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1.
Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk were standing in line at the convenience store. From his periphery, Kim Dokja saw Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes home in on the last tin of fruit-flavored mints at the cashier’s counter, and because he made it his life goal to give handsome people a hard time since they had it so easy in this wretched society, he snatched up the tin last-minute and added it to his purchase of nearly-expired kimbap and his daily lethal dose of caffeine.
“Thank you for choosing Star Stream’s Eden Mart!” chirped the cashier as she scanned his items. Her name tag read ‘Uriel’ in bright, highlighter-yellow font that was nearly impossible to read against the plastic’s white backdrop. “That’ll be,” and she named a price that was far greater than the value of the two coins currently in Kim Dokja’s pathetic excuse of a wallet.
“I don’t have that,” said Kim Dokja dejectedly.
“That’s alright!” smiled Uriel. “You can just pay the difference with your body.”
“Okay,” said Kim Dokja like he did this every day. He bagged his items and jumped the counter, gently nudging Uriel out of the way as he put on her Eden Mart cap and turned to face the next customer in line with a practiced customer service smile plastered on his face. “Thank you for choosing Eden Mart!”
Yoo Joonghyuk eyed him suspiciously. “I want those mints.”
“What mints?” Kim Dokja asked with innocent eyes.
“The ones in your bag.”
“I’m sorry, dear customer, but I’m paying for them right now. With my body.”
“Whoever can afford it first can buy it. There was no agreement to hold it for you.”
“Ah, but I did buy them by selling my soul to Star Stream. I’m just paying back my debt.”
“Then I will pay off your debt in return for the mints,” demanded Yoo Joonghyuk, crossing his arms. “You can pay me back with your body.”
Kim Dokja considered Yoo Joonghyuk for a moment. His arms were sculpted art, his face was very, very pleasing to look at, and those pecs–
“No,” he said firmly, before he could get carried away. “How about you buy them from me and pay with your body?”
Yoo Joonghyuk just stood there, stewing in his rage. Though his face made his life considerably easier, he believed that he’d been working hard all his life so that things would work out in his favor, and he’d developed an endless, trigger-happy distaste for when things didn’t go according to his plans.
“Hurry up, you idiots. Stop holding up the line!” complained an older man from behind Yoo Joonghyuk.
“Fine,” said Yoo Joonghyuk stiffly. Jumping the counter just as the man before him had, he lifted Kim Dokja in a fireman’s carry and deposited him back to the customer’s side of the counter, shoving the convenience store bag back into his hands after taking the tin of mints from it. He reached across to snatch the hat off of Kim Dokja’s head and put it on his own. “Next customer,” he droned with an expression that embodied the antithesis of a customer service smile.
Incensed, Kim Dokja stormed toward the door, circled back, and got back into line to come face-to-face with Yoo Joonghyuk again.
“You took my mints,” said Kim Dokja.
“We reached an agreement,” said Yoo Joonghyuk.
“I never agreed to this. We even have a witness.”
Together, they turned to look at Uriel, who had begun munching on popcorn in her corner seat. She stopped chewing, eyes wide.
“Well, what do you say?” asked Kim Dokja. “Are the mints his or mine?”
Uriel swallowed audibly, wiped her mouth with a restaurant-grade linen cloth that she had somehow procured from nowhere, and smiled so brightly and beautifully that both Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk had to shield their eyes.
“You two are so cute!” she gushed. “If you get married, you’d both have custody over the mints!”
2.
And so, they got married.
They had a nice, small ceremony where Kim Dokja was dressed in pure white and Yoo Joonghyuk in pure black (it was the one thing in this whole ordeal that he expressed a strong opinion for after getting over his initial dismay, so the planning committee felt obligated to grant his wish), completed their vows with overly-polite and obscenely general speeches that only two people who barely knew each other could come up with, and were whisked off to a honeymoon overseas in Vegas, where Kim Dokja scammed so many casinos that when they returned home to Korea a week later, they were several million USD richer and blacklisted from every prominent gambling establishment along the Las Vegas Strip.
“So, where do you live?” asked Yoo Joonghyuk when they landed back on the roof of the convenience store in Uriel’s family’s private jet.
“Nearby. Wanna move in?”
As it turned out, Kim Dokja’s residence was uninhabitable. Sure, it was clean, but it was also completely empty.
“Where do you sleep?” asked Yoo Joonghyuk in genuine confusion. The space consisted only of the entrance, a tragic excuse of a bathroom, and an even more tragic excuse of a kitchen that was smaller than the tragic excuse of a bathroom.
Kim Dokja pointed down the short hallway leading from the doorway to the two other ‘rooms’, and motioned at the floor. “I have an extra blanket that I use as a cushion.”
“...where do you keep it?”
Kim Dokja put a hand to his chest. “In my heart.”
“I see. Kim Dokja, have you ever heard of galvanized square steel and eco-friendly wood veneers?”
“I considered it, but I really don’t like my aunt.”
“Ah, I see.” Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t blame him; he wasn’t on speaking terms with his aunt, either. “Then how about you move into my place?”
Yoo Joonghyuk had a very nice place. A penthouse, to be exact.
“How can you afford this when you’re unemployed?” asked Kim Dokja, standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows with his hands behind his back and staring down at the glittering lights of Seoul below, cosplaying the rich billionaire CEO he had never dreamed of becoming.
Yoo Joonghyuk refused to answer him, and Kim Dokja decided to stop asking for the sake of plausible deniability.
3.
Fortunately, with Yoo Joonghyuk’s suspicious stockpile of money and Kim Dokja’s casino earnings, they were both able to live more than comfortably.
Han Sooyoung came to visit one day, motivated by a mild concern over her friend’s dubious marriage. “I thought he was a serial killer, but as it turns out, he’s just a loser.”
“He’s alright,” said Kim Dokja like he didn’t fight with Yoo Joonghyuk daily over who had hogged the covers more the night before. Yoo Joonghyuk had brought up getting separate blankets, but Kim Dokja immediately vetoed the idea because how else was he supposed to assert his dominance? “He’s got nice assets.”
Han Sooyoung made a face. “As long as you’re happy, I guess.” She left to examine the two-tiered kitchen sink before Kim Dokja could tell her that he wasn’t talking about those kinds of assets. “Anyway, why are you still at Minosoft? Is all this rich crap just for show?”
“No, I’m just keeping busy so that I can come home to my beautiful, adoring housewife after a long day at work and have dinner ready for me on the table.”
Han Sooyoung leveled him with a strange look that straddled the line between judgemental and jealousy. “I liked you better when you were a struggling salaryman.”
“I still am,” said Kim Dokja. “I struggle every day over my spending rights.” He stuck his head into his refrigerator and re-emerged with a roll of nearly-expired convenience store kimbap in one hand and a round Yubari King Melon in the other. “One of these things was imported from Japan and costs as much as one month of your rent. The other–” Kim Dokja squeezed the kimbap until it crinkled sadly in his grip, “–is my lunch.”
“...No way. Let me try some of that,” said Han Sooyoung, groping at the melon.
“No,” said Kim Dokja firmly, evading her hands. “I’m scared I’ll ruin it. I’m waiting for Hyuk-ie to come home so he can cut it open.”
Han Sooyoung paused. “Who did you say you got married to?”
“Yoo Joonghyuk-ie.”
Immediately, Han Sooyoung paled. “Y-Yoo Joonghyuk?”
Kim Dokja put the melon back into the fridge gently, like it was made of gold. “Did I ever tell you how we met? It was at that convenience store you used to tell me was run by the mafia.”
Han Sooyoung dragged a hand down her face with a groan. “You idiot, I told you to stop going there or you’d get kidnapped. Wait wait, that’s not important. Do you even know who Yoo Joonghyuk is?”
“My wife.”
Han Sooyoung leveled him with a flat stare, and Kim Dokja looked away. “I’ve been a little busy.”
“Busy getting hitched.”
“Lots of change, y’know. Tides of life and time and all that.”
Han Sooyoung whipped out her phone and did a quick internet search. “Look,” she demanded, and she shoved the screen so close to Kim Dokja’s face that he almost had a stroke.
Kim Dokja looked.
Yoo Joonghyuk, 28. Retired pro gamer.
The search engine then went on and on about Yoo Joonghyuk’s career, his accolades, how grateful the pro gaming industry had been when Yoo Joonghyuk announced his retirement, and his feral fanbase. One section near the end of the page read that Yoo Joonghyuk’s latest stream had mentioned a potential spouse before he dropped off the face of the internet.
…At least he wasn’t a terrorist.
4.
Life with Yoo Joonghyuk was pretty okay, actually.
For the first few weeks, Kim Dokja would wake up to Yoo Joonghyuk staring holes into his face, offer to make breakfast in a panic, then burn down the kitchen because he was a walking disaster. Yoo Joonghyuk would come into the kitchen fully dressed and help Kim Dokja put out the fire, and then they would sit at their table and consume Kim Dokja’s cooking with varying levels of satisfaction. Kim Dokja would get dressed and head off to work, and when he came home, Yoo Joonghyuk would be sitting at the table with the Michelin-star quality food he’d cooked for dinner, and that would guilt Kim Dokja into doing the dishes.
Sometimes they would go out, sometimes they wouldn’t. They frequented the convenience store, met each other’s friends, and Yoo Joonghyuk started streaming again, fielding questions about his spouse with a smile hidden beyond the camera’s range of capture. Slowly, Kim Dokja learned to cook with trial and error and Yoo Joonghyuk’s guidance, and over time, he began wanting to leave work earlier not to read his webnovels, but to see Yoo Joonghyuk standing in their kitchen with that pink, Hello-Kitty-patterned apron (gifted so generously by Han Sooyoung) wrapped snugly around his waist.
Kim Dokja was doing the dishes one day when he felt a familiar warmth behind him.
“Are you going to critique my technique?” asked Kim Dokja.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s silence said that yes, he was. Kim Dokja had to suppress his smile. “If you have something to say, just say it.”
Yoo Joonghyuk still said nothing. It was so uncharacteristic of him that Kim Dokja stopped scrubbing and turned to see if he was still there.
He was. And he was very, very close. Kim Dokja’s heart raced and his breath hitched as, slowly and gently as if he expected Kim Dokja to move away, Yoo Joonghyuk’s arms looped around his waist and his head settled against Kim Dokja’s shoulder.
He wasn’t a stranger to physical contact with Yoo Joonghyuk. They lived together, after all: slept in the same bed, brushed limbs as they lounged on the couch, and sometimes Kim Dokja would pull on Yoo Joonghyuk’s cheeks, only to be retaliated against similarly.
This though–this was intimate. Kim Dokja could feel the press of Yoo Joonghyuk’s body against his, the ghost of hot air across the nape of his neck, the tickle of dark hair against his cheek. To his dismay, his chest tightened and his face grew hot, heart hammering so hard, he thought Yoo Joonghyuk could feel it.
And yet, he couldn’t move away. He stood frozen still, reveling at how solid and real Yoo Joonghyuk felt against him.
He thought he was going to die right then and there. He never wanted this to end.
But Yoo Joonghyuk eventually moved away, retreating to the living room without another word. Kim Dokja had not died, but he felt feverish: hot from the heat in his cheeks, cold from the loss of Yoo Joonghyuk’s warmth.
From then on, Kim Dokja’s stomach would do a stupid little flip if he so much as thought of Yoo Joonghyuk.
On one rare morning that he woke up before Yoo Joonghyuk did, he admired his sleeping visage, cursed himself, and pulled on Yoo Joonghyuk’s perfect cheek.
“You did this to me, you sunfish,” muttered Kim Dokja. He let go and rubbed at Yoo Joonghyuk’s hair, swearing that he would immunize himself to his husband’s face.
Yoo Joonghyuk opened his eyes, bleary with sleep, and as Kim Dokja’s heart lurched, he had to remind himself that all progress took time.
As it turned out, Kim Dokja couldn’t fool himself this time.
It was the weekend, so Yoo Joonghyuk was doing the dishes while Kim Dokja watched him silently from the doorway of the kitchen. It had to be that apron’s fault, he decided.
“Kim Dokja, come here,” said Yoo Joonghyuk without looking back.
“Why should I?” asked Kim Dokja lightly, inwardly cursing those protagonist instincts. “Can’t I watch my darling wife in peace?” Yoo Joonghyuk paused, shoulders stiffening, and Kim Dokja felt glee spread across his very being. “Aww, is Hyuk-ie embarrassed?”
Yoo Joonghyuk looked back, glaring, but it was without malice. “No. Come here.”
Kim Dokja did, and as he approached, Yoo Joonghyuk opened his arms, expecting.
“...What do you want me to do?”
“Come. Here.”
He was actually going to perish today. And yet…
Kim Dokja went to Yoo Joonghyuk, and suddenly he was pressed once again against Yoo Joonghyuk, sandwiched awkwardly between his arms, his chest, and the sink.
“This is how you should wash them,” Yoo Joonghyuk was saying, but Kim Dokja was fully distracted by the murmur of air against his ear and the way he could feel Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice start from deep within his chest.
How exactly did he end up here again?
…Shit.
Later that day when they were sitting side-by-side on the couch to watch a movie, Kim Dokja gathered every scrap of his courage, threw his better judgment out the window, and scooted close enough to Yoo Joonghyuk that their legs were fully pressed together. Yoo Joonghyuk looked at him in surprise, color dusting his cheekbones, and Kim Dokja felt a surge of satisfaction as he wound their ankles together.
A moment later, Yoo Joonghyuk took his hand, fingers lacing in a rough yet gentle grip, and the physical contact along with Yoo Joonghyuk’s gentle grin had all thoughts of the movie promptly hurtling out of Kim Dokja’s mind.
5.
They ended up buying the convenience store.
“It was to free you,” Kim Dokja explained to a sobbing Uriel. “I didn’t know if working for an evil corporation like Star Stream was what you truly wanted for yourself in life.”
“Th-thank you,” said Uriel, wiping her eyes, only to burst into more tears when she saw how Yoo Joonghyuk’s arm was draped possessively around Kim Dokja’s waist. “My life’s calling has already been fulfilled!”
“Then find a new one,” said Yoo Joonghyuk.
“I’ve peaked already,” sniffed Uriel.
“There’s always a higher peak beyond the clouds.”
When Uriel had gone, taking with her the remaining tissues the store had stocked and promises to stay in touch, Kim Dokja turned to Yoo Joonghyuk.
“What’s your higher calling, then?”
Yoo Joonghyuk looked at his husband with eyes filled with affection. “You.”
Kim Dokja really couldn’t think of what miracles he must have performed in his previous life to deserve this, but he reached up to take Yoo Joonghyuk’s face in his hands. “I’m very glad I met you, Yoo Joonghyuk.”
Yoo Joonghyuk turned to press a kiss against Kim Dokja’s palm. “And I, you.”