Chapter Text
Dokja couldn't believe his eyes.
He was on his way home, sitting on the subway, with the unwelcome addition of Yoo Sangah by his side.
He ignored his coworker, as his eyes frantically traced the letters on the screen of his phone. The last chapter. That was it. The end of the TWSA.
He couldn't scrounge together any embarrassment, only for the reason that the sudden wave of anxiety covered him. His pupils shook as he inevitably came closer and closer to the finishing line. The ending was open, bittersweet, and the melancholy of it gave his heart a painful squeeze. He winced, subtly massaging his chest over where it hurt, still not able to tear his eyes from the words on his phone.
He looked at the side scroller, as it was getting closer and closer to the bottom of the page. He could almost feel his blood pressure rising.
The last thing would be getting a panic attack on the train, he mused, a corner of his mouth lifting in a small self-deprecating smile.
He took a deep breath and read on.
…
Another line, and another. It felt like balm on his heart and like metal wire slowly winding around him at the same time.
…
The author didn't reveal how the characters kept on living after the apocalypse.
…
At least they all survived.
…
Dokja stopped at the last paragraph.
“The sun rose over the broken vista of Seoul. There was hope in the air, still mixed with the smell of acrid smoke, and something metallic. Yoo Joonghyuk wistfully looked down from the rooftop he was on, his eyes slowly gliding over the painfully familiar picture. It was the time to put down his sword, and start building. It was time to build their new future together.
Yoo Mia’s little hand grabbed and pulled on the side of his coat, and he met her earnest face.
-Let's go home, oppa? - she asked simply.
Yoo Joonghyuk nodded and gently clasped her hand in his large scarred fingers.
-Let's.”
…
…
…
That was it.
That was the end.
There was no more way to know what happened to his best friends favorite characters.
Dokja’s eyes shook, the tips of his fingers trembling as he reread the last parts of the epilogue over and over.
He couldn't hear the outside world. It felt like his ears got stuffed with soft cotton, muffling all outside sounds. He felt like he was swaying precariously, equidistant from both the world he was physically in, and now torn away from the story he was inhabiting mentally.
He stopped living in the real world for such a long time ago, but never had it slapped him in the face stronger and with more sting than now.
He wondered if the stunned ringing silence inside his head and emptiness in his heart was what people called shellshock. He still had a natural narration somewhere in the back of his head, always dedicated to the Ways of Survival, but now it was sputtering to a halt gradually.
…
There would be no more.
The thought scared him.
He habitually pushed the anxiety down, ignoring it, and typed his last comment under the chapter.
“ Thank you, author-nim. I really enjoyed your story .”
Sent.
…” please don't end it, I don't know how I'm going to keep on living without it, I can't think, I can't breathe… ” was left unsaid, stuck in his throat. He tried to swallow the uncomfortable lump, but it remained firmly lodged in there, making breathing uncomfortable.
“Legends never die, they become a part of you…” was sung in a song he couldn't quite remember, but now it felt like that part was being slowly torn out of him.
He clutched tighter on his phone, eyes unseeing, trying to block the intrusive thoughts that were creeping in from all sides.
“There's nothing more to live for.”
…
“It was just as much your story, as theirs, and now it's done.”
…
“Your story has come to an end.”
…
“Your story…”
…
He felt bereft, like he had just lost something immensely precious.
It was true that the story saved his life all those years back, and helped him come to terms with his continued survival, but did he really lean on it that much? It couldn't have been his entire sole driving force, could it?
…
It was, wasn't it…
And now there wouldn't be any more of it.
Dokja numbly felt like he was losing what little place he occupied in his life up to this point. He was going home, but it didn't feel like home, it was just a temporary scene location. The train around him, all the people, Yoo Sangah, who was now looking at him in a confused way - all that felt like a decoration.
Maybe he wasn't as much a reader as just another one of those extra characters in a third-rate novel.
…
He slowly lowered his phone away from his face, noting that the author of TWSA answered his comment. They asked him for his email, and wasn't that a little bit suspicious?
Another unfortunate smile curled on his face, as he typed in his information and sent it. He didn't feel like being careful right now. Not with how unreal his life had started feeling around him.
…
Ping!
…
He's gotten mail. A text file and a cryptic note.
The name of the file was identical to the name of his favorite story, and his face scrunched in a desperate try to contain moisture in his eyes. He felt like he'd just received something invaluable.
They sent him the whole story, and it felt like a gift of a great magnitude. The entirety of his favorite universe was contained in that tiny txt file.
Suddenly his phone looked so much more dear to him, and Dokja gently cradled it in his hands, his thumb tracing the name of the text file, his small smile wavering, not meant to be seen.
…
Yoo Sangah, who was spectating from the sidelines, felt confused. Her timid coworker looked like the whole world was crashing around him just a few moments ago, but now he was smiling in such a lovely way, that it made her lower her eyes. She was uncomfortable witnessing something so… private. And in a public space of all places.
…
Back in his world, Dokja was wondering what he was supposed to do with his life, now that it had ground to a screeching halt. Maybe he should reread the story again, from the beginning. And then what?
His mother's words came to mind. “ Then you read it again .”
His life was going to be contained in that text file right along the original characters’.
…
The lights blinked, and the subway suddenly lurched, people swaying with the inertia and falling over each other.
A cruel resonating voice sounded through the train cabin, and Dokja couldn't believe his ears.
His eyes zeroed in on a small fluffy creature floating in the air, and he wondered if he had somehow completely lost his mind a while ago.
This… couldn't be happening.
…
As side character A’s head blew open and splashed people around with blood and brain tissue, Dokja couldn't contain a tiny giggle, but thankfully no one had noticed the unhinged sound.
He felt alive again.
No.
He actually felt more alive than he'd ever felt in his life. Something was pouring into him, a strength he'd never sensed before, a purpose.
He had a chance to meet his favorite characters. The thought alone gave him pleasant shivers. He would be able to see them, talk to them, maybe even touch them, proving they were real.
Another happy little sound escaped his lips, and Yoo Sangah was looking at him with open concern.
Dokja schooled his facial expression into something more neutral, the glee only visible burning in his dark eyes.
He had some survival to do.
…
And since he had to survive to meet the true heroes of the story, his mind whirred into overdrive, coming up with plans. Blood thrummed in his veins. He didn't feel that distant anymore.
…
…
…
Lee Hyunsung looked exactly as he pictured him all this time: large, dependable, a perfect shield.
Dokja's fingers twitched with the curbed intention to touch.
He knew he was a bit obsessed, but what could he do?
…
Could he allow himself to equip that shield when it didn't belong to him? He scrutinized Lee Hyunsung again and couldn't help himself. He came closer, his hand lightly sliding up the expanse of the large arm, as he leaned in, and explained something to Lee Hyunsung, ignoring the small flinch from the man.
…
The man felt alive under his touch.
Dokja stepped back and turned his face away, closing his eyes in a joyful grimace, barely containing himself. He shouldn't scream. He shouldn't cry. Breathe. Just breathe.
…
He didn't even think twice, as he coldly discarded Kim Namwoon. He never liked that character to begin with. The chuuni looked like more trouble than he was worth.
Dokja calmly wiped his shoe on the uniform of the now lifeless body sprawled before him and turned back to face his new exciting life.
…
…
…
As the tornado shaped in the form of a familiar man cleared away the zombies around him, Dokja froze, his mouth going slack.
He was perfect .
The black blood splashed around them, and the orange evening light bounced off the silky black hair, off the white teeth peeking from the frowning mouth, off the angry eyes that now turned to regard him with suspicion.
Elation thrummed inside Kim Dokja.
He couldn't hide his excitement from Yoo Joonghyuk, and the protagonist frowned at him, slightly disturbed by the unfitting reaction from the smaller man.
-Who are you? - He growled.
Dokja welcomed the hand wrapping around his throat, and there was only one answer he could give this man in that particular moment.
-I'm your new companion.
His upturned mouth grew into a full-blown open smile, something like content radiating off his face.
-Take good care of me, Yoo Joonghyuk.