Chapter Text
Kim Dokja built his life around the warm lighting of his sanctuary— The bakery. The humming of espresso machines, and the crushing noise of coffee beans as he ground it down to particles, gave him a semblance of control over what he thought was lost. Dokja's salvation when he could lose himself in the soothing rhythm of kneading the dough or the sizzle of a pan as he placed butter in the void (the black pan he loved scrubbing.)
But no amount of distractions could dull the pain in his chest. Kim Dokja thought he could run away from it all. A choice made in his younger years wasn't his fault, he was barely an adult! It never went away, he couldn't scrub the cries of his baby out, nor could he stab out of his mind the doctor's words as he repeated:
"Congratulations, Mr. Kim! It's a girl." Kim Dokja didn't want to think about his daughter's face as he held her in his arms. He didn't feel any parental love for her like he thought he would. A miracle would come, perhaps. All his feelings would come back, and maybe he could start new with Yoo Joonghyuk who was begging to be let in the labor room. All Dokja felt was the urge to remove the chains at his ankles that were digging into his bones. The heavy hand wrapped around his soul that cut off his breathing from one end to another. It engulfed him in his very own blood. He wanted to muzzle a part of his brain that wouldn't stop killing him every time he thought of what he had done. Yet, he couldn't stop. Kim Dokja was forced into therapy by Soo-young and to no avail, his mind turned towards another tragedy.
A dog that weeps after it kills is no better than a dog that doesn't. His guilt clawing at his rotting soul did not purify him. Dokja collected his misery to compensate, to prove that he was paying for the sins he committed. Leaving the love of his life behind. The sight of Joong-hyuk tearing up as he tried to soothe the newborn's cries— all while Dokja spared them one glance before running away—
It haunted him. How odd was it? to be haunted by someone still alive. Kim Dokja was haunting himself. He was his murderer, the victim, the watcher, and everything all at once. The door's bells jingled, pulling him out of his spiraling.
The bells jingled again, indicating the arrival of a certain kid who loved the sound of it. "ding-ding!", she called it. Kim Dokja gently put down his napkin, his lips were split in a grin before he could even control it. "Welcome in!"
He doesn't ignore how the little girl practically bounces along the multi-colored tiles. Her curls resembled somebody he knew more than anyone, her eyes crinkled the same way as dokja when she smiled— Or when she focused on what to buy, her brows furrowed together just like Yoo Joong-hyuk's. She always ended up buying the usual—strawberry cheesecake for herself, and an americano for her father. The man always chose to stay in his car, dokja wondered what kind of man made his six-year-old daughter go out to buy him such a brutal drink.
He also wondered how he was going to deal with his ghosts coming back in the form of a little girl who resembled the baby that he had abandoned. For now, he managed a soft smile, watching as the biyoo stared up at him. "Amerikano, ahjussi!"