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[The constellation ‘Demon-like judge of fire’ says it’s time to grow your missing pair of balls and propose.]
“…”
[The constellation ‘Prisoner of the Golden Headband’ is nodding his head in solemn agreement.]
“…”
[The constellation ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon’ is rolling his eyes at Incarnation ‘Yoo Jonghyuk’]
“…”
[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ offers to recommend tips to woo the constellation ‘Demon King of Salvation’]
He finally grunts in irritation. “Shut up. You know nothing.”
[The constellation ‘Secretive plotter’ says jealousy is a disease and you’re Stage Four]
…These damned sons of bitches.
“Yoo Jonghyuk, is something the matter?” It’s a familiar voice that chimes amid the voyeuristic Gods’ unsolicited messages. His heart unwittingly skips a beat. Fuck.
Bitter, dismissive words, itching to leave the home they’d made on his tongue across several lifetimes, are now held back as he remembers words from a certain conversation under the moon.
(Be gentle. Cherish him. Isn’t it obvious?)
But how.
(Aw fuck, I forgot you have the emotional quotient of a rock, ugh, anyway here’s how-)
“…Hey, I didn’t die today, okay? You can’t glare at me like that.”
The shorter man pouts in mock irritation (Absolutely adorable, Yoo Jonghyuk’s lone braincell unhelpfully supplies), but his eyes are questioning, contemplative, and betray his fear of being possibly subjected to another of Jonghyuk’s infamous chokehol-
Wait. What.
???
Glare??
Yoo Jonghyuk is pretty sure he followed all the instructions and twisted his face just right to look- what did the witch call it? - warm. Welcoming. Kind.
Ew.
He’d gagged and promptly drawn his sword at her incriminating suggestion right there.
And he still would, but this is Kim Dokja.
His companion, his comrade, his pillar of existence, his will to live, the love of his life, obnoxious in his wit and unbreakable in the face of obstacles, kindness peeking beneath curt commands, a frail heart trembling under words hastily dismissed as a joke, an enigma cut from the cloth of this mystifying universe, calculating obsidian eyes seated above an equally cocky smirk, in all the splendour of dazzling molts of blinding white feathers sprouting from a pale, skinny back, horns donning the semblance of blood decorating where an illusory crown sits on his head.
Kim Dokja is the human version of the One-Hundred emoji, and maybe even the inspiration behind the blazing fire emoji, so Yoo Jonghyuk can afford to hold back the gag reflex for this tiny, not-really-but-kinda fat crush of his. Just once.
It almost kills him, of course, but he’s not weak. If Kim Dokja can sport a death count fanning in double digits with the smuggest pride known to man (and demons alike), Jonghyuk can sacrifice a bit of cringe. As long as it pays off, and wins him a rare flustered reaction from the object of his aggressive affections.
Yet…
Why does Kim Dokja have to look so offensively frightened at his face???
Was his painfully sculpted expression not soft enough?
Did his wide, stretched lips not convey enough ‘warmth’ (or whatever the fuck that meant)?
Were all those praises about his face, from envious party members to mesmerized strangers, just flaming lies?
[The constellation ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon’ is laughing at your expression]
[The constellation ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon’ has sponsored 300 coins for your misery!]
[The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ has passed away from second-hand embarrassment]
[The constellation ‘Prisoner of the Golden Headband’ thinks you are stupid]
[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ says ‘Good’]
Wonderful.
The constellations are making merry (or murder, in Uriel’s case) of his failure, Kim Dokja is still an ignorant little ethereal fucker, his own affections are screaming to break through the tsundere confines of his heart, and he is exactly two (2) seconds away from regressing right into the next worldline.
And he almost, almost did, right there, but-
“Hm? Ooh I got it, it’s constipation, isn’t it?” Kim Dokja snaps his fingers in the immediate euphoria of epiphany, too damn proud as he announces haughtily, “I told you not to scarf down the dumplings, are you happy now? I think I have a pill leftover from the last scenario-”
Ah.
Right.
His singular reason for becoming a ‘former’ regressor.
He fights the strange, heated distortion threatening to break on his face. Damn rat bastards with their stupid, useless, beautiful eyes.
“…I…” He interrupts stiffly, because using alphabets and words to communicate thoughts like a functional, non-sociopathic adult well-integrated into society is so yesterday, right?
Kim Dokja moves closer, carefully waiting on, hanging on to the threadbare trail of stuttered syllables that manage to break out of his mouth, and if Yoo Jonghyuk’s palms are sweaty, it’s nobody else’s business but his to lose sleep over-
[The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ has requested to issue Confession Guide for the Resting Bitch-faced Disaster Gays from the library of Eden]
[The request has been denied.]
[The Incarnation of Eden’s Librarian says Uriel shut the fuck up, not this again]
[The constellation ‘Demon-like judge of Fire’ is activating ‘Hell’s Flames’ in retaliation]
[Activation has been cancelled!]
[The constellation ‘Prisoner of the Golden Headband’ is worried about the constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’]
[The constellation ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon’ is munching on caramel popcorn]
[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ thinks Incarnation ‘Yoo Jonghyuk’ should just let him take over]
…For one hot, wonderful, sinful second where Kim Dokja, his daydream, his goal, was just a fleeting breath away from his own being, irises drenched in tense, naïve patience, he’d forgotten that, unfortunately, the star stream lived notorious for making everyone’s business their own.
“Earth to Jonghyuk? Hello? Hey." Pale fingers softly latch onto his forearm, tugging ever so slightly. A simple gesture it is, yet one that dowses him in inexplicable warmth. Lips he's found himself looking at alarmingly often recently, now pulled low in worry, worsen the sensation raging hot in his veins. He decides to ignore it.
"Jonghyuk-ah, we'll figure it out together - whatever it is that's bothering you. So, talk to me.” He can't. He was foolish to ever think he could ignore Kim Dokja.
Yoo Jonghyuk is no stranger to utterances stemming from genuine concern, met with in every regression and every battle, and he supposes he’s always been fortunate in that aspect.
So why, when these same words, woven into a momentary delicate whisper by this man’s lips, punch him harder than the shock of battling even the most formidable outer gods?
[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ not-whispers that Incarnation ‘Yoo Jonghyuk’ is just really, really gay]
[The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ has sponsored ‘Secretive Plotter’ 10,000 coins!]
[Transaction failed: Probability error detected.]
Yoo Jonghyuk exhales deeply, because at this point, this is all the reply he can muster under the strain of unforgiving palpitations as his now very awake emotion-induced fluff boner and him escape the scene like cowardly little bitches.
[The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ has left the chat]
[The constellation ‘Prisoner of the Golden Headband’ is tearing his hair out in frustration.]
[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ has sponsored one (1) coin to Incarnation ‘Yoo Jonghyuk’!]
[The constellation ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon’ can’t believe they wasted his time again.]
The messages pile in, and Kim Dokja is left lone under the sun, whispering a soft, tender, What the fuck just happened.
.
.
.
Hours later, a broad-shouldered man, draped in black, drowning in defeated gloom, emotion boner relieved, emanating the aura of death itself in a kind of post-nut clarity, is sat stressed upon his bed, practicing the taste of three words on his lips, each attempt dipped in varying amounts of gentle and heart-felt, when, suddenly-
[The constellation ‘The Demon King of Salvation’ is looking at Incarnation ‘Yoo Jonghyuk’]
And just like that, things start falling into place.