Chapter Text
Look, Kim Dokja was aware he wasn't the most aweing specimen in the world. He knew, okay? Yes, he was relatively plain looking with no remarkable qualities to him, but did people really have to seem so surprised when he told them Yoo Joonghyuk was his rival?
Sure, Yoo Joonghyuk was a Greek God among men and among other Gods, and sure, his body was sculpted by the adoring hands of a sculptor who'd fallen in love with the very idea of their Magnum Opus, but he wasn't that great. He had the personality of stale toast bread and the vocabulary of a brick wall; and that was on top of being as emotionally available as concrete! At least Kim Dokja could hold a conversation without sending the other running with their tail between their legs. Seriously, just what was so great about Yoo-fucking-Joonghyuk that had people panting in heat on the floor at the thought of him?
"I did not need to hear this at 2 am." Through the very bad quality of his (very broken and very, very old) phone's speaker, Kim Dokja frowned as he spread himself out onto his bed starfish-style. Han Sooyoung, who was on the other line, was his best friend. Actually, she was his only friend, but that was a minor detail that could be ignored, because, technically, Yoo Joonghyuk counted as a kinda-sorta-maybe-perhaps friend, too, right? And sometimes Yoo Sangah spoke to him, so that had to count for something.
"No, no, I'm telling you, Sooyoung. Something's wrong here." He went on, because he always did, no matter how much Han Sooyoung did not, in fact, want to listen to his eighteenth hundred rant about his quote unquote "rival". "You think he's drugging the school's water? Why else would everyone want to hop on his dick?" Personality wise, Kim Dokja was much better, yet he'd never even gotten the offer to pop his cherry, yet Yoo Joonghyuk only had to breathe and-
"Maybe for the same reason you do?" Was his best friend of seven years' reply. The absolute traitor.
"I DO NOT WANT TO HOP ON YOO JOONGHYUK'S DICK!"
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"You yelled that with your window open, didn't you." Kim Dokja's entire body burned with the embarrassment of his outburst. "The window across Yoo Joonghyuk's own window, which is also always open." Kim Dokja decided, yup, now's the perfect time to kill myself, actually. because it was, now that his rival since middle school, who conveniently lived across from him, and kept his attic bedroom's window open 24/7 (even now, in the month of February), had most definitely awoken to the startling sound of Kim Dokja crazily screaming about his dick.
Okay, maybe Kim Dokja could understand why people were shell-shocked upon discovering his rivalry with Yoo Joonghyuk. Because no matter what grades Kim Dokja got, Kim Dokja was actually the biggest idiot on the planet. So big an idiot, in fact, that he made eighteen year-long cocaine addicts seem more capable of common sense. Which they were, because Kim Dokja doubted eighteen year-long cocaine addicts were currently having a staring competition with their rival-neighbor-guy through each other's bedroom windows from across the street, one just looking slightly more angry than the other, who in turn, had gone so pale he'd become one with his white curtains.
Through his window, Yoo Joonghyuk's face seemed to grow impossibly more enraged with every passing second, and with every passing second, Kim Dokja wished just a little harder that Han Sooyoung's very loud cackling would cease.
A hand. A hand reached out to grab Yoo Joonghyuk's own, and Kim Dokja paled even more (as improbable as that may be, considering he was sure there was no shade paler than how he already looked,) as it registered in his mind just how disheveled Yoo Joonghyuk was. And then it clicked to him.
Oh my fucking God, Yoo Joonghyuk was having sex with someone while he said that.
"Han Sooyoung, please, for the love of God, stop fucking laughing."
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Han Sooyoung did not, in fact, stop laughing. Rather, she continued to laugh into the morning and throughout their first class of the day. Kim Dokja, on the other hand, did not find the situation quite as funny as she did. After all, he was the one who took seven different detours avoiding his neighbor and even took an earlier train to avoid Yoo Joonghyuk who, for some reason, kept popping up where Kim Dokja was sure he'd be safe from the man.
"Kim Dokja, you've always been an idiot, but this is fucking golden." Han Sooyoung, who'd finally finished cackling, was wiping away stray tears as she sipped on her iced coffee. She giggled then sighed, trying to remain calm. "He was having sex, and you screamed, at the top of your lungs, about wanting to hop on his dick."
He glared. "About not wanting to hop on his dick, actually." He didn't really know why he felt the need to correct her, considering it didn't really matter at this point under which context Yoo Joonghyuk's dick had been part of their conversation, because either way, he was royally fucked. Because not only was Yoo Joonghyuk aware that, in the end, his dick had been part of the conversation: Yoo Joonghyuk could now also make the assumption that Kim Dokja thought about him 24/7. Which he didn't. It's just, sometimes, things remind Kim Dokja of the sunfish. Like the particularly large cherry blossom in the campus garden, or strangely handsome black Pomeranian that glares at him with teary black eyes every time he passes the pet shop on his way to the bakery for a lemon pie slice. (Kim Dokja's been considering adopting the little thing, actually, since his loving adoptive parents funded him with more money than a single 24-year-old living in a small one bedroom apartment needed. Maybe he'll name it Hyukie.)
"Kim Dokja stop daydreaming about your man-crush and tell me what happened after."
"He's not my crush." He snapped, cheeks red. "And he just stared at me before going back to his business, or whatever."
Kim Dokja's cup noodles remained untouched as Han Sooyoung continued to laugh at his expense, the smell almost nauseating to him. Han Sooyoung caught on and stopped her laughing. "Hey, Kim Dokja, eat." She pointed her chopsticks in his face, waving them around with a cocky air. "You lost like, nine pounds in a week." She berated, pushing his food closer to him. Kim Dokja frowned but took a bite, finding his food tasted like cardboard. Whatever, nothing's tasted right all day since... ehem, that.
Kim Dokja had been with Yoo Joonghyuk since middle school. They were the longest constants in each other's life. Still, Kim Dokja really could have lived without knowing what his childhood rival looked like during sex. Or after sex. When interrupted during sex? Sex.
Kim Dokja swirled his noodles with his chopsticks, pondering the reasons why he'd been forsaken by the Gods and left to suffer the humiliation that was last night and had gotten so deep into cursing the deities that he had not noticed when Han Sooyoung had decided, she, too, was a God and left him behind. Nor had he noticed that Yoo Joonghyuk was standing right behind him, all 6 feet of pure muscle and rage, which had been the reason Han Sooyoung made like a God and poof-ed out of existence.
Kim Dokja had noticed, however, that his back was oddly very warm. Which was weird, because Kim Dokja's body was practically below zero degrees at all times. He was only warm when he had fevers, which were becoming more common nowadays.
So, Kim Dokja, cool as a cucumber, continued to poke and prod at the food he was supposed to be eating, thinking about the unfairness of life and the image of Yoo Joonghyuk, disheveled and sweaty after-during?-sex. Which was a weird thought to have about your rival. Kim Dokja should probably see a therapist about that, because he was sure people didn't picture their long-time rival's sexed up body in the middle of lunch at their college's campus. Huh.
"Kim Dokja." Damn, Kim Dokja's imagination was amazing. Yoo Joonghyuk sounded so real even in his head. Wait a damn minute, that wasn't even something to be happy about! Why the hell could he imagine Yoo Joonghyuk so vividly? And why was Yoo Joonghyuk saying his name in the first place? Wasn't the bastard courting Lee Seolhwa? Honestly speaking, Kim Dokja couldn't understand what was so great about her. Sure, she was stunning, but there was better. Like, people with simpler features, with black, short hair, or who, you know, had been with him for-
"Kim. Dok. Ja."
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That did not, in fact, come from Kim Dokja's imagination, Kim Dokja found out as he turned around and was met with well sculpted abs hugged by a black sleeveless turtleneck. Huh. Anyway, it was safe to say that Kim Dokja had acted like a cool, rational adult and immediately proceeded to faint from the shock.
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"I think he might actually be stupid." Fuck you , Han Sooyoung, Kim Dokja thought as he pretended to be still passed out, secretly agreeing with her. I don't need to hear this from a raging lesbian who can't even breathe around Yoo Sangah.