He’s sweating. 

Or rather, he’s beginning to sweat. 

He glances down at the takeout container in his hand, because yeah, the noodles are spicy- like extra spicy. 

But Jaejoong has the mouth of a demon. Munch on a ghost pepper and debate working them into a recipe demon, going for a second bite of pepper level demon.  

His brow furrows as he pokes at the noodles with the metal chopsticks poised in his hands. Cayenne and chili peppers, it is nothing and yet he feels so warm. Strangely it isn’t his tongue, there isn’t a warmth heating his mouth, nothing clinging to his lips and causing them to go rosy.  

What the is wrong with him? Because he is starting to freak out. 

He abandons his noodles on the table, eyes squinting as he looks around Yunho’s kitchen. They could have had dinner on the couch, but something about that had bothered him a great deal. The last thing he wanted was to find himself scrubbing a stain out of Yunho’s area rug or couch cushions.  

The alpha has stepped away to take a call about work and Jaejoong is glad to have the moment alone. 

Something really is wrong with him; it might be a good idea for him to just show himself out while Yunho is busy.  

He presses the soft sleeve of the sweat to his forehead and immediately feels guilty afterwards. It is so soft, cashmere and dry clean only... and there he is wiping sweat off of his skin with it. He’ll just leave money behind to replace the thing. It’s not like Yunho couldn’t afford a new sweater- but so can Jaejoong and since he is the one who ruined it... 

Maybe he’ll just keep the damn sweater himself, if he’s paying for it anyway... 

The blonde sniffs at the end of the sleeve, sighing softly to himself as spice and soil and cedar pull at his senses.  

He opts for a drink first, sliding out of his chair as he pulls a glass from the cabinet above the sink so he can raid the fridge. 

For some reason, seeing it innocently stocked full makes him feel a bit guilty. He was supposed to be teaching Yunho to cook or... cooking for him- something like that and then he had just... flaked. The alpha hadn’t wanted to see him, he reasons to make himself feel better. 

So why was he there then? Yunho didn’t want to see him... so he sends his sister to herd him like a sheep so they can sit in a café together? Until he went and started freaking out and... something. Fell asleep? It was more like Yunho had put him to sleep, maybe. 

In the end he is reaching for a pitcher of water when someone clears his throat. 

It’s just Yunho, he knows that, and yet he whips around so fast he nearly drops the pitcher. He winds up hugging it to his chest and figures he looks like as much of a fool as he feels. 

The alpha isn’t laughing at him though, just watching.  

“There’s juice,” are the words he is supplied with, “you could... you’ll need the sugar. Have juice instead.” 

Jaejoong is pretty sure it is a suggestion, and yet it doesn’t really sound like a suggestion at all. Yunho isn’t shouting at him to have juice, of all things, but he doesn’t feel like he can decline. He’s not supposed to, but Jaejoong doesn’t really like juice much. 

“Your phone call?” he asks lamely to distract himself as he returns to pitcher to the fridge, squinting at the other containers before he settles on a cranberry-raspberry juice.  

It looks pretty and even smells nice as he pours it into the glass. 

Yunho is still watching him as he returns to the table and he cannot stop himself from fidgeting nervously. How long had the alpha been there? Maybe he’d watch Jaejoong ruin his sweater with his bodily fluids... 

“I think... I think the noodles are too spicy or...” he stammers slowly, bowing his head low, “or I’m sick- I'm... it’s really hot in here.” 

And he was only half dressed, but it was still much too warm. 

Yunho is standing before him immediately, or as immediately as his feet can carry him over which is pretty fast really.  The alpha doesn’t look repulsed, for some reason Yunho is touching his forehead, and he doesn’t grimace, but Jaejoong does because his skin is sweaty and gross and sticky. 

“Drink,” he is told instead, the glass is pulled from his hands and brought to his mouth. 

He wants to protest immediately because how rude, does Yunho think he cannot work out how to take a drink? Yet it is kind of nice, a small part of his mind argues at him, not having to tend to himself, not having to battle with the glass in his sweaty palms with the slight tremor of his hands. 

People do not dote on him, not like this really. Junsu brings him food or whatever he needs when he isn’t well, but he doesn’t do it for him. Mostly, he knows, because he won’t allow the beta to take care of him that way because it just isn’t proper. His best friend has his own person, his own life and betas aren’t supposed to be tied down with the hassle of tending to omegas, nobody really does. 

Omegas are supposed to be small and weak and frail, good for nothing except standing quietly in the background and tending to the home or children. They’re not really cut out for existing in society. Jaejoong doesn’t want to be an omega, solitude suits him just fine, but he wants to spend it doing what he enjoys. He wants to make art or own his own restaurant or be the next hotshot fashion photographer. 

It doesn’t matter of course, because nobody would go near anything he touched. Nobody would look twice at his portfolio, or hire him to work with his betters on a photoshoot or trust his ability to run a business and lead a kitchen. 

He’s wasting his time. He’s going to waste years of his life on a business degree that isn’t going to do anything for him. It won’t sway his parents into realising he isn’t completely useless, it won’t convince the world around him that he is just as capable as anyone else...  

It won’t even matter if they cannot tell, if they can’t smell him or see it on him. If he wants to do anything they’ll know, he labelled, branded. All of his official documents, all of his licenses he’ll have to list his orientation. It isn’t like university that affords him the ability to omit his answer because of its exclusivity.  

Jaejoong cannot do anything. He cannot even drive himself anywhere because he cannot get his stupid license because he has to list himself as an omega. 

“Hey, hey, none of that.” 

A warm hand slides along his thigh, both distracting and grounding enough that the blonde jerks his head upwards, blinking rapidly as air floods into his lungs. 

He does it too often, he knows, a nasty habit where he just kind of stops breathing. It isn’t intentional of knows, he would never willingly opt into a panic attack, but it does happen regularly enough- the way his heart skips and his chest seizes in a vice grip.  He doesn’t really want it to happen again though, maybe tomorrow he’ll be better able to handle it better. 

Fortunately, Yunho’s hand seems to be a steadying anchor. 

The glass is back at his mouth and he finds himself sipping on the juice that is both sweet and tart on his tongue at once. 

“Do you want to hang out on the sofa or in bed?” Yunho questions drawing the glass away, “The guest room-” 

“Can... could,” Jaejoong finds himself interrupting because he even realizes he has opened his stupid mouth, his eyes widen and then drop so he can stare down at his lap instead. 

If he just... stops talking he wonders if Yunho will drop it, will shrug it off and forget he said anything. He could get dressed and call a taxi or stay put in the kitchen until something distracts the alpha from his presence. 

Except he can feel the eyes on him, they’re probably patient and kind, maybe a bit worried like they have been for most of their time together that day, he just cannot bring himself to check though. If he’s wrong... well he doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle it and if he’s not wrong? He already feels guilty for being such trouble even when he doesn’t mean to be. He speaks and stops and stumbles over every thought in his head, he second and third guesses himself over everything and he retreats pathetically like a small child who always needs to be reassured of everything. 

It’s a miserable way to be, he knows, but knowing it doesn’t just make it better. Jaejoong wants to be better, different, but wanting doesn’t just make it better. 

He is trying, but he is failing more than he is succeeding.  

Junsu says the fact that he keeps trying is the important part, that he’s supposed to take all of the small victories and steps and build on them at his own pace. But, well that sounds like a lot of bull more often than it doesn’t.  

Yet for the moment, for the next thirty seconds, maybe Junsu isn’t wrong, maybe he isn’t just an idiot trying to make him feel better because he is obligated to. 

“Is your room okay?” the blonde stage whispers, raking his teeth over his lower lip, “Can I- can we stay there?” 

He likes Yunho’s place, he really does, it’s lavish and lovely and spacious. Nothing about it feels much like a home, though. It’s a pretty, modern space stolen out of magazines that demands to be shown off and envied, but it doesn’t feel like a home. There is no stray coffee mug that didn’t make it to the sink, there is no jacket crumpled up in the corner of the sofa or over the arm of a chair. The books aren’t in disarray, there is no clutter of well... anything. 

Yunho’s place doesn’t look liked in really, but his room does. 

Still pretty and pristine and nearly perfect, but not entirely perfect. The stuffed Bambi doll he had found last time in Yunho’s things is still on his bed, easily noticed from the open doorway. The bedding is made neatly, but there is still a mess of pillows- kind of like he had never bothered straightening them out after Jaejoong had hoarded half of his linen closet into his bed. Which okay, was absolutely humiliating, but Yunho hadn’t seemed to mind- and he wasn’t going to do it again so whatever. 

“Sure, anything,” the older man agrees easily, so easily that he almost spirals right into another attack, but the hand is still there, massaging the outside of his thigh and pulling him back from whatever ledge he is too determined to haul himself over. 

-----

Jaejoong didn’t mean to doze off, really.  

He remembers Yunho guiding him toward the room, hand on the small of his back, he knows the juice came with him and that Yunho held the glass each time he coaxed the blonde into drinking it. The glass magically kept refilling, at one point it was full of orange juice instead. 

They hadn’t done anything. 

It had mostly been Jaejoong sprawled out in Yunho’s bed, leaning back into too many pillows but ultimately deciding it was the only way to really live. Along the way the man had offered him Bambi and although he should have protested because he was not a child, he had all but snatched the little deer and he knows, to his horror, that he had snuggled up to the thing. 

It was definitely weird, Bambi was Yunho prized stuffed doll from when he was small- his daughter he remembers. So why would he let Jaejoong cuddle with it? Clearly it is important.  

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