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Kim Dokja is drinking alone.
It isn't the first time, but it feels novel, somehow. Drinking alone after the world has come to an end, sitting in front of a campfire beneath the gaze of the stars. All his recent memories of drinking alcohol come from the compulsory after-hours work functions at Minosoft, which he spent too busy trying not to make an utter fool of himself in front of his seniors while politely swallowing too much soju to enjoy.
Functionally, what he's doing now isn't much different, come to think of it. He's still using alcohol to facilitate a social exchange. But instead of it being with his coworkers, it's with a god. And instead of the setting being a cheap restaurant in the sweaty hours after a long day spent at the office, it's in a world that has fallen to ruin around him.
This setting suits Kim Dokja much better, he thinks.
He lifts his cup in mock toast to the heavens and tips the soju into his mouth.
Shimmering letters wrought of spilled alcohol shape themselves into a sentence on the ground.
Why did you send the pretty girl away?
Kim Dokja sighs. Drinking alone, but with the company of a nosy god's symbolic presence, he amends. But Kim Dokja is the only one drinking now, much to Dionysus's evident displeasure. His other companions have all gone to sleep.
Earlier, he and Yoo Sangah had been drinking together, the last ones still awake. She'd offered some incredibly useful insights about Dionysus's history during their conversation. And he had genuinely enjoyed her company. Part of him regretted his decision not to invite her to stay, to keep drinking away the night a while longer. The words had been on the tip of his tongue, paired with the sweet, clean flavor of soju.
But the more Dionysus urged them to drink, the more Kim Dokja thought about other times Yoo Sangah must have heard those words, in the same obligatory company functions as him. The older men at the company, leering over her. Smiling too much. Have another, Sangah-ssi. Do you need a ride home, Sangah-ssi? Her polite refusals. Her stolen bicycle.
So Kim Dokja had swallowed the words down like a shot. "You should get some sleep," he said instead.
His tone hadn't been unkind. But maybe some of the bitterness of his thoughts made its way into his voice, because Kim Dokja remembers how Yoo Sangah's expression fell just a little. (Another example of why he dislikes socializing, especially over drinks. He's too good at messing things up, saying the wrong thing.) Kim Dokja had tried to correct it by saying it had been a long day for everyone and reminding her that it's important to get enough rest.
The words rang hollow coming from him, who rarely slept before midnight even before the scenarios started, who showed up to work with bags under his eyes from long nights spent in novels, avoiding the places his mind went in the dark. But Yoo Sangah had smiled at him anyway, ever gracious.
"Thank you for worrying about me, Dokja-ssi. I'll go to bed first, then."
"See you in the morning."
And then she had joined the rest of the group in their bedrolls, and most of the festive atmosphere had departed with her.
You've spoiled the fun.
Dionysus, evidently, wasn't going to let the subject rest even if Kim Dokja refuses to acknowledge it, lost as he is in his own thoughts.
Wine without women is like a dance without music.
"Good thing I'm not drinking wine, then," Kim Dokja says to the letters on the ground. "It shouldn't matter as long as I keep drinking, right?"
The bubble letters begin to swirl again, but before they become legible, they pause, wavering like ripples on a pond. Then they morph into a new shape, as if Dionysus had changed his mind halfway through writing the message.
Well, it doesn't have to be women.
What?
Kim Dokja frowns at the spilled words, which curve across the dirt like a smile, mocking him. Probably better to just ignore that and keep drinking. Kim Dokja tips the soju bottle to refill his cup — and nearly spills it at the sound of a voice behind him, sudden and low.
"You have time for things like this?"
"Ah, Yoo Joonghyuk." Kim Dokja tries to recover his composure with a smile. "You're finally back." He hadn't heard Yoo Joonghyuk approach. Was he intentionally concealing his presence? How long had he been there? "It's not nice to sneak up on people, you know."
"You should pay attention to your surroundings instead of getting drunk."
"I'm not drunk." Not for lack of trying, but Kim Dokja barely even feels buzzed.
Yoo Joonghyuk's judgmental stare bores into the back of Kim Dokja's head. Kim Dokja rolls his eyes and sets down his cup. Belatedly, it dawns on him how strange it is that Yoo Joonghyuk is here, this late at night. He stands just out of reach of the fire's light, still in shadow. Kim Dokja squints at him. "Did you need something?"
"We should be preparing for the next scenario." He's sharpened the edge of disapproval in his tone into something that bites. His arms are folded across his chest, which makes them look even bigger. Somehow, it's a little annoying. No matter how much Kim Dokja invests in his stamina, he can't compare to Yoo Joonghyuk's physique.
Kim Dokja's eyes snap back up to his face. "That's what I'm doing."
Yoo Joonghyuk scowls. "I came here to discuss strategy, but if you consider this more important, then I'll plan things myself." He turns to leave.
Kim Dokja doesn't particularly care if he stays or goes, but the misunderstanding irritates him a little. He's trying to get drunk for a reason, after all. "Wow, do you really think so little of me that you honestly believe I'm just drinking for fun? I'm hurt, Joonghyuk-ah. I thought you trusted me more than that."
He says it with obvious sarcasm, but it still stings a little when Yoo Joonghyuk makes absolutely no effort to reassure him otherwise. Damn sunfish.
He does stop walking away, though.
"Why else." Yoo Joonghyuk's voice is flat.
"I'm trying to get to the underworld."
A beat of silence. Yoo Joonghyuk spends it glaring at him. "There are more efficient ways than drinking yourself to death."
Kim Dokja grins. "Are you offering to help me? How generous." Come to think of it, Yoo Joonghyuk had said their contract period was over...
At the way Yoo Joonghyuk turns on his heel, reaching into his coat, Kim Dokja hurries to add more before Yoo Joonghyuk really does send him to the underworld. "I'm trying to get there without dying, of course. According to… my divine friend here, there's a way to do it that requires consuming a lot of alcohol." He dips his head in the direction of the spilled soju, which forms the outline of a thumbs up.
Yoo Joonghyuk curls his lip. "The God of Wine and Ecstasy."
At the distant rumble of thunder on the horizon, Kim Dokja raises a finger to his lips. "In an unofficial capacity, of course. It would be pretty scandalous if such a high-ranking constellation interfered in the scenario and helped someone travel between realms, you know?"
Yoo Joonghyuk narrows his eyes. Kim Dokja can practically see his mind working it over like clockwork gears turning, weighing his strict hatred of the constellations against his reluctance to be left in the dark as to Kim Dokja's plans. Finally, Yoo Joonghyuk lets out a breath through his teeth. He steps into range of the fire's warmth and takes a seat, not quite close enough to be sitting with Kim Dokja, but not apart from him, either. "Fine," he says. "Explain."
Kim Dokja chuckles. He doesn't know if he should be flattered or insulted that Yoo Joonghyuk's mistrust for him is greater than his disdain for Dionysus. He wets his lips with another sip of soju before speaking. "If I told you it has to do with the promise I made to Shin Yooseung of the 41st round, would you help me?"
Yoo Joonghyuk goes very still. Something about his demeanor seems to crystallize, or freeze over. His focus is all on Kim Dokja now, razor-sharp, eyes trained on him in the same way that he might look at a drawn weapon or a lit fuse. The lines of the scowl in his face from before are gone, smoothed into an expression of singular intensity that Kim Dokja has only seen on sculptures. "Is it?" he says, slowly.
"If I say too much about it, it might compromise the plan," says Kim Dokja. "But yes. It is."
[The character 'Yoo Joonghyuk' has used 'Lie Detection Lv. 5.']
[Lie Detection has confirmed that your words are true.]
Kim Dokja hides his smile behind his cup. Always so meticulous, this guy.
"All right."
Kim Dokja blinks. He hadn't expected Yoo Joonghyuk to agree so easily. Maybe it's because he feels personally responsible for the fate Shin Yooseung suffered, in some way. Even if it had been Yoo Joonghyuk of the 41st regression who sent her back, the Yoo Joonghyuk of this turn had awakened the catastrophe early, and he had been so confident that she would help him like she had in the 2nd round. The path of a regressor is one carved through regret, after all.
"How do I… help?" Yoo Joonghyuk says the word like it doesn't fit right in his mouth, like fixing his lips to pronounce something in a foreign language. It's oddly endearing coming from someone who was threatening to kill him just moments ago.
Kim Dokja holds out an unopened bottle of soju. "Drink with me."
Yoo Joonghyuk gives him an unimpressed stare.
Dionysus rearranges the spilled liquid to say, Finally! Enough yammering. Drink, drink drink~
"You're fucking with me," says Yoo Joonghyuk.
"I'm not."
He's not ♪
[Lie Detection has confirmed that your words are true.]
Yoo Joonghyuk glowers at Dionysus's message like he's barely resisting the urge to kick dirt over it. He makes no move to take the bottle.
"Don't tell me your rule about not eating anything made by others extends to this," Kim Dokja laughs. He gives the bottle a shake, and its contents make a pleasant slosh. "Do you distill your own booze, or something?"
"Don't be an idiot," says Yoo Joonghyuk, and snatches the bottle away from him. Kim Dokja watches, smiling, as Yoo Joonghyuk pops it open and pours himself a cup. He eyes it with obvious distrust.
"It's not poisoned, if that's what you're thinking. Here, you can have some of the one I've already been drinking if you're that worried."
"I know that, fool." Yoo Joonghyuk shoots him a glare, then downs the contents of his cup in one quick motion. He grimaces right after. "This tastes cheap."
Kim Dokja feels a tug of irritation on Jung Heewon's behalf. "It's not nice to complain about free drinks, Joonghyuk-ah."
"Where did you even get this?"
"One of my companions sniffed it out." Kim Dokja nods to where Jung Heewon is snoring softly by the wall on the other side of the fire, her arm thrown over a sleeping Lee Hyunsung's chest. "There's beer, too. Or cider, if you prefer that."
Yoo Joonghyuk pulls a face at the same time as the alcohol on the ground forms the words, That won't do. Gotta be the good stuff.
Yoo Joonghyuk scoffs. "This hardly qualifies as good."
I liked the pretty girl better. This one is rude.
Yoo Joonghyuk's expression becomes a frightening vision of shadows in the firelight. Kim Dokja quickly refills Yoo Joonghyuk's cup, then tops up his own. "Um. Anyway. You said you came here to discuss the next scenario, right?"
Yoo Joonghyuk looks at him sideways, like he's expecting Kim Dokja to do something that justifies his suspicion at any moment. But, reluctantly, he takes another drink. And Kim Dokja drinks, too. The two fall into a not-quite-comfortable rhythm of trading information over cheap soju, with Yoo Joonghyuk giving Kim Dokja a dark look every time he pokes a hole in his plans. Dionysus continues to egg them on all the while — More, much more, drink like you mean it, let's party! — until Kim Dokja can feel a pleasant heat settling under his clothes and gathering high in his cheeks. He keeps catching himself talking a little too loud, smiling a little too easily at Yoo Joonghyuk's presence.
It's surprisingly nice, picking apart the upcoming scenarios with Yoo Joonghyuk. Strategizing. Until now, the only other person he's talked to who has known what lay ahead was Han Sooyoung, and she clearly had no respect for the source material of TWSA given how often she got the details wrong. Yoo Joonghyuk is hardly eager to collaborate with him, and in fact seems to be on the verge of crushing his cup every time Kim Dokja opens his mouth. But little by little, he shares what he knows. Peaceland. Asuka Ren. Who is best suited for the teams they send in to start. Who should go later. Yoo Joonghyuk has been through this twice before, and he attacks it this time with military precision. Kim Dokja can't help but admire how his mind works, even if it's a little cute how he thinks he can get everything to go his way. Yoo Joonghyuk of the earlier regressions seemed almost naive, compared to how he wound up after a hundred, a thousand tries. Still a human.
Kim Dokja finds his mind wandering to the words Yoo Sangah spoke earlier. Don't worry. Joonghyhuk-ssi isn't a bad person.
He pours himself another drink.
Dionysus draws swirls on the ground around their cups, which Yoo Joonghyuk scowls at. His expression makes Kim Dokja snort with laughter, the brief knot of unease that had taken hold in his chest loosening instantly.
The more they carry on, the less Yoo Joonghyuk speaks, opting instead to let Kim Dokja drive the conversation while he mostly listens. There's a touch of pink in Yoo Joonghyuk's cheeks that Kim Dokja's mind can't help but think of as pretty. The way that the firelight catches in his eyes makes Kim Dokja's face feel warm. Well, it would be weirder if he didn't notice how attractive Yoo Joonghyuk looks in this situation. He has eyes, after all. Even totally sober, it takes effort to ignore that damn protagonist glow he has.
Kim Dokja can't help but be amazed at how much Yoo Joonghyuk looks just like what he used to picture for all those years.
They lapse into a moment of silence. Kim Dokja glances over. Their eyes meet. Kim Dokja looks away, his stomach doing a funny little flip. He drinks some more soju, and he can feel Yoo Joonghyuk's gaze on him as his throat bobs with every swallow. It goes down smooth.
It might be his imagination, but the more he drinks, the better the soju seems to taste. He wonders if Yoo Joonghyuk has noticed it, too. "Hey. Joonghyuk-ah. This soju is actually pretty good, isn't it?"
Yoo Joonghyuk doesn't answer.
"I've never really been much for drinking," Kim Dokja rambles on, "but the taste isn't that bad. I never noticed how—"
“Kim Dokja.” Yoo Joonghyuk cuts him off. His voice is low and strange, and closer than before. Kim Dokja turns his head and— oh. Yoo Joonghyuk’s face is right there. When did he get so close? Kim Dokja is rooted to the spot, just staring at those damn beautiful protagonist features mere inches from his own, and it takes him a second to realize Yoo Joonghyuk is speaking again.
“What… did you do?”
“...Sorry?”
"The soju. You did something to it." Yoo Joonghyuk's eyes burn with the accusation. "To... me." He looks pissed. Beyond pissed, even. He always looks like he's one minor inconvenience away from committing homicide, but there’s a wildness in his expression now, something like desperation, that Kim Dokja has never seen in him before. It's his eyes, Kim Dokja realizes. They look so much darker than usual. Yoo Joonghyuk's pupils have grown huge enough to almost eclipse his irises. This close, Kim Dokja can see each individual eyelash, can watch the spiderleg shadows they cast on Yoo Joonghyuk’s face in the dancing firelight. He has the sudden urge to reach out and touch, to merge their shadows, just for a moment.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips move. His voice scrapes its way out of his throat. “What did you…” His gaze flicks lower on Kim Dokja’s face and he just. Stares. Something about the way he's looking at Kim Dokja is making it hard not to laugh. A bubbly feeling rises in Kim Dokja’s chest. He smiles, just a little, but the effect is immediate and devastating. Yoo Joonghyuk stiffens like he’s been stabbed, inhales sharply and holds it. He’s still staring. It’s fun to watch the minute changes in his facial expression this close, Kim Dokja thinks. Even if the buzz of alcohol is muddling his thoughts too much for him to verbalize anything he’s observing. It’s just… nice. Being this close to Yoo Joonghyuk. His breath is soju-sweet. Kim Dokja's is probably no different. He makes a sound that's not quite a laugh and leans in just a fraction closer without really meaning to.
Yoo Joonghyuk does the same. He turns his head to one side and Kim Dokja feels a warm calloused hand brush against his jaw. Yoo Joonghyuk’s face is so close. His lips part. The inside of his mouth is dark and pink. The distance between them shrinks from the size of a breath, to less than that, to nothing. And then…
Kim Dokja is being kissed. He doesn’t know which one of them started it, but his lips are on Yoo Joonghyuk’s, and everything is warm.
It’s so easy. Their lips fit together like it’s the easiest thing in the world, like falling into a dream. The floating feeling in Kim Dokja’s chest spreads outward and fills him from his fingertips to the edges of his tingling lips where Yoo Joonghyuk is kissing his mouth open. He tastes like soju and sunshine and something uniquely indescribable that Kim Dokja’s intoxicated brain can only categorize as Yoo Joonghyuk. Kim Dokja wants more.
Distantly, some part of him recognizes the ping of indirect messages popping up. Annoying. He wishes he could shut off anything outside of this wonderful sensation of warm lips against his own and the firm body pressing against his front. Every point of contact is like electricity lighting up his nerves. His body sings with it. A tongue swipes against his bottom lip, and Kim Dokja moans.
He never knew being kissed could feel so good. He’d read about it, sure, but this was… this… Kim Dokja’s thoughts stumble over each other, fall down, and don’t bother to get up again. He doesn’t need to think right now. He needs to touch, to taste, to feel more of this, all of this wonderful contentment wrapped around his body and his mind that's lifting him higher with every increasingly hungry press of those lips against his own.
The indirect messages continue. Kim Dokja feels lightheaded with how giddy he is. It’s a weird combination of floating out of his body and feeling more grounded in the moment than he’s ever been. His cup slips from his fingers at some point and spills on the ground. Kim Dokja doesn’t care. With his hand free, he can thread his fingers into soft curls and pull closer, deeper. More.
The weight on his chest finally pushes him onto his back on the ground, where he lands with a huff, the kiss momentarily broken. Someone laughs. It might’ve been him. Then that delicious hot mouth is on his neck, sucking and biting, and the laugh turns into a quiet moan. Feels so good. He might have said it aloud. There are hands on his chest. Kim Dokja bares his throat to make room for more of those spine-tingling kisses. His eyes drift open lazily (when had he closed them?), and he catches the glint of the spilled soju in the firelight. The soju seems to shimmer and glow, forming long tendrils that remind Kim Dokja of Ariadne’s threads.
The sight stirs something in the haze of his memories. That’s right. The alcohol. And Yoo Sangah. He’d been drinking with her for… some reason that didn’t seem nearly as important as the teeth grazing against his pulse point, holy shit, that was heavenly. And then she’d left, and Yoo Joonghyuk had…
Wait.
Yoo Joonghyuk?
Kim Dokja tries to focus through the drunken hum of his pulse in his ears and the pleasurable feeling of a hickey being sucked onto his neck. Yoo Joonghyuk had come to talk with him about… ooh, that felt nice. No, no, wait. The plan. The strategy. Because he needs to get to the underworld, and to do that, he needs the help of a certain god. A god of…
Kim Dokja’s eyes land on the spilled soju glowing warmly on the ground.
Wine and ecstasy.
He blinks.
Oh, shit.
The shrill sound of a system notification cuts through the haze clouding Kim Dokja's mind like a sword strike from Cheok Jungyeong. He is abruptly and decidedly sober all at once, like someone just dunked his head in ice water. He looks down. The sight that greets him is —
“Oh my god.”
Yoo Joonghyuk. The Yoo Joonghyuk, that Yoo Joonghyuk, the one who’s been occupying Kim Dokja’s imagination for the past ten years, is currently on top of Kim Dokja and is absolutely going to town on his neck, layering wet kisses over the sensitive skin there. Kim Dokja’s shirt is halfway unbuttoned. Yoo Joongyuk’s hand has found its way under the fabric, blazing hot against Kim Dokja’s bare chest. His tongue is — Yoo Joonghyuk’s tongue is (Kim Dokja’s brain is short circuiting) — laving over the spot where Kim Dokja’s neck meets his shoulder, where his open shirt has been pulled down enough for Yoo Joonghyuk to leave a trail of bitemarks on his skin that Kim Dokja can feel more than he can see. The tongue that was in his mouth just a minute ago.
He gets another system notification from the Fourth Wall that he doesn't even see.
“Y-Y-Yoo Joonghyuk!” Kim Dokja makes a choking sound. He can't breathe. He thinks he might actually die this time. His hands flail for an uncoordinated second, then grab Yoo Joonghyuk’s face and pull him up from Kim Dokja’s neck, covering his mouth to stop that damn tongue from doing any more sinful things to his throat. “Stop!”
Yoo Joonghyuk just blinks up at him in a daze, eyes dark and unfocused. His cheeks are (god help him) prettily flushed and his eyelids are heavy. Kim Dokja’s heart honest-to-god skips. He starts babbling. “Dionysus’s presence must have made everything get all weird, sorry, I'm really— I should’ve paid more attention and warned you abou—” Kim Dokja cuts off with a startled squeal when Yoo Joonghyuk’s tongue touches his palm. Did this bastard just fucking lick him? Kim Dokja jerks his hand back like he’s been burned. Yoo Joonghyuk adjusts so he’s leaning over Kim Dokja, his weight heavy and warm and his goddamn beautiful face hovering over Kim Dokja’s and stealing his breath away and his lips are so close and oh my god he’s going to kiss me again, he’s going to kiss me, he’s going to—
Kim Dokja headbutts Yoo Yoonghyuk with all his might.
Their foreheads collide with a sickening crack. Stars explode behind Kim Dokja’s eyes. The pain is intense, but it stops Yoo Joonghyuk in his tracks, the hand that had been in Kim Dokja’s shirt flying to his forehead. He snarls. “Kim Dokja, you—”
Kim Dokja can see the instant that awareness returns to Yoo Joonghyuk, like he's been hit with a thunderbolt. He goes completely stiff. A muscle in his jaw jumps. Kim Dokja doesn’t think he’s ever been so relieved to see that familiar look of murderous rage on Yoo Joonghyuk’s face. Anything besides the bedroom-eyes come-hither look from earlier that Kim Dokja won’t ever be able to get out of his mind no matter how many blows to the head he receives.
There's a strained, hyperventilating laugh in Kim Dokja's voice. “Oh, good, you’re back to normal." His face is burning hotter than the flames of Igneel and he absolutely cannot bring himself to look Yoo Joonghyuk in the eye, but at least he put an end to things before they got any worse. If the impact hadn't been enough to knock some sense back into Yoo Joonghyuk, he doesn't know what he would've done. Probably kill himself. Maybe he still should.
Yoo Joonghyuk… says nothing. He seems to be frozen. He’s still on top of Kim Dokja. Kim Dokja doesn’t even want to imagine what's going through his head. He’s probably pissed enough to level the entire city after… that. And Kim Dokja is likely to be his first target.
The indirect messages have been going wild for some time, but Kim Dokja is too overwhelmed with everything that is Yoo Joonghyuk flooding his senses to pay them any mind — his musky scent, his heady taste, the sensation of his wet lips still lingering on Kim Dokja's skin, on his own lips, the blazing heat of Yoo Joonghyuk's body clinging to him, the solid weight of him pressing down on Kim Dokja's lower half—
He manages to shove Yoo Joonghyuk off him and scurry away, like escaping out from under a beam in a burning building. Yoo Joonghyuk lands on his side and just… stays there, for some reason. Kim Dokja doesn’t have time to think about it. He very much wants to avoid thinking about anything at all related to Yoo Joonghyuk right now.
“Dionysus.” Kim Dokja’s voice cracks. He clears his throat and tries to keep the desperation under control. “You’ve had your fun, so take me to the goddamn underworld already.”
The spilled soju rearranges itself into golden words floating in the air. Kim Dokja doesn’t even bother reading them. “Now,” he says, and the words reluctantly unravel.
At this, Yoo Joonghyuk finally reacts. “...Kim Dokja.” He sounds dangerously calm.
The sound of his name makes Kim Dokja flinch. “Sorry, Yoo Joonghyuk, no time to, uh, talk right now. I’ll… fix everything when I get back."
"…You're running away?”
Kim Dokja hastily fixes his clothes. "The connection to the underworld won't last long," he croaks. His voice sounds ridiculous, even to him.
"Wait."
“Please don't," he swallows hard. Hate me. "Kill anybody."
“I said—”
A sudden wave of vertigo hits Kim Dokja. It feels similar to the drunkenness from earlier, only multiplied several times over. He sways, vision blurring. "Sorry.” He hears his voice as if from outside himself. The last thing he thinks before he loses consciousness is that he probably should have expected that a trip to the underworld would feel like dying.
Kim Dokja passes out cold, leaving Yoo Joonghyuk surrounded by a half dozen bottles of alcohol, a mess of spilled soju, and the quiet sleep-breathing of their companions, blissfully unaware, from the other side of the fire.
Yoo Joonghyuk runs a hand over his face.
"...Fuck."