Work Text:
1:49 am.
The glow from the phone screen illuminated Kim Dokja’s face within the warm bubble created by the blankets. The sunfish died at the end of the chapter like always, but despite himself, Kim Dokja was smiling softly. Regression turns where Yoo Joonghyuk sacrificed something of himself for his companions felt different. It was more personal when the protagonist who protected him for years chose to live and die for others, even if it was only for a moment.
Kim Dokja opened the comment section, clear and pristine like a field of snow. Usually he would write his thoughts on the chapter, talk about the characters or ask the author a question. But after staring blankly at the screen for several minutes organising his thoughts, he was struck with the same recurring fear. He exhaled shakily and felt his ears burn as he typed just a single sentence.
[Author-nim, please don’t stop writing this story.]
It was unlike them, but tls123 responded almost instantly.
Kim Dokja felt his breathing grow steady again. He flipped the covers off his face and blinked at the crisp air that rushed towards him. Seeing his phone battery was at 51%, he left it to charge before resting his head on the pillow and burying himself under the blanket.
***
Elsewhere in Seoul, a young woman sat at her desk in the darkness as the glare from the computer screen highlighted the contours of her face. She rolled a piece of lemon candy around her mouth as she typed, the clacking of the keys audible against the backdrop of traffic still clogging the streets even at this hour. Possessing a body that hadn’t had a real rest in years, she forced her fingers to move. To type the next sentence and the next, no matter what.
She watched herself try to navigate her teenage years and young adulthood, ignored finger cramps when they arose, pushed herself through writer’s block and killed her desire to edit as she went. The story was a neverending first draft. Unrefined nonsense. It didn’t surprise her that only one person read it, but she knew it would be like this from the start. As much as the novel went against every writer’s instinct she had spent her life honing, she couldn’t bring herself to hate her work.
Intense pressure built in her head like her skull was being condensed and she clenched her jaw until the lemon candy shattered. The main body’s consciousness was strong even in sleep. The pressure faded as quickly as it came, and she blinked and shook her head until her vision cleared. She froze when the screen came back into focus and displayed a new comment from the one this was all for. He shouldn’t be up this late. She dragged the cursor over and clicked on the notification.
Normally, she wouldn’t entertain conversation this late since she was reluctant to encourage his poor sleeping habits, but she always made an exception for this kind of comment.
[Don’t worry, Reader-nim. I’ll keep writing it until the end.]
She went back to the newest chapter to once again write the suffering of people she reached the end of the story with. She crushed memories of the time they spent together as she recreated their deaths. There was no point in thinking about the life she lived before.
It hurt.
But as long as the story could save him, she would keep writing it.
He was worth it.