wind and spread his arms out along with the broken, twisted appendages on his back, it almost feels like he’s flying. Maybe his eyes sting a little in the breeze tearing at them, wet at the edges, drops trickling down his face.
Just a little more, and if he jumps, then for a moment, it feels like he’s soaring through the air before he lands on the ground, chained to the force of gravity.
-
“Don’t you ever get tired?” Jongin asks when Junmyeon sits back in his seat and wipes at his forehead, expression blank and slightly off focus as he gazes off into the distance, probably thinking of his experiments. “You’re always working, for something that’s taking forever to achieve. Doesn’t it get frustrating?”
“Yeah,” Junmyeon says after a long while, “it’s quite irritating, to be honest. At times, I hate the waiting and the lack of results. But this is what I’m meant to do, isn’t it? For Sehun. For you. For everyone else.”
Junmyeon should be the angel. Maybe if Junmyeon had been an experiment he would be the trial gone right, the only one with wings and feathers that let him fly. Junmyeon with his flawless skin and smile, never-ending perseverance and unselfishness. Junmyeon is the actual angel, and Jongin is just the mistake, the fake.
“You’re right,” he says quietly, sitting down by Junmyeon. To his surprise, Junmyeon stands up abruptly and shakes his head.
“Don’t distract me,” he says shortly, then turns away to work on his experiments again. Jongin sits there frozen in shock, before standing up to follow Junmyeon.
“Sorry, what?”
Junmyeon avoids his question and stares down at the pipet in his hands, almost angry in his movements as he continues working with the DNA-whether he’s angry at Jongin or himself, Jongin can’t tell. “Nothing. Just don’t stand so close. I can’t concentrate. You’re distracting.”
Jongin thinks of how Junmyeon flushes whenever Jongin’s fingers brush against his arm, how he sometimes drifts off into space when talking to Jongin, as if he’s too afraid to pay too much attention to him. There’s a small oh forming in the back of his mind, but then Jongin thinks about the number of times he’s stared at Junmyeon and felt that slightly uncomfortable pressure in his throat and chest, almost warm and tingly, spreading across his body.
Later that night, when they’re back in Junmyeon’s apartment, Jongin asks Junmyeon what he means by distracting. Junmyeon stutters for a bit, fumbling with his fingers, flushing such an obvious pink that Jongin has to laugh. When Junmyeon looks at him, flustered, the pressure comes back again, so Jongin ventures a hesitant kiss, just a peck on the lips, more out of curiosity and some sudden urge to figure out what Junmyeon tastes like.
Junmyeon stares back at him for a full second, eyes darkening, and Jongin has the vague thought that Junmyeon looks less like an angel in this lighting, before they’re kissing again, and somehow, he’s got Junmyeon pinned to the wall as Junmyeon pulls him closer, fingers threaded through the loops of his belt.
“Someone once told me,” Junmyeon murmurs in between gasps for air as they break free and stare at each other in the semidarkness, “that if you’re capable of love, you end up falling in love. I guess I fell too much in love with my research.”
“And?” Jongin prompts between butterfly kisses down Junmyeon’s collarbones, fingers trailing to the zipper of his jeans, asking is it okay? in the lingering silence.
“You feel whole when you’re in love. Like you can cross mountains and stuff. Like you can do anything.”
Junmyeon’s breath hitches when Jongin forces his jeans down to his knees and kisses the inside of his thighs. He tightens his grip on Jongin’s shoulders, fingers clenching almost painfully as Jongin swallows him, soft moans escaping every once in a while. Jongin sucks furiously, losing himself in the touch of Junmyeon, eyes closed as Junmyeon comes, panting.
They come up for a heated kiss afterwards, lips melding together, sloppy but perfect. Junmyeon traces characters on the back of Jongin’s deformities, whispering something about them being beautiful, better than wings.
“You make me feel like I can do anything.”
Jongin finally learns what it feels like to run his hands through Junmyeon’s hair. It’s a very nice feeling.
-
The time ticks on quickly, one day after another, one week after another. At times it feels like they’re running out of time, but Jongin can’t quite figure out why, because they shouldn’t have anything to worry about. Discovery isn’t the most plausible thing at the moment, but it’s always lurking at the edges of their thoughts, and Junmyeon ends up shutting himself in the lab for days while Jongin remains in the apartment, wandering around and worrying about something intangible.
There’s something sad about Junmyeon’s kisses when they sit together on the couch, as if he’s desperate to find the solution that always skirts away from the tips of his fingers, evading his grasp. Jongin still can’t get used to the fact that there’s someone out there who cares for him like Junmyeon does, but he responds to Junmyeon’s I love yous with I love yous of his own, because something about them ignites a spark he can’t quite identify.
He almost believes that they can live together for the rest of their lives, once Junmyeon succeeds and changes the world. He almost believes in a happy ending.
-
Every once in a while Junmyeon almost says “I’ve got it,” but there’s always something hindering his experiments. Jongin begins to notice shadows in the lab that disappear whenever he walks towards them.
-
They come in the middle of the day, an entire crowd in ridiculous looking suits like they’ve all appeared out of the screen of some movie about contagions and viruses. Someone grabs Jongin and twists his arms behind his back, another person pulls Junmyeon out of the lab. The shadows around the lab suddenly make sense.
“You are under arrest for treason to the government and researching something classified as highly dangerous,” a voice begins, when Junmyeon struggles and tries to make a run for it. Someone’s yelling, Jongin can’t see a thing, someone pulls out a gun, aims, pulls the trigger and-
bang
-Junmyeon collapses in front of Jongin, eyes lifeless and limp; someone’s swinging a dark shape at his head now, there’s an exploding pain between his eyes, and everything goes black.
He wakes up in an alleyway, the image of Junmyeon dying flashing in his eyes over and over again, the only comprehensible thought in his mind echoing Junmyeon Junmyeon Junmyeonjunmyeonjunmyeonjunmyeon.
-
The second and last time Jongin ever saw Byun Baekhyun was on the rooftop of the institution he was raised up in along with the other experiments. He was nine at that time, wings almost developing, waiting for the final phase of growing feathers that he would soon realize would never happen.
The scientist didn’t notice him for a few moments at first, staring at the clouds in the horizon, wind blowing through his hair and sweeping it to the side. Jongin stood still against the stiff breeze, watching Byun Baekhyun sit down on the edge of the roof.
He shifted his position and accidently kicked a small stone. The sound caused the scientist to turn around in surprise, and when he saw Jongin, something darkened in his expression, slightly, subtly, but Jongin still noticed it.
“Excuse me…?” he began, letting the question hang in the air. Byun Baekhyun scrunched his expression, and suddenly, he seemed more like a child than a mysterious magician, a child about to cry, almost. It caught Jongin off guard.
“Monster,” he muttered, and thunder rumbled in the distance. The skies opened up and it began raining, drenching Jongin as he peered up at Byun Baekhyun underneath the bangs plastered to his forehead.
“Monster?”
“This is what I’ve done, isn’t it?” The scientist sighed and leaned forward slightly in the wind. It was storm season, wild and dark, just like when he had first appeared and awed the world with his claim that he could make humans fly.
“What have you done?”
Jongin blinked and missed the slip, the jump, the smile and closed eyes. When his vision cleared against the rain again, Byun Baekhyun was gone from the rooftop, only his coat left behind, waving in the wind like some flag of victory, or perhaps surrender.
They told Jongin and the rest of the experiments the next day that Byun Baekhyun had disappeared with the storm and a year later they drove him out for not being able to fly. No one claimed to know what had happened to the scientist, but Jongin never forgot how he had looked over the edge of the rooftop and saw the dark shape huddled on the ground, blood stains and rain mixing together on the pavement, washing away a life.
-
The abandoned institution looks the same as it was when Jongin left it years ago, despite the vines infesting every single wall, door, structure. He staggers up stairs and across floors, moving more from memory than sight, until he reaches the roof. The government will probably start looking for him in a while once they realize he hasn’t died in the alleyway. They’ll catch him and put him in quarantine, for questioning. For giving away all of Junmyeon’s secrets, Junmyeon’s life, Junmyeon’s love.
There was never a point in a revolution. Jongin stares out at the sky and the urge to smile bitterly twists at his lips. What point is there in saving the damned? Even if Junmyeon had succeeded, and Jongin managed to convince the others, what revolution would there be? They would never fly, and after all their fighting, after lives would be lost, there would only be a few left to enjoy the aftermath, if they even succeeded. They would die out, and merely serve as a blot of ink upon the pages of history, forgotten in a few decades or centuries.
Jongin walks over to the edge of the roof and looks down, like how he did years ago when Byun Baekhyun jumped over. He notices figures milling about below him and laughs quietly to himself. They’ve noticed he’s not dead, and they’ve probably found his trail. A few figures enter the building. It’s only a matter of time before they find him on the rooftop and catch him.
He wants to fly one last time. Junmyeon’s gone forever now, but Junmyeon was an angel who couldn’t fly either. Maybe they’ll be able to fly together towards the heavens later, or, as Jongin realizes with a smirk, maybe he’s going to hell and he’s never going to fly.
It’s a long way down from the roof to the ground. His knees are shaking, fingers trembling as he scoots closer to the edge until the tips of his toes are hanging in space. Footsteps echo behind him and voices sound. They’ve found him.
Junmyeon. He bends over slightly, staring down at the ground below him. “Yah, Byun Baekhyun!” The call echoes down the side of the building, into the wind, disappearing like the lost dreams, hopes, and wishes he’s never had.
He jumps, eyes closed, and for a moment before the end, he’s soaring through the air at last.
sukai for hanna (daexings) because i owe her chenlay therefore sukai = chenlay idek lol. forever love to helena (shanwens) for betaing!!
i wanted to deconstruct winged people because deconstruction is always fun hehe. so basically, in bio class, we were talking about changing genes and stuff and one of my classmates asked if it was possible to change the human genome so that people would have wings. and my bio teacher replied that it would be really difficult because you need the right combination of genes to grow them, and humans aren’t really meant to grow feathers or scales or whatever is needed on the wings. so i searched around online after i got home, and i got the idea for this fic. this is also somewhat based off of the maximum ride series. if people are going to try to give humans wings, they’re going to have to go through a lot of failures and trials before they get it right. so that’s how jongin comes in-he’s the failure of the experiment, a trial gone wrong. no one ever talks about them, so i thought it would be cool to write about in deconstructing the entire notion of winged humans. also, humans aren’t really structurally adapted to fly, so that’s why even the people who end up with proper wings cannot fly.
i only planned on killing jongin off in this fic but apparently only killing off one character when there are three main ones doesn’t work with me wow i really hate my brain sometimes i need to stop killing everyone why am i so obsessed with killing people this is not good uh. but yeah so i ended up killing baekhyun and junmyeon woot o/
this reminds me of as the smoke clears orz i need to stop writing so much protector!junmyeon i mean seriously first with sehun and now with jongin i might as well write sekai actually omg i really love sekai they are so adorable and hot adjlfjasdlfjsf /rambles
ilikedonuts
also exo’s comeback makes me cry like sm pls i have completely given up on you why are you making everyone crawl around on the floor and snarl at the screen what is this what happened to the schoolboy concept how does xoxo kisses and hugs match with wolves I DON’T UNDERSTAND SHRIEKS ANGRILY but now i can’t stop listening to the highlight medley oh my god the songs are so good!!!!!!!!!!! /flails
genre: sci-fi, semi-angel!au
rating: r // (whoops)
pairing: sukai
length: ~5k words
warnings: (many) character deaths, slight violence/gore?!, vague smut (lol), language
summary: Jongin is the mistake, broken wings dragging across dusty streets and dark alleyways. Junmyeon is the angel who can't fly.
though the brightest fell;
Someone calls Jongin an angel hoarsely in the half light of dusk, when the shadows blend his shoulder blades and the protruding, crooked appendages fixed to them, as if he really does have wings. Jongin stares down at the old, homeless man lying in the dirt reaching out with his bent, scarred fingers to stroke the nonexistent feathers on his back and he laughs humorlessly, drawing back before the man can touch him. Angels don’t walk among the fallen and cruel, beside stained urban graffiti splattered in obscene scrawls across mottled alleyway walls, glinting dully in the fading rays of a dying day.
This is the fight of the silent, the soundless scream of the shattered broken.
This is the fight of the mistakes, the misfits.
This is the fight of the damned.
-
2020 AD marks the year of the Revolution, when some scientist named Byun Baekhyun figured out a way to genetically modify the genes of humans successfully enough to give them wings. Jongin saw him once at an assembly, tall hat pulled over his eyes and dyed brown hair curling around the nape of his neck, standing beside a lean figure with eye bags and a dark expression. Byun Baekhyun seemed like a small child then, the hints of a mischievous smile flitting across his lips, fingers light and quick. Definitely not someone who would figure out a way to give humans wings and then disappear off the face of the planet.
Definitely not someone who would ruin the lives of millions.
They had given a speech, something about experimenting with bacteria and plasmids and the human genome, mixed in with strange terms like gel electrophoresis and pipeting and something that had sounded like “a-pop-toe-sis.” Jongin remembers zoning out until the last phrase-“You were all made for this.”
It makes Jongin angry to think about, how he had looked around at the hundreds of faces around him with awe, thinking, this is who we are. Angels. Demons. Creatures, almost. The ones chosen to understand the power of flight.
It takes a few years for wings to develop for humans, to fully mature at around age ten. By then, Jongin knew something was terribly wrong with himself and others discovered that even with light, feathery wings attached to their shoulder blades and the muscles to move them, it was impossible to do much with them.
Humans are not meant to fly, and Byun Baekhyun realized that a little too late.
He left just like how he came, disappearing under the cover of a storm, leaving thousands of wandering experiments on the streets-for they were all experiments to the rest of the world, outsiders, mutants, freaks.
The ones with proper wings that grew and expanded from their shoulders were better off-even if they were considered strange creatures by others, at least they seemed like angels from some twisted fantasy novel, wreaking havoc and vengeance with their godly auras. Demons in the bodies of angels, driven crazy by the desire to fly and the inability to fit in with the rest.
You don’t mess with heaven was reflected in the other experiments, reflected in how Jongin stared at himself in the mirror every day for years and realized he had no wings, merely fleshy structures growing lopsidedly out of his back, just another nameless trial and error gone wrong. He is the hidden. He is the failure. He is the mistake.
Nothing is ever fair in war and peace, life and death.
-
Junmyeon is different.
He finds Jongin curled up on the ground in pain after a failed attempt to lift off from the bottom branch of a tree, gasping for breath as his lungs set on fire and he whimpers. It’s nighttime, the yellow lamplights on the street illuminating the sidewalk in halos of golden beams. There’s no mockery in Junmyeon’s expression or his words as he crouches down beside Jongin and asks hesitantly, “Are you okay?”
In the bright light and pain, Jongin thinks he’s finally found a real angel, hovering at the edges of his vision. He moans slightly and manages to shift his position slightly to get a better look at the figure bending over him.
“No, I don't think so.” Someone grasps his arms gently, supporting Jongin as he pushes him up, hair brushing against Jongin’s neck. “Can you walk? Lean on me.”
“I want to fly,” is all Jongin can choke out in the haze of agony covering his eyes as he leans on the stranger and tries to stay upright. “I want to have wings.”
“Still, that wasn’t something you should have done. Jumping out from a tree when you know it’s not going to work?” There it is. The rebuke. The inevitable tone of superiority and condescension that always shows up. Jongin closes his eyes and waits for the disdainful comment.
It never comes. “I’m Junmyeon,” the stranger sighs as he shifts his position so Jongin can lean more weight against him. “I’d better get you some bandages. Please don’t fall out of trees anymore. You’re broken enough already.”
-
Hide and seek becomes a deadly game of survival after a while, living on the streets and avoiding contact with most others. But it’s rather simple once you understand the rules. Run. Hide. Sleep in unoccupied areas tucked away in the edges of the city. Run again. Eat quickly before others steal your food. Avoid humans. Run some more. Pilfer through garbage. Steal clothing and tools or whatever you need. Run until your legs drop off and your wings bleed red instead of white and you collapse in some dark hellhole and die.
Most of all, don’t let them tear you down with their cruel laughter and words. Don’t have emotions. Ignore the catcalls and jeers when they glimpse the grotesque appendages sticking out of your shoulders and just hide, run away from the light.
Maybe if you follow these rules and survive a few years you’ll die in a nice hellhole instead. Maybe the fucking bastard who tried to give you those fucking useless wings will die in a hellhole too. That’s a nice last thought to have when you’re choking for your final breath.
-
“Sit here.” They take off his shirt first, and Jongin almost retches at the sight of the bloodstained cloth. Junmyeon’s grip is firm on his arm, but when Jongin shudders in pain, he relaxes his hold and pushes him gently towards the bathroom counter. “You’re dripping blood everywhere, so don’t move. Let me get my first aid kit.”
It’s too bright under the florescent lights, cold beams blinding Jongin’s vision when he tries to stop squinting. Everything is thrown into a kaleidoscope of confusion so he leans against the cool marble of the counter and tries not to stain the entire sink with the dark blood trickling down his back and arms.
“I got the bandages.” Junmyeon reappears with a swathe of filmy cloth in his curled fists. “This is going to be somewhat painful.”
Jongin merely nods, too spent and weak from the loss of blood to say anything. Junmyeon begins rubbing some sort of cream on his cuts, moving slowly and hesitantly, avoiding pressing hard on spots that make Jongin clench his teeth in agony.
He finishes rubbing the cream and starts rolling out the bandages. Junmyeon’s fingers are gentle and warm against the scarred tissue etched into his deformities, trailing softly down the bumps and scratches on Jongin’s skin. “Does it hurt?”
Jongin winces when Junmyeon wraps the bandages, the cool gauze grazing slightly against the raw, sensitive wounds. “Aren’t you revolted by them?” The scars. The gaping gashes. The countless times he’s tried to cut his own “wings” off, the white and angry red scars left from his failed attempts to hack them off because they’re a shame dragging him down from heaven all the way to hell.
“Why would I be revolted?” Junmyeon’s voice is soothing as he continues bandaging, and Jongin finds this conversation extremely strange-he’s sitting in the kitchen of a stranger who found him curled up on the ground, bleeding, outcast, and for once in his life, someone is accepting him for his deformity. He doesn’t know what to say.
“Why not?” he finally asks, closing his eyes, feeling the flutter of his eyelashes against his cheek. He thinks he hears Junmyeon sigh almost inaudibly, breath nearly unnoticeable.
“Do I have to?”
“Even I find them disgusting. How do I know if you don’t think they’re disgusting if even I think they are? I’m the mutant experiment creature here and you’re the lucky little human who should be whispering dirty insults into my ear right now. How is that our roles are reversed?” The questions come out harsher than he intends them to be, but Jongin doesn’t regret any of the words. They’re years of oppression built into an ugly truth, and the truth is something he doesn’t want to regret.
Somehow, one of Junmyeon’s hands finds its way to Jongin’s chest, where it rests there for a split second, warm against his beating heart. “You’re human. You’re living. You’re not a result of an experiment gone wrong.” The pressure of his hand disappears as fast as it appears, and Jongin looks up to see a slightly pink-faced Junmyeon staring steadily at the bandage in his hands. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.”
Junmyeon looks nice, Jongin decides, hair straight and bangs falling into his eyes, pretty fingers and pretty smile. “You’re weird.”
“What?” The look on Junmyeon’s face is so startled it’s almost priceless, but laughing will hurt too much, so Jongin restricts himself to a tiny smile.
“You keep on telling me you’re this and you’re that so I’m telling you that you’re weird. I don’t know what the hell you’re thinking, helping some outcast like me. But thanks, I guess.”
“You don’t need to thank me.” Junmyeon’s voice is muffled as he struggles to tie a bandage around Jongin’s arm, his fingers brushing against Jongin’s ribs. “It’s not like you can go see a doctor or anything, so I’m just filling in.”
“Are you a med student?”
“Not really. Sort of.” Junmyeon finishes wrapping all the bandages and begins cleaning up his first aid kit. “I have a spare mattress you can sleep on. Try not to bleed to death tonight or drip blood all over the floor. I’ll check your bandages at around three in the morning and change them if needed. Is that fine with you? I’ll have to clean this area up first though and scrub off all the blood. I’ll lead you to the mattress in a moment.”
“Jongin.”
“Hm?”
Jongin stares down at Junmyeon crouched over the tiled bathroom floor, scrubbing off his dried blood and he has the sudden urge to cry-not mouth open, short gasping, bawling sort of cry but the teary sort of cry, when you’re not sure if you’re happy or sad. “My name. It’s Jongin. And thank you.”
-
It takes him until about one in the morning to realize that wow, he’s an absolute idiot and what was he even thinking Junmyeon’s going to turn out into some serial killer or mad scientist and he’s going to murder Jongin in his sleep-
He sits up and grits his teeth when a flare of pain runs through his back, but pain is hardly a concern when his life is at stake. The front door is somewhere out there. If only he can figure out where the light is and avoid waking Junmyeon up.
Jongin manages to trip over something in the first five steps and he lands with a thump and a nearly suppressed groan as something seems to stab him in the shoulders. There’s a brief moment of silence, and then the lights flicker on and Junmyeon’s staring down at him, bleary-eyed and confused. “What the hell are you doing? You’re going to open up all your wounds. It’s not even time to check on your bandages yet.”
“I-” Jongin falters and gives up on trying to explain why he’s sprawled out on the floor at one in the morning.
“You were trying to escape, weren’t you?”
The question takes him by surprise and he jerks back. “How did you know?”
“I expected it, obviously.” Junmyeon bends down and extends his hand out. Jongin takes it reluctantly and painfully pulls himself up, aware of the fresh blood tricking down his arm. “You’ve gotten blood everywhere.”
“Sorry,” he mumbles in reply, not sure what else to say. Something like fear registers in his mind, but Junmyeon’s expression is more amused than annoyed, so it seems safe for now.
“Get back to bed,” Junmyeon says, pushing Jongin gently back to the mattress. “I’ll get some fresh bandages for you. And I guess I’ll tell you a story.”
“I didn’t know you were one for storytelling time,” Jongin attempts weakly when he’s sitting on the mattress again and Junmyeon is washing his wounds. Junmyeon doesn’t respond for a few moments, merely humming slightly under his breath as he continues to wash.
“I was around three years old when the Revolution happened,” he finally begins, voice quiet in the stillness of night, fingers gentle against Jongin’s shoulders. “So I guess I’m older than you by that many years. When I think of it now, I remember that my mother was pregnant at that time. She called my brother Sehun. I never got to see him. Years later, when I was old enough to understand, they told me they had taken Sehun as an experiment subject and he was one of the trials that resulted in death. They tried to pay my mother reparations for her loss. And that was when I became furious, because what sort of person pays money for the lives of others?” Junmyeon’s voice becomes shaky for a second, muffled and tight.
“So I promised that I would make a change. For my mother. For my parents. For all the people who were exploited and lured into this insane experiment. I became a researcher and that’s what I am today.” Jongin can almost see the determination shining in Junmyeon’s eyes, and he nearly smiles, because he’s never met someone with so much hope.
“You mean…”
“You could find your parents one day, Jongin.” There’s a sort of quiet resolve in Junmyeon’s tone and Jongin has this sudden ache of longing for the potential family he never had. “This is what I’m going to do. I’m going to figure out how to reverse your genes. It’s like creating mutations in genes on purpose, getting rid of the genes that code for wings. I can figure out how to get rid of your genes and everything will be okay.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
He falls asleep in Junmyeon’s arms sometime later, hazy thoughts and hazy words, not entirely sure if he’s supposed to be sleeping with some guy he’s just met, but it feels just right.
-
“Disgusting. Piece. Of. Filth.” Each word is accompanied by a swift kick at Jongin’s ribs, setting them on fire as he tries to roll out of the way. Blood trickles out of his mouth, dribbles down his chin, splatters in angry splashes of crimson paint vivid against the concrete sidewalk. “Don’t try to run away, you stupid piece of shit. I’m not done with you.”
“Hey you, stop it!” The blows stop and there’s indistinct arguing fading into the distance, leaving Jongin hunched over on the ground, unable to breath, in utter agony, but alive. He closes his eyes, not surprised to feel tears trickling down his cheek. It’s hard to follow to rule of not having emotions, especially when you don’t even have wings. Flying means escaping all the suffering.
He wishes he can fly.
-
The lab Junmyeon works at is more of an underground maze than an institution, hidden away from the prying eyes of government officials. He shuts himself up in the laboratory for a few hours or so, telling Jongin to stay out of the way and to only watch, not touch. “This is an illegal place,” he says when Jongin’s face falls, “and it’s dangerous work. The government would go nuts if they found about what I’m doing. So stay out of the way-there’s too much risk if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
Jongin spends about an hour watching Junmyeon run experiments, but it gets boring to stare at the older man squinting at test tubes after a while. “Why would the government disprove of this place? Aren’t you helping them with this? It’s not like people like others like me. Shouldn’t getting rid of our wings and stuff be something the government will support?”
“If this was something trustworthy, there would be so many other people working at this by now. If this was something people actually cared about, more research would be happening.” Junmyeon looks directly into Jongin’s eyes and Jongin has the sudden urge to shiver. “And you know how that is. The thing about working with human genes and mutations is that I might never figure out a way. The government is afraid that experiments like this might turn out like Byun Baekhyun’s-I could make everything worse instead of better. And that’s completely true. But I can do this. Trust me.”
“I trust you.” And Jongin really does, because he’s somehow fallen for the ideas of this bright-eyed man who claims he can save the world.
“We could look for the others subjected to the experiments,” Junmyeon continues excitedly, “create a revolution or something. Which is pretty ironic, considering that the experiment was originally called the Revolution.”
“What should we call it?”
“The Rerevolution?”
Jongin stares at Junmyeon half incredulously, half exasperatedly. “You’re so funny. Not.” Junmyeon cracks up and Jongin gives up on hiding his laughter, almost falling out of his chair. Something broken feels whole again.
-
Sometimes, when Jongin leans in too far against Junmyeon to peer at a petri dish, Junmyeon’s breath hitches slightly and when Jongin draws back, there’s a slight flush on Junmyeon’s face and his eyes are distracted, averting from Jongin’s gaze.
Junmyeon has captivating eyes, more bronze than brown, long eyelashes framing them. It feels weird to have someone notice Jongin when he’s been hated his entire life. Jongin wonders what it feels like to run his hands through Junmyeon’s hair.
-
If he just reaches up on his toes in the wind and spread his arms out along with the broken, twisted appendages on his back, it almost feels like he’s flying. Maybe his eyes sting a little in the breeze tearing at them, wet at the edges, drops trickling down his face.
Just a little more, and if he jumps, then for a moment, it feels like he’s soaring through the air before he lands on the ground, chained to the force of gravity.
-
“Don’t you ever get tired?” Jongin asks when Junmyeon sits back in his seat and wipes at his forehead, expression blank and slightly off focus as he gazes off into the distance, probably thinking of his experiments. “You’re always working, for something that’s taking forever to achieve. Doesn’t it get frustrating?”
“Yeah,” Junmyeon says after a long while, “it’s quite irritating, to be honest. At times, I hate the waiting and the lack of results. But this is what I’m meant to do, isn’t it? For Sehun. For you. For everyone else.”
Junmyeon should be the angel. Maybe if Junmyeon had been an experiment he would be the trial gone right, the only one with wings and feathers that let him fly. Junmyeon with his flawless skin and smile, never-ending perseverance and unselfishness. Junmyeon is the actual angel, and Jongin is just the mistake, the fake.
“You’re right,” he says quietly, sitting down by Junmyeon. To his surprise, Junmyeon stands up abruptly and shakes his head.
“Don’t distract me,” he says shortly, then turns away to work on his experiments again. Jongin sits there frozen in shock, before standing up to follow Junmyeon.
“Sorry, what?”
Junmyeon avoids his question and stares down at the pipet in his hands, almost angry in his movements as he continues working with the DNA-whether he’s angry at Jongin or himself, Jongin can’t tell. “Nothing. Just don’t stand so close. I can’t concentrate. You’re distracting.”
Jongin thinks of how Junmyeon flushes whenever Jongin’s fingers brush against his arm, how he sometimes drifts off into space when talking to Jongin, as if he’s too afraid to pay too much attention to him. There’s a small oh forming in the back of his mind, but then Jongin thinks about the number of times he’s stared at Junmyeon and felt that slightly uncomfortable pressure in his throat and chest, almost warm and tingly, spreading across his body.
Later that night, when they’re back in Junmyeon’s apartment, Jongin asks Junmyeon what he means by distracting. Junmyeon stutters for a bit, fumbling with his fingers, flushing such an obvious pink that Jongin has to laugh. When Junmyeon looks at him, flustered, the pressure comes back again, so Jongin ventures a hesitant kiss, just a peck on the lips, more out of curiosity and some sudden urge to figure out what Junmyeon tastes like.
Junmyeon stares back at him for a full second, eyes darkening, and Jongin has the vague thought that Junmyeon looks less like an angel in this lighting, before they’re kissing again, and somehow, he’s got Junmyeon pinned to the wall as Junmyeon pulls him closer, fingers threaded through the loops of his belt.
“Someone once told me,” Junmyeon murmurs in between gasps for air as they break free and stare at each other in the semidarkness, “that if you’re capable of love, you end up falling in love. I guess I fell too much in love with my research.”
“And?” Jongin prompts between butterfly kisses down Junmyeon’s collarbones, fingers trailing to the zipper of his jeans, asking is it okay? in the lingering silence.
“You feel whole when you’re in love. Like you can cross mountains and stuff. Like you can do anything.”
Junmyeon’s breath hitches when Jongin forces his jeans down to his knees and kisses the inside of his thighs. He tightens his grip on Jongin’s shoulders, fingers clenching almost painfully as Jongin swallows him, soft moans escaping every once in a while. Jongin sucks furiously, losing himself in the touch of Junmyeon, eyes closed as Junmyeon comes, panting.
They come up for a heated kiss afterwards, lips melding together, sloppy but perfect. Junmyeon traces characters on the back of Jongin’s deformities, whispering something about them being beautiful, better than wings.
“You make me feel like I can do anything.”
Jongin finally learns what it feels like to run his hands through Junmyeon’s hair. It’s a very nice feeling.
-
The time ticks on quickly, one day after another, one week after another. At times it feels like they’re running out of time, but Jongin can’t quite figure out why, because they shouldn’t have anything to worry about. Discovery isn’t the most plausible thing at the moment, but it’s always lurking at the edges of their thoughts, and Junmyeon ends up shutting himself in the lab for days while Jongin remains in the apartment, wandering around and worrying about something intangible.
There’s something sad about Junmyeon’s kisses when they sit together on the couch, as if he’s desperate to find the solution that always skirts away from the tips of his fingers, evading his grasp. Jongin still can’t get used to the fact that there’s someone out there who cares for him like Junmyeon does, but he responds to Junmyeon’s I love yous with I love yous of his own, because something about them ignites a spark he can’t quite identify.
He almost believes that they can live together for the rest of their lives, once Junmyeon succeeds and changes the world. He almost believes in a happy ending.
-
Every once in a while Junmyeon almost says “I’ve got it,” but there’s always something hindering his experiments. Jongin begins to notice shadows in the lab that disappear whenever he walks towards them.
-
They come in the middle of the day, an entire crowd in ridiculous looking suits like they’ve all appeared out of the screen of some movie about contagions and viruses. Someone grabs Jongin and twists his arms behind his back, another person pulls Junmyeon out of the lab. The shadows around the lab suddenly make sense.
“You are under arrest for treason to the government and researching something classified as highly dangerous,” a voice begins, when Junmyeon struggles and tries to make a run for it. Someone’s yelling, Jongin can’t see a thing, someone pulls out a gun, aims, pulls the trigger and-
bang
-Junmyeon collapses in front of Jongin, eyes lifeless and limp; someone’s swinging a dark shape at his head now, there’s an exploding pain between his eyes, and everything goes black.
He wakes up in an alleyway, the image of Junmyeon dying flashing in his eyes over and over again, the only comprehensible thought in his mind echoing Junmyeon Junmyeon Junmyeonjunmyeonjunmyeonjunmyeon.
-
The second and last time Jongin ever saw Byun Baekhyun was on the rooftop of the institution he was raised up in along with the other experiments. He was nine at that time, wings almost developing, waiting for the final phase of growing feathers that he would soon realize would never happen.
The scientist didn’t notice him for a few moments at first, staring at the clouds in the horizon, wind blowing through his hair and sweeping it to the side. Jongin stood still against the stiff breeze, watching Byun Baekhyun sit down on the edge of the roof.
He shifted his position and accidently kicked a small stone. The sound caused the scientist to turn around in surprise, and when he saw Jongin, something darkened in his expression, slightly, subtly, but Jongin still noticed it.
“Excuse me…?” he began, letting the question hang in the air. Byun Baekhyun scrunched his expression, and suddenly, he seemed more like a child than a mysterious magician, a child about to cry, almost. It caught Jongin off guard.
“Monster,” he muttered, and thunder rumbled in the distance. The skies opened up and it began raining, drenching Jongin as he peered up at Byun Baekhyun underneath the bangs plastered to his forehead.
“Monster?”
“This is what I’ve done, isn’t it?” The scientist sighed and leaned forward slightly in the wind. It was storm season, wild and dark, just like when he had first appeared and awed the world with his claim that he could make humans fly.
“What have you done?”
Jongin blinked and missed the slip, the jump, the smile and closed eyes. When his vision cleared against the rain again, Byun Baekhyun was gone from the rooftop, only his coat left behind, waving in the wind like some flag of victory, or perhaps surrender.
They told Jongin and the rest of the experiments the next day that Byun Baekhyun had disappeared with the storm and a year later they drove him out for not being able to fly. No one claimed to know what had happened to the scientist, but Jongin never forgot how he had looked over the edge of the rooftop and saw the dark shape huddled on the ground, blood stains and rain mixing together on the pavement, washing away a life.
-
The abandoned institution looks the same as it was when Jongin left it years ago, despite the vines infesting every single wall, door, structure. He staggers up stairs and across floors, moving more from memory than sight, until he reaches the roof. The government will probably start looking for him in a while once they realize he hasn’t died in the alleyway. They’ll catch him and put him in quarantine, for questioning. For giving away all of Junmyeon’s secrets, Junmyeon’s life, Junmyeon’s love.
There was never a point in a revolution. Jongin stares out at the sky and the urge to smile bitterly twists at his lips. What point is there in saving the damned? Even if Junmyeon had succeeded, and Jongin managed to convince the others, what revolution would there be? They would never fly, and after all their fighting, after lives would be lost, there would only be a few left to enjoy the aftermath, if they even succeeded. They would die out, and merely serve as a blot of ink upon the pages of history, forgotten in a few decades or centuries.
Jongin walks over to the edge of the roof and looks down, like how he did years ago when Byun Baekhyun jumped over. He notices figures milling about below him and laughs quietly to himself. They’ve noticed he’s not dead, and they’ve probably found his trail. A few figures enter the building. It’s only a matter of time before they find him on the rooftop and catch him.
He wants to fly one last time. Junmyeon’s gone forever now, but Junmyeon was an angel who couldn’t fly either. Maybe they’ll be able to fly together towards the heavens later, or, as Jongin realizes with a smirk, maybe he’s going to hell and he’s never going to fly.
It’s a long way down from the roof to the ground. His knees are shaking, fingers trembling as he scoots closer to the edge until the tips of his toes are hanging in space. Footsteps echo behind him and voices sound. They’ve found him.
Junmyeon. He bends over slightly, staring down at the ground below him. “Yah, Byun Baekhyun!” The call echoes down the side of the building, into the wind, disappearing like the lost dreams, hopes, and wishes he’s never had.
He jumps, eyes closed, and for a moment before the end, he’s soaring through the air at last.
sukai for hanna (daexings) because i owe her chenlay therefore sukai = chenlay idek lol. forever love to helena (shanwens) for betaing!!
i wanted to deconstruct winged people because deconstruction is always fun hehe. so basically, in bio class, we were talking about changing genes and stuff and one of my classmates asked if it was possible to change the human genome so that people would have wings. and my bio teacher replied that it would be really difficult because you need the right combination of genes to grow them, and humans aren’t really meant to grow feathers or scales or whatever is needed on the wings. so i searched around online after i got home, and i got the idea for this fic. this is also somewhat based off of the maximum ride series. if people are going to try to give humans wings, they’re going to have to go through a lot of failures and trials before they get it right. so that’s how jongin comes in-he’s the failure of the experiment, a trial gone wrong. no one ever talks about them, so i thought it would be cool to write about in deconstructing the entire notion of winged humans. also, humans aren’t really structurally adapted to fly, so that’s why even the people who end up with proper wings cannot fly.
i only planned on killing jongin off in this fic but apparently only killing off one character when there are three main ones doesn’t work with me wow i really hate my brain sometimes i need to stop killing everyone why am i so obsessed with killing people this is not good uh. but yeah so i ended up killing baekhyun and junmyeon woot o/
this reminds me of as the smoke clears orz i need to stop writing so much protector!junmyeon i mean seriously first with sehun and now with jongin i might as well write sekai actually omg i really love sekai they are so adorable and hot adjlfjasdlfjsf /rambles
ilikedonuts
also exo’s comeback makes me cry like sm pls i have completely given up on you why are you making everyone crawl around on the floor and snarl at the screen what is this what happened to the schoolboy concept how does xoxo kisses and hugs match with wolves I DON’T UNDERSTAND SHRIEKS ANGRILY but now i can’t stop listening to the highlight medley oh my god the songs are so good!!!!!!!!!!! /flails