He has wings.

Big, beautiful wings that are his from birth. Pristine, spotless, and pure—blessings that sprout out his back from his heart. But they aren’t just for show, they nurture without hesitation and give solace whenever needed. They hold him up and let him fly.

Soft weight guiding him, he jumps, gliding on the wind. Over the city, he can observe everything; the ant-sized people and beetle-like cars, and everywhere they roam to. In these moments, he’s a seraph, watching over—protecting, everyone below.

A mere wish is all it is, but it’s strong enough to convince even the heavens to believe it.

°°°

The sun sets, coating the city’s glass exteriors in paint, specks of gold on pastel pink and purple. The colors waver and spin, weaving into each other to create abstract art, glittering reflections changing every second.

Donghae sees this spectacle outside his workplace, and whistles in admiration. The buildings look beautiful, but only with the help of nature’s shine. He wouldn’t think to call them as such in any other situation. They’re big metal boxes, excess lumps obstructing his vision. But for the time being, they’re beautiful.

Another moment and Donghae walks down the block, away from the sunset’s allure.

In place of the evening’s usual biting wind is a warm current, wisps soft and gentle, soothing even to the ears. Donghae closes his eyes when the air grows stronger, relishing in the tickling sensations it gives flowing across his skin. It’s but a momentary delight; the velvet caresses abruptly stop when he turns the corner, a tall building blocking the way. It acts as an effective barrier, keeping both the soft breeze and pretty sunset away.

Although irked by the change, Donghae pays it no heed and continues to walk, choosing instead to think about his plans for the rest of the day. He would get home and sleep, enveloped in soft covers until the morning came and he had to go to work again. Focusing on the prior makes him quicken his pace, forcing against his fatigued state. He can’t wait to get to his bed.

A high-pitched ringing rips through his thoughts, biting like needles at his ears. He winces, annoyed at the sensitivity of his hearing. He wills it to go away, but the volume intensifies even more.

It’s approaching him, he realizes, but before he comprehends the situation, the noise stops, and something invisible crashes into him, roughly forcing the air out of his lungs.

The force is strong enough that his body is toppling, rolling several times before coming to a halt against something cold and hard.

He squeezes his watering eyes open, and glimpsing the edge of a car finally understands that the noise was that of screeching tires. Something is pressing onto him, and he feels like he’s in free-fall, even though he already fell on the ground. He can’t regain his breathe.

Amidst honking and sirens and shouts, Donghae thinks he hears a barely audible fluttering sound, but it fades to silence as his vision turns black.

°°°

When Donghae opens his eyes, white greets him on each and every side. It’s blinding and hard to look at, forcing his eyelids shut in an attempt to block out the sting.

Slowly, sounds register in his ears; quiet murmurs, the shuffling of feet, and a weird dripping not far away. Opening his eyes again, Donghae sees a man’s face instead of white.

The man speaks in a slow, droned-out voice, as if to someone hearing impaired.

The words come together but Donghae doesn’t expect the question. How do you feel?

“I feel okay.”

The man sighs in relief at the answer, and turns to someone out of Donghae’s vision. At least he can still talk.

When he sees the man’s lab coat, Donghae knows he is in the hospital, and the man is a doctor. The doctor disappears from his sight, returning with gloves and a mask. He talks in a hushed tone while putting the mask on, but Donghae is able to make out the whispers. They want to do some tests on him—they need to check his respiratory functions and the condition of his spinal cord?

“But I’m fine” says Donghae.

The doctor stops mumbling, and when his gloves are fully on with a snap, stares at Donghae. His expression changes and he looks about ready to reach for something, eyes on a small grouping of syringes. Donghae panics for a moment, cringing at the thought of being sedated back into fuzziness, but then the doctor is convinced by a nurse at his side to just quietly conduct the tests.

For what seems like forever, people in white coats rush in and out of the room, arms full of medical equipment and disposable latex.

It’s already morning when all of them suddenly swarm into the room. Seeing the hospital staff stay standing, Donghae realizes that it’s over.

The doctors reluctantly say, reluctantly because it doesn’t make sense to them, shouldn’t even, that Donghae is completely fine. Just like he claimed.

They explain to him that he was in a car accident, is the only survivor, the driver and all passengers dead from the impact of the crash. The car was speeding 40 miles above the limit, and hit him , the collision recorded by the street’s CCTV.

He should be in a coma, have broken bones, torn ligaments, twisted limbs, and yet, he’s perfectly fine, not even one trace of a bruise on his body. Even his organs are unscathed, multiple tests showing no signs of internal bleeding. He’s alive and well, as if he was brought back from having his evening tea, not from an SUV crashing into him, ten hours ago.

And because they don’t understand, despite the test results, they hook him up to an IV pack and urge him to rest. They ignore his complaints and insist he stay at the hospital for a few weeks, for reassurance they say, as if the effects of the crash will suddenly catch up to him and leave him crippled.

The police have a similar response. They ask him the same questions time and time again, waving around statistical data, refusing to believe the situation. Donghae perseveres through many spouts of physics and math, hoping that by being compliant, he can appease them quicker. He never liked those subjects.

His plan doesn’t work however, and he’s interrogated for hours on end. He doesn’t understand the point of it all, because he barely remembers anything about the accident. It resembles a surreal dream more than an actual event even if he works hard wracking through his memory.

When they all finally leave, he isn’t allowed to go outside his room. He’s treated like a human-turned-vegetable, and this aggravates him to no end. He makes his desire to do something other than lay idly in bed known to anyone walking by, doctor or not. He doesn’t try to sleep.

An elderly nurse that comes in to clean is the one that succumbs to his pleads, heavy sigh and cast-down look winning her over. At her exit, the door is left slightly ajar—a wordless invitation that Donghae takes with haste.

Out in the hallway, Donghae is temporarily at a loss. He’s finally out of the room, but he doesn’t know what to do from here on.

After he checks for security guards and finds none, Donghae loiters, directionless. He’s craving fresh air, and waltzing straight out the hospital entrance isn’t a smart idea, more so because he’s supposed to be “resting”.

Like this, he ends up going to the roof.

Two flights of stairs and he reaches a door labeled “Authorized Personnel Only”. He expects it to be locked, but it opens with a small push.

The evening air floods his senses, nipping lightly with pleasant, cool touches. He takes a huge breathe, enjoying that it doesn’t smell like disinfectant.

One step onto the rooftop’s smooth surface and Donghae stops. He is not alone.

The first thing that catches his attention is the other’s hair—a pale blonde, practically silver. The light locks stick out in different directions, ruffled by the breeze. The setting sun makes the strands look like they’re glowing, an illusion of a halo, almost. 

The silhouette is wearing a hospital gown like Donghae, but outlined with the sun’s light, the patterned wear appears more ethereal than plain.

But there’s one thing that puts the scene off. The boy is standing on top of the railings, balancing barefoot. His arms stretch out to either side, wide open, as if prepared to dive into the air below. He looks ready to jump off.

Is he going to?

But before Donghae gets any closer or calls out, the boy is already on the ground.

He turns around as soon as his slippers are on, bright eyes looking straight at Donghae’s. He isn’t shocked by Donghae’s presence, but instead gleams at him with a large, gummy smile before easily circling around and going down the stairs.

He has a beautiful smile, Donghae thinks.

And that is his first meeting with Eunhyuk.

°°°

The boy will be transferred to the psychiatric ward in two weeks, Donghae learns the same night. He has glass wounds and is being treated, but they’re keeping him in the hospital for another reason.

The boy is crazy, completely delusional. Plagued by a mental sickness. Without a doubt out of his mind. He doesn’t understand the natural workings of the world, and needs drastic help.

He believes he has wings.

A/N: Thank you to all the subscribers!~ Sorry for the chapter's messiness, it moved really quickly, but any slower and it would be strange. Things will even out with the next update XD If anyone has any advice, feel free to share!
[Edit]: Rewrote chapter~

@lovelylovers : Congrats~ ;P Hopefully the first chapter doesn't disappoint xD

@123missyevil : Updated~ Hope you like the story :D