Work Text:
Joonghyuk was sitting on his desk, furiously typing away replies to the emails that had piled up over the course of last week. He hadn’t been active on stream, playing for an hour at most and vanishing for the rest of the day to do fuck knows what. Presently, he sighed in frustration, walking back and forth between the small shelf on the other end of the room to retrieve files, dodging Mia’s plush assault on his head and taking few moments to scan previously retrieved files, looking through the contract he had signed ages ago that now come to bit him in the ass.
Amongst them, he found one under the company Minosoft. He frowned at the thing like it was poisoned garbage and threw it on the floor beside his table, leaving it for the future-him to fact check.
This image shows a man pissed at existence, but in reality, if you know how to look, you may notice the sight pout on his lips, flushed ears poorly hidden under long dark curls, hunched posture that came out only on reserved occasions and the softness and bliss that lingers on the sharpest edges of his features.
This went unnoticed by his manager, Bihyung.
Bihyung, who sat on his bed, drinking coffee stolen straight out of fridge. Bihyung, who watched his every move for all inconsistencies he could find and scanned the room for more, red eyes spotting how the books were rearranged from the last time he had been here, the extra coffee mug sitting by the bed table and a pair of reading glasses that he was sure didn’t belong to the pair of siblings because 1. They both had 20/20 vision and they took every chance to flaunt it and 2. It was cheap, simple and had a scratch on one of the lenses. If it was theirs, they wouldn’t waste a second replacing it, especially Mia, that 4-year-old brat who cried if even a single wrinkle appeared on her nicer dresses.
A sudden groan brought his attention back to Joonghyuk, his ward with how he was treated, and caught the sight of Joonghyuk laying face first into his desk, uncaring of what happened to the papers falling or his monitor leaning against the wall, one step away from expiration.
Was he… sulking?
The thought disgusted Bihyung, his richy rich boss who had abundance of admiration, money, fame, success and even peace (a SSS-Grade item) AND a partner (a not-so-SSS-Grade item), had no reason to sulk.
Bihyung shook his head at the implication, that something was amiss, it’s not like he’d be any help even if he knew. “What stick do you have up your ass today?” he asks instead, fringing more annoyance than he felt. In response he saw Joonghyuk give him a stink eye, brooding in his little pit of darkness while Mia ignored the adults entirely, colouring the house pink.
His ward took a deep breath, opening his mouth to say something. Then he deflated again, frown a little softer, words not clear enough. Bihyung stared at his reflection on the blank screen in front of him, a bored expression replacing his curiosity now.
Something was wrong and this man wasn’t going to share it. Well, so be it. He thought as he took out his phone and started scrolling through mails, confirming gaming sessions and pending deals that were yet to be reviewed; Joonghyuk replied with a simple nod or grunts of various kinds that the manager had half the mind to listen.
It’s evening as it is, the gamer wasn’t the only one tired and craving a break – hell Bihyung was more than ready to turn the clock to 0600 himself if it tested any more of his patience.
It didn’t come to that, thankfully. With just a few more mails left to be read he closed the app and sprang up from his seat, gathering his files and bag from the floor, dusting off the thin layer of glitter as he walked across the room and gave specific instructions to the brooding man to reheat the food he’d ordered for them.
In no time, Joonghyuk heard the familiar sound of the door opening and closing shut, loud chatter of his manager dying as he clocked out. He was still staring at the space on his bed that the manager occupied prior, wishing on heavens that the rustle of his sheets was familiar like the glasses on his nightstand were.
He sighed, berating himself for being such a baby - it’s barely been 24hrs for gods’ sake - but yelped when he turned to face his monitor, a small white light under it blinking. In front of him, on his keyboard, was sitting a miniature version of… something human? Covered in paint, various shades of green and pink, and beside his chair was a proud Mia who stood with perfect posture, hands clasped neatly behind her with her chin raised high, though her eyes were closed.
She’s expecting praise. He realized immediately.
It brought a smile to his face; however difficult praising her abstracts was, he’d always summon his Shakespeare to try his best.
“What do we have here today, my lady?” he asked, letting the giggling girl settle in his lap.
“Well, you see brother mine, it is a man with his hair really choppy. He has a very large coat, it’s white but it was boring so I made it green.” She paused to flash him a grin, her way of checking if he was still listening. He raised his brows in question, “But why green? I think pink coats are cuter.”
“I think so too!” she let the character of an aristocrat slip but recovered quickly. “Brother mine. But he-he’s not cute. He’s a little stupid and he reads too~ many books, so he’s turning into a tree.”
Joonghyuk, against himself, felt nostalgic, remembering the first time she had said something like this. “Then, how about-” he pointed at the little buds peeking from his sides, possibly his hands. “-this? What are these, my lady?”
She giggled again at the nickname. “His branches of course, he can’t have fruit without a branch first, silly.”
She then slid off of his lap and retrieved a piece of paper from her play kit. “Please, brother mine, leave me good recon- rec- remon-” she frowned trying to remember the big word her brother uses in his streams. When that didn’t work, she just shoved the paper into his hands with a hopeful look in her eyes. He saw it was a review paper, ‘CAMET’ written on top of the page with a bold marker. He jolted down a nice comment about her piece in his neater handwriting, something about the proportions and something about the finishing.
He left out how it reminded him of his boyfriend, at least on the front.
Mia was happy as a hare as she took her masterpiece carefully, waddling out of the room, sparkly footprints leaving a faint trail behind on the carpet. Yoo Joonghyuk’s smile lingered as he watched his little sister, at peace knowing he's finally giving her all the luxury that she deserves.
His smile faded as he leaned over his desk, resting his head, pounding with a migraine, over his arms and closed his eyes. It hadn’t even been 24hrs and yet, it felt like it had been 24 years. The man hadn’t texted once since he left in the morning, not a call, no voice note either, does he even exist? Even a dream couldn’t conjure up something beautiful as last night, last week, the whole month that they had stayed together.
He tried to juice out their moments together as much as he could, for all its worth, he had empty coffee packages to speak on his behalf, and yet a moment away was excruciating as hell itself.
He took a deep breath, another sigh at bay that was replaced by a series of sneezes, glitter in the air as he rolled his chair away to avoid any more glitter into his lungs. He’s going to become a medical anomaly with his hundred glitter tumours.
Sighing the previously interrupted breath, he got up, seeing the clock had crawled off to 0630. He picked his phone one last time, finding no notifications worth his time. Another frown gathered between his brows, he wasn’t going to mull over this anymore, he’s going to cook dinner, play a round and sleep until he felt better.
With is resolve made, the gamer stormed out of the room, sound of pots and pans followed soon after along with the consistent sound of knife passing through cold vegetables. In spite, he’s going to cook up a feast tonight whether Yoo Mia eats it or not.
Yoo Mia, now sixteen, was in her room, going through all her sketch books and diaries to unbox them up as they settled into the new house. Her oppa told her it was for privacy, somewhere quieter than Seoul would be good and she’ll get to experience a difference environment, different people, and she agreed because it’ll expand her knowledge about how backgrounds affected others. Surely someone from a rural area had to be different from someone from the urban area, their primary circles and sources were completely different as far as she could think.
Maybe this will help her write her projects easier. Don’t ask how it’s relevant, it simply matters.
Despite all attempts of her brother to convince her that it’s for her own good, she had a slight suspicion it had to do with that stinky husband of his. After all he’s the one with a weird obsession with quiet mornings and slow evenings, fresh air and dirt roads, you know the aesthetic.
Mia was surrounded by the box that contained all her childhood sculptures, the air-dry clay had held up surprisingly well in spite of the carelessness she handles them with. Her paper crown from years ago titled over her forehead as she scooted back a little, half laying on her bean bag with her oldest diary in hand.
It was covered in glitter, an obsession that had tailed her throughout the years whether it be in her dresses or her sculptures, now larger, different material, each design more thought out than the wriggly shapes they’d been when she was a kid. The diary held many little secrets, like the toy she broke and hid under the kitchen sink, the shoe she lost and never told her oppa about, or the time she realized tooth fairy wasn’t real but threw a tantrum at the revelation anyway.
What, it got her extra ice cream and cuddles! A win is a win, isn’t it?
A wide grin stretched across her face when she got to the ‘CAMET’ section, small pages stapled to the larger ones along with polaroids of little sculptures, some of them were the most hideous little things she’d ever made, and yet Joonghyuk had given them undeserving praise, calling them ‘among the most marvellous creations he’d ever seen’ along with some aggressive praise written in that neat handwriting of his, she was surprised to see how he still wrote like that, barely any changes in his strokes or the pressure he applied on them.
"Consistency king." she muttered and flipped ahead a few pages, finding the one she remembered most faintly.
A green and pink abomination that had just a ball of glitter for it’s face. She chuckled out loud at it, the comment, or should she say review, was just on brand for the gamer, with his slang slipping into the polite, corporate Korean that gave a specific blend that she couldn’t find anywhere else.
She held the loose paper above her, reading the words over and over until her wide grin melted into a soft smile, reminiscent of the days she had no homework or responsibilities to deal with. She turned the page over curiously, expecting nothing but finding a small scribble, so small she almost gave up reading it.
It was still her brother’s handwriting, still the same neat strokes, as small as they were, and the nature of the words brought her grin back. She sat up and found the green-pink specimen the note belonged with.
February 15th, she had the perfect gift.
Midnight brought the quiet clicks of keyboard, a monitor glowing in the dark while a small table lamp provided some warmth to the rest of the room that was in a disarray, boxes laying here and tumbled over there, books already piling in several small towers on every flat surface of the room.
Behind the man sitting on the chair, a tall man loomed with a matching pair of pajamas and a mug, also matching to the one sitting on the nightstand, small stains of coffee a reminder to their long conversation just a while ago.
Glow of the monitor revealed the man to be Yoo Joonghyuk, sporting a soft expression veiled with exhaustion of unloading the boxes and arranging the furniture. He smiled softly as he watched his husband work through long paragraphs, placing a comma here and deleting a word there. The document was littered with remarks, Sooyoung’s rage-filled call loomed overhead like an impending doom.
He gently placed the cup beside the keyboard, just close enough to make his presence known. When the editor looked up, he found Joonghyuk leaning in to kiss his forehead, his nose, then his wrist. Old habits die hard, he thought, though he doubts he’d mind if this one never died out.
“What’s on the menu today?” he asks, sliding off his glasses to smother his face in his husband’s soft belly, so different from the hard abs he had all those years ago. Almost immediately he felt a rough hand combing through his hair, playing with his stubborn cowlick.
“Hot chocolate.”
“No coffee?”
"Dokja-ssi,” Joonghyuk regarded him with fake formality, hand resting on his nape. “It is way past the time for coffee, I fear we don’t serve any at 3."
Dokja gave him a belly laugh, soft enough just for them to hear. He rightly guessed that no spices were allowed either, in fact- “you should just leave this for tomorrow, it’s too late.”
He loved when Joonghyuk was vulnerable like this, talking as he pleased, however he pleased. Alas, “you know I can’t leave for later, I’ve already delayed it enough because of the move.”
Even in the dark of their room, the editor made out the sweet cherry shape of his husband’s pout, brows frowning as they always do whenever Dokja had to stay away for longer than his patience allowed for. Before the man could protest, he got up quickly to peck the pout away, ushering him into bed and tucking him under the soft blanket they’d borrowed from Mia.
He gave another lingering kiss before returning to his desk; though now that he’d gotten up, he didn’t want to sit down without a snack so he made a detour to the kitchen, feeling along the walls of their new house. Dokja rightly guessed the turn that led him to the kitchen but wrongly mistook the small lump of clay on the counter for trash.
Upon closer inspection, he saw the telltale way Mia wrote her numbers, all sharp edges and punk, her signature pink micro glitter leaving a trail all across his hands and the counter along with the birthday card underneath. He carefully unfolded it, thanking heavens for no more glitter or a broken record stuck on a birthday song. Rather, he found something of better interest: a small polaroid, stapled to a laminated poorly cut out page meant to be a review section.
The polaroid showed him the same lump of clay that he held in his hands, in front of a younger Yoo Joonghyuk who sat on his gaming chair, captured mid sneeze. The image brought joy swelling in his chest, happy to know Mia was still this hilarious even as a kid. Behind the polaroid the review section read of extravagant praise, written neatly in his lover’s handwriting.
Little has changed over the years, he realized, fondly flipping the page over in his hand and surprising himself a smaller scribble along the bottom. It was so small that he needed his glasses.
Bubbling with curiosity, he grabbed a snack and made way to his room, greeting Gilyoung on his way back. “Not sleeping yet kiddo?” he asked, rolling back on his heels to stay in place.
“Yeah hyung, I just need to finish this up quickly then I’m done.”
Dokja smiled, he had grown well and responsible. He gave a nod and a whispered rest well to his boy and continued back to his personal haven. Eager to read what was written.
He made sure to not make too much noise when he settled back on his desk, taking a large sip of his hot chocolate and putting his glasses back on. He gave a quick glace to his husband, now halfway into the dream land as he read: ‘I miss you, Kim Dokja you fool.’