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If Yoo Joonghyuk had any place to return to, it always trailed back to the subway.
Five minutes before the tragedy of his life would make itself known, loop back, and he’d be rooted in the same spot once more. He had grown familiar with the structure of the place that made him a regressor, to the point where he could map all the stars that he hated in the night sky, their gazes full of mirth as he was made a puppet in their play.
Cabin 3707 was his home by definition. If that was true, Yoo Joonghyuk never wanted to go home.
Perhaps that was why he wouldn’t–couldn’t allow himself to rest these days, even when nothing pushed him to stay in motion, where desperation became his driving force to move forward. In the depths of space, the cosmos would fail to understand why Yoo Joonghyuk remained afloat, when everything was over, where in his worldline, a real home was a tangible thing he could allow himself to indulge into. How could he, when the person who built this home, left without even leaving a room for themselves? The same person who ripped it from him, just to rebuild scraps of a home out of their desolation, but created with such tenderness that Joonghyuk knew that it was made for him.
What was the point of having the candle, if there was no match to cast a fire? The room would remain dark, and he would linger amongst the shadows, wishing for light.
In the vastness of time, Joonghyuk had forgotten what that person had looked like. Now, staring into the eyes that watched over his existence for the longest time, he realized that the brightness of all the combined stars in the universe could never amount to the stardust that swirled in Kim Dokja’s eyes. Eyes he waited an eternity to gaze into. Something that he would do all over again, if it meant that it led to this moment, where he stood by the doorway of a warm apartment, light filtering through the glass panes and shadows only heightened on the floor, because what truly lingered was the comfort and the weight of Dokja’s gaze only at him, only for him.
And the sweet melody of his long forgotten voice fell on Joonghyuk’s ears once again.
“Oh? Joonghyuk-ah, you have a shoot this morning. Why are you still here?”
Home. What exactly was it? Was it this man that held entire galaxies together, the thread that pieced him together as an incarnation? This man, unbeknownst to his own power, still bed-ridden and beautiful?
Standing in the apartment, a few meters away from Kim Dokja, Yoo Joonghyuk came to a conclusion.
He always craved home.
“Kim Dokja…”
Inevitably, he moved towards the pull of the man, like an asteroid drawn to an orbit. Gravity increased the more he reached out, and he found himself cradling the star in his arms. A star he had long awaited to meet once more, a thousand years before. He buried his face on the crook of Dokja’s neck, breathing in the fragrance that carried the morning bed, vanilla, and pages and ink. He nuzzled while tightening the embrace, which had Dokja smacking Joonghyuk’s back.
“Bastard, I can’t breathe!” He squirmed underneath the taller man’s weight. “You’re about to crush me!”
“No.” Relief worked its way in Joonghyuk’s heart, feeling the warmth of Dokja around him. He’s safe. He’s alive. He’s with me.
He felt around the planes of Dokja’s back, his waist, and up to his shoulders. Real, and very much here.
“Your clinginess will be your downfall one day, you know.” Dokja wheezed, giving up on prying Joonghyuk off him. “You’re the only one crazy enough to risk a perfectly good job because you couldn’t be kept away from your partner.”
“Jobs are fleeting.”
(“What would be the point of those, without you?” Goes unsaid. Joonghyuk recalls the two years he lived after his last regression, where he could move on from the scenarios, live normally because he had the opportunity, yet chose not to. Because the fool who knew everything about Yoo Joonghyuk, who might know how he could live without the regressions, wasn’t there by his side.)
“We are poor. We can’t afford to lose your job.”
“...”
Joonghyuk shifts back his weight, still wrapping Dokja with his arms. He watches as Dokja sucks in the air, chest rising and falling, his eyes a bit unfocused. His hair stuck out in different places, and even when bags hung underneath his eyes, Joonghyuk noticed how his skin was soft, full, unlike the Kim Dokja he knew that was lean but firm. This Dokja took care of himself. And seeing him healthy, Joonghyuk thought he got even prettier.
Dokja scoffs. “You’re doing that face again.”
“...Face?”
“Your pathetic staring face. Which is weird, especially with your attire. Did you rush back home wearing your shoot clothing?”
Joonghyuk scowls, his relaxed brows furrowing. “What I am wearing is essential in the apocalypse.”
Dokja lets out a genuine laugh, and Joonghyuk thinks it's the most soothing sound he’s ever heard. “Did you just reference Ways Of Survival? Tell me, sunfish bastard, are you the protagonist because you’re Yoo Joonghyuk or are you Yoo Joonghyuk because you’re the protagonist?”
…He should be grateful that his companion is painfully unaware. The fool seems to always run his mouth, apocalypse or none. Dokja giggled at his frown anyway, his head lying on Joonghyuk’s chest as his laughs developed into puffs.
“God, I really might die of asphyxiation. You don’t even have a sense of humor.” he huffed, looking up at the taller man.
Suddenly, he leans closer to Joonghyuk’s space, and their breaths mingle within their proximity. It fanned, heat swirling around their faces.
Was it the heat fogging his brain? He couldn’t look anywhere else.
“Watch where you’re staring, jagiya.” Dokja smirked before placing his lips on the taller man. A single, innocent touch capable of sending an electric touch to Joonghyuk’s entire body, making him freeze on the spot.
Joonghyuk wanted to move towards the pressure of Dokja’s lips, churn it, and consume it entirely. Until he could etch the weight of it against his forever, another keepsake from a worldline not his, another remembrance from lives he did not live. To keep living for the life he would continue to live, hoping that Kim Dokja would eventually come home and not a mere memory to keep.
If only Dokja didn’t pull away right after.
“I’m not going to kiss you because you stink.” Dokja pats him gently, oblivious to the mess he’s created in Joonghyuk’s mind. “Clean yourself up, or I’ll actually think that you’re Yoo Joonghyuk that lives in the apocalypse.”
Dokja doesn’t walk away before placing another kiss on Joonghyuk’s cheek. And Joonghyuk wants to pull him back into a hug and continue what they were doing earlier, to hold him so tight that he can’t get away.
He doesn’t, because Dokja told him he stinks. And because he knows he shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be in the vicinity of this Dokja, stealing moments that aren’t meant to be his. He is dwelling in ephemeral happiness that he could be content with for just a second, before the want, the need for Kim Dokja devours his being.
Yoo Joonghyuk mustn't stay here. Perhaps he is the bigger fool between them, because he does.
He prays that he does not unravel.
There was something so profoundly home about the apartment, the way decor collected dust at the edges, yellow grew on a plant’s leaves, how random the assortment of items were placed on the shelves, and the tidied pairs of shoes stood by the doorway. It was a place that preserved all the beauty of Dokja and Joonghyuk’s lives, slowly wearing away by time, that stepping on the tiled floor felt like intruding a sacred space that should not be crossed.
Yoo Joonghyuk was incredibly envious of Yoo Joonghyuk. At least he knows that Kim Dokja is happy and cherished.
Said man stepped out of the kitchen, chewing eggs from the bowl he was holding. “Staring at our shrines, huh?”
…There was no shrine, though?
Dokja deadpans. “I don’t mean it literally, Yoo Joonghyuk.”
“You now talk like Han Sooyoung.”
“That happens when you’re close to someone, obviously.”
Joonghyuk stares. He wouldn’t know, because he never allowed anyone to get close to him. Even if he vividly lived through a few rounds, the rest being scattered memories that were erased from his mind, the losses were enough to scar. After all, like Sooyoung said, no trauma was ever that small.
Or, in some way, he’s all of his companions’ combined strength. That alone was impactful enough to influence him.
Dokja sighs, wrapping his arm around Joonghyuk’s, leaning on his shoulder. “I wanna get the paperback version of Sooyoung’s new novel…”
Joonghyuk looks at the shelves displayed in front of him, filled to the brim with books, some tattered and growing yellow. Very Dokja-esque.
Dokja looks up at him, another comment rolling off his tongue. “Before you say anything else, the volumes are collectibles. It won’t be a waste of money because I’m helping a friend out…!”
“I’m not against your books, Kim Dokja. You just don’t have to read it all alone.” Joonghyuk grunts.
(Dokja. A reader, and alone. He took on battles himself, doing yet again his self-sacrificial tendencies, read WOS until he could state every arc that happened in that webnovel, until it sealed his fate, one that led to eternity.
If there was anything Yoo Joonghyuk wanted to change from the past, it would be Dokja’s isolation. To stop taking the pain all for himself, instead share it with Joonghyuk, so that he wouldn’t be alone again, reading in a desolate subway cabin.)
“You’ll read with me?” Dokja’s eyes shine of a thousand illuminated stars, and Joonghyuk becomes afraid of spilling all his love right there.
“I’ll read with you.”
Dokja smiles. A real, genuine smile that Joonghyuk hadn’t recalled seeing in a long time. It was always one of those cheeky grins to scam the constellations of their money… He was glad to see his star shining even without an audience.
All of a sudden, Dokja pokes the side of his mouth. “Staring again, Joonghyuk-ah. Don’t you get tired of looking at me?”
Yoo Joonghyuk could ramble for hours in his mind about everything that made Dokja lovely (wherein, he’d be grateful that this Dokja didn’t have his mind reading skill). He chooses to keep quiet because if Kim Dokja knew, he would never live it down.
He huffs. “No.”
Dokja rolls his eyes, not pursuing the topic any further. “You have the worst speech pattern in all existence.”
He pulls away, and for a moment, it makes Joonghyuk afraid of losing Dokja again. But he just placed his egg bowl on the coffee table before returning to Joonghyuk’s side.
“Why are you staring at the shrines, Yoo Joonghyuk?”
Kim Dokja had a weirder speech pattern than him. “...Why call these shelves a shrine?”
“Isn’t it obvious? It holds all of our memories, and that’s precious.”
Joonghyuk retracts his gaze from Dokja to look back at the ‘shrine’ instead. It displayed no resemblance to one, but the intricateness of the placed objects made it revered.
Polaroids and photo strips were pinned to a corkboard, some crumpled notes stuck in between. Most of them had the party, as if they were taken in every gathering they had. Some were focused on the kids, while others were them two and Sooyoung. Rather, their individual photos were framed, and in most photos, Yoo Joonghyuk was always looking in Kim Dokja’s direction. It seems he couldn’t keep his eyes off the shorter man, a good precaution.
Other than books, there were miscellaneous items; gifts from others, plushies, origamis, collectibles on display, some customized. It held trophies from gaming competitions, and other games that were individual and duo-based.
Everything that captured a life lived to the fullest. Memories that formed companionship between others, keepsakes allowed to be theirs, a home that wasn’t built alone, instead, love was the bricks, and bonds formed the foundation.
Maybe this was how Yoo Joonghyuk was meant to live, if not for the Star Stream. Or he would not exist. Either way, he knows that Kim Dokja had to be a part of his life. Home has always been the most soothing with him around.
"We've gone through so much, haven’t we?” Dokja whispers.
He wouldn’t know the weight of those words, of how many lives Joonghyuk had to prevail. In each round, it seemed that he never had any companions because he lost them all in the end. What he didn’t know, though, was that a twinkling light from afar was by his side, too. His reader never experienced the pain, but he sympathized and understood, and they journeyed together as companions all the same.
Joonghyuk takes the other’s hand onto his, and Dokja gives a little squeeze.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. These memories we’ve created together.” Dokja starts, playing with Joonghyuk’s fingers.
“Because sometimes when I dream, I dream of us somewhere else. Somewhere, we’re in the apocalypse.”
This Kim Dokja has been affected because of being the Oldest Dream, then. Joonghyuk furrowed his brows at the realization. If Kim Dokja noticed, he didn’t mention it. He started tracing the lines on Joonghyuk’s palm.
“I thought: Oh, that’s absurd. I’m probably just dreaming of a Ways Of Survival self-insert, aren’t I? But it felt so real, being there and fighting, sometimes against you, sometimes alongside you.”
Dokja pulls his hand away, settling on the couch, leaving a confused Joonghyuk. He pats the space beside him, urging the taller man to sit.
There’s an air of seriousness when Dokja looks at him. “Yoo Joonghyuk, you’re sleeping on the couch for a month if you don’t take me seriously for what I’m about to say.”
“...Kim Dokja, I always take you seriously.” Joonghyuk stiffens, anticipating. Still, it doesn’t seem that Dokja sees him as a threat. Rather, he seems to be serious about something else.
“Good, I’ll continue then. I’ve long heard that what you dream reflects the life of yourself, in a different universe. If that’s true, then I think that what we have in that universe is beautiful, even if it's a ruined world.”
Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t follow. “How?”
“How?” Dokja laughs, as if it was ironic for him to ask. “Yeobo, we’ve found each other again. Not only that, but we’re companions. Companions in life and death.”
Joonghyuk’s heart aches once more. A story flutters within him, a story that’s appeared only once throughout his 1865 lifetimes. A story that has been tucked for a thousand years, searching for the companion that has left for somewhere else. He would never, ever, forget the story they share, because for all that’s worth, it’s everything that Kim Dokja has left him, besides the home he built.
“Isn’t that beautiful? That we would really live together and die together? It’s funny, because it’s oddly reminiscent of wedding vows.”
Joonghyuk hadn’t braced himself for the worst. Because he unravels, and everything in his heart has spilled, laid out bare on the ground he steps on. Except this time, the constellations couldn’t see, and the only gaze on him was from Kim Dokja. The only star he ever cared enough to keep.
“It’s okay. I’m right here.” Dokja runs his fingers through Joonghyuk’s hair, threading through each lock. Joonghyuk uses every shred of willpower to stop trembling, to delay the outpouring of everything he has tried to keep.
“You can let it out. I’ll share it with you.”
And everything streams out, except his star is there to hold him. Yoo Joonghyuk pulls him closer.
“I recalled that Hyuk-ie went out to work today, so I know that you aren’t him.” Dokja says softly, caressing his back. “But I do know that you’re Yoo Joonghyuk. I just wasn’t sure which one.”
His shaking didn’t cease, but Dokja still held him, even when he’s bruised, even if he didn’t know how much Joonghyuk had fought to be brought here, into his arms.
“Why are you here? Your companion must be waiting for you back home.”
Yoo Joonghyuk remembers the hum of the train, the interface of the Star Stream, his grip on his sword’s handle as he slashed through the sky. The land filled with fallen stars, dokkaebis overturned, and a complex without an owner. Seoul, without the monsters, adapting to a new system. Things that he had experienced, but a part of his companion did not.
Joonghyuk laid his head on Dokja’s shoulder, slowly regaining his strength. He mumbled, “I don’t have a home to return to.”
“How could that be? Your turn is the most successful one yet.”
Indeed, Yoo Joonghyuk of the 1864th turn had reached ■■ with his companions. They crossed the wall, met the Great Dokkaebi, and found out the identity of his sponsor, the Oldest Dream. He found out the reason for his existence, his purpose, and just when he thought he could get his ‘happily ever after’ with them, the reader slipped away, scattering across the universe.
All because he couldn’t be content with just a part.
“K-kim…” he croaked, words stuck in his throat. “Kim Dokja… Come home.”
Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t grieve him, because he never died. He just never came back.
Dokja placed his hand on Joonghyuk’s cheek, pushing his face back. Joonghyuk leaned to the touch, eyes still blurry.
“Joonghyuk-ah, I don’t need to. Home is wherever you are, is it not?”
Maybe Kim Dokja didn’t understand what Yoo Joonghyuk meant. Maybe he’ll never understand why Joonghyuk couldn’t go back to his own worldline. And maybe Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t know that wherever he goes, a Kim Dokja will always follow.
Home was an intangible thing for Kim Dokja, but the closest thing to that was Yoo Joonghyuk.
Even if he never came back home, you’d always find a piece of him pulled towards places that held Yoo Joonghyuk, like an asteroid drawn to orbit.
Even if Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t fully keep him, he just had to look back, and Kim Dokja would be there.
And there, Yoo Joonghyuk knew that if he had any place to return to, it always trailed back to the light of a star, the star that protected him for the longest time. It wasn’t a conclusion he could be content with, wasn’t the ■■ he awaited, but he knew that he would always find this light in the places he’d go to. And that light will be the force that moves him forward, to keep him afloat when the night has consumed him.
A Yoo Joonghyuk will always need a Kim Dokja, because their homes have always been the other, before the universe even knew what to make of it.
Joonghyuk embraces Dokja once more, bringing him close one last time.
“Yoo Joonghyuk. Don’t keep me waiting.”
Kim Dokja’s whisper is a bode, that there may be a day that he does come back. For now, Yoo Joonghyuk will choose to believe that it is true, as he leaves his last farewell to Dokja.
Joonghyuk pulls away, deserting a piece of his heart as he does so. “Kim Dokja. I will continue searching for you.”
At last, he kisses Dokja’s face and watches it for one last time, before he leaves and continues to search for his starlight.
The apartment remains quiet except for the vibrating AC, and Kim Dokja continues with his daily routine as if that didn’t completely unnerve him, meeting a potentially dangerous Yoo Joonghyuk that happened to be completely smitten with him. Technically, another version of him.
He swears on his life that he’ll keep quiet about what happened. He didn’t need Yoo Joonghyuk to sulk because he emotionally connected with another Yoo Joonghyuk.
Speak of the devil…the door has opened, and his husband is dragging his feet all the way to him. Joonghyuk slumps his head on Dokja’s lap, leaving his bags on the floor.
“Dokja…” he whines, rubbing his face on Dokja’s legs. “I missed you all day.”
He looks up, and the most puppy-looking face is shown to Dokja. Damn. It should be illegal being this hot while looking desperate.
Dokja pretends that he’s not salivating over this man right now. He tousles Joonghyuk’s hair, giving it small pats. “You worked hard today.”
“Mhm.” Joonghyuk takes Dokja’s hand and kisses it all over. From the knuckles, the back of his hand, to the palm, and up to his wrist. He sighs, rubbing his face on it.
“Dokja-yah, I don’t like working. I want to stay with you forever.”
Dokja laughs, face heating up. “That’d be a problem. Where will I get the money to buy my books?”
Yoo Joonghyuk leans forward, bumping his nose on Dokja’s own. “I’m a better book than your webnovels, dear.”
Dokja is rapidly turning into a tomato now. He slumps back to the couch. He’s going to have to run his mouth if he wants to win.
“You’re no match to my favorite protagonist though. Did you know–”
The rest of his words are swallowed by Joonghyuk, as Joonghyuk takes his share of Dokja, brutally devouring him. It doesn’t take long before Dokja is defeated because as he leans in to deepen it, Joonghyuk breaks the kiss.
“Bastard! That’s not fair!”
Joonghyuk laughs, and he places a chaste kiss on Dokja’s forehead. “Kim Dokja, I love you more than anything in this world.”
It’s an innocent phrase that Dokja has always known to be true. But remembering his encounter earlier, where Yoo Joonghyuk traversed entire universes for him… Kim Dokja realizes his Yoo Joonghyuk might just do the same, because he doesn’t see a world where Yoo Joonghyuk can't love intense, where a home isn’t something he actively seeks within Kim Dokja.
Maybe his longing can’t be recorded within pages, that’s why his epilogue has no finality.
Dokja hums, noting in his mind that he’ll shower his husband with more love.
“I know. I know you do.”