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The signs started a week ago.
⸢“Joonghyuk-ah, we don’t have to do it that way anymore.” Kim Dokja scratched the back of his neck, before reaching into Yoo Joonghyuk's coat pocket and scooping the contents into a basket. “You’re going to rip your coat at this rate. It’s not like you’ve got infinite space—”
Actually, he might still. Kim Dokja was emptying Yoo Joonghyuk's pockets into the grocery basket and nearby sections for as long as he was speaking. Ginger, ginger, garlic… Ginger…
They’d been in the produce section of a little market for about five minutes, and somehow, Yoo Joonghyuk already managed to stock up for a harsh northern winter.
Yoo Joonghyuk stopped trying to stuff his pockets, but he still returned all the ginger to the basket.
“I need it.”⸥
The dodgy sentences.
The suspicious actions.
At first, Kim Dokja tricked himself into believing that was just how Yoo Joonghyuk was. Naturally, after getting together, Kim Dokja still had much to learn about Yoo Joonghyuk. Maybe Kim Dokja was just still getting used to him again.
But he should’ve known. Had he not doubted his knowledge of the protagonist—
Maybe Yoo Joonghyuk wouldn’t have gone missing.
Or, rather…
“Joonghyuk-ah! You must be in there. Open up!”
Kim Dokja knocked on Yoo Joonghyuk's bedroom door.
The KimCom house had been rather quiet lately. Everyone had their lives to live, that was to be expected. But Yoo Joonghyuk’s sudden disappearance?
Three days.
Perhaps during the scenarios, this behaviour would be better anticipated, but now…
Well, that wasn't to say Kim Dokja had to know Yoo Joonghyuk's every move. Obviously not. He had his own life to live, too. It wasn’t Kim Dokja’s right to have to be updated of every damn thought in the bastard’s head, but…
“Yoo Joonghyuk—”
There was a creak, and instead of the hard wood of the door, Kim Dokja’s knocking fist hit something far more firm and built.
Yoo Joonghyuk had not been missing.
He had been on the brink of death, and his throat was too sore to call for help.
Now, he sat at the foot of his bed with the atmosphere of a sopping wet, defeated dog as Kim Dokja stood before him.
Yoo Joonghyuk forced his hands to remain in his lap as he raspily started, “You should not be here. If it’s contagious—”
“It’s a cold.”
“It will—”
“You’ve personally witnessed that it takes a lot more than a cold to kill me,” Kim Dokja scoffed and stepped closer. “But you…”
The back of Kim Dokja's palm pressed against Yoo Joonghyuk's forehead, his lips settled in a tight line. Perhaps it was a side effect of locking himself up for three days that Yoo Joonghyuk's hand found itself on the small of Kim Dokja's back, despite the potentially contagious virus.
Kim Dokja’s jaw dropped. The back of his hand pressed against Yoo Joonghyuk's cheek. His jaw. His neck. Yoo Joonghyuk's eyes squinted with the slight force of Kim Dokja's hand all over his face, hand tightening on the back of Kim Dokja's shirt.
It was more surprising that at this rate, Yoo Joonghyuk wasn't steaming.
“Dammit, did you really do nothing but lock yourself in your room? Fucking sunfish—”
Kim Dokja wiped the corner of Yoo Joonghyuk's lips with his thumb.
Yoo Joonghyuk didn't feel the need to complain about that. However, there was something else that was far worse.
Another spoonful of soup nudged Yoo Joonghyuk's mouth open. The stiff muscles of his grimace severely understated the sour taste of the ginger soup, yet it was also the most expressive the man had been in a month.
Kim Dokja’s frown deepened.
“Just because it was me who made it doesn't mean it's not food. I won’t poison you.”
He failed to understand that Yoo Joonghyuk's issue wasn't that it was food made by someone else.
No, it…
Yoo Joonghyuk coughed. “...You can call this food?”
Kim Dokja didn't say anything, yet his eyes narrowed, his bottom lip twitching into an even bigger frown. ‘Dramatic’.
Rather aggressively, he fixed the blanket around Yoo Joonghyuk's shoulders, effectively trapping his arms and making him sweat. Then, he picked up another spoonful. “This is the ginger you bought, remember?”
“This is wasteful.”
“It’s good for you. It’ll kill the virus in your throat.”
“...”
“Ah, you’ve definitely eaten worse. Joonghyuk-ah. This is hurting my feelings.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice was too sore to argue, but it was arguably worse than even hammer seahorse mucus.
Kim Dokja sighed. “Don’t you want to get better no matter what? Before you get me sick. Eat.”
It was only for that reason that Yoo Joonghyuk still tolerated the soup, but it was like watching a handsome fish blubbering outside of water.
A soft hand swiped the sweaty hair off Yoo Joonghyuk's forehead and dabbed away at the corner of his lips. After a few more spoons, Yoo Joonghyuk was steadily drinking the bites Kim Dokja fed him.
Kim Dokja’s eyes weren't so angry and squinty and even though Yoo Joonghyuk was approaching his deathbed, his lips settled in a faint grin.
Fool.
He thought Yoo Joonghyuk was cute, didn't he?
Yoo Joonghyuk was going to say something when Kim Dokja suddenly clicked his tongue.
“When you got sick during Ways of—during the scenarios, shouldn’t it have been worse than this? Why are you suddenly so…sick?”
“The medicine no longer exists.”
“Ah…”
Of course, Yoo Joonghyuk would’ve tried. But the methods he knew died in a past world.
Back then, something else entirely drove him forward each day. There weren’t many real ‘sick days’—Yoo Joonghyuk could not give up like that. Moreover, most illnesses from the nature of the scenarios usually had a direct, specific treatment.
Kim Dokja’s voice fell softly on the dinner table, as gentle as the snow piling on the window sill.
“Then…Perhaps just the weather got to you.”
Another spoonful of the ginger soup approached Yoo Joonghyuk's lips. His nose was beginning to run, yet slowly, he began thinking this normal they lived for wasn’t so bad.
Then, Kim Dokja ruffled his hair.
…It still wasn't that bad.
‘Yoo Joonghyuk was missing.’
This time, it was true for about one hour.
Kim Dokja checked the washroom. Under the bed. Under the three blankets he had given Yoo Joonghyuk.
He was nowhere, until Kim Dokja was running through the living room, and caught a glimpse of the front yard.
“Yoo Joonghyuk?! You don’t have cold resistance anymore!”
Kim Dokja’s running shoes, soaked, sank into the snow. They weren't proper for the weather, but they were the pair most nearby when he ran outside.
Yoo Joonghyuk was standing in his pajamas in the middle of their snowy yard.
Kim Dokja tossed the black coat over those broad shoulders and joined him before the scene became pathetically lonely. He was even holding a scarf. Yet, he had neglected to bring his own sweater and shivered by Yoo Joonghyuk's side.
“What the shit…” Kim Dokja bunched up the scarf and hugged his own arms. Had his hands not been preoccupied staying warm under his armpits, he would’ve been tiredly pinching his nose. “Why are you out here? Let’s go back inside. Yoo Joonghyuk. Yoo Joonghyuk, you’re sick—”
Kim Dokja looked up from where he shuddered beside Yoo Joonghyuk only for Yoo Joonghyuk to already be staring at him.
Suddenly, Yoo Joonghyuk held the coat open. Kim Dokja stepped between his arms, arms snaking around Yoo Joonghyuk's back, while Yoo Joonghyuk wrapped the coat around the two of them.
The space wasn't infinite, it really wasn't, but it was enough.
“We have to go back inside.”
“Mm.”
“Your fever is going to get worse."
"Mm...It is already bad."
"Did you come out here because you felt hot? Let’s head back, I’ll give you a damp—”
“No. I am here for the snow.”
“Damp… damp cloth… What?”
“The snow.”
Kim Dokja meant to look up then, but Yoo Joonghyuk's face had all but plummeted into his shoulder.
“...I want to stay in the snow.”
In all fairness, just when had Yoo Joonghyuk ever gotten the chance to even acknowledge the snow?
Maybe a few times. Maybe with Yoo Mia. Or the companions. It was easier during the scenarios too, with the cold resistance. But now…
The former regressor had all the time he wanted.
What was he to do with it?
Lay in bed, sick?
Kim Dokja shut his eyes and sighed.
Something warm and thick wound itself all the way around Yoo Joonghyuk's neck and even his face. The scarf—was it one of the ones Kim Dokja had made for KimCom in the few months after he woke up?
The feverish man could hardly hold himself up as Kim Dokja draped his heavy arm over his own shoulders and led them back into the house.
Dragging their feet, they made it to Yoo Joonghyuk's room. Kim Dokja pushed him down onto the bed before getting in next to him, snuggled under all three blankets.
“You’ll catch my cold.”
Neither of them were surprised when Yoo Joonghyuk's voice turned out even raspier. It couldn't even be considered hot anymore, just concerning.
Kim Dokja's eyes softened.
Yoo Joonghyuk thought the expression made it look like he couldn't form thoughts by himself, but seeing it, he felt…Warm, and not in a sick way.
Kim Dokja huffed, a smile tugging at his lips.
Suddenly, he tugged Yoo Joonghyuk close, arms looping around his shoulders to press Yoo Joonghyuk's head against his chest.
“Bastard. I’m already freezing.”
When Yoo Joonghyuk woke up, Kim Dokja was not by his side. Not physically, at least. But there was a yellow sticky note on the bedside table.
Apparently, he’d gone out to buy more ginger for his dreaded yet all-powerful concoction. For now, however, a substitute bowl sat next to the sticky note, and a new companion rested outside his window sill.
A near-perfect snowball with a little horn smiled through the window as Yoo Joonghyuk picked up the soup.
Hot and sweet.
The taste matched his favourite one in the world.