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“Kim Dokja,” growled Yoo Joonghyuk.
“Yoo Joonghyuk,” mimicked Kim Dokja.
“I told you not to hold me back.”
“I’m not holding you back, you’re holding yourself back.” Kim Dokja wrestled the multimeter leads out of Yoo Joonghyuk’s grip. “What are you even trying to accomplish?”
Yoo Joonghyuk wrestled them back. “The lab. Go sit down. I’ll do all of it.”
Kim Dokja balked. “I’m not failing the one class that’s barring me from graduation because some asshole nuked my participation grade. Ever heard of the power of friendship, Yoo Joonghyuk?”
“No. Be quiet.” Fiddling with the clips, Yoo Joonghyuk re-immersed the electrodes into the solution and checked the voltmeter. On its display screen remained a fat, disappointed zero.
“I’m telling you, the connections aren’t secured properly,” said Kim Dokja. “Move.”
Yoo Joonghyuk adjusted the clips again. “They’re fine. All the points of contact are conductors.”
“And yet the circuit’s incomplete.”
“Shut up. I’ll fix this.”
“No you won’t, you’ve been trying for the past five minutes. Stop manspreading over the lab bench if you’re not going to do anything.”
Yoo Joonghyuk glared at Kim Dokja. Unfortunately for him, Kim Dokja had been pissing people off all his life and was thus unfazed. “Fine.” He all but shoved the unresponsive electrodes at Kim Dokja. “Fix it yourself.”
Kim Dokja gave his lab partner a smug grin, which made Yoo Joonghyuk glare harder and brought Kim Dokja more joy. He turned his attention to the electrodes in his hands.
He hated to admit it, but Yoo Joonghyuk’s connections really were flawless. He’d thought the dead circuit was due to Yoo Joonghyuk’s incompetence, but…
“Nothing to say now, Kim Dokja?”
“Shut up. I can fix this.” Yoo Joonghyuk was smirking, he could feel it.
He refused to let that bastard win.
Kim Dokja put the electrodes back into solution and checked the voltmeter. Still nothing. Maybe if he messed with the settings a bit?
Jung Heewon, the lab course’s TA, walked by their station while Kim Dokja was contemplating whether turning the dial clockwise or counterclockwise would grant him better feng shui. She peered over Kim Dokja’s shoulder at their set-up. “Where’s your salt bridge?”
Shit.
“Fool,” scoffed Yoo Joonghyuk.
“You didn’t realize either, you sunfish!” But Yoo Joonghyuk was already gone, striding through the freshmen towards the fume hood and glaring daggers at anyone who dared to cross his imperial path.
On the last day of registration earlier that semester, Kim Dokja had received a notice from the university that, although he was set to graduate at the end of the academic year, he still had not fulfilled his mandatory laboratory course requirement.
Frankly, Kim Dokja had completely forgotten about it. He had planned to take his second and final Chemistry Lab credit at the end of his first year, but he’d ended up dropping the course because his assigned lab partner had smelled so bad, he didn’t think he’d survive the semester.
Next semester, he told himself.
He didn’t do it the next semester. Or in any of the many, many semesters after that.
And now here he was, paired with the biggest gaping asshole that he’d ever had the absolute privilege to associate himself with.
Wordlessly, Yoo Joonghyuk returned, plopping the salt bridge between their two electrode wells.
At least he smelled okay. And looked like the embodiment of all things beautiful on Earth.
The voltmeter reading had barely stabilized before Yoo Joonghyuk picked up the 6-well plate and dumped its contents into their waste beaker.
“What the fuck,” stated Kim Dokja.
“What.”
“Did you even record the data?”
“No need. I memorized it.”
“Are you going to record it?”
“No.”
Kim Dokja reluctantly steeled his pride. “...I didn’t see the reading.”
“I figured.”
Asshole. “Will you impart upon your precious lab partner this great knowledge of the Universe?”
“No. I told you not to slow me down.”
Never mind, Kim Dokja was going to end Yoo Joonghyuk in his sleep. “It’s standard laboratory procedure to record the data. Write it down.”
“I’d rather fail than carry deadweight.”
“Yoo Joonghyuk, I’m not deadweight. All team efforts require just a shred of human empathy so that people can work together. Do you lack even that?”
“Only for people who get on my nerves.”
“All I’m doing is asking for the run data.”
“You’re wasting my time.”
“No, you’re wasting our time.”
But Yoo Joonghyuk was already moving on, reconnecting the electrodes and preparing a different solution. “There’s no ‘our’ in this. I’ll be done by 3.”
Kim Dokja was fuming now. “Do what you will.” And Yoo Joonghyuk was calling him deadweight?
They worked in tense silence for the next half hour, each collecting and recording his own data. It was 2:30 by the time they both individually finished the lab, and 10 minutes later, they had cleaned up their workspaces and were racing towards the exit.
“Joonghyuk-oppa!” came a voice from a neighboring bench. “Please come here!”
Yoo Joonghyuk sighed, brows furrowing to glare at the younger girl. “What.”
She giggled, oblivious to his apparent frustration. “We wanted to ask you something.”
As Yoo Joonghyuk stood still and debated if he should actively ignore the underclassman, Kim Dokja brushed by with a satisfied smirk. “Don’t get in my way, Yoo Joonghyuk.”
–
Some things Kim Dokja learned about Yoo Joonghyuk in the first few weeks of their unfortunate partnership:
- Yoo Joonghyuk was an asshole. A bigger one than the rumor mill could ever have dreamed of.
- Yoo Joonghyuk would stop at nothing to speedrun the lab.
- Yoo Joonghyuk was an eye-searing, heart-fluttering, devastating type of hot. Kim Dokja resented him for it.
The next Friday, Kim Dokja entered the lab class fueled by a sense of what must have been destiny. He had read the lab manual earlier that day until he had it nearly memorized, and he was determined to make Yoo Joonghyuk cry and beg for forgiveness.
Unfortunately, that jerk seemed to have done the exact same thing.
“I know you’re an infallible asshat, but you shouldn’t bully the freshmen,” chided Kim Dokja as he and Yoo Joonghyuk sat side-by-side at their lab bench, watching their separate electrolytic cells plate copper onto brass. “They’re impressionable. Don’t prime the future generations to act like you.”
Yoo Joonghyuk seemed to be resolutely ignoring him. No matter, Kim Dokja would just have to bait him a little more. “It could help you, too. I’m sure companies would be scrambling over themselves to give you job offers if you showed them even an ounce of basic human decency.”
“I do,” said Yoo Joonghyuk immediately.
Ah, thought Kim Dokja. Insult Yoo Joonghyuk’s pride and he will emerge into the light of social interaction. “You do what?”
“Have job offers.”
“No way! Tell me, what did you blackmail them with?”
Yoo Joonghyuk scowled. “I’m plenty competent, unlike you.”
“I’m sure you are. After all, you’re Yoo Joonghyuk, the brightest star of the Engineering Department. Did you tell them that?”
“No.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll do it. We’re very proud of you for bringing honor to our esteemed university.”
Yoo Joonghyuk looked away. “Be quiet.”
“A shame though, that someone so young and talented has the social skills of a snail,” said Kim Dokja with a shake of his head.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze came back to fixate on Kim Dokja. “Yours aren’t much better. From what I’ve seen, all you do is spout bullshit.”
That yanked a surprised laugh out of Kim Dokja. “Is that jealousy I hear? Don’t worry, Yoo Joonghyuk, I can teach you my ways. It’d be a shame for me to leave this place without a legacy, anyway.”
“I’m sure you’ve traumatized enough people for it to be called that.”
“Hm, traumatized is one way to put it. I like to call it enlightenment.”
“Then please keep me in the dark.”
“You’ll go blind.”
“We’ll all be blind when we’re dead and buried.”
“Woah, Yoo Joonghyuk! Is that any way to be when you’re an inspiring upperclassman who’ll be leading a generation of young students?”
Yoo Joonghyuk averted his eyes. “...No. and I’m not that.”
Kim Dokja, feeling weird, felt a sudden urge to comfort him. “They look up to you,” he said, far more gently than he’d intended to.
“They shouldn’t.”
Silence. Now that he wasn’t pissing him off, Kim Dokja realized that he had no clue how to actually interact with Yoo Joonghyuk. Feeling inexplicably restless, he decided to revert to his old ways.
“Then maybe stop being an asshole and they’ll have a good reason to.”
He hadn’t realized Yoo Joonghyuk’s perpetual scowl had abated until it came back again, full-force. “I won’t.” Resolutely, he turned his focus back to his beakers.
Kim Dokja shrugged. Honestly, he hadn’t been expecting anything remotely close to a conversation, much less whatever this interaction was. Maybe he’d underestimated that sunfish.
He was returning from a trip to the analytical balances when he saw the girl from last week in his seat, leaning into Yoo Joonghyuk while Yoo Joonghyuk leaned awkwardly away.
“Joonghyuk-oppa,” she was saying, a slight whine in her voice. “Help me just this once. Please!”
“I helped you last week. Do it yourself.”
“It’ll be quick! One minute!”
“No. Go away.”
Kim Dokja set his lab notebook down on Yoo Joonghyuk’s other side and started scribbling his data into his notes. “Don’t mind me!” he said cheerfully. “Please, carry on.”
The girl spared him a glance before scooting her – Kim Dokja’s – chair closer to Yoo Joonghyuk. “Oppa, I really need you.”
Yoo Joonghyuk ignored her in favor of cleaning up. “Move. You’re in the way.”
Yikes, stone-cold.
The girl drew back with a pout. “Seolhwa-unnie said you’d help me.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s scowl deepened. “I said I’d help if you needed it. You don’t need it.”
“I really do this time, I promise!”
“No. I have to clean up and go.”
“I’ll wash that for you,” offered Kim Dokja, taking Yoo Joonghyuk’s glassware with a smile and silently begging for the drama to continue. Yoo Joonghyuk eyed him suspiciously.
“Kim Dokja, you–”
“No! I’ll wash that for you!” said the girl.
“Hey, seriously, don’t do that for him,” Kim Dokja tried to tell her. “He doesn’t deserve that from anyone.”
“Then why’d you offer? So you could get closer to him? So he could owe you something?”
“No, I didn’t think about it like that.”
“Then why?”
So I could listen in on your conversation and gossip about it later , but Kim Dokja couldn’t exactly say that. “Because we’re lab partners?”
The girl looked pointedly in the direction of their 2 very independently-completed experiments. “You don’t act like it. How about Joonghyuk-oppa becomes my lab partner and she ,” she gestured to her lab bench where her partner was sanding the electrode, “can be yours? It could help you with your social life!”
Kim Dokja grimaced. “Are you insulting my social skills?”
“Of course not! I just think you two would work well together! You’re always arguing with Joonghyuk-oppa anyway; we can all hear you.”
Well. Kim Dokja looked sheepishly over to Yoo Joonghyuk, who was glaring daggers into the wall.
“Fine,” said Yoo Joonghyuk, rising. “I’ll help you on the condition that you never speak to me again.” He strode away towards the girl’s lab bench.
“Wait!” she hurried to catch up to him. “What about Seolhwa-unnie?”
Kim Dokja stood at their now-empty bench’s sink, flabbergasted and feeling like the side villain in a cliche romantic K-drama. Did a freshman just passive-aggressively try to set him up with another freshman? Maybe he should go and contemplate his life decisions.
When Yoo Joonghyuk returned, Kim Dokja was getting ready to head out. He raised an eyebrow, asking a silent question.
Yoo Joonghyuk let out an angry breath in response. “I never want to speak to people again.”
Kim Dokja nodded sagely in faux understanding. “Then I wish you a healthy hermitage.”
–
Halfway through the next week, Kim Dokja received an email summoning him to Dr. Uriel’s office.
The first thing he saw upon walking through the door was Yoo Joonghyuk’s too-handsome, too-perfect face. He rubbed furiously at his eyes until the sparkles faded to oblivion.
“Ah, you’re here,” said Dr. Uriel from her seat at her desk. Kim Dokja silently wondered why it was that the people he saw regularly were unimaginably stunning. “Kim Dokja, Yoo Joonghyuk. Do you know why I’ve summoned you two here today?”
Kim Dokja shook his head. Beside him, Yoo Joonghyuk was as still as a statue.
“Then let me ask you this. Why do you think we put students in pairs to do lab work?”
Ah. They were screwed.
“Cooperation! Teamwork! Camaraderie! Do these words mean anything to the two of you?” Uriel slammed her palms into her desk, startling Kim Dokja. “I was personally invested in your partnership! I was the one who paired the two of you together, thinking you could bond through your close age! And what did you give me?” Uriel slapped a small stack of papers. “This! Lab reports with different data sets on two separate occasions. I’m heartbroken!”
And so Uriel preached to them about how this society no longer valued companionship as it ought to, and how future generations would be ruined by the evil of heartless independence as it pulled relationships apart. By the end of it, Kim Dokja had to wipe the tears from his eyes.
“And so!” Uriel concluded, pointing at Yoo Joonghyuk and Kim Dokja in turn, “Please work together.” She took a small bow while Kim Dokja burst into applause.
“Don’t worry, Professor,” Kim Dokja reassured her. “We’ll do our best. Better than our best! Right, Yoo Joonghyuk?” Yoo Joonghyuk nodded, face blank. Kim Dokja smiled brightly as he faced Uriel again. “Please look forward to it.”
–
Unfortunately, Uriel’s little pep talk was only a temporary buff (for Kim Dokja, at least. What effect it had had on Yoo Joonghyuk, he couldn’t tell for the life of him). By the time Friday afternoon rolled around again, Kim Dokja had once more developed an aversion to Yoo Joonghyuk’s face.
“If you keep frowning like that, you’ll develop some really unsavory wrinkles at a young age,” he told Yoo Joonghyuk as they were setting up their water bath.
Actually, he could never be averse to Yoo Joonghyuk’s face. It was more like a knee-jerk reaction to combat his lab partner’s assholery. Self-defense, really.
“Worry about your own face,” said Yoo Joonghyuk, unfazed.
“Ah, but there is science in relativity.” With nothing else to do, Kim Dokja entertained himself by spouting more nonsense. “You see, in a normal person’s face, a few wrinkles in odd places would be fine, since there’s not a huge difference in the before and the after. For you though, the difference between something flawless and something with a small blemish would be much more noticeable.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s large hands paused for a second before resuming their work faster than before. It suddenly struck Kim Dokja that he had just described Yoo Joonghyuk’s face with the word ‘flawless’.
“Objectively speaking, I mean,” Kim Dokja added hastily. “Anyone would agree.”
Yoo Joonghyuk said nothing. Kim Dokja busied himself with preparing a solution they wouldn’t need for another 40 minutes.
With Kim Dokja having finally shut up, their lab bench had gotten strangely quiet. It wasn’t long before Kim Dokja’s skin began to prickle with the weight of Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze.
“Kim Dokja, go turn on the vacuum.”
He leveled Yoo Joonghyuk with a flat stare as he pointedly, very slowly, finished mixing his solution.
Yoo Joonghyuk glared. “Kim Dokja.”
“Yes, your Royal Highness.”
Five minutes later, Yoo Joonghyuk issued another Imperial Decree.
“Kim Dokja, go fill the syringe.”
He filled the syringe and screwed it into the stopper.
“Start the vacuum.”
Kim Dokja felt his patience snap. “Yoo Joonghyuk, are you getting off on this or something? Keep acting like this and your ego will get so big you won't be able to fit through the door.”
Yoo Joonghyuk glared, but there was no menace behind it. “It’s so we’ll finish on time.”
“And by ‘on time,’ you mean 90 minutes before the end of class? What are you leaving so early for, anyway?”
“...none of your business.”
“Ooh, classy.”
Surprisingly, the rest of the lab went alright. There were 0 fistfights (rounding to the nearest integer), and they were both able to leave before Yoo Joonghyuk’s non-negotiable 3pm deadline with the same data set and miraculously minimal mental damage.
“I’ll see you next week then,” said Kim Dokja as they parted ways.
Yoo Joonghyuk blessed him with a curt nod before heading off in the opposite direction, dark clothes cutting an impressive figure in the bright sunlight.
–
Somehow, Kim Dokja started seeing more of Yoo Joonghyuk. Wandering around campus, riding public transportation, and on one odd occasion, in the university library.
“What are you doing here?” asked Kim Dokja after he got over his initial surprise of seeing Yoo Joonghyuk outside their shared class, wearing a pair of round reading glasses.
“None of your business,” said Yoo Joonghyuk eloquently, glaring daggers into his laptop screen as it stared back at him, dense with code.
Though Kim Dokja had stopped by the library to get his assignment printed, he had nothing else to do for the rest of the day. Feeling a preliminary rush of dopamine from envisioning Yoo Joonghyuk with that irate-but-tolerant expression he gets sometimes, Kim Dokja pulled out an empty chair beside his lab partner and sat himself down.
“What are you doing,” Yoo Joonghyuk more stated than asked.
“Gonna do some work,” said Kim Dokja happily. “You’ve inspired me.”
“Go somewhere else.”
“It’s okay, Joonghyuk-ie. I know you really want me to stay, deep in your tsundere heart.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips turned downwards. “I don’t. And I don’t have that.”
“What, you’re telling me you’re not a tsundere? Hm, I guess you’re right. You’re all tsun- and no -dere. It’s kind of disappointing.” Yoo Joonghyuk was starting to look relieved, so Kim Dokja quickly amended. “You must be deeply closeted.”
Yoo Joonghyuk scowled and slouched deeper into his seat. It only affected his image by shifting it from hot to cute and did no overall damage. Curse Yoo Joonghyuk and his stupid glasses and his stupid face. Kim Dokja smiled through the pain.
“...did you do the post-lab?” asked Yoo Joonghyuk.
“Not yet,” said Kim Dokja. “Did you?”
“No.”
Kim Dokja waited, expectant, but Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t say anything else. Bastard. He pulled out his laptop and pulled up an assignment he could no longer afford to procrastinate. Fifteen minutes after he began typing out his outline, Yoo Joonghyuk spoke.
“What did you get for the first section?”
Kim Dokja looked up from his screen. “What?”
“The first section.”
“Of what?”
Yoo Joonghyuk glared at him, impatient, and leaned over to look at his screen. “You’re not doing the post-lab.”
Kim Dokja couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Why would I?”
“It’s due.”
“In half a week.”
“Do it now. It’s more convenient.”
“This one’s due tonight.”
Yoo Joonghyuk went back to his own screen. “Forget it.”
Kim Dokja felt giddy. “Yoo Joonghyuk, did you want to work together?”
“I said forget it.”
Was he sulking? Kim Dokja couldn’t help the smile that crept its way onto his face. “Why didn’t you just say so like a normal person?”
“It was obvious,”
“Really? I couldn’t tell.”
Yoo Joonghyuk shut his laptop abruptly. “I have to be somewhere.”
“Wait, wait!” Kim Dokja flung out a hand and grabbed hold of Yoo Joonghyuk’s forearm before he could get up from his seat. “I’m sorry for teasing you. Let’s do the post-lab.”
“...you should do your assignment.”
Kim Dokja grinned. “I’ll do it later. Doing the post-lab now is more convenient.”
Working with Yoo Joonghyuk was pretty alright when they both agreed to cooperate, and they finished the post-lab and the next week’s pre-lab in no time.
“You know, I hadn’t pinned you as the studious sort,” said Kim Dokja after Yoo Joonghyuk finished explaining a chemistry concept he’d learned as a first-year and promptly forgotten, never expecting to have to use it again.
“What sort did you think I was then?”
“A protagonist.” Kim Dokja studied him, never one to be satisfied with low-hanging fruit when it came to Yoo Joonghyuk. “Or a pro gamer. The kind that’s hated by his teammates, solos everyone in team battles for no reason, and who everyone wants to retire because he’s so good that no one else stands a chance.”
Wordlessly, Yoo Joonghyuk took Kim Dokja’s pen and dropped it down the back of his shirt collar.
Kim Dokja yelped and twisted, grasping at air. “What was that for?”
Yoo Joonghyuk ignored him. “You’d be a squid.”
“...why?”
“Because you look like one.”
“Yoo Joonghyuk, just because everyone can’t go around with your face doesn’t mean–”
“It’s not an insult.”
Yoo Joonghyuk ended up staying with Kim Dokja until late that night, when Kim Dokja finally submitted his other assignment. From then on, Kim Dokja found himself dropping by that spot in the library when he needed to do work. Sometimes, Yoo Joonghyuk would turn up, too.
–
“Take it off.”
“It’s not ready. It’ll take too long to prepare if we take it off now.”
“It’s going to get hotter anyway. Take it off.”
“The next step only takes a few seconds, so the timing will be perfect. Even if it warms up too quickly, we can just cool it down again.”
“Doing that would take too long.”
“I’m not taking it off. We can do it just fine if we leave it on.”
“Don’t be hasty.”
“You’re the one who’s always complaining that I take too long.”
“That’s only when your speed won’t affect the result. We can’t do it well if you skip these steps.”
“But it doesn’t matter! We’re still doing what’s important.”
“Be quiet. It’s been on for long enough, so take it off.”
“Excuse me, we don’t tolerate inappropriate discussion during class time,” interrupted Jung Heewon, cutting between them with a look of horror. “If you’re going to talk like this, go somewhere else.”
“...what are you talking about?”
“Kim Dokja, are you serious? I expected better from you. Shouldn’t you be setting an example for the underclassmen?”
Kim Dokja stared at Jung Heewon, confused. “I don’t know what you mean. We were talking about our water bath.”
Jung Heewon glared at their beaker on the hot plate, then at Yoo Joonghyuk, then back at Kim Dokja. “Why’d you say it like that, then?”
“Like what?”
Jung Heewon eyed Yoo Joonghyuk, whose face was entirely expressionless, then groaned. “Nothing. Why are the two of you such dumbasses?”
“We didn’t even do anything!” complained Kim Dokja.
“You’re distracting everyone around you! Stop arguing about pointless things and get back to your experiment. Your water bath’s overheating.”
“Shit.”
“I told you this would happen, fool.”
“Shut up, Yoo Joonghyuk.”
–
Maybe this was his own fault.
Kim Dokja was standing outside his storage closet of a room at 3am, regretting many of his life decisions. He had procrastinated a particularly distasteful project to the point of having to stay up this late to complete it, and in his astounding luck, had forgotten his keys and locked himself out.
He would die before he ever called his landlord this late, and he didn’t regard any of his friends lowly enough to have to wake them at this ungodly hour except Han Sooyoung, but she’d just laugh at him for a few minutes and abandon him to sleep in the hallway or on the streets.
And so here he was, sitting on the floor outside his room and mindlessly scrolling through his newly-updated webnovels. It would be another 4 hours at least before it would be a remotely reasonable time to call his landlord, so Kim Dokja would just wait here until then.
He was just thinking that one of the webnovel protagonists he was reading about suspiciously resembled Yoo Joonghyuk, when he suddenly remembered that he had acquired his number a week or so ago in the library.
With few other options, Kim Dokja called him. To his surprise, Yoo Joonghyuk picked up on the first ring.
“What.” His voice was low and deeper than usual.
“Hello, my one and only partner in life and death! How are you doing this evening?”
“Kim Dokja. It’s 3 in the morning.”
“Haha, sorry. You said you lived near campus, right? Could I drop in for the night? I’m locked out of my room.”
There was rustling on the other line, then Kim Dokja felt his phone buzz. “That’s my building. I’ll come down to get you.”
Kim Dokja breathed out in relief. “Thank you so much, Joonghyuk.”
There was a short pause before the line went dead. Normally, Kim Dokja would be cursing Yoo Joonghyuk’s shitty social skills, but in his current situation, he couldn't even bring himself to do that in his head.
Luckily, Yoo Joonghyuk’s building was close by. As Kim Dokja entered the brightly-lit atrium and saw Yoo Joonghyuk seated on an armchair near the entrance, his mouth went dry.
It was the first time he’d ever seen Yoo Joonghyuk dressed in a color besides black. He was wearing faded gray sweatpants and a worn, white short-sleeve shirt with his sculpted forearms on full display. His hair was down and more artfully tousled than usual, and he was wearing those glasses again.
“Kim Dokja,” he said, voice still a little deeper than usual.
“Ah, thanks for–” Kim Dokja had to clear his throat, “thanks for coming down.”
Yoo Joonghyuk nodded. “Let’s go.”
Unwilling to look anywhere else, Kim Dokja’s eyes found the floor. Yoo Joonghyuk had black wolf slippers. Shit, Kim Dokja was going to have a heart attack.
“Why are you up so late?” asked Yoo Joonghyuk as he led the way over to the elevator.
“Uh, I had a project,” said Kim Dokja, finding his voice. “It took a bit longer than expected.” Yoo Joonghyuk was looking at him with dark eyes, and Kim Dokja’s eyes went back to his slippers. “Did I wake you?”
“No. I was working, too. I’ll probably stay up longer to finish.”
“Sorry I interrupted.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s fingers lifted Kim Dokja’s chin gently, forcing their gazes to meet. “Don’t apologize and don’t thank me. It’s strange.”
Kim Dokja let out a breath of laughter at how unreal this entire situation felt. “Why? Not used to it coming from me?”
Yoo Joonghyuk dropped his hand and pushed a button on the elevator. “My sister’s sleeping, so be quiet. You’ll sleep in my room.”
“I can take the couch if you have one,” Kim Dokja protested.
“I don’t want Mia to wake up and think someone broke in. She’s usually up before me.” The elevator doors opened, and Kim Dokja followed Yoo Joonghyuk to his door.
The inside of Yoo Joonghyuk’s residence was clean yet lived-in. Pictures were hung up on the walls, some depicting a young girl who had the shadow of Yoo Joonghyuk’s sharp features, others were framed drawings made by an immature hand, and there were even a few martial arts certificates.
“She looks like you,” said Kim Dokja, staring at what may have been the only picture of Yoo Joonghyuk on the walls, his lips quirked in a small smile as Yoo Mia grinned at the camera with a gold medal in her hand.
“She’s a good kid,” said Yoo Joonghyuk. “Want water?”
“No thanks. Can I use your shower?”
After washing up and brushing his teeth with an extra toothbrush, Kim Dokja found Yoo Joonghyuk in his room, typing up a storm at his desk. He stopped when he heard Kim Dokja approach.
“Bed,” he said.
“What?”
“Sleep on the bed.”
“What about you?”
“I will, too. I haven’t cleaned the floors yet.”
Kim Dokja balked. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.”
“I do.” Yoo Joonghyuk glared. “Sleep on the bed or sleep outside.”
So Kim Dokja got on the bed, which was a lot bigger and much more comfortable than any university student’s bed had any business being. “Thanks again–” he started to say, but he was cut off.
“It’s fine.”
He thought he’d have trouble falling asleep in the unfamiliar room, but Yoo Joonghyuk’s quiet presence in the room reminded Kim Dokjas of the nights he’d lie awake in a room too empty and too silent, hoping for a bit of warmth to coax him to sleep.
That night, he drifted off to the gentle light coming from Yoo Joonghyuk’s desk lamp, cocooned in the sounds of erratic typing and a comforting scent.
–
Kim Dokja awoke to a loud gasp.
“Oppa! Did you get a boyfriend?”
As his mind scrambled to catch up to his surroundings, his aching eyes blinked open and were immediately met with a firm, wide chest.
The pectoral muscles shifted beneath a white shirt, and Kim Dokja suddenly became fully aware of his surroundings as Yoo Joonghyuk sat up from beside him.
“Mia?” he asked, voice rough with sleep.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” asked the child in the doorway. Yoo Mia looked just like her pictures and a lot like Yoo Joonghyuk.
“His name is Kim Dokja,” said Yoo Joonghyuk, leaving out some very crucial information.
“I’m your brother’s friend!” Kim Dokja added. “He helped me out last night when I locked myself out. Nice to meet you, Mia.”
Yoo Mia eyed him suspiciously. “Why’d you lock yourself out?”
“It was an accident.”
She was still looking doubtful when Yoo Joonghyuk got out of bed, taking the warmth beneath the covers with him.
“Did I forget to make breakfast last night?” he asked.
“Yes. Is it because you were with him ?”
Yoo Joonghyuk looked at Kim Dokja fully for the first time that morning and smiled, a soft and heart-stopping curve of his lips, made even more endearing by his half-bedhead. “Good morning, Kim Dokja.” He turned back to his sister as they headed towards the kitchen. “I was working late, but I’ll make something now. What do you want to eat?”
“Omelet! Oppa, you should break up with that ahjussi. I think he looks shady.”
Kim Dokja didn’t hear Yoo Joonghyuk’s response, but he decided he didn’t want to. Sinking back into Yoo Joonghyuk’s soft mattress, he stared at the ceiling and tried to vanquish from his mind the image of those pecs and the memory of Yoo Joonghyuk’s soothing body heat.
–
Seeing how Yoo Joonghyuk was in the kitchen, Kim Dokja finally understood why Yoo Joonghyuk had such a huge stick up his ass when it came to following lab protocol.
“Cut the green onions properly,” he commanded, the morning’s previous gentleness nowhere to be found. “Slice them all the way through, thinly.”
“Yes, your Highness.”
“Ahjussi, are you also not good at cooking? How are you going to contribute to the relationship?”
Seriously, where did this kid learn to speak like this? “My wholehearted love and adoration, and my unwavering loyalty,” he said instead. “Mia, why am I your ahjussi? I’m the same age as your brother.”
Yoo Mia shrugged her tiny shoulders from where she was perched on a seat at the kitchen island. “Ahjussi is ahjussi and oppa is oppa,” she said matter-of-factly. “Why ask something stupid like that?”
“Mia, be nice. Don’t use that word.”
“Yes, oppa.”
The omelets were heavenly, because of course Yoo Joonghyuk had maxed-out his housewife skills as well.
“Thank you for the food,” he and Yoo Mia chorused together.
Sitting at Yoo Joonghyuk’s kitchen table at an hour earlier than any time he’d voluntarily wake and getting roasted by an elementary schooler while her brother mediated with amusement, Kim Dokja felt a strange sense of home.
“Sorry about Mia,” Yoo Joonghyuk said after his sister left for school with her classmates. “She liked you.”
Kim Dokja laughed, slightly relieved. “Really? I’m glad, then. She’s a smart kid.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s face lifted in another smile, and Kim Dokja breath hitched as he realized that he had to leave fast before he fell deeper into this grave he was digging for himself.
–
That Friday, the lab experiment was to be conducted in groups of four. Though there were more hands at the lab bench, the experiment itself was much lengthier than what they were used to, and they were falling behind Yoo Joonghyuk’s strict, military-inspired schedule.
“Hurry up,” commanded Yoo Joonghyuk in his full asshole regalia as Kim Dokja, Asuka Ren, and Min Jiwon huddled around the Bunsen burner. “It’s already 3:15.”
“Shut up, Yoo Joonghyuk,” deadpanned Kim Dokja. “We’re not done until we get a signal. Stop standing around and help us.”
“He’s right,” said Min Jiwon. “At least stand here and block the interference from the window.” It had taken Kim Dokja a while to recognize her as the underclassman who’d asked Yoo Joonghyuk for help all those weeks ago, but she’d jumped ship pretty fast when she realized that his assholery wasn’t a front to hide his true self; it was just one of his many fascinating personality traits.
Yoo Joonghyuk scowled and moved so that his broad shoulders obstructed the light coming from the windows. In the green light emitting from the burning copper chloride, he looked somewhat ethereal.
Kim Dokja shook himself mentally and glared from where he was holding the salt-soaked applicator. “This isn’t working. I’ll go get more salt.”
By the time he returned, Yoo Joonghyuk had become even more antsy.
“It’s late.”
“This is our last data point, so stop pacing. Where do you need to be?”
Yoo Joonghyuk turned up the gas and struck the lighter. “I need to pick up Mia. She has taekwondo class at 4.”
“We’ll get it this time,” Asuka Ren assured him, far too kind.
Kim Dokja brought the applicator tip to the flame while Asuka Ren held the cable and Min Jiwon stared holes into the spectrophotometer. As the flame began flaring a bright, emerald green, Kim Dokja could feel that something about this run was different.
“We got a signal!” cried Min Jiwon. “It’s perfect!”
Immediately, Yoo Joonghyuk shut off the gas and started scribbling data into his notebook. “I’ll break down the setup and wash the test tubes, but then I’m going. You take care of the rest.”
Honestly, Kim Dokja hadn’t expected Yoo Joonghyuk to help them with the cleanup at all. Was this character development?
“I have a bicycle,” he told Yoo Joonghyuk. “I can take you to pick up Mia if it’ll help.”
Yoo Joonghyuk shot him an unreadable look. “I’ll follow you, then.”
At 3:30 pm, Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk shot out from the undergraduate laboratories, making their way to where Kim Dokja had his bicycle chained to a stand. He fumbled his keys into the lock, unbuckled his helmet, and shoved it unceremoniously onto Yoo Joonghyuk’s head.
“Hold on to me.”
Having Yoo Joonghyuk’s arms circled around his waist was an unfamiliar sensation. It made Kim Dokja hyper aware of every point of contact between them.
“I’m sorry,” came Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice as Kim Dokja struggled his way up a hill. “Thank you for doing this.”
“No problem. Just take it as my gratitude from the other night.”
“I told you not to thank me for that.”
“Whatever.” He was getting tired. Maybe this was a sign that he should start working out before he died of muscle atrophy.
Yoo Joonghyuk being this close to him definitely wasn’t helping, either.
“I never learned to bike,” said Yoo Joonghyuk out of the blue.
It surprised Kim Dokja. He’d always thought of his lab partner as some kind of novel protagonist, even before he’d gotten to know him. Finding out about his wolf slippers, his horrendous sleep schedule, and now his inability to bike took Yoo Joonghyuk out of the frame Kim Dokja had forced him into and brought him into the plane of existence that they both lived in.
It was unnerving.
“So there really is something you don’t know,” he said after a pause that bordered on the edge of awkwardness.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s arms tightened around his waist. “I don’t know a lot of things.”
Kim Dokja’s heart raced from the exertion, and he ignored Yoo Joonghyuk’s words, unsure for once of how to respond.
They made it over to Yoo Mia’s elementary school at 3:45, where they found her sitting in the pickup area, swinging her legs. When she recognized Yoo Joonghyuk on the back of Kim Dokja’s bike, her face lit up.
“You’re late,” she said, then turned her gaze to Kim Dokja. “Are you two not breaking up?”
“No,” said Yoo Joonghyuk. He took off his helmet and put it onto his sister’s head, tightening the chin straps as far as they would go. “Dokja is going to take you to your class. He’ll be faster than walking.”
“What about you?” she asked.
“I’ll walk over and meet you there. Be nice.”
Yoo Mia’s dark eyes met Kim Dokja’s, and he smiled. “I’m pretty good on this bike. You can trust me.”
Yoo Mia tugged on Yoo Joonghyuk’s sleeve. “Ahjussi’s smile is suspicious.”
Yoo Joonghyuk patted Mia’s helmet-clad head. “I thought so too, but it’s a nice smile. Go, don’t be late.”
She clambered onto the back of the bicycle, and with a wave to Yoo Joonghyuk, they were off.
“Please make good decisions,” Yoo Mia reminded Kim Dokja.
Seriously, kids these days.
“Don’t worry, I’ll do my best. If anything were to happen even near you, your brother wouldn’t let me live another day.”
Yoo Mia was uncharacteristically quiet. “...but then he would be sad.”
“Why would he be sad?”
He felt her grip on the back of his shirt tighten. “He’s happiest when he talks about you.”
Her words struck Kim Dokja like a hammer blow. As his heart twisted his lungs until he had to struggle to breathe, he felt indescribably, inexplicably light.
–
Yoo Joonghyuk invited Kim Dokja over for dinner that night. Of course, having been sent to heaven once by Yoo Joonghyuk’s cooking, Kim Dokja physically couldn’t decline.
After an hour of Yoo Joonghyuk nitpicking Kim Dokja’s perfectly passable food preparation techniques with an insufferable masterchef attitude (“There are eggshells in this.” “Oh, that’s what those were! I thought it was your dandruff.” “That doesn’t even make sense.” “Use your imagination, Yoo Joonghyuk.”), the dining table was laden with a spread of mouthwatering dishes.
“Thank you for the food,” chorused Kim Dokja and Yoo Mia, and when he dug in, Kim Dokja nearly ascended right there and then. He swore to value Yoo Joonghyuk’s companionship for as long as he lived.
“You eat like an animal.”
Or, for the rest of the hour.
“It’s a testament to your personality,” Kim Dokja replied. “You are who you spend time with.”
“But you’re a squid.”
“And you’re a sunfish. Have you ever heard of “SSSSS-Grade Infinite Regressor?”
“No.”
“Your loss. The main character is a lot like you, actually. Brooding, unnecessarily controlling, and a little bit chuuni.”
“...I’m not any of those things.”
“It’s okay, Joonghyuk-ah. Self awareness is a skill that must be trained.”
“You’re the one who needs training. Learn to keep your mouth shut and eat your food.”
“No one can do those things simultaneously, Yoo Joonghyuk. How about you try it, since you’re such an expert?”
Just then, Yoo Mia, who had been chewing her dinner in silence, stabbed her fork into her plateful of stir fry. “You two flirt like grade schoolers.”
Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk immediately fell silent.
–
“Kim Dokja.”
They were sitting side-by-side on the couch after getting Yoo Mia to bed, shoulders brushing when one of them shifted slightly. Kim Dokja scrolled through his phone, trying to ignore how Yoo Joonghyuk watched him with silent warmth in his eyes.
“Kim Dokja,” said Yoo Joonghyuk again.
Something in his tone made Kim Dokja pause. “Hm?”
There was a long silence as Yoo Joonghyuk seemed to gather his thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about the end of this semester.”
Distantly, Kim Dokja felt himself go cold.
It was to be expected. The thought had been eating away at Kim Dokja’s mind since the morning after he’d stayed the night earlier that week, and its roots only grew with every deepening interaction he had with Yoo Joonghyuk. After all, good dreams always faded in the morning.
Kim Dokja shifted to the side, putting a chasm of space between them. He tried for nonchalance. “The semester passed pretty quickly, didn’t it?”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes were steel. “Next semester. Will you be here?”
Kim Dokja hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll be graduating afterwards. You?”
“This semester is my last. I’m graduating early.”
“I see.” He’d heard the rumors, so it didn’t come as a complete surprise. It was alright. “Then, I wish you luck.”
He’d always been good at letting things go.
Yoo Joonghyuk was staring at him. “Is that all?”
Kim Dokja blinked. “Congratulations? Happy graduation?”
Yoo Joonghyuk pursed his lips. In one fluid motion, he moved closer to Kim Dokja and cupped his cheek in a gentle, warm hand. “You’re such a fool.”
His words had no edge, and his tone was tender. Kim Dokja couldn’t help the way his face began to flush.
“I don’t know what you mean.” But he did. He really thought he did, and he didn’t know what to make of it beyond complete disbelief.
“Then I’ll say it myself,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, gripping Kim Dokja’s arm loosely with his other hand, as if to stop him from running away. “I want to see you again, Kim Dokja.”
His blood was pounding in his ears, and each breath burned in his lungs. “I – me too,” he breathed. “I don’t want you to leave.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s smile was radiant. “Then date me. I like you.”
Shit, why did he phrase even this like a demand? But Kim Dokja was already matching Yoo Joonghyuk’s smile, and as his heart sprouted wings, he found himself saying, “I really like you, too.”
–
EXTRA 1
Uriel sidled up to her favorite TA with an innocent smile plastered on her face. “So, how goes the project?”
With any other professor, Jung Heewon would have launched into a well-rehearsed overview of her independent research. Because it was Uriel though, she just heaved a sigh. “They’re both idiots. I have no idea how either of them even made it this far.”
They both looked over to what Uriel had dubbed ‘The Joongdok Workbench,’ where Yoo Joonghyuk was supervising Kim Dokja as he scraped solid precipitate into a weighing pan. Yoo Joonghyuk said something, Kim Dokja retaliated by elbowing him, Yoo Joonghyuk caught Kim Dokja’s arm before it could make contact, and they then spent an inordinate amount of time staring intensely into each other’s eyes.
Uriel swooned. “They’re perfect. ”
Jung Heewon frowned. “They’re going to lose their product.”
And sure enough, when Kim Dokja made a sudden move to pull away, face flushed in embarrassment, he flipped the weighing pan and their extracted copper product spilled across the counter.
“Can you fail them?” asked Jung Heewon.
Uriel considered it for a concerning stretch of time. “I’ll see if I can get away with it. I’d love to have them for another year.”
–
EXTRA 2
Against all odds, waking up had now become Kim Dokja’s favorite part of the weekends.
“Kim Dokja. Where do you think you’re touching.”
Pleasant morning sunlight streamed into the room through half-drawn curtains, bringing with it life and light, and perfectly illuminating Yoo Joonghyuk’s glorious pecs.
“Something that means a lot to me,” said Kim Dokja. He took a handful and squeezed.
Life was good.