大声嘶吼
fandom: exo
pairing: jongdae's voice/joonmyeon featuring jongdae
rating: pg-13
prompt: "one day joonmyeon wakes up and he can hear jongdae's voice in his head"
requested by: nisakomi
하나: listen to me
He was brushing his teeth in the bathroom when he heard it. It sliced through his thoughts, interrupting a drawn-out internal debate Joonmyeon was having about the merits of showering before or after the weekly meeting with the manager to go over schedules. At first, it was imperceptible, just a low murmur somewhere, but then it was like a mini-subwoofer playing a bizarre new track and Joonmyeon couldn't do anything to drown it out. You should shower now. You probably smell.
Joonmyeon lurched forward in surprise and dropped his toothbrush in the sink, now ready to listen intently to hear it again. Instead, there was silence. Hello? he asked, craning his head to peer through the vents. It had to be one of the members playing a practical joke on him. It was too early in the morning for reason; after all, his members couldn't have known what he was thinking and respond to it, but Joonmyeon wasn't reasonable at six in the morning. Hello? This isn't funny, you guys.
Again, silence. He shook his head and picked up his toothbrush, rinsing it off before returning it to the proper cup on the table. He was reaching for his towel on the rack when it cut through his new thoughts about his sleeping schedule. I'm still here.
Joonmyeon was now certain it was not coming from a vent. He opened the bathroom door gingerly and peered into the hallway. Each member's door was closed shut, the muffled sounds of snoring escaping from at least two of the doors to his right. He closed the door again, and when he was certain he had caught his breath, he said, Where?
In your head, silly. It sounded suspiciously like Jongdae, like Jongdae was right next to him, but it couldn't be Jongdae. It was in Joonmyeon's head. In his head.... He shook his head furiously, as if he could shake the voice out. You can't get rid of me just by shaking your head.
Joonmyeon choked out a how? as he paced the bathroom. He could almost imagine Jongdae standing in front of him, shrugging, as the voice replied, I don't know. It's your head. A little smirk would spread across Jongdae's face, and then Joonmyeon would just feel like a fool. Jongdae had that effect on people.
I can't deal with this right now, Joonmyeon said aloud. I don't know what's going on but I have to go. He opened the bathroom door and walked into the hallway, making his way to the practice room where he'd be meeting with the manager. He ignored the voice's random humming, which had long passed annoying and was now in the firm category of distracting as fuck, and even as he made his way down the stairs counting his steps to keep his mind off the voice, anything to keep his mind off the voice, the voice began to sing.
Joonmyeon continued to ignore it, as he stepped inside the practice room and the manager waved him over to look at a schedule. You should shower after this, you know. You really should have listened to me and showered before. A loud sigh now. You really should listen to me.
Shut up, Joonmyeon spat angrily under his breath, and the manager looked up at him with a surprised look on his face. Joonmyeon was quick to apologize. Ah, I'm sorry, I-I wasn't talking to you. Damn that voice. Damn Jongdae. This had something to do with him, it had to. I'm sorry, I have to go, Joonmyeon blurted out, and then he was barreling up the stairs straight to Jongdae's room.
When he reached the wooden door, he pushed forward, but it was firmly bolted. Now Joonmyeon was reaching his hand up to knock furiously even as the voice said again and again, You really should listen to me, you really should, Joonmyeon. Listen to me. The door swung open and a half-asleep Jongdae emerged from the darkness, muttering, I'm up, I'm up, Minseok, can you stop knocking.
Joonmyeon shoved his way in, and a startled Jongdae squawked, J-Joonmyeon, what are you doing here? We don't have any schedules together today, but before the bewilderment could sink in, Joonmyeon was word vomiting all over the place.
Why is your voice in my head? What am I saying, why are you in my head? Why? I just, I don't understand, Jongdae. How are you in my head? Jongdae raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth only to close it again. Why?
Even as Jongdae shook his head, the voice was back. You need to listen, Joonmyeon. Listen to me. Joonmyeon shook his head, too. What was he supposed to be listening to? What was he supposed to hear?
And with stark clarity, the voice cut through again, drowning out Jongdae himself telling Joonmyeon to take two aspirin pills and have a nap or something because he was clearly stressed out. You need to listen to me because I can help you. I can help you be everything you've ever wanted to be. You just have to listen to me.
둘: now you have to see
Joonmyeon was standing up now, apologizing profusely for having bothered Jongdae, even as Jongdae tugged at his arm to stay. I'm sorry, I have to go, I'm tired and I should sleep or something, he muttered, backing out the door. Jongdae was calling his name, telling him to stop, that he should go see the doctor, but Joonmyeon was out the door already, sprinting across the hall to his room.
He slammed the door shut and leaned against it, breathing heavily as the voice began to talk again. It was still as clear as it had ever been, and the voices that were real, that Joonmyeon knew were real, were starting to take on the consistency of molasses, thick and muffled and muted. Good. You're alone. Now I know you think you're going crazy or that you're losing it but you need to trust me, Joonmyeon. I can help you.
Help me with what? Joonmyeon asked, in spite of his own mental rationale that he wouldn't reply to this voice, he wouldn't give in to the insanity. Too late, he clamped his hand over his mouth, as if he could stop the words in their tracks before they permeated the open air and dissipated like steam.
Your fear. Your anxiety. Your insecurities. I can help you become a better singer, I can help you become a better dancer, I can help you become a better leader. The voice paused now, as if Jongdae (no, it wasn't Jongdae, just his voice or something) was thinking, hands clasped in his lap and head bent low. You want that, don't you?
Joonmyeon was pensive but he didn't even have to breathe out his answer. The voice already knew. It was in his head, after all. Like a tidal wave, the momentous power of this voice, this voice that knew about Joonmyeon's only wish to be as valuable and talented as everyone else seemed to be, to be as trustworthy and confident and liked as everyone else seemed to be, came crashing down on him. This voice that was a part of him was trying to help. Some Freudian bullshit was going on here, and Joonmyeon couldn't make sense of it, but it didn't matter: this voice knew the answers.
It started with his anxiety. Like a therapist, the voice asked the right questions, paused at the right times to wait for an answer, even as Joonmyeon stumbled over his words like a child speaking for the first time. It was difficult for him to put his anxiety into words, the constant and perpetually choking fear that he just wasn't good enough, that making him leader was SM's way of giving him something to do, giving him a purpose when he had none. It was difficult for him to properly articulate what exactly it was that gave him pause, that made him wake up in the middle of the night sobbing hysterically and chewing on the bedsheets to keep his crying quiet. But the voice helped. The voice was soothing, hopeful, trustworthy, and Joonmyeon felt safe.
Once the therapy had ended, the voice was ready to teach Joonmyeon how to improve his talent. Voice lessons were at 6 every night, when all the members were downstairs eating dinner. He would train for half an hour and then scurry downstairs to scarf down a hasty meal, and then back upstairs at 7 for dance lessons. Then, sweating from head to toe, he would rip off his drenched outfit and sprint into the showers. Minutes later, he would reemerge and fall, exhausted, onto his bed, only for it to continue again the next night.
But Joonmyeon didn't mind. Joonmyeon couldn't mind. He started noticing that ever since the voice came into his life, he no longer cried at night. He no longer fell silent and morose when other members were asked to display their talent and he was not. For the first time since he had started training nearly eight years ago, he felt happy.
셋: goodbye
One day, the voice left. The night before, it had been there, saying the words of comfort Joonmyeon was so used to, and then it just wasn't anymore. When Joonmyeon woke the next morning, instead of the voice greeting him, it was his own voice that said hello. Inexplicably, without even leaving a (mental) note, the voice had left.
And no amount of pleading and searching could bring the voice back. Even when Joonmyeon ran into Jongdae in the dining room, even when he heard the voice come out of Jongdae's mouth, when night would fall Joonmyeon was alone again. The voice had served its purpose, and Joonmyeon would have to go on without it.
The first day without the voice was the hardest. After schedules were over, Joonmyeon would sprint up to his room counting down the minutes until 6 before he realized that the voice wasn't going to help him anymore. The next day was equally as hard, and Joonmyeon realized how much he had grown to rely on the voice.
I can help you be everything you've ever wanted to be, the voice had said. And it had succeeded. Joonmyeon was not just a better singer, or a better dancer. Joonmyeon was a better person. Joonmyeon felt for the first time in nearly eight years like he could be confident and strong and secure, like he should be proud of all the things he had accomplished and could accomplish in the future. The voice hadn't given him talent or skills; instead, the voice had given him optimism.
Thank you had been the last thing Joonmyeon had said to the voice before it disappeared forever. The voice had been quiet, and Joonmyeon had imagined Jongdae's silent nod whenever people complimented him, a slight blush creeping up his face. I'm glad I listened to you. Thank you.
You should sleep now, the voice had said. Because tomorrow, you're going to keep training. Make me proud, Joonmyeon.
Joonmyeon could only hope now that wherever the voice was, whether still in his subconscious or just gone forever, that it could see him now. That it was proud of him.
Goodbye.
pairing: jongdae's voice/joonmyeon featuring jongdae
rating: pg-13
prompt: "one day joonmyeon wakes up and he can hear jongdae's voice in his head"
requested by: nisakomi
하나: listen to me
He was brushing his teeth in the bathroom when he heard it. It sliced through his thoughts, interrupting a drawn-out internal debate Joonmyeon was having about the merits of showering before or after the weekly meeting with the manager to go over schedules. At first, it was imperceptible, just a low murmur somewhere, but then it was like a mini-subwoofer playing a bizarre new track and Joonmyeon couldn't do anything to drown it out. You should shower now. You probably smell.
Joonmyeon lurched forward in surprise and dropped his toothbrush in the sink, now ready to listen intently to hear it again. Instead, there was silence. Hello? he asked, craning his head to peer through the vents. It had to be one of the members playing a practical joke on him. It was too early in the morning for reason; after all, his members couldn't have known what he was thinking and respond to it, but Joonmyeon wasn't reasonable at six in the morning. Hello? This isn't funny, you guys.
Again, silence. He shook his head and picked up his toothbrush, rinsing it off before returning it to the proper cup on the table. He was reaching for his towel on the rack when it cut through his new thoughts about his sleeping schedule. I'm still here.
Joonmyeon was now certain it was not coming from a vent. He opened the bathroom door gingerly and peered into the hallway. Each member's door was closed shut, the muffled sounds of snoring escaping from at least two of the doors to his right. He closed the door again, and when he was certain he had caught his breath, he said, Where?
In your head, silly. It sounded suspiciously like Jongdae, like Jongdae was right next to him, but it couldn't be Jongdae. It was in Joonmyeon's head. In his head.... He shook his head furiously, as if he could shake the voice out. You can't get rid of me just by shaking your head.
Joonmyeon choked out a how? as he paced the bathroom. He could almost imagine Jongdae standing in front of him, shrugging, as the voice replied, I don't know. It's your head. A little smirk would spread across Jongdae's face, and then Joonmyeon would just feel like a fool. Jongdae had that effect on people.
I can't deal with this right now, Joonmyeon said aloud. I don't know what's going on but I have to go. He opened the bathroom door and walked into the hallway, making his way to the practice room where he'd be meeting with the manager. He ignored the voice's random humming, which had long passed annoying and was now in the firm category of distracting as fuck, and even as he made his way down the stairs counting his steps to keep his mind off the voice, anything to keep his mind off the voice, the voice began to sing.
Joonmyeon continued to ignore it, as he stepped inside the practice room and the manager waved him over to look at a schedule. You should shower after this, you know. You really should have listened to me and showered before. A loud sigh now. You really should listen to me.
Shut up, Joonmyeon spat angrily under his breath, and the manager looked up at him with a surprised look on his face. Joonmyeon was quick to apologize. Ah, I'm sorry, I-I wasn't talking to you. Damn that voice. Damn Jongdae. This had something to do with him, it had to. I'm sorry, I have to go, Joonmyeon blurted out, and then he was barreling up the stairs straight to Jongdae's room.
When he reached the wooden door, he pushed forward, but it was firmly bolted. Now Joonmyeon was reaching his hand up to knock furiously even as the voice said again and again, You really should listen to me, you really should, Joonmyeon. Listen to me. The door swung open and a half-asleep Jongdae emerged from the darkness, muttering, I'm up, I'm up, Minseok, can you stop knocking.
Joonmyeon shoved his way in, and a startled Jongdae squawked, J-Joonmyeon, what are you doing here? We don't have any schedules together today, but before the bewilderment could sink in, Joonmyeon was word vomiting all over the place.
Why is your voice in my head? What am I saying, why are you in my head? Why? I just, I don't understand, Jongdae. How are you in my head? Jongdae raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth only to close it again. Why?
Even as Jongdae shook his head, the voice was back. You need to listen, Joonmyeon. Listen to me. Joonmyeon shook his head, too. What was he supposed to be listening to? What was he supposed to hear?
And with stark clarity, the voice cut through again, drowning out Jongdae himself telling Joonmyeon to take two aspirin pills and have a nap or something because he was clearly stressed out. You need to listen to me because I can help you. I can help you be everything you've ever wanted to be. You just have to listen to me.
둘: now you have to see
Joonmyeon was standing up now, apologizing profusely for having bothered Jongdae, even as Jongdae tugged at his arm to stay. I'm sorry, I have to go, I'm tired and I should sleep or something, he muttered, backing out the door. Jongdae was calling his name, telling him to stop, that he should go see the doctor, but Joonmyeon was out the door already, sprinting across the hall to his room.
He slammed the door shut and leaned against it, breathing heavily as the voice began to talk again. It was still as clear as it had ever been, and the voices that were real, that Joonmyeon knew were real, were starting to take on the consistency of molasses, thick and muffled and muted. Good. You're alone. Now I know you think you're going crazy or that you're losing it but you need to trust me, Joonmyeon. I can help you.
Help me with what? Joonmyeon asked, in spite of his own mental rationale that he wouldn't reply to this voice, he wouldn't give in to the insanity. Too late, he clamped his hand over his mouth, as if he could stop the words in their tracks before they permeated the open air and dissipated like steam.
Your fear. Your anxiety. Your insecurities. I can help you become a better singer, I can help you become a better dancer, I can help you become a better leader. The voice paused now, as if Jongdae (no, it wasn't Jongdae, just his voice or something) was thinking, hands clasped in his lap and head bent low. You want that, don't you?
Joonmyeon was pensive but he didn't even have to breathe out his answer. The voice already knew. It was in his head, after all. Like a tidal wave, the momentous power of this voice, this voice that knew about Joonmyeon's only wish to be as valuable and talented as everyone else seemed to be, to be as trustworthy and confident and liked as everyone else seemed to be, came crashing down on him. This voice that was a part of him was trying to help. Some Freudian bullshit was going on here, and Joonmyeon couldn't make sense of it, but it didn't matter: this voice knew the answers.
It started with his anxiety. Like a therapist, the voice asked the right questions, paused at the right times to wait for an answer, even as Joonmyeon stumbled over his words like a child speaking for the first time. It was difficult for him to put his anxiety into words, the constant and perpetually choking fear that he just wasn't good enough, that making him leader was SM's way of giving him something to do, giving him a purpose when he had none. It was difficult for him to properly articulate what exactly it was that gave him pause, that made him wake up in the middle of the night sobbing hysterically and chewing on the bedsheets to keep his crying quiet. But the voice helped. The voice was soothing, hopeful, trustworthy, and Joonmyeon felt safe.
Once the therapy had ended, the voice was ready to teach Joonmyeon how to improve his talent. Voice lessons were at 6 every night, when all the members were downstairs eating dinner. He would train for half an hour and then scurry downstairs to scarf down a hasty meal, and then back upstairs at 7 for dance lessons. Then, sweating from head to toe, he would rip off his drenched outfit and sprint into the showers. Minutes later, he would reemerge and fall, exhausted, onto his bed, only for it to continue again the next night.
But Joonmyeon didn't mind. Joonmyeon couldn't mind. He started noticing that ever since the voice came into his life, he no longer cried at night. He no longer fell silent and morose when other members were asked to display their talent and he was not. For the first time since he had started training nearly eight years ago, he felt happy.
셋: goodbye
One day, the voice left. The night before, it had been there, saying the words of comfort Joonmyeon was so used to, and then it just wasn't anymore. When Joonmyeon woke the next morning, instead of the voice greeting him, it was his own voice that said hello. Inexplicably, without even leaving a (mental) note, the voice had left.
And no amount of pleading and searching could bring the voice back. Even when Joonmyeon ran into Jongdae in the dining room, even when he heard the voice come out of Jongdae's mouth, when night would fall Joonmyeon was alone again. The voice had served its purpose, and Joonmyeon would have to go on without it.
The first day without the voice was the hardest. After schedules were over, Joonmyeon would sprint up to his room counting down the minutes until 6 before he realized that the voice wasn't going to help him anymore. The next day was equally as hard, and Joonmyeon realized how much he had grown to rely on the voice.
I can help you be everything you've ever wanted to be, the voice had said. And it had succeeded. Joonmyeon was not just a better singer, or a better dancer. Joonmyeon was a better person. Joonmyeon felt for the first time in nearly eight years like he could be confident and strong and secure, like he should be proud of all the things he had accomplished and could accomplish in the future. The voice hadn't given him talent or skills; instead, the voice had given him optimism.
Thank you had been the last thing Joonmyeon had said to the voice before it disappeared forever. The voice had been quiet, and Joonmyeon had imagined Jongdae's silent nod whenever people complimented him, a slight blush creeping up his face. I'm glad I listened to you. Thank you.
You should sleep now, the voice had said. Because tomorrow, you're going to keep training. Make me proud, Joonmyeon.
Joonmyeon could only hope now that wherever the voice was, whether still in his subconscious or just gone forever, that it could see him now. That it was proud of him.
Goodbye.