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Dinner party wear. Dinner party wear. Kim Dokja stares at his closet until his eyes burn. What do people even wear to dinner parties…?!
This has to be the third time today he’s stood here like this, examining each article of clothing in his closet and assessing if it suits ‘dinner party wear.’ Sure, his friend had told him not to worry about it too much since it wasn’t like anyone would really care, and Kim Dokja had accepted that at the time, but now he can’t help but worry anyway. What if he dresses completely wrong for the occasion and everyone thinks he looks like an idiot? Well, Kim Dokja has dealt with having the wrong sort of attention on him before, but for once he’d really rather not look worse than he usually does…
“Dokja-ya?”
Kim Dokja jolts and bangs his foot against his closet door. “A-Ahjussi?!”
Lee Hyunsung is standing by the doorway of his room, peering curiously in. “What are you looking at your clothes so hard for? It’s like you’re going on a date.”
“What? No, of course not?! W-Why would I go on a date with that freak Han Sooyoung?!”
“…I didn’t even mention Sooyoung-ie?”
“Hahaha. Ahjussi, you’re so funny,” Kim Dokja babbles, trying to very casually kick his closet shut and very casually sit down on his bed. “So, uh, what did you come here for? What do you need?”
“We’ve been calling you down for dinner for five minutes now… and…” Lee Hyunsung stares down at him, gaze following Kim Dokja’s movements as he wipes his palms on his shirt, stands up from bed again, unplugs his phone from its charger, and rights his fish plushie from where it had fallen on its side. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
Yes! I’m totally fine and definitely not thinking about what to wear! Kim Dokja should say. He opens his mouth to say just that, even adding a smile for good measure.
Lee Hyunsung looks patiently at him.
After several seconds of silence, Kim Dokja buries his face in his hands. “No, okay, I’m not alright, I need help. Please help me.”
In his defense, Kim Dokja had thought it seemed like a fairly innocent invitation when he first asked.
A few weeks ago, he’d been invited to his classmate’s older sister’s 19th birthday party, and he was allowed to bring a plus-one. Considering how almost everyone else in class was invited as well, the choice was obvious. Kim Dokja pulled his phone out right there and opened his text messages with Han Sooyoung, before thinking better of it and going to their Textpia messages instead; sometimes she ignores his texts during class, but she always opens notifications from Textpia in case it’s a new comment on her webnovel.
His classmate had laughed. “That was fast! That your girlfriend or something?”
Kim Dokja almost dropped his phone. “What? No, of course not. As if. I’d never — I mean, no way — She wouldn’t even—”
“Okay, chill. Are you sure, though? Only girlfriends go all the way to their boyfriends’ school to wait for him at the entrance gates, don’t you think?”
This time Kim Dokja really did drop his phone. “What the — What are you talking about? She doesn’t—” Wait, Han Sooyoung does. “I mean, that doesn’t mean she’s my—” Wait, now he remembers plenty of his classmates with boyfriends and girlfriends in other schools go to wait for them at the entrance gates after classes. “I… Well…”
“Whoa, easy.” His classmate caught his phone before it could shatter to pieces on the floor and shoved it back in his hands, though not before peeking at the screen. “Wait a sec, what kinda nickname is ‘BlackFlameEmperor?’ Not even a heart emoji?”
Kim Dokja snatched his phone back. “See? She’s not my girlfriend. We’re just friends.”
After all, he’s reasoned time and time again, it’s not as if Han Sooyoung likes him. Does she? They’ve been friends for nearly a year now, sure, and there had been all those times where they may have slept over at each other’s places or gone on outings with just the two of them, but that doesn’t mean anything! Those are things two good friends can also do! It doesn’t matter that Kim Dokja has caught himself staring at her face more than once when she’s not paying attention. Or that he thinks about her at random times of the day and gets so distracted he walks into walls and fire hydrants and lamp posts. Or that he sometimes stays up until three in the morning staring at his ceiling because he’s imagined fifty different scenarios, each one more improbable than the last, where Han Sooyoung simply has no choice but to live with them because her house is under construction and they have to share his bedroom and one night they’re getting closer and closer…
…Anyway, that doesn’t matter. And if Han Sooyoung actually likes him, which is a big if… Every time Kim Dokja thinks about this, he gets too embarrassed to think about it any further. It just wouldn’t work, he tells himself. They might be comfortable enough with each other to sleep in the same bed and all, but that doesn’t mean they could be a good… couple… or whatever. In the first place, he doubts he could even be a good boyfriend. All he does is annoy her whenever he reminds her of a plot hole in her webnovel.
In any case, all this was to say that Kim Dokja typed out the invitation with these thoughts. If Han Sooyoung didn’t like him, then there was no way this text would be taken as an invitation to a date. They could just go to someone’s birthday party and enjoy the free food as two good friends. He definitely wasn’t thinking of anything else as he sent, Want to go out for dinner?
Of course, as soon as he did press the send button, he realized how lacking in detail that invitation was. And so he added, Got invited to a friend’s sister’s birthday party and can bring a plus-one. And then, because he sounded way too boring and he was getting nervous after exactly 30 seconds of silence, he added again, There’ll be free food lol.
“Dude,” his classmate said. “Are you sure you’re not the girlfriend here? Triple-texting, really?”
Han Sooyoung eventually replied about half an hour later, acting her usual annoying self — u wanna go on a date with me so bad it makes u look stupid — and then they exchanged insults back and forth for another hour. But she said yes in the end, and Kim Dokja hadn’t thought much of it afterwards; after all, if she was fooling around and calling him an idiot, then she probably didn’t think it was a date either. Right?
It made sense at the time. Now, in his bedroom two weeks afterwards, he’s not so sure. Could she have seriously thought it was a date?! It’s not! It can’t be! Sure, Kim Dokja had sweated and stressed about making his text invite sound as un-date-like as possible so he wouldn’t accidentally make Han Sooyoung uncomfortable, but still! Anyway, it’s not like he can just come out and say, “By the way Han Sooyoung this isn’t a date, haha,” during the date — ahem, during the party itself, so…
“…I feel bad for this girl,” Lee Jihye says, looking pityingly down at him.
“You’ve got zero game, kid,” Kim Namwoon adds. He has the nerve to sound sorry for him.
Kim Dokja groans. “What’s that supposed to mean? You two came in here saying you’d give me advice, but so far you’ve just made fun of my clothes!”
“Well…” Kim Namwoon snickers. “I mean — just look at you! All grown-up now, huh, little man?”
Lee Jihye mimes sweeping her hair off her forehead. “Uriel-noona won’t forget to slick your hair back, will she? Remind her for me, alright?”
At first Kim Dokja had tried passing the dinner party off as just any casual party, but it became quickly apparent he did not have the skills needed to so much as pick his own clothes out. Probably because he didn’t have anything that qualified for dinner party wear in the first place, which was why Uriel, upon finding out Kim Dokja had nothing to wear for a party literally this weekend, had personally picked him up after school one day, broke 80 kilometers an hour on her drive to the department store, and bought him… well… dinner party wear.
“It’s perfect,” she had cooed, clasping her hands together and looking every part the doting mother all the sales staff at the store assumed she was. “You’ll be the envy of everyone in there! Ah, no, I suppose Sooyoung-ie would be the one being envied there. Don’t you think, Dokja-ya?”
“Uh,” Kim Dokja said.
“Oh, of course! It’ll be much better if we get you more choices. Come on, let’s go look at the next place. Excuse me!” She waved at one of the salespeople waiting nearby. “I’ll take this one!”
“Wait,” Kim Dokja tried.
Uriel gently but firmly steered him back into the dressing room. “Quickly! We’ve still got the rest of the department store to go!”
At the time, the clothes she had picked out seemed nice enough, and Kim Dokja couldn’t deny her constant shower of praise every time he tried something new had bolstered his wavering confidence, even if he wanted to shrivel up and die of embarrassment every time he looked in the mirror. So he went along with her suggestions, but now he’s wondering if taking suggestions from an archangel several thousands of years old had been a bad idea after all, if the way Kim Namwoon and Lee Jihye keep straightening his tie or smoothing his cuff links is any indication.
“Oh, come on. Fine, you look great,” Lee Jihye says, when Kim Dokja scowls up at her. “Really, you don’t have to worry that much. If this Sooyoung-ie likes you so much—”
“When did I say that?”
“—she’ll laugh at you no matter what you look like. So don’t sweat it.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better at all.”
“No, that’s absolutely true,” Kim Namwoon says, solemnly. “Trying to impress girls with your clothes never works. You gotta pull off something crazy instead. It’s someone’s birthday party, right? Lemme see… Maybe if you set something on fire and—”
“Yeah, stop right there.”
“Why? You scared to think about how cool it’d be, Lee Jihye?!”
“You’re no help at all! Kid, if you really wanna look good, you should bring her somewhere else after the party,” Lee Jihye says, shaking her head as if disappointed she’s surrounded by such stupid men. “For example, a bar—”
“No, I don’t think so,” Kim Dokja says, paling at the thought of a drunken Han Sooyoung. “And will you two get out already? Neither of you are any good at this!”
Scarcely five minutes after Kim Dokja kicks Kim Namwoon and Lee Jihye out of his room does Uriel, carrying what looks like her entire dresser, come flouncing in to take their place. “Dokja-ya!” she cries, which is enough to send a shudder down Kim Dokja’s spine. “Are you excited? Tonight’s finally the night! Ooh, you’re dressed already! Good, good, we can give you your makeover right away!”
“Um,” Kim Dokja says, weakly, “no, I don’t think that’s nece—”
“Nonsense.” Uriel smiles, abruptly reminding Kim Dokja of how she looks when armed with a flaming sword instead of a makeup brush. “Now sit down and relax. You,” she declares, “are going to be the cutest little boy anyone has ever—”
“Noona!”
Of course, Kim Dokja has no choice. Uriel sits him down in front of the mirror in his room and after that Kim Dokja keeps his eyes closed, because he has no desire to watch whatever is going to happen to him.
“Done!” Uriel cheerily says, half a torturous hour later. Kim Dokja has to psych himself up for several long seconds before he can bring himself to open his eyes to his reflection. “What do you think? This has to be my finest work yet! Tsk, if Captain let me do this to him once in a while, he’d look at least 200 years younger. As usual, Hyunsung-ie is the only one with a brain around here. Wait, so? How do you feel, Dokja-ya?”
Kim Dokja assesses his face, realizes he’s going to have more makeup on than Han Sooyoung will, and concludes, “Ridiculous.”
Uriel’s face falls. “Don’t say that! You look wonderful!”
Kim Dokja’s not so sure about that, but he supposes he can acknowledge something. “You’re really good at this sort of thing, noona,” he concedes, relieved when it looks like the right thing to say; Uriel lights up and she puffs her chest out, looking more proud about this than she did when she finally made something in the kitchen without burning it to a crisp. “But, uh… will this really… help…?”
“Hmm? Help with what?”
“Uh…” Kim Dokja feels ready to pass out from embarrassment. Because, okay, fine, maybe he has a crush. Maybe he likes Han Sooyoung a little, even if she’s a total weirdo and a complete freak and his best friend. And maybe he can’t figure out what or how to feel about this, because no matter how many contrived romance subplots he’s read in his trashy webnovels, none of them had ever quite explained how it works in real life. Reading about butterflies in some poor sop’s stomach is one thing. Constantly feeling this aching, throbbing, burning heat in his chest is something else entirely.
Even if Han Sooyoung likes him back — for once Kim Dokja returns to this train of thought, tries to face its headlights head-on. Even if she likes him back, how could he really… do anything for her that others can’t? What can he give her that other richer, smarter, stronger, better people can’t? He stares at this reflection he almost doesn’t recognize and knows, just appearance-wise, she’s already out of his league. What are the odds that he can play in any of the other fields?
“…Dokja-ya.”
“Ah.” He’d almost forgotten Uriel is still standing there, looking patiently down at him. “Sorry. Never mind. It — It’s nothing important.”
But she doesn’t look away or change the subject, and Kim Dokja supposes she wouldn’t have no matter what. Instead Uriel just smiles down at him, small and warm and just a little sad. “Are you worried about Sooyoung-ie?” she asks. For once, Kim Dokja doesn’t deny it, just manages a single jerky nod. “You don’t need to be. She’s known you for so long already — it’s not like you’ll start disappointing her now.”
Something about how Uriel says for so long makes Kim Dokja’s heart strain against his ribs, the wings of some forgotten memory beating hard and fast. “I… don’t know…”
“Love can be scary, can’t it?” Uriel asks, softly. Kim Dokja wants to say this isn’t love, they’re just… But then he doesn’t know how to finish that, doesn’t even know what they are anymore when they both know he and Han Sooyoung are well past being just friends. “I thought so. It’s scary and hard and confusing… but it’s other things too. Much better things. Don’t you think?”
Love… For a long moment all Kim Dokja can think about is Mother, the knife in her hand, the blood on her face, the whisper of her breath. Was that love? For a long while that was all the love Kim Dokja had known. For a long few weeks and months and years, until that cold December day when he staggered to the hospital computer and wondered if there was anything out there that could tell him how to survive. Despite everything, despite it all, he had wanted so badly for those better things.
If not for that novel, if not for that love…
“Yeah,” Kim Dokja says, at length. “I… think I get it.”
“Ah, Dokja-ya, you’re not allowed to cry. Your makeup will get all wet!”
“I’m not crying…”
When Kim Dokja finally swallows his shame and drags himself out of his room and down the stairs, he almost runs back up when he sees everyone gathered near the front door as if they’re all going to the party together. “Can you all please go away,” Kim Dokja all but pleads, when the five of them just stand there waiting for him to go out the door. “I don’t need all of you to drive me to her place! Are you going to take turns at the wheel or something?”
“Wait,” Kim Namwoon whispers, still perfectly audibly, “we’re not going to the party too?”
“No!”
“Aw, man,” Lee Jihye sighs.
“Wouldn’t it be safer to have a chaperone, Dokja—”
“No!” Kim Dokja repeats, emphatically, and only feels a little guilty when Lee Hyunsung visibly droops. More calmly, Kim Dokja adds, speaking slowly to drill the words into their heads, “It’s not like we’re preschoolers on our first field trip. We don’t need a chaperone. It’s just a dinner party. We’ll be safe.”
Kim Namwoon rolls his eyes. “That’s what they all say.”
It takes Kim Dokja a moment to understand what he means, but before he can sputter out an indignant response and a lengthy explanation as to why Kim Namwoon should be glad Han Sooyoung isn’t around to hear that, Yoo Joonghyuk thankfully interrupts. “Fine. No chaperones. Now get in the car or you’ll be late.”
“Captain, you’re disappointed you can’t go either, right?”
“Lee Jihye. You’re on dishwashing duty.”
“What?! Hey, wait, tonight’s supposed to be Hyunsung-ahjussi’s turn!”
Kim Dokja’s relief at finally getting out of the house is pitifully short-lived. As soon as Uriel straps herself in the passenger seat (she insisted she couldn’t miss Dokja-ya’s first time going on a date, never mind how many times Kim Dokja has corrected her about this being only a party) and they get on the road, Yoo Joonghyuk clears his throat. “Now listen,” he says.
Kim Dokja is getting a very bad feeling about this.
“If you are planning to stay… somewhere… overnight,” Yoo Joonghyuk says, with great difficulty and to Kim Dokja’s horror, “you must inform us first.”
“Ahjussi…” Kim Dokja groans.
“I do not approve of this before 20 years of age, but I approve of making mistakes even less.”
“Ahjussi…”
“Ugh, you’re horrible at this,” Uriel says, shaking her head in the exact same way Lee Jihye had just earlier. “Don’t listen to him, Dokja-ya. Okay, listen up! I know books and movies make it look easy and natural, but absolutely do not try to copy anything from them! They don’t work as they should at all. Trust me. What you should do is—”
“—ask for permission,” Yoo Joonghyuk interjects, “and only proceed once you have received clear consent—”
“—Don’t you trust our Dokja to know basic decency?! Okay, well, after that, you should make sure she’s comfortable with you—”
Kim Dokja wants to bury his face in his hands again, before remembering Uriel’s stern instructions not to touch his face, and resorts to staring out the car window and wallowing in his misery as Yoo Joonghyuk and Uriel bicker over whether following instruction or intuition is better.
After what has to be the worst car ride of his life, they arrive at Han Sooyoung’s place; no matter how many times Kim Dokja comes to visit, the tall stone walls and the huge steel gates never get any less imposing. He checks his pockets to make sure no kkomas are trying to hitchhike, then steps out of the car. “Are you sure you want to walk?” Yoo Joonghyuk asks, rolling the window down to speak to him. “You could just bring her here.”
This must be the third time he’s offered. Kim Dokja sighs. “No, it’s okay. The restaurant’s not that far from here.” Driving the rest of the way had been tempting at first, but then he’d had a brief vision of Uriel cooing over the both of them in the confines of the backseat and had decided it wasn’t worth it.
Yoo Joonghyuk squints like he doesn’t believe him. “Have everything you need?”
“Yeah, I—”
“You remember what I told you?”
“Seriously, nothing will—”
“Be careful. And be safe.” Then he rolls the window up, giving Uriel a split second to wave a cheery goodbye before they drive off.
…Well, at least Kim Dokja can finally catch a break. Even if they mean well, Yoo Joonghyuk and Uriel and everyone else… can be just a bit overbearing sometimes. Especially when they get strange ideas in their head about this being a date Kim Dokja needs advice on. Obviously this isn’t a date, and obviously he doesn’t need advice about it, and obviously he hasn’t carefully memorized everything Yoo Joonghyuk and Uriel said in the car just now, just in case he ever finds a need for it.
He heads in through the gates, greeting the security guard a good evening, and gets as far as the front door, finger ready on the bell, before freezing up.
Why is he freezing up? There’s nothing to be nervous about, he tells himself. How many times have they gone out on little outings together, just hanging out like two good friends who have never thought about each other romantically, ever? They’re just friends. Hanging out. There’s no reason to be nervous. There’s no reason for him to get all sweaty and shaky now. There’s no reason for him to sneakily check his reflection on his phone camera. There’s definitely no reason for him to pace the garden path three times, telling himself this is just like any normal hang-out. Outing. Playdate… date…
This isn’t working…!
By the time he’s finally worked up the nerve to return to the door, Han Sooyoung’s security guard is raising an eyebrow at him from the front gate. Kim Dokja manages a stupid wave in his direction before turning to face the insurmountable doorbell before him once more. Nothing to it. With a deep breath, he finally rings the bell.
And almost jumps out of his skin when Han Sooyoung flings the door open in under three seconds. “About time! I’ve been waiting forever!” she says in lieu of a greeting. “Let’s get going before we’re — wait. Your hair.” Her eyes widen, and then she starts cackling. “Your face. Your clothes? Oh my god, you look ridiculous. What’s with the tux? Are those flowers? You gonna give the birthday celebrant flowers?”
Kim Dokja had nearly forgotten about the bouquet of roses he’d been holding onto this whole time. “Oh, right.” He shoves them in her face, effectively cutting off the rest of her practically hysterical laughter. “Here. They’re for you.”
Han Sooyoung goes abruptly silent and abruptly red.
Which is good, because now Kim Dokja can also go silent and red, for now he sees she’s not in her usual school uniform or street clothes but rather in… well… a dress. He has no idea what kind it is, but it’s a nice purple dress that covers her neck, shows her shoulders, and does very awful things to his heart. She’s wearing high heels. She’s wearing lipstick. And she’s still making a weird face like she ate something bitter and is trying not to cough it up, but sometimes Kim Dokja is forcefully reminded of how Han Sooyoung actually is… kind of pretty…
“What…” Han Sooyoung chokes out, bringing Kim Dokja out of his daze. Her cheeks are flushed a dark red, but she turns away before Kim Dokja can make fun of her for it. “Why would you… flowers… Stupid, is this a date or something…”
“Too embarrassed to shout anymore?”
“Shut up! Whatever, give those here, I-I’ll look for a… a vase!” She makes as if to snatch the bouquet from his hands, but when Kim Dokja dutifully hands them over, Han Sooyoung hesitates before taking them a little more carefully than usual. She gives him a dirty look, like somehow he’s already done something stupid within the past three minutes, then storms into her house. “You can come in first. Or freeze out there, I don’t care.”
She doesn’t have a vase, so she rinses an empty, leftover soda can sitting by the sink to place the roses in. “What? Pretty neat, right?” she says, when Kim Dokja gives them a long, despondent look. “Recycling’s good for the environment and all.”
“Uriel-noona spent an hour at the florist’s for that, and you put it in a soda can…”
“Quit acting like a clingy girlfriend. We should go now,” Han Sooyoung says, glancing down at her phone and making a face. “We’re gonna be late! This is all your fault! Was the traffic heavy on the way here or something?”
Kim Dokja just smiles, because that’s infinitely easier than admitting he had arrived several minutes early but had spent those several minutes walking laps around Han Sooyoung’s garden. “Did I mention you look good tonight, Sooyoung-ah?”
“…Now you’re acting like a boyfriend with a secret agenda. Let’s just go.”
Well, Kim Dokja can certainly say the free food is good.
He’s been to a few other birthday parties before, but they had all been fairly lowkey and with far less people than this restaurant is currently housing, so he doesn’t have much in way of comparison. Still, it’s not so bad: Kim Dokja got to introduce Han Sooyoung (who is just his friend) to some of his classmates, and as thanks for coming they get to take home complimentary dessert boxes full of sweets like cupcakes and macarons. Kim Dokja tried one, decided Yoo Joonghyuk’s baking is much better, and gave his to Han Sooyoung, because she’s happy to eat tooth-aching trash.
It’s just that… Kim Dokja’s friend failed to mention the party would have drinks.
So far, Kim Dokja and Han Sooyoung have watched all the other celebrants, most of them college students, slowly get more and more drunk over the course of the last hour and a half, until they’ve finally reached the point where they’re breaking out into song or weeping on each other’s laps. The security guards have broken up three different fights. So, Kim Dokja thinks, maybe it’s time to leave? Can they even leave? The celebrant has offered them soju and told them to ‘get super drunk’ twice now?
“What, don’t you wanna try?” Han Sooyoung whines, holding the shot glass up. Despite Kim Dokja’s polite refusal, the host had pushed the glasses into their hands anyway before running off. “Aren’t you curious?”
“Ugh, no. Joonghyuk-ahjussi will smell it on me.” And because the smell still reminds him of… but never mind that.
“Che. That won’t be a problem if you just sleep over at my place,” Han Sooyoung says, apparently perfectly unaware of how that has Kim Dokja’s brain blue-screening, shutting down, rebooting, then shutting down all over again. If she is aware of how her words had sounded just now, she does an impeccable job at acting casual about it, because she doesn’t even look at him as she lifts the glass up to her mouth.
Only upon seeing that does Kim Dokja snap out of the downward spiral of thoughts his mind had instantly plunged into at the thought of sleeping over. “Whoa, wait. Han Sooyoung. Five… I mean, fifteen-year-olds haven’t developed the mental faculties needed to handle alcohol yet.”
“You said five on purpose, didn’t you?!”
“Either way, do you really want to turn into an alcoholic?”
“Who’s turning into what now? Tch, a beautiful genius girl writer needs to experience things for herself so she can accurately write about them in her works,” Han Sooyoung says, holding her shot glass to her mouth with one hand and wagging her finger at Kim Dokja with her other, as if scolding an ignorant child. Which is rich, coming from her. “Just watch. Besides, it can’t be a big deal. All these people are just acting up ’cause they can say they were drunk as an excuse.”
She downs the shot. Han Sooyoung does not last one second before choking and having a coughing fit.
“I don’t think beautiful genius girl writers would be crying over a single shot, would they?” Kim Dokja mocks, when Han Sooyoung furiously scrubs at her eyes. Even like this, he struggles with sounding taunting rather than endeared. “Give it up, Han Sooyoung. Put the bottle down before you look even more stupid than you do now.”
“Ahh?! So you think I look stupid, huh?!” Han Sooyoung grabs the bottle and refills her glass with unnecessary vehemence. Soju sloshes out and onto the tablecloth. “Listen, I’m thinking of — of writing — a part where Yoo Regressor’s dead wife gets drunk—”
“O-Oh?” Despite himself, Kim Dokja can’t quite keep the interest out of his voice. “Sooyoung-ah, are you drunk already? Normally you never give spoilers, you know?”
Han Sooyoung bares her teeth like a cornered animal. “I want to write it perfectly!”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine without the firsthand experience. Also, do you really think Lee Doctor would act anything like you? Do you think that highly of yourself? Alright, calm down,” Kim Dokja hurriedly adds, when Han Sooyoung grips the soju bottle again, albeit this time by the neck as if ready to start swinging it as a blunt weapon. “You know what? I think we’ve partied long enough. Let’s go get you some air.”
“Partied? You didn’t even — Ugh! Let go of me!”
Of course, Han Sooyoung is not particularly strong. Kim Dokja bodily drags her out of the restaurant after bidding thanks and goodbye to his friend, struggling to deal with his own drunken sister, and into the night. The cold is a refreshing change from the growing warmth in the restaurant, but seconds later they start shivering in their clothes, Han Sooyoung especially, rubbing her bare arms and shoulders.
Lee Hyunsung’s words spring to mind: Offer your jacket if she gets cold. This is probably about as basic as manners get, and Kim Dokja can’t count the number of times they’ve exchanged some clothes like hats and scarves and sweaters, but for some reason his face feels suddenly warm at the thought of lending Han Sooyoung his suit jacket, because what if she takes it as something… well… flirty…? Not that he is, it’s just polite, but at the same time, he can’t deny he wants to see her in his jacket… in any of his clothes, really… and anyway, it’s for her benefit too, she’s going to freeze in such revealing clothing like that, so it’s not like this is all for his gain.
Kim Dokja clears his throat. “Are you cold? Here, ta—”
“Hey, over there!” Han Sooyoung shouts, startling Kim Dokja so bad he very nearly slips into the gutter. She runs ahead further into the entertainment district the restaurant is close to, pointing at what looks like a shoe store. “Let me go buy some shoes! These heels are killing me.”
“…Seriously? Then why did you wear heels at all?”
Han Sooyoung scowls and turns away, crossing her arms. “You think I was gonna ruin my outfit by wearing some kicks? Come on, I’m not that lame.”
After a forlorn look down at his suit jacket, Kim Dokja sighs and follows her into the store.
He had expected Han Sooyoung would just grab the first pair of sneakers she sees and walk out, but to his mild surprise Han Sooyoung examines each one carefully instead, occasionally looking down at herself or in a mirror as if trying to imagine how they’d look on her. “Still worried about ruining your outfit?” Kim Dokja asks, sitting boredly on one of the chairs. “You’re not going to another party after this, are you? What’s the point?”
“Mind your own business!”
“If you’re going to take this long picking out some shoes, it sort of is my business…” Kim Dokja fakes a yawn when Han Sooyoung turns around to glare at him. “If you’re so worried about your image, then just get the ones that match your dress.”
Han Sooyoung frowns. “Like, purple ones?” She drifts over to a pair of white sneakers with purple accents and considers them with more concentration on her face than Kim Dokja’s ever seen on her before. “You think so…?”
The saleslady who had been waiting politely at the side for the past several minutes smiles down at them. “Are you helping your girlfriend pick new shoes? Aren’t you two such a cute couple!” she coos, loud and clear. Han Sooyoung whirls around, face flushed bright red and mouth hanging open. “Miss, if you like, we have a pair of those in your size! Let me just get it in the back…”
Kim Dokja jumps off the chair and strides out. “I’ll just wait outside,” he calls back, barely managing to keep his voice from faltering and not looking back at Han Sooyoung; he’s sure she hardly needs any further reminder of her embarrassment.
There’s even less to do outside as compared to inside the store. Kim Dokja leans on the wall, observing his surroundings. Uriel has taken him shopping for clothes multiple times, sure, but never to a place like this, where the stores at night are as colorful as they are in the daytime. They seem to be in the fashion part of the street, with a dress store on Kim Dokja’s right side and a jewelry shop on the left, and across the street is… a lingerie store.
Kim Dokja makes a token attempt at looking away and fails. This is hardly the first time he’s seen lingerie stores, but he feels embarrassed about looking at it all the same, knowing he’s being as bad as Kim Namwoon right now and this is about the time Lee Jihye would be smacking him upside the head. Still, who can blame Kim Dokja for having… occasional… thoughts! Anyway, it’s not like he’s doing anything wrong just looking at the display! They’re on display for people to look at them, after all, so if anything, he’s doing something right… and…
And there’s a huge, full-body advertisement of a woman wearing underwear. This is nothing new. What is new is the underwear she’s wearing: some sort of… thigh-high socks, connected to the actual underwear with some sort of… belts.
Kim Dokja stares. He can’t help it. Has he ever seen anything like this before? They seem incredibly impractical, since one could just buy tights if they want socks that won’t fall, but… For some reason, the belt… No, or maybe the underwear is… No, the belts themselves are strangely…
“…Hey? Don’t tell me?”
Kim Dokja jolts, every bit of the movement screaming guilty. From behind, clearly having just come out of the store, Han Sooyoung stares at him and then at the advertisement and then back to him, the disbelief in her gaze very quickly shifting into something close to realization.
Fearing for his life, Kim Dokja does what he does best and starts spewing nonsense. “Haha, what, no way, it’s not like that at all, I was just looking around and…” and I think something may have awoken in me… “And, wow, those heels were really important. You instantly became three inches shorter without them again.”
Just like that Han Sooyoung’s expression changes into fury. Kim Dokja almost crumples from sheer relief, and also because Han Sooyoung kicks the insides of his legs. “You asshole! Just because you let me eat free food, you think you can say whatever you want now?! Who the hell needs the extra three inches anyway, you bastard, you…”
But Kim Dokja is once again no longer listening, because something far more distracting than the lingerie model has unfortunately taken hold of his attention. In addition to the sneakers, Han Sooyoung… is wearing tights. Thin black tights that cover her bare legs. Of course, he realizes, it must be because she was feeling cold and decided to grab something while buying shoes. Of course, it must be for a totally innocuous reason like that, and he totally isn’t looking at them and thinking about how she’d look in…
…No, no, he has to stop thinking, right now…!
“I-It’s still early,” Kim Dokja says, expertly disguising the stammer in his voice by rubbing his arms as if cold, though he can’t possibly be further from it right now. What should he say now? You should bring her somewhere else after the party, Lee Jihye’s voice echoes, completely unwelcome, in his head. “Anywhere you want to go before home?”
“Mm…” Han Sooyoung licks her lips. This is enough to send Kim Dokja into palpitations, but thankfully she makes a disgusted face right afterwards. “I can still taste the soju in my mouth… Let’s go get drinks!”
“Again?”
“I meant juice, dumbass. But do you wanna go somewhere else? Like a bar—”
Kim Dokja grabs her shoulders and steers her away from a brightly-lit side of the street. “No. Let’s go get juice.”
There’s a vending machine not too far away; Han Sooyoung leans on the side of it, stretching her legs out and whining about how she’ll never wear heels again, while Kim Dokja stares at the drinks so he doesn’t stare at her tights. “What do you want? I’ll pay,” he says. Ever since the first time he bought them vending machine drinks, he’s insisted on paying every time they hang out and want vending machine drinks. Han Sooyoung once said that was his most misogynistic trait and Kim Dokja had to seriously ask Uriel and Lee Jihye later that day if he was sexist.
“Lemon juice, if they have it.”
“Does it actually taste good? You buy it all the time now.” The drinks clatter down. Kim Dokja plucks them up and hands the can of lemon juice to Han Sooyoung.
Han Sooyoung gives him an odd look. “Wanna try?”
“Hm… No, you can have it. I don’t really like sour things.”
Now she scowls, like he’s committing a crime against her by letting her drink the whole thing, and starts walking faster ahead. “You’re no fun.”
“What…?”
What did he do wrong this time…? Kim Dokja hurries to catch up before Han Sooyoung can get too far. Thankfully, her legs aren’t very long. Han Sooyoung gulps down her juice, probably finishing half of it in one go, and sighs when Kim Dokja falls in step beside her. “I still think we should’ve stayed at that party longer,” she says, though she doesn’t sound like she means it. “I don’t want to go home yet. Maybe we should go get dessert.”
Kim Dokja lifts up the paper bag he’s been carrying around for her this whole time. “The free sweets they gave you aren’t enough for dessert?”
“You know what I mean! And I want ice cream! Or bingsu? What’s good around here?”
“I think I saw an ice cream place on the way here. Wait, seriously? Aren’t you cold?”
They go to the ice cream parlor anyway, because if Kim Dokja’s being honest, he doesn’t want to go home just yet either. He gets vanilla flavor (normal, sane, good) while Han Sooyoung gets some mish-mash of chocolate and strawberry and some secret third flavor, topped with a frightening amount of syrup, sprinkles, and marshmallows. “See, this is how you end a date,” Han Sooyoung says, startling Kim Dokja out of his thoughts on how many calories a single cone of ice cream could possibly contain. “With dessert. No one ever taught you date etiquette, Kim Dokja?”
“Since when was this a date?”
“Since you made it one. Rose bouquet ring any bells?” Han Sooyoung rolls her eyes and bites into her ice cream. Fortunately she is such a messy eater, licking melting trails off the cone and getting sprinkles on her nose, that Kim Dokja is safe from what he’s sure would have been an onslaught of indecent thoughts if he were with literally any other person. “Or did you think that was just, like, normal hanging-out things? It’s not like you’ve never gone on a date before, have you?” Han Sooyoung pauses, frowning. “Have you…?”
Kim Dokja’s not sure he likes where this conversation is going. “It’s getting late,” he says, with zero subtlety whatsoever but too embarrassed to care. “Should we get going? You’re going to get too cold to walk after all that ice cream soon anyway.”
“Oh, fuck off. That was one time!”
He can’t help a smile at the memory anyway, when a few months ago they’d gotten caught in the rain while on the way back from some new department store that had opened up recently. Though they bought a cheap umbrella from a convenience store, Han Sooyoung’s hands were so cold that she couldn’t even hold the umbrella properly, and it kept slipping from her grip, and she’d shouted herself hoarse trying to get Kim Dokja to do anything other than laugh…
It had been a wet, gray, and miserable downpour. Kim Dokja had wanted it to last forever.
Maybe that was how it started, he thinks, watching Han Sooyoung swear like a sailor after dropping their umbrella in a mud puddle for the third time. Or maybe before that, when he invited her over to play video games during summer vacation and one sleepover had turned into days of her sharing his bedroom, Yoo Joonghyuk always cooking a little extra every meal, Lee Hyunsung always remembering to place an extra plate on the dining table. Or maybe before that, before everything, maybe even before they’d first met in that forest behind the temple, dappled sunshine turning the world golden and Han Sooyoung in the center of it all, bathed in that light. Because there had been something before that, Kim Dokja knows, something deeper and older than the both of them remember.
If not for that novel. If not for that love…
“It’s not even that cold tonight,” Han Sooyoung says, drawing Kim Dokja out of his thoughts. “If anything, the weather’s perfect. No rain on the forecast or anything. But it’s getting late…” She pulls her phone out to check the time, frowning slightly. “I need to get home for… something. Ugh, I finished all my homework, but I think I’m forgetting one…”
“Now that you mention it, I have the same feeling,” Kim Dokja muses. The whole drive to Han Sooyoung’s place he’d been worried he forgot something, but he triple-checked everything and came up blank, and eventually he stopped worrying once Han Sooyoung was around to distract him. Now, though, he’s getting the strangest feeling he really has forgotten something in the midst of tonight’s not-date. “Did I leave the light on in my room, or…?”
Then Han Sooyoung gasps, and it hits him. “I gotta post the new chapter tonight!”
“You have to tell me what happens when Kim Reader signs the Outer God Covenant with the Mysterious Mastermind!”
“…I’m not telling you that, dumbass. Read it for yourself. But, man!” Han Sooyoung groans, speed-walking down the street and instantly having to slow down when her ice cream wobbles dangerously on its cone. “We gotta start walking now, if we wanna get back to my place in time! Good thing I bought some real shoes. Wanna race, Kim Dokja?”
“Oh. About that…” Kim Dokja scratches his cheek. “Why don’t we just take the subway?”
He tries to act casual and nonchalant about it, offering a perfectly normal solution to their perfectly normal problem, but Han Sooyoung stumbles on a crack in the pavement anyway before whirling around to gawk at him. “Huh? Why? I thought you didn’t like it there.”
There’s no judgment or pity in her voice, and she makes it sound like she’s simply stating a fact, one neither good nor bad nor stupid nor irrational. And Kim Dokja is grateful for that, but — he looks away, fights the urge to worry on his lower lip before Han Sooyoung can notice. She didn’t even suggest taking the subway on the way to the restaurant; in fact, she had been the one to suggest they walk from her house in the first place, as if the subway had never crossed her mind. As if, despite everything, she would never think of hurting him.
Is he looking too deep into this? Is he placing too much meaning on something that Han Sooyoung may not even care about? Maybe. Probably. But Kim Dokja wants to return the favor, somehow. He doesn’t want to keep being held back, and by extension holding others back, by this childish fear. If Han Sooyoung can walk for half an hour in heels she hates, Kim Dokja can take the subway for her again.
“Well, we’re both in a hurry,” he says, looking somewhere around her cheek when he speaks. He’s not sure he can bear to meet her eyes and see what he finds there. “One subway ride’s a fair trade-off to find out what happens next faster. You really left the last chapter on a real cliffhanger.”
Han Sooyoung gives him a long look. She doesn’t believe his casual act, and Kim Dokja knows it, but to his relief she only says, “Fine. If you say so.”
The nearest station is only a few minutes away. For the next several minutes, Kim Dokja is fine: he follows Han Sooyoung through the crowds of commuters, he buys a ticket, he heads through the gates, he sits down on a bench to wait for their train. And he’s fine. He has to stand up after a minute, pretending to inspect the drinks selection of the nearby vending machine, because sitting there and watching the trains blur one after the other becomes too much, too quickly — but other than that, he’s fine. He came out alive and breathing after the last time he took the subway for Han Sooyoung, and that had been when he was under the impression she had been kidnapped or something; surely he can do this again, with no imminent danger at hand.
Their train arrives. He follows Han Sooyoung inside. It’s almost empty except for them and a handful of other passengers; they take their seats together, side by side.
When the train doors hiss closed, the world wavers, tilts off its axis. Kim Dokja keeps his gaze fixed on the train floor, because if he looks up — or if he looks through the windows — or if he looks at anything other than the cold, unchanging floor, if he does anything other than clench his fists atop his lap and remember how to breathe, if he does anything else —
The train rumbles, moves. The world turns upside-down and suddenly all Dokja can see is the monster standing above him, wings spread, sword raised — but he stays still, so still, because he can’t let Han Sooyoung see —
“Hey, you know how there are a bunch of characters in my novel?”
Her voice strikes through the darkness, sharp as any blade. Dokja blinks, vision clearing for just a moment. “What?”
Han Sooyoung flicks through her phone. “I kind of want to flesh them out more, but there’s just, like, no space for that even after I redid the outline a bunch of times. It’ll just feel shoed-in, you know?” She doesn’t look at him, doesn’t try to pat his shoulder or hold his hand or say things like it’ll be okay, you’re fine, I’m here. She just talks, and talks, and talks. “So I was thinking of doing side-stories after I’m done with the main plot instead. That way everyone can share the spotlight, right? If you like that returnee character so much, I’ll give her a proper backstory or something.”
Dokja can tell she’s talking slower than usual, but even then it’s hard for him to follow — her words drift in and out of hearing, interspersed by the rumble of the train, the screech of the tracks, the clack of the hand rails. So he tries to focus on her face, if nothing else: on the sweep of her lashes, the curve of her cheek, the beauty mark beneath her eye. “Oh, yeah…?” is the best he can manage; he barely even hears his own voice.
“Yeah, I’ll do it. I already got an idea for Yoo Regressor and his dead wife — I mean, well, Lee Doctor’s alive now, but she was definitely dead in the previous rounds. What if I give their child a name? Would that totally tear my fans apart? Do you have any suggestions, or should I go with the most generic baby name ever?”
Despite the ringing in his ears Dokja can’t help the shaky smile that rises to his face, at the absurdity of her words if nothing else. “Yeah, they’d hate you. They’d… They’d say you baited them, or something…”
“Haaah? That’s their own fault for deluding themselves. Yoo Regressor’s had a dead wife since the first 50 chapters, hasn’t he?! I don’t get why you like them so much, but I guess I’ll write more if you really want it. Aren’t I such a kind person? Heh, now this is fanservice. Oh, yeah, I wonder who’d play those two characters in the live-action? Is there an actor who’s the perfect kind of rugged for Yoo Regressor…?”
Slowly the stars in his vision fade from view. Slowly the world rights itself, returns to revolution. Dokja swallows down the tight knot in his throat, and only then does he realize Han Sooyoung’s words are in full focus now, each syllable discernible from the next, her voice the lighthouse leading him to shore. He closes his eyes, breathes in, breathes out — and when he opens them again the train is just a train, and there are no shadows in the corners of his eyes, no monsters lying in wait. His palms are still clammy, and his brow is still damp with sweat, and the train is still running and running and running…
But Han Sooyoung is here, Dokja reminds himself, turning to look at her chatter on beside him. Han Sooyoung is here with him, on the train, the two of them riding to the same destination together, neither one being left behind by the other.
“…Sooyoung.”
“…a deal from the studio, they have no idea they’re talking to a high-schooler… Uh, yeah?” She looks at him, going quiet for the first time since the train started moving. “What is it?”
If not for that novel… If not for that love… Would I have still met you like this?
Kim Dokja smiles. “You think they’d let you cast yourself for Han Writer?”
Despite how slowly they walk, the station is only five minutes away from Han Sooyoung’s place, but Han Sooyoung peppers those five minutes with conversation all the same, teasing future plot points in her novel before musing on possible ideas once she finishes writing her current one. They can hardly delay any further when they finally get to her front door, though, and Han Sooyoung’s words finally taper off into torturously awkward silence.
“So, uh,” she says, at the same time Kim Dokja says, “Uh, so…”
Kim Dokja can practically see the cringe on her face. “Um,” he says, before she can interrupt, curse him out, run into her house, or all three, “bye now?”
“Oh, yeah, goodnight…”
If this were a date, Kim Dokja thinks, this is around the time he’d kiss her. Thankfully, this isn’t a date, so there’s no reason to do that… is what he thinks until Han Sooyoung opens her door, and it swings open to reveal the bouquet of roses, lovingly placed in the leftover soda can, sitting atop a nearby table.
Kim Dokja resists the urge to bury his face in his hands. Why, why, why had he let Uriel talk him into bringing her flowers?
It takes him a second to realize that, while Han Sooyoung has opened the door, she hasn’t gone in yet; she just stands by the doorway, staring down at him standing on the step. Like this they’re almost the same height again, back before Kim Dokja shot a good five inches up and they were both still the shortest among their friends. Inside Han Sooyoung’s house, the automatic lighting switches on, bathing her in warm golden light — and like this Kim Dokja can almost pretend they’re back in that forest, when they hadn’t yet known each other’s names but somehow knew this wasn’t the first time they had met.
But for all that cosmic fate, it does nothing to help now as another long, horrible second passes and all they do is stand there, silent and unmoving and unbearably awkward. Kim Dokja dearly wishes he could pace the garden path three times again.
Finally he decides that, when in doubt, it never fails to ask: What would Yoo Joonghyuk do? And Yoo Joonghyuk had told him exactly what to do just a few hours ago. Kim Dokja tries to very subtly take a deep breath, arranging the words in his head as fast as he can while inhaling: Can I… No, may I k-ki… No, can I please kiss… Exhale… He’s running out of time… Han Sooyoung, can I please kiss yo—
But his thoughts are abruptly cut off when something crashes against him.
Kim Dokja lets out a startled yelp, one that quickly turns into a startled shout when he stumbles back, trips on the steps, and feels time slow down as he topples backwards. Han Sooyoung’s eyes snap open, and in her defense she makes a valiant attempt at catching him, but when her hand snags on his jacket, she just loses her balance right along with him. Then time speeds up again, and Kim Dokja’s skull hits the garden path.
For the longest few seconds of Kim Dokja’s life, all they do is lie there, Han Sooyoung atop him looking dazed and Kim Dokja vacantly wondering if he’s gotten a concussion. Shit, he realizes, how will I explain the grass stains on the clothes? Am I going to have to use the washing machine in the dead of night myself?
And above all that: Did she just kiss me?
“Did you just kiss me?” he asks, at length.
Han Sooyoung looks almost too embarrassed to talk. She just stares stupidly down at Kim Dokja, entire face bright pink, hands on either side of his head, one of her knees digging painfully into his stomach. Seeing as he cannot possibly endure this torture any longer, Kim Dokja adds, “So do you plan on getting off of me and posting that chapter anytime soon?”
Han Sooyoung screams, jumps off of him, runs into her house, and slams the door.
Kim Dokja lies on the grass for another several seconds, trying to assess where on Earth he went wrong. When finally he can practically feel the grass stains seeping into his suit jacket, he pushes himself up with tremendous effort and approaches the door. It automatically locks, so he reaches up and rings the doorbell.
“G… Go away.” Han Sooyoung’s voice is muffled but audible through the door. She also sounds humiliated beyond belief. “I’m… busy… editing the chapter.”
“Are you sure about that? Editing the chapter right by the front door?”
A pause, and then the door cracks open an inch. Han Sooyoung glares up at him, her face so red it’s visible even only through the sliver between door and frame — but Kim Dokja can’t even make fun of her for that, because he can feel the heat in his own face, too, all the way up to his ears. “Well,” he says, “that was horrible.”
“Shut up.”
“Why’d you close your eyes? Were you that confident in your aim? You missed, by the way.” He points at his philtrum, the space between his nose and his upper lip, the spot Han Sooyoung had kissed — or tried to kiss, anyway, since Kim Dokja is fairly certain most kisses don’t end the way theirs just did. “Unless you were aiming here all along. For some reason.”
“Shut. Uuup,” Han Sooyoung groans, disappearing briefly from sight. Kim Dokja hears a rhythmic thump, thump, thump coming from inside, which he decides to take as her banging her head against the wall. “And anyway, who cares?! I didn’t miss! I was aiming for you in general, and I sure as hell got you, so there! At least I actually did it too and didn’t chicken out!”
Kim Dokja’s mouth falls open. “Are you saying I was chickening out?”
“You were definitely about to just say goodnight and leave right then! Huh? Weren’t you?” Han Sooyoung accuses, returning to view just to resume glaring up at him, like she’s the one who fell skull-first onto the grass. “Ugh! All night I’ve been waiting for you to do something, but you wouldn’t even let me drink!”
“What does soju have to do with this?”
“Obviously I could do a lot of things and blame it on the alcohol! Do you only ever read shitty power fantasies? Haven’t you ever looked at any of the trending lists in romance?!”
Why is Kim Dokja hearing the sort of nonsense he’d usually expect from Uriel? “I think you read too much romance. Please don’t rely on soju to get a boyfriend.”
“Fuck you. That was just one method in my… my arsenal.” Han Sooyoung briefly closes her eyes as if too embarrassed by her own self to even look at Kim Dokja. Then, before he can point out how she shouldn’t say things she knows she’ll be embarrassed by, she blurts out, “I — I was serious, you know!”
Kim Dokja blinks. “About?”
“About… About you sleeping over tonight. If you want.” She swallows, the minute movement of her throat suddenly the most interesting thing in the world to Kim Dokja, before it’s cut off by the edge of the door. “And, uh, if… if your parents will allow it.”
Parents…? Right, he never did clear up what Yoo Joonghyuk and Uriel are. “I… Well…”
Now it’s his turn to feel too embarrassed to talk. After everything else that happened tonight, he’d pretty much forgotten about the offhanded offer Han Sooyoung had made earlier in the evening, but to be reminded of it now… right after their sort-of-kiss, with just an unlocked, open door between them, with such painfully clear consent that it would be a crime to say no to this…
Kim Dokja wrings his hands. Of course he wants to stay the night. Of course Yoo Joonghyuk and the rest would be — no, are already fine with it. Of course he wants to see Han Sooyoung in a different light, in that dress and in those tights, and of course he wants to see if any of his stupid little fantasies are at all feasible… Of course…
…Of course, there are other things to consider.
“Much as I’d like that,” Kim Dokja says, slowly, “maybe next time.”
“Oh,” Han Sooyoung says.
“After all, you have to focus on editing right now. What will your fans think if they spot a typo on a chapter you already posted late?”
“…Kim Dokja.” Now Han Sooyoung truly looks like she is about to strangle him. “Hey. You wanna die?”
“Okay, okay. Calm down. Don’t kill me just yet, I’ve still got something to say,” he babbles, taking a step back and lifting his hands in the air in mock surrender. Han Sooyoung’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Could you come out for a bit? It’s hard to talk to you when I can barely see you.”
“What’re you up to…” But she’s annoyed enough to open the door wider without waiting for explanation, which is what Kim Dokja had been banking on. “Fine, but you better—”
Inhale, exhale. Kim Dokja leans in and kisses her.
It lasts one, two seconds, and then he pulls away before he can implode or spontaneously combust or melt into a puddle of goo on the door steps. He had expected Han Sooyoung to be flustered, because he certainly is, but she only looks stunned for a moment before reaching up to touch her mouth…
Or rather, the corner of her mouth. “What was that, not even a proper kiss?” she asks. “You kept your eyes open ’til the last second only to miss too? Say, you’re actually worse at this than I am, aren’t you?!”
Kim Dokja turns on his heel and starts walking away.
“Hey, coward!” She’s laughing now, loud and far from graceful. Kim Dokja had once compared her to a cackling witch riding on her broomstick through the night, which is how he knows he’s down bad if that makes him smile something besotted. “Running away, are you? Fine! You gotta be way better next time, or else we’re gonna have to call this whole thing off!”
“Shut up!” he shouts back, trying and failing to keep his own laugh out of his voice. “As if anyone else would still want to kiss you after you tackled them to the ground!”
He gets the door slamming shut as a response, and Kim Dokja’s almost glad, because if he had been close enough to the front door for Han Sooyoung to see his smile, he’d never hear the end of it.
The security guard says nothing but a polite goodnight when Kim Dokja steps past the gates, to his relief, because now he can’t help but wonder if he could have done anything better just then. Aside from the kiss, anyway, which he can’t even bring himself to think about lest he pass out from sheer humiliation. First and foremost… could he have — no, should he have said yes to staying the night at Han Sooyoung’s place? Just the thought is enough to have his face going warm again, and he can’t help but think of how Han Sooyoung had bought those tights at the store, like she’d been hoping for something like this…
But… when in doubt: What would Yoo Joonghyuk do? Well, he said it himself… nothing before 20 years of age. It’s better this way, Kim Dokja decides, lightly smacking his burning cheeks. Granted, they probably won’t be waiting that long before… before… making a decision… but either way, right now is too fast! They haven’t even properly kissed yet! For all the romance webnovels Han Sooyoung claims to read, she sure doesn’t seem to realize there’s an order to these things. Staying the night after the first date? Kim Dokja has some self-control, here!
…Still. For days — no, weeks — okay, months — he’d been worried about so many concerns. What if Han Sooyoung doesn’t like him back, what if he can’t be someone good for her, what if this changes their entire relationship for the worse — they all fall away now, replaced with the simple, solid fact that nothing has changed, really. Because in an an hour or two, Han Sooyoung will post a new chapter, and in an hour or two, Kim Dokja will leave a comment. Back and forth, again and again, over and over…
Perhaps it’s no mystery as to why they’d fallen into place, so soon after their first meeting. Maybe they’ve had so many first meetings by now that the start is indistinguishable from the end, that they’ll always find their way back to each other.
Kim Dokja leans against the stone wall, staring up at the night sky, clear and free of cloud cover. The weather really is nice tonight. There really are better things in life.
He pulls out his phone, taps on a contact. Yoo Joonghyuk answers at the first ring. “Yes?”
“Hi. Sorry it’s so late, but can you come pick me up now? I’m at Han Sooyoung’s front gate.”
Silence. Then whispers, the words indistinct but the voices definitely audible. Finally Yoo Joonghyuk asks, “Why?”
“…Huh? Why? Uh, because the party’s over…?”
“No. Why must I go there. Are you not sleeping over?”
Kim Dokja had not been expecting this. “What? No I’m not, I didn’t even say—”
“Are you sure?” someone else suddenly cries, startling Kim Dokja into nearly dropping his phone. Static on the other end, before Uriel exclaims, “No way! She didn’t invite you in for the night?! Dokja-ya, ask again!”
“A-Ahjussi, noona, it’s fine. I just want to go home.” After all, now that the initial excitement has faded, Kim Dokja can’t wait to read the new chapter. Just what would happen to the protagonist now? On the way here Han Sooyoung kept teasing about a new-but-not-new character showing up, which Kim Dokja had puzzled over for the better part of those five minutes.
Silence again. Then presumably the phone changes hands once more, because Lee Jihye’s voice comes through loud and clear. “Don’t worry, kid,” she grunts. “You can cry all night. We won’t hear a thing.”
“…No, wait. I didn’t get rejected! It’s not like that! Hello? Anyone?” he cries into a phone suddenly no one is paying attention to. In the background he can hear someone who sounds distinctly like Lee Hyunsung sniffling wetly. “Please just come pick me up already…!”