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She had watched Dokja for weeks, noticing the way he squinted at his books, the way he rubbed his temples to soothe a headache he never complained about. Kim Dokja had always been a child that endured things silently, a habit likely born of survival.
Then came that night. His husband’s fist caught Dokja across the face, leaving him falling to the floor, bruised and bloodied. She crawled across the cold tiles, knees bruising against broken glass, she gathered her precious son into her arms and murmured sweet nothings as he trembled.
“It’s okay,” she whispered desperately. “It’s okay, Dokja, Mom’s here, Mom’s here….”
Dokja’s hand searched weakly before touching her wrist. “Mom, are you crying? I am sorry, Mom, I can't see you. But, don't cry, I am okay. Mom, I am okay.”
The breath was practically yanked from her lungs, and the dark, cold, wretched place she called home seemingly shattered before her alongside her foolish, foolish hope.
Her son had gone blind.
Sookyung felt less than human, much less a mother, because this is what was the final thread for her to finally report her husband and run away from home. It was her greatest regret. Not the bruises on her own skin, but the light that had been stolen from her son because she hadn't left fast enough.
Sookyung sold almost everything they owned, anything that could become money, because government aid barely stretched far enough. They moved into a small village where living was cheaper and society wouldn't be so hard. Though, who was she kidding? Society would still blame and judge her and her son despite them being the victims of abuse, not the abusers. There is just something so interesting about a desperate single mother with her blind son, and people chewed on it in different ways. Some of them came with pity and a false sense of compassion.
She swallowed the humiliation of others' aid and neighborly charity. She was aware that they needed it, Dokja needed it, and she already failed him many times. She would not let her pride cost her son anymore. If she heard the villagers whisper how pathetic they were, Sookyung swallowed every insult whole.
She worked harder to pay whoever had helped her. She returned the money, returned the goods with something she earned, paid them back with labor, or with other favors. She would not remain indebted. She would work herself to the bone to ensure that while Dokja’s eyes were broken, his mother’s dignity and his future remained upright.
Meanwhile, Dokja adapted. Children adapted frighteningly quickly, she realized. At first, he stumbled often to the point that she was afraid of leaving him alone in their new home. Yes, that shabby building covered with moss was, at least, something she can call home. Then he began to reacquaint himself with the world through sounds. His attempts were clumsy and awkward, as if he was afraid that the sound would shy away from him, as if the sounds could lie to him, as if it was a teasing game that he would lose badly often times.
Sookyung believed that her son reads, about the sound of the footsteps, breathing, fabric rustling, the creaking floorboards inside their home. And then when he was brave enough, came the touch. She nearly choked her lungs out in the night when she silently sobbed after Dokja tried to trace her face with his finger. “So I don't forget how beautiful my mother is,” he so innocently said.
One day he told her the subtle differences between the morning wind and the evening wind. Though his tone sounded like he was joking, she knew that it was genuine. As Dokja grew, she began to accept that her son was simply reading the world in a different manner now. Her chest still ached every time she looked at his closed eyes. But Dokja smiled more now, and each smile carved fresh guilt into Sookyung’s heart while soothing it all the same.
The child would often sit quietly near windows as if listening to sunlight he could no longer properly see. His left eye had lost vision entirely, meanwhile the right was so heavily damaged that Dokja would prefer not to use it at all because it made him sick, the kind of sick that didn't only stop at migraines, but was also severe enough to leave him bedridden. Eventually, Dokja simply began keeping both eyes closed.
She watched him grow into a man who lived by sound and touch. He became a teacher, memorizing the different weights of his students' footsteps and the specific rustle of their papers. He listened carefully to each of them, speaking gently, teaching them patiently. And the kids became attached to him, she already saw it beforehand when she visited the school. The children were using any way possible to fuss over him.
“Careful, Seonsaengnim, there’s a step.”
“Seonsaengnim, I’ll hand you the paper.”
“Here's the chalk, Seonsaengnim.”
“Kim Seonsaengnim, what do you have for lunch? My mother packed me a special lunch box today! It's delicious! You should have some!”
“Oh, you can taste mine too!”
“This stir fry is from the vegetables in my garden, I grew them myself! I'll feed you a bunch of this!”
“Kids…” Dokja sighed exaggeratedly, “you won't grow taller if you keep giving your food to me!”
The said kids rolled their eyes in unison and began to list 101 reasons why their teacher should eat more.
Dokja let the students take care of him because he said it made them happy to play the role of responsible adults. And Dokja doted on the students heavily. The children, they're fierce. Sookyung was afraid they would stomp on a whole rosebush flat if even a single thorn dared graze their teacher’s delicate skin. So yes, they're fierce and brutal, she mused. The thought came one day when Dokja told her that he was banned from the school kitchen because he tried to mix rice with pasta and add red ginger paste to a matcha brew in cooking class.
“Kim Seonsaengnim shouldn't be allowed to handle any cooking, seeing or not.”
“Yeah,” chirped the other, “it's disastrous for mankind.”
When Dokja gasped in offense, they were quick to soothe him with cookies and warm tea. They collectively shepherded him into a chair, draped a blanket across his knees, and set a book on his lap before getting back to cook with the other teacher, Jang Hayoung, who watched the whole interaction with bemusement.
Sookyung believed that she deserved to laugh out loud at her son's face after that story, causing him to pout adorably. Oh, his lovely, lovely son. How immeasurably grateful she was that her son could grow to love and to be loved in return.
Later, when Dokja received remote contract work from a company called Minosoft, Sookyung worried endlessly. Seoul was crowded, cruel, and ever so fast-moving.
Dokja simply reassured her, “I only need to go there for meetings sometimes, Mom. The rest of the work, I can do it from home!”
Sookyung resisted the urge to accompany her son to the city, but the man sensed it anyway and protested, no, whined, “Mom… I am not a child anymore!”
How can she explain to him that no matter how old, how tall he grew, he would still be her precious, precious child? When her son arrived home from the first meeting of his first project, Sookyung waited with a meal ready at the dining table. Dokja, as if sensing his mother's restlessness, gave her a quick hug and began narrating his day.
“Remember Sangah-ssi, the one that interviewed me before?”
She remembered, it was the woman who said, “Our company values people who think differently about systems,” when she called to inform Dokja that he’d been hired. “We also believe your intelligence and attention to detail will be invaluable to this project’s success, Dokja-ssi.”
It was a professional statement, but Sookyung heard it as encouragement from someone so humble who can appreciate her son beyond what other people usually see at first glance.
“She called me when I was on the way to check on me. And she also waited for me in front of the building.”
Sookyung let out a breath. “That was kind of her.”
Dokja smiled and began to dig at his meal. “I think so too.”
Sookyung noted that she should pack something for this Sangah girl when Dokja went to his next meeting as she swiped the rice from her son’s cheek.
“Tch, what a grown man you are, still eating messily.”
Dokja’s mouth twitched. “Mom…”
Sookyung just chuckled and continued to watch her only child eat. She had seen the way he navigated the world, she saw enough to know that her precious son didn't need sight to see through people, and that he would be okay, seeing or not.
[Incoming Call: usseless manager]
"Joonghyuk-ssi! Listen, something urgent came up with the sponsor. It's a total mess here! Anyway, I’ll explain later. You’re already near the station, right? Just go to that company, start the briefing without me. I’ll see you in the meeting!"
Click.
Joonghyuk stared at his dead screen, barely resisting the urge to throw the phone. Bihyung was useless. Joonghyuk had already refused this project, only relenting because the manager had pestered him until his ears bled. He was practically fuming and stomped his way toward the destination. Now, he was standing in a crowded intersection near Minosoft, in a foul mood, and-
Thud.
Someone collided with him, hard.
"Are you fucking blind? Watch where you're going," Joonghyuk snarled. He didn't have the patience for any more idiocy today.
The man that bumped into him unfortunately stumbled, his belongings clattering onto the pavement. When he looked down, Joonghyuk’s irritation was instantly replaced by cold realization, soon followed by a horrified “shit.” Because the stranger's eyes were closed behind tinted lenses, and he was holding a cane.
The man forced a polite smile at him and said, “Sorry.” Joonghyuk certainly didn't imagine a dash of sarcasm in that word. The stranger, who was apparently visually impaired, began to collect his things while Joonghyuk just stood there, paralyzed by his own conscience. Joonghyuk bit his tongue and finally gathered enough wits to crouch down and help him. The stranger just gave him a quiet and dismissive, "Thank you, you don't have to," which prickled his guilt even more.
Joonghyuk made an effort to subtly observed him. The man’s eyes were closed behind the photochromic lenses of his glasses, pale skin, thin lips, he wore a white coat and a light blue button-down. The progamer blinked and suddenly the satchel was already clasped shut and the stranger was standing on his own two feet. Joonghyuk saw him walk away and move his cane to find the yellow textured guiding paths thingy on the road while the crowd moved unforgivingly around him.
He couldn't help but feel an unfamiliar sense of worry. He checked the time and deemed there’s still enough time before the meeting, so he walked after him and said, “Let me,” before trying to help carrying his bag. The man in the white coat resisted while saying, "I am blind, not incapacitated."
Joonghyuk hesitated before saying, "Just... just let me do this," as an apology, he didn't say.
The stranger was suspiciously quiet for several seconds and Joonghyuk already braced himself for another rejection. So he certainly wasn’t equipped to deal with it when the man unexpectedly smiled, a genuine smile so dazzling it left Joonghyuk stunned.
"How can I know that you wouldn't just run away with my things?" he said instead of accepting the offer.
Joonghyuk scoffed, but he took the bag anyway. He also took the stranger's hand and put it on his arm. "Here, so you can catch me if I try to run."
The shorter man raised his head and 'looked' at him, seemingly amused. "You don't even know where I want to go."
"Then tell me."
“What if it's far away from here? Don't you have other things to do?"
"I'll drop you somewhere less crowded."
He hummed and nodded slowly at that. "Okay then. Could you get me to Minosoft, Mr. Stranger? The building is just a few minutes away, actually."
"Yoo Joonghyuk," is what the progamer socially grunted.
The man beside him smiled even wider. "Then, would you have the pleasure to take me there, Joonghyuk-ssi?"
"Sure," but Joonghyuk didn't move.
The stranger tugged at him and tilted his head in confusion. The crowd was still moving around them, but Joonghyuk insisted on standing still like a stone. "Is there a problem?"
The man in black jacket looked to the side and muttered, "Your name."
"Huh?" The other moved closer in attempt to hear him better and the sudden proximity took Joonghyuk by surprise. "Sorry, I didn't quite hear..."
"I said, your name."
"Oh." He took a step back and seemingly digested the question before laughing. The sound of it made Joonghyuk's ears feel warm.
"Ah, sorry, I didn't mean to." He took a breath. "It was just surprisingly... cute."
Joonghyuk huffed and began walking. "Forget it."
"Ah, wait." Joonghyuk did slow his pace and looked at him.
"It's Kim Dokja. My name."
He looked ahead and feigned ignorance even when Dokja couldn't see his expression. "Kim Dokja," he muttered, and Dokja hummed in affirmation. Joonghyuk kept wading through the crowd, a new weight in both his arms but now with a tiny weeny smile on his lips.
Joonghyuk asked Dokja if he worked at Minosoft, and Dokja answered that he was just a contracted QA, usually he worked from home, but today there was a meeting for a new project he was in. Joonghyuk asked what project, and when Dokja explained it, Joonghyuk felt a grin form on his face alongside a sense of wonder and smugness that he couldn't explain where it could possibly come from.
Dokja seemed to sense his mood improved from his tone as he nudged Joonghyuk with his elbow. "Why do you sound happy about this?"
"I am not," he denied too quickly and immediately regretted it when he saw Dokja's amused expression. Joonghyuk rolled his eyes and made an exaggerated gesture while at it, shoulders and all, which Dokja responded to with a gentle smack on the arm.
Joonghyuk finally explained that he was going to the same meeting, as a progamer, the company contracted him to be a tester and help develop the game's ranked system. Dokja just responded with a "huh" to that information and murmured that coincidences do work in strange ways. As they continued to talk, mostly Dokja answered Joonghyuk’s curiosity about how he worked as a game QA, the walk to Minosoft felt too short, to Joonghyuk’s disappointment.
Joonghyuk was aware that he was kinda famous, but it didn't make him less annoyed when he arrived at the company and everyone looked at him with shocked reactions. A woman in a brown suit approached them in the lobby with a briefly surprised expression before quickly shifting to a more neutral and professional one. Though not everyone succeeded in doing the same and openly stared at the way Dokja placed his hand on Joonghyuk’s arm.
"Good morning, Dokja-ssi.” She smiled gently at the man beside him. “And you must be Joonghyuk-ssi. Both of you are early today."
Dokja smiled at the subtle confusion and question in her tone. "Morning to you too, Sangah-ssi. Yes, glad I could make it here.” He laughed weakly. “It's very crowded out there, fortunately, I met Joonghyuk-ssi on the way and he was kind enough to help me."
Sangah looked at Joonghyuk, but the stoic man didn't give any confirmation or a change in expression. So she didn't pry further and guided them to the meeting room. On the way there, Dokja leaned in and whispered something toward Joonghyuk. He could hear the passing employees gasp but easily ignored them to focus on a more important thing, namely, Dokja’s warm breath against his cheek.
"That's Yoo Sangah. I guess she handles remote workers or contractors like me. But I think she doesn't need to wait for me every time I come to a meeting so she can accompany me to the room. That's just so kind of her, don't you think?" Joonghyuk just grunted at that, sounding somewhat reluctant to approve of her. Unbeknownst to him, Dokja caught this and decided to keep it to himself; he just smiled when Joonghyuk wrapped an arm around his shoulder to guide him toward the lift.
Sangah took them to one side of the long table and gestured. "Dokja-ssi can sit here."
So Joonghyuk put Dokja’s belongings there and helped him sit, which Dokja appreciated with a small thanks (and embarrassment). Joonghyuk didn't understand why Dokja looked flustered, though the man did a good job of hiding it. That certainly didn't prevent him from plopping down into the seat beside him, though, much to everyone's bewilderment. Dokja was quiet after that, and Joonghyuk wondered if he felt uncomfortable or if he could sense the many eyes that were already on them. Disgruntled, Joonghyuk valiantly glared at those pesky eyes, which immediately looked away in panic.
People trickled in, and after that, the meeting started. It went on for hours, quite long for a kickoff meeting, Joonghyuk noted. Bihyung actually scrambled into the conference room twenty minutes late, looking disheveled and smelling of cheap coffee. He slid into the empty chair next to Joonghyuk while whispering a frantic, "Sorry, sorry," then tried to open his laptop.
Joonghyuk didn't even turn his head, much less greet him. Throughout the entire presentation, whenever Bihyung tried to lean over to whisper a note or a suggestion, Joonghyuk would simply hum halfheartedly. It was a stark contrast to how he would look at the man on the other side of him, and how his eyes glinted in interest every time Dokja said something in the discussion.
As the meeting wrapped up and Kim Dokja stood to gather his things, Bihyung tried to talk to Joonghyuk, but he waved the manager off and said, "Save it.” Joonghyuk adjusted his jacket, his eyes flicking briefly toward Kim Dokja before looking back at Bihyung. “I need to go now,” then he added, “I’ll see you at the HQ,” just to be petty.
He strategically placed his hand on Dokja’s back and gently ushered him out of the room, ignoring how Bihyung gawked at them. But before that, Dokja stopped to talk to the woman from before. “Sangah-ssi. It's not much, but my mother was really happy she could prepare this for you.”
“Ah, you don't need to give me something every time, Dokja-ssi.”
“Well, my mother likes to give you things. I am sorry if it's uncomfortable for you, but please take it? At least for her peace of mind.”
She smiled weakly. “Then I'll gladly have this. Please say my thanks to her?”
“Of course, Sangah-ssi. Thank you for today.”
As soon as they left the room and Dokja was done saying goodbye to Sangah, Joonghyuk asked, “Why did your mother gift her something?”
Dokja smiled. “Because she likes her,” he said rather proudly.
Somehow that answer only raised even more illogical questions in Joonghyuk’s mind. But he shook away all that nonsense and asked the more logical one instead: “Do you have anywhere to go after this?"
"Not really."
"Do you live far?"
Dokja said it was some stations away and then he needed to switch to a different line. Joonghyuk noted that it was indeed far, in another city, apparently.
"You took the train, then? Let me go with you to the station."
"What? No, you don't need to." It upset him that Dokja sounded genuinely perplexed by the offer.
“Don't worry, I take the subway too, though my stop is much closer.”
Dokja didn't answer for quite some time. “If you say so. You better not be making that up, Joonghyuk-ssi.”
Joonghyuk snorted. “Why would I? But we’re stopping by a shop first.”
“Sure. Did you need to buy something?”
Joonghyuk hummed as he closed and pocketed his phone. “My sister asked me to buy cream buns. And hotteok.”
“Oh, you have a sister?”
“A little sister.” Joonghyuk absentmindedly reached for Dokja’s bag and grabbed his arm. He paused when he looked at Dokja’s annoying(ly adorable) smile. “What?” he gruffed, suddenly feeling offended for no apparent reason.
“No,” the gremlin grinned, “I just imagined a shorter, cuter version of you and hoped that the sister is not as gloomy as the brother.”
Joonghyuk felt his brow twitch. He huffed and decided to say, “She's more... socially competent than me.”
Dokja laughed at that, and Joonghyuk didn't know if he should swoon or scowl.
“Did you really just say that, Joonghyuk-ssi?”
“Shut up.”
He tugged at the smaller man’s arm to get him moving already. And Dokja did move, with a slight bounce in his step. They walked to the station while talking amiably, well, kind of, if Joonghyuk’s grunted responses and Dokja’s incessant teasing could be called that. Joonghyuk tried to buy Dokja hotteok and cream buns too, but he vigorously refused. Joonghyuk clicked his tongue and settled on asking Dokja to share the hotteok with him while they waited for the subway.
They boarded the same carriage, sitting side by side with their arms and knees touching. In the temporary lull of their conversation, Dokja leaned on the backrest and sighed softly.
“Tired?”
A smile. “No, I'm having fun, actually. I guess I'm really glad to meet you, Joonghyuk-ssi. You're not as bad as the first time we-”
Joonghyuk groaned. “Don't remind me.”
Dokja laughed when Joonghyuk buried his face in his hands. Then an announcement rang through the train. “It's your stop.” Dokja so helpfully pointed out.
Joonghyuk slid his hands off his face and resisting another urge to wail. “Yes.”
He looked at Dokja and found the man was biting his poor lip, fingers playing with the satchel in his lap. “Uhm, I guess I'll see you at the next meeting?”
Joonghyuk couldn't help but huff a laugh at the familiarity of that sentence. “Sure. See you in next meeting, Dokja.”
In the end, after the train doors closed behind him, Joonghyuk ruffled his hair and groaned, “I should’ve asked.”