it's 2pm
Pairing: OT7
Rating: G
Words: 440+
Wooyoung can hear the cheers from the crowd outside getting louder and louder as he nears the stage. It fuels his adrenaline rush. His fingers and toes twitch and his arms and thighs are aching with the need to move faster, to move along with loud blaring music, to dance. He hears his own pounding heartbeat - ba dum, ba dum- and he feels his nervousness, confidence, excitement and worry all at once, all rushing though his veins and through his heart.
He reaches the stage and the music starts, but now it’s not the blaring music that he hoped to hear that is reaching him, it’s the chants of Park Jaebum, Park Jaebum that pierces his ears and freezes his heart.
Wooyoung’s entire being is numb as he starts dancing along to the music. He didn’t need to think to get the dance perfect, he was sure he could do the dance backwards and upside down in his sleep. It was like his entire world was in white-and-black and on mute, the only words he hears are Park Jaebum and the only thing he sees is an ocean of black. Time passes torturously slow.
Suddenly Taecyeon comes into his view as he begins to rap, his voice loud and clear. Wooyoung looks at Taecyeon and thinks of his heavy workload, his scandal that wasn’t even half true, the massive amount of hate messages he gets daily; then his large goofy smile, his lame attempts at jokes, his voice telling Wooyoung “it’s ok, Woodongie, it’s ok.”
Then he thinks of his other members. Chansung, with his diet, his lousy ageyo and his fingers digging into Wooyoung’s cheeks; Junho, trying his best on Dream Team, his eye-smiles and his cry of “don’t touch my butt, you idiots!”; Nichkhun, his improving Korean, his over-abused hair and his determination to rap well. Then he thinks of his brother back home, Junsu, who’s probably singing “they’re gonna be okay without me” and searching the net for fancams.
All of a sudden something hits him, square in the heart. His chest tightens and something is boiling from the pit of this stomach, up to his heart and to the rest of him. His world begins to pick up pace, colouring itself again and no longer on mute. He raises his head and looks at his favourite ocean of black. Their frantic screams and shouts somehow reaches his ears and amplifies itself, and suddenly the other chants don’t matter anymore. He lifts his fist up. All he can hear, all he can see-
“So we don’t stop (2)
We can’t stop (P)
Until we reach the top (M)!”
-is 2PM.
Rating: G
Words: 440+
Wooyoung can hear the cheers from the crowd outside getting louder and louder as he nears the stage. It fuels his adrenaline rush. His fingers and toes twitch and his arms and thighs are aching with the need to move faster, to move along with loud blaring music, to dance. He hears his own pounding heartbeat - ba dum, ba dum- and he feels his nervousness, confidence, excitement and worry all at once, all rushing though his veins and through his heart.
He reaches the stage and the music starts, but now it’s not the blaring music that he hoped to hear that is reaching him, it’s the chants of Park Jaebum, Park Jaebum that pierces his ears and freezes his heart.
Wooyoung’s entire being is numb as he starts dancing along to the music. He didn’t need to think to get the dance perfect, he was sure he could do the dance backwards and upside down in his sleep. It was like his entire world was in white-and-black and on mute, the only words he hears are Park Jaebum and the only thing he sees is an ocean of black. Time passes torturously slow.
Suddenly Taecyeon comes into his view as he begins to rap, his voice loud and clear. Wooyoung looks at Taecyeon and thinks of his heavy workload, his scandal that wasn’t even half true, the massive amount of hate messages he gets daily; then his large goofy smile, his lame attempts at jokes, his voice telling Wooyoung “it’s ok, Woodongie, it’s ok.”
Then he thinks of his other members. Chansung, with his diet, his lousy ageyo and his fingers digging into Wooyoung’s cheeks; Junho, trying his best on Dream Team, his eye-smiles and his cry of “don’t touch my butt, you idiots!”; Nichkhun, his improving Korean, his over-abused hair and his determination to rap well. Then he thinks of his brother back home, Junsu, who’s probably singing “they’re gonna be okay without me” and searching the net for fancams.
All of a sudden something hits him, square in the heart. His chest tightens and something is boiling from the pit of this stomach, up to his heart and to the rest of him. His world begins to pick up pace, colouring itself again and no longer on mute. He raises his head and looks at his favourite ocean of black. Their frantic screams and shouts somehow reaches his ears and amplifies itself, and suddenly the other chants don’t matter anymore. He lifts his fist up. All he can hear, all he can see-
“So we don’t stop (2)
We can’t stop (P)
Until we reach the top (M)!”
-is 2PM.