Wake Up from the Masses [Drabble]
Title: Wake Up from the Masses
Pairing: HyungJoon/JungMin
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Voices
Genre: Dark, Angst, Psychological
Summary: He hears voices all the time…
[A/N: Echoes of frustration that materialized and came about from not wanting to do work. For yeonah , sorry it’s a little weird again.]
There were some and there were many. There was many and there was one. There is one and there is none. No, never none. They were always around. Is always around.
He doesn’t know when they started, only that they are there. Were there - since as long as he could remember.
They tell him what to do sometimes. And other sometimes not what to do. Then they’d scream at him, no they always scream. They pull him in directions. The directions of up and of down and of left and of right. They’re always shouting - a conundrum of dos and must dos and of absolutes. Status quo, status quo, status quo. To follow. Not to follow. What is the status quo? What was? He doesn’t know, it’s too noisy to distinguish one voice from the other. Much too loud. Competition, indistinguishable, and they always shout over each other, layering like a rich, clamoring pastry…
But are they always shouting? Were they? Sometimes they whisper, he thinks. Sweet seductive thoughts that burn in his mind and stick like the tar of a hundred oil mines. And savory, salty - sweet trickling down slick skin. Or perhaps both at the same time, or neither at the different time. They’re like Satan’s spawn, and he shivers in their wake. Whispers are things of the darkness, or midnight rendezvous on the romantic beach under the blood red moon that speaks of madness and a tumbling descent. Whispers are silent…
But not as silent as the absence. Sometimes there is nothing at all. So much that it’s blissful yet utterly terrifying at the same time. To lie, empty, black, utterly concealed yet revealed. It is maddening, yet he thinks that it’s not so bad maybe. Maybe there are things that are worse than the things of the real world outside of this realm of nightmares he seems to be stuck in and he doesn’t want to get out of…
~*~
…But sometimes, there is this dream. And he will open his eyes to stare at brown orbs that speak of kindness and patient sorrow. And the hand that brushes the bangs out of his eyes is gentle and speaks of a better world out there.
The vivid red of the man’s hair contrasts wildly against the glaring whiteness of the room. And he wants to reach out and stroke it - to hear the sound of delight and pleasure from the red-head’s lips. It is already wonderful enough, listening to the words that tumble like sweet honey and comforting nonsense. For that’s what it is because he can’t seem to comprehend the words that come out. The mouth moves, and there is sound, but he derives no meaning from it.
It doesn’t matter, because he can feel the love through those sounds and movements, and he wants to reprociate it. To lift his arm, finger, anything. To tell the red-haired man that he was there, he was listening and he loved. But a slight twitch was all it took, and he could feel himself being pulled back into the darkness. Back down under where it all squirmed and swirled, and the honeyed voice became part of the multitudes.
And he would listen out for it in hope, until he forgets about it and he screams in the tumble of mess that is his mind.
He thinks.
~*~
Sometimes, JungMin thinks HyungJoon can hear him. There seems to be a flicker of recognition, of peace, or sanity, in those eyes that he still loves when they open and stare. But it is always only for a few fleeting moments before they close again, and then there is the moan and screams of someone stuck in an eternal nightmare.
He clutches that pale, frail hand in his own and whispers a fervent wish to any higher order that is listening.
“Please… let him come back…”
And then, he falls to tears and sobs and a wrecked mess, because he feels the weight of guilt of the many ‘if only’s. And it was he that should have seen this descent into madness. But yet he didn’t. And he couldn’t do anything to stop or salvage the situation.
He could only blame himself.
~*~
Sometimes, HyungJoon hears everything.
~*~
Pairing: HyungJoon/JungMin
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Voices
Genre: Dark, Angst, Psychological
Summary: He hears voices all the time…
[A/N: Echoes of frustration that materialized and came about from not wanting to do work. For yeonah , sorry it’s a little weird again.]
There were some and there were many. There was many and there was one. There is one and there is none. No, never none. They were always around. Is always around.
He doesn’t know when they started, only that they are there. Were there - since as long as he could remember.
They tell him what to do sometimes. And other sometimes not what to do. Then they’d scream at him, no they always scream. They pull him in directions. The directions of up and of down and of left and of right. They’re always shouting - a conundrum of dos and must dos and of absolutes. Status quo, status quo, status quo. To follow. Not to follow. What is the status quo? What was? He doesn’t know, it’s too noisy to distinguish one voice from the other. Much too loud. Competition, indistinguishable, and they always shout over each other, layering like a rich, clamoring pastry…
But are they always shouting? Were they? Sometimes they whisper, he thinks. Sweet seductive thoughts that burn in his mind and stick like the tar of a hundred oil mines. And savory, salty - sweet trickling down slick skin. Or perhaps both at the same time, or neither at the different time. They’re like Satan’s spawn, and he shivers in their wake. Whispers are things of the darkness, or midnight rendezvous on the romantic beach under the blood red moon that speaks of madness and a tumbling descent. Whispers are silent…
But not as silent as the absence. Sometimes there is nothing at all. So much that it’s blissful yet utterly terrifying at the same time. To lie, empty, black, utterly concealed yet revealed. It is maddening, yet he thinks that it’s not so bad maybe. Maybe there are things that are worse than the things of the real world outside of this realm of nightmares he seems to be stuck in and he doesn’t want to get out of…
~*~
…But sometimes, there is this dream. And he will open his eyes to stare at brown orbs that speak of kindness and patient sorrow. And the hand that brushes the bangs out of his eyes is gentle and speaks of a better world out there.
The vivid red of the man’s hair contrasts wildly against the glaring whiteness of the room. And he wants to reach out and stroke it - to hear the sound of delight and pleasure from the red-head’s lips. It is already wonderful enough, listening to the words that tumble like sweet honey and comforting nonsense. For that’s what it is because he can’t seem to comprehend the words that come out. The mouth moves, and there is sound, but he derives no meaning from it.
It doesn’t matter, because he can feel the love through those sounds and movements, and he wants to reprociate it. To lift his arm, finger, anything. To tell the red-haired man that he was there, he was listening and he loved. But a slight twitch was all it took, and he could feel himself being pulled back into the darkness. Back down under where it all squirmed and swirled, and the honeyed voice became part of the multitudes.
And he would listen out for it in hope, until he forgets about it and he screams in the tumble of mess that is his mind.
He thinks.
~*~
Sometimes, JungMin thinks HyungJoon can hear him. There seems to be a flicker of recognition, of peace, or sanity, in those eyes that he still loves when they open and stare. But it is always only for a few fleeting moments before they close again, and then there is the moan and screams of someone stuck in an eternal nightmare.
He clutches that pale, frail hand in his own and whispers a fervent wish to any higher order that is listening.
“Please… let him come back…”
And then, he falls to tears and sobs and a wrecked mess, because he feels the weight of guilt of the many ‘if only’s. And it was he that should have seen this descent into madness. But yet he didn’t. And he couldn’t do anything to stop or salvage the situation.
He could only blame himself.
~*~
Sometimes, HyungJoon hears everything.
~*~