Chapter Text
The Voiceless.
Monsters with no voices, stealthily wandering around the human world without a warning, without a sound, a signal of their attack. They’re of the big kind, with large legs and giant fists that could easily demolish a building in under 10 seconds, but they have no warning of when they would strike. No battle cry, no shriek of monstrous origin, nothing . Only the sound of a wind from their swinging fists, and the next moment, a hailstorm of debris would come crashing down.
The Voiceless hated music. The wonderful melodies humans would make, from instruments and from the very voice box existing in their throats, the monsters hated them, despised them. So, it was no brainer as to why the big cities were raided first—especially the big, metropolitan paradises such as Seoul and Tokyo—they were thriving off of music, the bustling energy of upbeat music thrumming through the streets as if the music was the cities’ lifeblood.
That’s the reason why most of the cities were now underground—including Seoul. They deemed the overworld too dangerous due to their silent nature, and progressed to live underground. The Voiceless couldn’t burrow underground, even by forcefully ripping out a chunk of soil, they couldn’t reach the deep levels where Underground Seoul was built on.
Life was hard underground. No sunlight and no sustainable way of getting oxygen without fear of them running out had been a constant worry in every citizen’s life. However, they pulled through in the recent years—scientists found out how to make artificial sunlight that mimicked the warmth of those golden rays, and they also invented an oxygen maker that relied on the air garnered from above, the oxygen from the surface twisting and turning through the complex maze of pipes that would lead underground.
The number one rule of Underground Seoul was tortuous to all, but mostly to him.
No music.
It was as if the government asked him to not breathe. Music was his breath of fresh air, his safe place, where he could frolic around with beats and rhythms, with melodies and cadences to find the sweet spot, in which he could expand that sweet spot into a sweet melody to please the ears of many.
It was as if they asked him to cease existing.
They were asking him, Lee Jihoon of SEVENTEEN, to not make music.
Without music, Jihoon was just…Jihoon. He was nothing without music, a nobody, an ordinary person living amongst other ordinary people. Singers were nothing without music. Their career thrived off music. The constant guilt of not giving the public his works, his magnum opus, that guilt ate him everyday, plaguing his thoughts. Those songs were now just sitting in his inactive laptop, idly waiting for them to be heard by the world.
Jihoon was now sitting on the couch in their dorm (which was unbelievably moved from above ground to below), reading a book. Don’t tell Wonwoo, but he didn’t really like reading. Sure, it was calming from time to time, but it wasn’t his cup of tea to read a vomit of words and plot. He wasn’t a fantasizer, he couldn’t imagine the scenes in his head. He could only imagine scenes if he heard them.
A pair of muscular hands wrapped around his chest, followed by a kiss to his neck. “Hey, Jihoonie.”
“Hi, Cheol.” He sunk into the gentle touch. In return, Seungcheol smiled and walked towards the couch, sitting beside the vocal unit leader.
“You holding up okay?” Jihoon knew that Seungcheol was treading lightly, carefully. Out of all the SEVENTEEN members, it was Jihoon that was the most impacted by the new laws of no music. Sure, it impacted them as a whole, but Jihoon was their music maker, the creator of SEVENTEEN’s tunes that made them famous.
“...To be honest, not really.” Jihoon sighed solemnly, closing the already boring book and setting it on the opposite side, where Seungcheol wasn’t sitting. “It feels like something is empty.”
“Like something is incomplete, yeah?” Seungcheol tilted his head.
“Mm, like that.” Jihoon nodded. In return, the leader smiled and snuggled more into Jihoon, letting the younger lean on his chest.
“Don’t worry Jihoonie. I’m sure everything will be okay. Just…believe in it, okay?”
If music was his air supply, the very air he breathed, then Seungcheol would be the supplier of the oxygen. He, Soonyoung and Jihoon had built their relationship, their friendship all the way back, when they were still training in the green-walled basement. From there, small moments and confessions blossomed their friendship (and their love for each other) even further, and more members joined into the love…tridecagon? It was a messy polyamorous mess.
Eventually, around when they won their first win, they settled their relationships and proclaimed themselves as one, big, polyamorous couple.
Life was great after that—no longer would they have to hide the special moments in their dorms, they could go all out in kisses and hugs. No longer would they have to hide when they’re cuddling another and showering them in affection—pretty much everyone in their dorm would know if someone would lock the door and when someone would make… peculiar noises inside said room.
“Yeah, sure. I hope so.” Jihoon sighed, burrowing himself deeper into the crook of Seungcheol’s neck, the familiar scent of his cologne—a sharp pine and vanilla smell—wafting through the air.
“Where are the others, by the way?”
“Oh, the others? They’re out buying some groceries—at least, I think Jeonghan and Joshua are doing that. The rest are probably somewhere in the arcade.” Seungcheol hummed. “Jus’ you and me, Hoonie.”
Jihoon bit back the urge to squeal. Seungcheol was definitely one of the more clingier members, and one of the most affectionate of the thirteen. For some reason, he had some kind of ability to make Jihoon blush whenever the leader complimented him, especially when he muttered the kind words in a sort of drunken haze. Of course, Seungcheol isn’t drunk now, and if he were, he must’ve had a dozen bottles of Soju now stacked in his room right now.
“Aw, you're getting shy now?” Seungcheol flashed his pearly whites. “Ah, what did I even do to deserve you, Jihoonie?”
“Aish, you’re too affectionate.” The vocal unit leader looked away bashfully, getting overloaded with the heat on his cheeks.
Before Seungcheol opened his mouth to spill out more compliments, the ground underneath them suddenly started to shake, a familiar thumping motion, as if an earthquake was happening. However, this earthquake’s pattern was more consistent, a steady tempo of destruction and demise. The vocal unit leader could only sit there and let realization dawn over him, certainly making him as pale as his platinum blonde hair.
He must’ve subconsciously gripped Seungcheol for safety, as the elder immediately hugged Jihoon closer as the ‘earthquake’ rampaged on.
Then, screams .
“What…what’s happening?” Jihoon whispered.
“That…the rhythm of the thumps…” Seungcheol inferred, not willing to finish the sentence—the two knew damn well of the source of the fearful stomps.
Without sharing a word, the two of them dashed outside of their dorm and looked towards the ground (sky?), and saw the feared monsters. The Voiceless—they were underground , in Underground Seoul.
“How…?” Jihoon whispered in shock. He had only seen them when he was on the surface, when the Voiceless Terror happened. Since then, the image of the monsters had faded from his memory as he distracted himself from them with anything . Cuddling sessions, reading, even cooking. But now…the terror they caused suddenly became fresh in his mind, the emotions from the event 5 years ago suddenly becoming raw.
“I…I don’t know, Jihoonie.” Seungcheol gritted his teeth, clutching the vocal unit leader’s shoulder out of protectiveness, letting his long black-and-platinum hair frame his beautiful, sculptured face. “But, I know that this is bad. We need to check on the others.”
Snapping from his trance, he nodded, letting Seungcheol gently drag him through the streets.
The scene unraveling around them was nothing short of catastrophic . The buildings were getting demolished, people screaming and those who did die had their blood seeping out onto the asphalt, inking the roads in a crimson red. The Voiceless ran around, silent terrors slithering through the streets, decimating building after building, destroying house after house. Jihoon bit back the urge to sob right then and there, as his second home, Seoul, was being decimated in front of his own two eyes for them to see.
“Hey, Jihoon, you still with me?” Seungcheol’s voice snapped him out of his trance.
“Y…yeah. I’m with you.” The vocal unit leader grabbed onto Seungcheol’s hand with a vice grip.
Even if Seungcheol is quite the scaredy-cat, Jihoon could always rely on Seungcheol as a leader and as a lover. Being the eldest of the group and simultaneously the leader of SEVENTEEN, he always had to shoulder the responsibility. He, Soonyoung and Jihoon would meet up on a couple of nights, sleeping together. They would tell each other about their struggles (and, usually one of them would end up crying, mostly Soonyoung) and cuddling their worries away. Leaders gotta stick together, right?
“Jihoon, do you know where we are now?” Once again, Seungcheol’s honey voice snapped Jihoon out of his trance.
“Uhm,” muttered Jihoon, looking around. “It looks like we’re somewhere in Gangnam.”
“I see.”
They walked around for a little bit more, until Seungcheol fell, dragging Jihoon with him.
“Ack!” The elder grunted. “What…”
“What happened, Cheol? What did you trip on?” Jihoon asked as he helped Seungcheol get up.
The hip hop unit leader shrugged, the two of them looking at the ground. There, on the broken asphalt road, laid a ring. One of silver that shone so brightly, even if there was no sunlight to speak of. One that was familiar—the sheen of the ring familiar as ever, artificial light from the artificial sun reflecting off of the metal.
With shaky hands, he slowly crouched down and picked up the shiny object. He wanted the object to not be what he thought it was—alas, his prayers fell on deaf ears.
“Cheol…is this what I think it is?”
“...” Seungcheol said nothing, taking the ring from Jihoon’s dainty hands. With careful fingers, he wiped off the soot and micro debris from the ring, to reveal a sentence engraved in the insides of the ring.
To the man of love, Yoon Jeonghan .
“Jeonghan’s engagement ring?” Jihoon whispered under his breath. He knew that they had two rings. One was their SEVENTEEN ring, one they wore before debut. The other was one they got after the Ode to You tour, when they had enough money to buy thirteen rings to solidify their relationship. Each member had a sentence that the three leaders thought of engraved inside the metal band, including the rest of the members thinking of the leaders’ ring sentences.
“Wait, if Jeonghan’s ring is here, then where is he—”
He didn’t have time to finish his sentence before Seungcheol dropped onto his knees, letting the ring drop from his now open hands.
“Huh—Cheol, what happened?”
“Hoon…look.” He pointed in front of them. His voice was shaky, very odd of the leader. Jihoon was worried about what scene was in front of them.
He had every right to worry.
In front of them laid a horrific scene. Corpses were strewn on the broken road, coloring the highway in a carmine shade. Bags of groceries and bought goods were also scattered around, forgotten and probably abandoned in a hurry. There were traces of an attack by the Voiceless, as shown by the cars lit on fire, as well as the partial ring of fire surrounding the very carcasses. Out of all the horrific things however, the one that scares Jihoon (and to an extent, Seungcheol) the most was a familiar glint.
A glint that sparkled from all eleven dead bodies, located on their pinky fingers.
“No…” He let a pathetic whisper escape his lips. From his glassy vision, he could see one of them had blonde locks, like an angel. He could see another having a ginger shade for their choice of hair color. One by one, as he looked upon their heads, he couldn’t help but sob. Jihoon rarely ever cried.
However, he let himself burst open into tears as he saw one of the member’s faces, eyes open in horror and mouth open in shock, as blood slowly trickled out of his mouth.
He let himself burst open into tears as he shakily walked towards said corpse, holding onto his hair and caressing it, as if he were alive and as if he could feel Jihoon’s rare but comforting touch.
He let himself burst open into tears as Hansol gave no response. No laughter, no reaction. Just a lifeless face. He’s dead. Dead, dead, dead .
He wailed .
He didn’t care if the world would look at Lee Jihoon, Woozi of SEVENTEEN, openly crying—it would certainly make headlines. A wave of patheticness washed over him as he realized that he couldn’t save the others’ demise.
In the now-dystopian city that was Underground Seoul, Lee Jihoon let himself cry.
Jihoon felt as if time had stopped, as he cried and cried, tears cascading down his pale, porcelain skin, mourning for the loss of their dear 11 members. Their lovers, who have stuck with him and Seungcheol ever since the days of the green-walled basement.
They were gone. Gone, gone, they were gone, gonegonegonegone—
… they will never come back.
He was so wallowed in his own sadness that he didn’t notice Seungcheol gripping onto his shoulder. Jihoon only noticed when the elder pressed a kiss on the back of his head.
There’s so many voices.
“Hey, Jihoon…?” His voice was somber, sorrowful. Jihoon turned to face Seungcheol, and he too, had puffy eyes, fresh off crying silently. At least Seungcheol cried silently—Jihoon felt ashamed that he cried loudly.
“...Yeah?” The vocal unit’s leader rasped out. He winced at how raspy it was.
“Are you okay?” Jihoon knew Seungcheol all too well, he wouldn’t be saying that to Jihoon, seeing as he clearly heard his cries. But, that did give Jihoon a bit of breathing room to stay silent for a moment.
“...No.” It was rare for Jihoon to confess that he wasn’t feeling well. It was a nasty habit of his, hiding away his struggles until someone found him at the brink of passing out every 5 seconds.
There’s so many voices.
“It’s okay Jihoon. They’re going to be okay, we’re going to be okay, we—” Seungcheol choked back a sob. The mantras of ‘it’s okay’, the coping didn’t help, especially when they were kneeling in front of their lovers’ dead bodies. Jihoon could only softly caress Seungcheol’s cheeks, letting the ever-so resilient and strong leader break down in front of him.
There’s so many voices.
It only took a scream of his name, and the motion of a push for his world to crumble.
“JIHOON!” It happened so fast. He felt the swift motion of someone pushing him out of the way, and then a bright flash of light, a shard of magical energy directed at where he once kneeled.
The vocal unit leader’s fall was cushioned by Jeonghan’s dead body— mildly gross . However, he didn’t mind. All his eyes, his senses focused on the scene that quickly unfolded in front of him.
Seungcheol’s body was suspended in mid-air, by a shard of a purple crystal that penetrated through his gut, blood dripping, rolling down the shard and painting the canvas that was the asphalt in a beautiful but terrifying shade of crimson. His eyes, they morphed from a solemn expression to one of shock and distress, mouth gaped open, the aftermath of saying a name out loud. His arms were slightly folded, the aftermath of pushing someone out of the way.
If it was play-pretend, he would snicker out that he was always a self-sacrificial idiot.
But this wasn’t play-pretend. This wasn’t a nightmare. This was a nightmare come true.
He was too late. There’s so many voices.
You’re pathetic! Why didn’t you save him?
Dead, dead! You failed to save him, you pathetic waste of space!
Why did you let him die?
Hah, imagine being pushed away for them to die! Idiot.
Seungcheol, Seungcheol . His mind only repeated his name, like a mantra, a spell. He thought, if he said his name enough times, he would bring him back to life.
Once again, his prayers fell on deaf ears.
There’s so many voices.
“Jihoon…” He hacked out, blood spurting onto the asphalt below him. It took the voice of a man on Death’s door to get Jihoon moving.
“Seungcheol!” He ran, desperate steps getting him closer to the dying man.
“Jihoon—” Seungcheol was cut short as another shard of purple narrowly missed Jihoon and stabbed the SEVENTEEN leader instead.
“Cheol…why? Why?! ” He couldn’t help but cry out. It was rare that Jihoon snapped. He was mostly the calm one, but he couldn’t help screaming out in anger.
“...I had to.” With a shaky limb, cold but warm hands held onto Jihoon’s cheek. “I can’t…can’t let the music of SEVENTEEN die just like that.”
“Wh…What do you mean?”
“Jihoon…you were the one that brought our music to life. Our music creator—our universe factory.” Seungcheol smiled, but it was a bittersweet one. Yet, it brought some comfort to the platinum-blonde’s heart. “I can’t…I can’t let you die. Who’ll make music for the world to hear? Who’ll CARATS wait for?”
“They’re waiting for all of you!” His cry was pitiful. “They’re waiting for all of us, Choi Seungcheol. You can’t just, sacrifice yourself for my own good. Who would I cuddle with now? Who would I hold when I’m having nightmares of this catastrophe? Who would sing with me on stage, as we give the world our tunes and melodies? I would rather die with you and reunite with the others in heaven than seeing you die in front of me.”
“...” Seungcheol was silent. “It’s better to know that there was a survivor of SEVENTEEN rather than none.”
“But—what about me?!” Jihoon sobbed out. His eyes burned from the recent breakdown, his throat hurt from the screaming and crying, but he didn’t care. Pure, unbridled emotion was carrying him through the delicate threads of life, of fate that was cruel and unforgiving.
There’s so many voices.
“It’s okay, Jihoon—” Seungcheol didn’t have time to respond, as Jihoon suddenly felt a heavy weight on his lower half, crushing his legs.
“ AGH! ” Jihoon cried out, head whipping to his back to see a large chunk of debris had fallen on his legs, as well as the lower half of his spinal cord .
Shit.
“Jihoon!” Seungcheol outstretched a weak hand, before being cut off by another shard gutting him, this time through the heart.
“CHEOL!” Jihoon cried out, but to no avail. The next sight of Seungcheol’s eyes was dead. Lifeless, void, dead . The blow to the heart must be fatal.
For the second time that day, he broke down.
He didn’t care that a menacing and familiar shadow loomed over him, bringing up a leg to stomp on Jihoon’s pathetically wounded and frail body.
There’s so many voices—wait.
Jihoon’s ears perked up. Besides the sound of demolition and despair, he could hear something else. A familiar tune, followed by a blinding light so bright that Jihoon had to cover his eyes.
In the moment of brightness, his ears suddenly remembered the tune.
Was that…HOT ?
For a momentary second, Jihoon also felt his legs…disappearing. Like, they were being bit off. Huh—odd.
When the light dimmed, Jihoon opened his eyes to see that the bodies of the other members were gone, so was Seungcheol’s once gutted body, however there was a man in place. His hair was a mix of onyx black and platinum with one of the side bangs being braided, strands flowing in the harsh wind. He had an off-shoulder cape dyed in white, held together with a 4-pointed star pendant. He also donned carmine balloon sleeves that neatly wrapped his arms, accented with a golden band near his wrist, one of his hands wearing a 3-finger glove, and another with nothing, except the familiar glint of a ring on his pinky and his ring finger. Along with that, he had a sleeveless turtleneck as well as almost medieval-like knightly boots, and on the aforementioned hair was a cowboy hat.
Jihoon was about to call towards the man, before he felt his body being scooped up by another man, this time with flowy blonde hair. He analyzed his newfound hero—the aforementioned blonde hair being tied in a ponytail and having a flower crown sitting on his head. His outfit seemed more dainty than the first one, He had a long, translucent billowing cape that looked like it was made out of mesh, or some translucent silk, with puffy sleeves and leggings as well as high-heeled boots, all in a lavender-baby pink-pale blue combo.
As Jihoon looked up, he felt as if the world had stopped for a second time. The eyes that were looking back at him, eyes of olive green and a deep forest shade, they held compassion. Love. Familiarity . It was as if the eyes were about to burst out rivers of tears.
Jihoon was also about to, but he pushed the urge to break down.
“Hi, Jihoon.” A tender soft voice, honey-smooth and calming went into his ears.
“...Jeonghan? Is that…really you?” Jihoon brought up a bloody hand to Jeonghan’s cheek. The smile—it was the same as ever. The eyes—they were filled with as much love and compassion as they were before.
“Miss me, Ji?” Jeonghan chuckled, a mix of adoration and trickery in the voice. Oh, Jihoon could cry right now.
“Jeonghan…Hannie…I—” Jihoon was cut off when Jeonghan landed on a high-rise building, immediately enveloped the vocal unit leader in a hug.
“Hi, Ji.” His whisper tingled Jihoon’s senses in all the right ways. “I’m home.”
There’s so many voices. The voice—the voice of a song.