Chapter Text
It was sad that the best place Kim Dokja had lived since fleeing from his relatives’ home was the tiny apartment he had managed to snag out of what seemed like pure luck when he had come back from his military service.
It was an alright place by itself. It had a microwave, a place for a futon, and places to hang up his few pieces of clothing. There was a toilet and even a shower that could barely fit him, which was already a step up from his old place. It was like a closet compared to the more-decent apartments in the complex, but that was fine. And best of all, it didn’t take up all of his meager paycheck to support himself there each month. Not a bad place at all. No rats, at any rate.
He had certainly lived in worse places, but even he could admit that his tiny apartment wasn’t comfortable when the elements started to get a little hot. The room would become unbearably stuffy as the sunlight through the broken blinds would heat the air in the room like an oven, but opening the window did little. Buying a little fan was a waste of both power and money, and it would only move the hot air in the room anyway.
So, he often found himself sitting outside near the brick wall at the edge of the apartment complex underneath one of the trees that decorated the meager property. He could people-watch there, though he didn’t often look up from his phone or from the occasional chosen book he had borrowed from the local library. He had done this often enough that he was pretty sure he had seen everyone else who had lived in the small apartment building with him.
It was mostly single people, though everyone mostly kept to themselves. Some notable figures included an ahjussi who would come home with a shining head in the late evening sunlight with a loose tie and reeking of cigarette smoke and alcohol that would grumble if he caught Kim Dokja looking at him. There was a halmeoni who lived on the bottom floor alone who tended to the small flower bed near Kim Dokja’s tree, keeping the landscape looking nice. There was man about his age who had a young daughter that Kim Dokja would occasionally see with a babysitter whenever her dad would get in a car and leave. And there was a pair of same-gender housemates that, judging by the noises that came from above Kim Dokja’s room, were probably more than just friends.
Kim Dokja kept his head down and minded his business. He’d never been the type to get particularly friendly with his neighbors…or anyone at all, for that matter. He often made sure nobody looked at him too hard, and that he always sat on the apartment side of the brick wall just in case any camera lenses were waiting for him on the other side. His mother's book had somehow been put on a list of must-reads in a recent popular magazine segment, and it had unfortunately sparked a new bout of curious eyes. He didn't want to deal with that nonsense a second time, and he hoped that due to his time in the military, tracking him won't be so easy.
Anyway, despite his lack of talking to them, that didn’t stop his neighbors from trying to occasionally interact with him. He didn’t come off as sociable, but he had one of those faces that people seemed to let their guard down around. People looked at him and seemed to think he was someone who easily became captured in social interactions out of politeness—especially if they were older than him. They were right, sometimes, but that was usually because it was easier to just let whoever ramble at him ramble so they would leave faster.
So, it came as no surprise that even a child would look at him and would feel emboldened to bother him.
She was the little girl who lived with her father a floor up and some doors down from Kim Dokja. She liked to dress in bright pastel colors despite the stains she would inevitably get on them that all young children often accumulated, and her wavy black hair was often pulled into pigtails or a ponytail. It was always done in a tidy way, no doubt by skilled fatherly hands, and the little girl seemed to care greatly about making sure her hair stayed nice whenever Kim Dokja saw her.
Usually she had someone by her side, but surprisingly on this hot evening, she was alone down in the little garden in the middle of the square of apartments as she stood over Kim Dokja, who had been enjoying his alone time in the cooling summer air before he would have to go back to his stuffy room. He stopped mid-bite of the ice cream bites he had decided to indulge in just this once as a treat after a rough day of job-hunting, and he stared up at the little girl before him. He hesitated to greet her.
“What’s that?” she asked instead of greeting him first, pointing at the bag of ice cream bites on the ground next to him. Despite probably only being at most four or five, she stood like she towered over Kim Dokja's sitting form.
Kim Dokja glanced around them, wondering where her father was. That guy always had this intense look on his face that made it feel like he was ready to fight someone at all times. He didn’t want any misunderstandings. It wasn’t like they were that far from her apartment, so he wasn’t particularly worried about trouble, but he didn’t exactly feel safe with being alone with a child this young. Surely this would bring trouble for him. It would be best to just answer her questions and get her to return home quickly.
“Hello to you too. This is ice cream,” he said, keeping his tone light and polite as he tried not to show his irritation. She was interrupting his reading time, and it was right when tls123 had finally updated for today. He had been waiting for this newest chapter all day.
“Want some,” the little girl said, holding her hand out, palm up, in a demand. She had a stern face that looked extremely similar to her father’s, based on the few times he had spotted them in passing. The stern look didn’t suit her round, childish face.
He wasn't sure if he found the rude and baffling demand of food from a stranger kind of endearing in its audacity, or straight up annoying.
“I'm sorry, but these are mine.”
Her brows furrowed as she puffed her cheeks out in a telltale pout.
“Want some…please,” she repeated with all the gall of a child who seemed to understand that using certain words mattered, but not what mattered about them, and not sounding particularly like she was asking as she shook the hand she held out in emphasis.
He felt even less inclined to give her any, even as his amusement spiked a bit.
“Where’s your father? Shouldn’t you be at home?” She gave him a confused look now, so he clarified, “You should ask your father to give you a treat, not strangers. That's dangerous.”
“Ahjussi,” the little girl said solemnly like Kim Dokja was the one being difficult. The word made him flinch. "It's just ice cream."
He didn’t know where she was getting her logic from, nor what she was trying to argue, but he felt like she had a fair point. Although he didn’t feel particularly good to be called an ahjussi at his age (he was young enough that she should call him oppa…right? Maybe it was because her father didn’t look any older than he did), he couldn’t help his sigh. It was too much of a hassle to try to argue when he just wanted this interaction to end.
“Just one,” he told her, reaching into the bag of melting ice cream bites to hand one to her. “Eat it quickly, though. It’s hot out–”
He didn’t even finish what he had to say before she was shoving the bite into her mouth with so much enthusiasm that she had to hold her chewing mouth shut with her little hands. Her dark eyes sparkled, lighting up her young face with joy as she hummed with happiness. However, that pleasure rapidly transformed upon swallowing. Her eyes went round, and she made distressed, high-pitched noises as she stomped and waved her hands, shaking her head. Kim Dokja panicked a little at the sight.
“Wh-What’s wrong?” he asked as he climbed quickly to his feet.
“Ahhh, hurts! Cold!” the little girl cried, watering eyes squeezing shut from what was no-doubt a brain freeze. She panted heavily and pressed her hands to either side of her head as if she could squeeze out the pain while Kim Dokja could only watch helplessly. Should he tell her that she had eaten it too quickly? His own jaw hurt with sympathy for her plight.
“You!”
A deep, booming voice had him startling as a new figure appeared, scooping the little girl up. The little girl’s father stood over him with a furious look significantly more powerful and intimidating than the child’s as he checked over the girl.
“Mia, what wrong?" He immediately turned to Kim Dokja and gritted out, "What the hell did you feed her? Answer me!”
“It was just ice cream,” Kim Dokja hurried to explain only to wither back from the force of the death glare he got from the man in response.
“Why did you give her that?” the man demanded.
“She asked–”
“Why is she in pain, then?”
“Cold!” Mia whined, eyes a little teary but overall looking better. She swallowed once before looking over at Kim Dokja and smiling, reaching another hand out to him. “Sweet food! Ahjussi, want more.”
Kim Dokja gave the father a helpless glance before he shook his head.
“Uh, I think that’s enough.”
“Mia, you can't take food from strangers,” the father scolded the little girl. “You don’t know what’s in them.”
“But I wanted something good,” she complained.
“I’m…sorry for giving her something she shouldn’t have,” Kim Dokja attempted to apologize, grimacing at causing problems.
The man glared at him more, but his anger seemed to have died off. He spoke stiffly as he opened Mia’s mouth to check on…whatever he was checking as he said, “Don’t do it again.”
Kim Dokja wanted to point out that it wasn’t his fault that this guy was letting his daughter just wander around on her own, but he knew better than to start a fight. This guy was probably a first time father, and a young one at that, but that didn’t mean he wanted to argue over parenting. He would give him a pass for being a jerk considering the circumstances.
“Well, I’m glad you found your kid. I was wondering where you were at,” Kim Dokja said instead, dusting the dirt off of the bottom of his pants as he prepared to leave. He grabbed his remaining ice cream bites. “She’s not usually alone.”
The man paused for a moment, glancing up to the second floor where Kim Dokja knew their apartment was, before looking back at Mia and saying, “…She wasn’t supposed to be out here.”
“Wanted to see the flowers,” Mia explained, pointing at the nearby flowers.
“Don’t come out here without me next time.”
“Sorry, obabunny…”
Kim Dokja couldn't help himself as he teased, "Interesting way to say dad."
The man shot him another glare as he adjusted the girl in his arms.
“My sister,” the man (not a young father, apparently) clarified in a clipped tone that made Kim Dokja think he had been uninvited from this conversation some time ago and that he really should just stop talking to this family right now.
“...Right.”
He felt awkward, so he decided it would be best to beat a hasty retreat. There were better things he could be doing right now rather than be suffering in company that didn’t want him there.
“I’ll just…go then.”
He pointed to the apartment building, though he wasn’t completely sure why. Perhaps he just wanted to reassure the guy that he wasn’t some creep who was hiding near trees and giving sweets to random little girls. He usually didn't care what people thought about him, but he didn't particularly want to live in proximity to someone who might get the wrong idea of him.
“I live here. On the bottom floor.”
The man stared him down. Kim Dokja got the distinct impression that he wasn’t impressed with whatever he saw. Not that Kim Dokja wanted to impress him anyway, but the guy was objectively good-looking despite his somewhat wane appearance and dry skin. He had probably been kind of popular back in school, or was probably scouted to be a model off the streets.
“Wait!” Mia called as Kim Dokja attempted to leave. She reached out to him. “More! Just one!”
Her brother gave her a stern look.
“There's food in the house.”
“Gross plants! Yuck! Want ice cream!”
He felt some pity for the girl. All of the people living in this apartment complex all were clearly struggling in their own ways, and it was easy to tell just from the look of things. He didn’t know anything about their home life—nor was it his business—but there was always a look to people who didn't eat particularly well. Although the man in front of him didn’t look underweight or anything, he had a complexion that reminded Kim Dokja of when he was in worse straits than he was currently. It was the lack of fat or healthy glow to his pallid skin. His little sister was also lacking the plumpness of childhood that came from indulgence in sweets.
Kids should enjoy treats once in a while. It had been with his own money, but Kim Dokja didn’t really need the ice cream. It was half-melted anyway, and he didn’t have a freezer at his place. He could let these guys handle the mess of it all.
He handed the bag over.
“Here. You two can share the rest.”
The man frowned, but didn’t stop his sister from grabbing the bag with enthusiasm. He seemed more confused than anything despite the glare on his face.
“...Why are you giving us this?”
There was suspicion in his tone as his eyes narrowed. Ugh, what a jerk. He really didn’t do anything to deserve this level of scrutiny. Couldn’t a neighbor just do a nice thing for a little kid?
He shrugged carelessly.
“She looks like she’d enjoy it more than me. And I’ve had my fill.”
He turned to leave, but something made him pause. It was an old memory from long ago. Although he hadn’t grown up in a single-parent household, he recognized it on sight. He had never seen another adult that looked anything like their family come and go from their apartment. And this man was too old to just be an elder sibling. The age gap was significant. He really could be the little girl’s parent if this man hadn't said what their exact relationship was. Something about it just bothered him.
…Maybe it was just the fact that this guy looked to be his age, and Kim Dokja couldn't imagine having to raise a child at this point in his life. Call it pity.
“...When I was little, it was the little treats that would really make my day,” he explained, glancing back at the brother and sister. The man moved his head away from his sister’s attempt to feed him some of the ice cream that was melting on her fingers. “It’s not much, but every kid deserves some sweets, right? Sweet treats and sweet memories."
"Food is eaten to live, not for the taste," the man rebuked.
"They say good food leads to a good life,” Kim Dokja responded.
He didn’t know why he was trying to give advice like he knew what he was talking about. He didn’t know anything about raising children. He was hardly one to talk about eating good food when he lived off of microwaved meals and recently-expired food he could buy from the corner store. Maybe that was exactly why he didn't have a good life.
But he felt just a little bad for Mia. Her expression upon eating the ice cream bites spoke of having never tried anything like it before in her short life.
The man didn't respond even as the girl finally forced the melted ice cream bite into his mouth. He chewed it with a distant look in his eyes. Was he actually taking Kim Dokja's words to heart? He looked like he was trying to discern some philosophical meaning from it all.
Kim Dokja prepared to leave, but paused when the man abruptly called out, “What's your name?”
He didn’t really want to give his name. Every time he did, he had to deal with the inevitable follow-up question about it being a strange name. He thought he’d had his fill of these two and really just wanted to get back to his stuffy apartment so he could read his new chapter in peace.
“Isn’t it only polite to give your name first?” he shot back, hoping to dissuade further conversation.
The man’s eye twitched, but he held back on making a face. Surprisingly, he said, “...Yu Junghyeok.”
And for a moment, Kim Dokja thought that he had heard wrong. Just hearing that name spoken out loud in a voice not his own had left his head blank.
He must have misheard.
“...Yu Junghyeok?”
Something guarded darted over the man’s features as he tensed, arms tightening a little around Mia.
“If you're a fan, mind my privacy,” he said.
But Kim Dokja wasn’t listening to him. Instead, he was looking at this person with brand new eyes.
Handsome features that couldn’t be hidden despite his skinny looks. Intense, dark eyes beneath straight, full eyebrows. A perfectly sculpted nose and jawline and frowning lips. Although this man could not be considered buff, his shoulders were quite wide even without the bulk of muscle. His skin wasn’t tanned from many hours in the sun or hard training, but Kim Dokja could certainly imagine it. His deep voice was exactly how he would've pictured it, should he have had to choose any kind of voice for Yu Junghyeok.
Goosebumps skittered across his skin. He felt like he was in shock and having a revelation at the same time. If it wasn’t for two pairs of critical eyes staring at him, he might have sunk deeper into his thoughts.
“Ah… Uh, I’m Kim Dokja,” he finally managed to get out after a moment. “Dokja as in…reader.”
Yu Junghyeok didn’t give the follow-up comment that Kim Dokja had expected, and instead only gave a nod. He didn’t say goodbye and simply walked away with his sister in his arms.
Mia—Yu Mia, Kim Dokja realized with a start—waved over her brother’s shoulder and called back, “Thanks, Ahjussi!” as they climbed the stairs back up to their floor.
Kim Dokja returned to his apartment. He closed the door behind him to stare at the opposite wall. His brain tried to process what had just happened.
"…Haha."
There was no way, right?
There was no way his favorite protagonist from his favorite web novel was living in the same apartment as him.
Yu Junghyeok looked nothing like the one from 『Three Ways to Survive an Apocalypse』. But at the same time, he did.
It wasn’t possible. This was a coincidence. Or just his active imagination. Maybe he had gone a little crazy after reading it for so long.
But that didn’t stop him from wondering.