The boy at the servo knew who he was.
He knew, he kewn, and he was looking at Jaejoong like he was expecting something. Jaejoong hated that look. Hated that look because he knew there was nothing he could do to meet that expectation, even if he didn't actually know what the boy wanted or expected. This wasn't what he wanted.
That he knows was like a wet fish to the face, and terrified Jaejoong far more then the fact that his whole body had gone clammy cold and that he was shivering.
The latter fact seemed to worry the boy more though, and his face was a mess of odd worry and confusion. Jaejoong didn’t know what to make of it. All he had wanted was some more vodka. And carrots. He wanted carrots. But there weren’t any there. He remembered getting more of those chips instead, the orange ones. What'd he done with them again?
“Shit, you look like you’re going to collapse.” The boy sounded like he knew what he was talking about, and Jaejoong wondered if he was right. Collapsing actually sounded like a good option. His knees buckled.
“Fuck!” Mmm. No…
“Where are you staying?” The words were somehow urgent, and the boy’s grip was hard and bruising around his arm. The boy's face swam into view again, his small eyes wide, forehead crinkled. The flat concrete of the entrance to the servo was nicely solid and cool as he sunk onto it. His jeans will be dirty, his mind told him.
He could hear mumbling, and realized after a moment that it was coming from himself.
The hands tightend further, and Jaejoong held back a whimper. Don’t whimper. Not ever. Bad bad bad. Just lie back and block it out. Let it happen. Always worse if you struggle. Jaejoong imagined a wall of white, and ignored the hands all over his body.