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Kim Dokja walked because it was the only thing he could do that he deemed, that the others had deemed, acceptable.
He walked til his heels were chafed from his sandles, soles worn off against rough concrete. He walked til his tears had dried, and his cheeks tickled from the aftermath of some not-so-ideal hurricane of thoughts.
Said thoughts hadn't quelled much. Quelled as much as they could, over the course of some five to six kilometer path. In the ink black sky of the night, he'd long forgotten the route back to the hospital. It didn't bother him much, so long as he could walk some more, walk till he stopped thinking entirely, and maybe he could finally go to sleep.
Months of physical therapy did little progress to leg muscles that had been rotting away for millions of years. He carried himself, his body weight, mostly with the faint remnants of his status as the Demon King. If one squinted close enough, they could see the shimmering outlines of deteriorating jet-back wings, and dull edges of horns at his head.
Even so, he let his wings grow weak every now and then, to feel the stinging pain of his calves and thighs, to wince and strain against his knees. It was his punishment he decided, for being stupid. Thinking stupid things. Doing something like this.
Like, walk. This far. So no one could ever find him.
Han Sooyoung won't be happy, he thought. None of them would.
It wasn't his intention to leave forever, but he didn't know what else to do than keep walking.
They would miss him, they shouldn't miss him. They won't miss him, because this has happened time and time again, over the scenarios, and they should be fed up with him, by now.
He was a horrible person. For deeming their care for him as fake, for thinking any less of their thoughts and feelings. They were real, they loved him. And so denying such things would be a disservice to them. He was being unreasonable. Irritating. Frustrating.
And so he was horrible. Far beyond it. So many times had his companions gone through hell and back for his sake, how could he be so stubborn?
It simply didn't make sense. It didn't make sense.
Why care for someone like him, why him. Pity, is the answer. They are all kind, gentle people. They pity when faced with someone who should be sympathised with. Much like how a child would want to take in a hurt puppy on the street or get it some help, they pity him because he is this, disgusting, revolting, creature that needs help.
...
...
Kim dokja walked. Stopped at a traffic junction. Traffic rules were to be abided, even in such a state. He wasn't trying anything brash, he was simply walking.
A car pulled over. The door opened with a loud thump, a short shadow throttling him at top speed.
Han Sooyoung's eyes were wide open, scanning his body for any injuries. His hospital gown was neatly intact, apart from his worn down slippers. She gripped him with so much force his shoulders hurt, and in that moment, it made sense to him that she would care, and she would be worried. It was because he could see the proof all over her face, in front of him. Strange. He didn't feel the same as he did just two minutes ago anymore.
Han Sooyoung shook him lightly, voice urgent yet careful to not be raised too much. Out from the driver's door came Yoo Joonghyuk. He walked over with firm, quick steps, and pulled Kim Dokja into a hug.
A hug.
Ah, ah. This...
Kim Dokja... What was Kim Dokja doing here?
Han Sooyoung grew alarmed at the tears pouring out of his already red and puffy eyes. She pulled out a packet of tissue to pinch over his nose and asked him to blow. Kim Dokja's arms were uselessly dangling by his sides, but it didn't matter much to her, nor Yoo Joonghyuk, who pulled him into another suffocating embrace.
He wasn't supposed to be here. Kim Dokja, who caused so much trouble, who walked away from his hospital bed into the empty dead of the night, wasn't supposed to be here. In this place, where it was warm, and soft, and full of things he wanted.
His voice was a garbled mess, but he tried to tell them that he loved them. He then spoke another ten times, about how sorry he was. He was sorry for many different things, and he tried to address them all.
The times he left them alone, the times he made promises he couldn't keep. The six something kilometers he walked, walked to try and disappear. None of those things were processed into words. They simply came out as the same phrase, one after another. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
I love you, he added again. It was the truth. His eyes welled up again, because he loved too much, he was scared he would be left alone.
I love you too, Han Sooyoung, then Yoo Joonghyuk, spoke. He couldn't hear their words past that point. Only his own, wavering, sobbing, crying.
He wanted to go home.
Please bring me home, he asked.
And of course, they said yes.