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Sitting on the sidewalk, under the hot orange streetlight, moths and bugs buzzing above his head and the dark expanse of the inky black sky stretching endlessly above him. Bile in the back of his throat and a warmth radiating through him, thrumming pleasantly despite the nausea, and the sound of distant traffic. He could walk to the nearby subway station, but his scuffed up hands and the bruises forming on his knees told him that he better not, that he'd just eat shit on the cold concrete again. He'd rather not be at the subway either, to be honest. Not his favorite place in the world. This sidewalk, though? It was comfortable, and warm, and felt safe, and no one was gonna care if he threw up on the street. On the other hand, no one would be happy if he threw up on the subway car. Anyways, that bastard was already on his way over here now, so trying to get to the subway would only really piss him off further.
Dokja groaned lowly, tensing as another wave of nausea gripped him. He laid his forehead on his knees and wrapped his arms around his legs like a petulant child. How late was it? How drunk was he? Drunk enough that he couldnt walk (he tried very hard to walk, but his legs weren't listening to him), and drunk enough that he forgot he could check the time on his phone. The street light hummed above his head. Was it always that loud? It seemed to be getting louder. He felt dreamy, giddy and drunk, or maybe he just felt faded, he couldn't tell. "Yu Jonghyuk, you bastard." he cursed to himself, glaring at the concrete sidewalk beneath him. Sweat dripped from his forehead despite the chill in the air, but he didnt feel hot.
He wasnt sure how long he sat there, on that lonely sidewalk under the street light, knees to his head and eyes plastered on the rough black concrete between his feet. It felt like a long time, and he thought the hum of the light and the moths sounded like a song. He closed his eyes.
After an indistinguishable amount of time (it felt like hours, but he thought that maybe it was only a few minutes), footsteps pattered towards him, but he didn't bother to look up, frowning sourly.
"Get up." Yu Jonghyuk, the aforementioned bastard, grumbled, tapping the side of Dokjas shoe with his own pair of heavy combat boots.
"Ah, the sunfish himself has arrived!"
Jonghyuk glared down at him, clearly unhappy about something, whether it be the nickname or Dokjas current state.
"Can you even walk?"
"Can you even walk?" He mocked in a high pitched voice, lifting his head drowsily to smirk at the other man.
"If youre sober enough to mock me, youre sober enough to walk home alone. Im not your babysitter." Jonghyuk scolded, but there was no genuine bite behind his words.
Dokja sighed drearily in response, dropping his head back down on his knees, too tired to respond.
A few seconds of shuffling later, and Dokja felt a heavy hand rest on the top of his head. "Hmm?" He inquired, lifting his head once again and finding that he was now at eye level with Jonghyuk, who was crouched in front of him. Dokja stared at the him, while he scrutinized Dokjas sweaty, disheveled appearance. The scarred hand moved abruptly to his forehead, making Dokja squeak at the unexpected touch.
"Youre very warm."
"Are you calling me hot, Yu Jonghyuk? You know, its not right to flirt with a drunk person."
"No, its not flirting. You are not hot." He paused when Dokja stuck his tongue out showing his disapproval of the comment.
"You feel like you have a fever, idiot. Youre burning up"
"Oh? I dont know, i think im just drunk. Or, i mean, buzzed?" He shrugged, "Just a little, though, im not a lightweight" he flashed his signature unlucky smile, which just made Jonghyuk frown.
At the continued staring, he began feeling anxious at Jonghyuks intense scrutiny. Dokja felt his stomach churn with a stab of anxiety. This was out of character for him, leaving without telling anyone (the company was gonna kill him) just to get drunk enough that he cant walk, only to text Jonghyuk to come get him. Truthfully, hes lucky that the entire company didnt come to get him—and, possibly murder him, too, for scaring them so badly.
Dokjas expression softened. Thats why he asked Jonghyuk to come, he understood. He wouldn't rat on Dokja until the next morning, probably, when he was feeling better and could hold his own against everyone else.
Dokja shut his eyes. The warmth and weight of Jonghyuks hand pressed firmly to his forehead was calming. He heard the low rumble of the other mans voice, and knew he must be saying something to him, but he couldnt be bothered to zone in enough to understand. His ears were ringing, when did that start? He could feel the scars on Jonghyuks hand, pressed against his head. These were hands that took hundreds—hell, thousands—of lives, but still. Here they were, being used so gently, to care for the devil of all people. He could still hear the steady hum of the street lights, the distant traffic, someone playing music somewhere close. He could die here, in this moment, and he'd be happy.
Jonghyuk abruptly took his hand away from Dokjas head, instead placing a hand on each of his shoulders.
"What was that for?" Dokja grumbled, cracking open one eye. He was immediately greeted with Jonghyuks (extremely handsome, if he might add.) face, just a few inches away from his own. He felt Jonghyuks forehead press against his, and he let out a shocked noise that was somewhere between a 'hey!' and a squeal, and pulled away.
"Jonghyuk! What was that for!" He barked out, placing a hand on Jonghyuks chest and pushing him back.
Jonghyuk glared at him.
"The forehead-to-forehead method is the most accurate method if you dont have a thermometer. And, you have a fever."
"Th-that doesnt give you the right to just—to just, to get in my face like that, you asshole" He could feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment, and he used his free hand to cover the lower half of his face, but kept the other on Jonghyuks chest. To keep him away, obviously. Of course.
Jonghyuk gave Dokjas shoulder a gentle squeeze, his glare turning into a more serious look of concern.
"Lets go home, Kim Dokja. You need to rest."
Dokja sighed heavily, a dull ache permeating his limbs. He dropped his head back down on his knees, curling his arms around himself once again. Jonghyuks hands still held his shoulders firmly, providing him an anchor to the real world.
"Yeah, i guess youre right" Dokja admitted quietly, but he didnt move to get up.
"Can you stand?"
"Yeah, of course i can," he lied, sighing again as Jonghyuks hands left his shoulders. He already missed the steadying hands, always there to catch him—they felt like his tether to this world, both right now, and so many times before. Jonghyuk was always there to catch him, from middle school and on. Always his tether. It meant more than Dokja could put into words. There was a quiet shuffling for a moment, and when Dokja looked up again, Jonghyuk was standing infront of him with his hand out.
"Thanks." Dokja hummed quietly, biting back the annoying comment he almost made—Jonghyuk came all the way out here for him, maybe it was better to hold his tongue just this once.
With Jonghyuks help, Dokja managed to stand on unsteady legs, wobbling uneasily while gripping Jonghyuks hands as if they were a lifeline.
"Ugh. I dont feel good." Dokja complained, and he was quietly more grateful for Jonghyuk that he thinks he's ever been, a deep sense of longing squeezing at his heart.
"Thats obvious. Youre drunk, and sick. If you felt fine, there would be a problem."
"No, like, i really dont feel good. I dont think i can walk all the way home" he shuffled slightly closer to Jonghyuk. His ears were ringing again, and he felt like he was losing touch with reality.
I need your hands, i need you here for me, i need a tether. Please.
Jonghyuk stared at his pale face for a few moments, before huffing loudly. He let go of Dokjas hands, leaving him unsteady, before turning his back towards him. Dokja, whos vision had started to black out around the edges, stood ridgid at the sudden lack of support.
"Come on, then. I'll carry you." Jonghyuk asserted, crouching down slightly to let Dokja get on his back.
Instead of a real response, Dokja snorted, relief flooding over his anxiety. He didn't let the opportunity slip by—leaning forward in an unsteady fashion, and wrapping his arms around Jonghyuk.
Jonghyuk, the blessing he is, did the rest.
He curled his arms around Dokjas legs, pulling the reader up and fully onto his back, shuffling him around a bit to make the awkward position somewhat more comfortable for the two of them.
Dokja breathed in deeply, the ringing in his ears subsiding. He loosened his grip, now resting his head comfortably on Jonghyuks shoulder. He felt fuzzy, and like there was something fluttering in his stomach.
"Dont you dare puke on me. I'll drop you and leave you in the street if you do, i promise."
"Youre bluffing and you-you know it, the company would kill you." Dokja chuckled, closing his eyes. He felt Jonghyuk tilting his head, leaning it to rest against the side of Dokjas.
"..I'll let you think im bluffing all you want." Jonghyuk said quietly, softly.