Chapter Text
A firm hand tightly grips onto his wrist.
Yoo Joonghyuk tugs him forward, and they make a run for it.
Instantly, Kim Dokja realizes with sinking dread; this is a very bad idea.
One, everyone and their mothers know he has pathetically low stamina. Not enough to make him skip out on physical activities, but enough to give him the lowest scores compared to his classmates. Two, his body was still recovering from the hospital. He’d end up injuring himself more by overexerting his limbs. Three, they were currently running from his bullies, who are fairly strong enough to beat them in a race… and in a fight.
But do they have any better options? Nope.
For now, he keeps his eyes trained onto Yoo Joonghyuk’s back, and tries not to think about the sudden jolts of pain creeping up his legs. Behind them, angry shouts travel down the hallways.
“Cowardly bastards…!”
Yoo Joonghyuk takes a sharp turn to the left, harshly yanking him around like a kid with their first balloon. At this rate, his arm will surely rip off before they manage to run away. He's already trying very hard not to trip over his own feet.
They pass by the empty classrooms amidst the hectic rush. Past the sliding windows, the sunset shines through the glass, illuminating their faces with flashes of angular shadows and refractions of light; their footsteps echo against the tiled floor, and the hair strands of twin ravens ruffle in the wind.
They run, and keep running with no end in sight.
…
...
…Would it be too much to ask about where they were going? No offense to Yoo Joonghyuk, but he's only been at this school for a day (which happens to be today).
However, the answer will soon reveal itself, as Dokja can tell he can't go on much longer. His heart beats erratically out of his chest, breaths coming in short gasps as the air struggles to reach his lungs. They reach another corner, and as foretold, his legs suddenly give out beneath him. A wave of fatigue hits him like a truck, and his head starts spinning from the impact. Oh boy, he’s about to pass out.
Except, Kim Dokja trips over absolutely nothing, and launches himself directly onto Yoo Joonghyuk's back.
“Wah!”
“Oof–”
Their legs tangle together in an awkward waltz, and in tandem, they unharmoniously fall to the floor with a loud thump.
He hears an irritated groan from below.
Luckily for him, his landing is softened immeasurably by the body beneath him acting as his shield. Yoo Joonghyuk on the other hand, face plants onto the ground.
“I-I’m sorry!” If his bullies weren't going to kill him, then Yoo Joonghyuk definitely will.
Mortified, he makes an effort to scramble off of Yoo Joonghyuk as quickly as possible, but fails miserably.
“Ah…”
“...”
He can't move his legs.
“I can’t… move my legs…”
“What.”
Dokja tries to wiggle his right foot, and flinches from the pain.
Yoo Joonghyuk sighs.
Without warning, he rolls his body over with all his might, causing Dokja to ungracefully fall on his back with a pained yelp.
Then, he moves his arms over his head, and pulls Dokja across the tiled floor. It takes Yoo Joonghyuk zero effort.
Alarmed by the rough treatment, he couldn't help but ask; “Where… are we going?”
“Closet.”
Slightly tilting his head, Dokja spots the storage room right next to them. Well, it's also a closet too, he supposes.
It was a good thing that no other students were around at this time. He could only imagine their surprise, seeing the new kid dragging the presumed dead body of none other than Kim Dokja, and taking him into the storage closet. Although, they’d probably praise him for doing so.
Yoo Joonghyuk goes in from behind, pulling Dokja closer for him to sit in front of his legs. He crosses the short distance between himself and the door, and locks it.
Purposefully, they keep the lights off, somewhat making the cramped space a bit more bearable. The light outside faintly trickles in from the tiny crack beneath the door, providing enough light to see the insides of the closet they've trapped themselves in.
Shelves filled with school supplies, chalkboard erasers, and a few cleaning sprays surround the room, which was clearly built to fit one person. Not to mention there were also dust particles floating about… forcing Dokja to fight back a sneeze.
Nonetheless, they try to keep the room completely silent; he can only hear the sounds of his own labored breaths, and the quiet puffs of air from Yoo Joonghyuk towering over him. He must be exhausted as well.
Then, a series of loud footsteps come closer.
“Where the hell did they go!?”
He hunches further into himself, while Yoo Joonghyuk tenses up a few degrees.
The annoyed curses of his bullies get even louder, echoing in the hallways.
“They couldn't have gone far!”
...
…
And.
They're right outside the door.
...
-But they run straight past the closet, footsteps gradually quieting down as they get further away.
…
A beat passes.
…
…
Complete silence.
Finally, Dokja breathes out a huge sigh of relief—after what felt like hours of running through an endless labyrinth, it was hardly ten minutes of exercise. Even so, he would’ve done more than pass out had they continued a few seconds longer.
Leaning his head back, he tries to register what just happened. His mind is still disoriented in some jumbled mess and confusing patterns, but the images from before remained vividly clear despite their rough time.
He would never forget the grounding pressure on his wrist, the determined gaze of someone who was so sure of himself, and the words Yoo Joonghyuk had said a few moments ago:
“Hand him over.”
It was like something straight out of a story.
At first, Kim Dokja thought he was going to die a second time. If not by his bullies, then by Yoo Joonghyuk.
He had slept throughout the entire day today, hardly listening to the lectures and sleeping through the breaks. There was nothing he felt like doing, not when he didn’t have an appetite, nor the energy to do basic human tasks. Everything felt too much, yet too little at the same time.
He didn’t even realize there was a new student in their class today until it was after school.
Dokja woke up to no one in the classroom. Except, looking around, someone’s schoolbag was left on top of the desk beside his. Which was somewhat weird. As far as he knew, no one had sat there since the beginning of the school year. Why would someone leave their bag here now? He had no reason to think much of it, so he packed his own bag and left. However, as soon as he reached the door, a group of guys ambushed him.
“Dokja! Heard you were back from the hospital!”
One of the boys grabbed him by the collar, preventing him from escaping.
“We missed ya!…How could we get through this shitty school year without our favorite errand boy around, eh?”
They start tugging him towards the door. Dokja keeps his eyes trained to the floor.
“C’mon, we have some catching up to do–”
As they reach the door, it unexpectedly bursts open by itself.
A deep voice intercepts them.
“Hey.”
The boys, including Kim Dokja, pause to stare at the figure in the doorway.
A razor-sharp gaze pierces through the air at the speed of light, like an arrow shot out of Robin Hood’s strong bow. Thick slanted eyebrows furrow together, and boyishly jet black curls swoop in purposeful directions; a vision of breath-taking perfection that could only be conceptualized by the most talented artists.
If someone like that truly existed, then they must be the protagonist of this world, Kim Dokja thought.
And he was standing right in front of him.
“Hah? Who’re you?”
“...”
Then, all of his attention was entirely focused on Dokja.
Things rapidly escalated once Yoo Joonghyuk riled them up with his “high and mighty attitude,” so he grabbed Kim Dokja and bolted out the door.
Now, they were alone, which was the real problem.
If anyone had experienced the wrath of a thousand swords before, they’d know Yoo Joonghyuk's glare alone could do the same. With a gaze like that trained on Kim Dokja, he was about to disintegrate into tiny molecules. Which did he fear more, running away from his bullies, or from Yoo Joonghyuk?
It was the latter.
Word spreads quickly. It's how his peers avoid him like the plague, and how they often make fun of him behind his back. Like his bullies, some choose to take more drastic measures, fueled by hatred and disgust. His teachers only turn a blind eye towards the acts of violence, and his aunt doesn't hesitate to show her contempt for taking him in. Every now and then, a reporter would be trailing him from behind with a list of prodding questions at their disposal.
These people are eager to poke at his wounds, and sit back as he bleeds out stories for their entertainment. Dokja’s not sure where to place Yoo Joonghyuk, yet.
He tilts his head up to glance at him, the boy who got themselves in this situation, and startles when striking eyes meet his own.
“Ah–”
However, the smaller boy’s attention is caught by the faint trickle of blood dripping down the taller boy's chin.
“Wait, your nose!” Dokja blurts out. He must’ve injured himself after hitting the ground.
Confused, Yoo Joonghyuk brings a hand to his nose, and lowers his gaze to see the dark liquid on his palm.
“Oh.”
“...I can help?”
Kim Dokja slowly shifts his legs to face his body towards Yoo Joonghyuk. Then, he moves his baggy sleeves towards the other’s face in a questioning motion.
Yoo Joonghyuk stills.
He tilts his head.
“…Fine.”
Dokja goes up to cup his slender cheeks, bringing the boy closer to him.
Awfully rigid, Yoo Joonghyuk awkwardly hunches over while he uses his other sleeve to lightly pinch his nostrils together with his fingers. The blood will stain his sweater, but the reader doesn’t mind.
“...”
From here, he can clearly see the bruise coloring the front of his face, which might take at least two weeks for Yoo Joonghyuk to heal… Because of something Dokja did.
He moves his head to the side, avoiding eye contact.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s expression betrays nothing.
“...Pinching helps to stop the bleeding faster,” Dokja states just to fill in the silence.
Yoo Joonghyuk, sounding a bit funny from the pressure on his nose, says, “Thanks.”
“It was my fault, anyways,” he reproachfully adds.
Yoo Joonghyuk's brows furrow.
“No.”
“Huh?”
Kim Dokja turns his head back, and is instantly overwhelmed by the unabashedly honest look in his eyes, staring straight into him.
“It’s not your fault. You’re still recovering. I dragged you.”
“Well…”
Why?
“Then… Did you need something from me?” Dokja meekly asks.
“No.”
Now he’s confused. “But you were the one who grabbed me?” With a face that could make all the stars fall from the sky, at that.
“I was.”
"So, why?"
“...”
A deeply concentrated look washes over him, and disappears just as quickly. It doesn’t make him seem any less sincere, when he quietly admits:
“I don’t know.”
“…”
Yoo Joonghyuk continues to ask; “Do I need a reason?”
There’s a reason why people do many things, Kim Dokja believes. But he doesn’t voice the thought.
“No…I guess not,” is all he can respond with.
Eventually, he removes his ruined sleeve to see that the bleeding has stopped; only a ghost trail of blood following down his chin remains. As soon as he removes his other hand that was holding Yoo Joonghyuk's face, the other catches himself from falling over, again.
“It’s stopped bleeding, but your nose is bruised.” Kim Dokja frowns. “Will you be okay?”
He gives Dokja a side glance. “...Can you even walk?”
"I-It's no problem! I'll figure it out… somehow."
If that meant sleeping in the storage closet, then it's not so bad. He's in no rush to get back to the apartment, anyway. There's no reason he should be wasting Yoo Joonghyuk's time any longer.
However, he doesn't leave just yet. Looking down at him, Yoo Joonghyuk hesitates.
"You should go; I've already wasted enough of your time." Sheepish, Dokja gives him a reassuring smile.
That seems to snap Yoo Joonghyuk out of his stupor—thick eyebrows furrowing yet again.
"…Okay."
He walks towards the door, but not without giving him a final glance.
Something threatens to reach out of him, kicking and thrashing at the attention. However, Kim Dokja doesn't dare to move a muscle.
Yoo Joonghyuk leaves. The door shuts quietly behind him.
Now, he is alone.
In a moment of self-awareness, he wonders if today was some weird dream. Is Yoo Joonghyuk even real? It wouldn't be too far fetched to think he imagined the boy. He looks down at his clothes. Well. It was a stupid thought. It didn't explain the fact that one of his sleeves still had blood on it; not fully dry.
Anyways. His legs aren't really working, and he even left his phone in his school bag in the classroom. It's safe to say he can't leave the closet.
With nothing left to do, Dokja closes his eyes and dozes off, drained from their encounter.
For the first time, Joonghyuk did the unexpected. Unprecedented. Out of character. On a whim.
He doesn't often involve himself with people, and doesn't go around actively looking for trouble. To him, people were confusing to understand. They spoke sentences that never seem to fully reach him; dialogue as two-dimensional as the NPC's on the other side of his phone screen. There seems to be a common script that everyone follows, yet he's the only one who doesn't have it.
It's like trying to communicate through a wall. However, he doesn't try to cross it.
Right as the bell rang, signaling the end of his first day, a crowd of students were instantly bombarding him with all kinds of questions; "Where did you move from, Joonghyuk?" "Wow, can we be friends! You're so cool…" "What's your type? Just asking for a friend," and followed him around relentlessly through the hallways. Joonghyuk, overwhelmed by their sheer act of shamelessness and persistence, ran away as fast as he could. He didn't even have enough time to grab his school bag.
By the time he managed to lose them, most of the students were already going home. So, he head straight for his homeroom class, just to find out he couldn't remember where it was. He wasted almost thirty minutes trying to find the classroom, and admittedly, he was pissed.
Until, he heard the voices of a few students talking in the hallways. They laughed loudly, mentioning something about a reader. Unwilling to recreate another incident from earlier, Joonghyuk quietly waited until they left, but still managed to overhear what they were saying:
"…He should still be inside the classroom."
"Heh. I was thinkin' of giving him a few more bruises, yeah? That's what he deserves for coming back…"
"We do him a favor… It wouldn't be that weird if he tried jumping again. Just from the rooftop. No one would care, anyway."
…What?
Then, the groups of boys entered a classroom. One of them shouted a greeting. The others, laughed. A chair shrieked painfully against the tiled floor, and he heard the sound of a bag falling on the ground.
Yoo Joonghyuk was moving before he knew it. With every step, he grew slightly unsure, but he purposefully kept going. His stride was heavy, weighed not by fear, but by curiosity. And perhaps concern.
The words, no matter foreign they were, naturally spilled out the moment he saw Him.
In front of him, was the group of boys. However, his gaze was quickly caught by the mirror hiding behind one of the students. Through its tainted reflection, Joonghyuk saw a familiar face in the glass:
Hopelessness.
Then it was decided.
As he stands on the other side of the wooden door that separates them, Yoo Joonghyuk impulsively makes another decision.
"Hey."
…
"Kim Dokja."
…
…Is someone calling his name?
The voice gets marginally closer, and suddenly he feels a puff of air right by his ear. "Oi."
Flinching, Dokja exclaims, "Wah—! Huh?"
Through blurry vision, he sees Yoo Joonghyuk squatting in front of him, and that's when he notices the plastic bag in his hand. Off to the side, he even spots his school bag right next to Yoo Joonghyuk's.
"What…?"
"I went to the convenience store." Gesturing the bag in his face, Yoo Joonghyuk says, "Pick something."
"…Oh. Okay." Thinking about it now, he supposes he is a bit hungry.
He doesn't end up asking why Yoo Joonghyuk came back for him, or why he decided to stay with him for a few moments longer.
For now, Kim Dokja treasures the comfortable silence he found himself with the company of another person, because he'll know that sooner or later, the truth will come out. Like everyone else, Yoo Joonghyuk will avoid him, and regret ever meeting with the murderer's son.
However, knowing that someone did come back for him, is enough.
Walking side by side, they reach the entrance to the school. It's fairly dark outside considering the cold, frigid weather. A few lampposts light up the sides of the road, and the street is completely empty.
The pair stands together on the sidewalk.
"Um…"
Yoo Joonghyuk turns to face him.
"Well, I guess this is goodbye," Dokja says. "Thank you again for the food, Yoo Joonghyuk-ssi." He keeps his eyes forward, looking off into the distance.
"You can call me Joonghyuk." He continues, "…And it was nothing."
"Ah, okay." In his bag, he still has one more roll of kimbap he hasn't eaten, perfectly wrapped since Joonghyuk insisted he have the last piece. It may mean nothing to him. But.
But…
Dokja can feel Joonghyuk's gaze on him, when he says, "…You shouldn't be helping me."
"What."
"I-I mean…" He backtracks a little. "I don't think you should associate yourself with me."
"…Did I do something wrong?" And lord, that is not what he meant.
Glancing at Joonghyuk, Dokja quickly emphasizes, "No, of course not! It's just…" Where does he begin to start?
My mom killed my dad and she's currently in prison. She also wrote about our abusive family in her book, and that's why I have people following me everyday. Also, I tried to kill myself by jumping out of the classroom two weeks ago. I failed. No, it's not your fault that everyone hates me and wants me dead—I think it's for your own good if you never talked to me, again, or else the others will start to spread rumors about you, too. I wouldn't want you to get bullied as much as I do; someone as special as you deserves everything… the world.
"…It's for your own good," he lamely reasons.
At his response, Joonghyuk goes from apprehensive to downright murderous. "If you didn't want to talk to me, then just say so." He bitterly adds, "No need to act like a bumbling fool."
Kim Dokja's fragile ego wilts at the comment, but he tries to further explain; "W-What!? You don't get it… I-"
"I'm leaving." Joonghyuk tightens his grip on his bag, and starts to walk away.
"Wait!" Dokja tugs on his sleeve, but Joonghyuk stubbornly keeps moving forward.
"Joonghyuk, wait-! It's because… You'll get bullied!"
Abruptly, Joonghyuk glares at him, and says, "…Are you threatening me?" Okay, this is getting out of hand.
Dokja shouts, "No! How'd you even come to that conclusion!?"
By the time he'll graduate, Joonghyuk will probably have wrinkles on his forehead because of how often he furrows his brows. "You keep saying weird things."
"Hah… Look at me. How the would I be able to beat you in a fight?"
Yoo Joonghyuk says nothing.
"Anyways. Listen," Kim Dokja stares at him dead in the eyes, and states, "just because we managed to run away from them today, doesn't mean they won't try to bully me again."
"So?"
"So! I'm saying you should leave me alone, or they'll start bullying you too. The teachers don't care, and the students will only spread rumors about you. Everyone will avoid you!" He says all of this in one breath, desperate to get Yoo Joonghyuk to understand.
They shouldn't even be communicating in the first place. Someone like Joonghyuk exists in another world, far above anyone else; especially Kim Dokja. He could never understand why he chose to help him, and he's willing to chalk it up as some peculiar once-in-a-lifetime-occurrence if Joonghyuk would listen.
With all the confidence he has in his big head, Yoo Joonghyuk plainly states, "I don't care."
"I-"
"Shut up." Deliberately, Joonghyuk closes the distance between them. From here, he gives the impression of someone much taller than he actually is, leaving Kim Dokja unsettled, but not in a way he intended; he's more distracted, if anything. He could clearly count each individual eyelash, or observe his own reflection in those beautifully bright gems, resolute.
"You don't get to decide how I feel. I'm not stupid, Kim Dokja. I've heard about you."
"…"
"Still. I don't regret today."
Joonghyuk turns to leave, finally giving Dokja the space to breathe. However, just like earlier, he doesn't go without looking back.
This time, he says, "See you tomorrow." Then, he walks away.
Right, tomorrow. Despite everything, Kim Dokja can't help but wish time would stop, if he could stay with this strange boy for a bit longer. Even if he seems a bit a pretentious.
Watching Joonghyuk's retreating figure, he mutters a tiny, "See you."
The moon hangs over them, and the stars illuminate the night sky.