Work Text:
It started with just a cough. A cough was not abnormal by itself, after all. Everyone inhaled something a little too strongly on occasion, or had something go down the wrong tube. The kids, certainly, had more of their fair share of that; what with them constantly fighting over dinner. Really, a cough was not anything to be concerned about. It was just a little thing, even if it was unusual from Yoo Joonghyuk. Kim Dokja couldn't remember if he'd ever heard Yoo Joonghyuk cough, actually. Or sneeze. Was he even human? Though they'd been working together for so long now, Kim Dokja still sometimes wondered.
It was easy to think of him as the protagonist, still, after all this time.
But then it wasn't just one cough. Over the course of the night, one turned into two, turned into three, turned into a full on hacking session. It sounded like Yoo Joonghyuk was going to cough out his lung. Everyone in the industrial complex quickly became alarmed, fretting over him in an instant.
This was Yoo Joonghyuk, and this was not a person who got sick. For him to be coughing like this, something must be horribly, horribly wrong.
While the rest of his company moved around him, the irritation clear on his face, Kim Dokja hung back from the crowd, watching as they tried to remedy the situation. He watched with careful eyes as Lee Seolhwa came up to him, studying him closest.
Sometimes, it was a bit hard to look at them. Nothing had happened yet in this regression. Kim Dokja wasn't sure if anything ever would — probably not. They had been together many times, but there was a point at which Yoo Joonghyuk had decided the pain was not worth it anymore and stopped pursuing her in The Ways of Survival.
Now, watching them, Kim Dokja wasn't sure why it hurt so much. For so much of the book, he had wanted to see them happy together. In the second regression, they had a child together. They had been married. Their small wedding in that regression was one of Kim Dokja's favorite moments in the early chapters of Ways of Survival.
But now it made his stomach twist in a way he wasn't sure how to deal with. He wasn't really sure why, either. Always, he would push for Yoo Joonghyuk's happiness above all else. If he didn't end up happy, what was the point of doing any of it? He would see the epilogue to his favorite character's life. He would make sure it was satisfactory, and that should naturally include some kind of closure with his lover.
Lee Jihye looked at him and gave him a supportive smile. She always did this whenever Lee Seolhwa was around Yoo Joonghyuk. Kim Dokja rolled his eyes. Nobody had ever bothered to correct her, and he doubted anyone ever would — not after the Dark Castle incident, anyways. She could think what she'd like.
"It's probably just the flu," Lee Seolhwa concluded, smiling gently. As always, she was beautiful, almost painfully so. "Please get some rest and take care for a few days. We still have over a week until the next Scenario, anyways."
Yoo Joonghyuk's scowl only grew, and the crowd dispersed. For a moment, he caught Kim Dokja's eye, but it was gone as quickly as it came.
From next to him, the only other person to have not gotten up close and personal to see if he was alright, Han Sooyoung snorted. "It's as if the bastard's never been sick before," she said, shaking her head.
Kim Dokja shot her a look. "Probably because he hasn't since the Scenarios started. Have you?"
Han Sooyoung only looked at him. Sometimes, when she stared at him like that, it was like she was seeing right through him to something else. It had been so long since they'd met, but it was still incredibly discomforting.
She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Yoo Sangah. "Dokja," she said, looking at him carefully, "do you know how to make soup?"
At first it was just going through the motions. Cooking wasn't his forte, necessarily, but it wasn't something he was terrible at either. Just average. The apocalypse had surely helped with that skill somewhat, not allowing him to live off of whatever he could grab at the convenience store on the way home from his job at Minosoft.
It was easy to chop up whatever they had found, put them in some broth and let it simmer. It was simple to taste as he went, adding spices to make sure it wasn't too strong for a sick person's stomach.
But the more he thought about what he was doing and why, the more Kim Dokja began to feel like a stranger in his own body. As if an alien had taken control and was piloting him, and he was forced to just watch as he went through steps he'd surely done many times in his life.
Why was he the one tasked with making the soup and bringing it to Yoo Joonghyuk? Yoo Sangah hadn't exactly been forthcoming with her reasoning, just telling him that it would probably be best if he were the one to help him recover. Why? Why had that been the unilateral decision?
Because he'll accept it if it's you, had been her final words on the matter. The words going in his brain over and over again, a bad loop in his ears. If it's him? What a joke. They were Companions. They were people who worked together, who fought together, who spoke and enjoyed their time together. If Kim Dokja was a better man, a more normal man, maybe he would even agree to the sentiment that they were friends.
He loved his company. That of course included Yoo Joonghyuk. But he was… still the protagonist. Still the person he was trying so hard to help, to reach, to watch succeed this time and always.
And he was Kim Dokja. He was just a Reader, and he always would be.
"Lee Seolhwa," Kim Dokja called, once he realized the soup was finished.
It didn't take her long to join him in the kitchen of the industrial complex. "What can I do for you?" She was always straight to the point, but she was so kind. So genuine. It was no wonder that she made such a phenomenal doctor, both before the end of the world and after it begun.
She was everything that someone like Yoo Joonghyuk needed. He sucked in a breath, smiling at her, though it didn't reach his eyes. It rarely did. "Do you think you could take the soup up to—"
He didn't even get to finish his question before she smiled at him knowingly, shaking her head. "No, I don't think I'm the person he wants to see right now. Plus, it's just doing a few things to take care of him. Surely these are things you've done before?"
[Ki m Dok ja is a n idi ot.]
For a long time, Kim Dokja had remembered his childhood like one would remember scenes of a book. It was always in pieces, never anything concrete, just facts that had happened to him: his father had been abusive. One day, his mother had snapped and killed his father.
She had looked at him and told him to remember this. Remember that it was in self defense, remember that he had no part in it.
Then he would flash forward and the next things he remembered were that book. That damned book, and what it did to the people around him. The kind of people they became once they found out who he was. What he was. Son of a murderer.
He'd jumped off the school rooftop and subsequently began reading Ways of Survival, as if it were his only lifeline keeping him tethered to the world.
Now he knew more of the truth. The Fourth Wall had been kind enough to show him the truth, the missing pieces from those years. What he had never been missing, however, was warmth. Kindness. Openness.
Even in his more recent memories, the ones that finally showed the truth, he couldn't find anything to note. By the time he was old enough, his mother had already lost most of her soul to the person she had married. She had not been fit to be a mother in a long time; leaving behind so much of her kindness in order to survive.
When Lee Seolhwa had asked him if he'd done these things before, he'd given her his trademarked fake smile, and left to plate the meal he'd painstakingly created. The truth was that he'd never done anything like this before in his entire life. Kim Dokja had never had to take care of another person besides himself, and even taking care of himself didn't compare to the level that he was expected to use here.
Sure, he had taken in the kids when the Scenarios started. But that was different. Of course it was different. This was the apocalypse that only he knew. He wouldn't leave behind children who wanted to survive, who were useful to him.
It was hard to admit that he loved them, that he loved all of Kim Dokja's Company. It was hard to show it in the ways that mattered, the ways they clearly wanted — they wanted him to stay. They wanted him to smile, and laugh with them, and live.
He'd never known how to give only part of himself to these things. He'd never known moderation in love. He'd only known sacrifice. So that was what he gave them, though it only kept hurting them.
Kim Dokja wasn't stupid, nor was he oblivious. He knew they didn't want him to keep sacrificing himself. That they didn't want him to keep hurting himself for their sake, and instead find a way to get through the Scenarios where they would all come out okay.
What did it matter if he came back in the end, though? This was never his story. It had never been his story. Everything he did, everything he tried to accomplish, it was all for—
"Kim Dokja," Yoo Joonghyuk interrupted his thoughts, the door that had been in between them now open. "Why are you standing here?"
Never had Kim Dokja ever seen him like this before. Yoo Joonghyuk looked white as a sheet, eyes sunken in with purple bags lining them. His hair was a mess and his usually fluffy bangs were stuck to his forehead thanks to all the sweat. Even during the heat of battle, Yoo Joonghyuk usually looked beautiful.
This was strange. He almost looked human, right then. Kim Dokja felt his throat go dry, and he adjusted the tray he was holding in his hands.
He took a deep breath, trying to put himself back together. How long had he been standing there? He wasn't sure, which was horribly embarrassing. Generally, he didn't let himself get lost in thought like that. It was dangerous, and it was stupid.
"You're sick," Kim Dokja said, and Yoo Joonghyuk raised one of his — still perfect — eyebrows in response. Obviously he was sick. Kim Dokja scowled. "Everyone was worried about you."
Purposefully, he did not include himself alone. He did not mention the soup that was sitting, still hot, on the tray he was holding, nor did he mention that he had cooked it himself. If he left it vague, if he left it ambiguous, maybe it wouldn't matter. Maybe Yoo Joonghyuk wouldn't question why he had been standing outside of his door with no intention of knocking or coming in.
[Ki m Do jka is a n idi ot.]
The Fourth Wall was not helping, either. Despite everything, Kim Dokja was sure that he'd never been up front with his true feelings towards anyone in the party. Everyone was seemingly content to let him do his own thing, to show his care in his own ways, no matter how much it pained them sometimes.
Nobody had really ever brought up the Fate. Whose hand, exactly, he had died by. Who had dealt the final blow, who had cradled him in that body's final moments alive. Who he had smiled at and told that they had made a great story.
It was easier, that way. If nobody asked him, he didn't have to think about it. If Yoo Joonghyuk was fine ignoring it, then Kim Dokja would be, too.
That was what he had promised himself, anyways.
Yoo Joonghyuk looked him over carefully. All of his movements, even his breathing, were sluggish, and Kim Dokja could only stare back at him. Was he supposed to tell him to get back into bed? Tell him he needed to sleep it off and rest? Or was he supposed to help him get wherever he was trying to go to?
Quickly, he racked his brain trying to remember anything of use. What did he do when he got sick when he was younger? Or even as an adult? Kim Dokja remembered he would just lie in bed and read, read and read and read, until he was somewhere in between the realm of sleep and reality. He wouldn't eat much — he rarely did anyways, so what did it matter if he ate while he was sick or not? He only showered once he became too gross and uncomfortable to keep lying in bed, and after a few days of this, he would force himself back up to do what needed to be done.
None of that sounded like how he wanted to treat Yoo Joonghyuk in that moment. So Kim Dokja tried to reach deep and remember what he might have wanted during those times, when he had nobody to rely on but the Yoo Joonghyuk that existed in the pages on his screen.
"You should get back into bed. You really don't look so good, you know," he said, eyes scanning him up and down deliberately.
Yoo Joonghyuk didn't even look perturbed though, the bastard. "You should leave." Kim Dokja scowled at him, ready to respond with irritation, but Yoo Joonghyuk continued before he got the chance. "You'll get sick if you stay near me for too long."
At that, Kim Dokja laughed. "I'm a Constellation," he reminded him. "I don't think I can get sick, anyways." He had no idea if that was a lie or not. He also didn't particularly care if he got sick. They had plenty of time before the next Scenario, and there thankfully weren't any important Sub Scenarios or Hidden Scenarios that he knew of that was worth the company's time.
It was Yoo Joonghyuk's turn to scowl, but he eventually relented, opening the door a little wider to allow Kim Dokja access.
He'd never actually been in Yoo Joonghyuk's room in the Industrial Complex before, now that he thought about it. Yoo Joonghyuk had been in his room plenty of time; arguing about the Scenarios or whatever else they fought about. Sometimes, Kim Dokja could admit privately to himself, he enjoyed arguing with him just to see his reactions. That side of his beloved protagonist seemed to belong to him and him alone, and he couldn't completely deny his selfishness when it came to him.
[K im Dok ja i sa n id iot.]
It didn't matter how many times the Fourth Wall felt like repeating that. It didn't mean he was going to listen any time soon.
The room before him was sparse, which was to be expected. There wasn't much fun to be had, even this deep into the apocalypse. Kim Dokja wondered, in the back in his mind, what his room might look like after everything was over. If there might be a fancy gaming setup in one corner, RGB lights bouncing off the white walls.
Maybe he'd have pictures of Yoo Mia on the dresser. Maybe he would have some awards from his time as a professional gamer. Or maybe he'd even have a bookshelf, filled to the brim with cookbooks and things that the people he loved had gotten him. Pictures, maybe, too.
None of that was reality, though, and Kim Dokja forced himself to see the room as it was. Bland, blank, and empty, just like his own across the hall.
Once Yoo Joonghyuk was back to sitting up on the bed, Kim Dokja placed the tray of food on the nightstand beside him. For a long, long moment, they were both silent. Kim Dokja wasn't sure what to say. He tried again to reach into the dregs of his memory and figure something out, but nothing was coming up.
However, Kim Dokja did not make a move to leave. Instead he stood there, simply staring at Yoo Joonghyuk. It was almost as if he knew this was something that did not come naturally to him, and was exerting patience.
The likelihood of Yoo Joonghyuk being patient about anything almost made him want to laugh. It was so much more likely that he was just exhausted from being sick, since it had come on so suddenly. Kim Dokja really needed to get his head screwed on straight, it seemed. What else was new.
"If you're going to loiter, sit down," Yoo Joonghyuk said, breaking the silence that had enveloped them both. Despite the hoarseness of his voice, it had not impacted the edge that his words always had to them.
In an instant, Kim Dokja was looking for a chair or a stool to sit on. Coming up short, he looked helplessly to Yoo Joonghyuk who just pointed at the bed instead. Hesitantly, Kim Dokja sat down on the foot of the bed, looking at Yoo Joonghyuk expectantly.
Somewhere, in the back of his head, he reminded himself that he was supposed to be taking care of Yoo Joonghyuk, not the other way around. He then pointed back at the tray, and nodded in satisfaction once Yoo Joonghyuk had put it on his lap.
He really did look miserable. The room was fairly cool, but he looked like it might as well be a volcano with the way he was sweating. Part of Kim Dokja didn't even want to look at him. For so long, ever since they'd met, he'd been trying to rectify the Yoo Joonghyuk he'd spent ten years reading about with the Yoo Joonghyuk in front of him at this moment. They were, of course, similar in so many ways — their mannerisms, the way they spoke, their power…
But he was also so different. Ways of Survival never spent much time on the quieter times in Yoo Joonghyuk's life, unless it were necessary for character or world building. The times that were shown were few and far between; treasured memories to Kim Dokja. He had gotten to live through so many of those moments, now, the ones that were never captured.
Most of the time, it was easy to almost quantify them. To wrap up those little ticks or expressions and put them into the box Kim Dokja knew as The Protagonist. There were, every so often, things that didn't quite fit: the way he looked when he smiled at Kim Dokja specifically. The way he laughed, an almost stuttered sound like he wasn't used to making it. The exasperation at most of Kim Dokja's antics.
Those were things he saved specifically to revisit later, to try and understand where they could fit into Yoo Joonghyuk like he was a puzzle only Kim Dokja could solve. But the more they happened, the more time they spent together, the more Kim Dokja realized he might not know Yoo Joonghyuk at all.
"Did you make this?" Yoo Joonghyuk asked, pulling him back to reality as he always did.
He wasn't sure what to expect. If he said yes, would he get berated? Did he even like it? His face hadn't changed once since he took his first sip, so Kim Dokja was going in completely blind. "Yes," he said after a moment, hoping he didn't wait an uncomfortable amount of time before finally answering.
Yoo Joonghyuk simply nodded. "You're not as useless in the kitchen as you act." That was clearly not supposed to be a compliment, but Kim Dokja took it in stride, just this once. There was a long pause as he took another bite, and Kim Dokja shifted on the bed. He should've been more used to feeling out of his element at this point, but the thing that he had with Yoo Joonghyuk had seemingly fallen into a routine. "Thank you," Yoo Joonghyuk finally continued after a moment, breaking both the silence and his character.
Yoo Joonghyuk, Regressor. Age twenty eight, born August third. Pro Gamer attribute, too many skills to count. Strongest Incarnation in the Star Stream. There were so many things that Kim Dokja knew about this man, who he had followed fervently for thirteen years through Ways of Survival.
Still, he was never used to how he acted towards him. The supposed impact he had on this person. The way that this was not a protagonist, not anymore, but a living and breathing human.
Normally, you're welcome was the response to such a thing. But Kim Dokja felt frozen in that moment, staring at Yoo Joonghyuk with wide eyes. He thanked him… for soup. That he apparently didn't hate.
Before he realized what he was doing, Kim Dokja brought his hand up to Yoo Joonghyuk's forehead, checking his temperature without a care. It was only when Yoo Joonghyuk leaned into the touch slightly that he realized what he was doing, pulling his hand away as if it had been burned.
Which, well. It was actually fairly warm — he was sick, after all. Yoo Joonghyuk furrowed his eyebrows, but Kim Dokja cut him off before he could say anything about what just happened.
"You're still really sick, huh?" Kim Dokja said with a strained laugh, falling flat to both of them. He hid a wince. "I should probably—"
"Stay there," Yoo Joonghyuk snarled, the effect lessened by the rasp in his voice, but only just. "Don't even think about running away, Kim Dokja."
The fever must really be messing with his mind, he realized. He was earnestly asking Kim Dokja to stay with him, on his bed, while he ate the soup he'd prepared at the rest of the company's behest. Kim Dokja wasn't even sure what to say to him, or if he should say anything at all.
At the look in Yoo Joonghyuk's eyes, he rethought that sentiment. "I'll stay for a bit longer," he relented, unable to look away no matter how badly he wanted to. Yoo Joonghyuk, even at his worse, was still beautiful. The world was truly a cruel and unfair place.
Almost immediately, Yoo Joonghyuk relaxed again, leaning back against his pillows. He continued to eat the soup slowly, not saying another word. Kim Dokja wasn't sure what to do. He wasn't even sure why he was there if they weren't going to talk.
When he had been a child and gotten sick, he would never feel comfortable with someone sitting with him like this. Even if they weren't at risk for catching whatever he had come down with, the idea of someone seeing him that vulnerable made his stomach churn worse then any illness he'd ever had did. How could Yoo Joonghyuk, someone who prided himself on being so powerful, be okay with what was happening right now?
They'd been through a lot together, obviously, but that wasn't exactly relevant. Kim Dokja certainly couldn't imagine letting him do this, even if the other man would demand it. He would want to lock himself away and read until he felt better. That was the only way he knew how to recover from… well, anything, really.
Maybe this was a mistake. The whole thing, really. Making the soup, being the one to bring it up there, sitting down with him in the first place. This was a level of comfort that Kim Dokja would never normally partake in.
In the back of his mind, he wondered if that was why Yoo Joonghyuk had demanded he stay. That was a ridiculous thought, however, so he quickly scrapped it.
He was once again snapped out of his thoughts by the spoon and bowl clinking together as he put them back on the nightstand. Kim Dokja looked up only to see that Yoo Joonghyuk's eyes were still on him, studying him carefully.
For a brief moment, Kim Dokja wondered what he looked like to him. What did he see that made him want to keep him around? He'd always just assumed he was too annoying to get rid of, something he purposefully caused in order to manipulate the timeline to his will with his knowledge, but was that really the case? The whole of Kim Dokja's Company seemed to think otherwise. He'd assumed it was just them being factitious, or saying those things solely to annoy him, but it was in moments like this that he wasn't sure.
"I got sick a lot as a child," Kim Dokja found himself saying, startling himself with the words as soon as they'd left his mouth. Yoo Joonghyuk looked attentive, despite his obvious exhaustion, spurring Kim Dokja on. "When I would get sick, I would use it as an excuse to stay in bed all day and read my novels. I would sometimes forget to eat for the whole day because of it."
That, of course, cost him a glare. Regardless, he smiled back, undeterred. He wasn't going to get into it — why he was so sickly, what exactly he was reading, why nobody would stop him from going the whole day without eating. But it was okay, Kim Dokja thought, to share inconsequential pieces like this. Things that didn't matter, tidbits of a life that had long since past. It wasn't as if they could ever go back to those days, anyways.
He wondered if it helped Yoo Joonghyuk piece parts of him together. Kim Dokja liked to believe that he wasn't well known, in the sense that his companions had trouble pinpointing anything specific about his past. He got close to it, a few times, but he would always retract it as soon as he could. Play it off as a joke. Nobody needed to know the truth about who he was, what he was. Especially after he'd found out that truth for himself.
Yoo Joonghyuk nodded, looking at him expectantly when he didn't continue. Kim Dokja took a deep breath, but found he couldn't find any other words to come up with. If he kept talking, he knew he would reveal something he shouldn't. If he changed the subject abruptly, Yoo Joonghyuk would push — he'd been doing that a lot, lately. Pushing him.
Maybe that was why he'd thought to tell him anything in the first place. Sometimes, the want to be known, to be understood boiled his blood beneath the skin. It never used to be so bad, but Yoo Joonghyuk just did not seem to give up on him. No matter what.
From the moment he'd said Let's go back to Earth, Kim Dokja, it had been incessant. Never ending. And now here he was, forthcoming with information that shouldn't matter to anyone, yet Yoo Joonghyuk was looking at him with careful eyes, looking at him like a man starved.
What was he so hungry for, Kim Dokja wondered numbly, somewhere in the back of his mind. Him? What a ridiculous thought.
"There wasn't really anyone around like this," Kim Dokja finally said, breathing the words out before he could reach out and trap them behind his lips once more. "So I'm not very good at this. You'll have to teach me, yeah?"
He tried to joke, to make it seem like a little bit less serious of a confession, but Yoo Joonghyuk only nodded seriously. "Tea," he said in return. "And something solid. Toast."
Was he… giving him pointers on what he needed? That was almost worse then if Kim Dokja had tried something and failed, and most definitely worse then him giving up and leaving and not trying at all. He was supposed to be sick, and Kim Dokja was supposed to be taking care of him. Not the other way around.
His stomach flipped uncomfortably the longer he stared at Yoo Joonghyuk's serious expression. "All right," he said, feeling like he was tearing the words out of his throat. "I'm choosing the tea, though." Again, trying to make it a joke. Trying to make everything a joke.
But Yoo Joonghyuk only nodded again, seemingly completely undeterred by what he was trying to do. Kim Dokja wanted to think that Yoo Joonghyuk just didn't care enough to bother with him, but he had a feeling it was something opposite. Something he never wanted to dwell on, if he could help it.
Much easier to pretend the feelings weren't there, pretend it didn't exist, when you steadfastly refused to acknowledge them. That way, you couldn't be let down. Kim Dokja got up off the bed, wondering how much trouble he would be in if he just sent someone else to do the task. Nearly everyone in the Company was better suited for something like this.
Yoo Sangah, with the desire to care for others and help them written into the very fiber of her being. Lee Seolhwa, who while in this regression may not be close to Yoo Joonghyuk, was a doctor and therefore naturally caring in her own right. Lee Jihye, who constantly wanted an excuse to try and help her Master when she could. Lee Hyunsung, who loved everyone so honestly, would've definitely jumped at the chance to assist anyone in need. Even Jung Heewon would've been better suited than he was. Even Han Sooyoung would've been better suited, and that was truly a feat.
Despite all of that, they'd all directed the tasks to him. It was a unanimous decision, one he hadn't gotten any chance to disagree with. Even the kids — his kids! — had agreed it was for the best that he take care of Yoo Joonghyuk.
It was true that none of them knew why, exactly, he was the total wrong person for the job. It was also true that he and Yoo Joonghyuk certainly had a different relationship then the Regressor had from the rest of the party. Maybe that was exactly the point, though. His friends were always trying to push him to be more open, be more forgiving of himself. Maybe this was their misguided way of trying to help him.
Well, what did it matter if he sent someone else up? He'd done his part. He'd handmade the soup, he'd sat there with him… he'd more then done enough. If he left, nobody could hold it against him. He nodded to himself as soon as he closed the door to the room. He would not come back and deal with this. He would leave Yoo Joonghyuk alone, and everything would go back to normal.
Kim Dokja, predictably, caved.
"It's chamomile," he said, placing the steaming mug down next to him. Next to it, he placed the plate with some simple toast and butter, just as he'd asked. "Don't complain."
Yoo Joonghyuk raised a single perfect eyebrow at him, picking up the mug carefully. When he moved like that it really didn't seem like he was ill. It just seemed like he was tired, or something.
"How is it?" Kim Dokja asked after a moment, unable to help himself. He didn't really drink tea much, preferring coffee to keep himself functioning back before the apocalypse happened, and the suggestion was from Yoo Sangah. He trusted her taste, at least.
The other man nodded, putting the mug back down on the table. He stared at him expectantly, eyes feeling more like they were staring straight through Kim Dokja rather than looking at him fully.
If his face flushed a little at that, thankfully, Yoo Joonghyuk was kind enough not to mention if he noticed. Kim Dokja sat down in the same place he had been before, on the edge of the bed, body slightly twisted to face Yoo Joonghyuk better.
"It's fine," he said, and considering the fact that he usually refused to eat food that wasn't made by himself, Kim Dokja would consider it a victory. Fine was better then bad. Fine was great, honestly.
… what was wrong with him, getting excited over something like this. He really needed to leave. Clearly, the stuffiness in the room was getting to him. Going to his head, or whatever. Making him think like the fool Yoo Joonghyuk always referred to him as.
"If there's nothing else—"
"Kim Dokja," Yoo Joonghyuk said, grabbing his wrist before he could even think about getting up and leaving after just sitting down. His hand was warm, much like the rest of him. He was really sick. Was that why he was acting like this, so open, so honest? Kim Dokja should probably feel bad for taking advantage of a sick person, or something. "For once in your life, stop running away."
The words gave him whiplash from the thoughts he'd had moments before it. He stared blankly at Yoo Joonghyuk, unsure of how to even respond to that. Stop running away? What was he running away from, sitting in bed with a sick person for too long? He'd said that earlier, too; something he'd initially thought of as a passing comment. Now, he wasn't so sure.
[Ki m Do kja is a n id iot.]
Idiot, this time, was said pointedly, and Kim Dokja wanted nothing more but to strangle the Fourth Wall. He wasn't stupid. He was just pointedly avoiding the problem.
[Run i ng aw ay?]
When Kim Dokja still didn't say anything, he expected the grip on his hand to release, or at least loosen up slightly. Instead, Yoo Joonghyuk just gripped into him harder. "Tell me. Why did you agree to do any of this?" He asked, voice quiet but still just as intense as it always was.
That almost made it worse, really. They were so close, like this. He could feel how warm Yoo Joonghyuk's hands were on him. Kim Dokja was beginning to feel a bit feverish at this rate. Why did he agree to any of this?
Kim Dokja knew why. He remembered, being small and alone and with only the fictional Yoo Joonghyuk to get him through anything. He remembered, being pushed around and beaten to a pulp, just telling himself over and over again I'm Yoo Joonghyuk, I'm Yoo Joonghyuk, I'm Yoo Joonghyuk. He remembered it all so vividly, all the times he relied on this protagonist. How much he had fervently loved this protagonist, wished he could be like him — strong, and so cool, and able to keep getting up and trying again no matter how hard the world around him was crashing down. Kim Dokja had spent thirteen years of his life following the story of this sole person, as their sole reader.
And then he met him in the flesh, his throat being caught by his hand, and when Yoo Joonghyuk grinned at him, Kim Dokja felt his world fall out from under him. Figuratively even more so then literally. He'd spent so long now grappling with how to deal with the fact that this person was real, that they were somehow Companions, that somehow, despite all odds, he cared for him.
That anyone cared for him at all was a realization in and of itself, really. But Yoo Joonghyuk? That was soul crushing. That could ruin him.
It had ruined him, on many occasions. It was really a great story, wasn't it? He'd let himself become the Demon King. There were times that he'd ruined his own plans and he would do it over and over again if it meant that Yoo Joonghyuk would live to see the ending. He kept up with those damn revisions just to be sure of it.
"Because it's you," Kim Dokja said, honesty stretching his voice thin. "Because it's you, and you're sick, and I couldn't not at least try." He winced at the way he sounded, but there was nothing else he could do but talk. Yoo Joonghyuk might be ill, but he was still one of the most powerful Incarnations on the planet. And there was also the fact that it was Yoo Joonghyuk. Being honest with him, at least, was a little easier than being honest with anyone else.
"Because it's me?" Yoo Joonghyuk's scowl grew, and Kim Dokja had a feeling those weren't the words he wanted to hear. "Tell me honestly, you fool. Why are you still here?" Why did you stay, the unspoken question. Why did you come here at all if you were only going to leave?
For a beat, Kim Dokja could only stare and take in this expression. He wondered, vaguely, if this was how he looked in the original Ways of Survival, when he'd come face to face for the first time to a Lee Seolhwa who was acting as the Poisoner rather then the Immortal Doctor.
And now that very same Yoo Joonghyuk was looking at him with that exact same expression. His eyebrows furrowed, his lips curled downwards, and his eyes—
Kim Dokja wanted to laugh. He almost did, at the absurdity of it, but held it in. Somehow, he thought his companion might not take kindly to that. "I'm here because of you," he said, and the more he was being honest, the easier it got. Maybe he would get lucky and Yoo Joonghyuk would remember none of this in the morning. That thought spurred him on even more. "That's always been the case, Yoo Joonghyuk. Today, in the past, in the future. I don't know what else you want me to say."
What else was there to say, he wondered. There were the unspoken words — the words that scared him to even think, the words he'd been avoiding since the Fate had come true — but that wasn't going to happen. Kim Dokja doubted he could do it even if Uriel had imposed some sort of special Scenario on them right then and there.
Yoo Joonghyuk's expression changed, but only just. His lips moved slightly, and now they were his usual neutral expression rather then the frown he'd worn previously. The grip on his wrist only grew tighter, and Yoo Joonghyuk pulled a little, forcing Kim Dokja closer to him lest he fall on top of him completely.
"You're a coward," he said, resolutely. Then, without warning, Yoo Joonghyuk kissed him.
Kim Dokja blinked, once, twice, three times. He wasn't dreaming, the scene didn't change and Yoo Joonghyuk's lips were still pressed firmly against his own. The grip on his wrist was painfully tight, now, pulling him closer and closer until there was barely any space left between them.
His body was reacting faster than he could. Slowly, his eyes fluttered shut, and he pressed himself against Yoo Joonghyuk to kiss him back. It was clumsy and awkward, he most definitely had never done this before, but he couldn't help but sigh against his lips. They were surprisingly soft, considering how rough and calloused his hands were.
As soon as Kim Dokja responded, Yoo Joonghyuk grew bolder. His other hand came up to hold his neck, pushing them closer together. He licked slowly at his lips, seemingly content to just taste him for the moment. Kim Dokja felt his skin burn hot, flushing heavily all the way to the tips of his ears.
He'd never done anything like this before, ever. Not even once before the apocalypse had he went out on a date. There had never been a point before then, and now that the world was ending…
After what felt like hours, they parted. Kim Dokja was breathing heavily, looking up at Yoo Joonghyuk with both confusion and probably, admittedly, a little bit of awe. Whatever expression was on his face, Yoo Joonghyuk's lips twitched into a small smile.
His eyes were so beautiful from up close, Kim Dokja realized. They seemed to sparkle in the light from his lamp, bouncing off in all different directions.
"Do you understand now?" Yoo Joonghyuk asked, still looking at him. It was amazing, really, how he could do something like that and not even bat an eye at himself. Kim Dokja was still bright red.
It took him a minute to process the question, brain still fully too caught up on Yoo Joonghyuk just kissed him to understand words properly. He was also purposefully avoiding whatever indirect messages were pouring in, which wasn't helping his situation.
He shook his head. Did he understand what? "Actually, I think I'm more confused," he replied, voice sounding far more dazed then he would've liked. He made to scramble off the bed again, but Yoo Joonghyuk was still holding him down firmly.
But really, he didn't understand. One moment, he was bringing in tea for a sick… friend. Member of his party. Person that he knew inside and out. The next moment, he was trying to leave, and said person wasn't letting him.
And now his heart felt like it would fall right out of his chest and straight through the floor with how hard it was beating. Now he was looking at Yoo Joonghyuk like he'd never looked at him before in his life, and his lips were already trying to memorize the feeling of his on them. He liked his lips without fully realizing, only noticing his actions when Yoo Joonghyuk's eyes moved down to follow the motion.
This was too much, too much, too much. How was he supposed to look this person in the eyes ever again? How were they supposed to fight together, to live together, to do anything together when Kim Dokja knew this memory would be imprinted on him for as long as he lived? In any next life he had?
He gulped, the noise audible and echoing in the silence of the room.
"You're a coward," Yoo Joonghyuk repeated. "You're a coward, and I'm telling you to stop running away from this." It was blunt, to the point — just as he always was, but Kim Dokja had never thought he'd hear those kinds of words coming out of his mouth, much less directed at him.
Or what, he almost wanted to ask, but he wisely shut his mouth. Do you even know how I feel about you was his next attempt at answering, but he knew that would get him nowhere. He was nearly positive even the blind could tell him how he felt about Yoo Joonghyuk.
He wasn't an idiot. He was just in denial. And he would have continued to be, had Yoo Joonghyuk been content to let him be awful in peace.
Yoo Joonghyuk looked exhausted, and Kim Dokja couldn't help but take pity on him. He was sick, he reminded himself. He wasn't just warm because of the kiss. He was warm because he had a fever, and here he was, actively taking advantage of a sick person. Truly, he was the worst. Maybe Lee Jihye was right.
"Whatever you're thinking about, stop," Yoo Joonghyuk said, interrupting him. "Just be honest with me, for once in your life."
At that, Kim Dokja bristled. "I don't lie," he started, then immediately amended himself at the look he was given. "I don't lie to you. Much." The unimpressed stare didn't changed, and he sighed deeply. "You know how I feel. I think that's obvious. What do you want me to say?"
For a long, long moment, Yoo Joonghyuk simply studied him. And during that moment, Kim Dokja wondered once again what he might look like to such a person. He knew what Yoo Joonghyuk looked like — he could spot him instantly in any crowd, in any time, any place. There was a part of him that would always seek him out, he knew.
Was that the same for him? This person, who had come all the way to the 73rd Demon Realm, just to tell him to go back to Earth. Who had continuously fought with him, fought for him, who had—
Had been the person that Kim Dokja had loved most. Had been the one to fulfill his Fate, even if he hated himself while doing it. He'd known, in his heart, that he was a goner from the moment they'd met face to face on that bridge.
Really, he'd known it from the moment he saw the Scenarios start to begin in front of his eyes. Pretending otherwise really did make him a fool.
"You don't have to say it." Yoo Joonghyuk finally spoke, leaning back and finally letting go of him. "Just… stop running away from me." His head was on the pillow, and he closed his eyes.
Of course, he was tired. Kim Dokja was, too, and he wasn't even the sick one.
His words made his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. Stop running away from me. Yoo Joonghyuk had always found it difficult to be openly emotional once he started the Scenarios, especially with how much horror he'd had to go through in his many lifetimes. Kim Dokja knew he was putting a lot on the line for this. For him.
With a sigh, he crawled over to sit next to him, bringing out his phone. "I'll stay," he whispered, not sure if Joonghyuk would even be able to hear him. "I'm sorry." For hurting him, for taking so long, for being so unsure of himself and how to be close to anyone anymore. For everything, really.
It was fine if Joonghyuk couldn't hear him, though. He would just keep trying to make it up to him. Keep trying to be better. That's what he was doing right now, by sitting here as the other man slowly drifted off into sleep. Baby steps, right?
Kim Dokja nodded to himself, allowing himself another glance at the protagonist before heading back into the novel for research.
Baby steps.