It’s not until 11PM that Junmyeon notices that Yixing’s not there. At first he’s confused, because he was pretty sure he saw him reading in his room not too long ago, and Chanyeol swears on his dog’s grave that he walked back home with him. So does Sehun, and Kyungsoo, and Luhan; and suddenly it occurs to Junmyeon that even though Yixing mattered to them a lot (heck, Luhan couldn’t walk an inch without him), the silence he was always cocooned in made him easy to forget in chaotic situations such as dinner at the dorm. It hurts, because Junmyeon never thought he could forget one of his friends so easily, especially not his boyfriend.

He paces around the living room with his hands behind his back and the gears inside his head spinning and spinning. Wufan and Sehun have been watching him for the past fifteen minutes, their gazes weighing heavier on his shoulders with every passing minute. Wufan glances at his phone and sighs.

"Look, we tried calling him like, what, a thousand times already?" He looks at Sehun for approval, and the younger nods reassuringly. "I’m sure he’s just wandering around or something. You know how cloudy he can get."

Junmyeon isn’t comforted by that at all; he shoots a glare at Wufan’s direction and keeps pacing, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “No, no, this is bad. Something’s wrong. He’s not okay, I’m sure of it,” he mumbles under his breath, and Sehun lets out a frustrated groan and lets his head hit the wall behind him. “He’s probably fine and you’re probably just being your paranoid self and nothing’s wrong so will you please sit down because I’m getting dizzy from all the pacing you’re doing.”

"Amen," Jongdae pipes up from the kitchen, staring at Junmyeon from the doorway.

How can you not care? Junmyeon wants to yell at them; He’s your friend, isn’t he? You love him, don’t you? How can you not care?

He shakes his head and storms to the front door, grabbing his coat and keys. “I’m going to look for him,” he announces flatly, slipping his shoes on. “Call me if you need anything.” And before they can say a single word, he’s already out the door and bolting down the stairs, too impatient to take the elevator. His mind is completely blank when he catches a taxi and instructs the driver to go to SM’s headquarters; when in doubt, go to the practice rooms, he always says. Yixing listened to him when he said that, because he always does- he listens to everyone but himself, worries about everyone’s needs but his own. It’s not healthy, Junmyeon told him one night, when they were both sweaty and sticky and under the covers, settling in for a good night’s sleep; not thinking about yourself, too, is not good for you. And Yixing just laughed and pecked the tip of his nose, bidding him good night.

He should’ve known, he realizes suddenly, the taxi stopping outside the SM building. He should’ve payed attention.

Money is exchanged and Junmyeon rushes inside, bowing and smiling nervously as people pass him by. He takes the elevator this time, because he’s tired and today was a long day; but as soon as he’s inside the elevator, alone and worried, he realizes that he has no idea in which practice room Yixing might be.

"Ah, joy," he breathes, leaning against the cool metal wall of the elevator. Yixing once told him that he likes it when he can see what’s going on outside while they have their schedule, so as soon as the elevator stops Junmyeon heads to the largest practice room on the eighth floor; he just wishes his guess is right.

The room is quiet when he enters, but the lights are on and Yixing’s sitting in a corner with his knees pulled to his chest and his hands frustrated handfuls of his hair. The door closes silently and Junmyeon feels like crying; he’s never seen Yixing this small.

"Xing," he says as softly as humanly possible, his voice as quiet as breeze on still water. Yixing looks up in surprise, and this time Junmyeon does sob- his eyes are red and swollen and his cheeks are tear streaked. He glides across the room and falls to his knees in front of his boyfriend, his hands and words hanging in front of him, unsure of what to do next.

Yixing smiles painfully. “Hey.” His voice is grainy and moist, as if his vocal cords have been rubbed with sand paper and then soaked in water for a good day or two. Junmyeon shakes his head weakly, letting his fingers lace themselves with Yixing’s. “Oh, honey,” he whimpers, and suddenly they’re both collapsing onto each other, arms wrapping around shoulders and waists and fingers clawing at cloth helplessly. They’re desperate.

"I was worried," Junmyeon croaks. "And now I’m worried even more."

A hollow laughter escapes the other, and Junmyeon feels hot tears soaking through his shirt. “I’m sorry, I just—” Yixing in a breath that hurts Junmyeon’s chest. “I needed to think. They were too miserable.”

"Who were?" Junmyeon’s surprised, to say the least; he really hopes that Yixing isn’t doing some weird ghost-summoning now, because there is a limit to the amount of crazy one person can possess, and Yixing’s certainly close to hitting it. But the other just sighs.

"Them," he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "Everyone. Zitao and Minseok and Baekhyun and Jongdae; oh my god, Jongdae." Yixing pulls back with a disturbingly serious expression smeared all over his face. "You have no idea how miserable he is, Jun. I feel like my soul is being right out of me every time he laughs. It’s so brittle."

Junmyeon just stares, because what is there to say, really? He knew that Yixing saw people differently. He knew he had a special way of describing the world. But he’s never heard him talk so deeply, so honestly, about another human being. It just wasn’t like him; Yixing held everyone’s worries and trouble, as well as his own- but he kept quiet about it. Now Junmyeon understood why.

He smiles fondly, caressing Yixing’s cheek. “But you know it’s not your job to pay attention to people and their misery, right?” He asks softly, carefully. “Pay attention to you. Don’t you think you’re important enough?”

"If only it worked that way," Yixing spat bitterly, placing his hand on top of Junmyeon’s. "Their pain… it’s not something you can just ignore. It’s everywhere, Jun, and I’m suffocating."

Junmyeon’s heart clenches painfully, and he swipes his thumb over the smooth surface of Yixing’s skin. “You’re not someone you can just ignore, Yixing,” he says sincerely, and the other opens his mouth in dismay. “Your pain is making me hurt, Xing. Do you think, for once, that you can care about yourself for me?”

Silence stretches on for miles and Yixing looks unsure, his eyes scanning Junmyeon’s face over and over again in hesitation. Junmyeon doesn’t like that; Yixing never hesitates, he just acts, so he leans over and kisses him, softly but surely. Yixing responds and Junmyeon can’t help but smile; that’s more like it.

"Please," he whispers against Yixing’s lips. "For me."

And Yixing nods and pulls him closer, his fingers sinking in Junmyeon’s hair and their bodies pressed close together as heat drips into the atmosphere. “I’ll try,” he promises, and Junmyeon pushes him to the wooden floor and dives in.

He’ll try.