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Yoo Joonghyuk was never a guy of many words. He is not the type of guy who would be made up of neatly stacked letters arranged to fabricate meaningful definitions. People once told him they liked him quiet, just drawing breath every now and then—opinions kept lying under the comfort of his tongue—and he did not take them to heart. He likes his solitude sheltered, so their inclination toward that side of him was fine, if not thoroughly accurate. It was a known fact to him anyway: that talking meant holding himself accountable for whatever came out of his mouth. Which is the very reason someone else was assembling his thoughts for him. He wasn’t meant to speak; Kim Dokja was.
That guy knew him forever; he’d known him since he was a child, from the beginning of his sanity until the end of it. He was standing still, both hands flatly resting on the expense of his back, waiting for the perfect moment to catch him once he was faced with a setback too big to handle on his own. Kim Dokja was like that. And Yoo Joonghyuk got used with the guy standing beside him, behind him, and in front of him, depending on the situation he was in.
His arms were stronger than his, exterior much tougher than his looks, and yet he still needed Kim Dokja to hold his hand and guide him through any path he wanted to take. Yoo Joonghyuk could have sworn he wasn’t like this before, but he could not promise that he wanted to look back on his situation before him . Not after knowing that any moment with Kim Dokja was blithe, drowned not with dread but with something else entirely.
Yoo Joonghyuk looked up slowly, the wind tenderly ruffling his hair. Kim Dokja is sitting across him, his usual white uniform tucked nicely inside his black slacks. The sun is painting his features vividly, similar to those of warm saffron gently dabbed on pale skin. With his mouth kept to himself—the space between them not filled with his voice and the unnecessary chatter he never seems to tire of—he actually appears to be more irreproachable. Yoo Joonghyuk once wished he would be this quiet, but now that he is, he suddenly craves the sound of his voice. He wanted him to talk, to immerse himself in his melody suffused in the air. Blown away for only Yoo Joonghyuk to hear.
However, it seems like Kim Dokja had no plans to break the silence any sooner, and anticipation is quickly piling up on Yoo Joonghyuk. So, left with only his desire to talk, he broke the silence.
“Kim Dokja.”
Despite his clear voice cutting through thin air, the said man did not respond. He was busy watching the flowers on the gray pavement sway a bit when the breeze hit. Yoo Joonghyuk then tried again, now directly stating what’s been on his mind for days.
“They keep on asking me about you,” he slowly says, his eyes directly staring at Kim Dokja’s even though his were focused on something else.
“What of it?”
One of the petals came off as the wind blew harder, and Kim Dokja only watched as it flew away. Once the petal was out of sight, he looked back at Yoo Joonghyuk with his eyes a little moist. Yoo Joonghyuk quickly notices it and is about to stand up to sit next to him, but Kim Dokja was faster to raise his hand in objection.
“You’re my best friend, of course they’d ask you about me,” he says, placid. Yoo Joonghyuk could not find the right reply to his statement and remained quiet.
Kim Dokja closed his eyes, but the mild stinging did not immediately stop. Yoo Joonghyuk found that timing to be just right and walked up to his seat. He stopped in front of him, set down the flowers he bought on the latter’s lap, and placed both his thumbs on each of Kim Dokja’s eyelids before gently rubbing them.
“I told you it’s too windy here. Why do you always choose this spot?”
Kim Dokja wearily sighed, his shoulders slowly slumping down as he let himself be comfortable in Yoo Joonghyuk’s presence. The two of them quickly went non-verbal as Kim Dokja decided once again to not mind Yoo Joonghyuk’s question. The latter didn’t seem to mind, though; his attention focused solely on Kim Dokja and his eyes.
It took some time for the strain to dull out, but it did feel nice to keep Yoo Joonghyuk close to him, so he didn’t feel the need to complain.
When Yoo Joongyuk sensed that Kim Dokja was most probably already fine, he gently removed his fingers and sat next to him.
“You somehow always forget,” Kim Dokja mumbles, an answer to the overlooked question Yoo Joonghyuk seemingly already abandoned. Kim Dokja stared at the pavement, the grassy lawn next to it, and then Yoo Joonghyuk.
He did not expect to find him already staring at him, which induced a short-lived panic in his system. He averts his gaze and looks back at the ground, both hands resting on his knees, and thought of anything he could possibly talk about.
“Anyways, Han Sooyoung told me about what happened earlier. I didn’t think you’d be meaner and meaner as day goes on,” he chuckles, eyelashes fluttering as his voice starts to choke up a little. Yoo Joonghyuk knew him better and let him wallow in his own thoughts for a while before responding.
“I’m not mean. I just told them what I thought of it,” he retorts, sounding a little wary before adding, “and you. Did you respond to Han Sooyoung?”
Kim Dokja’s tiny smile slowly vanished at the mention of her name, reminding Yoo Joonghyuk of the possible outcomes this conversation might end up in. But to his surprise, Kim Dokja dismissed the question with a little grin, voice sounding a bit uptight, and whispered, “I wish.”
Yoo Joonghyuk let out a long exhale, his eyelids heavy, as he pulled his gaze away from the man beside him.
“You really should come back,” he says, his voice laced with indescribable optimism. Even though Kim Dokja wants to feed into the sanguinity (that he rarely ever sees the other man entertaining), he knew he could not. Hope is a free will he is now deprived of. And not even Yoo Joonghyuk’s sudden optimism can grant him access to it.
“You know I can’t,” Kim Dokja says with an air of finality. Yoo Joonghyuk wanted to retaliate, ‘There must be a way’ , but Kim Dokja was quick to add, “And stop bending the topic back to me, will you? Tell me the whole thing that happened in class.”
Yoo Joonghyuk only stares, but after Kim Dokja snaps his fingers twice, he decides to just give the guy what he wants.
“They… they were assuming things about you,” he starts, tone heavier than usual.
He watched Kim Dokja’s reaction; however, it never surfaced. His eyes are a bit spiritless; they look like they are detached from reality. Yoo Joonghyuk continued filling the silence with bits of information aside from the ones he already knew, letting the former’s consciousness wander away from him. It wasn’t always like this; there were days when he would be fine, but Yoo Joonghyuk eventually learned to act in accordance with Kim Dokja’s whims. He was afraid that if anything unexpected were to suddenly happen, Kim Dokja would disappear again. He can’t risk it.
He averted his attention from Kim Dokja’s face to the side of their knees touching, memories suddenly rushing back into his head.
Yoo Joonghyuk is a level-headed person, even in the most conspicuously vile situations. He’d be standing on the boundary of fight or flight, just observing for when he would act if things got worse. That instinct went on for so long that he could no longer see himself positioned over one side, defending it with his own hands. He liked playing safe, especially with Kim Dokja pulling the same mechanism as he does. However, there are times where Kim Dokja would bet on a side he really wanted to fight for (and win). When those moments played out, Yoo Joonghyuk would just pray he wouldn’t lose and dive right in the same pool Kim Dokja jumped in. Whether Yoo Joonghyuk admits it or not, Kim Dokja was his moral compass.
So it was quite a shock when Kim Dokja was no longer by his side to tell him where to stand. Even more so when he was faced with a situation wherein he had to defend the same person he once fought side by side with.
It wasn’t a clever move; even the reckless Han Sooyoung would agree. But Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t know his patience could run so thin when it came to Kim Dokja. The latter always pushes him to the limits of his goodness, but nothing quite like insults directed at him has ever cut the line between rationale and aggression that he has always been so good at separating.
Their words rang in his head. Once again, taking control of his senses.
“At this point, I wouldn’t even be surprised if he’s faking it.”
No. He’s not.
“I mean, he was able to pull that stunt, saying he just came back from a mental asylum, right? Didn’t think it’d be a lie.”
It wasn’t a lie. He really was admitted to a mental hospital, you just did not give enough fucks to know the truth.
“Didn’t he say it’s better to just die than to ever come back to this school? Well, he wasn’t kidding. Even I wouldn’t come back if I could just die, you know?”
“He did not say that.”
They are just like that, stop.
“I know you have a small mental capacity, so just use it for actual useful things. Gossiping will not help you.”
Don’t indulge them.
“The fuck are you talking about, now? Who the hell are you?”
“Keep Dokja out of your meaningless conversations.”
“Oh… I see. You’re that guy who always chases after him like some dog, aren’t you?”
Stop it, Yoo Joonghyuk.
“Hah! I wouldn’t be surprised if you suddenly decided to jump off a roof too! After all, you guys share the same brain. Like some freaks!”
Stop.
“So? Why not just die too? Like your boyfriend?”
“Huh, Yoo Joonghyuk? Can’t say anything?”
“Yoo Joonghyuk?”
“Yoo Joonghyuk.”
Kim Dokja’s face quickly enters Yoo Joonghyuk’s vision, his eyes drooping with worry. He doesn’t seem too curious as to what’s actually going on in Yoo Joonghyuk’s mind, and that was exactly what Yoo Joonghyuk was hoping for.
The former sighs, his breath seemingly unlimited, as he draws another one before Yoo Joonghyuk focuses his gaze on him. It was fleeting, but Yoo Joonghyuk saw the way Kim Dokja looked at him. Steadfast, undisturbed, fervent .
“So, you punched him?” he asks, his eyes now trained on the grass beneath their feet.
Yoo Joonghyuk really did not want to respond to that. It was obvious; Kim Dokja just wanted to talk about anything but this whole situation between them. He also wants to forget it and pretend that everything is just as usual, as if he wasn’t talking to a guy who should’ve been six feet underground by now. But unlike his usual whims, ones he used to pull when he was still alive, this one is a little bit different. It’s like a game Yoo Joonghyuk was terrified to play every time. It’s scary to show up at his grave one afternoon, hoping that he would be there, but there would be no Kim Dokja sitting or playing with the flowers he left the last time. Those times, he would wonder whether he’s gone forever or just too tired to show up. And until now, he’s been unaware of where he goes to when he doesn’t appear.
“You’re zoning out again,” Kim Dokja points out, his brows furrowing just a little.
“How long?” Yoo Joonghyuk asks, his voice unsteady, unlike usual. Kim Dokja looks lost, but after seeing the reaction on the former’s face, he immediately pieced the puzzle together. He averts his gaze, partly because he can’t handle the intensity of the emotions in his eyes, and partly due to the lack of an answer he has for his question.
Instead, Kim Dokja feigns ignorance as he replies, “I don’t get it. Use your words, you will be needing them a lot now.”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Kim Dokja.”
“Well, no, Yoo Joonghyuk. Just because I always do the talking for you doesn’t mean I know what’s going on in your–”
“How long are you going to be here?”
Kim Dokja felt his throat constrict, like there was something stuck inside preventing him from breathing.
“When are you leaving? Why am I the only one who can touch you, and talk to you, and do all of this?”
Yoo Joonghyuk paused for breath, his body turning towards Kim Dokja to properly face him.
With a voice he did not know could tremble, he asks:
“Why do you seem so alive?”
Kim Dokja was speechless. After cultivating his mouth to say exactly what he feels, he still found himself at a loss for words. Yoo Joonghyuk can say this much? Since when?
“I don’t know, Joonghyuk…”
“You don’t know?”
“I’m confused too. You know I did not plan to meet you again and have you punch me square in the face after dying. You…”
Kim Dokja’s face softened, his lips curling into a bitter smile. When he jumped from that building—heart heavy with the burden he denied Yoo Joonghyuk of knowing—he was sure he’d never see him again. It was a relief to think that he would not be put under the weight of whatever came after doing this. He was afraid of surviving, walking on unsteady ground again but now with the sin of doing what he promised himself not to do. And yet here he is again: not quite alive, but existing.
“I thought it was an unfunny joke, but when I saw you again… I felt relieved. You were always by my side, so I was a bit uneasy when I woke up and suddenly you’re no longer here. I’m sorry that you’re caught up in this mess, Yoo Joonghyuk, really,” he says, his head hanging low.
Kim Dokja bit the inside of his lip, his eyes starting to water as he crumpled the fabric of his slacks. Yoo Joonghyuk only watched: watched as Kim Dokja’s shoulders slowly bent down, his knees closing the gap between his legs. He only watched as Kim Dokja started to tear up by himself.
Not because he did not care, nor because he was mad. It was quite the opposite.
Kim Dokja is sitting next to him. Eyes staring, mouth telling—breathing.
As if him being physically available is not enough of a provocation from whoever’s trying to mess with them.
Yoo Joonghyuk shuts his eyes, and when he opens them, Kim Dokja is no longer facing the ground. He is looking right back at him, his features drowned in the dazzling beam of the sun.
And there, it hits him. The reason behind his inscrutable attachment to the deceased man. The answer to the nightmare that visits his dreams every single night without fail.
Kim Dokja looks alive.
With the sunlight directly shining towards him, the golden rays of the late afternoon bounced on each strand of his hair, enveloping his skin with a dazzling warm light.
Just like that, it’s easier to pretend he’s still the same Kim Dokja before that day happened. When he looks warm like this, he appears more humane. Like the blood that splashed on the ground was still flowing in his veins.
“You’re still Kim Dokja, are you?”
Yoo Joonghyuk could not help but ask, just to be sure. To keep himself sane.
“I’m still Kim Dokja.”
The whistling of the wind filled the silence between them; it’s coldness reminded Yoo Joonghyuk of the time. He glances at the sky, the clear skies providing the sun with no place to hide. It’s late.
“You should go home,” Kim Dokja says, standing up to stretch. He pulls his body apart, his limbs extending as if he still needed them to stay in good condition.
Reluctant, Yoo Joonghyuk stands up as well. He grips the strap of his bag, his facial features tighter than usual.
“Will you be here tomorrow?”
Kim Dokja’s eyes narrowed as he smiled. The smile that Yoo Joonghyuk used to witness every time he’d give him the homemade dishes he would cook in boredom.
“Of course, Yoo Joonghyuk. Same time, same spot.”
Yoo Joonghyuk gently nodded, his eyes still unable to leave Kim Dokja’s own. Kim Dokja only gave him a reassuring glance and turned his back to him. He watches until he tires, then shuffling footsteps are heard leaving the pavement where Kim Dokja is lying.
His eyes are looking straight to the path where he must go, but his gut tells him to look back, to look again. So he did. And Kim Dokja was no longer there; the flowers Yoo Joonghyuk bought replaced the spot where he sat.
Yoo Joonghyuk did not speak, nor did he walk back.
With the sun’s radiance fading, he left Kim Dokja’s grave.