FANFIC: "Angels Fall": Ch. 2: "Choosing & Falling" (See List For Pairings)
Title: Angels Fall: Ch.2 Choosing & Falling
Pairings: SoulMates (JaejoongxYoochun; Hint/Suggested), (See Note)
Characters: Heechul (SuJu; Guest)
Writer: black_prophet (midsummer_slave)
Genre: SciFi/Fantasy, Angst
Length: Mini-Series
Rating: PG13 (Injury & Death, Language (Later) etc)
Warning: Character Injury & Suicide/Death (sorta), New Style for Lala?, Angels
Dedication: To any and all of my readers, wherever you are. This fic starts out dark, but hopefully will get much brighter. The future gets brighter, darlings, but you have to be around to see it! Without you, the world is less bright; my world is less bright. Don't give up, I love you.
A/N 1: So this fic really sorta starts out as ‘no pairings’ and may at some point widen to almost ‘all pairings’ in some way or another. (Even if it is just friendship and minor ‘crushing’, I’m trying to widen the scope of my fics a bit.) To start though, not really any specific pairings. You’ll see when it gets ‘real’. Ship away though, babes!
A/N 2: You probably already know that Lala does not do char-death, or you should by now, and if you don’t I’m telling you. I don’t do it, it makes me all kinds of uncomfortable. However, this fic happened in my head and I can’t get around it, so I hope you’ll bear with me. It is a temporary condition, that’s all I can say?
Disclaimer: I do not own any of DBSK, HoMin, JYJ or any other bands that may make cameo appearances. I never saw this happen, I don't claim this to be true because it is FAN FICTION and a product of my own mind. I own and ‘am’ the “L” in “XLS” which will probably visit here. I own the other two bitches too (X&S) but don’t tell them I told you, okay? I have no beta, forgive mistakes.
Previous Chapters: "Ch 1: Bleeding"
***
Jae glanced around the room, searching for anything that would help him. As an Angel he was a messenger; he had no ability to heal the man he held, a tragically damaged soul that was slipping closer to death with every second that passed. With a final weak gasp, Yoochun went still in Jaejoong’s arms, his soul flitting into the air.
The Angel stared blankly at the orb for a moment before gently resettling the body on the floor and vaulting over it to capture the orb in one hand. Tucking himself into a roll, he tumbled across the floor and came to a halt in a crouch with the precious object cradled to his chest. Jaejoong had only a moment to recall he refused to handle souls for a specific reason before Yoochun’s lifetime of memories poured over him.
**
He was a babe, blinking blearily at a too-bright light. Though he had no words for anything, he still understood. A warm presence lifted and cradled him close, and he was filled with a comforting rush of emotion.
*
He was a child helping his younger brother stand after a bully pushed them both down. “Yoohwan, are you ok?”
*
They were older -his brother and he- and playing a videogame with more competitive spirit than their mother approved of.
“Boys! Shut the game off and come set the table before your father comes home!” She summoned from the kitchen.
“Yes Mom!” They chorused, and Yoochun cheered as his car crossed the finish line first.
“I win!”
*
He was a teen now, moving through the halls of a new school with apprehension. America was so loud, so free, so foreign to his quietly traditional Korean upbringing. There was a sort of terror in this freedom, a hesitation to his every action.
*
He should want to kiss her. Yoochun knew he should want to kiss Ana, she was pretty and smart and one of his best friends. But boys and girls weren’t supposed to be friends, they were something more. They held hands and kissed and went on dates, and he should do the same thing.
He loved her like a sister, she was his next-to-favorite person after Yoohwan; he didn’t want to kiss her.
*
The boy in his gym class, the one with bright blue eyes, he was a different story. Michael, his name was, and to himself Yoochun could admit: Michael he wanted to kiss.
*
His father found out. He was going to be sent back to South Korea, to live with an Uncle that had always favored him. A good thing to, or his father probably would have beaten him to death. It was custom, even if they weren’t in their home country anymore. It didn’t matter if ‘that behavior’ was ‘okay’ in America. Yoochun wouldn’t be welcomed in the family again.
He was cast out. Cut off. Disinherited.
‘You will never be considered part of this family again. Men don’t love other men, Park Yoochun.’
Jaejoong shuddered as places and faces swept by, caught in the heart of a maelstrom. He had no hope for control or salvation, trapped in the soul’s unfolding story. The emotions washed over him and tossed him about like he was trapped in the sea, adrift from everything he’d ever known and caught in the grasp of something he could not see or understand.
Strength washed into these new memories. His name was Park Yoochun. At the age of twenty-two his wealthy Uncle passed away, leaving behind a substantial fortune for his beloved nephew. No family, but at least he had money to ensure his life was a comfortable one.
By the age of twenty-six, Yoochun had several musical degrees, but still no family to speak of. He refused to date the women who came sniffing around after his money or his approaching fame; they were of no interest to him.
By twenty-seven, he had an established pattern: drink, write music, sell music, socialize, drink, date, drink, fuck, drink.
He was twenty-nine now. His source of happiness was the striking and always-affectionate three-year-old Malamute he thought of as his son, and the piano he played nearly every sober moment of the day. There were days he played the beautiful instrument for hours without writing a thing down, sinking further into his depression.
There were flickering moments of crystal clarity, where the music in his soul poured out onto the keys and flowed over paper in carefully inked patterns… Moments he could almost see a flash of white-light out of the corner of his eye. He was grateful for those moments -they got him further than he expected- but at the bottom of a bottle they were no comfort. A kitchen knife found his aching veins and bit deep, drowning out the pain in his heart with a fresh-fire burn in his wrist.
He sank into darkness let himself fall away.
And then searing white light caught and held him.
It took a moment for the knowledge and memories to settle, and in the back of his mind Jaejoong marveled that he now knew how to do all sorts of things; from driving a car to cleaning an apartment and cooking. He tried to shake them off, making a soft noise of relief when the musician’s soul abruptly released him after a burst of pleasure from the memory of an old boyfriend and the thrill of writing a fantastic song. Jaejoong shook his head, dispelling the faint fog of the memories and swaying where he knelt.
“You cannot die.” He snarled in a softly-fierce tone. “You cannot, Yoochun. Let me save you, please let me save you… If only because, perhaps, then you can save me.”
**
The orb glowed with a weak sort of fury as Jaejoong faced the body that had once housed it; the soft light filled with outrage at being caught and held. Jaejoong ignored the ire, letting it wash over him like an unfamiliar wind. Emotions were not his to be felt, but this close to the soul, his mind grasped for them and turned them over like strange gems found in an otherwise-familiar landscape.
He knew that contact with this human was changing him, but Jaejoong could not bring himself to care. Yoochun’s memories and emotions washed through him, bringing knowledge of how much life on earth could hurt. But there were also tantalizing glimpses of joy, fierce pleasure, subtle contentment… And the Angel wanted to know more of those things.
At some point this life had become precious to him, and he had no choice but to do all in his power to save it. If he worked quickly, perhaps he could do enough to give Yoochun a second chance and himself a first. He wasn’t sure it would work, but it was the only option he had.
The decision was easier to make than he had thought it would be, a corner of his mind noted. Jaejoong gave no words to the feeling, simply admitted to himself that he would strip what remained of his divinity. He would forgo his existence as an Angel, a subtle rejection of all he had ever known. It is better this way. I can’t do this anymore… I’m sorry, please understand.’
The answer came quicker than he expected, in the form of his least favorite messenger.
“Jaejoong, you can’t be serious right now.” Heechul murmured in soft tones of scandalized disbelief.
Jaejoong cast the redhead a quick look over his shoulder, confirming what his ears already told him. A striking Angel stood in one corner of the room, his clothing and wings still flawless white in the midst of the bloody scene. Barefoot and brightly-glowing, the man tossed his head, the flow of his bright-crimson hair spilling back over his shoulders. It was oddly bright against his wings, somehow reminding Jaejoong of the blood on the floor and all around him.
With a low sound of annoyance, Jaejoong turned his back on the new arrival. Heechul was his least-favorite Angel, a superior sort of soul that bordered on haughty arrogance. If Angels could be arrogant.
“Don’t turn your back to me. Do you hear a word I’m saying? Do you have any idea what you’re doing right now? Do you really intend to give up all you are?” Heechul sniffed, shaking his head. “For a suicide? It’s utterly-”
“Why do you care?” Jaejoong cut in sharply, focusing on carefully arranging the body before him.
The orb he kept cradled tight to his chest, his free hand straying from Yoochun’s skin for a moment to pet Harang reassuringly when he growled. That told him Heechul was pacing closer, though it was a slow progress, the other Angel wouldn’t want to step in the bright-red blood that sat like a still ocean.
“There’s no love lost between us.” Heechul agreed, apparently switching tactics. “But you’re one of the High Angels.”
“And now I’ll be nothing, and you can continue to climb rank like you want.” Jaejoong bit back. If he did this right, this shunning of Heaven, he could channel his grace into the wounded man he held… And maybe, maybe it would be enough to save this soul he would give everything to protect.
“I can climb rank with you still in Heaven, don’t insult me.” Heechul sniffed. “Are you afraid of me? Is that why you’re using this worthless-one as an excuse to leave?”
“Angels feel no fear.” With a deep breath, Jaejoong reached inside himself, pulling at the glow of white-golden light that flowed through him.
With another deep breath he directed that light into the body he cradled, hope racing through him as the bone-white flesh slowly colored. The wounds that gaped in Yoochun’s white arms healed slightly, enough to sustain him if the medics could respond quickly. It wasn’t a real healing, not enough to save his life, but for an Angel to sacrifice all he was to preserve life… Well, Jaejoong hoped it would be enough.
Glancing around the room in search of something that would help him contact humans, Jaejoong’s eye landed on the restlessly-pacing Malamute. He had seen Yoochun order the dog to fetch various objects, and suddenly it seemed like a welcome gift. “Harang, phone!”
Distracted from his restless circles by the abrupt order, Harang ignored Heechul and gave Jaejoong a curious look. It lasted only a moment, and then the obedient animal retrieved a slim black device from the bedside table and carried it back to his master’s side. Yoochun’s cell-phone.
“Good boy.” Jaejoong praised -surprised it had worked- and accepted the device. Flipping it open, he took a moment to thank his excessive human-watching ways, because he was willing to bet most Angels didn’t know how to use a phone much less what number to dial in an emergency.
“Jaejoong.” Heechul hissed again, stepping closer. “Enough of this. Release the soul, and come back to Heaven. Your grace is diminished, but most won’t know, and maybe if you stop this now it will revert to you. I won’t tell anyone what you almost did, and things can go back to normal.”
“What is normal, Heechul?” Jae challenged, his thumb hesitating over the ‘call’ button as he cast a pitying glance at the immortal. “Obeying orders? I think I would rather be human, to take my chances making my own destiny. You can tell them all I said that, if you want.”
“And what else do I tell them?” Heechul snapped. “That I let you throw everything away for a suicide? A broken soul? It’s not worth it. You know where he should go.”
“He is worth it.” Jaejoong argued fiercely. “And that is why I’m saving him, so I can have a chance to prove it to him too. Go away, Heechul, go back to Heaven. The human paramedics will be here soon, and there will be nothing left for you to salvage of me. I renounce it all.”
“You can’t.” Horrified and wide-eyed, Heechul took a step back as he watched the constant-glow of Heaven begin to fall away from his former fellow-Angel. While the sharing was a softening, this was a rapid rush. “You’re not serious…”
Jaejoong watched the light bleed away from his skin, until nothing but a milky-shade of human flesh remained. No more burning white light, no more Heaven’s grace. He was mortal, his dark eyes still holding their stretch of infinity, but never again would he touch it. He didn’t know what would become of his wings, but he didn’t care. “I am, Heechul. And I think even you should be able to see that, now.”
The Angel backed away, shaking his head. “I can’t understand it, why would you waste it all on something like this?”
Temper suddenly washed over Jaejoong, a fierce-rush of icy rage that made his black eyes spark when he threw a glare at the glowing figure. “Enough, Heechul, enough.”
“I’ll go, but I want to know why!”
Jaejoong opened his mouth and true-speaking flew from him, one gift Angels used rarely for humans and never on their brethren. But anger burned in his gut and the words flew like blades from his lips. “Today even if I told you, you wouldn’t understand. One day you will feel what I feel, and you will understand, and you will fall. Perhaps sometime after that day you will seek me out and apologize, and tell me you understand. For now I can only pity you, that you are so close-minded and cold. Rest assured, Heechul, the grace you hold now will not last you; however, if you are brave enough for it, you will find something better here on earth.”
Heechul recoiled, gaping as the truth of the words rang in the air with a subtle hint of silver bells. “Jaejoong-”
“Let the true-speaking end this, Heechul.” Jaejoong replied softly, turning his back to the Angel and leaning over the prone form. “Go, and let me save my fate. I will argue with you another day, perhaps.”
*
“Hello, this is emergency dispatch services. What is your emergency?” The female dispatcher murmured briskly into the phone.
“H-hello. My name is Jaejoong and I, I just walked in to find my friend in a pool of his own blood. He, he cut his wrists, and he’s dying.” He swallowed. “I, I’m putting pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding, but he’s lost a lot of blood already.”
“Jaejoong-sshi? Stay on the line with me, I’m pulling up your location now and I’ll dispatch emergency technicians directly.”
“T-thank you…”
“Someone will be there shortly, Jaejoong; just hold on.”
“Of course.” He murmured, swallowing his fear. ‘Hold on, Yoochun…’
*
***
Next Chapter: "Ch 3: Waiting & Cleaning & Waiting Some More"
I return to you with more "Angels Fall"! Hopefully you're enjoying this new, productive Lala!
Pairings: SoulMates (JaejoongxYoochun; Hint/Suggested), (See Note)
Characters: Heechul (SuJu; Guest)
Writer: black_prophet (midsummer_slave)
Genre: SciFi/Fantasy, Angst
Length: Mini-Series
Rating: PG13 (Injury & Death, Language (Later) etc)
Warning: Character Injury & Suicide/Death (sorta), New Style for Lala?, Angels
Dedication: To any and all of my readers, wherever you are. This fic starts out dark, but hopefully will get much brighter. The future gets brighter, darlings, but you have to be around to see it! Without you, the world is less bright; my world is less bright. Don't give up, I love you.
A/N 1: So this fic really sorta starts out as ‘no pairings’ and may at some point widen to almost ‘all pairings’ in some way or another. (Even if it is just friendship and minor ‘crushing’, I’m trying to widen the scope of my fics a bit.) To start though, not really any specific pairings. You’ll see when it gets ‘real’. Ship away though, babes!
A/N 2: You probably already know that Lala does not do char-death, or you should by now, and if you don’t I’m telling you. I don’t do it, it makes me all kinds of uncomfortable. However, this fic happened in my head and I can’t get around it, so I hope you’ll bear with me. It is a temporary condition, that’s all I can say?
Disclaimer: I do not own any of DBSK, HoMin, JYJ or any other bands that may make cameo appearances. I never saw this happen, I don't claim this to be true because it is FAN FICTION and a product of my own mind. I own and ‘am’ the “L” in “XLS” which will probably visit here. I own the other two bitches too (X&S) but don’t tell them I told you, okay? I have no beta, forgive mistakes.
Previous Chapters: "Ch 1: Bleeding"
***
Jae glanced around the room, searching for anything that would help him. As an Angel he was a messenger; he had no ability to heal the man he held, a tragically damaged soul that was slipping closer to death with every second that passed. With a final weak gasp, Yoochun went still in Jaejoong’s arms, his soul flitting into the air.
The Angel stared blankly at the orb for a moment before gently resettling the body on the floor and vaulting over it to capture the orb in one hand. Tucking himself into a roll, he tumbled across the floor and came to a halt in a crouch with the precious object cradled to his chest. Jaejoong had only a moment to recall he refused to handle souls for a specific reason before Yoochun’s lifetime of memories poured over him.
**
He was a babe, blinking blearily at a too-bright light. Though he had no words for anything, he still understood. A warm presence lifted and cradled him close, and he was filled with a comforting rush of emotion.
*
He was a child helping his younger brother stand after a bully pushed them both down. “Yoohwan, are you ok?”
*
They were older -his brother and he- and playing a videogame with more competitive spirit than their mother approved of.
“Boys! Shut the game off and come set the table before your father comes home!” She summoned from the kitchen.
“Yes Mom!” They chorused, and Yoochun cheered as his car crossed the finish line first.
“I win!”
*
He was a teen now, moving through the halls of a new school with apprehension. America was so loud, so free, so foreign to his quietly traditional Korean upbringing. There was a sort of terror in this freedom, a hesitation to his every action.
*
He should want to kiss her. Yoochun knew he should want to kiss Ana, she was pretty and smart and one of his best friends. But boys and girls weren’t supposed to be friends, they were something more. They held hands and kissed and went on dates, and he should do the same thing.
He loved her like a sister, she was his next-to-favorite person after Yoohwan; he didn’t want to kiss her.
*
The boy in his gym class, the one with bright blue eyes, he was a different story. Michael, his name was, and to himself Yoochun could admit: Michael he wanted to kiss.
*
His father found out. He was going to be sent back to South Korea, to live with an Uncle that had always favored him. A good thing to, or his father probably would have beaten him to death. It was custom, even if they weren’t in their home country anymore. It didn’t matter if ‘that behavior’ was ‘okay’ in America. Yoochun wouldn’t be welcomed in the family again.
He was cast out. Cut off. Disinherited.
‘You will never be considered part of this family again. Men don’t love other men, Park Yoochun.’
Jaejoong shuddered as places and faces swept by, caught in the heart of a maelstrom. He had no hope for control or salvation, trapped in the soul’s unfolding story. The emotions washed over him and tossed him about like he was trapped in the sea, adrift from everything he’d ever known and caught in the grasp of something he could not see or understand.
Strength washed into these new memories. His name was Park Yoochun. At the age of twenty-two his wealthy Uncle passed away, leaving behind a substantial fortune for his beloved nephew. No family, but at least he had money to ensure his life was a comfortable one.
By the age of twenty-six, Yoochun had several musical degrees, but still no family to speak of. He refused to date the women who came sniffing around after his money or his approaching fame; they were of no interest to him.
By twenty-seven, he had an established pattern: drink, write music, sell music, socialize, drink, date, drink, fuck, drink.
He was twenty-nine now. His source of happiness was the striking and always-affectionate three-year-old Malamute he thought of as his son, and the piano he played nearly every sober moment of the day. There were days he played the beautiful instrument for hours without writing a thing down, sinking further into his depression.
There were flickering moments of crystal clarity, where the music in his soul poured out onto the keys and flowed over paper in carefully inked patterns… Moments he could almost see a flash of white-light out of the corner of his eye. He was grateful for those moments -they got him further than he expected- but at the bottom of a bottle they were no comfort. A kitchen knife found his aching veins and bit deep, drowning out the pain in his heart with a fresh-fire burn in his wrist.
He sank into darkness let himself fall away.
And then searing white light caught and held him.
It took a moment for the knowledge and memories to settle, and in the back of his mind Jaejoong marveled that he now knew how to do all sorts of things; from driving a car to cleaning an apartment and cooking. He tried to shake them off, making a soft noise of relief when the musician’s soul abruptly released him after a burst of pleasure from the memory of an old boyfriend and the thrill of writing a fantastic song. Jaejoong shook his head, dispelling the faint fog of the memories and swaying where he knelt.
“You cannot die.” He snarled in a softly-fierce tone. “You cannot, Yoochun. Let me save you, please let me save you… If only because, perhaps, then you can save me.”
**
The orb glowed with a weak sort of fury as Jaejoong faced the body that had once housed it; the soft light filled with outrage at being caught and held. Jaejoong ignored the ire, letting it wash over him like an unfamiliar wind. Emotions were not his to be felt, but this close to the soul, his mind grasped for them and turned them over like strange gems found in an otherwise-familiar landscape.
He knew that contact with this human was changing him, but Jaejoong could not bring himself to care. Yoochun’s memories and emotions washed through him, bringing knowledge of how much life on earth could hurt. But there were also tantalizing glimpses of joy, fierce pleasure, subtle contentment… And the Angel wanted to know more of those things.
At some point this life had become precious to him, and he had no choice but to do all in his power to save it. If he worked quickly, perhaps he could do enough to give Yoochun a second chance and himself a first. He wasn’t sure it would work, but it was the only option he had.
The decision was easier to make than he had thought it would be, a corner of his mind noted. Jaejoong gave no words to the feeling, simply admitted to himself that he would strip what remained of his divinity. He would forgo his existence as an Angel, a subtle rejection of all he had ever known. It is better this way. I can’t do this anymore… I’m sorry, please understand.’
The answer came quicker than he expected, in the form of his least favorite messenger.
“Jaejoong, you can’t be serious right now.” Heechul murmured in soft tones of scandalized disbelief.
Jaejoong cast the redhead a quick look over his shoulder, confirming what his ears already told him. A striking Angel stood in one corner of the room, his clothing and wings still flawless white in the midst of the bloody scene. Barefoot and brightly-glowing, the man tossed his head, the flow of his bright-crimson hair spilling back over his shoulders. It was oddly bright against his wings, somehow reminding Jaejoong of the blood on the floor and all around him.
With a low sound of annoyance, Jaejoong turned his back on the new arrival. Heechul was his least-favorite Angel, a superior sort of soul that bordered on haughty arrogance. If Angels could be arrogant.
“Don’t turn your back to me. Do you hear a word I’m saying? Do you have any idea what you’re doing right now? Do you really intend to give up all you are?” Heechul sniffed, shaking his head. “For a suicide? It’s utterly-”
“Why do you care?” Jaejoong cut in sharply, focusing on carefully arranging the body before him.
The orb he kept cradled tight to his chest, his free hand straying from Yoochun’s skin for a moment to pet Harang reassuringly when he growled. That told him Heechul was pacing closer, though it was a slow progress, the other Angel wouldn’t want to step in the bright-red blood that sat like a still ocean.
“There’s no love lost between us.” Heechul agreed, apparently switching tactics. “But you’re one of the High Angels.”
“And now I’ll be nothing, and you can continue to climb rank like you want.” Jaejoong bit back. If he did this right, this shunning of Heaven, he could channel his grace into the wounded man he held… And maybe, maybe it would be enough to save this soul he would give everything to protect.
“I can climb rank with you still in Heaven, don’t insult me.” Heechul sniffed. “Are you afraid of me? Is that why you’re using this worthless-one as an excuse to leave?”
“Angels feel no fear.” With a deep breath, Jaejoong reached inside himself, pulling at the glow of white-golden light that flowed through him.
With another deep breath he directed that light into the body he cradled, hope racing through him as the bone-white flesh slowly colored. The wounds that gaped in Yoochun’s white arms healed slightly, enough to sustain him if the medics could respond quickly. It wasn’t a real healing, not enough to save his life, but for an Angel to sacrifice all he was to preserve life… Well, Jaejoong hoped it would be enough.
Glancing around the room in search of something that would help him contact humans, Jaejoong’s eye landed on the restlessly-pacing Malamute. He had seen Yoochun order the dog to fetch various objects, and suddenly it seemed like a welcome gift. “Harang, phone!”
Distracted from his restless circles by the abrupt order, Harang ignored Heechul and gave Jaejoong a curious look. It lasted only a moment, and then the obedient animal retrieved a slim black device from the bedside table and carried it back to his master’s side. Yoochun’s cell-phone.
“Good boy.” Jaejoong praised -surprised it had worked- and accepted the device. Flipping it open, he took a moment to thank his excessive human-watching ways, because he was willing to bet most Angels didn’t know how to use a phone much less what number to dial in an emergency.
“Jaejoong.” Heechul hissed again, stepping closer. “Enough of this. Release the soul, and come back to Heaven. Your grace is diminished, but most won’t know, and maybe if you stop this now it will revert to you. I won’t tell anyone what you almost did, and things can go back to normal.”
“What is normal, Heechul?” Jae challenged, his thumb hesitating over the ‘call’ button as he cast a pitying glance at the immortal. “Obeying orders? I think I would rather be human, to take my chances making my own destiny. You can tell them all I said that, if you want.”
“And what else do I tell them?” Heechul snapped. “That I let you throw everything away for a suicide? A broken soul? It’s not worth it. You know where he should go.”
“He is worth it.” Jaejoong argued fiercely. “And that is why I’m saving him, so I can have a chance to prove it to him too. Go away, Heechul, go back to Heaven. The human paramedics will be here soon, and there will be nothing left for you to salvage of me. I renounce it all.”
“You can’t.” Horrified and wide-eyed, Heechul took a step back as he watched the constant-glow of Heaven begin to fall away from his former fellow-Angel. While the sharing was a softening, this was a rapid rush. “You’re not serious…”
Jaejoong watched the light bleed away from his skin, until nothing but a milky-shade of human flesh remained. No more burning white light, no more Heaven’s grace. He was mortal, his dark eyes still holding their stretch of infinity, but never again would he touch it. He didn’t know what would become of his wings, but he didn’t care. “I am, Heechul. And I think even you should be able to see that, now.”
The Angel backed away, shaking his head. “I can’t understand it, why would you waste it all on something like this?”
Temper suddenly washed over Jaejoong, a fierce-rush of icy rage that made his black eyes spark when he threw a glare at the glowing figure. “Enough, Heechul, enough.”
“I’ll go, but I want to know why!”
Jaejoong opened his mouth and true-speaking flew from him, one gift Angels used rarely for humans and never on their brethren. But anger burned in his gut and the words flew like blades from his lips. “Today even if I told you, you wouldn’t understand. One day you will feel what I feel, and you will understand, and you will fall. Perhaps sometime after that day you will seek me out and apologize, and tell me you understand. For now I can only pity you, that you are so close-minded and cold. Rest assured, Heechul, the grace you hold now will not last you; however, if you are brave enough for it, you will find something better here on earth.”
Heechul recoiled, gaping as the truth of the words rang in the air with a subtle hint of silver bells. “Jaejoong-”
“Let the true-speaking end this, Heechul.” Jaejoong replied softly, turning his back to the Angel and leaning over the prone form. “Go, and let me save my fate. I will argue with you another day, perhaps.”
*
“Hello, this is emergency dispatch services. What is your emergency?” The female dispatcher murmured briskly into the phone.
“H-hello. My name is Jaejoong and I, I just walked in to find my friend in a pool of his own blood. He, he cut his wrists, and he’s dying.” He swallowed. “I, I’m putting pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding, but he’s lost a lot of blood already.”
“Jaejoong-sshi? Stay on the line with me, I’m pulling up your location now and I’ll dispatch emergency technicians directly.”
“T-thank you…”
“Someone will be there shortly, Jaejoong; just hold on.”
“Of course.” He murmured, swallowing his fear. ‘Hold on, Yoochun…’
*
***
Next Chapter: "Ch 3: Waiting & Cleaning & Waiting Some More"
I return to you with more "Angels Fall"! Hopefully you're enjoying this new, productive Lala!