Chapter Text
Kim Rok Soo stared at the ceiling, wondering if the universe had made a clerical error by letting him be born as a human instead of something less inconvenient—like a worm, or a particularly annoying mosquito.
A worm wouldn’t have bills to pay. A mosquito wouldn’t have expectations to meet. A human? The worst possible option.
Zero stars. Would not recommend.
He exhaled sharply, arms folded beneath his head. Life, he decided, was an elaborate scam. One moment you’re a kid with no responsibilities, and the next, you’re drowning in work, surrounded by people who expect things from you, and somehow, inexplicably, in charge of your own survival. It was absurd.
Kim Rok Soo was tired.
Existence felt like one long, unpaid internship, and he wasn’t sure what exactly he was working toward. Was there a final goal? A reward at the end? Or was it just an endless cycle of waking up, working, and collapsing back into bed only to do it all over again?
His head ached. His soul ached.
He was about to fully spiral into the depths of existential despair when—
"Rok Soo, do you think I could punch a bear and win?"
Kim Rok Soo blinked. His moment of philosophical reflection shattered like cheap glass.
Choi Jung Soo was sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking up at him with the kind of curiosity only someone completely disconnected from reality could have.
“Jung Soo,” Kim Rok Soo said slowly, “what?”
Choi Jung Soo nodded, completely serious. "Like, just a one-on-one fight. No weapons. Just me and the bear."
Kim Rok Soo closed his eyes. Breathed in. Breathed out.
“Why,” he began, “would you ever—”
“Wait,” another voice cut in. “Is it a normal bear or, like, a mutated apocalypse bear?”
Kim Rok Soo’s existential crisis officially crumbled into dust.
He turned his head slightly, just enough to see Cale Henituse lounging on his side on the couch, lazily flipping through a book he was very obviously not reading.
Jung Soo frowned. “Does that matter?”
“Of course it matters,” Cale said. “A normal bear is already a bad idea, but a mutated one? Your chances are even worse.”
Kim Rok Soo sat up. “Why are we even discussing this?”
Choi Jung Soo pointed at him. “You’re avoiding the question, which means you think I could win.”
Kim Rok Soo rubbed his face. “No, I think you would die, and then I’d have to be responsible for your funeral costs, which would only add to my suffering.”
Cale snorted. “Harsh, but fair.”
Jung Soo pouted. "You guys have no faith in me."
"You don't even have a plan," Cale said lazily. "At least tell me you'd gouge out its eyes or something."
“Ohhh, that’s a good idea!" Jung Soo perked up.
Kim Rok Soo stared at them, dead inside.
“Why,” he asked flatly, “must you do this to me?”
Before either of them could answer, a strong hand grabbed the back of their collars.
“Alright,” Lee Soo Hyuk’s voice was calm but full of warning. “Enough.”
He effortlessly hauled both Cale and Jung Soo up, ignoring their protests.
“Rok Soo was having a moment,” he said, dragging them toward the door. “Let him be miserable in peace.”
“But the bear—”
“I don’t care about the bear.”
Kim Rok Soo watched as the door closed behind them, silence settling over the room once more.
He sighed, lying back down.
Maybe the universe hadn't made a clerical error. Maybe it had just put him in the wrong social group.
Kim Rok Soo stared at the ceiling again.
Silence.
Peace.
Maybe, just maybe, he could finally sink into his well-earned existential crisis—
The door creaked open.
Kim Rok Soo didn’t move. Didn’t react.
A long pause. Then:
“…Soo Hyuk, he’s just lying there.”
“That’s what people do when they’re thinking, Jung Soo.”
“No, but—what if he’s, like, dissociating? Should we shake him?”
Kim Rok Soo inhaled sharply.
“No,” Soo Hyuk’s voice was firm. “We’re leaving.”
A shuffle of movement, then a suspiciously dramatic sigh. “Fine.”
The door shut.
Kim Rok Soo exhaled, closing his eyes.
Finally.
Five minutes later.
A thud. Then another.
Then—an unmistakable crunch.
Kim Rok Soo cracked one eye open.
Choi Jung Soo was sitting on the floor again, happily munching on a bag of chips. Beside him, Cale was reclined on a pillow, flipping through his book like he hadn’t just been forcefully removed from the room moments ago.
Kim Rok Soo stared.
“…What,” he asked, voice dangerously calm, “are you doing.”
Jung Soo chewed. Swallowed.
“Eating,” he said, holding out the bag. “Want some?”
Kim Rok Soo pressed his palms against his eyes.
“No,” he muttered, “I don’t want—”
Cale turned a page. “You looked depressed.”
“I am depressed.”
“We’re helping,” Jung Soo said brightly.
Kim Rok Soo let out a slow, measured breath. “By eating chips?”
Jung Soo nodded. “It’s called emotional support snacking.”
Cale tilted his book slightly. “Besides, if we weren’t here, you’d just keep thinking about meaningless existential nonsense.”
Kim Rok Soo lowered his hands and gave them both a flat look.
“Maybe I wanted to think about meaningless existential nonsense.”
Jung Soo made a face like that was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. “Why?”
Kim Rok Soo opened his mouth, then closed it.
That was… a good question.
Why?
Why was he sitting here wallowing in the fact that existence was an endless cycle of suffering when he could—
Crunch.
Jung Soo chewed happily, completely at peace.
Cale turned another page, already looking bored again.
Kim Rok Soo sighed.
“…Give me the chips.”
Jung Soo beamed, immediately handing the bag over.
Kim Rok Soo grabbed a handful and leaned back against the couch.
Fine. Maybe he didn’t need to solve the mysteries of the universe tonight. Maybe he didn’t need to spiral into an existential crisis alone in a dark room.
Maybe this was enough.
At least, until the next time Jung Soo decided to challenge a bear to a fight.