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Kim Dokja starts dreaming about Yoo Joonghyuk long before he even realizes that’s what it is.
The first time it happens, it hits him like a crashing wave—thrashing and unexpected. It’s soft, so unbelievably soft that it leaves Kim Dokja grasping for whatever remnants were left behind in his mind. It fills Dokja with an unprecedented warmth—cozy and sultry—that he almost doesn't want to leave his covers in order to stay toasty.
But it's strange—extremely strange. He’s never felt so homely during a dream, and he’s definitely never felt so despondent after a dream ends. It was so damn weird. Yet, he can’t help but still feel the lingering sensations of such a pleasant dream.
In the dream, the sun’s rays spill through Kim Dokja’s window—an obvious sign of the curtains not being fully closed. The next thing Dokja realizes is that he’s warm, his body is warm despite hearing his AC pushing out cold air through the vents.
He feels the air graze his lower half and Dokja winces internally at the gush of cold air hitting his skin. Kim Dokja then feels faint breaths against his face, as well as the prickling sensation in his arm from where it was wrapped around something. He soon realizes that someone is snuggled up against him, and he too, is snuggled against a firm chest, and it’s the same person who was making Dokja feel so hot.
Kim Dokja slowly lets his eyes open, letting them adjust to the bright light seeping into his room. He was already getting ready to wake the person who was hogging the cover, and who was deep in his personal space, to get out of his bed as well to close the curtain.
When Dokja’s eyes fully adjust to the morning light—he looks up to see who exactly his mind had fabricated.
Kim Dokja feels all the air in his lungs escape as soon as he does.
The preparator—the same person who was like Dokja’s personal heater; the same person who was stealing all of Dokja’s cover; the same person who was cuddled into Kim Dokja’s personal space—was none other than Yoo Joonghyuk.
Joonghyuk.
Yoo. Joonghyuk.
That sunfish bastard.
Kim Dokja forgets how to breathe for a moment. Seeing Yoo Joonghyuk in his bed was certainly the last thing he expected. Why had his mind fabricated this pleasant and summery dream with this bastard of all people? Why couldn’t his mind just create a random person that he’d never see in passing?
Dokja’s mind races at ungodly speeds. The pure shock of it all was enough to render Kim Dokja speechless; the words that were brewing in his mouth now seemingly clawing at Dokja’s throat—thrashing to get out.
But Kim Dokja can’t. He can't say anything. He can't tell Joonghyuk to leave. Even if this was a dream, he couldn’t allow himself to wake up the bastard and tell him to get out of his bed. It was almost like telling the real Joonghyuk to “fuck off.” (Not like this would ever happen in real life, but that's not the point.) (Either way, he’d die if he ever told Joonghyuk to “fuck off.”)
Kim Dokja watches Joonghyuk’s chest rise and fall with each breath he takes. He takes note of how Joonghyuk’s face is slightly puffy with evident sleepiness. He notices how his bed hair sticks up in different directions, yet still looks like it was disheveled in perfectly curated strokes. He notices the way Joonghyuk’s long lashes press against his cheeks.
Up close, Kim Dokja can see every little detail of Yoo Joonghyuk’s face that he never seemed to notice in real life. It almost makes him feel guilty for not paying closer attention to Joonghyuk’s facial features—the man was gorgeous.
Kim Dokja notices his perfectly shaped eyebrows; the slope of Joonghyuk’s nose and how boopable it looked; his thin double eyelids; and his puffy, full lips that looked oh so soft—
Before Kim Dokja can even register what he's doing—he leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of Joonghyuk’s mouth. A slow, languid press of lips to skin; tender and amorous. Once Kim Dokja does, he immediately jolts away from Yoo Joonghyuk like he had been burned by the sun itself.
Kim Dokja’s mind begins to race once again. An alarming amount of thoughts begin to form in his brain—running around rampant while leaving a trail of disconcert in its wake.
This was so weird. So damn weird. Kim Dokja needed to get out of this dream. He had to before anything else happened. Fuck. He should’ve forced himself to wake up when he first realized the sunfish bastard was the person snuggled up in his bed for God's sake. This must be an invasion of privacy on Joonghyuk's behalf. Right?
Wait— Don’t panic, Dokja. Everything is fine. You’re overreacting. This doesn't mean anything—it only does if you continue reading in between nonexistent lines. Dreams are illogical. Your mind fabricates your desires with the last thing that you remember before going to sleep. Yeah! That’s it.
It’s not like he thinks about Yoo Joonghyuk like that. No. Not at all.
Kim Dokja is brought out of his thoughts when he feels Joonghyuk shift in his arms. His gaze settles back on Joonghyuk’s face, and he watches as he slowly stirs awake. His eyes open slowly, still hazy with sleep; he blinks leisurely before he smiles down at Dokja.
“Mornin’,” Joonghyuk murmurs, voice rough with sleep.
Kim Dokja wakes up before he can even answer.
The next time it happens, Kim Dokja still feels unprepared—severely unprepared.
It’s not like he expected to dream about Yoo Joonghyuk a second time—he hadn't even expected it the first time! No matter how stupidly warm and domestic the first dream was—he’d never want to willingly dream about that bastard like that. It was weird—was Kim Dokja involuntarily a pervert?
This time, Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk are in the movie theater. He doesn't know what movie they were currently watching, it was probably some new movie that had piqued Kim Dokja’s interest, and like clockwork, he invited Yoo Joonghyuk along.
Usually, Kim Dokja would enjoy going to the theater to see a movie with Yoo Joonghyuk—late at night, reclusive, just the two of them. It was their thing, and Kim Dokja had grown to love the serenity of having Joonghyuk at his side—peacefully watching the big screen while hearing Dokja’s occasional comment, despite being hellbent on not going with him.
Usually, he would enjoy their movie outings, but this wasn't their usual outing. This was Kim Dokja’s mind fabricating an outing with Yoo Joonghyuk for whatever reason. Maybe it was the pent-up frustration that was brewing in Dokja’s mind after the past couple of movie outings with the sunfish had been cancelled. Maybe it was the fact that Dokja desperately longed for one of their movie hangouts after a crazed day at work. Maybe it was because a new movie came out—a movie that both of them had waited anxiously for—only for them to not have any space in their schedule to go see it on opening night. Who knows.
Kim Dokja now finds himself next to Yoo Joonghyuk. He’s saying something, but Dokja hadn't paid attention to the words escaping his mouth—too preoccupied with his own thoughts to even listen.
He vaguely catches the phrases, “Thank you for agreeing on this,” and, “I don’t pick movies, but this one caught my attention.” This catches Kim Dokja off guard. Yoo Joonghyuk? Picking a movie? Since when does Yoo Joonghyuk pick out movies? KIm Dokja does that, not Yoo Joonghyuk.
Kim Dokja has to bite back a groan. If he was going to dream about Yoo Joonghyuk and their real-life plans (which still made him feel uneasy), the least his brain could do was make it accurate!
Suddenly, the already dim lights turn off completely, and the ads that had been playing in the background stop. The movie screen starts playing the specific movie’s studio—Blumhouse—and that name sounds very familiar for whatever reason, but Kim Dokja doesn't have half the mind to dig in his brain and pinpoint where exactly he had heard that name before.
Before he knows it, the preface of the movie begins. On the screen, the number 1982 appears in bright yellow, it then disappears and the camera fixes on a girl with pigtails who’s sitting in front of a stage that has a trapdoor for whatever reason.
A little girl with blond hair comes up to the girl with pigtails, asking why she’s still sitting there instead of hanging out with the other kids. The little girl says how “she” will come out any minute now and was waiting for her. The little blonde girl won't fess up; instead, she mentions how she could come back later when she finally comes out.
That seemed to convince the little girl, but she was still evidently uneasy and restless. The next scenes show the little girl with pigtails sitting at a table with other kids, but none of them talk to her. It was almost like she was an outcast at a children’s party—a place where family and friends come to be together.
Her gaze stays fixated on the stage, seemingly waiting for her friend to come out of the trapdoor, so she could make her escape from such an uncomfortable place. That was until something else caught her gaze, a tall yellow bunny with blue glowing eyes muffling a little boy's screams as it dragged the boy behind authorized personnel doors.
Immediately, the girl springs into action. She tries to tell the adults around her that a little boy had been kidnapped. That they needed to do something, they needed to help the little boy. Who knows what the yellow rabbit would do to the boy? They had to do something and they had to do something now.
Except that none of the adults paid attention to her. They all told her the same thing. “It was a product of your imagination sweetie.” “I’m busy sweetie, go bother someone else.” “Sweetie, can you not see that this is a lively place?”
No one wanted to do anything for the little boy, and she took that to heart. Well, if the adults weren’t going to do anything—the ones that were in charge, the ones who placed order, the ones who were supposed to protect them—she’d take their place as the boy's defender.
So, she starts to tread towards the doors, mind already made up; until she’s stopped by the little blond-haired girl. She warns her not to go in there, that she doesn't know what’s behind there—she doesn't want to know what's behind there. The girl with pigtails doesn't pay her any attention; someone had to do something and it happened to be her.
The girl with pigtails rips her wrist from the other girl's hold and she walks through the doors, and immediately the atmosphere changes. The falsely fabricated lively laughter is now a faint echo in the background; now, all that surrounds the girl is darkness with the flickering of blue light.
The place was eerie and creepy. Kim Dokja could feel the way the place felt suffocating and ominous despite not actually being in the same room. The little girl begins to tread carefully and quietly through the narrow hallway. She glances around, taking in her surroundings, careful not to make a sound.
She makes her way towards a half-open door, and that's when she sees it. The yellow bunny. It was washing its hands. But it wasn't entirely a yellow bunny. It was a man inside a yellow bunny suit. It whistled as it washed its hands, and the little girl hurriedly hid behind some metal containers.
The little girl takes a closer look at her surroundings and that's when she sees the little boy on the floor, and a knife on the counter. That’s when it clicks for the little girl—her countenance shifting to something more frightened and bone-chilling.
The little girl takes a peek above the metal containers and notices that the rabbit was gone. She wastes no time in grabbing the little boy in her arms and starts running towards the exit.
Then, the yellow rabbit comes from around the corner. He had seen the little girl take the boy and run. Almost like he always knew she was there and was waiting to strike.
Kim Dokja then realizes what Yoo Joonghyuk meant ten minutes ago, when he was thanking him for agreeing on the movie they would see tonight, despite it not being what he usually does.
It was honestly embarrassing how long it took him to realize what Yoo Joonghyuk was talking about. The whole five minutes of this film were setting up the atmosphere of textbook horror. And he's only now figuring it out when the killer was about to strike.
How had his brain fabricated an entire dream of watching a horror movie with Yoo Joonghyuk of all things? Why had his brain set him up for such discomfort? This must be a cruel prank that was being played on him. (Except he knew it wasn't and he was involuntarily being made to watch this movie.)
To say that Kim Dokja was not a fan of horror was a complete understatement.
Kim Dokja was not a fan of horror. He couldn’t say he despised it. If he weren't so chicken-hearted; he’d definitely see himself enjoying this movie with Joonghyuk. Sadly, he was tender-hearted and sensitive, and he could already feel the unease and anxiety starting to form in his stomach.
He just had to remember that none of this was real. That the jump scares were just that—jump scares. He had to seem unfazed by them; he couldn’t seem like a wuss in front of Yoo Joonghyuk; stoic, nonchalant, mysterious Yoo Joonghyuk. He would never let himself live it down despite everything being a dream. It was all a movie, it was all a movie, it was all a movie—
Suddenly, Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand made its way to the back of his head and pulled him towards him. Kim Dokja froze up, not having expected Joonghyuk to realize his inner turmoil. Had his fright been that obvious? Shit. He didn't want to ruin the movie or make a fool out of himself! Fuck. Kim Dokja was overreacting, in his own dream of all places!
Almost like Yoo Joonghyuk had read his mind, like he had known Kim Dokja felt guilty for ruining the movie, like he had known he felt embarrassed for ‘overreacting.’ “It’s alright, Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk said softly, “It’s just a movie. None of this is real.”
Kim Dokja couldn’t say anything in reply. He feared that if he did, all that would come out was a shaky shriek at the close proximity that dream Joonghyuk had forced on him.
Kim Dokja couldn’t even think. Every thought his mind had already started concocting dissipated at the first breath he took in. All he could smell was Yoo Joonghyuk; the smell of his cologne—smooth wood and soft spices completely wrapping around him; the smell of his detergent—sweet and fresh; the body wash he used—woody with a lingering smell of floral. Just Joonghyuk, Joonghyuk, Joonghyuk—
And Yoo Joonghyuk only adds more fuel to the fire. He continues to caress the back of his head so tenderly and lovingly that it makes something in Dokja’s chest flip; then he whispers reassuring words into his ear, “Everything is fine, Dokja. I’m here.” “I’m sorry for picking this movie, Dokja.” “Focus on my breathing, Dokja.” Dokja, Dokja, Dokja— And something in his stomach flutters.
Kim Dokja wakes up with the lingering presence of a hand at the back of his head and the heat of words being said into his ear.
The third time Kim Dokja dreams about Yoo Joonghyuk, he feels slightly more prepared for it, but nonetheless, is still taken aback.
This time, Kim Dokja was at the airport. Its high ceilings surrounded him for what seemed like miles, and its harsh lighting reflected against the polished floors. He could faintly smell the aroma of caffeine from a nearby cafe.
Passersbys came and went with the clicking and clacking of their suitcase wheels on tile. The robotic announcements were playing from every corner of the airport with the roar of engines in the distance.
It seemed like Kim Dokja was waiting for Yoo Joonghyuk. That was the most logical conclusion Dokja could come up with. He never picked Yoo Joonghyuk up from the airport when he went abroad for competitions—he had staff for that (and Kim Dokja couldn’t drive); however, Dokja found himself not minding seeing Yoo Joonghyuk’s face first thing when he arrived back home.
Kim Dokja waited patiently for Yoo Joonghyuk to walk through the arrival gate, hands tucked deep into his pockets, rocking slightly on his heels. How come he wasn't holding a sign that said, “Welcome Home!” That always happened in the movies and in real life, so why not in his dream?
And speaking of dream— If Kim Dokja was honest, for all of this being a dream—it all seemed real, a little too real. It was almost as if this was all a possibility, like these scenarios that Kim Dokja’s mind was fabricating could, indeed, happen.
It was crazy to think about. Hypothetically, Kim Dokja could be picking up Yoo Joonghyuk from the airport when he comes back from the states. He could be the first thing Yoo Joonghyuk sees when walking through the arrival gate, but would Joonghyuk even want that? Would Kim Dokja even want to do that?
And despite everything seeming a little too real—like a parallel universe for the decisions that they never seem to make, none of this could be actually happening, right? Those things only ever happen in fiction, definitely not in a man’s dreams whenever his sunfish bastard seems to be so close yet so far that it leaves Kim Dokja with a vacant spot in his heart in the shape of a Yoo Joonghyuk.
Kim Dokja shook his head, snapping out his thoughts. He looked at the digital board listing all the arriving flights. He scans it, trying to find Joonghyuk’s and when he does—his heart rate picks up at the “Flight landed” next to it.
Kim Dokja can feel his heart thud—a mix of nerves and anticipation. He was so excited to see Yoo Joonghyuk again, warmth and eagerness filled him from head to toe. But the feeling quickly died down when reality hit him: this wasn't his Joonghyuk, it was dream Joonghyuk.
This was the version of Yoo Joonghyuk his mind conjured up. Dream Joonghyuk was nothing but a figment of Kim Dokja’s mind that had appeared out of thin air one random night, and now wouldn't get out of his head.
Kim Dokja had to remind himself that dream Yoo Joonghyuk wasn't his Joonghyuk. The real Yoo Joonghyuk was still in the states, who was probably having a mentally stimulating time at events—listening and trying to network, posing in multiple different campaigns, and the one who wasn't coming back until later in the week.
Before he could continue his brooding, the arrival doors slid open with a soft whirr. Passengers started to come out in waves, dragging suitcases, stretching their limbs, and greeting loved ones.
Kim Dokja immediately starts to scan the crowd, trying to find the person that mattered the most to him right now despite everything being a dream.
That’s when Kim Dokja sees him.
Yoo Joonghyuk. Or at least his dream counterpart.
His hair was tousled, yet somehow looked perfect under the airport's harsh lighting—dark strands falling over his forehead in a way that made Dokja’s breath catch. He wore a hoodie that fit his broad, buff frame perfectly, and his face was in a permanent scowl like always, but he still looked warm and comfy.
But all Kim Dokja could think about was—He was back home.
“Joonghyuk-ah!” Kim Dokja called out to him, the word escaping from Dokja’s mouth before he could even contemplate it. It echoed loud enough for people to hear, and a few of them gave Kim Dokja a weird look but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Yoo Joonghyuk was standing right in front of him, even if everything was just a dream.
Before he knew it, Kim Dokja’s body started to move. Feet pounding against the polished floor, his heart racing with a mix of disbelief and longing. And Joonghyuk had looked up from the ground at the calling of his name; and the scowl dissolved from his face in disbelief and awe. Before Kim Dokja knew it, Yoo Joonghyuk treaded to where he was, abandoning his suitcase in the midst of the crowd, weaving through people with an unrestrained smile that matched his own.
They collided in the middle of the terminal, and Kim Dokja let Yoo Joonghyuk’s arms wrap around his waist, lifting him off the ground. Yoo Joonghyuk spun him in a full, dizzying twirl. Kim Dokja’s hands clung to his shoulders, laughter spilling out of him which only made Kim Dokja’s mind spin even more.
When Yoo Joonghyuk finally slowed, Kim Dokja leaned forward, letting his forehead press lightly against Joonghyuk’s. “You came,” Yoo Joonghyuk whispered in disbelief, yet full of affection.
And all Kim Dokja could do was stare at Yoo Joonghyuk’s, deep black eyes. Eyes that were filled with so much love and adoration that Kim Dokja couldn’t do anything but admire—admire how Yoo Joonghyuk was all that he could see despite being in a room filled with hundreds of people, admire his beauty up close—how every detail of his face was so vivid he wanted to photograph it and frame it, admire how these late night escapades filled his chest with an unnamable feeling he couldn’t quite figure out, but loved a little too much.
Kim Dokja woke up, gasping for air.
And it just keeps happening.
It wasn't every night, but it was often enough that Kim Dokja had already prepared himself for a dream he unwillingly fell into.
It felt wrong to say, and it was probably wrong to say—at least morally, but Kim Dokja had started to get used to the dreams. And if he was being totally honest, he even enjoyed some of them.
Every dream filled him with a different kind of emotion that he never expected to feel, especially for Yoo Joonghyuk of all people. Yes, he’s always cared for Joonghyuk, despite their feigned hatred and tolerance for each other—but he never knew a world could exist where he felt such an intense affinity for Yoo Joonghyuk.
It was weird, but a good weird.
In every dream, a new emotion would awaken and open up doors Kim Dokja never thought he’d step through. He’d feel a sense of warmth all throughout his body, then be deeply reassured, or an immense sense of euphoria.
Yoo Joonghyuk was awakening parts of Kim Dokja that he never thought he’d feel, and it was scary to think about. This was all occurring in his mind—all conjured up by his deepest, suppressed desires, and Yoo Joonghyuk was the face to arouse these feelings.
Kim Dokja wasn't complaining, he found it comforting knowing it was a begrudgingly handsome sunfish bastard unlocking aspects of Dokja he never would’ve known existed. Except for the gnawing fact, this was all happening in his mind.
Yoo Joonghyuk had no idea that this was happening. The real Yoo Joonghyuk was clueless that he had stirred new emotions in Kim Dokja’s life. If he ever found out, God, Dokja would die of embarrassment. Yoo Joonghyuk would definitely find him weird and never interact with him the same again.
But it's not like he hasn’t tried to stop dreaming of Yoo Joonghyuk—he has, he really, really has. But it's almost like an external force wouldn't let his mind stop conjuring up fake scenarios in his mind and plaster Yoo Joonghyuk’s face to the body that lived the script with him.
All Kim Dokja could do was suck it up. The dreams would probably stop when Kim Dokja unlocks every different emotion possible that has been locked behind his mind for years without him knowing, or something else—but they would stop, at least he hopes so soon enough. (Or not.)
So, with that Kim Dokja lets the dreams continue.
Sometimes they’re walking through the quiet streets of Seoul at night with Yoo Joonghyuk’s fingers laced through his, warm and steady.
Sometimes they’re sitting on Yoo Joonghyuk’s apartment couch, eating the freshly homemade food Joonghyuk had prepared for the both of them while Kim Dokja complains about how one of his web novels went on hiatus.
Sometimes they’re lying in Yoo Joonghyuk’s bed, Kim Dokja’s head resting against Joonghyuk’s chest as he listens to his heartbeat while Joonghyuk runs his hand against Dokja’s shoulder.
Tonight, Yoo Joonghyuk is sitting at the edge of his bed while Kim Dokja strums his guitar, patiently waiting for the cover Dokja would play in a few moments.
He remembers when he first told Yoo Joonghyuk he played the guitar; a hobby that he had picked up back in high school and hadn't stopped ever since he first learned how to strum the strings. Yoo Joonghyuk had stared at him quite literally like a fish out of water—clearly not expecting for Kim Dokja to have an artistic bone in his body, but he digresses.
Kim Dokja vaguely remembers a conversation they had a few days later, when Yoo Joonghyuk brought up his hobby. He remembers being over at Joonghyuk’s place, eating the delicious food that the man had made a few moments prior.
“You should play a song when I’m over.”
That’s all he had said and it was enough for Kim Dokja to pause with his chopsticks in the air, and his mouth wide open. He turned his gaze towards Yoo Joonghyuk, and he noticed how he was dead serious—he willingly wanted to hear Kim Dokja play something on his guitar for him.
That was enough for Kim Dokja to start laughing; throwing his head back and gasping for air. When he had finished, he turned back to see Yoo Joonghyuk’s face and to his surprise, his already permanently scowled face had shifted into something far more sullen.
Kim Dokja waved him off dismissively, clearly not taking him seriously, “Don’t make that face, Joonghyuk-ah! You’ll get frown lines, and that will ruin your image.” He had said; he hadn't understood the need to want to hear his very mediocre playing—Yoo Joonghyuk had other things to do other than hear his playing.
He’d be lying if he didn’t feel a soft warmth creep up in his chest and up towards his face and ears. The blamed it on the food—Yoo Joonghyuk must’ve tested out a new spice in the food and was now making Kim Dokja feel hot under the latter’s gaze.
So, Kim Dokja decides he’d play Yoo Joonghyuk a love song. Well, not an actual love song, it was far from that. It was filled with longing for a person and sweet, sweet admiration; but lying underneath that esteem, bittersweet feelings wrapped around the edges of the lyrics, and unrequited love evident enough that you can't escape it—even in your dreams.
It wasn't a love song, but a tragic song about a person only loving you back in your dreams, which was pretty devastatingly romantic.
God. He was losing it.
Yoo Joonghyuk sits at the edge of his bed, patiently waiting for Kim Dokja to start strumming the strings of his guitar and sing him a cover of Red Velvet’s, “In My Dreams.” (It was pretty amusing knowing there was a song that fit their—Dokja’s—current predicament. Except that Kim Dokja didn't have romantic feelings for Yoo Joonghyuk. His mind just happened to fabricate intimate scenarios with his closest companion.)
But hypothetically, why else would Kim Dokja be having dreams with Yoo Joonghyuk almost regularly? At first, he chalked it up as dreams being illogical—they never really meant anything unless you started digging into the actual cause for it.
The first time it happened, he had been longing for human companionship. It was one of those nights when he wished he could settle down quietly with his significant other, and live a life of domestic bliss. Obviously, that couldn’t happen, he was introverted and never went out, and he’s never been in a relationship—he’d definitely end up alone, and it wasn’t something that worried him. Yet, from time to time, he let himself imagine a nice life with a specific person that was always just a silhouette in his mind, which left Kim Dokja wondering who would wander in his life and take that spot.
Before he had gone to sleep, he had talked to his Yoo Joonghyuk about it. He doesn’t remember why, maybe because he could probably relate or it was a moment of weakness—who knows. He ended up confiding to Joonghyuk how he sometimes wishes he had a different life, so he could live a happier life. Kim Dokja remembers the way Yoo Joonghyuk stayed quiet, listening to his rant on how sometimes Kim Dokja let this accustomed loneliness consume him when it usually lives in moderation.
So, when he dreamed with Yoo Joonghyuk, body flushed against his, in his bed—he rationalized it as Kim Dokja’s subconscious yearning for companionship. An unfulfilled desire for romance and intimacy that he’d never see in his lifetime, and he was okay with that.
Then, it just kept happening. And with every dream, a new emotion would surge in his chest, would pool in his stomach, crawl at his throat—it was almost suffocating, but so, so affable that Kim Dokja never wanted to wake up from the bliss.
When he’d wake, he would still feel the lingering remnants of the dream—the way Yoo Joonghyuk held his hand, the way Yoo Joonghyuk laughed at his dumb joke, the way Yoo Joonghyuk stared at him like he was in love.
And for whatever reason—he couldn’t get that out of his head. All he could think about recently was how Yoo Joonghyuk stared at him; full of admiration, fondness, adoration. Like Yoo Joonghyuk wasn't only looking at his eyes, but at his heart—like he could visually see the way Kim Dokja’s heart thumped erratically behind his ribs.
And then he’d softly smile like he knew what he was doing to Kim Dokja—like he took pride in unknowingly bringing down Dokja’s walls; rendering him useless, rendering him into a mushy, sappy, lovesick fool with Yoo Joonghyuk’s impossibly soft gaze and even more impossibly soft smile—the kind that he only ever used with him and not the fake, practiced one he wore in public.
And now having Yoo Joonghyuk sitting at the foot of his bed, patiently waiting for him to start singing—singing the most la douleur exquise song he had ever heard that perfectly fit their—his—situation right now makes Kim Dokja’s breath hitch, and suddenly it's like the walls are caving in on him. He feels his chest tighten uncomfortably, and his throat starts to close up on him, making air inaccessible to him.
But Kim Dokja can't stop staring at Yoo Joonghyuk, at his dark locks that frame his face in way that makes him look so gentle and youthful; at his rich dark black eyes that Kim Dokja could lose himself in in an indefinite maze; at the slope of his nose and how he could reach over and ‘boop’ it; at his plump, pretty pink lips and how they might taste underneath his. It’s all Joonghyuk, Joonghyuk, Joonghyuk—
Oh.
Oh.
While staring at Yoo Joonghyuk, and at his beauty that seems to lessen the load of his panic. Kim Dokja comes to the absolutely devastating and irreversible realization that he has fallen for Yoo Joonghyuk.
Kim Dokja likes Yoo Joonghyuk. Not just the dreams, but the person he actively sees almost every night when he falls asleep. The person who was only supposed to show up once in his subconscious and not almost damn every night.
Kim Dokja likes Yoo Joonghyuk. As in like-like. Not in the way friends like each other; showing genuine appreciation, offering support during difficult times, and celebrating their successes. Kim Dokja had crossed that line since he was in Yoo Joonghyuk’s arms, sleeping soundly pressed against his chest like he always belonged there.
No. Kim Dokja likes Yoo Joonghyuk. Like his heart doing an embarrassing amount of somersaults in his chest just because Yoo Joonghyuk was staring at him and he looked absolutely ravishing with his compression shirt, tousled hair, and small, encouraging smile.
And it was absolutely terrible. So damn terrible. It was the worst thing that could’ve happened to Kim Dokja, and he's faced a lot of awful things during his life.
He couldn’t like Yoo Joonghyuk. He absolutely couldn’t.
Yoo Joonghyuk was… Yoo Joonghyuk. He was naturally beautiful, so damn beautiful that Kim Dokja always found himself admiring his companion in these dreams, and in real life. And Yoo Joonghyuk was kind in his own way despite being known as ‘stoic’ to the public, but behind closed doors he was like a golden retriever, looking for attention and love at every moment. And God was Yoo Joonghyuk understanding and patient, Kim Dokja doesn’t understand—can’t wrap his head around how Yoo Joonghyuk has stayed by his side this entire time after all the bullshit he has pulled on him in the past.
Yoo Joonghyuk was just so handsome that people were naturally drawn to him like a magnetic force that inevitably drew you in. There were definitely a hundred other people who were lining up for a chance of dating Yoo Joonghyuk because who wouldn't want to date him? They must be a fool to ever pass up someone like Yoo Joonghyuk, he was the kind of person you only ever meet once in your life.
And Kim Dokja was just… Dokja.
The quiet one. The introvert. The one who was always stuck in his own world, who didn’t have a life. The guy who stayed at home like a hermit. The one who read web novels for a living until ungodly hours of the morning.
The one who sometimes still struggled with his sense of self-worth. The one who was way too sensitive despite always having a bright front up. The one who criticized himself the most. The one who lived in an endless battle of comparison and validation.
He wasn't the kind of person someone like Yoo Joonghyuk would fall for.
Definitely not.
Kim Dokja wakes up in a cold sweat, the ghost feeling of string beneath his fingers, and the words of a song he never got to perform clawing at his throat—prickling and burning him up.
But the realization stays rooted in his mind. Fixed in his mind and no matter how hard he rubs at his temples, it stays there like an oxidized stain on his brain.
The problem is that Yoo Joonghyuk exists in real life too.
Kim Dokja still has to see his broad figure almost every day and turn away when he’s been caught staring, he still has to watch the way the media goes crazy over the varying campaign posts he had uploaded, and he still has to see the way his lips quirk up at one of Kim Dokja’s antics.
Kim Dokja still has to talk to Yoo Joonghyuk like he wasn't burning up inside from the guilt of having dreamt of him that night; he still has to watch from the sidelines as Yoo Joonghyuk is admired and adored by everyone; he still has to let his heart lurch at his throat—trying to spill all the feelings he has come to develop for his companion.
But that was the exact problem. Kim Dokja still had to see Yoo Joonghyuk as his companion because that's what he was—his companion, his closest one at that. Even if he knows that there's more to “closest companion,” even if he knows that he's tucking away underlying feelings deep in his heart, that still seem to seep through the cracks of his facade.
Kim Dokja has to pretend like it didn't hurt to see Yoo Joonghyuk—the real Yoo Joonghyuk—act like he always did with him; friendly, stoic, amused. Kim Dokja couldn’t feel disappointed or indignant towards Yoo Joonghyuk because he was unaware of the inner turmoil that Kim Dokja was facing every day since the dreams started.
This was real life, and as much as he would like to escape to dream land during times like these—times where everything was too real, where reality was blending in with fiction, where he couldn’t seem to breathe at the thought of having to stand next to Yoo Joonghyuk after last night's dream—when everything felt like it was all too much.
It was moments like these where reality would hit Kim Dokja like a brick—harsh and uncomfortable, but the truth was unavoidable. No matter how much Kim Dokja tried to deny it or tried to run away from it—it always came back like a rude awakening.
The real Yoo Joonghyuk was nothing more than his companion, his friend—stoic and friendly. That’s how it's always been and how it will always be. Yoo Joonghyuk was nothing more than a shoulder to lean on when life got hard and vice versa. He’d never see Kim Dokja as nothing more than an ugly squid—introverted, humorous, boring.
It's not like Kim Dokja could hope for a chance, for a possibility of all these dreams and feelings to be requited. Kim Dokja could hope and pray every day, for Yoo Joonghyuk to feel the same amount of yearning and amour that consumed his body whole; Kim Dokja could hope and pray for the day that Yoo Joonghyuk finally confesses his profoundest feelings for Dokja; Kim Dokja could hope and pray every single day, but that's what made hope dangerous.
It was dangerous for a tender heart like Kim Dokja to believe in the childish concept that was hope. Because Kim Dokja knows himself, he knew he’d fall into its propaganda with little convincing—he’d fall for its false sense of comfort like wishing upon a star to feel better about the painfully obvious unrequited love he had for his companion.
Hope was dangerous enough that Kim Dokja recognized it in a multitude of ways. He could see it in the way that Yoo Joonghyuk let his gaze slightly linger on him for a second too long; in the way that Yoo Joonghyuk let his hand graze against Kim Dokja’s whenever they stood next to each other while making food; in the way that Yoo Joonghyuk would call his name out—Dokja-yah!— with sweet vitality that it made his throat go dry.
Reading in between the lines of simple gestures like those that happened in real life which just so happened to match the ones that play in his dreams like clockwork only added more fuel to the fire.
Because Dream Yoo Joonghyuk was nothing more than that—a dream. An idealized version of a real person. A version of a person Kim Dokja wishes would exist in real life. An entity that had been fabricated by his mind to lure out his deepest desires, and used Yoo Joonghyuk’s face to bring out the most unattainable of them all—Yoo Joonghyuk himself.
Kim Dokja couldn’t help but hate his mind for putting him in this predicament. If it weren’t for it, Kim Dokja would’ve still lived a life in ignorance, and it definitely would’ve been blissful. He wouldn't have to deal with his mind conjuring up dreams with his companion, or the feelings realization that hit him like a semi truck—he wouldn’t have lived with the constant unrest that this whole dream wonderland brought on him and his real life connections.
Kim Dokja couldn’t let dream instances warp his sense of reality—the line between reality and fantasy was strict and bold. Dream Yoo Joonghyuk was not real-life Yoo Joonghyuk. Real-life Yoo Joonghyuk didn't hold Kim Dokja’s hand like Dream Joonghyuk did. Real-life Yoo Joonghyuk didn't wake up in Kim Dokja’s arms like Dream Joonghyuk did. Real-life Yoo Joonghyuk wasn't whispering sweet nothings into Kim Dokja’s ear like Dream Joonghyuk did.
Real life Yoo Joonghyuk didn't reciprocate the same feelings Kim Dokja had.
And Kim Dokja couldn’t delude himself into thinking otherwise—he couldn’t hope for it. He couldn’t allow himself to hope for the day that Yoo Joonghyuk would, maybe, love Kim Dokja like he did—romantically.
So, any amount of hope that he started to hold close to his heart—diminished into oblivion.
One night the dream is different. As different as a dream Kim Dokja has been living for almost a month now could be at least.
Tonight, they're in a quiet seaside town that he's never seen before. The sky is painted in different hues of pink and orange as the sun sets over the horizon. The air is heavy with salt from the ocean, and soft waves crash softly against rocks.
They both stood next to each other, on the wooden boardwalk, leaning casually against the railing. They don’t speak—they don’t need to. It was evident that they did not need words to know that they were enjoying the view that was being offered. The silence between them was comfortable, as they bathed in the serenity that the moment brought on them, and the sense of comfort that their presence brought on each other.
Kim Dokja lets his gaze drift towards Yoo Joonghyuk and his mouth parts slightly at the view beside him.
Yoo Joonghyuk was staring at the sunset, in absolute awe, which was different from his usual perpetually scowled demeanor; yet, Yoo Joonghyuk stared like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Kim Dokja notices how the different color hues reflect against his pale skin, and Kim Dokja feels his chest tighten at the sight. He immediately takes note of how this was a better sight than any sunset.
“Beautiful…” Kim Dokja whispers into the small space between them and Yoo Joonghyuk turns his head towards him, and God does he look breathtaking, now that Kim Dokja has a clear view of his face.
“The sunset?” Yoo Joonghyuk raises a brow at him, skepticism written all over his face, and it's an amusing sight to look at, Kim Dokja thinks.
”You,” he replies breathlessly without hesitation.
Kim Dokja notices the way Yoo Joonghyuk’s cheeks redden slightly at the compliment, and it takes everything in Dokja not to raise a hand to poke his cheek and giggle at the warmth blooming across his skin.
“I wish I could take you here one day,” Kim Dokja murmurs, still soaking up the sight of Yoo Joonghyuk’s face under the setting sun. “God. The number of places I’d take you…if..” Kim Dokja trails off.
The words stay stuck in his throat, heavy and wrong. Kim Dokja gulps, trying to alleviate the uncomfortable feeling burning inside of him. But no matter how hard he tried, the feeling stayed rooted there.
It was weird, weird to feel like this, especially now. Kim Dokja knows that this was all a dream, but saying this—to dream Yoo Joonghyuk—felt so wrong, so very wrong that it made Kim Dokja want to throw up.
He couldn’t tell dream Yoo Joonghyuk he’d take him everywhere and anywhere if only he were his. He couldn’t. Because he really couldn’t do that, at least not with the figment of his imagination—and probably never with the real life version, but he digresses. That was a conversation that should be reserved for the real Yoo Joonghyuk.
This was a conversation that Kim Dokja had to have with the real Yoo Joonghyuk and not the fabricated version of him that seeped into his mind almost every night for almost a month straight.
It was weird that he even felt like this. This was all a dream— It’s not like the real Yoo Joonghyuk could know about this, but Kim Dokja couldn’t feel like he was betraying Yoo Joonghyuk, his Yoo Joonghyuk.
And that was even sillier! They weren’t even together, they were just friends. There were no underlying romantic feelings, at least on Joonghyuk’s part, because Kim Dokja felt so amorous for Yoo Joonghyuk that it was embarrassing to even say out loud.
“If?” Yoo Joonghyuk prompts gently, breaking Kim Dokja out of his thoughts.
Kim Dokja swallows. He racks his brain for what he could possibly say to soften the blow, “Let’s just say I’d give you the world if I could.”
If only you were mine, goes unsaid.
A week later they’re alone in Kim Dokja’s apartment.
Yoo Joonghyuk is sitting on his couch while Kim Dokja fiddles with his guitar, trying to see if he could play the cover that made its way to his dream wonderland.
Kim Dokja takes note of how Yoo Joonghyuk seems to be focused on whatever he was doing on his phone; probably absentmindedly scrolling through his emails with potential sponsorships. The TV is on, but muted—some random variety show was playing in the background that had piqued their interest until it didn’t.
He doesn’t know what made him want to play the cover now, maybe because Yoo Joonghyuk finally came over for the first time in a while, maybe because he got bored with the variety show playing in the background, maybe because he never got to play it for dream Yoo Joonghyuk
Kim Dokja continues to stare at Yoo Joonghyuk, and the more he does, the more he realizes little things about his companion. He notices the way Yoo Joonghyuk leans comfortably against his couch like he's always belonged there, the way his lips purse when he's focused on whatever caught his attention, the way he hums quietly, subconsciously like second nature.
The more Kim Dokja stares, the more everything feels unbearable, but so right that it takes everything in Kim Dokja’s power to turn his gaze away from Yoo Joonghyuk.
Kim Dokja swallows, fingers tightening around the neck of his guitar. He's been “getting ready” to play the cover for Yoo Joonghyuk for the past ten minutes now. He can tell Joonghyuk was waiting patiently for him, but he almost felt like a burden—why couldn’t he just focus and play the damn song?
He's never performed in front of Yoo Joonghyuk before, but he’s performed in front of his class before for a grade, and he’s performed for Sooyoung before. But in the small space of Kim Dokja’s apartment, and the single stride that's keeping Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk apart shifts something in Dokja.
He feels like a nervous wreck, and he knows he shouldn’t. It’s just Joonghyuk-ah, he reminds himself, but the little reminder doesn't help soothe his nerves, instead—it amplifies them. Ever since Kim Dokja realized he had feelings for his companion, he hasn’t been quite the same.
Kim Dokja used to live peacefully before the dreams and before the feelings. He used to tell jokes so freely, not worrying about whether someone would find him weird for laughing a little too hard or for being a little too loud.
Now, all he could feel was Yoo Joonghyuk’s watchful eyes. The way they would admire him when he was eating the food he had prepared in the comfort of his own home. The way Yoo Joonghyuk watched intently as he cracked a joke, and grimaced when the joke hit the right audience. The way he smiled fondly at one of Kim Dokja’s antics when others would be put off.
“Are you ever going to play,” Yoo Joonghyuk says suddenly, reeling him out of his thoughts, “I was promised a song.”
Kim Dokja exhales through his nose, forcing his shoulders to relax. It was just Joonghyuk-ah. ”That’s rude to say Joonghyuk-ah! I also never promised anything. Just give me a moment—I’m just…trying to find my flow.”
Yoo Joonghyuk hums at his answer and puts his phone down, finally glancing up at him. “What song are you playing.”
“In My Dreams. Red Velvet.” Kim Dokja curtly answers, still trying to see how he's going to play this in front of the real Yoo Joonghyuk and not dream Yoo Joonghyuk.
“Tragic,” he says lightly. “Who are you thinking about?”
Kim Dokja blinks up to where Yoo Joonghyuk is sitting on the couch, and gives him his best unfazed look he could muster, “You know Red Velvet?”
“You're dodging the question, Dokja.” Yoo Joonghyuk stares at him with an unimpressed look, clearly not up for his usual antics.
”It’s about no one,” he answers, a little too quickly, that it most definitely makes him look guilty of hiding something.
Yoo Joonghyuk leans back into the couch, an unconvinced look spread across his face, ”Right.”
Kim Dokja decides to ignore his comment and forces himself to start strumming the beginning chords for the song.
The first note comes a little too sharp which makes Kim Dokja wince internally. He knows Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t catch that, he knew nothing about music, but it makes Kim Dokja deflate slightly. He didn't want to look like a total mess in front of Yoo Joonghyuk—especially not now, he wanted this to be perfect; almost like an unofficial confession.
Kim Dokja closes his eyes for a moment and exhales through his nose before he tries again. This time, the chord is strummed perfectly, and Dokja cheers inwardly at his small success.
His fingers move on their own after that, muscle memory taking over his limbs since his mind was on the verge of a breakdown with how nervous he was.
Then, Kim Dokja starts to sing. He can barely hear his voice from how soft it was, but it feels right. Singing any louder would break the intimacy of the moment, but soft spoken words barely vibrating off the walls, but loud enough that Yoo Joonghyuk could hear made everything; the way his voice dripped with devotion and warmth felt much more personal.
“In my dreams you love me back…” Kim Dokja feels the way his voice wavers ever so slightly, but he pushes through it, swallowing down the nerves clawing at his throat.
Kim Dokja continues singing, but it's not like he's paying attention to how he's doing. All he could feel was the honesty lacing through the lyrics, and how this felt way too real. Like Yoo Joonghyuk knew who this song was about with the way he was frightened with anxiety, with the way he flickered his gaze up at Yoo Joonghyuk whenever a lyric that Kim Dokja connected him with was next, with the way it took everything to stop himself from spilling everything mid song—the dreams, his feelings, his guilt.
By the time the last chord rings out, Kim Dokja feels like he just showed the entire world his most vulnerable side, like he was on display at a museum for the world to critique, but the only opinion that mattered to him was of the person in front of him.
Kim Dokja slowly lifts his gaze towards Yoo Joonghyuk and gasps lightly at the sight in front of him.
Yoo Joonghyuk was staring at him like Kim Dokja had just handed him something fragile, something precious, as if Kim Dokja had just offered him the world.
”You weren’t thinking about anyone?” Yoo Joonghyuk asks after a beat passes.
Kim Dokja shrugs, and lets the next words slip out of his mouth before he could rethink it, “It’s just about someone.”
Yoo Joonghyuk tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly, clearly unimpressed by his answer, and it makes Kim Dokja shift in his seat.
Kim Dokja’s fingers drift back to the guitar's strings, absentmindedly striking a few chords, “Just someone in my dreams.” You, goes unsaid and it echoes in his head like a mantra.
Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t respond right away, and Kim Dokja can almost hear the way the gears in his head turn loudly like he was contemplating something.
“You know,” Yoo Joonghyuk says slowly, “that’s weird.”
Kim Dokja looks up at him again, brows knotting together. How were his dreams weird? “Why?”
Yoo Joonghyuk hesitates for a moment, gaze looking over his entire apartment, and Kim Dokja notices the way his expression was strangely…shy? Why was he scanning his apartment like he was nervous—. “Because I’ve been having dreams too.”
Kim Dokja blinks, clearly not expecting that. “About what?”
Yoo Joonghyuk meets his eyes, and Kim Dokja can see the split second hesitation in his companions eyes, before he utters—
“About you.”
Kim Dokja’s mind goes blank.
Kim Dokja feels the way his heart lurches to his throat—gnawing at him to finally say what he's meant to say this entire time. That singing Yoo Joonghyuk a song about only loving a person in your dreams wasn't just enough.
Because it wasn't. Kim Dokja had to say everything that had been accumulating in his mind for the past month. How he had dreamed about Yoo Joonghyuk, and how it awakened a vast amount of emotions Kim Dokja never thought he would have the chance to experience.
How Kim Dokja had been living in dreams for an entire month, and with every passing dream, he fell deeper and deeper in love with Yoo Joonghyuk without him realizing.
When Kim Dokja finally realized his feelings for Yoo Joonghyuk, he didn't know what to do. He was at a loss for words when everything hit him like a tsunami at full speed.
How he had renounced every possibility of Yoo Joonghyuk ever reciprocating his feelings because Yoo Joonghyuk was Yoo Joonghyuk. He was beautiful, a great chef, famous, adored, someone’s ideal partner. Then there was Kim Dokja, poor little old Kim Dokja, who was too cheery, too loud, too sensitive, who fought his own battles every day.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Yoo Joonghyuk was never supposed to have dreams about him, either. He was never supposed to reciprocate his feelings in any way. This wasn't supposed to happen—
“…What?”
Yoo Joonghyuk lets out a shaky sigh, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck.“It started almost a month ago now,” he admits, “In the dreams we’re doing normal things. We cook, walk around at night, or lay down in bed.”
Kim Dokja’s throat goes dry; he stares at him like a fish out of water, and he feels his heart pounding in his ears, and it only gets faster by the second. Holy shit— “Are we… happy in the dreams?” He finally musters up words to speak, but they don’t feel enough.
Yoo Joonghyuk pauses for a brief moment, before his lips twitch up softly. “Yeah.”
Kim Dokja swallows. He couldn’t believe this was happening, this must be a cruel prank being played on him. Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t have been dreaming about him this entire time, either.
But Kim Dokja knows that this wasn't a dream and this wasn't a prank. The emotion that Yoo Joonghyuk had splayed all over his face proved it—it was honest, sincere, real.
Kim Dokja can't help but let out a huff, in clear disbelief. Yoo Joonghyuk had been dreaming about him for almost a month now, the same amount of time that Kim Dokja had been experiencing dream wonderland too.
And Kim Dokja remembers those three dreams. He remembers cooking food with Yoo Joonghyuk, and how they ate the homemade food with Kim Dokja ranting in between the shared space. He remembers walking the streets of Seoul with Yoo Joonghyuk, hand in hand as they talked about going out for ice cream soon. He remembers lying in bed with Yoo Joonghyuk, and how they just stared at each other, admiring and mapping every detail of each other's faces.
He remembers every dream that he’s shared with Yoo Joonghyuk for the past month now, with such vivid detail that he could recite all of them in order—starting with the very first one and the most recent one like the back of his hand.
Kim Dokja clears his throat before speaking, he feels his throat go dry despite swallowing, “What happens when you wake up?”
Yoo Joonghyuk stays quiet for a moment and Kim Dokja sees the way his adams apple bops slightly in clear nervousness, then his companions voice drops a little, a little quieter, but raw honesty drips from his words, and it's a sight to behold; when has Kim Dokja seen such raw emotion from Yoo Joonghyuk?
“I wish I hadn’t.”
Kim Dokja forgets how to breathe for a moment. Because what are the odds that Yoo Joonghyuk, the same man that he had been dreaming about for almost a month now, was also having the same dreams as him? And what were the odds that he also felt the same for Kim Dokja; the same intense feeling of yearning and longing for what seemed like an unattainable person.
Kim Dokja doesn't answer, he's unable to, and he still couldn’t wrap his head around the situation that was unfolding in front of his eyes. Kim Dokja just stares at Yoo Joonghyuk expectantly, like he holds the entire answers of the universe, and at least right now, in this moment—he does.
Yoo Joonghyuk notices how Kim Dokja won't say anything more, and takes it as his cue to continue on. “There’s this one dream,” Yoo Joonghyuk starts off, “We were standing by the ocean. You said you’d give me the world if you could.”
Kim Dokja’s heart nearly explodes from how fast it was beating behind his ribcage because genuinely, what were the chances?
”You dreamt that too?” He asks as if he hadn't just received his answer a few seconds prior, but he had to make sure he hadn't heard wrong. He had to make sure that he had this all right.
Yoo Joonghyuk just nods his head slowly, and Kim Dokja can't help the laugh that escapes his mouth. It bubbles out of him, uncontrollable, almost hysterical that he has to cover his face with both hands because genuinely, what were the fucking chances?
“I dreamt that too,” Kim Dokja finally says after calming down from his laughing fit.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes widened almost instantly. “You did?” He asks, brows furrowed in confusion.
“Yeah.”
Silence fills the room, but it's not excessively hot or uncomfortable—God, it was far from that. This time it’s electric. The feeling crawls up through his arms, settles in his chest, and presses against his ribs like it's trying to break free alongside with his heart that's been beating way too fast for the past five minutes which might have left a strain on it.
“So.” Yoo Joonghyuk starts off gently.
“So…?” Kim Dokja drags out, trying to fill in the space around them.
Yoo Joonghyuk clears his throat, before speaking. “In the dream,” he says, “You said you’d give me the world if you could.”
Kim Dokja groans, tipping his head back slightly, a hand dragging down his face. “Please don’t quote my subconscious. I feel embarrassed.”
Yoo Joonghyuk almost pouts, almost, but it's enough to send Kim Dokja over the moon, God, he's so cute—, “But I’m curious,” he continues, voice dipping just low enough that it makes Kim Dokja’s stomach twist.
“About what?”
Yoo Joonghyuk meets his eyes, really meets them—like he's looking past his eyes and into something deeper inside of Kim Dokja, and he can't help but feel shy under the older’s gaze. “That’s not what you meant to say, right?”
Kim Dokja pauses. God. Yoo Joonghyuk was way too perceptive for his own good. Of course, he had noticed the way Kim Dokja paused for a moment, trying to pass his words as something casual and passive, when it was far from it. What he said that night wasn't what he meant to say at all, it was a half-truth, but it didn't convey what he really wanted to say to Yoo Joonghyuk.
What he wanted to say was how Kim Dokja would take him everywhere and anywhere, if only he were his. He'd show him every place he’d ever dreamt of seeing, share every moment with him, enjoy the comfort that his presence brought him—if only he were his. Not possessively—God no. He’d never want to own Yoo Joonghyuk. Yoo Joonghyuk was his own person and Kim Dokja respected him and the decisions he made.
No. He meant it like Yoo Joonghyuk being his. His romantic partner, and not his friend. Someone who’d choose Kim Dokja throughout everything, someone who would be a constant in his life and not something fleeting. Someone who would reach for his hand without hesitation, someone who would fall asleep next to him, and who would still be there when morning came. Someone who would look at him the way dream Joonghyuk did and meant it.
Kim Dokja sets the guitar aside, slowly and then he steps forward, until he's close enough that the rest of the room fades into nothing and all he can see now is Yoo Joonghyuk. Close enough that Yoo Joonghyuk could see the faint flush spread across Kim Dokja’s cheeks, close enough to notice how Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips were parted slightly, close enough that if Kim Dokja leaned in just a little more—
Kim Dokja opens his mouth to speak, and the words come out quieter than he expected. “I didn't say what I meant to say because I wanted the real Yoo Joonghyuk to hear it instead,” he says carefully, “What I meant to say at that time was: the number of places I'd take you if only you were mine.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s breath hitches. It's barely audible, but it's there and Kim Dokja hears it like the loudest thing in the room. For a moment, everything goes still. There’s no movement, no sound, just Kim Dokja staring into Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes like he was anchoring himself with them—like if he looked away now he’d slip away from his grasp.
After a long moment, Kim Dokja takes it upon himself to speak once more. “So… what do we do now?” he asks, tentatively, like he's scared of what will follow.
Yoo Joonghyul lets out a small, nervous huff, the tension in his chest loosening just enough for him to breathe again, but it doesn’t disappear completely. It just shifts into something lighter—warmer, but still overwhelming. “Well,” he says, “we could keep dreaming about it.”
Kim Dokja tilts his head, eyes flickering across his face. “Or?”
Yoo Joonghyuk hesitates for a moment before he reaches out and takes Kim Dokja’s hand. The small contact of hands grazing against each other sends something rushing through his arm, and Kim Dokja thinks he could get high off it. “Or we could try it for real,” he murmurs, gaze flicking down to Kim Dokja’s full, pink lips, before turning back to his eyes.
Kim Dokja’s expression softens, and then slowly, a smile blooms across his face, and he sees the way Yoo Joonghyuk follows, and it's brighter than any dream he has lived in the past month, and feels so unreal that Kim Dokja believes he might still be dreaming. But he's not. He knows he's not. Yoo Joonghyuk is right here, hand in hand with him, and Kim Dokja can feel the warmth radiating off of him that it leaves Kim Dokja feeling toasty under his AC air.
“I think I like the second option better.”
That’s all Yoo Joonghyuk needs to hear before he presses his lips against Kim Dokja’s.
And for the first time since the dreams started, Kim Dokja doesn’t want to fall asleep at all.