The first thing Jaejoong registers is that Yunho is singing.

Jaejoong can tell it’s him. Though singing voices are different from talking voices (Jaejoong has spent enough years hearing Changmin in the shower to have adequate evidence of that), the voice cannot belong to anyone but Yunho. He doesn’t know how to describe the voice. It’s just…it’s just Yunho.

Eyes still closed, he sleepily reaches out, hand slapping different parts of the bed before he realises that Changmin isn’t there, and his eyes fly open in panic. Min? His mouth forms the name, though nothing comes out no matter how hard he tries. Min!

The singing stops. “He went out for a bite,” Yunho says as he steps into the room as though he’d been waiting outside the whole time. There’s a tightness around his eyes like he’s displeased by something, and Jaejoong instinctively cringes. While it has occurred to him that if he’d spared Jaejoong before when he killed his father and taken him in when he had his throat all but ripped out, Yunho probably wasn’t going to kill him anytime soon, but he’s still wary of pissing Yunho off. To take his mind off it, he tries to focus on the person next to Yunho. The person looks more like a boy than anything else, really, younger than Jaejoong, possibly even younger than Changmin. Jaejoong points at him, finger trembling slightly. Boyfriend?

Yunho and the boy look at each other, and then burst out laughing at the same moment, and for a moment Jaejoong feels a vast sense of happiness that the lines around Yunho’s eyes melt away. He mentally throws a brick at his head, because a simple facepalm is not enough of a punishment for feeling like that. His father’s face, an expression on it not too different from the one he had when he realised that Jaejoong had accidentally killed his goldfish by holding it in his hand to get a closer look floats up in his mind for a brief moment, and then it dissipates at the sound of the boy’s voice.

“He wishes,” the boy says, the corners of his mouth curving upwards.

“You wish I do,” Yunho shoots back. “Unfortunately, you’re underage.”

“And he isn’t?”

“You know he’s not.”

The boy smiles. “Neither am I. It’s not my fault I look like .”

“You are .”

What is going on? Jaejoong writes, having managed to get hold of his notepad and pen.

“Sorry,” Yunho says apologetically before gesturing at the boy. “This is Taemin. I asked him here to check your neck injury.”

Jaejoong raises his eyebrows. It’s something he’s learnt from Changmin.

“Yes, he’s a real doctor. I’m not so cheap I’d settle for a medical student.”

“Even if he’s cute,” the boy—Taemin—says laughingly.

“Especially if he’s cute,” Yunho says adamantly, watching Jaejoong carefully as though his reaction matters. Jaejoong doesn’t know why…it’s not like it matters to him if Yunho makes it a habit of being romantically interested in boys who look like they should be all the way back in middle school.

Ok, maybe it does bother him a little.

But why should that matter to Yunho? He’s just Yunho’s student.

“Do you trust me, Jaejoong?” He hears Taemin ask.

Jaejoong frowns. It’s not natural to…he’s not supposed to trust this Taemin. Cute or not, the guy is a doctor, and Jaejoong has seen enough horror movies (again, blame it on Changmin) to know that doctor friends of murderers are not a good sign. And Yunho is a murderer, even if Jaejoong is not one of his targets. Jaejoong knows that his answer should be no. That he doesn’t trust this Taemin.

But he does.

Yes, he mouths, and like before, nothing comes out but a faint rush of breath.

“Ok,” Taemin says gently, then motions at Yunho. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to step out.”

“But it’s not—”

“Done,” Taemin finishes for him. “Yes, yes, I know. But I’d much rather do this without you breathing down my neck and worrying about it every second.”

Right. Yunho is Jaejoong’s teacher and guardian for the time being; of course he’d be worried about him.

“Please don’t stand stupidly in the corridor outside either,” Taemin adds, and Jaejoong gets the feeling that if Yunho did just that it wouldn’t be the first time.

Yunho’s nostrils flare and he looks like he’s going to argue, but eventually he exhales and nods stiffly. “I’ll be in my study if you need me,” he says before going out and closing the door behind him.

Taemin waits a little longer to ensure that Yunho is really gone, then turns Jaejoong. “Now,” he says, handing a tablet to Jaejoong, his expression grave. “You can type here…it should be faster than writing it down on paper. I’m afraid I can’t do much unless I know how you got a wound like that. Yunho won’t tell me what happened…will you?”

-{}-

Huh? Jaejoong furrows his eyebrows confusion. This isn’t how it goes…right? Shouldn’t there be some sort of scanning equipment or something, if the injury was deep enough to take away his voice? And what on earth does how he got the injury have to do with the treatment for it? It’s not like he brushed up against a poisonous plant or anything like that; someone tried to rip his throat out, for heaven’s sake.

He types all that down. In much politer language then his brain initially supplied, of course.

Taemin’s eyes widen. “Someone what?”

Jaejoong knows it’s unbelievable, but it’s true, and he taps the tablet screen to make his point.

Taemin, to Jaejoong’s surprise, reaches out and grips his wrists, causing Jaejoong to drop the tablet. “Don’t worry about that, Jaejoong,” he says. “I believe you…really, I do. What I want to know is, who is this someone?”

The frantic note of urgency in his voice scares Jaejoong more than just a little, and the fear is reflected on his face.

Noticing that, Taemin immediately loosens his grip on Jaejoong’s wrists, moving his hands upwards to rub soothing circles on Jaejoong’s palms. “I’m sorry,” he says, sounding truly remorseful. “Please calm down, Yunho will come up if you panic.”

What? 

Jaejoong is pretty sure that Taemin said that just to make him relax…how would Yunho know if he’s panicked or not?

But still, it succeeds in making him take deep breaths in a bid to lower his blood pressure, because as impossible as it sounds, it’s not entirely inconceivable…after all, it’s not like everything that’s happened to him has occurred within the realm of possibility. A week before, he’d have sworn that Changmin would never go home without him telling him beforehand, and that he’s never done anything in his life to warrant anyone trying to kill him. Now…now he’s not sure anymore. He’s not sure of anything.

“Good job,” Taemin praises him when Jaejoong’s face visibly takes on a more peaceful expression. He sighs. “I think I owe you an explanation.”

Jaejoong gives him a look that says yeah, you sure as hell do (again, the snark is Changmin’s fault).

“While I may not look like it, I’m a very…highly-regarded doctor, and under normal conditions, if Yunho had asked for me, my…secretary would have told him to go get a doctor more his level. But he mentioned that someone extremely important may have played a role in this, and I couldn’t refuse him. That’s why I want to…no, I need to know who did this. I can’t look at your injury until then. There’s no way I can justify my coming here to my superiors otherwise, and I assure you the punishment for acting out on my own without a valid reason is a lot worse than getting fired.”

Jaejoong glances pointedly at the tablet, and after a brief pause Taemin passes it to him.

Your superiors are a bit over the top, Jaejoong types, that being the best thing he can say. It’s not the explanation he wants, and if anything, it’s given him more questions than answers, but he highly doubts Taemin is willing to say more on the matter.

Taemin chuckles. “To you, maybe, but to me, it’s pretty normal. The rules may seem overboard to you, but like all rules, they’re there for a reason.”

I suppose so, Jaejoong finally types. His fingers hover above the digital keyboard, getting closer to it and then suddenly darting away. He closes his eyes, at the little piece of skin over his teardrop-shaped mark without knowing it. The back of his neck throbs, and all the blood seems to drain from his head. He starts to sway, and he would probably have toppled over had Taemin not grabbed him by the shoulders and lowered him onto the pillows.

Jaejoong’s eyes roll back into his head, and for what seems to be the hundredth time he faints again. He lets go of the tablet, and Taemin catches it just before it hits the floor.

The name Kangin is on the screen, the tiny characters inky black against the stark white background.

“Thank you,” Taemin whispers even though he knows there’s no point. He sets the tablet aside and gently rolls Jaejoong onto his stomach.