Chapter Text
Yoo Joonghyuk had gotten Kim Dokja figured out.
Mostly figured out. Partially, perhaps. Well, Yoo Joonghyuk at least knew with absolute certainty that Kim Dokja was an avoidant fool. The slippery squid had mastered squirming and bulshitting his way out of anything and everything, from scenarios that ring like death sentences to Yoo Sangah’s demands to know what time he retired to bed the previous night. A reassuring grin would sit on his prettily obnoxious face, and his eyes would shape themselves like unassuming crescents.
He would always look the most irritating like that, just before he told the rest of them a very obvious, yet somewhat still compelling lie. No, he would not get hurt from undertaking such a task. No, contrary to what everyone else thought, he apparently did eat a very hearty dinner before going to bed at a very appropriate time. No, he was not the one to find a permanent marker in an abandoned convenience store and plotted to doodle on Yoo Joonghyuk’s sword. No, he did not have another self-sacrificing plan that he was not willing to divulge until he’s already done the self-sacrificing.
The skittish bastard of a martyr was quite the annoyance. He cared excessively for anyone but himself, protecting his friends, keeping watch over his ducklings and finding an impossible number of ways to politely reject the company when they try to aid him in return.
While he was cursed to have such an idiotic companion by his side, Yoo Joonghyuk supposed that it was not the worst thing in the world. After spending a lot of time with the fool, he had discovered three workarounds that would go under the radar of someone as perceptive yet oblivious as Kim Dokja.
Unfortunately, none of them had anything to do with choking him or making very convincing threats with his fists.
No, such an unnecessarily complicated person as Kim Dokja could not be wrestled into compliance. He required an equally unnecessarily complicated solution. To Yoo Joonghyuk’s distaste.
“Kim Dokja,” he called stiffly, walking to stand behind the tattered loveseat that the other had parked himself in for a couple of hours now. His companion looked up with bleary eyes from where he had been fiddling with his phone and murmuring unintelligibly. A tired and small grin spread across his lips, as equally maddening as his usually wide, shit-eating expression.
“Yoo Joonghyuk,” he greeted in response, turning off his phone and slipping it into his white coat. While Yoo Joonghyuk was satisfied now that he had his full attention, he also found him immediately tucking his phone away highly suspicious. “Here to cause trouble?”
Yoo Joonghyuk gave him his most unimpressed look, but otherwise refused to acknowledge such a statement. They both knew who was the bigger troublemaker out of the two of them. “I am dumping leftovers from last night. I assume that you would suffice, just like any other trash can.” He then roughly dropped a plastic container in Kim Dokja’s lap, the kimchi rice plated messily and the lid strategically frayed and scratched by Yoo Joonghyuk’s knife about 10 minutes earlier.
Kim Dokja yelped and scrambled to catch the container before it could bounce off his thighs and land in an inedible heap on the floor. “What?”
“That is kimchi rice.”
“I-I know what it is, but—”
“So why did you ask?”
“I wasn’t asking about that , you sunfish—”
Before Kim Dokja could get a chance to form a coherent statement, Yoo Junghyook barrelled on, “It’s about to spoil. Eat it now. Or get food poisoning later. Either is good.” And then he walked away, leaving Kim Dokja to sputter confused sounds behind him.
It was not the best plan. When the seemingly ratty container is opened, anyone would be able to tell from the mouth-watering smell and the piping hot steam wafting from the dish that it was freshly prepared. But Yoo Joonghyuk also knew this for a fact: Kim Dokja would do all the fooling for him.
He was proven right when his near-inhuman ears caught grumbling from the loveseat, “Damn protagonist with maxed out cooking skills. Even his leftovers are perfect.”
Of course, the first way to get Kim Dokja to accept any form of goodwill was to pretend that it was done out of spite or indifference.
This went on for a few more days. Yoo Joonghyuk would make simple meals and plate them in seemingly haphazard, indifferent ways before tossing them in Kim Dokja’s general direction. The headache would squawk in confusion, demanding to know if he put anything foul in it or if this was some elaborate plan to blackmail him into doing him future favors. As it grew to be a more regular thing, though, Kim Dokja’s protests began to quiet a little. He only sometimes gave a raised eyebrow, mostly shouting a “Thank you for the food!” at Yoo Joonghyuk’s retreating back.
There was a certain satisfaction to entering the shoddy kitchen and seeing a pile of squeaky clean plastic containers piling up by the dryer. It was the kind of gratification that left him wanting more, the kind that propelled him to do more. The dishes didn’t stop, only increasing in frequency after Kim Dokja started smiling at him a lot more often.
Naturally, Yoo Joonghyuk let his guard down. Plain yet delicious meals of kimchi rice, stir fry and tteokboki evolved into slow roasts, risotto and even the occasional pastry.
Han Sooyoung once walked in on him preparing chocolate chip cookies, moulding the dough into the rough shape of a heart. She took a long look at the regressor who was frozen in place, determined not to make eye contact or say anything that would further incriminate him.
“You’re actually down bad,” she snickered in fake sympathy, slapping his back and leering at the tray full of chunky chocolate chip hearts. “Save me a few, unless you think your pride can recover from me tattling on you to the whole company.” As soon as she left, Yoo Joonghyuk hurriedly began smoothing the cookie dough into a less embarrassing round shape.
Perhaps he let himself get too carried away.
There was a second way to forcefully impose kindness on the Kim Dokja that would run away screaming before he ended up on the receiving end of affection. It was a bit more difficult than the first. But it did feel significantly more rewarding.
Because the second way was to fool Kim Dokja into thinking that he had conned Yoo Joonghyuk into doing him a favor. Instead of him setting it up so that Kim Dokja was forced to rely on Yoo J—on the company. A secret reverse uno, if you will. Convoluted yet surprisingly elegant.
It was not a plan that the impatient and sometimes artless gamer could orchestrate from scratch. However, he had a few meddling flies buzzing around Kim Dokja at all times. They may be annoying, but they did share the same goal when it came to their leader.
Their perpetually physically vulnerable leader. If not sleep-deprived (Yoo Sangah was working on that), malnourished (Yoo Joonghyuk was working on that) or dead (the whole company was working on that), he was pretending not to be injured.
… Yoo Joonghyuk swore he was working on that.
“Are they still behind us?” wailed Lee Hyunsung, his slightly panicked demeanour unbecoming of someone who had just punted a rabid kangaroo-demon hybrid about 10 meters into the reddening sky. It was only three in the afternoon. Why was it getting this dark? The constellations truly loved their unnecessary drama.
“Take a guess!” Jung Heewon, who was running a few paces in front of him, slashed down another one of the kangaroos who was aiming for her jugular. “If any of us manage to outrun these goddamn monsters, they may as well be the next Usain Bolt!”
“Who the heck is that?”
Jung Heewon ignored the question, occupied with trying to smite down a rather persistent kangaroo. It screeched in agony, before the wound around its belly started stitching itself up. It would’ve definitely been more bearable had there not been around 300 of them, Yoo Junghyook mused as he put a bit more strength into slashing one monster in half. It was instakill or nothing in this unfamiliar and, quite frankly, irritating sub-scenario.
Another scenario he had not encountered in his past lives. Another thing that Yoo Joonghyuk could safely accuse Kim Dokja of having a hand in. Said Kim Dokja was panting behind him as the whole team made a run for it, though it was clear that the sharp incline of the hill was taking a toll on him.
That, and the frequent sharp intakes of breath that indicated something in Kim Dokja’s legs was not working properly.
“Ahjussi,” panted Shin Yoosung. “I can try to tame another kangaroo for you to ride on!”
“I’m fine,” Kim Dokja stupidly insisted, dragging a yelling Lee Gilyoung swinging a broken hammer (Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t sure where he obtained such a weapon) and Shin Yoosung in front of him so he could protect their backs. He then deliberately slowed down his already anxiety-inducing pace that was definitely not about to reach the levels of Jung Heewon’s Usain Bolt. “You’ve seen the other get eaten by his comrades. But if you’re sure, s-sure you can tame one while running, you and Lee Gilyoung, hah, should get to ride it.”
“Ahjussi looks like he’s abou—”
“You can get on Yoo Joonghyuk’s back,” Han Sooyoung, the main meddling fly, suggested. She was gritting her teeth but trying to look as nonchalant as she could be to try and persuade Kim Dokja. It was not difficult to play it off as a whimsical suggestion; she was literally lying in the arms of one of her avatars. The poor avatar was as expressionless as Yoo Joonghyuk on his most neutral moods, even as its legs were fighting for its life. Yoo Joonghyuk pretended not to hear the conversation, busying himself with mashing two kangaroos’ heads together and kicking their bodies to the side. “He owes you for last time.”
“There’s no way he’s gonna agree to that!”
“What better way to piss him off then bring up an old favor?”
“Well, you do have a point, ah!” Kim Dokja hissed suddenly. The injury that Han Sooyouong prevented Shin Yoosung from pointing out was probably acting up. This scenario was really getting on Yoo Joonghyuk’s nerves. “I don’t really need his help, but it’s kind of unfair that you’re the only one who gets a free ride.”
“Master, to your left!” Oh, he was getting a bit distracted. He huffed in irritation, lacerating the kangaroo that was about to pounce on his shoulder and nodding to his disciple in thanks. He paused his running to pummel its crumpling body to the ground for good measure, giving Kim Dokja an opening to catch up to him.
“Hey, Yoo Joonghyuk! Remember that time, yeah that time, that you, uh, hah, that I had to carry you on my back?” Kim Dokja ducked to dodge a rather mean-looking punch from a monster that got too close. Its fist met Yoo Joonghyuk’s palm, before it too was launched in the unnecessarily dramatic dark sky. He grunted in acknowledgement, side-eying the shorter man scrambling to catch up beside him. “What say you repay that right now?”
Beating down the smugness that threatened to leak through his tone, Yoo Joonghyuk scoffed. “You can run just fine.”
With his dismissal being taken as disdain and the acknowledgement of Kim Dokja’s non-existent fine-ness, he lit up. All his hesitation about asking Yoo Joonghyuk for help melted away. The instinct to be a little piece of shit must have swallowed his indignance at leaning on someone other than himself.
“But Joonghyuk-ah,” he whined, dodging a kangaroo’s mangled corpse that must have been Lee Jihye’s doing. “I—” The cocky voice cracked and Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes flickered to Kim Dokja’s knee, which nearly gave way while the man was running. Putting on a show of rolling his eyes, he slowed down to sweep the man off his feet and unceremoniously toss him over his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around Kim Dokja’s legs and pinned them to his chest, ensuring Kim Dokja’s knee would not be jostled unnecessarily even as he ran.
“Ack! Gentle, gentle!” he complained, hands scrambling for purchase at the back of Yoo Joonghyuk’s shirt. It was actually quite convenient that he had someone literally watching his back, he mused as Kim Dokja grabbed the hilt of his sheathed dagger from his hip. The satisfying sound of a head lopping on the floor quickly followed. “Your stupid broad shoulders are digging into my gut.”
“Deal with it or I’ll drop you.”
“There’s no way this is as comfortable as the piggyback ride I gave you last time. What a scam!” Kim Dokja may be putting up a fuss, but another advantage of him busying himself with watching Yoo Joonghyuk’s back was that there was no way for the reader to see the soft upturn of his lips.
[Many Constellations are gasping loudly and causing an uproar.]
[The Constellation ‘Demonic Judge of Fire’ is having a nosebleed!]
[The Constellation ‘Demonic Judge of Fire’ demands close-ups of the face of Incarnation ‘Yoo Joonghyuk’.]
[The Constellation ‘Prisoner of the Golden Headband’ is demanding for the other Constellations to be silent.]
[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ resists the urge to put his head in his hands.]
[You have been sponsored 5000 coins.]
“Is Ahjussi gonna be okay?” Tears welled up in Shin Yoosung’s eyes, guilt weighing heavily on those tiny shoulders. She was hugging her arms tightly as if to comfort herself. Lee Gilyoung had parked himself by her side, gripping the white sheets that did little to reduce Kim Dokja’s shaking on the infirmary bed.
“Hyung’s gonna be fine,” he reassured stubbornly, his free hand reaching out to grasp Shin Yoosung’s trembling fingers. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“But Ahjussi took that hit for me, and now he’s not waking up!” she cried, some of her tears rolling down her cheeks as she dipped her head forward in an apology her sponsor couldn’t see.
Lee Seolhwa’s hand came to rest upon the young girl’s shoulders. “He will wake up after a few days’ rest, will be as good as new in a week,” she gently soothed. “It is a mild curse that would go away by itself, largely without treatment even.”
“Can’t he get better now?” frowned Yoo Joonghyuk, uncomfortable with how Kim Dokja’s bangs clung to his sweaty forehead. How his eyes remained closed even with his two ducklings begging for him to wake up. It was… discomfiting to see the man unable to hide his pain, especially in front of the two people he was most determined to fool.
“The curse’s strength lies in its fixed duration. While symptoms will persist no matter what, they are identical to a really high fever, not fatal at all. And can be somewhat alleviated,” added the doctor at the children’s dubious looks. “Kim Dokja just needs his rest, as do you two.”
Lee Gilyoung opened his mouth, a retort obviously on the tip of his tongue, before Lee Seolhwa pointedly looked at the various unknown substances covering their bodies and their torn clothes. He pursed his lips, but what really made him sigh in surrender was her more subtle glance towards Shin Yoosung. “We’ll come back to visit Hyung soon then,” Lee Gilyoung reluctantly released his grip on the sheets, pulling Shin Yoosung to her feet. “Let’s go.”
Shin Yoosung sniffled one last time, whispering a vow to make it up to him before the two scampered away.
“You too, Yoo Joonghyuk.”
He grunted in response, not really hearing her as his eyes were locked on the sleeping man’s face. Lee Seolhwa crossed her arms, tapping a finger to her chin appraisingly. Perhaps she saw something in the way that Yoo Joonghyuk hunched over his figure, his hands balled into fists, because she shook her head with a sigh.
“Do you know how to take care of a sick person?”
And that was how Yoo Joonghyuk found himself in the exact same position, but this time hunched over his own bed. He had gingerly carried Kim Dokja into his quarters, something in his chest twinging at how the unconscious man was practically deadweight in his arms.
What was he doing? He was not as qualified as Lee Seolhwa. What if Kim Dokja got better faster under the care of a more skilled physician? Despite these simmering thoughts, Yoo Joonghyuk cannot deny feeling more at ease at the sight of Kim Dokja swaddled in his blankets and resting on his soft pillow. It was at least more comfortable than the stiff infirmary beds.
Placing a hand to his forehead confirmed what he already knew from Lee Seolhwa’s thermometer. Running a high fever, sweat gathering at this temple despite his clammy and cold skin. Yoo Joonghyuk’s palm traced a path down to his cheeks, passing his neck and landing just above his heart. A slightly irregular heartbeat thrummed beneath his fingers. Weak, but at least it was there.
Kim Dokja was still here.
He had some knowledge of how to care for a sick person, both from his experiences with Yoo Mia and Lee Seolhwa’s comprehensive instructions. Nodding to himself, he unfolded the softest and smallest towel he could find in the complex before dunking it in a basin of cold water. He meticulously folded it back into a small rectangle, running his hands through his hair and pinning the inky black strands back with his hands before letting the towel fall on his forehead.
This was the third way to be good to Kim Dokja, and it was the most surefire way of them all. Kim Dokja must simply be unconscious, or made unaware of the company’s acts of devotion and care.
That night, and every night until Kim Dokja awoke, Yoo Joonghyuk fell asleep in the chair next to him.