Jaejoong doesn’t like a lot of places they go, not because the sights aren’t beautiful, or because the food is unfamiliar, it isn’t even because he can’t understand the language.  He doesn’t like the crowds that seem to form every time they even move a pinky, he doesn’t like the way they swarm and move and close in until they are so tightly enclosed around him that he feels like he’ll never be able to breathe again.  He doesn’t like the way they sway, and step, and move right along with him; blocking his path, following so closely behind him they are practically stepping all over the heels of his shoes.  He doesn’t like the clammy warmth of their dirty hands grabbing and pulling and groping all over his body; pulling at his clothes, ripping at his bag, yelling in his ears, breathing harshly and deeply and wetly down his neck. 

 

The massive amount of girls with their high pitched whiney screams, and their vicious ninja-like hands cause this unnatural fear to pulse through him every time he has to enter an airport.  He feels locked and confined and so afraid that sometimes he can’t control his shaking.  He zones in and out of thought; often times he loses himself so deeply within the confines of his mind trying to fight of the overwhelming fear that he doesn’t even realize he’s on the plane until they’ve been in the air for 20 minutes already.  He tries not to allow the fact that airports tend to make him black out affect his fear of them even more; but it does.  

 

He tries to hide his fear, mask the haunted look in his eyes by low riding hats and bigger than life sunglasses that are so tinted that sometimes he can’t even see but a few feet in front of his face.  He tries to mask the shaking hands by shoving them in his pockets, or focusing on his phone so intently that he has to force the shaking to stop so he can type of a pointless text message or 500 of them.  He starts to wear clothes that is baggier, more layers, heavy coats; no one questions his odd airport fashion senses because he still looks delectable and that’s all that anyone cares about.  He shoves headphones over his ears and blasts the music so loud that he wonders if he’ll start to lose his hearing one of these days; but then he thinks about all the screaming fans and thinks he’s better off with the music. 

 

He doesn’t have a way to ward off the hands and the ripping and the pulling.  He can’t hide from the groping fingers that start to latch on longer, hold on tighter, pull with more strength that he starts to get bruises and cuts.  He starts to move closer to managers and body guards and security hoping they’ll shield and block him from the fans; but they still manage to barge their way in and so he starts to lose sleep over it.  He develops nightmares that wake him up in the middle of the night, scream on his lips and wild eyes.  He starts not being able to sleep, and the fear of airports and crowded secluded areas continues to grow and expand and worsen.  He starts to get physically sick at the mere thought of having to travel by plane; the shaking gets so bad that he has to shove unsteady hands into the deep pockets of his three sizes too big jackets.  He sweats and shakes and coughs; trying to cover up the fear.  He pulls his hat lower, the sunglasses get bigger in size; all attempts to hide fearful eyes and the dull paleness of his face when it loses color at the sight of the crowds. 

 

He forgets trying to get help from hired hands or his managers that are often times too caught up in their phones to even spare him a side glance.  So he shuffles closer and closer to Yunho, each new time they enter an airport the distance between them lessens.  He doesn’t rush it because he doesn’t want the other to notice, doesn’t want s to realize one of his biggest weaknesses; he doesn’t want to be a burden or a nuisance to the already stressed out leader.  But he seeks out the comfort and strength that seems to radiate off the bigger male anyways, unable to take it anymore.  Eventually he makes it close enough to touch Yunho, but he doesn’t dare to reach out because that would start a chain reaction of unpleasant affairs and scandalous articles, he’s tired of lectures and screaming one-sided conversations with management. 

 

But then he forgets himself, when there is a moment that a fan grabs onto the ends of his hair at the base of his neck and pulls so hard that he literally stumbles backwards with the force, tripping over his feet in his hast to get away from the grabbing hands.   His hand blindly reaches out towards Yunho and he pulls so roughly on Yunho’s hood that he stumbles backwards as well; he turns around ready to snap at Jaejoong all annoyed eyes and open mouthed.  But in a matter of moments; he’s a blur of angry eyes and protective arms, pushing at fans and muttering curse words Jaejoong’s never heard from his mouth before.  Yunho wraps his arms around him pulling him into the warmth of his side, and he shields him all the way to the car; he’s sharp words as he pushes through fans, and he’s soft hands as he maneuvers him through the crowd.  

 

He hears Yunho cursing at security under his breath, but he just hides deeper into his side and allows himself to be basically escorted to their car.  He feels more hands against his arm for a second and he shakes, tears in the corners of his eyes – but then suddenly Yunho is pushing at the hands and turning blazing eyes on the fans; no longer worried about appearance but more fearful for the state of .  Yunho basically lifts him into the back of the van, hopping in and all but slamming the door shut before snapping at the driver to just “go damn it, go!”

 

Then he barely has a moment to breathe deeply enough to fill his lungs, before Yunho is pushing the hat of his head and batting the sunglasses to the floor.  There are warm hands on his cheeks, and the soft eyes of the bigger male are so close that he has trouble breathing for an entirely different reason.  He’s blind sides by Yunho’s masculine beauty for a moment, but Yunho is all worried hands and tender touches.  His hands shake for a moment, and a single tear falls from weary eyes. 

 

Jaejoong hears Yoochun’s worried voice from over his shoulder questioning Yunho but he can’t really make out the words, because his ears feel clogged and fuzzy; his head is circling around on itself and he’s overwhelmed with the urge to close his eyes and sleep forever.  A strong hand clasps on his shoulder, and he knows its Changmin; the long fingers, firm grip and blazing heat an instant give away.  The hand doesn’t move and he finds himself calming down a little more with someone else to ground him; something else to think about because they still haven’t made it out of the parking lot and he can hear the fans banging against the car, shaking it roughly, screaming so loudly that even through the closed doors and windows it sounds as if they aren’t but a millimeter away.  They’re wild and uncontrolled and for a moment he fears that they will pound right through the glass windows and pull at him again; his breathe catches and a whine from deep within his throat bubbles out unchecked. 

 

“It’s okay,” Yunho soothes softly soft fingers running over the curve of his jaw, his voice warm and soothing.  His touch is something solid that Jaejoong can latch onto, something that pulls him out of his own fearful mind and makes him realize where he is.  He nods slowly, reaching a much steadier hand up to clasp over Changmin’s and flashes Yunho a soft but shaky smile.  Yoochun drops a wet but warm kiss on his cheek catching the tips of Yunho’s fingers as well, Changmin flips his hand over and links their fingers squeezing tightly, Yunho smiles at him eyes warm and bright, Junsu laughs deeply and Jaejoong feels himself melt into the seat relaxing finally; closing his eyes and forgetting everything but s surrounding him. 

 

The crowds disappear, the screaming dies out, the shaking stops and he can breathe again; his hands still shake a little, but he knows they won’t stop entirely until he’s within the safety of their hotel room with a lit cigarette in his hand.  But in this moment, he’s okay because he’d forgotten for a while that hiding his weaknesses is a foolish thing; because s give him strength when he has none, they ground him when he’s floating into the clouds, and they hold him up when he’s unable to stand.