Ascension (II)
Author: kpopfanfictrash
Pairing: You / Jongdae / Baekhyun
Rating: R (violence)
Word Count: 5,699
Summary: The weight of humanity rests on Y/N’s shoulders. In Ascension, enemies must come together, lines must be drawn and the question of good and evil itself must be raised. As Y/N’s power strengthens and more players reveal themselves, the only thing obvious is that nothing in this world is black and white. (Book 2, sequel to Guardian)
Previous to Ascension: Guardian
His hand is warm, calloused in yours. You look down at his fingers, entwined in your own. It’s not the same passionate, burning flame you felt with Jongdae. It’s a steadier burn, embers.
“Jongdae said he’d help with your power?” you ask, lifting your gaze.
Baekhyun’s mouth twists to a smile. “That’s what he said,” he nods.
“Well,” you exhale, allowing the stone to fall into the water. “Then we’d better get started.”
“I think he’s defective.”
Baekhyun scowls, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. His muscles bunch beneath his shirt, straining against the hold Yixing has around his neck. “Funny, I was about to say the same thing about your di–”
“O-kay!” Jongin interjects, stepping forward. “There’s no need for trash talk, we’re all on the same team.”
Yixing glances sideways, grunting, “Yeah, well – I don’t trust him.”
Baekhyun glowers, twisting as much as he can. He uses Yixing’s momentary distraction to gain the upper hand, shoving his elbow into the Nephilim’s stomach and kneeing him once the groin, shoulder flipping him roughly to the ground. Baekhyun drops his leg onto Yixing’s chest, breathing heavily. “Defective still?” he teases, eyes dark with mischief.
Yixing hisses, tensing below him on the ground. He stares at the Altor, unmoving – until Baekhyun yelps in pain, falling backwards.
“Yixing,” Jongin sighs. He walks over to Baekhyun and sticks out a hand. “This is hand-to-hand combat only – no Nephilim powers.”
Glowering, Yixing pushes himself to his elbows. “Yeah, well – that’s unrealistic. You think Noah will take one look at him and go – whoops! My bad, I didn’t realize you were a human, lacking in our angelic powers. Let me just place Death aside for a moment – there we go, good – and now, let’s box.”
“You done?” Jongin mutters, air shimmering from his hands. He stares in concentration at the skin, easing burns from Baekhyun’s palms.
Baekhyun hisses, biting down on his lip. “This isn’t supposed to be realistic,” he mutters, refusing to look at Yixing. “This is supposed to be you, figuring out what powers I have.”
“Right,” Yixing nods, pushing himself higher. “And now we know you’re not fireproof. You’re welcome.”
Unable to stay quiet, you step onto the path. “Brilliant,” you roll both eyes. “Truly, Yixing – top notch.”
All three heads turn. When he makes eye contact with you, Baekhyun breaks out in a grin. “Y/N,” he waves. “Did you see me flip the human torch on his ass?”
When you wince, Yixing grunts. “What did you call me, half-breed?”
Baekhyun arches a brow, thoroughly unimpressed. “A human torch. A comic book character, though admittedly, not a very useful one.”
“You little,” Yixing seethes, fireball snapping into place.
Baekhyun grins, ducking – as the fireball freezes harmlessly in mid-air, a result of your powers. “Cool,” Baekhyun breathes, from where he’s precariously bent towards the ground.
Sighing, you step into the clearing. “Yixing,” you scold.
The Nephilim frowns, crossing both arms. “There’s plenty more where that came from,” he deadpans, another fireball flaring into place about him. “You can’t freeze them all, Y/N.”
“No more powers,” you grind out. “I mean it!”
Tightening his jaw, Yixing extinguishes his weapon. “Baekhyun started it, he –”
“We’re trying to grow our numbers,” you interrupt, prodding the frozen flame. “Not kill the few that we have.”
It’s chilled, hard to your touch – something which makes sense, given the circumstances. Fire is hot because of how quickly its molecules vibrate. If they’re still, held in your power, it makes sense they’d cease to burn. “It would be wrong,” you continue, arching a brow, “to dwindle our already existing resources by burning them.”
Yixing makes a noise of dismissal. “Not burn, just toast. Lightly.”
The corner of your mouth twitches. You know this is serious, know things are life or death – but Baekhyun and Yixing are just so similar, sometimes. Everyone else can see it but them, each declaring the other to be the most obnoxious individual they’ve ever had the misfortune of coming across.
“Yixing,” Jongdae strides into the clearing, breaking up the moment. “I suggest you take five.”
Heart slowing, you turn to look at him. Jongdae is dressed entirely in black, hair pushed back from his face with his sweatband. While walking, Jongdae tightens the guards on his forearms and when he looks up at you, he comes to a quick stop in the clearing.
Baekhyun hesitates, lowering his hands. Fingers flexing, he checks to make sure the skin has healed before ambling forward.
Jongin turns to Baekhyun, surveying his palms. “You’re good to go,” he declares, nodding.
“Right.” Baekhyun stops, at a loss for what to say. “Well, what now?”
Staring at him and Jongdae, your stomach starts to twist. The past few days have strangely quiet. Both Baekhyun and Jongdae begrudgingly acknowledge the others’ intentions, while somehow managing to maintain their distaste. So far, they’ve both overlooked their feelings and concentrated on the greater task at hand but beneath this, lies a vein of distrust. The elephant in the room is obvious, even though no one speaks it. You love them both, and they love you.
Perhaps it’s this which binds them together, tearing them apart at the same time. You know each one is attempting to be good, each one is trying to be noble – for your sake. Such things can’t be ignored forever though, and you know that one day this will all come to a head. One day it will implode and when it does, you don’t know who will walk away.
Coughing delicately into his hand, Baekhyun wipes his mouth. “I’m not sure what I’m doing here,” he admits, exhaling.
Jongdae tilts his head. “What you’re doing,” he states. “Is discovering what you are. I’ve known your kind for some millennia and no two have ever been the same. You need to be tested, need to be pushed to determine what talents you hold.”
Baekhyun considers this. “You’ve known my kind?”
Jongdae nods, the motion shallow. “Yes.”
“What were they called,” Baekhyun ventures. His voice sounds flippant, but you know better. Baekhyun has never known his real family, to know a part of him – it means something, more than he lets on. “My kind,” Baekhyun repeats, looking down. “Humans, with Nephilim blood in them.”
Jongdae softens. “Many things,” he admits. “Half-bloods, changelings, halflings, demi-Neph. In kinder moments, your kind were called heroes.”
Baekhyun’s eyes widen, just for a moment. “Past tense?”
Jongdae nods. “Heroes are made, not born. It is only through a careful process of blood transfusion that a human can hope to retain angelic characteristics of my people. Even so, it’s only possible if said transfusions occur at a young age. Were you to attempt it with someone like say, Yixing,” Jongdae nods at the Nephilim, who looks slightly offended, “they’d find themselves powerful, but only for a short time. Eventually, the angelic blood wouldn’t replenish. They’d regenerate as human; tissue and muscle shrinking back to what it was.”
“I see.” Baekhyun pauses, thinking of how to phrase his next question. “Did they ever… have powers, themselves? These heroes?”
His question is innocent, but you can see the way his eyes light up. You see Baekhyun’s desire to bend, shape and change the world. It makes your heart ache – you ache, looking at Baekhyun and picturing him as a child, strapped to some dank, cold table. Infused with blood, over and over, forced to undergo terrible torture – all to become what Jongdae calls a hero.
Baekhyun looks at the ground.
“Occasionally,” Jongdae allows. “Such things were rare, but they happened. More often, heroes exhibit enhanced human characteristics – somewhat like Nephilim. They’d have increased strength, speed, healing,” Jongdae ticks these off on his fingers. “Which brings us back to today’s lesson. You need motivation, to determine what your powers are.”
Baekhyun huffs, wiping his brow. “I don’t understand. What –”
You gasp, when the world flips upside down.
Darkness snakes around your waist, flinging you higher to slam against a pine. You struggle for a moment, vision spinning while breath is expelled from your lungs. Far below, you hear the sounds of distant yelling.
Jongdae. Your eyes open, narrowing on your guardian. Jongdae looks up at you, a slight smirk to his lips while his shadows coil, cutting into your flesh. On his right, Jongdae is also battling Baekhyun, who, silencer gone, is forced to fight with only strength against a fallen angel.
Breath catching, you strain against the bonds as, reaching forward, you claw at the night. Teleport – you can teleport. Scrambling for power, you come to a shuddering, shaking halt because the moment your mind touches your energy, your body shies away. Your thoughts recoil, mind flickering in pain.
You need to act, need to decide – you need to do something now, but all you can see is the man. The one who was in the wrong place, at the wrong time. He stood between you and Baekhyun, so you killed him. You barely even hesitated before his blood stained your hands. Choking, you retreat further into yourself. Slamming your head against bark, you shutter your eyes, unable to move even an inch.
The thoughts feel tainted, wrong and as Jongdae’s power tightens around your torso – you welcome the pain. Eyes shut, you drown in the sorrow, in his despair as find comfort in the madness. You let this swallow you, let yourself fall into it, until somewhere below – there comes a strange, sudden light.
The air rings.
This is your first thought, when you open your eyes. It doesn’t happen gracefully, like in movies. One eye wrenches open, then the other and you squint blearily up at heads above you. Past that, there’s sky and past that, loose swirls of white. Drifting clouds and scraggly pines before Yixing and Jongin come into focus, swimming above you.
You’re on your back, head down in the dirt. While you struggle to breathe, pushing yourself up on your elbows – you frown at the large clearing before you. Baekhyun stands back from the others, staring at his hands as though transfixed by the sight. His chest rises and falls, faster than usual, and Jongdae stands between the two of you two. His hands are outstretched, expression uncertain about to look, where to go.
In an astonishing act, Yixing reaches out a hand. You stare at this for a moment, before letting him pull you to your feet. “Are you okay?” he asks, scanning your body and when you nod, he nods and steps off to the side.
You look beyond him, to where Jongdae and Baekhyun are still staring at one another.
Surprisingly, Jongin is the one who speaks first. “What,” he breathes, eyes wide, “was that?”
For the first time, you wonder what Jongin was like as an angel. Before he fell, of course, back when he was an angel of healing and grace. You’ve thought about this in passing, but never actually pictured it. Now, though, you see it. Jongin’s stride is long, face drawn and composed. He commands quiet authority, absolute strength in his word. Jongin looks sternly from one man to the next, waiting for speech.
“Explain,” he demands, hands folded quietly over his front.
Baekhyun’s lower lip trembles. “I,” he falters, taking a half-step towards you. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Light,” Jongdae responds, strangely quiet. “He used Light.”
“Junmyeon,” Jongin breathes – then frowns. “Impossible. Junmyeon is fallen – he cannot sire Nephilim. His blood cannot be that which runs through Baekhyun’s veins.”
Jongdae lifts a shoulder, allowing it to fall. They continue to stare at one another, remembering things long forgotten. Still dazed by your fall, you roll your neck in a circle. “The Angel of Truth?” you muse, though you freeze when Jongin looks sharply your way.
“Where did you hear that?” he demands, turning to Jongdae. “Who told you Junmyeon’s name, his purpose – you, Jongdae?” His gaze moves over your guardian, voice laced with worry – or maybe, fear. “Why would you do this, put another Guardian at risk?”
“I didn’t tell her,” Jongdae fires back, closing his eyes. “I – she’s had dreams. I don’t know why, don’t know how – but she dreamt of of the battle.”
Jongin’s eyes widen. “Impossible.”
“And yet,” Jongdae counters, allowing his words to sink in.
When you clear your throat, it brings their attention to you. “Will someone please explain to me what’s going on?” you sigh, dusting your palms on your jeans. “I’m sick of the riddles and games.”
“For once, I agree with her,” Yixing pipes, leaning against a tree. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Rather than answer, Jongdae frowns. “Baekhyun used angelic power,” he admits. “He used the Light, the Truth – whatever you wish to call it. When he blinded me, his Light weakened my shadows.”
Baekhyun stares at his hands, like they’re no longer his. “I – I don’t understand what I did,” he breathes, voice soft. “I’ve never done anything like that before. I’ve never had any sort of power before. I’ve used silencers, I,” he gasps, gaze darting up. “It wasn’t me. Can’t have been. Maybe Y/N,” he hesitates, trailing off as he remembers.
You couldn’t have been the culprit, since you froze. Everyone seems to remember this at once, turning to look at you. They remember you choking, failing to fight back. Cheeks turning red, you stubbornly stare back. “I don’t want to talk about it,” you mutter stiffly.
Jongdae clears his throat, changing the subject. “When I first met Y/N,” he allows. “Do you know what she said?”
Baekhyun at the sky. “Oddly, I don’t.”
Jongdae ignores this, continuing, “She said, ‘Why now? I’m hardly prime protagonist age.’”
Baekhyun’s upper lip quirks, despite himself. “What age, exactly, is prime protagonist age?”
“Who knows?” Jongdae answers, shrugging. “That’s what I asked her.”
“Listen,” you interrupt, crossing your arms. “You all know the age I’m talking about. It’s the young adult novel heroine discovering her powers, probably in the halls of her high school. She falls irrevocably in love with some dreamy sixteen-year-old guy, who turns out to be actually one thousand. That’s prime protagonist age. Me, I’m in my early twenties. Old, tired, unaccustomed to change.”
Jongdae arches a brow. “If it makes you feel better, I’m at least four thousand years old. Not just one.”
Sucking in your breath, you pause. You hadn’t quantified that fact before – then you notice Baekhyun, glowering from across the circle.
“And I’m twenty-four,” Baekhyun shoots back. “With all the vitality of a twenty-four year old,” he waves his hand below the belt. “Can we continue to the part where you have a point?”
Yixing begins to laugh. “Is it just me, or is he getting funnier?”
Jongdae shoots them both a death glare. “The point,” he declares. “Is that I’ll tell you the same thing I told Y/N. The age your powers manifest has nothing to do with your human age. It’s some factor of maturity, both emotional and mental. Call it angelic destiny, if you wish. You,” his gaze flicks Baekhyun up and down, “have reached some – stunted – form of growth.”
“Ah,” Baekhyun nods. “Thanks. That was almost a compliment.”
“He understands Jongdae so well,” Yixing stage-whispers to Jongin. “It took me years to understand when Jongdae says he hates you – it’s really a sign of his love.”
Jongin snorts, turning this into a cough when Jongdae looks at him.
“So,” Baekhyun tilts his head to one side, ignoring this. “Does this mean I have powers, too?”
Jongdae surveys him, then nods. “It would appear so.”
“Excellent,” Yixing crows, stepping forward. Fire crackles to life in the palm of his hand. “Let’s go for round two. Nephilim versus halfling!”
Baekhyun’s eyes widen, as he stumbles back – and Jongdae holds up his hands. “I think,” your guardian hesitates. “That’s enough for today. We’ll pick up tomorrow, when everyone has rested. Jongin,” he nods. “Would you check Yixing and Baekhyun for injuries at the house?”
Jongin nods, turning to start walking away. Baekhyun glances over his shoulder while leaving. He clearly wants to talk to you, discuss your momentary paralysis – which is why you avert your gaze and look down at the ground. You avoid his questions, since they’re ones you’re not ready to answer.
Surprisingly, Yixing follows them. As though sensing he’s no longer needed, he turns to follow Jongin. “Hey,” he calls, breaking out in a jog. “Baekhyun! I have a bulb in my room which burnt out last night. Do you think you could sleep with me, as some sort of nightlight?”
They’re too far away to overhear Baekhyun’s retort, but you see the rude hand gesture he makes. His words are lost to the breeze, following their forms with your gaze. Once they’re a suitable distance away, you move to follow – only to have Jongdae lay his hand over your wrist.
“Y/N.”
His voice is stern and your breath stills in response. “I don’t want to talk,” you mutter, tugging free.
Jongdae teleports to stop you, mid-stride. “You need to talk to me,” he instructs, tilting his head. “This isn’t something you can fix by ignoring it.”
A laugh escapes before you can stop yourself. “Ironic, coming from you.”
Jongdae presses his lips tightly together. “I know you’re mad at me.”
This ticks you off and you shove past him, finally letting Jongdae see your anger – all of it. “No,” you snap back, furious. “I’m not mad. Mad, is when you leave dirty dishes out in the sink. Mad,” you continue, walking past the trees, “is when you cut someone off in traffic. I am so fucking far beyond mad, Jongdae.”
Teleporting again, he appears in your path.
“And stop doing that!” you yell, stumbling to a halt.
Jongdae winces at your tone. “Y/N,” he grabs onto your wrists, forcing you to look at him. “You can teleport, just like I can.”
“I know,” you retort, sullenly looking away.
“Then,” Jongdae ventures, breeze blowing hair across his face. “Why aren’t you?”
“I – I don’t know,” you stutter.
“I think you do.” Jongdae just looks at you. Just watches, waiting for you to react.
Several moments later, you sigh. “I keep on seeing him,” you admit.
“The man that you killed.”
It’s not a question, but you nod. “Yes,” you respond, quiet for a long moment. “I see him, I see his face. I feel his blood across my hands. I,” you hesitate, closing your eyes. “I don’t want to cause that kind of harm – ever again.”
“Good.”
When Jongdae says this, your eyes snap open. “Good?”
Jongdae nods, managing to smile. “I’m glad you say that,” he admits, slowly letting go of your wrists. “Were you not shaken by death, were you not upset after killing another – I would be worried.”
Staring at him, you understand what he’s saying. You understand what he means, know why this is a good thing, at least in part. It’s a good thing, from Jongdae’s perspective. It’s a good thing, from humanity’s perspective. But from your own, tired and selfish perspective – you’re dying on the inside. Your memories are eating you alive, darkening your thoughts and it’s hard, so very hard to see a way out. To see yourself as the person you once were, because winning this war means you’ll have to kill again. At the very least – you’ll have to kill Noah.
You don’t know if you can accept that.
Jongdae’s chest rises, falls and you know that he’s reading your mood. Know that he’s deciphering your emotions – which makes you annoyed, first and foremost.
“Stop doing that,” you bite out, determined. Throwing caution to the wind, you take a step forward. “Why didn’t you kill him?”
“Who?” Jongdae gapes, as though he doesn’t understand.
“Noah,” you breathe. The question has weighed on you, for some time now. “Why didn’t you kill him, in the memory I saw?”
Some flicker of emotion crosses Jongdae’s face. “I don’t… don’t know what you mean.”
“I saw it,” you whisper, watching his expression. “I saw in my dream. I saw you pause and what’s more,” you exhale, as Jongdae’s shoulders tense, “I felt it.”
He stares back at you, his face carved from stone. “You felt it?”
Gently, you nod. “I felt your anguish. I felt your pain. I felt, when you attempted to push your emotions aside and felt, when you failed. When you tried to become an Archangel again – I felt your pathway being blocked.”
Jongdae stares back, slack-jawed.
Taking a step closer, you asses his gaze. Using the powers he taught, you gauge whether or not he’s telling the truth. “Tell me why you wouldn’t kill Noah,” you demand, “and then explain, why I must.”
Jongdae’s eyes widen in shock. “I,” his voice drops to a whisper, shaking his head. “I don’t –”
“I think,” another voice interrupts, soft from the path, “that’s enough for today.”
You gaze darts to where Baekhyun steps from the trees. His cheeks are red, eyes dark – though he refuses to look anywhere but at Jongdae. Surprisingly, it’s Jongdae who takes a step backwards. Jongdae, whose gaze lowers to the ground.
“You’re needed at the house,” Baekhyun informs, jerking his head to the side. “Jongin wants to solidify your plans, says the safety of his Nephilim has gone unnoticed for long enough.”
Jongdae hesitates, glancing at you. “But – your training.”
“My training,” Baekhyun interrupts, making you look at him. “Can be continued with the others.”
After a long moment, Jongdae sighs. “Very well,” he allows, halfway turning into shadow. “Y/N,” he looks up, even as Baekhyun’s lips tighten in disapproval. “You can’t ignore your destiny forever.”
Then he disappears, presumably to the house. You stay there for a moment, before looking away. “Did Jongin really ask for him?” you ask, turning to Baekhyun.
Baekhyun shrugs, unconcerned. “He was muttering rather pointed comments as we walked to the house. I imagine they’ll have things to discuss. Oh. Was that wrong?” he frowns, as though the thought just occurred to him. “Was that bad, me sending him away?”
You should be angry with him. Should be mad, since Baekhyun forced your hand – but instead, you find yourself feeling relieved. “Thanks,” you sigh, looking out at the lake. “I’m glad you interrupted that particular conversation.”
Baekhyun watches your profile silently. Then, shifting weight to his heels, he makes a noise of discomfort. “He’s not wrong,” he admits.
The corners of your lips tighten. “Not you, too.”
Baekhyun manages to smile. “I’m not talking about destiny,” he allows. “I don’t believe in that, I don’t think you need to face anything.”
Arching a brow, you turn to stare at him. “An odd viewpoint, from a people who collect prophecies.”
When Baekhyun laughs, the sound is bleak. “Ask me if they all come true.”
“Do they?”
“No,” he answers, stepping forward. “I don’t believe in destiny, but I also don’t think you should ignore what happened.”
Sighing deeply, you struggle to look away. “Then,” you mutter, uncertain what to say. “What do you think I should do?”
A stick crunches, when Baekhyun walks closer. “I think you need to make a choice.”
“Just one?” you ask, smile wry.
Baekhyun doesn’t laugh. “I heard what you said.” He comes to a stop, tilting his head. “I heard what you said, and I understand. Each life you take, it takes a part of you. It chips away at your soul, erases you piece by piece. The thing you should ask is – will you do it anyways? Will you give a part of yourself, so that others might be spared? Or will you stand by and watch – thereby saving yourself, but dooming the rest?”
When Baekhyun speaks, the choice seems obvious. His words are a knife to your stomach, one cutting you open. He lays you bare before him, and you wonder idly why you didn’t see it before. His words are painful – unbearably so – but when you see the certainty in his gaze, it all becomes clear.
Still, you have fear. Still, you have pain.
It’s one thing to decide, but it’s another to act. To move into battle, to throw yourself before another. It’s hard to accept your fate is to kill – and it’s hard to be certain after that you’ve done the right thing.
“I,” you hesitate, looking out at the water. “I don’t know how to get past this. Each time I try to use my power, I can’t. My body won’t touch it, mind won’t see it. I only see him and, I – I,” you choke back tears burning your throat – and finally, Baekhyun moves.
He closes the distance between you, crushing you into his chest. You let him do so. Let his arms wrap around you, slide your own up his back. His sweat-stained shirt is soft, while you close your eyes to rest. Sinking into the comfort of his embrace, you feel his warmth and support.
“Slowly,” Baekhyun murmurs, in your hair. “You do so slowly. Piece by piece, you pull yourself together.”
When a light permeates your eyelids, you look up. Gasping, you realize Baekhyun is – well, Baekhyun is glowing. There’s no other words for it. Light seeps from pores, wraps his limbs with its warmth. You stare at him, awed, while Baekhyun glances down.
The light disappears. “Aw, fuck,” he grumbles, pushing one hand through his hair. “I need to take my own advice, since I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing.”
You start to laugh. It starts as a giggle and Baekhyun looks so perplexed, so startled that before long, you’re bursting out laughing. At first, Baekhyun seems alarmed but soon his expression crumbles with yours.
“God,” you groan, wiping tears from your cheeks. Whether this is from happiness or anger, it’s hard to say. “What a mess. The blind leading the blind.”
“Speak for yourself,” Baekhyun declares. “I’m light. With me, you’ll never go blind,” he announces – flinging out a wrist, Spiderman-style. A shard of light beams out to slice – well, a leaf. Just the one leaf, which tumbles rather dejectedly to the floor. Baekhyun stares. “Ah,” he rubs the back of his neck with one hand. “Maybe not.”
Turning away, you try hide your laughter. Walking back to the cabin, you leave room for Baekhyun to walk beside you. “So,” you muse, glancing sideways. “Light?”
Baekhyun just shrugs. “Jongin explained the angel the power comes from is named Junmyeon. He didn’t say much more than that.”
“I met him,” you admit, remembering. “In a dream.”
Baekhyun arches a brow. “Are you aware… of what you’re saying, sometimes?”
Recognizing the strangeness of the words, you grin. “It was a memory of Jongdae’s,” you explain. “I’m not sure how I got it, but there it is. Junmyeon.”
“Ah,” Baekhyun continues to walk. “What was he like?” he wonders, as you crest over the hill. “It’s just,” he seems uncertain. “I know he’s not my parent, or anything. It’s only, well – nice to know.”
“He was kind.” As you speak, you remember the golden, dark-haired angel. You remember Junmyeon’s son, fighting alongisde humans. “He used a spear in battle, one made from Light. He fought with the humans, beside his only son – a Nephilim called Esra. He was in love,” you hesitate, unsure if you should say this next part, “with the Archangel, Gabriel.”
Baekhyun frowns. “With your mother?”
You wrinkle your nose. “That sounds so weird, when you say it like that – but yes.”
Baekhyun grins. “I suppose there are stranger things.”
“I guess so,” you admit, staring up at the house.
“So,” Baekhyun’s smile begins to fade. “Gabriel and Junmyeon, huh?”
“I don’t think it was like that,” you hasten, hearing his tone. “In the memory, Jongdae and Junmyeon had this conversation. They talked about their love, but it wasn’t the same as ours. Philia, as opposed to Eros. I don’t think,” you pause, remembering. “I don’t think Angels can love, in the same way that humans can.”
“Interesting,” Baekhyun looks at the lake. He’s silent for a moment, until, “But you love him.”
He doesn’t need to elaborate, you know what he means. “I do,” you admit, not caring to discuss.
Baekhyun just nods. “You love me, too.”
“I do.”
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Right. I promised I wouldn’t do this. Promised I’d give you space,” Baekhyun shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, jaw tight with discomfort. “I didn’t mean it.”
“You did mean it,” you correct him softly.
It’s difficult to meet his gaze. It’s difficult to stand like this beside him, because a large part of yourself wants nothing more than to lose yourself. To return to his arms and just forget about the world. Drowning in his warmth would be nice, you reason, in his light and his happiness.
To do this would be wrong, though. It would be so wrong, and you take a step backwards to stop yourself. “Come on,” you murmur, jerking your head. “Let’s go inside. I heard Yixing mention something about a nightlight?”
Baekhyun groans, following you up the steps. “That winded muskrat,” he mutters, loud enough that only you hear. He catches the door as you step inside. “I’d like to tell him what he can do with those overgrown s’mores sticks he calls hands. Why won’t he,” he stops – nearly running into your back.
It’s clear you’ve interrupted something. The air in the kitchen is tense, half the room stuck in a standoff. Jongdae stands at the sink, Jongin and Yixing facing him over the table. This surprises you – since Jongin’s expression is pale, lips curled – and on the other side of the table, Jongdae seems no better. Yixing, surprisingly, stands between the two of them, struggling to mediate.
The door closes behind you with a thud, forcing their gazes sideways. “What’s happening?” you demand. “What’s going on?”
Jongin hisses in the back of his throat. “He won’t come.”
Baekhyun’s eyes widen and even Yixing seems appalled, gaze darting to Jongdae.
Jongdae’s jaw tightens. “I didn’t say… that,” he mutters. “I just said, not right now.”
“Then when?” Jongin finally explodes, letting loose of his anger. His eyes widen, harsh in the light. “Not now, tomorrow, the day after – when, Jongdae? You promised,” he declares, taking a threatening step forward. “You promised me you’d help, and while you sit here, sulking – Kimberly is rotting away in a cell. All alone, because you need to clean up another one of your failures. When,” he spits, “will you learn? When will you realize why the other Guardians want nothing to do with you. Why Junmyeon hasn’t talked to you for centuries, why it was idiotic that I even considered reaching out. You’re selfish,” Jongin informs. “Blinded. Heavens, if Nalia couldn’t even teach you –”
You never hear how that sentence ends, since shadows rise to suddenly warp around Jongin’s neck, silencing him completely. Looking sideways, you’re alarmed by Jongdae’s expression. His eyes burn, sunken with horror. “Never,” he hisses, taking a step forward. “Never say her name again.”
“Jongdae,” you whisper and, hearing your voice – he pauses.
Jongdae slowly turns to you and when he does, humanity leeches back into his eyes. His expression softens, no longer the harsh Angel of Death. Tentatively, shadows retract from Jongin’s throat, slithering back to Jongdae’s body and settling around him. When Jongin regains breath, the room around you seems to tense.
Jongdae recoils, staring at his hands.
“Jongdae,” you whisper, forcing yourself to speak. “You need to keep your promise.”
Jongdae’s gaze darkens. “But,” he hesitates. “Y/N, you need me.”
“I need many things. Right now, I need you to go.” Ignoring Jongdae’s expression, you look at Jongin. “I want to see my father. I want to see Trina, and I want my father to explain to me why he lied.”
Jongin arches a brow. “Alright.”
“I want you to take me to him,” you explain, watching his expression change. When Jongin tries to protest – alongside Jongdae, whom you ignore – you hold up your hands. “You are not a warrior, Jongin,” you explain, until he looks down in defeat. “It’s why you sought out Jongdae in the first place. Jongdae knows Department Exes. It will be easier for him to break Kimberly out, since he’s done it before.”
“I’ll go, too,” Baekhyun declares. “I remember the layout.”
“No,” you protest. “I appreciate that but frankly, I don’t trust you and Jongdae not to kill one other. Yixing,” you look sideways at the Nephilim. “Will you go with Jongdae? Baekhyun can come with Jongin and I to my father’s. Jongin,” you hesitate. “I hope you’ll agree. You’re the only one I trust, to explain this to my father.”
Jongin hesitates because, while he understands the plan, he doesn’t like it. Eventually, he nods. “Yes.”
“It’s a good strategy,” Yixing offers quietly.
You look up, surprised – he keeps on doing that. “Thank you, Yixing.”
Nodding, he turns. “Dae,” Yixing mutters, adjusting his belt. “Come on, let’s go.”
Jongdae hesitates. “Can I just,” he exhales. “Can you give us a moment? I need to talk to Y/N.”
Jongin doesn’t look at Jongdae before leaving the room. Yixing and Baekhyun follow, the latter’s eyes remaining on you until the door shuts between you. With the room empty, entirely devoid of sound, you look at Jongdae.
“What,” you hiss, harsher than you mean. “What do you want from me?”
Jongdae crosses the room slowly. He comes to a stop, staring at your face. Jongdae isn’t a tall man, but somehow it’s hard to meet his gaze. His expression twists with pain and desire, shadows wrapping your chin to tilt upwards.
Something in his gaze softens. “Take care,” he murmurs, then slips past.
You stay like that, until he shuts the door. This is for the best, you argue with yourself. You know this, know a separation will do you both good – but still, it hurts. It hurts to be parted from him. Then your eyes widen, realizing what you’ve done.
Your father. You requested Jongin bring you to your father.
You haven’t seen him since finding out what you were. Your father knew all along, yet kept it a secret. He kept it hidden and now, you’re going to find out why. Staring at your hands, you spread them in midair. Splaying them quietly as you recall Baekhyun’s words.
Piece by piece, you’ll pull yourself together.
Closing your eyes, you hesitate only a moment before you teleport.
[Master List]
Author’s Note: I know, I know. I have directly said the opposite in the past, regarding Baekhyun’s powers. But... I wanted it to be a surprise. More to come, I hope you enjoyed! THANK YOU for reading!
