Although he hadn’t expected to wake up and discover Jaejoong to be gone, he couldn’t find himself the least bit surprised. 

After the way things had unfolded...  

His head was still kind of reeling. What had prompted that? Yet once again his head provided him with ghosts of memories past, the very small, timid version of Jaejoong as a child who had nearly bit his head off for a question he had only began to ask.  

The nausea drove him from bed, he had to make sure. Perhaps Jaejoong was there? In the shower or living room or... 

His apartment was as empty as it usually was, there was nothing to prove anyone had even been there except for the dishes drying in the rack and the containers he found in the microwave. 

It was a sweet gesture, though that still didn’t take away from the fact that Kim Jaejoong was throwing him the most violent mixed signals he had ever come across. He wasn’t the object of those mixed signals though, rather it was some deep-seated self-hatred that had probably been beat into him by his parents- his father at least for a long time.  

Back tracking toward his room he snatched his phone from the nightstand, fingers idly brushing over one of the extra blankets piled onto the space. 

Yunho wasn’t worried when Jaejoong didn’t answer his first call, or the second. 

After all, he didn’t know what time the blonde had left, it was horrifically early, so it might have been a while- maybe he was asleep? 

But the third and fourth calls went ignored and something heavy settled in his chest. He didn’t know, he realized, where Jaejoong lived. 

“Pick up,” he urged as though speaking to the phone as it rang would make a difference. 

It didn’t, and after the fifth call Jaejoong’s phone began going straight to voicemail. 

“Jaejoong-ah,” he spoke, too fondly, too softly like he was speaking to a frightened doe, “It’s still raining and it’s early... Did you make it home safely? I’m sorry if last night was uncomfortable for you, but I do hope we can meet up again... talk maybe? I’ll call you later.” 

He resisted the urge, barely, to leave voicemail after voicemail until Jaejoong took the hint and called him back.  

Twenty minutes passed. 

Then an hour did.  

Yunho in that time had been rather unsuccessful in reigning himself in. He could hardly remember the last time he had any type of attack. Panic, anxiety- it must have been high school, maybe early university?  

The heavy feeling settling in his chest was familiar in the worst sort of way possible. He pressed his hand to his chest, massaging along his sternum with one hand as he walked toward his kitchen. 

One handedly it was easy to put on the electric tea kettle, fetch a mug and a bag of mint tea. It wouldn’t help, but the familiar smell might have tricked his mind into thinking it helped. 

While he waited, he scrolled through his contacts, phone clattering to the counter loudly as he pressed at the screen until the hollow ringing filled the space of the kitchen. 

“You son of a ,” he snarled quietly, bending forward at the waist so he could press his forehead to the cool marble.  

“’lo? S’only 6, .” 

The alpha drew in a ragged breath, it made an ugly sound, half a gasp, half a dry sob that clawed at his throat and burned. 

“Holy , are you dying?" Funny, Changmin almost sounded like he cared. 

“Get over here, or I will have you murdered in your sleep.” 

“Yunho-” 

“Now!” he snapped, voice raising far beyond a point of necessity as he ended the call.  

This did not happen to him. Things did not spiral out of the scope of his control, ever.  

But he couldn’t even keep one little omega safe, couldn’t pick out the right words to soothe him when he had already known there was trauma in the boy. The evening had spiraled beyond his grasp anyway, despite the warnings to be careful, he hadn’t been to helpless to fix a problem in a long time.  

-----

The music is loud, it blares from his laptop that is perched hazardously on the edge of his bed, about a questionable breath away from falling and shattering. 

He usually isn’t so reckless, he works part time to buy himself what he has for the most part, and though his bank account holds enough to buy a whole new life or three that doesn’t feel like it really belongs to him. Those transactions are from his family, it’s practically dirty money and sure, he is stupid, an idiot who scrapes by like a starving, struggling student when the truth is he doesn’t actually know what hardships are. 

He won’t have to worry about rent, food or text books, he doesn’t have to pay for public transit passes or hitch rides with friends because he could buy a car if he wanted- multiple cars! He could have a personal driver tote him around in a ing limo to rub it in people’s faces because them. Unfortunately, that isn’t really in his nature. 

It all sounds good for a moment, because he is angry and sad and confused. He’s mad at those jocks and all of the shallow people on campus who look down on him when he could actually be above all of them. He’s angry at Yunho because he doesn’t know why, but he is angry at the man, at Junsu and Changmin too. And his family- oh he won’t even begin that spiral down to hell.