So Sick
So Sick
Pairing: Dooseob
Rating: PG
Genre: angst, romance, eventual happy
Summary: Inspired by Ne-Yo’s “so sick.” Yoseob is gone and Doojoon is left with love songs on a radio that he just can’t bring himself to turn off.
So Sick
Doojoon lay bonelessly in his large bed, propped against numerous pillows and bundled under a heavy comforter. Shades covered the windows in his room, muting the sunlight that was vainly trying to stream into the room. Dark, tired eyes stared blankly at the blinking message light on his phone that innocently rested on the nightstand. His body felt pressed under an invisible, crushing weight. An emotionless expression had settled on his face for what seemed like long term residence, and he slowly moved his hand to press the play button. Instead of playing the message, which he knew was a concerned call from Hyunseung, he pressed a different, smaller button. Two voices flooded the room, one his own, the other higher timbered and so smooth.
Hey *giggles* we can’t come to the phone, but leave a message and we’ll get back to you (eventually called a voice in the back) Doojoon, stop it! Bye-yum!
Doojoon’s face crumpled from its blank gaze when the message played, flinching at the happy voice emitting from the speakers. Silence reigned throughout the room for a moment before he let out a pained, choked cry. His hands quickly went up to his face and he pinched the bridge of his nose. His head already hurt from crying too much, and he’d be damned if he did it anymore today.
After a few moments, Doojoon let out a large sigh and rolled over, curling back into the blankets.
Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow he’d go face the world. Today he deserved to be absolutely miserable.
****
Hyunseung bit his lower lip and eyed his friend’s living room. Unlike its usual chaos, nothing littered the floor and the kitchen was almost sparkling. It was unsettling. Doojoon was in the kitchen, grabbing two beers when the phone started ringing. Hyunseung didn’t think anything of it until after a few moments he realized Doojoon wasn’t making any moves to answer it.
“Um…Doojoon?” he called, “your phone is ringing.”
“Yeah I know,” Doojoon answered in an ‘are you stupid’ kind of voice.
Hyunseung blinked a couple times, the phone still ringing off in Doojoon’s room.
“Do you…uh…want me to answer it for you?” he asked, already standing up from the couch.
“NO!” Doojoon said emphatically, rushing out from the kitchen and shoving a beer into Hyunseung’s hand and pushing him back into the cushions. A beep was heard.
Hey *giggles* we can’t come to the phone, but leave a message and we’ll get back to you (eventually) Doojoon, stop it! Bye-yum!
Hyunseung stared wide-eyed at the still standing Doojoon, who was holding his breath and listening intently to the recording.
“Oh, Doojoon,” was all Hyunseung got out before Doojoon flashed him a warning look and collapsed next to him on the couch.
“I know,” he said wearily. “I know I need to change it. It’s just…since he walked out, it’s the only way I can hear his voice anymore.”
He took a swig from his beer bottle and cast his eyes to the floor. Hyunseung fondled his condensing bottle nervously and tried to think of ways to introduce the much-needed conversation. Finally he took a page from his lover’s book and decided to be completely, stupidly blunt.
“You need to get over it Doojoon. It’s been months.”
“Only one and three days,” Doojoon corrected.
Hyunseung raised an eyebrow and said nothing.
Doojoon sighed heavily.
“I know,” Doojoon said, eyes fixed on some point on the wall past Hyunseung’s head. “Don’t think I don’t it’s just, something won’t let me get over it. I know I can be stronger than this.”
Hyunseung sighed heavily at his friend’s confession.
“Look,” Doojoon said abruptly, causing Hyunseung to start in his seat a little. “No more walking around with my head down. I promise Seung, I’ll shape up. No more crying over him.”
Hyunseung doubted the sincerity of his friend’s words.
So did Doojoon.
****
Hyunseung had great reasons to doubt his friend’s sincerity. Doojoon was head over heels, absolutely, positively, madly in love with Yoseob.
Everyone could see it.
Apparently Yoseob couldn’t.
Doojoon grunted as he lifted a box out of his closet. The day was sunny, perfect weather for a walk, Yoseob would have said. They would have gone to the park, maybe Doojoon would have bought ice cream for the two of them, strawberry for Yoseob. They would have played on the swingset (providing that the swings weren’t already occupied by small children).
Doojoon was inside his apartment cleaning out old and useless junk.
Doojoon walked quickly down the hall and into his living room, praying for his fingers to keep hold of the heavy weight in his hands. Dropping the box with a loud thunk, he stood straight and popped his back, stretching the muscles there.
He pulled the bottom of his wife-beater up to wipe sweat off his forehead and contemplated switching out of blue jeans to shorts before deciding the effort wasn’t worth it. He’d just get dust on his legs anyway.
Doojoon’s eye caught the calendar hanging on the wall by the television and he noticed it was a month late. He walked over and pulled it off the wall, flipping the page over.
And froze.
It was July.
There was a sloppy circle around the 15th and Doojoon remembered Yoseob drawing it in, eyes crinkling in happiness as Doojoon kissed his neck. He had been thinking about what to get Yoseob for their anniversary. He may have taken him to a fancy restaurant, and they could have fed each other over the table. He probably would have driven his lover to the ocean, despite the long drive. Yoseob loved the ocean. He would have put a blanket in the trunk so they could snuggle on the sand wrapped in each other’s arms. They would have watched the sun break the horizon and rise pink in the sky.
Doojoon could have stared at Yoseob’s face light up in that smile he found brighter than the sun.
Doojoon stared at the red circle around the 15th. He stared until his eyes burned, until they blurred, until he was seeing a red blur on an ugly, colorless mosaic and how morbidly funny, he thought, that this was the first piece of art that he could emotionally connect to.
He stared at the red circle and he hated it. Roughly wiping the tears that had secretly slipped dirty tracks down his face with his forearm, Doojoon walked into the kitchen and pulled a black pen from a drawer.
He stared at July 15 one more moment before he felt a sudden swell of anger and with bold ink scratched the day out. He colored the whole box black and felt the adrenaline run in his veins and suddenly his whole body was weak and he took deep breaths but he still felt the misery pushing past the rage and rising, rising, rising up so high that he was drowning and the water was escaping from his eyes again.
Doojoon left the calendar on the counter and hid in bed for the rest of the day.
****
The radio was his enemy.
Six miserable weeks had passed and Doojoon was just as stuck as he seemed to be the morning after he discovered Yoseob was gone.
He still rolled over in the morning and reached for the soft warmth he used to secure himself in.
However today Doojoon tried what Kikwang had suggested: music therapy.
He knew that Kikwang had just made it up. Kikwang always made things up on the spot, but finding someone pathetic enough to believe them was always a challenge. Doojoon decided he was just pathetic and desperate enough to try anything. The fact that it made Kikwang ridiculously happy was a bonus.
So Doojoon pulled out a small boom box, placed it on the kitchen table, and turned it on.
The first song was a love song.
The second song was a love song about dichotomies of love.
The third singer was pleading for their lover to come back.
The forth song was Rainism.
Doojoon liked the forth song.
But apparently Rain had his limits, as endless love song after love song played through his speakers. Words of betrayal, anger, tears, love, devotion, passion…Doojoon listened for an hour and felt worse than he had before trying Kikwang’s therapy.
He listened and he felt the gut wrenching ache of loneliness and sorrow and wanted it to stop.
But he just couldn’t turn off the radio.
****
Doojoon was sitting on his couch, music from the radio playing softly in the background. He stared at the wall.
It needed to stop.
The music needed to stop.
His pain and hurt needed to stop.
His tears needed to stop.
He stared apathetically at the wall and his mind was silent but his heart was screaming.
And a knock sounded at the door.
Doojoon ignored it and instead blinked slowly. A woman sang “please” desperately through the speakers.
The knock came again.
Doojoon lolled his head back and looked towards the door. He willed the person on the other side away.
They didn’t leave.
And the knocking came louder, harder.
Doojoon stood up.
Walked to the door.
Opened it.
The song ended as his eyes hungrily devoured the sight of Yoseob in the threshold. He was sniffling, crying, shaking.
“Doojoon-ah,” Yoseob whimpered.
Doojoon grabbed the boy in his arms and crushed him to his chest. He didn’t know that Yoseob had been hurting as much as he had been. He didn’t know that Junhyung had been Hyunseung’s mirror. He didn’t know that Kikwang had prescribed the same therapy.
He didn’t know that Yoseob couldn’t turn off the radio either.
Doojoon pulled the crying man into his apartment and closed the door.
A new song started.
****
*********
****
And I'm so sick of love songs
So tired of tears
So done with wishin' you were still here
Said I'm so sick of love songs so sad and slow
Why can't I turn off the radio?
A.N: I can’t do it! >< I CAN’T break Dooseob! So instead I made it a vague happy ending and an unexplained angst (cause let’s be honest, how could dooseob ever be NOT perfectly happy in wedding-land?!) Also, I’m on a writing spree and I have no idea why it’s happening but I’m just going to embrace it. So I hope you do as well kkkkkk
Pairing: Dooseob
Rating: PG
Genre: angst, romance, eventual happy
Summary: Inspired by Ne-Yo’s “so sick.” Yoseob is gone and Doojoon is left with love songs on a radio that he just can’t bring himself to turn off.
So Sick
Doojoon lay bonelessly in his large bed, propped against numerous pillows and bundled under a heavy comforter. Shades covered the windows in his room, muting the sunlight that was vainly trying to stream into the room. Dark, tired eyes stared blankly at the blinking message light on his phone that innocently rested on the nightstand. His body felt pressed under an invisible, crushing weight. An emotionless expression had settled on his face for what seemed like long term residence, and he slowly moved his hand to press the play button. Instead of playing the message, which he knew was a concerned call from Hyunseung, he pressed a different, smaller button. Two voices flooded the room, one his own, the other higher timbered and so smooth.
Hey *giggles* we can’t come to the phone, but leave a message and we’ll get back to you (eventually called a voice in the back) Doojoon, stop it! Bye-yum!
Doojoon’s face crumpled from its blank gaze when the message played, flinching at the happy voice emitting from the speakers. Silence reigned throughout the room for a moment before he let out a pained, choked cry. His hands quickly went up to his face and he pinched the bridge of his nose. His head already hurt from crying too much, and he’d be damned if he did it anymore today.
After a few moments, Doojoon let out a large sigh and rolled over, curling back into the blankets.
Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow he’d go face the world. Today he deserved to be absolutely miserable.
****
Hyunseung bit his lower lip and eyed his friend’s living room. Unlike its usual chaos, nothing littered the floor and the kitchen was almost sparkling. It was unsettling. Doojoon was in the kitchen, grabbing two beers when the phone started ringing. Hyunseung didn’t think anything of it until after a few moments he realized Doojoon wasn’t making any moves to answer it.
“Um…Doojoon?” he called, “your phone is ringing.”
“Yeah I know,” Doojoon answered in an ‘are you stupid’ kind of voice.
Hyunseung blinked a couple times, the phone still ringing off in Doojoon’s room.
“Do you…uh…want me to answer it for you?” he asked, already standing up from the couch.
“NO!” Doojoon said emphatically, rushing out from the kitchen and shoving a beer into Hyunseung’s hand and pushing him back into the cushions. A beep was heard.
Hey *giggles* we can’t come to the phone, but leave a message and we’ll get back to you (eventually) Doojoon, stop it! Bye-yum!
Hyunseung stared wide-eyed at the still standing Doojoon, who was holding his breath and listening intently to the recording.
“Oh, Doojoon,” was all Hyunseung got out before Doojoon flashed him a warning look and collapsed next to him on the couch.
“I know,” he said wearily. “I know I need to change it. It’s just…since he walked out, it’s the only way I can hear his voice anymore.”
He took a swig from his beer bottle and cast his eyes to the floor. Hyunseung fondled his condensing bottle nervously and tried to think of ways to introduce the much-needed conversation. Finally he took a page from his lover’s book and decided to be completely, stupidly blunt.
“You need to get over it Doojoon. It’s been months.”
“Only one and three days,” Doojoon corrected.
Hyunseung raised an eyebrow and said nothing.
Doojoon sighed heavily.
“I know,” Doojoon said, eyes fixed on some point on the wall past Hyunseung’s head. “Don’t think I don’t it’s just, something won’t let me get over it. I know I can be stronger than this.”
Hyunseung sighed heavily at his friend’s confession.
“Look,” Doojoon said abruptly, causing Hyunseung to start in his seat a little. “No more walking around with my head down. I promise Seung, I’ll shape up. No more crying over him.”
Hyunseung doubted the sincerity of his friend’s words.
So did Doojoon.
****
Hyunseung had great reasons to doubt his friend’s sincerity. Doojoon was head over heels, absolutely, positively, madly in love with Yoseob.
Everyone could see it.
Apparently Yoseob couldn’t.
Doojoon grunted as he lifted a box out of his closet. The day was sunny, perfect weather for a walk, Yoseob would have said. They would have gone to the park, maybe Doojoon would have bought ice cream for the two of them, strawberry for Yoseob. They would have played on the swingset (providing that the swings weren’t already occupied by small children).
Doojoon was inside his apartment cleaning out old and useless junk.
Doojoon walked quickly down the hall and into his living room, praying for his fingers to keep hold of the heavy weight in his hands. Dropping the box with a loud thunk, he stood straight and popped his back, stretching the muscles there.
He pulled the bottom of his wife-beater up to wipe sweat off his forehead and contemplated switching out of blue jeans to shorts before deciding the effort wasn’t worth it. He’d just get dust on his legs anyway.
Doojoon’s eye caught the calendar hanging on the wall by the television and he noticed it was a month late. He walked over and pulled it off the wall, flipping the page over.
And froze.
It was July.
There was a sloppy circle around the 15th and Doojoon remembered Yoseob drawing it in, eyes crinkling in happiness as Doojoon kissed his neck. He had been thinking about what to get Yoseob for their anniversary. He may have taken him to a fancy restaurant, and they could have fed each other over the table. He probably would have driven his lover to the ocean, despite the long drive. Yoseob loved the ocean. He would have put a blanket in the trunk so they could snuggle on the sand wrapped in each other’s arms. They would have watched the sun break the horizon and rise pink in the sky.
Doojoon could have stared at Yoseob’s face light up in that smile he found brighter than the sun.
Doojoon stared at the red circle around the 15th. He stared until his eyes burned, until they blurred, until he was seeing a red blur on an ugly, colorless mosaic and how morbidly funny, he thought, that this was the first piece of art that he could emotionally connect to.
He stared at the red circle and he hated it. Roughly wiping the tears that had secretly slipped dirty tracks down his face with his forearm, Doojoon walked into the kitchen and pulled a black pen from a drawer.
He stared at July 15 one more moment before he felt a sudden swell of anger and with bold ink scratched the day out. He colored the whole box black and felt the adrenaline run in his veins and suddenly his whole body was weak and he took deep breaths but he still felt the misery pushing past the rage and rising, rising, rising up so high that he was drowning and the water was escaping from his eyes again.
Doojoon left the calendar on the counter and hid in bed for the rest of the day.
****
The radio was his enemy.
Six miserable weeks had passed and Doojoon was just as stuck as he seemed to be the morning after he discovered Yoseob was gone.
He still rolled over in the morning and reached for the soft warmth he used to secure himself in.
However today Doojoon tried what Kikwang had suggested: music therapy.
He knew that Kikwang had just made it up. Kikwang always made things up on the spot, but finding someone pathetic enough to believe them was always a challenge. Doojoon decided he was just pathetic and desperate enough to try anything. The fact that it made Kikwang ridiculously happy was a bonus.
So Doojoon pulled out a small boom box, placed it on the kitchen table, and turned it on.
The first song was a love song.
The second song was a love song about dichotomies of love.
The third singer was pleading for their lover to come back.
The forth song was Rainism.
Doojoon liked the forth song.
But apparently Rain had his limits, as endless love song after love song played through his speakers. Words of betrayal, anger, tears, love, devotion, passion…Doojoon listened for an hour and felt worse than he had before trying Kikwang’s therapy.
He listened and he felt the gut wrenching ache of loneliness and sorrow and wanted it to stop.
But he just couldn’t turn off the radio.
****
Doojoon was sitting on his couch, music from the radio playing softly in the background. He stared at the wall.
It needed to stop.
The music needed to stop.
His pain and hurt needed to stop.
His tears needed to stop.
He stared apathetically at the wall and his mind was silent but his heart was screaming.
And a knock sounded at the door.
Doojoon ignored it and instead blinked slowly. A woman sang “please” desperately through the speakers.
The knock came again.
Doojoon lolled his head back and looked towards the door. He willed the person on the other side away.
They didn’t leave.
And the knocking came louder, harder.
Doojoon stood up.
Walked to the door.
Opened it.
The song ended as his eyes hungrily devoured the sight of Yoseob in the threshold. He was sniffling, crying, shaking.
“Doojoon-ah,” Yoseob whimpered.
Doojoon grabbed the boy in his arms and crushed him to his chest. He didn’t know that Yoseob had been hurting as much as he had been. He didn’t know that Junhyung had been Hyunseung’s mirror. He didn’t know that Kikwang had prescribed the same therapy.
He didn’t know that Yoseob couldn’t turn off the radio either.
Doojoon pulled the crying man into his apartment and closed the door.
A new song started.
****
*********
****
And I'm so sick of love songs
So tired of tears
So done with wishin' you were still here
Said I'm so sick of love songs so sad and slow
Why can't I turn off the radio?
A.N: I can’t do it! >< I CAN’T break Dooseob! So instead I made it a vague happy ending and an unexplained angst (cause let’s be honest, how could dooseob ever be NOT perfectly happy in wedding-land?!) Also, I’m on a writing spree and I have no idea why it’s happening but I’m just going to embrace it. So I hope you do as well kkkkkk