Work Text:
“Fuck have you seen my phone anywhere?”
Yoo Joonghyuk looks up from his monitor, blinking slowly. “No. I have not.”
Kim Dokja huffs. “Well can you help me find it?” he asks, flipping over the bean bag he was sitting on to check underneath. He clicks his tongue annoyingly when he finds nothing there.
“Find it yourself.”
“Oh my god . Please,” he adds, as sincerely as he can, which is really not much, but it’s Yoo Joonghyuk he’s talking to. Who can blame him?
“I’m working.”
“You’re playing video games!”
“Which is my job .”
“Fuck you,” Kim Dokja replies with feeling. He even flips him off for added effect. “Just help me find my phone and I’ll get out of your hair.” this is a lie; Kim Dokja will never pass up any and all opportunities to pester his roommate/crush/best friend as much as physically possible.
“Fine.” Kim Dokja looks up at Yoo Joonghyuk and sees the man glance to the right for 2 seconds, then the left for another 2 seconds, then back at Kim Dokja. “I can’t find it,” he says, monotone, as dry as his life. Kim Dokja might just kill him.
“Fucking asshole,” Kim Dokja spits. He gets down on his knees to peek under the bookshelf at the far wall in Joonghyuk’s office. When he doesn’t find anything there, he tries checking under the boring black couch in the middle of the room, grumbling curses all the way:
“Can’t ask for a simple stupid favour with you, can I? If you’d just get off your lazy bum for 3 seconds I wouldn’t have to be pawing at the carpet like a fucking dog , but no , Yoo Joonghyuk, mighty pro-gamer, is just far too preoccupied with his dumb shitty work . Work my fucking ass….”
Yoo Joonghuk lets out a heavy sigh and looks up at the ceiling with closed eyes, his mouth moving as if he’s praying for patience. He looks back at Dokja with severely annoyed eyes. His roommate just rolls his eyes and goes back to searching the ground. His mouth, however, doesn’t stop moving. In fact, it seems to be spitting out more words at twice his normal speed.
“And then he just stares at me like I’m the nuisance. Me! I’m a fucking delight, fuck you very much. Stupid, entitled gamers. It’s a wonder how they get laid at all, what with their horribly dreadful personalities.” His finger gets cut on an ill-placed splinter in the fluffy carpet and he hisses, irritation steadily growing faster. “It’s a wonder what Seolwha, sweet beautiful Seolwha, ever saw in a beast like him. Thank goodness for her that they broke up. Good riddance. Watch me ever , and I mean ever , do something nice for you again, you stupid piece of shit.”
“ Kim Dokja .”
“Now he’s snapping at me like I created this bullshit.” Dokja sucks on his injured finger and glares at Yoo Joonghyuk who stares at him back with daggers. “Hoe.”
“Sometimes, I wish you died during childbirth.”
“Sometimes, I wish your eyes weren’t so disgustingly disproportional, but I guess we can’t have everything we want,” Dokja shrugs, Joonghyuk’s insult falling off him easily. They’ve lived together for close to 4 years now and even though they’ve gotten over their tumultuous-hateful-bitter-mutinous relationship kickstarted from a rather horrible meet-ugly (including the desecration of some lovely dumplings) during the first few months of living together, hating on each other(with love) has always come easier to them.
Yoo Joonghyuk turns back to his monitor and clicks something to turn it off. He then walks over to Kim Dokja’s rather pitiful appearance on the ground, his own phone in hand. “Give me your hand.”
“What? No.”
“You’re injured.”
“I was scratched.”
“Let me see.”
“No, you fucking perveted wierdo. You’re not seeing my hands what the hell.”
“For the love of– no, never mind. Rot in hell. Die, actually. I hope that gets infected,” he says but stays in place, clicking obnoxiously on his phone. “I’m calling your number.”
“My phone’s on dnd.”
“Why? It’s not as if anyone ever talks to you.”
Dokja snorts. “ You’re one to fucking talk. You only have like 7 saved contacts. One of which is your therapist and the restaurant across the street we order from.”
“Keep quiet,” Joonghyuk says mildly. “Is it on the thing?”
“Huh?”
“The buzz thing.”
“You mean vibrate?”
“Sure.”
“Yes, Joonghyuk-ssi, my phone is on the buzz thing. Any other intelligence you’d like to ask?”
Joonghyuk glares at him. “Quiet,” he hisses. “I think I hear it.”
“Wait, really? Where?” Dokja starts flipping his head around the room wildly.
“ Silence .”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”
Yoo Joonghyuk ignores him and starts padding quietly around, his arms crossed and his legs flexing attractively from the view his shorts are providing. Kim Dokja stares a bit, but he doesn’t think anyone can really blame him. Yoo Joonghyuk? In shorts ? Parading (not really) around in front of him? This may as well be the first coming of messiah. Hallelujah.
The man circles the length of the room twice, the atmosphere set in stony silence, until he stops at a particular hidden area on their bookshelf and pauses. He frowns minutely and leans his head closer to where the presumed buzzing is. After a moment, his hands dig around the shelf until he pulls out Kim Dokja’s phone, very obvious smugness on his face.
“Found it.” Yoo Joonghyuk then looks at the screen of the phone and frowns, triumph sliding into confusion. “What does L-O-M-L mean, and why is that what I'm saved as?”
Kim Dokja’s breath stutters, but he doesn’t know whether or not he’s going to burst out laughing or into hysterical tears.
“What.”
“I’m saved as this word.” Yoo Joonghyuk turns the phone towards him and kim dokja is met with a contact name he’s quite familiar with, loml, with a black and white heart accompanying it. “What does it mean?”
“Um.” How does he answer this without incriminating himself?
“Is this a new insult I’m not aware of?”
“Uhh.”
“It would be nice if you spoke in complete sentences.”
Kim Dokja throws a scathing glare his way and stands up to swipe his phone away from his roommate’s ridiculously large hand. Yoo Joonghyuk, however, uses the few inches he has on him and extends the phone out of reach.
“Stop being an asshole,” he gripes, but doesn’t try to embarrass himself by jumping up to try and retrieve the phone.
“Explain.”
“Explain what?” Kim Dokja stresses. “It’s an acronym for fuck’s sake. Do you want to persecute me?”
“What does it stand for.”
“Figure it out yourself,” he grumbles, a humiliated flush sticking to his skin like sugar.
“I want you to tell me.”
“Oh, Jesus.” Kim Dokja stomps over to Yoo Joonghyuk’s dark monitor and spends an undisclosed amount of time trying to put it on. Once it is on, he clicks on a browser, then closes his eyes as he says, “Just search it up, fuck, this is so embarrassing.”
Kim Dokja’s eyes remain firmly shut even as he hears Yoo Joonghyuk walk up to the desk slowly, even as he hears the low clicking of the keyboard, and even as he feels Yoo Joonghyuk’s sharp exhale of breath across the back of his neck when he hits search and reads Kim Dokja’s horrible, mortifying crush as clear as day.
For a blissful, beautiful moment, there is complete silence. In fact, this silence stretches on for so long that Kim Dokja starts to believe that this is all some horrible nightmare and that in a few minutes, he’ll wake up and not have to be bombarded with the experience of his painful, year-long pining being exposed to possibly the most obliviously dense man he’s ever had the misfortune of meeting.
“Kim Dokja,” he says, voice strained. “Look at me.”
Ah, of course. To be expected. Kim Dokja will never be that lucky.
“Absolutely not. I’d rather die first. Maybe, maybe, I should actually die. Like right now. That would be preferable. Or perhaps I could become one with the ground and live in the floorboards forever. D’you think the rats and termites would fancy having a new roommate? Or maybe–”
“For fuck’s sake,” Yoo Joonghyuk grumbles just before there’s the distinctive feeling of lips overlapping his own in a chaste, barely there kiss before it disappears.
Kim Dokja’s eyes fly open in shock.
“Did you– you just–”
His trembling fingers come to rest lightly on his lips. They feel tingly, somehow; he thinks he can still feel the pressure of Joonghyuk’s lips on his own, the taste of them, if he thinks hard enough; jasmine and something else. He’ll need to try it again to figure out the other thing. Yeah. Totally. He needs to try again, to be honest. For science.
“I like you.”
Kim Dokja rears back. His eyes must be the size of saucers. “You– what? ”
“You heard me.”
“I did,” Kim Dokja replies, his senses returning slowly. His heart is beating wildly, the flapping in his chest so full of hope. “I want to hear them again.”
Yoo Joonghyuk blinks and he licks his lip, eyes flickering. Kim Dokja’s eyes zero in on his mouth, completely transfixed. “I like you.”
“So you kissed me.” He throws the words in the air, just to feel the taste of them on his tongue. It feels warm. Sweet, even.
Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t respond. He doesn’t nod or shake his head. He just stares and stares and stares until Kim Dokja can’t take it anymore and throws his arms around his roommate's neck, dragging him forcefully down until they’re kissing.
It’s not a very innocent kiss, or even a particularly nice one seeing as Yoo Joonghyuk seems to be figuring out the best way to maul his face off, but Kim Dokja thinks it may be the best kiss he’s ever had before in his life.
After an eternity, a breath, a lifetime, they slowly part, harsh breaths sounding out in the room.
“We are dating now,” Yoo Joonghyuk says abruptly. Kim Dokja blinks once, twice, and then bursts out laughing.
“What, you’re not even going to ask me out?”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyebrows furrow. “Go out with me.”
“I said ask , Joonghyuk-ah,” he says between snickers. “Not demand . Sweet lord. I like you so much.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes soften, going butter-soft, and he presses a kiss to Kim Dokja’s forehead. “Be my boyfriend?”
Kim Dokja grins at him. “Of course I will, you goat.”
“Good.” Yoo Joonghyuk presses another kiss to his nose. “And Dokja?”
“Hm?”
“You’re the L-O-M-L too.”
Kim Dokja’s cheeks flush with mirth and he laughs loudly, lovingly, then awards the love of his life with a kiss that’ll hopefully last forever.