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Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t appreciate the rain. The sound that many found to be so calming, relaxing, and soothing, in reality just grated on his nerves.
It did so now too, especially when he was trapped under the awning of some rundown convenience store, clutching onto his final papers for dear life. Normally, he would’ve braved the awkward jog through the rain, but he couldn’t risk it now.
He clutched the stapled sheets tightly in his hand, grimacing as he read the words over and over. He’d stayed up late last night curating the most rushed research report. Normally, he would’ve put in a little effort — would’ve started it the day it was assigned. He didn’t love the idea of having assignments or anything looming over his head when he could get things done efficiently and well ahead of time.
But it was a little harder to do given Mia’s recent sickness. He’d had to leave university classes earlier, take the subway back to the school she boarded in, and tend to her for the rest of the night.
“Don’t worry about me,” she’d kept telling him. But it was all the more reason for him too.
It wasn’t as if she didn’t have friends to do it for her, but he was an elder brother. It was practically encoded in his genes to be the begrudging mother hen that his sister remarked him to be.
He wanted to argue otherwise, but he realized he really couldn’t refute. Not when he was worried out of his mind, mishearing assignment due dates, and sleep-depriving himself to tend her back to health. All over a simple fever that, given time and proper meds, would’ve well gone down without his intervention.
He sighed and let his hand fall, loosening the tight grip he had on the papers. He mindlessly soothed down the wrinkles as he was lost in thought.
He was lucky enough to be allowed to be granted an extension, and to miraculously have his sister recover the night before, so he could be free to study and cram within the confines of her place during the rainy night.
Yeah, it was raining last night as well. Maybe that, paired with his irritation and urgent need to deliver this paper in the allotted time slot, spurred this abrupt dislike of the rain.
“Have a wonderful day! Come back soon!”
And there it was — his second abrupt dislike.
Yoo Joonghyuk scowled as he adjusted his position on the bench, crossing his arms together and closing his eyes as he determinedly ignored the cashier inside.
“Is this all for today . . . well, ma’am, have a wonderful day!”
Yoo Joonghyuk, irritatedly, switched positions on the bench once again. He leaned back the slightest bit, looking through the foggy glass windows of the convenience store at the cashier who, with utmost cheeriness, seemed to greet every customer so loudly.
The man wore a smile so big and fake that just looking at it made Yoo Joonghyuk’s facial muscles hurt.
He leaned forward again and heaved a sigh. The fact that the convenience store, being as run down as it was, lacked doors was not helping the situation. The noise from inside carried out so freely, even with the drowning sound of the downpour. After all, what store didn’t have doors? That had to have violated several regulations.
Along with that, they didn’t provide any umbrellas either. When Yoo Joonghyuk desperately got caught in the rain and ran in here looking for some sort of salvation, he was met by that infuriating worker’s smile and a fake-polite “sorry, might wanna check out another store nearby” from him.
They both knew damn well there wasn’t anything else close by.
Yoo Joonghyuk felt like the bigger idiot for just grabbing his final paper and running with it. He naively thought that, since the rain had stopped, he would be able to get there on time, hand it in, and finally go back to his own single dorm where he could sleep off the unwarranted stress of the week. Who knew it would turn out to be like this, though?
Yoo Joonghyuk was startled by a rustle of clothing. When he raised his gaze, he found the one and only convenience store worker from before standing at the entrance and looking down at him with equal surprise.
“Oh, you’re still here?” said worker had the audacity to ask. He tugged the strings of his black apron, trying to get it loose.
Yoo Joonghyuk grit his teeth and turned his gaze to the front. It was hard enough to see through this weather, so to miraculously leave in the state that he was in was even more laughable. He shifted his shoes further in, realizing that droplets of rain had started gathering on them.
“Wasn’t aware I was able to go elsewhere in this pleasant weather,” Yoo Joonghyuk grit out. He leaned back against the windows. Old, discolored newspapers and advertisements were haphazardly strewn all over it, and the windows were dusted with a permanent gray, making it foggy and quite unappealing.
Nothing about today seemed to be working out.
The convenience store worker fought with his apron once more, untying the ends and watching the irritated Yoo Joonghyuk on the bench. He didn’t seem all too perturbed by the lack of response and, instead, took a seat right beside him, tossing the apron to the side and revealing the worker’s vest underneath. A simple black vest with an annoyingly neon orange shirt tucked under. Atrocious, really. Yoo Joonghyuk would rather the apron stay on.
He must’ve looked appalled because the worker let out a sudden laugh.
“Relax, I’m just sitting down. Not trying to hurt you, or anything,” he misunderstood.
Yoo Joonghyuk let out a snort, “I don’t think you’d be capable of it.”
The worker only aimed an amused glance at him. “What are you so annoyed about, Yoo Joonghyuk? I’ll lend an ear, given that I’m on break,” he looked down at his imaginary watch, “as of now.”
The last thing a sleep-deprived, espresso-shot lacking Yoo Joonghyuk wanted was to make conversation with the worker who essentially told him to ‘fuck off’ with their previous interaction.
But with the provocative way the worker’s lips moved with his teasing words, the tell-tale glint in his eyes, and the non-smile smile that reached his eyes . . . it all drew him in. His existence was provoking enough.
“You know me?” Yoo Joonghyuk aimed a quick glance at the faded tag pinned on his vest. “Im . . . Doja?”
It was a strange name, as far as strange names go. Yet, who was Yoo Joonghyuk to say anything on that matter?
Im Doja let out a laugh so loud it startled Yoo Joonghyuk out of his bout of irritation. If only for a few seconds. His brows furrowed in annoyance once again.
Im Doja wiped at his eyes, trying his best to rein in controlling breaths. “Ah, sorry,” he said in between breaths. “It’s just . . .”
Im Doja looked at Yoo Joonghyuk, and quickly turned his head to the side to hide another smile that threatened to break his face.
Yoo Joonghyuk knew that he would surely break Im Doja’s face if he continued with this any longer.
Im Doja finally turned back to the front and cleared his throat, shifting his feet inwards and drawing them closer to where Yoo Joonghyuk’s were in order to avoid the creeping rain.
“Of course I know the Supreme King, Yoo Joonghyuk. Only the best of the best in our university’s gaming department.” There was a sparkle in Im Doja’s eyes as he spoke. It didn’t seem all that mocking compared to his previous statements, yet it didn’t sound sincere in the slightest coming from his mouth like that.
Yoo Joonghyuk watched the man in front of him — studying with all seriousness the reckless abandon of his nature, the infuriating smile that spiked his irritation levels even higher, and the familiarity with which he spoke to him
“Unfortunately, I cannot say the same of you,” Yoo Joonghyuk deadpanned. “If you’ve done anything notable over the years, I haven’t heard of it.”
Im Doja let out another unrestrained laugh. Yoo Joonghyuk was getting a little too used to the suddenness in the change of Im Doja’s emotions.
And yet he couldn’t figure the man out, try as he may.
“Jeez, an ice-cold, stoic princess, just as the rumors mentioned.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s brows twitched. “Didn’t get any umbrellas in stock since I last asked?” he asked instead, determined to put the princess accusation in the very, very back and dusty corner of his mind. He vowed to hunt Im Doja down later and end him right at this sketchy excuse of a store.
Im Doja raised his eyebrow. “Oh? That must explain your irritation,” he tsked as he slid back and let his head fall back against the window. His bangs shifted, loosely hanging in front of his eyes. It almost made him look soft, in a sense. What a contrast to that personality of his.
“What kind of convenience store doesn’t have umbrellas?” Yoo Joonghyuk finally couldn’t help but ask. “I wouldn’t be stuck in this situation otherwise.”
He knew he was mostly to blame for his own predicament. Had he grabbed an umbrella on his way out, or at least his own backpack, he would’ve been able to leave. But, he didn’t want to admit that out loud, at least not in front of this man.
Im Dokja shrugged. “I told you to check out something nearby, didn’t I? I’m surprised you’re still here, honestly, given how frantic you looked before.”
Yoo Joonghyuk let out a suffering sigh, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “Even if there was anything nearby, I can’t leave in this state.” He clutched the final papers in his hands and waved them in the air. “Not with my final project on the line.”
“Oh shit,” Im Doja’s eyes widened, “isn’t that due soon?” He asked as if Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t aware. As a university student himself, he must’ve known that finals were wrapping up as of today, making this the very last opportunity for anything to be turned in.
Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t respond, only turned back to the front and eyed the rain as if it had personally wronged him. Which, in a sense, it had.
From beside him, Im Doja stood up with a sudden bounce. He began pacing the short distance under the awning, hands on his hips.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes traced the movement, from the intense look of concentration on his face and the gnawing of his lips, to the slim waist on which those slender hands lay, down to the tapping of his worn-out shoes against the ground.
“Uh, okay, wait,” Im Doja stopped his pacing, splaying his hands out as if Yoo Joonghyuk was planning on going anywhere in the first place. “Wait right here, okay? I’ll be back. Just wait.”
Yoo Joonghyuk squeezed his fists against the final papers and watched as Im Doja retreated. Just for the sake of going against him, Yoo Joonghyuk was tempted to waste all his efforts and brave the mad dash to university — soggy paper and everything.
He pulled out his phone and quickly checked the time. He had at least half an hour left, of which 10 minutes would be spent getting to campus, and another 10 spent getting to the classroom.
With loud shuffled footsteps, Im Doja returned faster than Yoo Joonghyuk had expected, and he came brandishing a bright pink umbrella and a worn out, thankfully plain and simple, black backpack. He was slightly panting as if the short run had stolen the air out of his lungs, and really, how physically incapable did someone have to be for that?
Yoo Joonghyuk felt his eyes twitch. He wasn’t one to comment on people’s styles, not when he was decked out in black like he was attending a new funeral every day. But, at least, he had the sense to not have the most deranged and abhorrent preference for neons.
He eyed the orange shirt as if to make a point to himself.
“Here,” Im Doja thrust out the two things in his hands. Yoo Joonghyuk had the mind to inch away from them, but he restrained.
“You suddenly manifested an umbrella? Convenient,” he muttered.
Im Doja rolled his eyes, his hands retracting the items slightly. “These are my things, bastard. Use them to get to university safe and sound, so you can turn that in and not have your grade tank.”
Yoo Joonghyuk blinked at him and eyed the items warily once more — not with the previous intent he held. He was almost a little . . . taken aback. He felt as if he’d sorely misjudged Im Doja’s character, because why else would he turn out to be less of a rat bastard than Yoo Joonghyuk had thought him to be before?
If one excused his horrible choice of clothing and that infuriating grin that turned Yoo Joonghyuk’s stomach over, then he seemed to be a pretty decent person. Maybe.
“Don’t run away with them though, hm? I wouldn’t put it past you to steal a poor university student’s belongings, but who knows?” Im Doja shrugged.
So much for a decent person.
Silence stretched between them as the downpour raged behind, and when Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t make a move to take them, Im Doja rolled his eyes before reaching out his own hands and placing them in Yoo Joonghyuk’s.
“I was kidding. Sorta.” He smiled. “Just take it bastard, won’t you?”
His smooth, slender fingers brushed lightly against the rough, calloused hands of Yoo Joonghyuk. There was a surprising warmth to them, and Yoo Joonghyuk almost regretted how fleeting the contact was.
Im Doja shuffled a few steps back, putting a respectable distance between them once more.
More silence passed by as Yoo Joonghyuk wondered whether he should say something. Im Doja just looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Aren’t you leaving?”
Right. Right, yeah.
Yoo Joonghyuk slightly bowed his head, feeling a bit awkward at the sudden act of kindness. Though the whole interaction was 51 parts infuriating and 49 parts intriguing, he couldn’t stay for much longer.
He put his final paper in some random folder he found in the backpack, opened up the umbrella, and made his way out. His footsteps were calculated and awkward, and he contemplated the manner in which foot should go first. Right? Left?
He suddenly turned back after only a few steps, and over the short distance, he muttered a quick ‘thank you.’ Whether it was heard or not, he wouldn’t know, but the wide grin on Im Doja’s face told him enough.
He turned around and started walking faster, his footsteps splashing against the ground while feeling better already knowing he would get there on time — even if that meant being seen with this umbrella.
But before he made it very far, he heard muffled yelling.
When he turned around he saw Kim Dokja cup his hands around his mouth and shout something he could barely make out.
“It’s not . . . it’s . . .”
Yoo Joonghyuk strained his hearing against the loud pitter-patter of the fat droplets against the umbrella. With the act, he unconsciously moved a few steps closer in Im Doja’s direction.
“It’s not Im Doja! It’s Kim, Kim Dokja!” The man yelled over their distance.
His dark eyes sparkled with laughter, and it was quite contagious. Yoo Joonghyuk felt the corners of his mouth lift.
As far as strange names go, this was still high up on the list. An only child? A reader? No matter the meaning, Yoo Joonghyuk found that it suited him a lot better.
Kim Dokja.
He shook his head and turned away after that, rushing the rest of the way to get to class.
***
Kim Dokja smiled at the retreating figure, setting his hands on his hips once more.
“What a strange guy,” he shook his head.
He quickly went back in and grabbed his keys, before eyeing the rain in front a little more carefully, as if that would do anything. He shrugged and ran through the rain with his hands held above his head, blindly making his way through.
Truthfully, his shift had ended the moment he stepped out. He was done, and another worker clocked in from the storage room. Kim Dokja wanted to leave early today, for the first time in the entirety of the shifts that he’d worked here, but he couldn’t when Yoo Joonhyuk sat there looking like such a grumpy sunfish.
It was amusing, to say the least.
Plus, the way he got aggravated with every remark that slipped out of Kim Dokja’s mouth, along with the whole misunderstanding of his name . . . it was all too comical to end. It was almost a little regretful having to see the man leave, knowing he wouldn’t ever come back.
Yet, now Kim Dokja came up with a reason to get him to return once more — if only for his stuff.
He let a wide smile take over his face as he continued running to the nearest bus stop.
Kim Dokja knew one thing now, at least. He loved the rain.