Work Text:
Kim Dokja isn’t entirely sure how it happened.
They – him, Yoo Joonghyuk, Han Sooyoung, and other delegates of their strange, heterogenous friend group – had been walking along a forest trail, enjoying the warm spring sunshine.
Yoo Joonghyuk had made an asinine comment, so Kim Dokja fell back to bicker with him about it. When they’d finally finished (Yoo Joonghyuk looking as if he was one insult away from strangling Kim Dokja), everyone else had disappeared, leaving them at a junction between two crossroads. Kim Dokja had chosen the left one (“It’s good to be spontaneous sometimes, Joonghyuk-ah. Besides, if they’re not there, we can just circle back.”), became confused from the numerous smaller trails that sprawled from the main one, and wandered around for thirty minutes before declaring them lost.
Through it all, Yoo Joonghyuk’s expression shifted from mild annoyance, to sadistic smugness, to annoyance once again. Finally, after Kim Dokja had dragged him around fruitlessly for forty minutes, he abandoned any intentions of helping and now stood, or rather scowled, amongst the cheerful yellow-and-white dandelion puffs, ominously draped in all-black like an angry cumulonimbus cloud.
An hour passed. Kim Dokja, exhausted from his searches and half-baked from the sun, staggered over to Yoo Joonghyuk.
“It’s hopeless,” he admitted. “I have no idea where we are, and I left my phone with Yoo Sangah at the last checkpoint.”
Kim Dokja would’ve adopted a more cheerful tone to piss Yoo Joonghyuk off, but the sweat sticking his t-shirt to his skin was making him miserable. Besides, testing the limits of Yoo Joonghyuk’s self-control in an isolated field far from civilization would be fool-hardy, even for him.
Yoo Joonghyuk glared at him. “Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
There was a pause of silence. Yoo Joonghyuk was still standing there, his expression caught between something that looked like misery and annoyance. Despite the stifling heat, he had a black jacket layered over an even darker t-shirt, an impressive attempt at cosplaying a black hole.
“You know, you’ll probably get heat stroke like this.”
“I don’t care.”
“That’s good. In case we’re not found in time, having such a plentiful food source will allow me to sustain myself for at least three weeks.”
“Shut up, Kim Dokja.”
Yoo Joonghyuk pinched his nose, clearly at his limit for Kim Dokja’s Bullshit of the Day. On the other hand, Kim Dokja was beginning to enjoy himself hugely, the schadenfreude from Yoo Joonghyuk suffering in the sun outweighing the sweltering heat.
“The dandelions are really flourishing here,” he observed, bending down to pick at one. “You know, if you make a wish on one, it might come true.”
Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t respond, clearly deigning the interaction as below him. Kim Dokja continued, undeterred. “I don’t know what I would wish for, though. Better webnovels? A nicer editor? More money?”
He glanced behind him. “Hey, Yoo Joonghyuk. What would you wish for?”
“Shut up.”
“No, really. What would you wish for?”
Yoo Joonghyuk looked at him, his stare impassive. He really did look ridiculous, standing in a field of dandelions, a light sheen of sweat betraying the discomfort of his outfit.
Suddenly, Yoo Joonghyuk knelt down, his gaze scanning over the sea of dandelions. There was a strangely gentle look in his eyes, as if all his previous annoyance had vanished under the sweet, hypnotising sways of yellow and white.
If only he looked like this all the time, Kim Dokja mourned. There really was too much lost potential with Yoo Joonghyuk’s constant scowls; it practically halved his handsomeness.
Carefully, Yoo Joonghyuk reached out and brushed the top of an aged dandelion, a few seeds sprinkling away from his touch. His brows were slightly furrowed, as if he were truly thinking of a wish he had yet to fulfil.
Around them, the breeze drifted to a stop, and the birds quieted their chatter. It was as if the world had stilled, and was just as curious to hear what Yoo Joonghyuk had to say.
Yoo Joonghyuk stared at the dandelion for a beat longer. His gaze deepened – his lips twitched – finally, he opened his mouth, and Kim Dokja leaned forwards, strangely eager to hear his words –
“I wish you would shut up.”