Chapter Text

1.

The Theory of Romancing to Guarantee One’s Permanent Existence, created a few minutes ago by the contributor Kim Dokja, states that Yoo Joonghyuk was seducing Kim Dokja into staying. 

Now while he's the type to either come to deductive conclusions or pull information out of his ass, this isn't something baselessly assumed. He has proof. Sort of.

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t like being touched by others, nor did he like doing the same, but through weeks of observation, Yoo Joonghyuk kept doing just that: touching him. He would put an arm around his waist with the excuse of needing to grab something behind him, wipe away crumbs at the corner of Kim Dokja’s mouth, and even went as far as to carry him to his wheelchair. 

When Kim Dokja tried to get out of the hospital bed for the first time, he immediately fell to the floor from how stagnant his muscles were. It even took him at least half a day to speak because of how heavy his tongue was. But now he's finally capable of moving on his own, though only for a certain period of time. Since there's no reliable explanation behind why Yoo Joonghyuk keeps this up, it only makes sense that he's doing this for a reason that isn't genuine attraction.

But seriously, he isn't made of glass?!

Maybe Yoo Joonghyuk just doesn’t trust Kim Dokja enough to handle things on his own. It makes a lot of sense since Kim Dokja no longer had any stories nor skills left; they were gone with the wind as if they were nothing more than a passing dream. He remembers feeling a strange air of coldness escape through his fingers. Once he was finally whole, the stories no longer served as a source of energy, reverting him back to something ordinary. Something he loathed to be.

Strangely, he feels smaller now than when he was the Oldest Dream. The latter had power after all, even if he was ironically powerless, his status was still an immense existence. Although objectively speaking, it seems better than being unemployed and middle-aged. Unfortunately, he's now faced with the recurring reality of being plain old Kim Dokja. Pathetic and gross, sort of like a wet paper bag.

He stares at the cloudy sky with a frown.

“I’d like to go outside.” Kim Dokja decides. 

The other man doesn’t say anything in return, which is expected. He was questionably attentive during the first week of Kim Dokja's return, so he was bound to get tired of putting on a facade. Shrugging to himself, he wheels to the door but gets stopped by Yoo Joonghyuk, who towers over him as he scans Kim Dokja's hospital gown.  “It's too cold.” He mumbles.

Kim Dokja sighs. “Then you can stay here.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk takes a step back, pursing his lips before leaving his line of sight. Kim Dokja can't help but feel a little disappointed. If Yoo Joonghyuk really wants to seduce him, wouldn’t he do an act of service right about now? It seems that the thought of Yoo Joonghyuk changing is wrong, maybe he didn’t have much attachment to Kim Dokja after all.

So much for getting his hopes up.

As Kim Dokja grumbles to himself, he hears rustling behind him and a warm jacket is draped around his shoulders. He flounders at the sudden black fabric surrounding him, and before he can think too much of whose closet it came from, the wheelchair is being pushed forward.

“I'm coming with you.” The stubborn voice says. “You can't start running off.”

Oh, like his legs can get him far anyway. 

…Yet, he's a little pleased. 

Doctors greet him on the way out and Yoo Joonghyuk adjusts the loose neckline of Kim Dokja's gown. This action causes two girls in the waiting area to squeal, most likely getting the wrong idea. The guy is just trying to earn brownie points, no big deal. 

…Or maybe they found the man attractive? Even if it’s been so long, one fact that didn’t change is that Yoo Joonghyuk’s looks are no joke.

—

They make it to the gardens where yellow petals litter across bushes surrounding a water fountain. The pretty view almost seems like a waste from how the clouds gather to hide the sun.

As the wind brushes past his face, he hugs the jacket closer to his chest, picking up a faint scene of detergent and pine.

Now to tackle the issue at hand.

It’s difficult to gauge what type of relationship remains between Yoo Joonghyuk and him. Once, Kim Dokja tried his best to seem presentable, to seem worthy. With how distrustful Yoo Joonghyuk was— rightfully so, Kim Dokja never expected much, but now that the scenarios are long over, what remained? He wasn’t useful to them anymore, but for some reason they searched for him even if the stakes were too high. Kim Dokja was scattered somewhere far away. It was scarier that not even Kim Dokja knew of his proper location. 

Upon waking up, their explanations were reduced to something so simple as wanting. They just wanted him around for no practical reason at all. Why go through all that trouble for an empty shell? Why work so hard when there was no guarantee he would return? It hurts to think about it. It hurts even more because he can't understand anything at all, and the undeserved warmth shot his way just makes his chest ache.

Biting back the wetness in his eyes, Kim Dokja does what he does best. He hides behind normalcy.

“Do you like flowers, Joonghyuk-ah?” His words still escape shakily, the confidence he used to wear like a coat is nowhere to be found.

Yoo Joonghyuk has always been secretive about many things. While he was a regressor, he didn’t want to put extra effort into being known. He didn’t indulge in pointless conversations and was sparing with his words. So in order to test the waters of this very embarrassing theory, Kim Dokja wants to measure how far he could push him, psychologically of course. If his theory is right, then Yoo Joonghyuk has no choice but to sacrifice himself and indulge in small talk.

“Not really.” He finally says. Kim Dokja tries not to laugh.

“Well, the weather is nice.” 

It’s clear that Yoo Joonghyuk wouldn't waste his breath on idle conversation. If Kim Dokja could just drag this out…

“How are you these days, Joonghyuk-ah?” He makes his voice painfully polite, like a chirpy cashier to a customer. It's usually a question of interest with disinterest seeping through, but truth be told, Kim Dokja badly wants to know about the present Yoo Joonghyuk. 

Words could not encapsulate how badly he’s missed him.

He imagines a judgemental arch in his eyebrow, or a face betraying no emotion. Since Kim Dokja had his back facing Yoo Joonghyuk, he didn't really know the truth. Apart from the weight of anxiety given his existence back on earth, what continuously deters him is the ties they share.

When the need to exist side by side vanishes, would anything remain?

A raindrop lands shy of Kim Dokja's shoulder, and Yoo Joonghyuk is about to reel him in the veranda a few feet away, but Kim Dokja stops him. 

“Wait.” He speaks up, a strange urge to be spontaneous to properly measure his own worth. It’s a request teetering between loss and hope, to realize something he desperately wants to know, but maybe it's best to be left in the dark. The rain gets his bangs wet. There's no reason for Yoo Joonghyuk to listen to this plea, the man never bended for Kim Dokja or anyone really. Given today’s circumstances, he has no reason to anyway.

Taking control of the wheelchair, he rolls it forward in an attempt to free it from Yoo Joonghyuk's grasp. Instead, the grip tightens and he lurches forward. A large hand splays over his chest to keep him in place.

Kim Dokja’s heart pounds against rough fingertips as a droplet of water rolls down his forehead.

“What is wrong with you?” Yoo Joonghyuk seethes, casting a shadow in his peripheral vision and Kim Dokja feels the words on his cheeks. The rainpour takes a turn for the worse, a violent shower against the pavement that causes his vision to blur.

“Um,” Kim Dokja blinks, not too sure himself. How far was he willing to go over such a nonsensical theory? “I— I wanted to go for a swim?”

…

“We're going back.”

—

A soaked Kim Dokja is driven back to the hospital room. He keeps his head down even as he shivers, guilty for getting Yoo Joonghyuk and his clothes drenched. It seems like everyone hates it when he apologizes, so he chooses to bite his tongue. 

Yoo Joonghyuk runs a distressed hand through his hair, shaking the rain from his strands. If this happened during the scenarios, Kim Dokja's sure he would be dead by now.

However, Yoo Joonghyuk isn't angry, at least not as angry as he once was, just weirdly calm. All he could interpret is simple annoyance.

Yoo Joonghyuk dabs Kim Dokja’s face with a towel. It's uncharacteristically gentle that he has to point it out. “You treat me like I’m about to break.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I'm not that— I can handle it.” He's been consistent with physical therapy after all. It's never been easy, but he's trying. 

“You overestimate yourself.” He fires back and it's said so transparently that he can't even refute it. All he can do is glare at the wall instead.

Suddenly, Yoo Joonghyuk kneels and takes hold of the hospital gown’s hem. Kim Dokja freezes. “Yoo Joonghyuk?”

“I’m taking this off.”

“...Why?”

“Are you stupid?” He starts lifting it up but Kim Dokja holds his wrists.

“Have you done this before?”

“Someone had to change you while you were unconscious.” Yoo Joonghyuk’s lip quirks up at how Kim Dokja’s jaw drops. “We took turns.”

Oh god. He hopes it wasn't the kids. Apart from how embarrassing that would be, being taken care of in such a state is too much. “‘We?’”

“Han Sooyoung and I.”

“Oh…” Kim Dokja deflates. When he thinks about it, Han Sooyoung is sort of like a god, all-knowing and all-seeing or something along those lines. She’s seen him unclothed against both of their wills— he would rather not talk about that death, and she knows his thoughts like the back of her hand. At this point, it would be surprising if there was anything she didn’t know.

“What does that expression mean?” Yoo Joonghyuk says suddenly, looking at Kim Dokja like he’s wronged him.

“I mean, Han Sooyoung’s seen everything anyway.”

Yoo Joonghyuk's face darkens. He lets go of the towel and throws a fresh set of clothes at his face. “Change yourself.” He commands, leaving the room.

All he can do is blink in shock. Just what's his deal? 

2. 

“You don’t actually like me.” Kim Dokja says into the fogged up mirror, pointing at it with confidence. No, he couldn’t say that to his face.

After being released from the hospital with semi-strengthened legs, there was an unanimous decision that he would stay with Yoo Joonghyuk for a while. 

(He learns that all of his friends didn't live in a big house like they wanted, but perhaps it was too farfetched in the first place. Rather, they were scattered across the city, which was enough. At least they were all here.)

He's greeted with visitors in the afternoon. By the couch is Yoo Sangah with her bag and folder neatly placed beside her. Working as a part-time librarian, she often borrows books for Kim Dokja to read. Most of the time, they read simply for the sake of it, and while he isn’t as interested in reading as he used to be, it's a productive way to pass time.

“What's this about?” Kim Dokja asks after sitting beside her, smoothing out a fold in the cover of the book she handed him. 

“Hm, I’m not sure. I borrowed whatever the students seemed to like.” Yoo Sangah replies with an easy shrug. He squints down at the book, there really isn’t much to assess. Given the raunchy book cover of shirtless men holding suspiciously heated eye contact, it’s easy to put two and two together. 

This isn’t something he would ever read. The amused look Yoo Sangah shoots his way makes it more obvious. He frowns. “Are you making fun of me?” He also wants to ask how these types of books are even allowed in schools, but there's a more important truth at hand.

Her lip twitches. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Adjacent to them are Han Sooyoung— who previously arrived with Yoo Sangah— and Yoo Joonghyuk, who are for some reason, attempting to bake something. Well, it’s more of Yoo Joonghyuk doing the baking while trying to kick Han Sooyoung away, but she's always been good at clinging onto people. 

“She’s like a spiky cat.” Yoo Sangah mutters, hiding a smile behind her hands. Kim Dokja can't help but agree with how feisty she is. There's an animalistic ferocity in her eyes as she glares at the larger man, it's almost cartoon-like.

Plus, Kim Dokja swears she hisses.

They don’t get much reading done with how distracting the clamor becomes, and instead decide to watch the free entertainment. At one point, Yoo Joonghyuk gets a face full of flour, and as Han Sooyoung cackles, the same powder gets shoved in her mouth. 

Yoo Sangah and Kim Dokja have to hide behind their books to disguise their laughter.

Wiping his eyes, he jabs a thumb in Yoo Joonghyuk’s direction. “I can’t tell what's going through his mind at all.”

“Why do you say so?” Yoo Sangah perks up, clearly interested but attempting to conceal it under concern. 

…It would be alright to tell Yoo Sangah, right? She isn't the type of person to snitch. Besides, she also happens to be the kindest person in Korea. Even if the chances of her judging him are low, he would still take it in stride.

“Yoo Joonghyuk might be using my feelings against me.” He says quickly, not as mortified as he expected. 

Yoo Sangah tilts her head, urging him to continue.

“He’s…romancing me.” 

It takes approximately ten seconds until her eyes light up in understanding. “So you think he’s flirting with you so that you don’t leave again?” It should be scary how quickly she connects the dots, but being in the Fourth Wall's library granted her unlimited access to his beliefs after all. There's always a pattern to a person's thoughts no matter how unpredictable, and overtime, Yoo Sangah learned that pattern of his.

“Exactly.” He nods. 

“You haven't considered that maybe he simply likes you?” Yoo Sangah is sensitive enough to spare his feelings, but a straightforward answer like that just isn't realistic.

“No way." He shakes his head. "I mean, sure there are some feelings there, but it’s far from that. I gave him a reason to exist whether he liked it or not." He fights the remorse dripping through his voice and seeping in the corner of his lips. He hopes to shrug it off despite how heavy his shoulders feel.

There are moments where he should filter out the things he says and does because he doesn't want to circle around his regrets. No matter how deeply ingrained the worst parts of himself are, they are aspects that should be rejected or forgotten. There is nothing good from knowing the permanence of the past. Whenever he finds himself thinking too hard, all he wants is to undo everything. 

Even if that means never crossing paths at all. 

—

After living with Yoo Joonghyuk, there are habits that Kim Dokja learns about. Such mundane things like how he manages to wake up at eight am everyday, or how he marks the calendar by the living room shelf, or how he showers with cold water. 

(No, he's not a creep for that last one. It's only natural to know since Kim Dokja always adjusts the temperature when it's his turn. Warm showers are obviously much better, but Yoo Joonghyuk must like the cold. Maybe it's because his blood is always warm.)

In the dining room, he fills a sudoku puzzle book. It's as boring as it sounds, but Han Sooyoung told him to make it worth his while. She also stated that he was in dire need of an IQ boost. He doesn't know whether it was a jab or a comment of genuine concern. 

Well, he thinks, erasing his mistakes for a third time, anything beats going back to the subway. He tries not to talk about it, his friends don’t bring it up either. It’s probably a sensitive topic to both parties. Plus, there’s not really much to recall anyway. Being stuck in a perpetual cycle and a subway with no destination was as stagnant as it gets. 

He recalls how strange it felt as he watched the lighting shift in the train, body slightly rattling from how weak he’s gotten. How he had to watch everything unfold over and over again. How he couldn’t escape the consequences of a child who just wanted a reason to keep going.

Sometimes, when he tunes everything out, the comfortable silence distorts into an ambience he can’t shake off. It’s difficult to forget about the chilling whisper in his ears— the gliding of the tracks, the buzz of the vehicle— 

The bathroom door a few feet away clicks open and he bites his tongue hard, forcing the thoughts away. Clenching his eyes shut, he breathes deeply in an attempt to slow his rapid pulse, focusing on the feeling of his lungs expanding. He's practiced shutting off his thoughts in the presence of others, all he needs to do is focus on forgetting.

Pressing his fingertips onto the table to immerse himself in tangibility, he catches a whiff of soap pass by.

Blinking his eyes open, he turns around to a view that snaps him out of it completely.

Humid fog billows behind Yoo Joonghyuk and he’s in nothing but a towel, wet hair dripping down his bare chest.

Is this some sick joke?

Anyone would think it’s a scandalous sight. Maybe a little alluring. A half-naked man emerging from the bathroom is ordinary on the surface, but something about this seems staged. Kim Dokja shakes his head to melt away the shock and he realizes that the steam would only be possible if he showered with scathing hot water. Meaning he deviated from what he normally does, meaning this was definitely planned.

His assumption is confirmed when Yoo Joonghyuk uses the towel on his shoulder to dab at his wet curls, making direct eye contact with Kim Dokja. He should be annoyed with how deliberate everything is, but a part of himself is so in awe with how well-crafted his body is, it doesn't help that his skin practically shines even in the poorly-lit room. It really is so unfair, how can he have such a perfect face? A nice body as well…wow. Metaphorically speaking, he is currently getting slapped five times in the face. 

Not that he cares or anything.

“What?” Yoo Joonghyuk scoffs, muscles shifting everytime he squeezes his hair dry.

“Nothing,” he breaks eye contact, even if that’s equivalent to admitting defeat. “I was just picturing you with a mohawk.”

—

“I just don't understand.” He frowns, watching Yoo Joonghyuk clean the counter as Han Sooyoung coughs violently, flour spurting up in the air which– is definitely a fire hazard. Yoo Sangah shoots her a worried look and is granted a reassuring thumbs up in return. “Blackmail would suit him much more.”

Yoo Sangah laughs lightly, still staring at the spectacle when she speaks. “Do you really think so?”

Truthfully? Everything Kim Dokja’s been saying lately is half-baked. Knowledge upon knowledge built on reading about Yoo Joonghyuk no longer mattered here. Maybe reality changes fiction, hence the shift in Yoo Joonghyuk's personality. It's almost unrecognizable how his dark eyes are softened into something light, not quite tender but not quite vicious either. He’s weirdly relaxed as he wipes the marbled table with a rag. It’s almost sweet, how domestic he suddenly seems. 

All of a sudden, the question feels loaded. 

His mouth goes dry. “I'm not sure.”

Maybe he’s got everything wrong. 

3.

Yoo Joonghyuk's room is too barren.

By the light switch, a Kuromi sticker is pasted beside it, most likely Yoo Mia's doing. After pointing it out, Yoo Joonghyuk said she's dorming in preparation for college, and her semester's ending in a few weeks. They seem to check in on each other at least twice a week, and he found this out when Yoo Joonghyuk’s phone rang while they were having lunch. 

(“I wanted to,” her voice, not as high as it used to be, crackles from Yoo Joonghyuk’s phone. The tone makes Kim Dokja feel intrusive, so he turns the other way and puts more rice in his mouth.

Yoo Joonghyuk sighs with a light sort of exasperation. “I know. You can come home whenever.” Then his eyes look upwards, right at Kim Dokja. “Just notify me first.”

Yoo Mia laughs, as if taken aback. “Okay, oppa. I would rather die than walk in on– ugh, don’t even make me think of it.”

Walk in on what? Kim Dokja’s ugly face? She never shied away from jabbing at his physical appearance, but who could refute when she shared the genes of the handsomest guy on the planet?)

Upon hearing of her nearing return, Kim Dokja tries not to feel so nervous. Yoo Joonghyuk’s sister never liked Kim Dokja much, in fact, she probably didn’t like him at all. He’s worried she would kill him for stealing Yoo Joonghyuk, or something. It doesn't help that her brother’s room was so… empty. It could be misinterpreted that Yoo Joonghyuk’s priorities lie elsewhere, especially since Kim Dokja is practically the only thing in Yoo Joonghyuk's room, save for the bed and computer table. 

Yeah, Yoo Mia would definitely get the wrong idea.

“Hey, Yoo Joonghyuk. Let's go furniture shopping.” He says, attempting to sit on the bed that the other had just made.

Yoo Joonghyuk swats him away, palm open to smoothen gray sheets. “What do you need?”

“It’s for you.”

At the statement, Yoo Joonghyuk straightens, left eyebrow twitching. 

After a lot of convincing and a triumphant but drained Kim Dokja later, he is being manhandled (nicely) into the car and they're headed to the nearest furniture store with his wheelchair in tow. He’s able to walk around the house without much difficulty, but in larger areas, it’s recommended to use his wheelchair to avoid straining his legs.

Kim Dokja tells Yoo Joonghyuk where to go as his wheelchair is being pushed in the aisles, sometimes giving the wrong directions to piss him off, commanding to turn left when they've reached a dead end. For some reason, Yoo Joonghyuk still doesn’t threaten to end his life, but his jaw definitely tenses. He's not quite sure if he misses the death threats, but it kinda feels like holding your arms out to catch something from the sky, only for it to fall meters away from you. Maybe that’s a weird analogy. One of Han Sooyoung’s students would probably ask, ‘Are you implying that death threats from Yoo Joonghyuk are a gift from the heavens?’

His answer to that is, ‘Maybe.’

Spotting an extravagant picture frame on the lower aisle, he pats Yoo Joonghyuk's arm. “Look at this one.”

Yoo Joonghyuk ducks to see it, peering over his shoulder. “What would I need that for?”

A family photo is what Kim Dokja thinks, but it would be too embarrassing to say the words out loud, especially since none of them were actually blood related. It’s too heart-rendering, and the remnants of unworthiness leaves his tongue heavy-ladened. Some of his friends didn't seem to be on the best terms either. Maybe labeling them as something so close to his heart is wishful thinking.

“...A picture of me, of course.” He suggests, pretending it was obvious. The unimpressed look on Yoo Joonghyuk's face is too good to miss. “Am I not your most beloved companion?”

He feels a little bad for pushing his buttons, but this dynamic is what he's used to. He expects the lack of a response, but he doesn't expect Yoo Joonghyuk to grab the frame and place it in the cart. 

—

When Kim Dokja returns from his lunch with Han Sooyoung the following day, he finds the picture frame standing on the dresser in all its glory. He really just picked the first one he saw, but in hindsight, the frame is really pretty. The vintage frame is decorated with golden swirls and intricate shapes. In the center is a photo of himself with his eyes shut, cheek loosely resting on someone’s shoulder. Upon closer inspection, he realizes it was taken from the news that one time Secretive Plotter stole him away. It’s of grainy quality, like someone had taken a photo of the television rather than a screen capture.

“Dinner’s ready,” Yoo Joonghyuk announces, peeking through the slightly ajar door. Kim Dokja motions him closer.

“Why is it black and white? Where'd you even get this?”

Yoo Joonghyuk hums, placing a thoughtless hand on the small of Kim Dokja’s back as he gazes at the frame too. Or that’s what he wants Kim Dokja to think. Unconscious acts reveal the heart, but Kim Dokja knows Yoo Joonghyuk is very conscious of his generous chivalry. Someone should applaud him for his acting.

“Lee Jihye gave it to me.” Yoo Joonghyuk says.

He tries not to ask about it. That girl is devious for her own entertainment, and her thoughts are simple in a way that’s almost complex. Plus, she must’ve added that filter on purpose, like a portrait for a funeral. “She wants me dead.”

Shifting his eyes away from it, he notices the lamp and vase he picked out placed on top of the drawers. Then the large wolf stuffed toy on the bed, then the multi-colored rag that looked nostalgic…and the miniature clock on the bedside table which he also chose…huh? Shouldn’t this be in his room and not Yoo Joonghyuk’s?

Wait, was the spare room meant for Yoo Mia this entire time?

3.5.

Kim Dokja never expects Yoo Joonghyuk to be so clingy. Granted, this is definitely premeditated, but he didn't think Yoo Joonghyuk would take it this far. 

He frowns at the ceiling, shifting in the bed that is definitely not his. Yoo Joonghyuk lays on his back beside him, breathing steadily. This arrangement is out of Kim Dokja's hands because initially he planned on resting in his own bed (which he later learns isn’t his) , but Yoo Joonghyuk was adamant on joining him, going as far as to squeeze himself into the twin sized bed and almost falling off in the process. Kim Dokja could stand his ground, could tell Yoo Joonghyuk to give him space, yet he allows the man to drag him into Yoo Joonghyuk's bed. It's much softer than the other one. There's even a cooling pad placed underneath the bed sheets. 

Plus, he doesn't quite know if he can handle being alone right now. Even if this is superficial, maybe anything remotely close to it is what he craves.

The warm figure at his side is more reassuring than anything. It frequently knocks him off-kilter, like finally having a star within reach after holding a hand out for so long; he feels something in his chest tingle. It shouldn’t be surprising, Yoo Joonghyuk has always been the one thing Kim Dokja admired. Even after meeting him on that cliff, he couldn’t help but memorize every microexpression, every breath, every movement, no matter how small. 

He's always so in awe of his protagonist. 

Yoo Joonghyuk doesn't like it when he's called that, but Kim Dokja doesn't want to let it go. It's true that he's much more than a character, but he will always be Kim Dokja's protagonist, his world, his everything.

Turning so that he faces Yoo Joonghyuk, he stares at his profile. The blue moonlight peeks through the curtains, painting the hollow of Yoo Joonghyuk’s cheeks, sinking into the dip of his collarbones before disappearing into his shirt. There is no tension in his eyebrows, and Kim Dokja’s fingers twitch. Distantly, he understands how dangerous peace is and how difficult it is to maintain. Temptation prods at Kim Dokja's fingers, urging him to break the tranquility. He wants nothing more than to map out the lines of Yoo Joonghyuk’s face, to glide through every dip so he could memorize through touch and not only sight. For so long, he could only love Yoo Joonghyuk through his eyes. 

A treacherous question wanders in the silent space, what would it take for Yoo Joonghyuk to truly love him? It lingers in the air and he drifts to sleep, the blanket surrounding him almost feels bittersweet.

4.

At this point, Kim Dokja should probably just confront Yoo Joonghyuk. However, Kim Dokja never liked confrontation, so he just lets it be. While this setup definitely falls under deception, it’s not as bad as it sounds. Yoo Joonghyuk isn’t the type of guy to be so shameless and this is just a desperate strategy to keep Kim Dokja safe. Plus, it's practically the opportunity of a lifetime to have his feelings pseudo-requited, so who can blame him if he basks in it? 

So while Yoo Joonghyuk plays on his computer, Kim Dokja rests a chin on his shoulder as he pretends to watch the monitor instead of the shift in the man’s expression. When Yoo Joonghyuk prepares their meals, Kim Dokja designates himself as the taste tester, which ultimately fails as he has to fight for a piece while getting shooed away. Lastly, this one gets him simultaneously embarrassed and jittery, but sometimes he kisses Yoo Joonghyuk goodnight on the cheek or forehead. It’s more of an act of revenge than anything, but somehow Kim Dokja finds himself more meek than smug.

Given their living arrangements, he’s getting used to sleeping in the same bed as Yoo Joonghyuk. He learns that Yoo Joonghyuk prefers to sleep on his right side, so Kim Dokja rests on his left. 

Yoo Joonghyuk has just finished freshening up and is currently tucking them both in. Kim Dokja starts counting in his head.

He’s gonna do something a little risky, the target of tonight is Yoo Joonghyuk’s mouth, an upgrade from skin. It can’t be considered a sneak attack because Kim Dokja is obviously a little tense, face and body stilling like ice. If this ends up displeasing the man, it has nothing to do with Kim Dokja. At the end of the day, this is Yoo Joonghyuk’s fault for starting the whole thing. He makes a conscious effort to avoid staring at his lips, which means keeping his eyes intently on Yoo Joonghyuk’s.

…Somehow, this is more intimate than touching at all.

They stare at each other for what feels like hours, Kim Dokja counts forwards, then backwards, then forwards again. The night paints Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze inscrutable, all he knows is that those eyes are watching him.

Taking a deep breath, Kim Dokja halts his running thoughts and does it. The touch is feather light, but his blood rushes to his veins anyway. He jerks back, turning so he faces away, lips strangely prickly. “Goodnight!” He yells, voice concerningly high.

Forget what he said about getting used to sharing a bed. Now his heart is racing again. It’s so deafening to the point where it feels as if the entire world can hear it. 

“Kim Dokja.” Yoo Joonghyuk speaks and he can feel the words rattle in his bones. He shivers and plays it off as a tired yawn. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pretends to snore. The amount of force directed in his eyelids is making him see spots, but he does the calming routine of inhaling and exhaling. He pictures serenity, waterfalls, angels in the sky, birds chirping—

A hand lands on his stomach and he is pulled backwards to a hard chest. His eyes fly open. “Next time, I won’t let this slide.” He mutters into Kim Dokja’s nape, the peace broken.

5.

Yoo Mia shows up in the morning with red luggage at her side. Her features are the same as ever, if not a little sharper. Her hair’s been trimmed to a manageable length, stopping right by her shoulders. Weirdly enough, they exchange amiable greetings. No insults are thrown his way, although she doesn't seem very pleased about that. 

She takes a hearty bite out of the bacon on her plate, eyes glimmering at the savory taste that makes her appear so childlike it was as if no time had passed after all. 

“So,” he starts uncomfortably, “what course are you planning to take?”

“Finance or Pre-Med. Anything that’ll earn me enough money. I need to save up for when oppa grows old and wrinkly.” Her phone pings and the rest of the conversation is omitted. She stays on her phone for a little longer and Yoo Joonghyuk calls her out for lacking table manners.

Suddenly, his chair is being dragged closer to Yoo Joonghyuk and the surprise must show in his eyes because Yoo Joonghyuk clarifies his intentions. “Eat your food.”

It’s almost embarrassing how Kim Dokja thinks he's trying to flirt with him like usual, but he simply doesn't want the food to go to waste. 

“No thank you.” Kim Dokja replies, but is already picking up his utensils. “You eat too. Your face is too chiseled.” Poking Yoo Joonghyuk's cheek for good measure, he’s disappointed at how lacking in fat it is. “I found an article about how bodies like yours are far from normal, you know? Maybe cut down on exercising.” 

While there’s nothing wrong with having muscle, Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t need all of it. What if it comes to a point where he can’t carry groceries because his muscles become too heavy? One time, he draped an arm around Yoo Joonghyuk’s chest in his sleep that the solidity of it almost woke him up. Seriously, is he made of rock or something?

Deep in thought, he speaks carelessly. “It’ll be easier for us to sl– to… go skydiving.”

...One of his greatest flaws is how his mouth runs faster than his brain. The slip up doesn’t go unnoticed and Yoo Mia is looking at him like he’s crazy.

The glare Yoo Joonghyuk sends him is scathing.

…Yeah, maybe he’ll just let it hang in there.

Yoo Mia breaks the silence. “Are you two finally dating yet?”

He freezes midchew, swallowing chunks of food that might’ve been too big to properly digest before sinking into his chair. The disbelief relaxes into amusement because he knew she would end up misunderstanding. Smiling at the man beside him, he asks, “Are we?”

The thing about seduction is that there's always an end goal that benefits the perpetrator. It’s a trick done to keep the other party interested, but not reassured, keeping someone on their toes is vital in capturing their attention. Besides, Yoo Joonghyuk is trying to get Kim Dokja to fall deeper, not establish an actual relationship. 

The expression on Yoo Joonghyuk’s face hardens, looking at Kim Dokja like it was his fault for being found out. Kim Dokja’s about to say that karma is an irreversible cycle and Yoo Joonghyuk should get on his knees and beg for mercy, but the other abruptly gets up, chair scraping against the floor. 

“Follow me.” Yoo Joonghyuk demands, and he's out of the kitchen.

Kim Dokja looks at Yoo Mia, hoping for some clarity or at least some pity. She only shrugs. “If you know what's good for you, you better go follow him, Ahjussi.”

He really doesn’t have much of a choice right now. Following those tense shoulders to the bedroom, he’s being guided onto Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaming chair with a tight hold on his wrist. Once he’s sat, he’s caged and fixed with a stern look. 

Gathering some strength, he speaks despite how solemn the room suddenly feels. “Look, Yoo Joonghyuk, I know what you’re doing.” He keeps his tone light, because that’s what this entire conversation should be.

“Do you?”

“Yes! I actually even named it.” He grins, finally given the opportunity to announce one of his greatest revelations of all time. “It’s called— can I get a drumroll please…”

“I’m not joking.” Yoo Joonghyuk says, leveling him with something that's not unkind, but it carries an intensity he can’t shake off.

He wills himself to stay calm.

“Okay, well. I know about your plans.” He nods slowly, not knowing why. Maybe to scope the probability of Yoo Joonghyuk killing him on the spot. “With me.” 

“...With you.” Yoo Joonghyuk echoes, making Kim Dokja feel stupid for having to practically announce it.

“Mhm,” Kim Dokja says, trying to find his footing. “And under normal circumstances, I would've held it against you, but I… decided to let you win.”

Confused, Yoo Joonghyuk raises an eyebrow. 

“I’m staying, okay? I’ll stay.” He speaks slowly, as if talking to a child. “So you don’t have to do all this anymore. Don’t force yourself.” With an uncomfortable smile hanging on his face, the silence only thickens. It’s clear that Kim Dokja’s intentions of having a casual conversation are ignored. This leaves him no choice but to fill in the heavy gap of stillness. “Your efforts will be rewarded greatly, but that's once I find a job. I can get you plenty of those dumplings that you like.”

This only makes Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyebrow draw further, as if solving a particularly difficult puzzle. The pure bafflement makes Kim Dokja a little lost too, and if this was a game of who ended up even more clueless, maybe Kim Dokja would win. 

Yoo Joonghyuk runs a frustrated hand through his hair, shaking his head slightly. Is it because he’s been found out? Doesn’t he look a little too defeated?  The wrinkled expression on his face is unexpected. It's a weighted look he’s never seen before.

Yoo Joonghyuk pauses every now and then, like the words were difficult to say. “I don’t need that. All I really want right now is…” It’s like an out of body experience to see Yoo Joonghyuk struggle in a way so devastatingly human. It scares him really, how true his tone sounds. “I'm not forcing anything. Kim Dokja, I want to do this.”

Against his will, his heart almost sways.

…Just how long is he gonna keep this up?

“You don't.” Kim Dokja says and almost scoffs. “Look, Yoo Joonghyuk, whatever you are trying to feel for me isn't equivalent to what you actually feel. This, everything you’ve been doing until now— it’s proof of that.” Kim Dokja isn't gullible, and he wouldn’t be pleased to be seen in such a way. He knows of the lies that make contact with his skin, of the lovely deception reaching his ears, and yet he lets it happen. There’s always been a permanent truth in Kim Dokja’s heart that Yoo Joonghyuk knows, and if anyone were to uncover it, they’d find Yoo Joonghyuk residing in his ribcage. 

Large hands grasp Kim Dokja’s face, touch equal parts gentle and painful. He’s being guided to keep his eyes on Yoo Joonghyuk, and an impressive layer of sincerity stares back at him. “Everything I've been doing is proof that my feelings are real.” Then he squints, as if connecting the dots of Kim Dokja’s thoughts. He gets closer. “And so am I, or do you still not believe me?” 

Kim Dokja tries to pry those warm hands away from his face, but it's futile. It’s ironic how this isn’t the first time he’s lost. Every time Yoo Joonghyuk’s skin touches his, he’s filled with an innate feeling of want. It’s a greedy thing to want, a luxury he shouldn’t be allowed to have. It leaves behind a residue of guilt that pools in his stomach, reminiscent of all the instances where Kim Dokja had to come to terms with the fact that Yoo Joonghyuk’s existence materialized because Kim Dokja couldn’t suffer alone. That he was at fault for being so selfish. That he had nothing to offer but his meager company.

As nice as it’s been living with Yoo Joonghyuk, there’s always an underlying layer of shame that he can’t swallow down. Sharing the same blanket, eating the same food, existing in this easy space with Yoo Joonghyuk, could he be allowed to do this? Even if he indulges in Yoo Joonghyuk’s honeyed words or soft touches, he knows it can’t be this easy. There’s always a catch to dreams so simple.

Even now, with the strange tenderness swimming in Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze, and the thumb brushing his jawline, he finds himself at a loss for words. It almost feels like drowning, to be looked at in such a way. 

With that, the spell finally breaks. His strong willed guise, much thinner than he thought, shatters into pieces and he finds himself too vulnerable to pick them back up. He’s so tired and weak from pretending that every time they touched, he was okay.

The words pool out before he can stop it, like current bursting through the surface. 

“It's not that I don't trust you, but I'm just— I'm just me.” It would be easier if he meant nothing to Yoo Joonghyuk. Yoo Joonghyuk could’ve lived a linear life where he achieved the peaceful end he deserved. He wouldn’t have to chase after something that would just make him suffer, he would’ve been so much happier. Instead, Kim Dokja’s desperation lead to a dreadful loop Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t escape, and simply summarizing it into a single sentence feels like a sin. Recounting it feels wrong, but being able to forget wouldn’t be fair to Yoo Joonghyuk either.

There are truths that don’t have to be known, and if Yoo Joonghyuk never knew of his origins, then he could’ve lived a better life. He’s said something similar before. He’s aware that he sounds like a broken record because this is all he knows. “I’m just a reminder of how cruel everything's been for you.”

“But you make me happy.” He says, with a naked emotion Kim Dokja hates, that he can’t help but crave for. Yoo Joonghyuk brings his forehead to Kim Dokja’s and it feels deliberate for an entirely different reason. It’s as if he means every word and wants Kim Dokja to feel it through all of his senses, to understand the meaning he doesn’t conceal. “I exist because of you.”

He can only sigh, hating how every touch makes his walls fall quicker. “You would be happier if you existed under different circumstances.”

“But I don’t,” it’s a truth as plain as day, but it doesn’t sting any less, “and I can’t change anything. I won’t either, so please.” He glides his hands to the back of Kim Dokja’s neck, giving it a soothing squeeze. Kim Dokja shudders and the reassuring pressure makes his eyelids grow heavy. “Please believe me.”

His request almost seems melodious, a song latching onto Kim Dokja’s heart and entire being that he has no choice but to obey. He takes everything in: the close scent of pine, the warmth of Yoo Joonghyuk’s skin, the wholeness of his voice— these beautifully mundane aspects he can’t help but relish in are resounding evidence that this is real. That Yoo Joonghyuk wants him too. “I know you like to overcomplicate things, but I simply like you. That's the easy truth. I'm just waiting for yours.”

His heart almost sings. “...Can it be that simple?”

Yoo Joonghyuk takes a shaky breath before replying. Maybe Kim Dokja’s sliver of hope ignited something within him. “If you want it to be.” The soft words tickle his lips. Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands lower to envelope Kim Dokja's, rubbing his knuckles in a way so tender that Kim Dokja wouldn’t mind closing the distance right now.

Although, the truth hasn’t fully sunk in yet.

“...Are you sure you weren't putting on an act?” To know that Yoo Joonghyuk was being transparent all this time makes him feel a little cheated. It was like preparing for a surprise attack and receiving a bouquet of flowers instead.

“I’ve been spelling it out for too long.” He feels Yoo Joonghyuk’s expression shift, but the short-term annoyance is replaced with something softer as Kim Dokja blinks his eyes open. This is the closest they’ve ever been and their breaths are practically mingling. Yoo Joonghyuk levels him with a ferocity in his gaze that almost burns his insides. 

The words that follow make blood rush to his veins. 

“Kim Dokja,” His voice buzzes, tone lethal and disarming, “you are precious to me. If I want to treat you that way, will you object?”

Kim Dokja always felt as if being in someone’s life was equivalent to overstaying. He hid himself away from the world because he didn’t have the capacity to love like humans should. He didn’t think anyone had the ability to love him back either. Love at its root is an emotion a person simply feels, but he’s the type of person whose thoughts overlap until they’re a tangle of strings. He believed that while it could be simple, he was not programmed to live in such a way. While it seemed lonely, at least he wouldn’t risk the heartbreak.

…But what if there was a better option?

Kim Dokja knows he’s not capable of loving, but it comes easy to him with a certain story. With a certain character. With a certain person. It’s true that Kim Dokja loves Yoo Joonghyuk, but if it’s true that Yoo Joonghyuk loves him back, does that untangle the complications of his mind? Is this an easier alternative he can simply take?

“I…” He finds himself replying without concluding his thoughts, because just like clockwork, his defenses are down. Everything’s been so difficult because Yoo Joonghyuk makes surrendering so tempting. 

Maybe falling in love with him was a losing battle from the beginning. “No,” he says, breathless amongst other things, “I won’t.”

The distance closes and their lips finally meet before moving in a slow and relishing rhythm. His thoughts go muddled and all he can think of is the warmth of Yoo Joonghyuk's mouth and how right this feels. It really was foolish to put up a fight if it meant missing this. Kim Dokja’s spine ends up flush with the chair’s backrest, and it creaks slightly from how Yoo Joonghyuk presses closer. He fails to hide his laughter at Yoo Joonghyuk’s vigor, and in retaliation, the latter nips at his bottom lip. He wants to slap him, but their hands are still intertwined. A new sort of bliss makes his fingers tingle to the point where they almost feel numb.

When the two separate with just enough space to talk, Yoo Joonghyuk speaks. “I already plan on living with you for the rest of my life, so get used to it.” With his mouth set in a cute pout, eyes glazed over, and hair ruffled– when did Kim Dokja do that? –   he can’t help but find him wonderfully endearing.

“I’ll try my best.” Kim Dokja responds, smiling easily. And he means it.