Work Text:
“This is pretty sad.”
Kim Dokja tilted his head back to throw Han Sooyoung an exasperated look. She was currently standing in the middle of the living room, looking around at the shabby furniture in distaste.
“I was a contract worker making poverty wages, remember?” he shot back.
“That still wouldn’t explain your taste,” she poked the couch cushions, sending a small plume of dust into the air. “Why are these plaid ?”
“I don’t know, they were probably on sale!”
“And you couldn’t find anything other than this horrendous orange and green pattern?”
“Is this really–”
“Both of you shut up and hurry up,” a new voice entered the apartment’s threshold. The heavy steps of thick-soled boots followed, and the bickering pair turned to see Yoo Joonghyuk scowling at them with his arms crossed.
“Yeah, hurry up and go find those books the kids wanted,” Sooyoung twisted back to Dokja, flashing a saccharine smile. “We still have prep to do for the next scenario.”
“Then keep your personal insults about my taste in interior design to yourself,” he huffed, turning away.
Nevertheless, he did as they told and moved deeper into what had been his home, once upon a time. Treading through the darkened hallway, it felt strange being back here. It had only been a few years technically, but it felt like a lifetime ago. In many ways, it had been.
Dokja faintly heard Sooyoung from behind make some sort of exclamation about a computer, but he ignored it and continued toward where his bedroom was. Unfortunately, she wasn’t wrong – they still had much to do before the next scenario began and didn’t have time to waste. They were only here for one reason, and it was to retrieve the old encyclopedia books he remembered having on his bedroom shelves. Dokja was slightly regretting telling Yoosung and Gilyoung about them now, they had started pestering him about them everyday until he finally relented and decided to get the volumes so that they could have the books for themselves.
Still, it would be worth it to see their expressions Dokja thought, with the corners of his lips tugging up. Finally the kids would have some entertainment on their off time. It didn’t hurt that the books would be educational too, seeing as school basically no longer existed.
Dokja stepped into his room, eyes sweeping the small, cramped space. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to feel – perhaps nostalgia, or even sadness. But looking now at the twin size bed with threadbare sheets, the half-open closet with wrinkled dress shirts tumbling out, he felt as if he were looking at a stranger’s room. Perhaps it had simply been too long. Or perhaps he’d spent so long trying to distance himself from the small, sad life he’d previously led, he no longer even recognized it.
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he approached the book shelf that took up half of the back wall of the room. At this sight, his previously unaffected heart jumped slightly. A wisp of warmth snaked through him and he couldn’t help but smile a little seeing what had been once his most prized possessions, his lifeline.
He traced his fingers across the spines, and wondered for an absurd, fleeting moment about bringing all of them back to the Industrial Complex. But that would be a time-consuming and pointless task, a total waste when there were a million other more pressing, even life-threatening, things to think about.
So Dokja made a quick search, locating the three encyclopedia volumes the kids had been babbling about while starry-eyed at the thought of all the animal and insect information contained between the covers. He put them away carefully into his coat, and made his way out of the bedroom, only sparing one last glance at his shelves.
As he approached the living room again, he heard drifts of conversion between Han Sooyoung and Yoo Joonghyuk.
“Reader… does that mean?” came the protagonist’s low voice, tone equal parts his usual impatience mixed with bewilderment.
Sooyoung apparently found his question amusing, because her sharp barking laughter immediately bounced the walls of the tiny apartment.
“Two… relationship,” came her answer a moment later. At this point, Dokja was almost back in the room.
“What kind of relationship?” Joonghyuk’s tone had turned strange, angry almost, but also something else that Dokja couldn’t discern. What in the world were those two talking about?
“Romantic, obviously,” her response dripped with mirth and mocking. At this, Yoo Joonghyuk seemed to fall silent.
Finally, Kim Dokja stepped into their view. “What the hell are you guys–”
He cut himself off. The two were sitting on the couch, bent over an open laptop. A laptop that he was intimately familiar with – a black, nondescript thing that whirred and sputtered noisily each time he used to turn it on because it was countless years old and the hardware had been on its last breath. When Sooyoung had made that comment earlier about checking it out, he’d barely acknowledged it because there had been no doubt in his mind that the piece of crap had died a quiet death after being abandoned for so long. But clearly, the damned machine had somehow clung onto life as his two, very nosy companions were currently peering at the screen with an intense scrutiny they usually reserved for the most challenging monster battles.
Their expressions however, could not be more in contrast. Han Sooyoung looked as if she was about to burst from glee, a shit-eating grin splitting her face in half. Yoo Joonghyuk’s brows were furrowed deeply, which wasn’t unfamiliar of itself, but instead of his usual menacing glower, he instead looked confused and somewhat dazed.
Dokja’s stomach dropped as the earlier snippets of conversation now registered. No… no way.
“You…” he started, but couldn’t bring himself to finish his own sentence.
They finally noticed his presence and looked up. If it was possible, Sooyoung’s grin grew even wider.
“Oh, I am never going to let you live this down,” she cackled with malice, turning the laptop around to show what they’d been staring at.
It was exactly what he thought it was. It was exactly his worst nightmare.
He lunged for it, but Sooyoung grabbed the laptop back with lightning fast reflexes. She clutched it to her chest.
“No fucking way you’re getting this back. I’ve only made it through a page of this first fic and there’s four more in the folder!” she crowed.
“Han Sooyoung, give that to me,” he leapt over the table, making to tackle her. She rolled out of the way just in time, scrambling towards the door.
“You’ll have to pry this out of my cold dead hands,” she taunted. “Oh, I can’t wait to show this to Sangah.”
“Don’t you dare,” Dokja gritted, chasing after her. He didn’t care if he looked hysterical, this was truly his most mortifying horror come to life.
Sooyoung ran out the door and slammed it behind her. He reached for the knob to pull it open, but it seemed she was pulling from the other side, thwarting him. Damn the writer and her completely disproportionate physical strength to size ratio.
“Why don’t you spend some time in there with your precious protagonist?” she called from the other side, clearly having way too much fun with this. “It seems you have a lot you want to say… or do.”
“Han Sooyoung!” he shouted, banging a fist against the wood. While she was strong, with his enhanced abilities he would have no problem knocking down this door. And he was about to do just that.
But a hand pressed down on his shoulder and stopped him.
“Kim Dokja.”
Dokja froze. His fist still held up in midair.
“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk repeated from behind him. Dokja could feel his presence, could feel the pressure on his shoulder, but he would rather die than turn around.
Sensing his hesitation, Yoo Joonghyuk grabbed ahold of his other shoulder as well and physically forced him to turn his body to face him. Dokja mutely slackened to let it happen, realizing that it was too late to avoid the consequences. Yoo Joonghyuk had seen it all. This confrontation was inevitable – he would just have to swallow his pride and dignity and face it head on.
He looked up to meet Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes, steeling his expression.
“What is the meaning of this?” the taller man demanded, frowning.
“They’re–” Dokja coughed. “They’re just some fan stories I wrote when I was younger. Please just disregard them, it was very long ago.”
“Fan stories?”
“Well, you already know I was a… devoted reader of the Ways of Survival.” he averted his eyes. This was truly about to go down in history as one of the top three most embarrassing moments of Kim Dokja’s life.
“Han Sooyoung said that they were–” Yoo Joonghyuk paused. “Shipping fanfiction.”
He was really going to throttle her the next time he saw her. Well, he had hoped to do it before she could distribute his deepest shames for everyone in their group to see, but he had a sinking feeling that with his momentary distraction, she was already halfway back to the Complex.
“Y-yes,” he managed out. “But like I said, I wrote these a long time ago, you really don’t have to pay them any mind. Sooyoung is just making it a big deal because she’s Sooyoung.”
Yoo Joonghyuk narrowed his eyes. “The stories were about me… and the reader,” he continued, rudely ignoring Dokja’s previous statement.
Truly, he would rather be back in the pits of Tartarus, or literally anywhere else, than here. Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t going to let him get away with a single shred of dignity, was he? The bastard.
“Yes,” Dokja could only reply, sullen.
“But you were the only reader.” Yoo Joonghyuk’s tone was odd, but Dokja didn’t think about that. Instead, he focused on the flare of anger that suddenly rose in his chest. He ripped himself out of Yoo Joonghyuk’s hold and stepped to the side.
“Are you and Han Sooyoung quite done teasing me?” he demanded hotly. “Yes, I was a sad, pathetic person who was obsessed with an unreasonably long web novel and on occasion, wrote fanfiction about y– the character in it.”
Dokja turned away, humiliated but also upset. Perhaps more than he needed to be even, and he wasn’t sure why.
“And do you still see me that way?” Yoo Joonghyuk questioned bluntly.
Dokja whirled around, red flooding his face. “Wh-what?! What do you– no, well–” he spluttered, nonsensical and unsure of what he was trying to say, completely caught off guard by the direct inquiry.
“Do you still see me as a character in that novel?” Yoo Joonghyuk interrupted his stammering, silencing him.
Oh.
Dokja breathed in internal relief while simultaneously guilt clenched around his stomach. Of course, that was what Yoo Joonghyuk was asking. It wasn’t about Dokja’s stupid little fantasies, but rather his personhood. Even though the two of them had mostly ironed out that conflict they had, of course Yoo Joonghyuk wouldn’t enjoy this reminder of the fact that he’d just been a character in a novel for Dokja’s entertainment.
“Yes and no.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s frown deepened. “Elaborate.”
Kim Dokja turned around to sit back down on the couch. Sooyoung was already long gone, there was no point in going after her now.
“You’re still the obstinate and homicidal bastard I grew up reading,” he chuckled to himself, and could see the other man still where he was standing. “The man who taught me how to keep fighting, how to persevere, how to… survive.”
“I know that doesn’t mean much in comparison to the 1863 lifetimes of pain, hardship, and loss you had to endure – but you made it so that it was okay for me to keep living. Because if Yoo Joonghyuk could keep going despite everything, then surely I could too.”
Dokja gripped one of the ugly (okay, yes he could admit it was ugly) plaid cushions to his chest, as if to try and protect himself from his own honesty. Embarrassment at his own pathetic admissions was coursing through him, but if it could reassure Yoo Joonghyuk then it would be worth it. He couldn’t have his co-leader go missing at such a critical point again.
“And no?”
“Hm?” Dokja looked up to see a tight expression on Yoo Joonghyuk’s face.
“You said yes and no to if you still see me as just a character from the novel.”
“Oh,” Dokja’s lips turned up into a cheerful smile. “Well, I think I was a bit arrogant in the beginning to think that I knew everything about you just because I’d read about you all my life. Turns out you’re somehow even more stubborn than I thought.”
His companion made an angry noise, the kind that usually preceded violence, so Dokja quickly barrelled on.
“But you’re also kind and loyal and strong in ways I didn’t know about before,” Dokja looked down at his hands. “I knew you cared a lot about the people around you but… it’s different seeing it up close. Sometimes I wonder if I actually understood you at all, or if I only read what I wanted to see.”
Silence fell in the room. The afternoon sun was now directly streaming in through the singular window of the apartment, lighting up the dust motes in the air.
“Which do you prefer?” Yoo Joonghyuk broke the quiet, his footsteps heavy as he approached where Dokja sat.
“What do you mean?” Dokja tilted his head up to give a questioning look. The other’s face was neutral now, unreadable.
“The Yoo Joonghyuk of the book or the Yoo Joonghyuk standing here.”
Dokja’s mouth dropped in bewilderment. What sort of nonsense was this sunfish spouting now, referring to himself in third person?
“You’re the same person?!”
“Which one do you prefer?” he stubbornly repeated.
“That makes no sense!”
Yoo Joonghyuk leaned down to brace his hands against the back of the couch, caging Dokja in with his arms on either side. His face was suddenly very close, close enough for Dokja to count his individual lashes.
“Those fan stories you wrote about me from the book… would you write them about the me you know now?” The protagonist asked this extremely baffling question with a prescribed tone, as if he were asking about their strategy for clearing the next scenario.
Dokja gave a nervous, puzzled laugh. “I don’t think you fully understand what fanfiction is, you don’t exactly write it about people you know personally.”
“Then imagine you don’t know me personally.”
“That still wouldn’t–” Dokja dragged a hand down his face. This was growing more incomprehensible by the second.
He took a deep breath. “I prefer you, okay? The one I know now.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s jaw twitched, ever so slightly. “Really?”
“Yes,” Dokja threw his hands up in annoyance, not understanding what it was this bastard was trying to get after. “I mean, I like every version of you, every regression, but obviously reading about you can be no comparison to knowing the flesh and blood you.”
Yoo Joonghyuk's eyes widened, not dramatically, but enough for Dokja to suddenly clam up and realize what it was he just said.
“I–” he bit his lip and wished not for the first time, and probably not for the last, that the earth would simply swallow him whole. Hell, if the dokkaebis came down and announced the beginning of the new scenario right this second, he would even rejoice.
“I didn’t mean it that way, so please don’t misunderstand,” his eyes darted around for an escape. He was trapped between the other man’s arms right now but if he just ducked–
“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice came, low and rich. When had his face come so close? He could practically feel the warm breaths of his name on his cheek.
“If I kiss you right now, will you run away?”
“What?” Dokja squeaked out, his eyes returning to meet unfathomably dark ones, inscrutable and definitely way closer than they had been just a moment ago.
“You heard me.”
“Why would you–”
It seemed Yoo Joonghyuk had run out of patience to wait for his answer, as his next words were stolen from him by a pair of soft lips against his own. It was a gentle, chaste press and was gone in an instant. Yoo Joonghyuk pulled back once more to study his face.
Dokja wasn’t sure what he looked like at that moment but he imagined it to be akin to a gaping fish that had been pulled out of the water, flopping uselessly on the shore. His face felt as if it had been set aflame, his blush no doubt spreading to even his neck.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes traced his expression and seemed to see something that satisfied him. He leaned in once more, this time with more ferocity, hands coming to cup his cheek and slide into his hair. Dokja gasped at the touch, and his partner took this opportunity to deepen the kiss.
Despite himself, Dokja let out an embarrassing sound, and he could feel Yoo Joonghyuk’s infuriating smirk against his mouth.
Dokja didn’t know how long they stayed locked like that. His entire body was short-circuiting, not a single coherent thought passing through his brain. When the two finally pulled away from each other, he was gasping for air, his lips swollen and tingly from the abuse.
Yoo Joonghyuk on the other hand looked perfectly unfazed, his hair only slightly more tousled than usual which Dokja recognized as his own doing.
“How did that compare to your fanfiction?” the man raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.
Dokja stiffened, the air catching in his chest painfully. In an instant, it felt as if ice had been poured into his veins.
He stood up abruptly, so sudden it even caught Yoo Joonghyuk off guard.
“I didn’t take you to be the type to play with others’ feelings,” he bit out coldly.
Dokja twisted away and hurriedly paced toward the door. He hadn’t gone even three steps before his wrist was being pulled back. He stumbled, and was caught by firm hands.
Those hands then wrapped around him in an embrace, pulling him into a warm chest. He could feel the strength of it against him, and how it rumbled as Yoo Joonghyuk pressed his mouth against his ear to whisper:
“I like you too.”
The heat of his breath tickled Dokja’s ear, sending goosebumps up his spine. His mind swirled, disoriented, and Yoo Joonghyuk was not making it any easier for him to think.
“Wha–?” he managed out, staring at the hollow of Yoo Joonghyuk’s neck. Then he mumbled out the first thing that came to his mind.
“What about Lee Seolhwa?”
The arms around him tightened. “I like you.”
Dokja felt lips begin to kiss down his nape, feather soft. He shivered and couldn’t help but press himself closer to the warmth of Yoo Joonghyuk’s body.
“Tha– that doesn't make sense,” he voiced, embarrassingly breathy.
Teeth lightly pressed down on the bend of his shoulder and neck. “Kim Dokja, you fool.”
The pressure of the bite chased out any last remaining rational thought from his mind. He pushed forward and fell to his own desires, tentatively pressing his lips into the strong, tantalizing lines of Yoo Joonghyuk’s throat before him. At Dokja’s surprising initiative, Yoo Joonghyuk feverishly captured his mouth again and the two found themselves falling back into the couch.
The sunlight was turning into a dusky, fiery orange by the time Dokja managed to speak again.
“We should be getting back soon, the others will get worried,” he murmured from where his head was resting on Yoo Joonghyuk’s shoulder.
The other’s hands didn’t slow from where they were drawing lazy circles into his waist.
“Not yet, I want to go to your bedroom.”
Dokja shot up at the words, scandalized. “You– what– I’m not ready for that yet!” he yelped out.
Yoo Joonghyuk slowly sat up as well, raising his eyebrows. “What in the world are you thinking? I only meant I wanted to retrieve your books.”
Mortification flooded Dokja’s cheeks for the nth time that day. “O-oh.”
Then a beat later, Yoo Joonghyuk’s words registered in his kiss-addled brain. “My books?”
“They’re of no use sitting in this place anyway,” the other man shrugged, “why don’t we take them back to the Complex?”
“There’s too many, it would be a waste of time,” Dokja waved his hand loosely.
Yoo Joonghyuk shook his head. “It won’t take long with the two of us. Anyway, Mia’s been complaining about being bored lately.”
Dokja cocked his head, thinking. “I suppose.” Now that Joonghyuk had mentioned it, Yoosung and Gilyoung would be happy about it too.
Yoo Joonghyuk stood up and looked back down at him. “Also they would keep you occupied, and I wouldn’t have to worry as much about you running off with your stupid schemes anymore.” He reached out a hand.
A new kind of warmth spread in Dokja’s chest. Like a smoking ember, pulsing, inviting, alive. It curled around his heart, hugging it in a delicate embrace. He felt it beat, once, twice. Three times.
He took the outstretched hand and his companion helped pull him to his feet. Neither of them let go.
“Alright, let’s bring those stories home with us.”
"Speaking of stories, tell me more about the ones you wrote about me and the reader."
"You sunfish bastard!"