Chapter Text
He always tried making a habit of keeping his voice low and soothing, but he can’t help the way it snaps in his distress.
“Kim Dokja!” His own voice sounded thunderous in the echoing walls of their bathroom, and it made Joonghyuk cringe. “What are you doing?”
He felt his insides twist at Dokja’s startled expression, mouth parting and eyes widened in fear. The blade clattered onto the floor, and he kicked it away behind him.
Dokja’s voice hitched as he spoke, “H-Hyung, I-”
His eyes glistened with unshed tears, two deep pools of sorrow and panic. Joonghyuk swallowed, the near-forgotten and nauseating feeling of confusion and helplessness cresting within his chest.
“Dokja-yah, this…” He softened his voice, kneeling to take his trembling hands. He quickly staunched the wound with a cloth because he knew better how to treat an injury than to deal with- with this.
“I’m- sorry.” Dokja offered weakly, teeth chattering briefly between his hushed voice. “I’m sorry.”
Are you scared of me? Joonghyuk wanted to ask. Dokja’s two hands, small and clammy with sweat, are still shaking with violent tremors.
“Why?” Joonghyuk asked instead, but it didn’t feel like a better alternative.
“I’m s-sorry, Hyung.” Dokja repeated desperately, eyes darting erratically, unwilling to meet his gaze.
Perhaps that was better. Joonghyuk didn’t know how well he could school his expression in front of Dokja, who gazed at him with such attention and adoration that he seemed to be able to pick apart his thoughts from every twitch of his muscle.
“I’m sorry, Hyung. I won’t do it again.”
If Dokja looked at him now, perhaps he would see Joonghyuk’s helplessness.
Why? The question was left unanswered. The Dokja here was just as evasive as that Dokja he’d watched in the Scenarios. Only this was more pitiful, more heart wrenching, and Joonghyuk was far from finding words to reply with.
Why?
This was his God, his star, his ever after.
This was a hurt child who didn’t know love.
Joonghyuk didn’t know what he could say, what he could do… what he even had to offer. He was not a loving, caring man. In the crevices of his worn, battered soul, the only proof of tenderness he had was drawn out by Dokja.
It wasn’t that he didn’t understand at all. Joonghyuk itched sometimes, deep within his skin. He was so accustomed to violence. Injury upon injury, death upon death.
Sometimes in his grief, he savoured the burn in his battles, be it striking the other down or be struck himself. The sound of splitting flesh and clashing metal would give temporary reprieve to the voices in his head.
But Dokja was… young. It sounded like a feeble counterargument even to himself. Joonghyuk couldn’t quite put it into words.
He was so young and fragile, too short and skinny, and too unloved and hurt. They all tried removing anything that hurt him, be it his school bullies, or meddlesome reporters… How could he do such a thing to himself?
“Did something happen?” Joonghyuk prodded carefully.
If Dokja wanted to hurt himself, how could they possibly intervene with that?
Dokja shook his head. He was curling in on himself now, backing away from Joonghyuk and he stared at the boy’s expression, the mounting anxiety-
Oh.
“I’m not mad.” Joonghyuk reassured as sincerely as he could. “I’m just…”
He began to dress the wound which was sluggishly bleeding between clumps of coagulated blood.
“Disappointed?” Dokja’s voice cracked as he guessed the end of his trailing sentence.
“No,” Joonghyuk tucked the gauze in, smoothing a hand over it before looking back up at Dokja’s expression. “No, I’m not disappointed, Dokja.”
A ripple of hurt washed over his frame and Dokja nodded woodenly, pulling away from him.
What? What happened? Did he want space? Had I intruded? That thought was quickly refuted with a heated- He’s just a child. He doesn’t know what’s good for him.
“Hyung, I- I need to do homework.”
It’s a clear dismissal.
Still, it was apparent that he wanted to be left alone; pushing this conversation could be risky and it would be better brought up when he was less… volatile.
But shouldn’t he be supervised right now?
Joonghyuk was caught between options before he nodded and smiled wanly. “Do you need help?”
Dokja shook his head and ducked out of the bathroom like he was fleeing. Joonghyuk remained on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor and wiped at the singular drop of dark red which had splattered down.
Huffing a sigh, Joonghyuk grabbed the knife and sheathed it annoyedly. The knives they kept around out of habit or misguided paranoia must all be packed up.
-
He doesn’t immediately inform Uriel, Hyunsung, Namwoon, or Jihye, but they seem to have caught on before nightfall of the next day.
They had eyes only for Dokja after all and the bandages peeping from his long sleeve or the tensing as something tugged on his wound were all too obvious.
Not to mention Joonghyuk removing all the sharps, thinking it would prevent Dokja from doing such a thing again.
It was a foolish thought.
Hyunsung had offered to speak to him in a few days. Joonghyuk agreed it was the best course of action. Uriel had been a Constellation- a bit too removed from understanding, Jihye often became troubled with her words, and Namwoon… perhaps would offer comfort in manners other than words.
Still, they all seem to be fitter than Joonghyuk to walk into such an event again, not even a week later.
Pinched between Dokja’s bloodied fingers was a tiny blade.
“A-Ah…” Dokja’s pupils are blown wide, quivering like a caught prey.
The anguish was so acute it felt like his heart had been carved into and Joonghyuk didn’t know if it was the blood or that look in Dokja’s eyes that did so.
There was a disassembled pencil sharpener next to the boy and Joonghyuk had… underestimated this issue. The solutions those resources offered were not enough. Joonghyuk likely had to combat his personal prejudice against hospitals to provide him professional help. A bunch of traumatised, ageless, Outer God veterans would not be able to fix this.
He would not be able to fix it.
“I’m sorry Hyung!” Dokja quickly set it down and turned away as if to cover the absolute mess that was his forearm. His voice was watery and his eyes darted from his face to the door behind him. “I’m really sorry, Hyung. I’m sorry. Don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad.” Joonghyuk’s automatic reply came out as a feeble croak. “I’m worried, Dokja-yah. Is something troubling you? School, or…”
“No, it’s not that.” Dokja cleaned messily at the dripping deep red with tissues, pallid face pinched in panic.
It was hardly enough. It simply made more of a mess. Smears of fresh blood red.
It was such a familiar colour. Joonghyuk wished he didn’t have to see more of it, much less like this.
“Is it that…” Joonghyuk began quietly, the words that slip out are too honest, but perhaps it was this. “-I cause you unhappiness?”
Perhaps it was him that was lacking. Greatly lacking.
Saving the world was impossibly different from being a caretaker and he was far from ‘good’ at the former.
“No!” Dokja’s expression crumpled and he shook his head quickly. “Of course not, Hyung. It’s- It’s my fault. I promise. I’m sorry.”
Joonghyuk suddenly felt unbearably idiotic for bringing such a thing up. It was not the time, nor was it Dokja’s problem.
“No, I’m sorry.” He said softly. Then, “Come.”
Although stiff, Dokja obediently followed when Joonghyuk beckoned him to the kitchen where the first aid kit was.
“I’m sorry Hyung. Are you upset?”
Joonghyuk tried not to scoff, knowing it would be taken the wrong way. Of course he was upset. So upset he didn’t have words for it.
“Not at you.” He said instead and began disinfecting the wound. A pencil sharpener of all things…
Dokja tensed at the sting and Joonghyuk rubbed soothing circles with the pad of his left thumb.
“I’ll be quick.” He murmured as he wrapped it with gauze.
“I’m sorry…”
Joonghyuk long since had enough of Dokja’s apologies.
“Has something been troubling you?” Joonghyuk asked again, tentative.
Dokja shook his head, leaning towards him shyly. He curled into his touch as Joonghyuk carded his fingers through his hair.
“Sorry Hyung.” Dokja mumbled against his clothes.
Joonghyuk exhaled through his nose and picked him up before Dokja could misconstrue it as a disappointed sigh or something likewise ridiculous. “You won’t say you won’t do it again? You won’t say the reason?”
Dokja pushed his face into the crook of his neck. The tip of his nose was cold. “I’m really sorry, Hyung.” His breath tickled against his skin. “Don’t wanna talk about it.”
Joonghyuk let out a proper sigh, calming him down by rubbing his back soothingly. Will you ever want to talk about it?
As if sensing his distress, Dokja repeated, “‘M sorry.”
Joonghyuk didn’t know if he should also confiscate sharpeners. And scissors, and razors, and kitchen knives, and needles, and…
-
“Should I take him to a psychiatrist?” Despite his best efforts, Joonghyuk felt his voice sour on the last word. All their millennia wisdom and experience could not find an optimal solution to this.
And if he let himself understand, it would mean letting him be, and Yoo Joonghyuk could not handle that. It was Dokja after all. Young, foolish, hurt Dokja. Loveable Dokja.
He would pull out his own heart if he knew it would stop whatever hurt him.
“Maybe that’s the best option for him.” Jihye responded severely with a similar wariness in her eyes. “A psychologist or psychiatrist…”
“I can try find a reputable one.” Uriel thinned her lips in thought.
Namwoon made a small, dissatisfied sound. “I don’t think taking him to a shrink will help.”
“His life is stock full of problems,” Uriel argued. “None of us are suited to deal with the number of traumas he’s had.”
“He’s still fifteen.” Namwoon ended up muttering. “Talk to him about it.”
Jihye had a complicated look in her eyes. “Fifteen’s a dangerous age where you think you’re mature, but you actually don’t know anything. Not to mention, the traumas, like Unni said.”
“For now, don’t confiscate more things.” Namwoon addressed Joonghyuk. “He’ll be finding alternatives one way or another. Keeping it predictable is safer.”
“Just let it be?” Joonghyuk felt his lip curl distastefully. You’re telling me to just let it be?”
Namwoon shifted uncomfortably, crossing his arms. Jihye’s brows furrowed.
Despite himself, Joonghyuk softened and added, “How can I stay still when I know that he’s-” hurting himself.
It tasted like ash on his tongue.
“You’ll just need to stay still.” Namwoon told him. “Or find him an outlet. Emotions don’t just go away on their own. It doesn’t have to be talking to you- just anything… Well, he likes you a lot, so I’m sure it will be okay. Just be with him.”
His gaze had seemed distant, but when his eyes found Joonghyuk’s again, it was clearer than ever.
“Stay still, but stay by his side. I think for Dokja… That is helping him live.”