Chapter Text
Yoo Joonghyuk went through the school day with the same monotony he had for everything.
School in of itself is monotonous, he supposed.
The time when he started to break his monotony was math class.
The professor was writing equations and their formulas on the board, and he took notes down while looking at the professor.
Kim Dokja sat next to him. He always seemed a little bit lost, like he didn't how to live in reality just yet. Kind of like a wanderer trying to find their purpose, he thought. He occasionally snuck glances at him, and saw the same messy hair that looked like it was ruffled before coming to school. Oh, to be the one ruffling his soft hair. He ignored that thought and glanced at Kim Dokja again. The other boy was scarily pale, almost like a vampire.
He took notes differently than Yoo Joonghyuk did.
While Kim Dokja's notes held only the most necessary information, Yoo Joonghyuk's notes were like a copy of what was on the board, leading him to use up a lot of paper quickly. Their handwriting was also completely different. His handwriting was neat, like the kind that you see on social media and then forget about the next day. Kim Dokja's was legible, but it was also messy. Just little quirks here and there, like the way he adds a loop to the bottom of 'y' and 'g'.
Kim Dokja looked at someone, and he followed the former's gaze. A girl with a black bob, a yellow lolly in her mouth, and a look that seemed to scrutinize anything. Yoo Joonghyuk frowned at her, and the girl turned back to the board.
Math ended faster than he thought it would. Kim Dokja left first, while he followed after.
He had a swarm of students bombard him as soon as he got out of class, but he ignored them in favour of his locker. He was just getting his lunch when he heard a dull thump.
He stiffened, and one of the students clarified the source.
"Oh, that's Minwoo. He does us all a service by beating up that nasty son of a murderer," a girl sneered.
He wondered for a brief moment why no one was afraid that he might've fallen in his mother's footsteps. However, he got rid of the thought.
A crowd had also formed around Song Minwoo, and unfortunately, Yoo Joonghyuk was a part of it.
Kim Dokja's face was marred with bruises, and he was grabbed by the neck while being held against the lockers. Punch after punch, and he felt nauseous watching it.
And yet, everyone turned a blind eye to his suffering because of a crime his mother committed.
"Eugh, still can't believe his mom would actually..." One boy spoke up.
"Do you wonder if it feels like what his dad did to him?" A girl asked.
"The murder wasn't justified." Someone else declared, while having almost no context to the sheer gravity of the situation.
He felt sick, and angry at the same time. He wished he could at least relieve some of Kim Dokja's suffering, but it's like there's a wall protecting him from the rest of the world.
And even now, he's hiding behind that wall while tanking every single hit like an idiot. Yoo Joonghyuk clenched his hands into fists while being able to do absolutely nothing because of a stupid threat his parents had sent him. He was completely paralyzed, and it hurt seeing the one person he would've liked to call a companion tolerate abuse like it was as simple as breathing.
Their gazes met, for once, and Kim Dokja's eyes looked terrifyingly vacant. Like he had already died long ago, and only the remnants of his soul remained so his body wouldn't decay and rot at this very moment. He suddenly understood what it looked like to have every pleasure and every sadness ripped from you as you're left with nothing but a hollow husk of a body. Kim Dokja was a living, breathing example.
When they were older, Yoo Joonghyuk would find Kim Dokja even if it meant travelling to America. He made a silent vow that the only object of his affections desire for companionship would never have to face sorrow again as long as he was around.
He couldn't eat lunch afterwards. It felt like commiting a blasphemous sin against his own beliefs. So, he sat at a table, watching others fill the space around him.
But his eyes were only on one person at the corner of the cafeteria.
Everyone else talked, and laughed about some stupid jokes. A shield against the reality that one student had to face every single day.
He wasn't a part of that shield, nor was he behind Kim Dokja's wall. He was simply walking through a narrow path.
Was that path 'reality,' then? He saw everything.
The ignorance.
The hatred.
And worst of all, the happiness.
He had learned that happiness was never free. It always came at a cost, whether it be death or strife.
The happiness at this school was fueled by one person's suffering, and the majority's ignorance.
Happiness sustained by suffering was never true happiness, he thought.
Yet there were people that sat on a lavish throne made from bones and blood.
He wondered if Kim Dokja was bound to be a part of those bones one day. Then he vowed to never let that happen as long as he was alive.
Kim Dokja was the sacrifice to maintain paradise.
The school day progressed as usual after lunch, with Yoo Joonghyuk doing the bare minimum and being treated as extraordinary. He knew it was unfair to the rest of the student body, but he couldn't care less.
At the end of the day, he noticed that Kim Dokja stayed longer than usual. He decided to stay with him as well, and linger near the lockers.
He waited until he could see Kim Dokja again. He went up the stairs, onto the second floor, and into classroom 5-1.
Yoo Joonghyuk followed at a distance, so that he wouldn't scare the other boy off.
Once he reached the door of the classroom, he watched through the small window. Kim Dokja was opening the window inside. Maybe for fresh air? What was he doing here? Then he sat on the ledge.
He opened the door, and rushed into the classroom, praying that Kim Dokja didn't let go before Yoo Joonghyuk could reach him.
He grabbed the other's wrist tightly, preventing his suicide attempt.
He then pulled Kim Dokja back, internally cursing as the boy fell on his back.
However, now wasn't the time for needless complaints.
Kim Dokja was laying on the floor.
"Why?" Yoo Joonghyuk asked. It came out of his mouth before he could stop it, and his voice shook slightly with fear.
Kim Dokja stood up.
The school uniform in the smallest size hung off of his limbs, and he looked deathly pale. He had large dark circles under his eyes from a lack of sleep, and a gaunt face from not eating enough. His bruises hadn't fully healed yet, and the place where Yoo Joonghyuk grabbed him was starting to swell. The wall had been let down for just a moment, when Kim Dokja looked shocked. Two black eyes holding an abyss of knowledge that only he knew. That gaze seemed to be asking, 'Why would someone save me?' But then the wall repaired itself faster than it faltered, and the façade was back. Now, his eyes looked like those of an empty shell again.
Yoo Joonghyuk had been mistaken when he thought Kim Dokja was like a wanderer looking for a purpose. In a way, he was, but that wasn't all to him.
He had a plan. He looked like he had already planned the world's end, with him being at the center of it as the sacrifice to keep the wheels of time moving.
"Because," Kim Dokja responded with an air of casualness. It was the type of casual you'd use to explain something that caught your eye, but not completely. It was not the type of casual you'd use to explain why the fuck you were planning suicide.
"Because isn't an answer," Yoo Joonghyuk said, crossing his arms and scowling.
The other boy remained silent.
He sighed. "Kim Dokja."
"What?" He flinched.
"Answer me." He hated how demanding it sounded. Yoo Joonghyuk was practically incapable of softness, and that was the worst thing to have in a situation like this.
"Don't you know already?" Kim Dokja asked. Probably a test.
"About what? The rumours?"
He nodded.
"I do," Yoo Joonghyuk replied. If he was being honest, he only knew the basics. His mom killed his father, wrote a book about it, and cemented Kim Dokja's fate in stone.
"So then, why'd you save me?"
"I wanted to, Kim Dokja." Because I love you, is what he ignored and didn't say.
Kim Dokja smiled bitterly. He seemed to have made a bad impression already, and this was their first time meeting face-to-face.
"What's your name?" Kim Dokja asked.
"Yoo Joonghyuk," he replied.
"Joonghyuk-nim, why'd you save me? No one asked you to do so." The last part sounded like an accusation.
He grimaced. "Don't use that, Kim Dokja. We're in the same grade." It felt weird being referred to with such a level of politeness.
Thankfully, the other boy nodded.
"I saved you because I didn't want to see you die." It was a half-truth, but unfortunately, lying by omission is still lying. His ears still burned slightly. Probably because of the cold wind from the open window.
"That's nice and all, but what if I didn't need your 'salvation,' Joonghyuk-ssi?" To Yoo Joonghyuk, it sounded more like a question to find out his ulterior motives.
It had a touch of cruel irony as well. To him, Kim Dokja was his salvation. He didn't know when it started, but he latched onto his existence like a fool.
"Well, I'll still save you." He shrugged, since that was a truth that didn't need to be filtered.
"Every time?" Kim Dokja asked with a touch of disbelief, probably thinking that he was insane.
"Every time," he responded.
He offered a hand to Kim Dokja. The latter looked at it with wariness, then eventually gave in and took it.
Kim Dokja's hand was cold, bony, and thin. Yoo Joonghyuk frowned, and led both of them out of the school building.
They walked to his home. The walk was spent in silence between them, with the sound of footsteps and city ambience filling the void. Neither of them wanted to break this fragile atmosphere. The grey skyline of Seoul was filled with towering skyscrapers filled with office workers that probably hated every second of their jobs.
Yoo Joonghyuk ushered Kim Dokja in, since this was his home, after all.
He put his shoes on the shoe rack in the entryway, and he looked at the other boy doing the same.
He took a few steps into the living room, and Kim Dokja followed. His house was big and nice on the outside, but it lacked decorations. It only had the bare essentials, nothing more and nothing less.
"Won't your parents worry, Joonghyuk-ssi?"
"My parents left me to take care of my sister, but they send enough money for me," he admitted. Second truth told.
"Ah. I'm sure you know of mine."
"I don't," Yoo Joonghyuk responded automatically. "What happened?" He asked. He had a vague view of the situation, but he'd like to hear it from the witness himself, not a third party with no connections to it.
"Wait, you didn't read the book?" Kim Dokja asked. His eyes seemed to shine with a small spark of hope.
"No? That would be an invasion of privacy. I've only heard the rumours though." He really didn't believe that he should read the book if it wasn't written with consent of both parties. And to him, it seemed like Kim Dokja hadn't consented to it at all.
Kim Dokja was shocked. He stood there for a moment in silence. "...You actually didn't read it," he murmured. He didn't explain further, and Yoo Joonghyuk would not push further if he chooses to omit details. Besides, he omitted some details as well. Kim Dokja didn't push either, so this is the best he could do.
He scoffed, and went to the kitchen to grab a pink apron that Mia had told his parents to gift him. Apparently she threw a big tantrum about it, and they just couldn't say no to a fit of screaming and crying.
"So what do you want?" He asked. The first thing he'd do is feed Kim Dokja, because he would not let a guest starve in his own house.
"...Omurice," Kim Dokja responded hesitantly. He tried to walk to the kitchen, but Yoo Joonghyuk gently pushed him back.
"Tch. I didn't say you could cook," he scoffed. He internally cursed his lack of softness again.
He retreated to the living room, and sat on the sofa.
Yoo Joonghyuk put a frying pan onto the stove, and turned it on. He poured some oil into the pan, and made sure to be careful. Oil burns are a pain in the ass, and he was speaking from experience. He shuddered at the memory. Omurice was complicated, but he had made it a couple of times when he was bored and looking for a challenge on the weekends. He then grabbed some leftover rice from the fridge, and fried it.
"You'll sleep over here, right?" He blurted that out, then internally cursed himself for asking such a stupid question. His ears burned again, probably from the heat of the stove.
Kim Dokja gaped at him. "What?"
"I said you'll be sleeping over here," he doubled down, since you couldn't take that back cleanly.
"My relatives would—" He had a realization of some sort midway through. "...No, it's fine," he said, sounding like that realization wasn't a good one.
Yoo Joonghyuk was taken aback. Who knew Kim Dokja would be so similar to him in a way?
"Kim Dokja," he said.
"Yes?"
"You're not fine. I know it."
He went back to looking at the stove as soon as he said that, wondering if he had overstepped.
He stirred the rice with a wooden spoon, and he decided that he'd add whatever Kim Dokja chooses as a condiment later. You can't make a sauce instantly, after all.
As he stood over the stove, he wondered why he was aware of Kim Dokja's presence more than anyone else's.
If he thought about it, he was average in some aspects while lacking in others. However, there was always a glint in his eyes that made it look like he already knew how something was going to end before it even started. Almost omniscient, one could say. And his name is a bit unusual. 'Reader,' or 'only child,' depending on who you ask. Both descriptions are correct, and they fit.
The rice was done, and he grabbed a plate to put it on. Then he grabbed a bowl from a cabinet, and three eggs from the fridge. He was speedwalking around the kitchen to grab everything he'd potentially need, but in his defense, he wasn't expecting to make omurice as soon as he got home.
He went back to the stove, and cracked the eggs into the bowl. Then he added a pinch of salt, and he stirred it until it was smooth. Then he went to get another frying pan from a cabinet above the stove. He stood on his tiptoes, but he couldn't reach it. He went to get a stepstool near the dining table, and placed it near the stove.
He finally got the frying pan with the help of a stepstool, so he gently put it on the stove and returned the stepstool to where it was before.
Once he came back to the stove, he poured in the oil in the pan carefully. He grabbed chopsticks to use for stirring the eggs as well. Then he poured in the egg mixture, and quickly stirred it in a spiral motion while shaking the pan to form curds.
This part required a lot of attention, so he didn't think of anything else other than the food in front of him.
The eggs were half-cooked, and he folded the edges of the egg with the chopsticks. He flipped the omelette onto the bed of rice, and set the pan down. His heart was beating fast, probably because he put in so much effort into cooking the omurice. He wiped his forehead, and sighed while placing the dish on the dining table. He grabbed a spoon to put next to the plate shortly after.
"Kim Dokja. Come eat."
He sat at the dining table, while Yoo Joonghyuk had returned to the stove to clean it.
"...Really, thank you, Joonghyuk-ssi. I thought I'd never get to have this again."
"Just eat," he grumbled. His ears were burning, and he aggressively wiped the stove.
He kept cleaning the stove even though it probably didn't need it.
"Joonghyuk-ssi..."
"What?"
"...No, nevermind," Kim Dokja said. Once he finished, he went back to the sofa. Yoo Joonghyuk could hear the click of a TV remote as it turned on.
He stopped wiping the stove. "Kim Dokja?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you watching MasterChef?" He was surprised. Of all the things, he would watch that?
"Yeah. If you want, I can watch something else, it's fine with me—"
Yoo Joonghyuk cut him off. "No. Watch it."
He sat down on the sofa beside Kim Dokja, and the latter seemed to be zoned out. He wondered what he was thinking right now, but decided not to dwell on it.
For now, he could just immerse himself in the world of cooking show contestants and judges.
He even had a faint smile on his face, for once.
And he was certain about one thing. He held positive feelings towards Kim Dokja for inexplicable reasons. Dare he say, he...loves him. Although, that would be exaggerating, right?
Right...?