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Junhui wakes up feeling tingly. Not quite in the pins-and-needles way, or in the aftershocks of an electrocution way (not that he’s experienced that). Not quite in the sensitive skin way, either, although that’s probably the closest way to describe it.
He makes his way to the kitchen while still thinking about the tingles.
Mingyu is already there, standing shirtless and with his back to Jun as he cooks something on the stove.
’I still feel tingly,’ Jun thinks.
“That probably means you’re horny,” Mingyu says without turning around.
Jun pauses where he was about to place a plate on the kitchen counter to sneak some of Mingyu’s breakfast. “What?”
“The tingles,” Mingyu clarifies.
Jun flounders. “I said that out loud?”
Mingyu turns and raises an eyebrow at him. “Evidently,” he says. He holds a hand out. “Give me your plate, then, you’re not subtle.”
Jun smiles sheepishly and passes it over. ’Thank God for househusband Mingyu,” he thinks.
Mingyu fumbles with the plate. “What?” he says. “How did you do that?”
Jun blinks. “Do what?”
Mingyu stares at him. “You spoke,” he says slowly. “Without opening your mouth.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Jun says, now just as confused.
“Yes you did,” Mingyu says. “Hey, you called me a househusband,” he continues, affronted.
“I didn’t say that,” Jun argues. ’I thought it.’
“Did Jeonghan teach you what gaslighting means, too?” Mingyu asks, eyes narrowed. He pronounces the English word clunkily, heavy on his tongue.
Jun has no idea what that means. He continues to stare at Mingyu until the smell of burning reaches them and Mingyu turns around, panicked.
“Oh, shit!”
Jun takes the opportunity to sidle away to the dining table. ’I must be going mental, he thinks.
Joshua walks in just as he thinks that, also shirtless, and says something in English before stopping sharp. He says something else, but it’s all unintelligible to Jun at 7am.
“Are you high?” Mingyu says across the room. “He’s not speaking English.”
Joshua’s gaze flickers between the two of them, face pinched into a confused expression. “Yes he is. He said he thinks he’s going mental.”
Mingyu places two plates on the dining table and then puts his hands on his hips. “No, he said that in Korean.”
Jun slowly reaches out and slides his plate towards himself, beginning to eat it while Mingyu and Joshua continue their standdown.
“Is this some sort of prank?” Joshua asks. “It’s not funny, you know I don’t like it when you make fun of my Korean.”
Jun continues to eat and chokes on a noodle he eats too fast. Someone from behind hits him hard on the back and then appears in front of him. Minghao.
‘Why is everyone shirtless this morning?’ he thinks.
Minghao gives him a quick glance. “You know it’s rude to speak Chinese to people who don’t speak Chinese,” he says.
“He did it again!” Joshua shouts at the same time, pointing wildly to Jun.
Jun pauses and points one of the chopsticks in his hand towards himself. “Me?” he asks, mouth still half-full. “I’ve been eating this whole time.”
Joshua flails wildly. “What is going on this morning?”
Minghao looks back at the three of them from in front of the fridge. “Do I even want to know?”
Joshua runs his hands through his hair. Jun swallows the remnants of his breakfast.
’Only Mingyu and Joshua losing it,’ he thinks.
Minghao levels him with an exasperated look.
“I am not losing it!” Mingyu and Joshua say at the same time, both sounding equally and concerningly strangled.
Minghao looks at them both weirdly. “You understood that?”
Mingyu throws his hands up in the air. “He’s literally speaking Korean! Of course I do!”
“He’s not speaking fucking...oh my God!” Joshua says.
Jun slides his empty plate into the middle of the table where Mingyu takes a break from his mental breakdown to pick it up and take it to the dishwasher.
Minghao moves over to push Joshua into a seat and then takes one himself. Not wanting to be left out, Mingyu joins them after completing his house-husbandly duties.
“Joshua,” he says plainly. “You keep hearing Jun speak English, correct?”
Joshua nods, apparently too emotionally exhausted to even utter another word.
“Mingyu,” Minghao says, moving around the table. “Korean?”
“Yes,” Mingyu says.
Minghao nods thoughtfully. “I hear Chinese.” He pauses. “Jun?”
“I literally am not speaking,” Jun says. “I’ve barely said a word all morning, they just keep acting like I have.”
The three of them fall silent, thinking.
“Hey, why does this look like the start of some weird porn?” someone suddenly says loudly, breaking the first peace of the whole morning.
’Too many shirtless men. Wait, does that make it me getting fucked?”
Minghao, Mingyu and Joshua all start speaking at once.
Chan, who was the maker of the porn comment, breaks into snorting giggles and holds out a hand for Jun to high-five. Jun does so despite not knowing what is suddenly so funny.
“You’re definitely the most submissive here,” Chan says. “So I guess so.”
Jun sighs. “Okay, first of all your promised you wouldn’t say anything, and second of all, have you guys turned fucking psychic or something? Because I did not say that out loud.”
All four of them stare at him with varying levels of disbelief.
“I didn’t!” Jun says desperately. “I would not make a comment about getting fucked by you guys out loud.” He stops to think. Except just now, that doesn’t count,” he rectifies.
’Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it.’
“Oh, fuck,” Mingyu says. “We’re actually fucking psychic.”
*
Jun sits awkwardly on the sofa with 12 men staring at him. Chan’s porn comment springs to mind and he tries desperately to tamp it down with minimal success, judging by the look of glee on Chan’s face and the look of weirded-out concern on some of the others.
“So...we can all read Jun’s thoughts?” Seungcheol asks.
“But that doesn’t make any sense,” says Wonwoo, who until then had been sitting and looking very serious. “Jun wouldn’t think in Korean. Definitely not English.”
“Can confirm that I think in Chinese,” Jun says. ’I barely know any English, why would I think in English?
Seungkwan frowns. “We all heard that, right?”
Everyone nods.
“Joshua, Minghao, what did you hear?” Wonwoo asks, leaning forward to see them both.
“He said he barely knows any English, so why would he think in it,” Joshua says. “Except he said it in English.”
Minghao nods in agreement.
“Okay,” Jun says, feeling a little dissected. “Can we please not discuss my literal thoughts out loud?”
Wonwoo narrows his eyes and ignores him. “I think we can only hear his surface level thoughts. Otherwise all we would hear is Jun talking non-stop.”
“That’s good, right?” Jun asks. “That must be good.”
Wonwoo smiles. “It’s good.”
“It means we probably won’t reveal any major secrets of yours unless you start thinking about them,” Seungcheol adds, before immediately realising that that was Not A Good Thing To Say.
Jun’s mind immediately springs to several scenarios at once.
“Okay,” Jihoon sighs. “I did not need to know about what you and Yanan got up to backstage of Inkigayo.”
Jun squeaks. “We didn’t do anything!”
“Please, please, stop thinking about it,” Vernon says, looking incredibly pained. “You know I think visually.”
Everyone pauses to digest that.
“Does that mean…” Seungkwan begins.
“Oh my God,” Jun says, burying his flaming face in his hands.
Wonwoo clears his throat and when Jun looks back up his cheeks are a little pink. “What we really need to think about is whether we are the only people who can hear-” he glances towards Vernon, “-or see, I suppose, Jun’s thoughts.”
Jun has the horrible thought of a fan overhearing one of his more NFSIL (not safe for idol life) thoughts and cringes.
“Yeah, exactly,” Wonwoo says.
Seungcheol sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Younghwan will be here soon to take us to today’s photoshoot. Everyone get ready and we’ll take it from there.”
Everyone mumbles their assent and Jun nods quietly.
Seungcheol grimaces a little at Jun. “I’m sorry,” he says. “This must feel quite invasive.”
Jun shrugs and doesn’t say anything but he knows his thoughts do it for him by the slight frown that appears on Seungcheol’s face.
“We’ll figure it out,” he says, clapping Jun on the shoulder. Jun waits until everyone has left the room and then exhales sharply, trying out one of Minghao’s meditation techniques to calm himself down. It’ll be fine.
*
Jun figures out a partial solution while getting dressed when he trips over a pair of headphones on the floor.
He suggests it to Seungcheol.
“If I’m listening to music, then you’ll just hear me thinking about the music and not something...more personal,” he says.
Seungcheol appraises the idea. “It won’t work all day,” he says. “But it could work for time alone. I’ll tap you if you need to take them off.”
Jun smiles gratefully and slides the headphones on, picking a playlist and putting it on repeat before sitting down on the couch to wait for their manager to arrive. He resists the urge to look at his phone and instead sits with his head back and eyes shut, his only focus being the music. Like a weird sort of sensory deprivation.
’Sexy,’ he thinks. ’No! Bad Jun!’
He makes it through three songs before there’s a tap on his arm and he reluctantly removes the headphones.
“He’s just arrived,” Seungcheol says. “I saw him through the window.”
Jun nods nervously and wrings his hands in his lap, headphones around his neck and the music still faintly playing.
“Hey,” Jihoon says. “Just think something really offensive about him.”
Jun stares. “What if he hears me?” he hisses back.
Jihoon shrugs in a not-my-problem sort of way.
Jun doesn’t want to but he has to admit that it’s probably the most effective method, especially since he won’t exactly be looking at Jun to notice if he opens his mouth or not when he speaks. Plus, Jun has a bit of a reputation for saying weird shit, he probably wouldn’t bat an eye if he started saying his every thought.
The door swings open and Jun panics when he catches sight of Younghwan.
’Younghwan, that haircut makes you look 10 years older than you actually are,’ he blurts out in his head.
Seokmin winces next to him. “Ouch, harsh,” he says.
’Jihoon said offensive!’ Jun thinks back desperately.
He holds his breath and...nothing happens.
“Alright everyone, let’s go,” Younghwan says. “You alright Jun, you’re looking a little pale?”
“Fine,” Jun says, letting out a breath in a whoosh. “Brilliant. Let’s go.”
*
The photoshoot is so hectic that Jun almost forgets that the rest of Seventeen can hear his every thought. It also confirms that it is only Seventeen, since Jun has mentally sworn at no less than three makeup artists who poked him in the eye with a mascara wand and not a single one commented on it. So. Seventeen only.
This just would happen to them, wouldn’t it?
The problem begins arising again, however, when the staff drop them off at the studio for an unaccompanied dance practice.
“Jun,” Soonyoung says after only half an hour of practice. “Will you please try to stop thinking about how sweaty Minghao is? It's making me feel a little ill.”
“It’s not my fault I’m sweaty,” Minghao grumbles, wiping his forehead with the hem of his shirt.
Jun catches sight of his stomach in the mirror and can’t control the thought that comes.
’I wish I looked like that.’
Minghao pauses and meets his eyes in the mirror. Jun immediately averts his gaze only to meet Soonyoung’s eyes in the mirror, him with one eyebrow quirked up.
Jun clears his throat. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m trying.”
Soonyoung’s gaze visibly softens. “I know,” he says. He offers a sympathetic smile. “Do you want to miss this practice?”
It’s probably for the best, and Jun knows that, but he can’t help the way his heart falls to his stomach.
’They don’t want me here.’
“No!” Soonyoung says. “That’s not it!” He looks around desperately for some help.
“What Soonyoung means,” Wonwoo says, stepping up towards Jun and placing a hand on his shoulder, “Is that we don’t mind if you feel uncomfortable with us hearing everything you think and want to go home. We want you here.” He squeezes his shoulder. “Promise.”
Jun bites his lip. “But we don’t know how long this is going to last,” he says, voicing everyone else’s thoughts. “I can’t sit it out indefinitely.”
Everyone quietens. They had all been thinking it, but no one had wanted to say it.
“Can you think of anything that might have caused this?” Jeonghan asks.
Jun racks his brain. “I - I don’t know.”
“Didn’t you say you felt tingly earlier?” Mingyu pipes up. “Do you still?”
“Huh,” Jun says. Now he mentions it, he does. A low thrum of...tinglyness...right underneath his skin. “Yeah,” he admits.
Chan looks skeptical. “Are you sure that doesn’t just mean you’re -”
“I’m not horny,” Jun interrupts, clasping his hands together in front of his chest like he’s praying. “Okay?”
Chan’s mouth shuts with an audible click. “Okay,” he says. “Proceed.”
“Maybe it’s just an allergy,” Jihoon offers. “Didn’t you start using a new shower gel yesterday?”
Everyone comes to the conclusion at the same time.
“Practice cancelled,” Seungcheol says. “Back to the dorm. Now.”
*
Jun feels a little like a sardine as everyone tries to crowd in the bathroom at once.
“Which one is it?” Soonyoung, who somehow made it to the front instead of somehow who knows what they’re looking for, asks.
“The mandarin orange one,” Jun says.
There’s some clattering and then an avalanche of bottles fall over.
“Sorry,” Soonyoung says sheepishly. He holds up a bottle. “This one?”
Jun nods.
Soonyoung squints. “...So what exactly am I looking for?”
“For the love of God, let’s move to the kitchen,” Jeonghan says from the back of the pile, so far back that he’s not even in the bathroom. “This isn’t going to work.”
Jun breathes a sigh of relief as he wiggles out of the compact space, glad he didn’t start thinking inappropriate thoughts while pressing ass and chest against his best friends.
“We’ll pretend we didn’t hear that,” Seokmin mutters.
They file through to the kitchen and Soonyoung places the bottle upright directly in the middle of the table. Seungcheol reaches out to examine it.
“There’s something up with the label,” he says.
Jun snatches the bottle. “Let me see that.”
It takes him a moment to see what Seunghceol saw, but then he feels goosebumps appear on his arms.
GOT YOU GOT YOU GOT YOU GOT YOU GOT YOU GOT YOU GOT YOU GOT YOU GOT YOU GOT YOU GOT YOU GOT YOU GOT YOU GOT YOU GOT YOU GOT YOU GOT YOU GOT YOU GOT YOU GOT YOU GOT YOU GOT YOU GOT YOU GOT
Jun throws the bottle down and tries to calm his increasingly erratic breathing.
“Do you think he absorbed it into his skin?” Seungkwan asks. “Skin’s porous.”
“But soap doesn’t get absorbed,” Wonwoo points out.
“It’s a shower gel that made us all psychic and you’re drawing the line at science?” Seungkwan says snippily. “In case you haven’t noticed, none of this makes any sense!”
’They’re arguing because of me. Fuck.’
Seungkwan immediately deflates. “No. I’m sorry, Jun. I just think we should consider all avenues, that’s all. No one’s mad.”
“Why would Jun using a shower gel make us all psychic?” Jihoon muses. “Did anyone else use it?”
Everyone shakes their head.
“Maybe it didn’t make us psychic,” Wonwoo says. “Maybe it just made Jun’s thoughts external, or something?”
“Okay,” Jun says, voice slightly shaky. “Does it really matter what exactly it did? How do we undo it?”
Wonwoo sighs and picks up the bottle. “It doesn’t say anything else,” he says, examining it. “I guess you should go have a shower and see if you can sleep it off.”
“I don’t think I can sleep anything off at 3pm,” Jun says, feeling slightly sick.
“Do you want-” Minghao begins. “Ah, nevermind.”
“What?” Jun asks. “What?” he says again, but in Chinese to make the conversation a little more private.
“I was going to ask if you want me to shower with you,” Minghao says. “But I mean…”
“Please!” Jun says.
Minghao blinks surprised, but smiles softly at Jun. “Okay,” he says. “C’mon.”
Jun figures everyone else probably heard enough of his thoughts to figure out what’s going on and so turns to follow Minghao without saying anything, the events of the day beginning to weigh on him a little.
Minghao turns on the shower as Jun gets undressed and then follows him in. Jun tries to relax under the stream of warm water.
“I’ll wash your hair,” Minghao says, already uncapping his own shampoo.
Jun just hums and leans into the gentle massage of Minghao’s fingers through his hair.
“Are you okay?” Minghao asks quietly. “You’ve been thinking about some worrying things today.”
Jun’s shoulders slump slightly.
“We all love you, Jun,” Minghao continues. “So much.” He presses a brief kiss to the damp skin of Jun’s shoulder. “Don’t think we feel burdened by you, okay?”
Jun feels tears sting his eyes. The water disguises them but Minghao catches his train of thought anyway and hugs him from behind. It should be uncomfortable, since they’re both naked, but Jun just finds it therapeutic to finally cry about the incredibly invasive predicament he’s found himself in.
“I know,” Minghao soothes, beginning to rinse his hair. “I’m sorry if we heard anything you didn’t want us to hear.”
Jun shrugs. “You know everything there is to know about me anyway,” he jokes.
Minghao doesn’t take the bait. “That’s not the same as knowing your every thought.”
“It wasn’t really my every thought,” Jun says, channeling his inner Wonwoo.
Minghao lathers his hair in conditioner. “I know.”
They fall into a companionable silence. Minghao hands over his own shower gel for Jun to use and Jun finds that being surrounded by just everything Minghao is very relaxing.
“I think I might have upset Joshua,” Jun says into the stream of water.
“You didn’t upset him,” Minghao says simply, an arm still curled around Jun’s waist. “It’s just the situation.”
’So, me’ Jun thinks.
Minghao hits him. “Not you,” he reiterates. “It’s difficult to hear someone speak in your native language and respond in your second one instead. You know he gets a little insecure in his Korean. Just like we do.” He squeezes Jun’s waist. “It’s not your fault.”
“I used a cursed shower gel,” Jun argues. “How is this not my fault?”
“In what world could you have expected this to happen?” Minghao argues, and Jun can’t exactly fault the logic in that.
Minghao turns the water off and pushes Jun out, handing him a towel. Jun dries himself robotically and ties the towel around his waist.
“Let’s go to my room,” Minghao suggests. “We should probably wash your bedding.”
Jun nods.
They lie together in Minghao’s bed, Minghao ensuring there’s as many points of contact as possible.
“We’ll talk more about today with the others,” Minghao says. “But only once this is solved. Okay?” He holds out a pinky finger.
Jun feels a smile crawl onto his face. “Okay.”
’I love him.’
Minghao smiles. “I love you too.”
*
Jun wakes with a start to see it’s dark out. Minghao is still asleep next to him and he can hear the general noises of there being far too many people on the floor than actually live there.
He shakes Minghao awake.
“Ugh, what?” Minghao says into his pillow.
“Hao!” Jun whines. “Is it fixed?”
As if remembering why, exactly, he’s in bed with Jun, Minghao sits up abruptly. “Think something,” he orders.
’Your hair looks like a bird's nest,’ Jun thinks.
Minghao’s face remains blank. “I didn’t hear anything.”
Jun grins and throws the blankets away, rushing into the kitchen.
’I fucked Yanan backstage of Inkigayo,’, he thinks loudly.
No one flinches.
“It’s fixed!” he yells. The rest of Seventeen burst into cheers loud enough that they’ll probably get a noise complaint. Jun spots a pile of folded laundry on the table and smiles, knowing that he’ll have to thank Seungkwan later.
But first, a very important group hug.