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Kim Dokja dreams, sometimes.
On the nights when Lee Seolhwa isn’t there to keep watch over his bedridden self, he’d sneak a look at his phone to read. The story that Han Sooyoung had written for him, the side stories that followed, and the snippets everyone else wrote that may or may not have been entirely accurate against real occurrences—these stories kept him company well into the night, until all the lights were off and he’s only left with moonlight and distant city lights.
Whenever he slept late, he’d occasionally find disjointed pieces of his dreams in the morning. Himself, watching over a train filled with memories; Yoo Joonghyuk, cooking food that he’ll refuse to share until he’s bribed into it; Han Sooyoung, bantering with him with a lemon candy in her mouth.
Tonight, he dreams of himself, but not really.
This “him” is young. He still has the baby fat in his cheeks, though his face feels rounder than Kim Dokja ever remembers his own being. His younger self’s eyes are brighter too, cheeks flush with health, and his smiles reach up to his eyes.
Even more unfamiliarly, he rounds his mouth with the word “ahjussi” while calling out to someone Dokja has only ever known as Yoo Joonghyuk, or, that bastard.
“Ahjussi, do you think we could ever keep a dog?” his younger self asks.
“...what kind?” Yoo Joonghyuk of the 1863rd round says. He’s just as handsome as his Yoo Joonghyuk, but the difference is stark for someone who’s followed his story for so long; he’s taller, more muscular, and his cheek is scarred. His Yoo Joonghyuk of the 1864th round doesn’t have such scars on his face, but then, he has more slivers of silver in his hair than this so-called ahjussi.
This Yoo Joonghyuk too, does not say “no,” nor does he ask, “why,” in that blunt way his Yoo Joonghyuk would have. Instead, he adds, “Would you want a small one?”
“I don’t care about the size,” his younger self says. “If it doesn’t go against probability, it should be fine to ask for one, right?”
“You don’t need to consult probabilities for a dog.”
“Don’t I? Isn’t that something you all work with still, ahjussi? That’s how you’re able to find and keep jobs even in my world, right?”
“...let’s discuss this with the others later, Dokja-yah.”
“Hmm, okay, ahjussi.”
Warm brightness behind his eyelids stop him from pursuing the dream any further. The culprit? His curtains, letting in streaks and speckles of sunlight.
He’s sure Seolhwa will be disappointed if she ever finds out he missed out on the healthy, eight full hours prescribed to him.
Whuff.
The audible sneeze takes him out of his thoughts. Had he been more awake, he’d have probably jerked away on reflex, but as things stand—he’s far too bleary-eyed and dazed from sleep to react properly.
When he looks down to the side of his bed, he finds a pair of dark brown eyes looking at him.
Particularly, a black-furred, silver-streaked dog’s dark brown eyes.
He squints.
The dog squints right back.
What.
“What?” he mumbles, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Whose dog..? How did you get in?”
He gets a quiet “woof” in response. It’s just sitting at his bedside, ears perked as it—he? She?—watches over him like a quiet guardian.
“Are you a good dog?” he asks, holding out a hand for it to sniff. On any other day, he might not have attempted to even get close to the dog; it’s way too embarrassing to try and communicate with an animal only to get rebuffed, after all.
But he has his own room in Lee Seolhwa’s hospital, and, well, it’s worth a shot. Maybe.
The dog, in a surprising move, doesn’t bother to sniff his hand as it does just push his head up against Dokja’s palm. Is it asking for pets..?
Dokja obliges with a cautious hand, gently rubbing his palm over that wide head and curling his fingers to scratch against soft ears.
The dog makes a little sneezing sound again, before rubbing its head more aggressively against his palm. Pets it is, then.
It doesn’t take long after a series of pets before the dog seems to gain the confidence to ask for more—half-climbing his way up Dokja’s bed, wet nose rubbing against his stomach and lap as though trying to sniff his entire scent off of him. He finds himself smiling before he can help it; he’s never had the same attribute as Lee Gilyoung or Shin Yoosung to be able to communicate with non-human creatures, so to have a dog willingly seeking his affection means a lot.
He’s just Kim Dokja now, no longer the Oldest Dream watching over the world to ensure its existence, and this Kim Dokja, well…
He knows in his heart that he’s loved. He knows, but that doesn’t mean he fully understands. He’s grateful, ashamed, happy, and everything in between—because he’s loved, he could return. But because he’s loved, his loved ones had to suffer for his sake.
He can’t help from feeling guilty at the cost of their love for him.
But It’s different with animals, and dogs like this one.
A dog has a higher likelihood of seeking affection regardless of your identity. It wouldn’t have mattered what he did, or what he could do for this dog—without rhyme or reason, without thinking of him as a savior or someone to save, it would have sought out just about anyone’s warmth.
As the black dog in front of him successfully hops onto his bed, he can’t help from thinking about how true this is, with the way it—he, it seems, given the dangling organ below—practically flops with its entire weight down onto his lap.
“...you’re rather affectionate, aren’t you? Even though you looked kind of scary at first glance,” Dokja murmurs, dragging dull nails to scratch along the back of the dog’s head. “Maybe I should name you Yoo Joonghyuk.”
The dog seems to perk up at the name, entire body going taut as it rears its head back to stare at him intently.
“Do you know Joonghyukie?” he questions, lips twitching further into a smile when that black tail thumps audibly against his bed with its wagging. “I don’t know much about dogs, but going by your wagging tail…you must like him, huh. Isn’t it too typical that such a grumpy-looking bastard could have a soft spot for animals?”
Whuff.
The dog actually seems to scoff at him, the way he huffs out a breath while turning his head away.
Wow, Joonghyuk-ah. You got yourself a fan even in a dog, huh?
“It wasn’t an insult. I’m just saying that it’s unsurprising that you like him,” he chuckles, reaching out a hand to rub between the dog’s ears again. Those brown eyes squint as though doubting him—which, this is a new low even for him—before closing again with a sneeze.
He’d wonder if there were any strong smells in his room making the dog sneeze, but the dog slumps back into Dokja with his whole weight far too quickly for him to follow that line of thought.
“Oof, you’re heavy,” he complains half-heartedly, tucking the dog carefully into his side. What an odd, overly affectionate dog. Were all dogs like this, or was this a special case? The dog is even going so far as to nuzzle into him, wet nose dragging against his chin, and…
He’s not much of a man for sentimentality, but he thinks he understands why people love dogs so much, given this dog’s treatment of him.
“You’re a nice dog,” Dokja sighs. He uses his free hand to adjust the bed, raising the upper half so they can both rest against it without lying flat on their backs. The dog shifts and Dokja worries if he’s scared him away with the sudden movement, until he notices that the dog is just adjusting himself to curl against his side, head resting right on his lap.
He clears his throat. “Uh, should I just call you Hyuk? What do you think, Hyuk-ah?”
A wagging tail is his answer, thumping against his bed in its eagerness.
He laughs. What an agreeable dog, completely unlike the guy he’s named after. “Hyuk it is. You’re much cuter than your namesake, though he does have his moments.”
Woof!
“Don’t you have an owner..? But then, if you did, they’re probably just somewhere in the building,” he muses. He grabs his phone from the bedside table, promptly opening up KaTalk and trying to come up with a message—
Only to pause seeing the large, brown, puppy-like eyes looking up at him.
He lowers his hand, notices the dog’s tail wagging with each inch of movement, and smiles. How cute. “If…you have an owner and they really want you back, they’d already be looking for you, huh..? Then, what do you say to staying with me for a bit?”
Whuff.
That wet nose nuzzles against his stomach, making him burst into a giggle on reflex. Ugh, how embarrassing. It’s a good thing no one else is around to have heard it. “Ahem. Then, I’ll keep you company for now, okay? Good boy.”
He gets what sounds like joyful panting; he’s no dog expert, but with the way that serious expression on the dog’s face suddenly makes way for what looks like a smile, tongue lolling out and all, he can hazard a guess that he’s feeling pleased with himself.
Dokja’s eyes wrinkle at the corners with fondness.
“A very, very good boy.”
His company (if he could still call it that) takes the dog’s presence surprisingly well when they find him in Dokja’s room. With the exception of a few—
(“You sure you don’t want me to get rid of him?” Sooyoung had asked.
Gilyoung, with surprising vehemence, had agreed with her. “We can take the dog away if it ever makes you feel uncomfortable, hyung!”
“Ah, no, it’s fine…”)
The vast majority had been happy—entertained, even—with the idea of keeping the dog.
(Uriel, when she called while on tour, had been near ecstatic when he made mention of keeping the dog. She’d practically shrieked when he called the dog a good boy too; it was just a relief that the dog remained calm through all of that.)
He supposes it would be nice to keep a pet around. There was something about boosting morale and general happiness in keeping a seemingly well-trained dog as company, right?
“You don’t mind, right? If I—if we keep you, Hyuk-ah?”
The dog had only watched patiently as he talked, before giving an agreeable “woof!” in reply.
If only the dog’s namesake could give his input as well.
Unfortunately, as Han Sooyoung had put it:
“That bastard is on a “soul-searching journey” or something. He’ll probably be back by the time you’re bored of that dog.”
…what more soul-searching could Yoo Joonghyuk do, when he’s already lived around a thousand lives?
He passes the days like that, his new companion a constant at his side as he goes through Lee Seolhwa’s physical therapy sessions. Yoo Joonghyuk, seeming to have sensed the dog’s presence and disliking it, does not return during any of those days.
“Does Joonghyukie not like dogs?” he asked Seolhwa once.
She smiled at him, in that way she sometimes did when he says something she believes is ridiculous—but seeing as she’s too nice, she never actually calls him out on it. “I would think you’d know better, Dokja-ssi. Given your relationship and all.”
“That’s really not…”
He bit his tongue. Right. This Seolhwa never married Joonghyuk, nor did she even date him. He’d been so used to the idea of them together from watching Joonghyuk in every world line, he still forgets that this reality is different.
And like a guillotine hanging over his guilty head, Seolhwa asked,
“You must know that I accept you and whoever you choose to love?”
He held in a strangled sound of dismay at her question. Yes, he’d been wrong, but that didn’t mean she had to tease him. To think even Lee Seolhwa would bring up such an old misunderstanding…
“Woof!”
“It looks like Hyukie supports your love too, Dokja-ssi.”
“Ah…”
Then there’s Hyuk. Hyuk, who reminds him more and more of the man he’s named after: with his short, seemingly berating barks as Dokja struggles to walk, his little nips at his hand whenever Dokja sets aside the tomatoes in his food, and the way he often keeps watch over him like that bastard did back then…
“...where is Yoo Joonghyuk, really?”
Hyuk perks up at his question, head raising from where he’d been resting on Dokja’s lap.
“You’re cute and all,” he murmurs, patting that soft head with a gentle hand, “but that guy…it’s weird not to have him around. I doubt he’s in trouble given who he is, but I can’t help wondering what’s wrong with him this time.”
Hyuk bares sharp teeth for a flash of a second. “Arf!”
“What, are you offended for his sake?” he laughs. If this were the first day, he’d be scared—but knowing how affectionate this dog is for a month?
“Woof!”
“I feel betrayed, Hyuk-ah.”
A rough tongue licks over his face before he can stop it. “Hey!”
“Whuff!”
“You’re so,” he gives in to an exasperated sigh, grabbing tissues off his bedside table to wipe at his face. “Hyuk-ah. I know the licking means you like me, but did you have to?”
“Woof!”
Yes, apparently. What a brat.
Not as much of a brat as his namesake, in the end, who’s yet to return after a month of being away. That Yoo Joonghyuk who loves his sister to death, that same damn Joonghyuk who traversed universes to bring him back—
“...if he really cares like people think he does, then why hasn’t he returned?”
Hyuk stares at him then. No responding barks, no lolling tongue—just quiet staring.
It’s unnerving.
(It reminds him too much of Joonghyuk’s dark, lingering stares.)
“What?” he asks. “I just think it’s strange that he’d leave his sister alone for so long again, after everything.”
“Whuff.”
“I don’t get him,” he complains, rubbing Hyuk’s head. “He’d go that far to save me, then he ups and leaves without saying anything? He keeps calling me a fool, but maybe he’s one himself.”
Hyuk blinks.
“...I’m worried.”
That lolling tongue makes its return as Hyuk starts panting, seemingly smiling.
“You think this is funny? You’re just like him,” he grumbles, sitting back into his propped-up bed. “Making others worry seems to be his specialty. I know he can handle himself fine, but emotionally, he’s…”
“Woof!”
“He’s more emotionally fragile than people think,” he insists, scowling. Hyuk’s mouth closes and he stares at Dokja again, reminding him of how intimidating a large dog can look when it’s not smiling. “He pretends he doesn’t care, but…”
Hyuk sneezes.
“...I wish he’d come back, so I can punch him once.”
“Arf!”
“Just once is fine,” he says. His eyesight blurs and he starts to wipe, thinking maybe he’s got something in his eye, until he gets stopped by Hyuk licking at his chin. “Hyuk-ah.”
He gets a loud huff in response.
“...you’re such a good boy,” he sniffles, frowning to himself as he half-hugs Hyuk, who happily tucks himself into Dokja’s side. With eyes closed and cheek pressed against a furry head, he murmurs, “You’re a good boy, but…damn it, why do I still want to see that bastard?”
There’s a shifting movement under his cheek. He frowns, eyes still closed, when he feels the change in texture against his skin—from fur, to something that feels like cloth.
Instead of Hyuk’s familiar barking, what he hears next is:
“Because I’m the one you love most, Kim Dokja. You already know this.”
He’s not even allowed the chance to scream, or run, when a pair of muscular arms trap him in a tight embrace, its attached hand covering his mouth to stifle his yell. He manages to get one hit in with a weak hand against that familiar, solid chest, but it feels pathetic when he knows that Joonghyuk allowed the hit.
“You bastard,” he wheezes, breaking away from the hand gripping at his face. “What did you do to the dog—?”
“It’s me.”
“What?”
“I’m the dog,” Yoo Joonghyuk says bluntly, expression entirely serious when Dokja leans back to look up at him. “Or do you want me to give anecdotes as proof? I could smell that you were stressed earlier.”
“Smell—?”
He’s hit with a multitude of flashbacks, like a film roll viewed at max speed, of the times Hyuk had nosed against his ass, or licked his mouth.
He hides his face into Joonghyuk’s neck.
“...never mind, I don’t need the proof.” He sniffles again, only for Joonghyuk to wipe at his eyes—almost giving him a heart attack in the process. “What are you—”
“You missed me this much?”
“...you bastard.”
He’s treated to a fond smile when he looks up at Joonghyuk’s face. That smile that he hasn’t seen in a while, that smile that he could never seem to believe was something real—and now, it was handed to him for free, just because Joonghyuk’s having fun teasing him.
He hides his face again, doubling the cover of darkness against Joonghyuk’s chest with his two hands.
“I want my dog back,” he grumbles.
“Woof.”
He smacks Joonghyuk on the chest, and finds his face flushing with embarrassment when his hand bounces.
“My cute dog.”
“I know you think I’m cute.”
He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it, then closes it again with a weary sigh. For once, without shame, he lets himself slump completely into Joonghyuk, allowing those strong arms to tuck him close in a (bewilderingly) gentle embrace.
“I think I know why you got turned into a dog,” he says, voice half-muffled by Joonghyuk’s shirt.
“Hm. I got a glimpse as well from that world.” Immediately, before Dokja can even say anything more, he adds, “I’m not angry with you, Dokja.” A pause. “But I would prefer that you confess to me while I’m human.”
“Who’s going to confess—”
“You.”
“How about you confess first, you shameless bastard?”
“Then, I love you.”
“...”
“Well?”
“...I think I need to sleep. I’m hallucinating things—”
“Kim Dokja.”