the labour of love

by hid (paid)

Summary:

Yoo Joonghyuk goes to a college party and meets a boy, nothing short of explosive, and together, they are terrible. And in which Yoo Joonghyuk loves a dying star, and above all odds, brings him back to life.

 

or they meet, they fuck and they don't talk about anything. (they're both messes but it's fine)

Notes:

tragic people don't need tragic backstories for they will continue to be tragic despite it.

  It starts at a college party, as all the great romances do. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk isn’t one for this kind of scene, he prefers to be at home more often than not, streaming or playing games, both, ideally. He’s stoic and hard to approach. The most pressing issue is that he appears to be that kind of person, to the untrained eye, with his dark, intimidating looks and his penchant to appear with someone constantly hanging off his arm (not by his choice, most certainly). 

 

  He is the main attraction of the performance that is college, so naturally, he’s regularly be invited to these sorts of things. Though ‘regularly’ is putting it lightly, it’s more like there’s he has an unspoken open invitation to any and all parties held anywhere, at any time.

 

  Kim Dokja isn’t much for these kinds of scenes either, but spends far too much time at them anyways. He’s flighty and forever untrusting but spends far too much time looking for stability anyways. 

 

  He blends into the background far too easily, a singular, unassuming prop in this very same show. 

 

  It is a wonder they manage to meet at all.

✶

Yoo Joonghyuk

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk isn’t doing much at the party, he’s bored and falling asleep, a testament to how truly dull the party truly is. He’s leaning against the door, nursing his singular cup of beer that he’s been sipping on for the past two hours.

 

  The pulsing lights, loud electronic music, and the heady smell of sex and alcohol do absolutely nothing for him and he wonders if anyone would notice him ditching.

 

  He only came here because he made a promise to his sister to socialise more, anyways.

 

  There are footsteps approaching him from the side, he notices but doesn’t think much of it. He shuts his eyes and prays that the couple coming towards him will leave once they notice him and go make out somewhere else instead. 

 

  As the footsteps come closer and closer to him and the giggling of an inebriated couple approaches him, Yoo Joonghyuk wonders if God is real and if he was actually as kind as people made him out to be.

 

  Then, the giggling stops, and for a brief moment, he accepts that God is indeed real and kind but then it starts up again and he banishes his previous thought. 

 

  Unthinkably, the slurred whispered voices start moving further and further away, till the sound stops completely. Maybe it’s his good karma finally coming back to find him.

 

  A voice breaks into his thoughts, breaking into his stupor, “Hey, are you going to thank me for that?”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t even bother to open his eyes, as he sighs, from one problem to another, perhaps he spoke too soon once again. “Why would I need to thank you at all?”

 

  “I rescued your precious eyes from the disgusting and sinful image of a couple holding hands disturbing your peace, obviously,” the disembodied voice replies, and Yoo Joonghyuk can almost hear the smile in his voice. 

 

  “...Thank you?” He replies, rolling his eyes under his eyelids.

 

  “Wow, you don’t even have the basic decency to open your eyes to thank your saviour?” The voice quips teasingly.

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk opens one eye, just to get a glimpse of this annoying man who has been pestering him non-stop. Then, he blinks, the man in front of him is pretty—scratch that, beautiful. In his own nondescript way, long lashes framing his large smiling eyes. He is attractive in a way that isn’t shocking, pleasing enough to the eye but not that much that any passerby would give him a second glance. 

 

  If Yoo Joonghyuk’s looks are a scream, a loud howl demanding attention no matter where he goes, this guy’s is a whisper, like the light breeze of the wind blowing past, barely noticeable but always there. 

 

  Blinking blearily at the man in front of him, he shakes his head, and asks, “What’s your name?”

 

  “Woah, first name basis already? Slow down, aren’t we moving a bit fast Joonghyukie? We just met, after all.”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk pauses, one, two, three. Whatever haze had surrounded him before was gone now, he raised an eyebrow and snapped, “How do you know my name.”

 

  Not a question, a simple, straightforward demand.

 

  The strange man in front of him smiles, “Who doesn’t?”

 

  “You aren’t answering the question.”

 

  “My name is Kim Dokja, quid pro quo?” Kim Dokja replies, smile off his face now, eyes flitting up and down Yoo Joonghyuk’s body lazily, like a predator hunting his prey. 

 

  “That is not your real name, don’t lie to me,” he returns in kind, eyes narrowing, this guy must take him for an idiot with that ridiculous name.

 

  “I’m hurt really, that you think so lowly of me. Dokja means ‘reader’, also ‘only child’ but I prefer ‘reader’.” 

 

  Kim Dokja is avoiding the question again, but also answering it at the same time, a habit that is starting to get on his nerves. 

 

  “Whatever, Kim Dokja , what do you want from me?” 

 

  Kim Dokja looks coyly at him through hooded eyes, eyes glinting in the dark, he smiles, “I should get a reward for my help, shouldn’t I?” 

 

  He pauses, “I’m going to kiss you now,” and he pauses for a beat but Yoo Joonghyuk is much too stunned to even formulate an answer before he feels another pair of lips on his.

✶

  There are hands in his hair and hands on his shirt and hands on his hips, there’s a soft pair of lips on his, and Yoo Joonghyuk can’t think . He can’t think of anything beyond the hands on him, touching him, burning a trail down his body, he feels every little movement of Kim Dokja’s hands on him, his nails scraping down Yoo Joonghyuk’s body. There’s a warm breath tickling his ear, and teeth nibbling on the lobe.

 

  He is ridiculously hard, and he can feel extremely clearly where the imprint of Kim Dokja’s dick through cloth presses into his skin.

 

  They stumble into his dorm room somehow, hands still roaming all over each other. Yoo Joonghyuk grasps Kim Dokja’s waist with one hand and is amazed at how far he manages to make it across his waist, almost half of it. The soft fabric of Kim Dokja’s shirt clings to him well, showing off his lithe body with the barest hint of muscle. 

 

  He noticed that shirt just now, an off-white, presumably used to be white, well-worn. That same shirt is now bunched up in his hand, and he holds onto it for dear life.

 

  He nips back at Kim Dokja’s neck and is rewarded by a heady groan that rushes straight to his dick. His neck is a pale extent of skin, more malnourished than well taken care of, there are fading bruises against his neck, evidence of another on his skin. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk presses his lips harder against that neck. 

 

  There’s something he doesn’t like about the idea of another touching this man, more so leaving marks on him. He presses his lips harder against Kim Dokja’s neck, right above the fading bruises, removing the presence of the other mysterious presence on him. 

 

  “Breathe easy, darlin’, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon,” Kim Dokja murmurs into his mouth, breathy and panting. His words are warm against Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips and Yoo Joonghyuk leans further into him to lick those words right out of his mouth. 

 

  “You have nowhere to go to,” Yoo Joonghyuk replies, pressing him against a wall, and caging Kim Dokja in with his arms. His eyes are black, pupils dilated from adrenaline, and he can feel his heart beating in his chest far faster than usual. 

 

  He closes his eyes and counts to ten as Kim Dokja presses his palm against his dick, finally giving him some friction. 

 

  He replies in kind, moving his lips further down south, his hands dragging down the thinner’s body, he thinks vaguely, ‘ He is much too skinny . He can feel the hip bones of the other, and then his thighs, and then the in-between. 

 

  “Where else would I want to be?” Kim Dokja replies, grinning, as he drags his hand upwards on Yoo Joonghyuk’s chest, along his abs, and tweaks a nipple between his finger. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t recall where his shirt went but god he’s so grateful that it’s off right now. The sensation goes right back down, reverberating through his body like a current through a livewire. His toes curl inwards, and he shudders involuntarily, a low groan escaping through his mouth. 

 

  Kim Dokja notices this, of course, he does and he reaches his other hand from where it’s twisted around Yoo Joonghyuk up to his chest and captures his other nipple in between his fingers.

 

  A red flush appears on his chest, spreading up to his cheeks, a warm tingling feeling left behind and he feels exposed. 

 

  Kim Dokja’s watchful eyes don’t leave him be, “You look so pretty like this.”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk feels his dick jump where it is still trapped by his pants. He can feel himself slowly losing his grip on reality as his vision goes hazy. Kim Dokja hasn’t even touched him properly yet.

 

  Something has to change. 

 

  He pulls on Kim Dokja’s ratty shirt, pulling it clean off the man, his arms swinging and nearly smacking his stack of undone assignments off his desk. The small dorm room was barely made for one, let alone two. 

 

  It’s a tight fit, him, Kim Dokja, and his desk and bed. The shirt flies over his head to somewhere in the room and when Kim Dokja presses his lips to his neck, Yoo Joonghyuk loses every last shred of patience he has for this game they are playing.

 

  The man beneath him seems to sense this too, or perhaps he’s getting as desperate as Yoo Joonghyuk is, because he pulls Yoo Joonghyuk towards the small bed. 

 

  They land with a heavy thud on the mattress, Kim Dokja still underneath him, and Yoo Joonghyuk can feel the ghost of a dick pressed into his thigh and he reaches down to lift Kim Dokja up. 

✶

  Yoo Joonghyuk wakes up the next day to an empty bed, and when he rolls over from where he’s pressed up against the wall, the spot next to him has long gone cold. It’s not something that should bother him, a mere one-night-stand. 

 

  Yet it does, he pricks at him in a way he hates, and it disgusts him to think of himself as anything desperate. He isn’t used to chasing people around, more often than not it’s others after him. The role reversal is unsettling in a strange way. 

 

  So he does what he does best, and compartmentalises it. 

 

  He doesn’t think of it much after that, with a whole slew of examinations and deadlines coming up for him, he’s busy enough to not think about anything much at all. 

 

  This routine is familiar to him, wake up, work, eat, stream and sleep, then the cycle repeats. His days fade into each other, a blur of dulled colours. It’s mind-numbingly monotonous, he’s restless, antsy.

 

  So he walks into a bar one night, as the night starts to creep into the evening sky, casting a shadow over the entire city.

 

  The bar is a favourite amongst the students, close enough to campus to walk to right after class for a drink and classy enough that it wasn’t likely that the drinks would be spiked.

 

  There’s some random song playing in the background, most certainly from the Top 100 playlist and Yoo Joonghyuk sinks into the alluring ambiance of dim lighting.

 

  “One, um,” he pauses, realising he doesn't have any idea what drinks people usually have, “Whatever is best here.”

 

  “Don’t come here much?” A familiar voice breaks into his thoughts and he looks up, surprised.

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk blinks, once, “Kim Dokja?”

 

  Kim Dokja smirks, “That’s my name.”

 

  “What are you doing here?”

 

  Kim Dokja tilts his head, “I work here, thank you very much.”

 

  “What. Since when?” Yoo Joonghyuk asks.

 

  “Since forever? How would you know? I’ve never seen you here before,” Kim Dokja retorts, raising an eyebrow.

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk has no answer to that, well, largely because it’s true. He fixes his stare on Kim Dokja instead, deciding that that is sufficient enough of an answer.

 

  Kim Dokja doesn’t respond to that, just sighing and turning back to the counter behind him. He watches mesmerised as Kim Dokja’s hands dance as he pours liquids into some sort of container, then he tosses it into one hand, spinning it before shaking it and pouring it skillfully into a glass. 

 

  Kim Dokja turns back around, and slides the drink over, with a smile, leaning forward expectantly.

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk stares at the drink suspiciously, looking between the glass and Kim Dokja.

 

  “What? Aren’t you going to take a sip?”

 

  “Hmm,” Yoo Joonghyuk hums, shooting a half-grin toward the other, “What if you poisoned it?”

 

  “Me? No way, I’m more of a knife-to-the-throat kinda guy, you know?” He replies, voice a teasing lilt.

 

  “Knives are generally more personal weapons, compared to more impersonal weapons such as guns or poison,” Yoo Joonghyuk notes.

 

  “A Criminology student? You surprise me,” Kim Dokja laughs.

 

  “No, I like Criminal Minds.”

 

  Kim Dokja slides his hands under his chin and fixes Yoo Joonghyuk with a look , one he can’t figure out, “Oh? Same here.” Then he gestures toward the abandoned drink on the table, “Well, since we established that I’m in fact, not planning to poison you, aren’t you planning to give me a chance?” 

 

  “Fine,” and he pours the drink down his throat, only to regret it almost immediately as the drink burns its way down his digestive tract.

 

  “You said you weren’t going to poison me, Kim Dokja!” Yoo Joonghyuk hacks out in between coughs.

 

  Kim Dokja shrugs, “I didn’t know you couldn’t handle your liquor?”

 

  “Did you just serve me your strongest drink for fun?” 

 

  “Look, just because you get all your drinks at frat parties after they’ve been either spiked or diluted, doesn’t make me liable for your poor handling of alcohol of medium strength.” The bartender retorts, staring Yoo Joonghyuk down.

 

  “My bad, Mr. Professional Sommelier,” he mutters back sarcastically.

 

  “As you should be.”

 

  “So what do you actually study? I actually don’t know much about you other than your amazingly good looks,” Kim Dokja remarks, ending off the statement with a wink. Yoo Joonghyuk pauses and watches a pink tongue poke out from between his lips, swiping over them, almost unconsciously. 

 

  The room starts to feel a lot smaller as Kim Dokja leans imperceptibly forward, eyes large and searching. Maybe it’s the alcohol getting to him, as he feels the liquor burn in his gut, and the room grows noticeably warmer. He reaches up to brush a lock of hair off his face and looks down into the half-full cup. 

 

“Hello? Earth to Yoo Joonghyuk?” The voice breaks into his thoughts, and Yoo Joonghyuk startles.

 

  “Computer Science, minoring in Game Design.”

 

  “Oh right, you already have that huge job lined up, don’t you?”

 

  “Yes,” Yoo Joonghyuk replies, blinking at the man in front of him. He received the offer to join a team as one of their gamers a month ago, he wonders how Kim Dokja knows that. 

 

  “Bet you’re going to make good money from that?” There’s a tinge of unhappiness in the statement, barely even there, disguised by Kim Dokja’s flat tone. 

 

  “Yes, I think,” Yoo Joonghyuk replies once more, and he regrets it soon after because Kim Dokja doesn’t speak anymore. He only replies with a sound of acknowledgment before finally turning away from him to the other customers, many of which have been waiting far too long. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk blames his inability to speak properly and to have conversations with people beyond the bare minimum. He has never been a sociable child.

 

  He’s lost his chance, he thinks, as he looks down at his palms. He feels a bit like a forlorn lover, which is ridiculous because they haven’t reached anywhere near that stage. He shuts his eyes and presses his palms against the lids. 

 

  Yet, tonight went better than he thought it would go, and all the evidence points to a singular person responsible for his significantly improved mood, Kim Dokja.

 

  The weight on his chest has subsided, now just left with the painful squeezing of it. Maybe he should get back to the dorm to do one last final edit of his work before he turns it in on Friday, he shoots a glance at his watch. It’s 1 am. He’s definitely fucked tomorrow, he’s never going to wake up in time for his morning lecture.

 

  Then, Kim Dokja turns back around to him, a glass of soju in hand. 

 

  “You didn’t tell me you had soju here,” Yoo Joonghyuk says before the words actually compute in his brain, and he feels his cheeks warm the slightest bit at the outburst.

 

  “Well, you didn’t ask,” Kim Dokja answers with a shrug, twirling the glass between his fingers. 

 

  “And you didn’t think to offer that instead of whatever this is?” He replies in kind, gesturing to the glass in front of him.

 

  “I’ll let you know that is some expensive stuff right there, and I didn’t even ask you to pay. Where’s the gratitude?” Kim Dokja chirps, unbothered.

 

  “I would like to offer you my most sincere lack of gratitude for this terrible drink,” Yoo Joonghyuk drawls drily.

 

  “There’s certainly no accounting for taste.”

 

  “I have impeccable taste.”

 

  Kim Dokja raises an eyebrow and shrugs, “Whatever you say.” He pauses, for a moment, almost hesitant, “Hey, my shift ends soon, wanna get out of here?”

 

  “Yeah,” he nods, quickly, maybe tonight was going to be much better than he had previously assumed.

 

  “Desperate aren’t you?” That lazy smirk of his slides right back onto his face, as his eyes, twinkle underneath the low lights.

 

  “How could I not be?” He replies and Kim Dokja smiles.

  His shift ends soon after that, and Kim Dokja waits for the last customer to walk out the door and then immediately pulls Yoo Joonghyuk over the counter to meet his lips. Yoo Joonghyuk stills for a moment, stunned but it’s only for barely a second before he’s eagerly meeting Kim Dokja’s lips. 

 

  His lips are just as soft as he remembers, and Yoo Joonghyuk can taste the distinct taste of alcohol, he isn’t sure if it’s from him or Kim Dokja.

 

  Kim Dokja breaks away and leaves him confused but then, in one fluid motion, he pushes himself up and over the counter to Yoo Joonghyuk’s side. Then he presses his lips back against Yoo Joonghyuk’s briefly, “Hey, I still need to close up, ‘kay?”

 

  “Yeah, your place or mine?” Yoo Joonghyuk mutters, lips pressed up against the other’s neck. 

 

  “Yours.” 

 

  “‘Kay,” he replies, and he reluctantly releases the hand that has wrapped around Kim Dokja, pressing his lips against his neck once more as the shorter giggles into his neck.

 

  The clean-up is quick, probably messy but Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t notice, his blood burning in his veins. The other man is equally as distracted, swiping lightly across the tables and throwing all the glasses into the dishwasher without sparing them an extra glance. He whirls around the room, sweeping the floors and pushing in chairs, switching off the lights. Every passing second feels like an eternity, and Yoo Joonghyuk can feel the pinpricks on his skin in anticipation of the night to come. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk blinks blearily at the clock on the wall, the thin needle hands pointing at a time that is far past his usual already unholy bedtime. He’s a mess right now, but yet he’s never felt more alive. He presses his eyelids shut.

 

  He doesn’t see Kim Dokja approaching him, not until he feels arms wrapped around him and a weight on his lap. He opens his eyes to see a face too close to him, his vision is blurry beyond two eyes shining like mini planets looking straight back at him.

 

  “Hey, stranger.” 

 

  “Hey.”

 

  “Let’s get out of here?” The man on his lap breathes out, voice low. Kim Dokja is a vision above him, his long black locks falling into his face, a slight smile playing on his lips, and Yoo Joonghyuk can’t help but think of how else Kim Dokja would look in this exact position naked. 

 

  “I didn’t bring my car,” he says, and he sorely regrets his moment of oversight, he doesn’t want to make the long tread back to his dorm, not now. 

 

  Kim Dokja huffs in amusement, “It’s fine, we’ll walk, and get our blood pumping before the show.”

 

  And so they walk. They walk out of the now-dark bar, and down the brick-paved road back to the campus, the ghostly lights of streetlamps forming shadows at their feet. It’s late at night and it’s perfect, there is something deeply attractive about illicit affairs in the dark. 

 

  There’s a smile on Kim Dokja’s face as he looks down at his feet as he skips across the cracks in the pavement, then back at Yoo Joonghyuk. He smiles back, eyes curling into crescents, the alcohol is burning in the of his throat. Time slows down,  he blames the alcohol for him giving into his vices.

 

  They reach the small dorm room in no time at all, and the same thing happens again. Routine.

 

  His arms go around Kim Dokja’s slim waist, and Kim Dokja’s arms around his, binding them together. Yoo Joonghyuk presses his body into the other’s, he feels himself burning from the inside out. He presses his lips onto the other’s neck, teeth scraping against the skin. 

 

  Kim Dokja returns the favour.

 

  Kim Dokja bites into his neck, the pain thoroughly unexpected to Yoo Joonghyuk but not entirely unwelcome. It’s sharp, and immediate, shooting right down south. He has something to say at the tip of his tongue, but he can’t spit it out, can’t bear to tear away from the porcelain skin beneath his teeth. He bites down harder instead. 

 

  Eloquence is a difficult thing. Yet, Kim Dokja seems to pull it off every time. He whispers in the taller man’s ear, “I want to fuck you tonight.” 

 

  Kim Dokja presses his lips right back on Yoo Joonghyuk’s without waiting for an answer, and Yoo Joonghyuk stops thinking for a moment just to feel . Kim Dokja is all around him, and he tastes sweet with a tinge of bitterness, he can’t quite place the taste. 

 

  But it’s attractive because everything about Kim Dokja is attractive. 

 

  Especially his lips when Yoo Joonghyuk pulls away, just for a breath, a string of saliva attaching them together still. His lips shone like gossamer, red, swollen and bitten raw. Yoo Joonghyuk is almost proud of his handiwork.

 

  “I’ve never been fucked before,” he breathes, unsure. His lack of experience seems to have the opposite effect on Kim Dokja because he can hear the other’s breath hitch.

 

  He can feel Kim Dokja’s dick straining against the confines of his pants along with his own rubbing painfully against the tough denim of his jeans. He knows full well that Kim Dokja can feel it too because he reaches down to wrap his hand around Yoo Joonghyuk’s erection to give it a light squeeze. 

 

  It’s almost encouraging if Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t fully aware of the situation they were in. 

 

  “Let me be your first time?” The question is a seemingly innocuous one, but Yoo Joonghyuk nearly chokes from his sheer want. It’s a simple decision really, when those eyes were looking at him like that. 

 

  He wants, he wants, he wants. He wants Kim Dokja to do whatever he wants to him. He wants to be pressed down into a mattress, something he has never thought of before. He wants to dig his nails into Kim Dokja’s skin to carve reminders into his body. He wants Kim Dokja to do the same to him. He wants to dig a hole into the man’s body and never leave. He says none of this.

 

  “Ok.” 

 

  The slight curl of the other’s lips is his only answer. 

  Much like the first time, it’s a tight squeeze, two far too large grown man in a single bed. They make it work because it has to. They fall into bed easily, and Kim Dokja’s ass lands squarely on top of Yoo Joonghyuk’s dick. His ass is plush and soft and Yoo Joonghyuk groans as he seriously contemplates slamming Kim Dokja into the mattress to fuck the life out of him. 

 

  Maybe another time, if there is one, he promises himself.

 

  Kim Dokja pushes him down, hands pressed into his shoulders. He stares down at the other and grins darkly. Yoo Joonghyuk can see himself in his eyes, his mouth is gaping slightly, his eyes dazed as he lies spread out below the other man. 

 

  He wonders what Kim Dokja is thinking when he looks at him like that. 

 

  There’s a predatory glint in the slight man’s eye as leans down to press the tip of his nose against the nose of the man below him. He presses a kiss to those lips, brief and sweet, completely unlike his hungry gaze. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk returns that look with one of his own, baring his teeth a little as he looks at the man above him through hooded lashes. 

 

  “What are you waiting for?” He asks, teeth glinting. A taunt that Kim Dokja gladly falls for. 

 

  Kim Dokja pulls off Yoo Joonghyuk’s shirt instead, nearly tearing it in half in his hurry. Yoo Joonghyuk tries to help pull at his tight denim jeans, loosening the zipper. 

 

  In their hurry, both pairs of hands get tangled together trying to pull the jeans down his legs. It’s messy but slow, incomparable to the first time when they were just looking for a quick fuck, a one-night stand. They have at least the illusion of more time now. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk is almost bare, sticky skin pressed up against the cotton sheets of his bed. His boxers are clearly tented, straining against the constricting fabric till Kim Dokja pulls them down and tosses the offending piece of clothing somewhere in the room. 

 

  He’s stark naked and Kim Dokja hasn’t even taken off his shirt yet, rather unfair if you asked him.

 

  He decides to level the playing ground. He reaches up to pull the other’s shirt over his head, and he can hear giggling from where Kim Dokja’s face is covered by the shirt. He yanks it off the other’s head properly this time. When he starts to reach down for the other’s pants, he’s stopped by a hand. 

 

  When he looks up questioningly, the other only smirks at him.

 

  “Let me do it myself,” Kim Dokja says, voice husky. 

 

  There is something in his voice that sends chills down Yoo Joonghyuk’s spine so he complies, despite the ache in his lower abdomen growing more and more prominent. 

 

  And he does not regret it.

 

  Kim Dokja makes a show out of something as small as taking off his clothes. He teases, slowly unbuttoning his dress pants, exposing every bit of tantalising skin inch by inch. Kim Dokja makes stripping seem like a craft, as he slowly finishes up with his pants, tossing them away to join the stack of other clothes on the floor. Then he makes quicker work with his boxers, eyes shining with mirth but a hint of desperation as he pulls them down his legs in the exact same manner as the pants. 

 

  Then, Kim Dokja shifts on top of him and looks down properly, his eyes clear as if seeing Yoo Joonghyuk for the first time. His eyes are blown wide and shiny, when he says “You look gorgeous.”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk can feel his face warm, along with the rest of his body as red creeps down his neck to his chest. He looks up at the man staring at him, and likens him to a god. 

 

  Kim Dokja looks ethereal above him, his hair now matted with sweat hanging down on his face, casting a shadow over his eyes. His eyes are stormy and starving, looking down on Yoo Joonghyuk with a hard glint in his eye. His lips are spit-slick, and there’s a soft pink flush to his cheeks. His chest extends into a slender waist and narrow hips, his legs long and lean. He looks every bit like a marble statue carved by a master. 

 

  “Do you have lube?” The man above him asks, propped up on his arms. 

 

  “Desk, drawer closest to you,” Yoo Joonghyuk mutters, distracted by the bead of sweat making its way down Kim Dokja’s slender neck, he wants to lick it.

 

  Said man pulls out the bottle of lube wordlessly, and slathers some on his fingers. With wet fingers, he traces a line down Yoo Joonghyuk’s body from his chest, lingering around his nipples and down to his dick. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk feels himself harden even more in anticipation if that was humanly possible.

 

  Kim Dokja avoids his dick entirely and Yoo Joonghyuk lets out an embarrassing whine which is quickly cut off by those same fingers tracing down further to his perineum and down to his hole. 

 

  “Wha—” He starts off as the cold fingers lightly trace his hole but quickly cuts himself off with a moan when a fingertip presses into it without warning. 

 

  His stomach lurches and his automatic reaction is a full-body shudder. It’s not exactly pleasant immediately, almost uncomfortable.

 

  “Relax,” Kim Dokja hushes, “It’s going to feel good soon.” Then he adds, “Trust me, baby.” And god, Yoo Joonghyuk wants to, his brain forming static at the word ‘baby’.

 

  He tries his best to follow instructions, relaxing into Kim Dokja’s touch. He can feel the other’s finger in him, pressing against his walls. It’s good almost, as he sucks in air to force himself to relax. 

 

  Then it starts feeling better, it’s so much better than Yoo Joonghyuk had expected, the sensations shooting straight towards his dick where precome is beading at its head. Tiny jolts of electricity shoot through him every time Kim Dokja even twitches his finger, and Yoo Joonghyuk can feel himself panting.

 

  “You’re so fucking tight, fuck,” Kim Dokja curses, and it feels like praise. 

 

  Then, Kim Dokja presses another finger in and Yoo Joonghyuk has never felt more full in his life. He groans as he feels Kim Dokja inside of him. It’s good, it’s so good.

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk feels something wet and soft prodding at his entrance, it’s not another finger because fingers don’t feel like that . He yelps in surprise, and Kim Dokja shushes him, “I’m going to make you feel good, do you feel good?”

 

  “Ye—Yes, more please,” he whines into the humid air of the small room. He can feel tears forming in his eyes from how much everything around him feels, there are fingers in his ass, spreading him apart for Kim Dokja’s tongue. His tongue that is currently tracing circles around Yoo Joonghyuk’s hole as he twitches on the mattress panting, pushing his hips further down on Kim Dokja’s face. 

 

  He wants Kim Dokja’s tongue in him, no, he needs it. “Please, do it already,” he pants, face flushed from exertion. 

 

  Kim Dokja doesn’t reply, face still stuck in between his thighs. Instead, he tilts his head to the side and bites into the muscled flesh of Yoo Joonghyuk’s thigh, then back to his hole. He can distinctly feel teeth scraping against the tender flesh of his hole, and Kim Dokja’s wet tongue hovering right above it.

  

  He receives no warning when Kim Dokja’s tongue plunges past the tight ring of muscle of his entrance, where it’s held open by his fingers. He can feel the corner of lips pressed against his skin turn up at his surprised yelp. He groans, and Kim Dokja groans in tandem with him, the sound going straight back to his dick, which cannot possibly get any harder.

 

   He’s so full.

 

  The soft light of the lamp beside them is little more than a white blur in Yoo Joonghyuk’s teary eyes. He can feel his lashes cling to his skin, the shiny tears acting as an adhesive. Then Kim Dokja prods his tongue even deeper and Yoo Joonghyuk starts feeling tears drip down his cheeks, hot and wet.

 

“You’re so wet and open, like a girl,” he says, punctuating the statement by slipping two fingers back in Yoo Joonghyuk’s hole to replace his tongue. 

 

  “I’m not—a girl,” Yoo Joonghyuk retorts. 

 

  Kim Dokja hums, “Not usually maybe, not anyone else, but you’re my baby girl aren’t you?”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk should be more repulsed by that statement, he should be. He’s not though, especially not when Kim Dokja reaches down to grip his dick. He arches his back, pulling the other’s hand on his dick with him while simultaneously forcing Kim Dokja’s fingers to press against that spot. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk wants more. Now.

 

  “What are you—waiting for?” Yoo Joonghyuk says, eyes meeting Kim Dokja’s.

 

  Kim Dokja’s eyes go wide for a moment, his face already flushed from exertion. Then he smiles, an expression far from appropriate for the situation they are currently in. “Oh—?”

 

  He pauses for a moment, “Fine, I’ll give you what you want.” 

 

  Then, without any proper warning, Kim Dokja slams into Yoo Joonghyuk’s already loose hole. 

 

  “Fuck!” Yoo Joonghyuk calls out from the sudden intrusion. It’s a different feeling, far larger than the fingers that were previously in him. It’s far better actually. He presses his face into the pillow below him, far too tightly wound up already.  

 

  “Move,” he demands, his voice hoarse.

 

  Kim Dokja doesn’t reply verbally, instead, he chooses to start thrusting into Yoo Joonghyuk’s ass. “Keep doing that,” he pants out between thrusts, “ Please.” 

 

  The pressure that has been building up inside of his core for far too long starts to boil with fury, his stomach clenching as he throws his head back. He bursts like a dam when Kim Dokja pounds deep into his ass again, hitting that spot in his ass perfectly. 

 

  Kim Dokja doesn’t say a word, reaching down again for his dick and pressing it in his hand, forcing out a few last squirts of come. He pulls out of Yoo Joonghyuk and pulls at his own dick once before he comes, face screwed up in pleasure, his body shaking as he reaches completion.  

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk can’t tear his eyes away, even as his lids slowly fall down over his eyes until all he sees is black.

✶

  He wakes up again to an empty bed, the side is slightly warm so he knows the other hasn’t been gone for long. It’s not a pleasant feeling to be abandoned again but he makes it work.

 

  His abandonment issues are no one’s fault but his own anyways. 

 

  There's a layer of something on the sheets, from where the both of them had collapsed the night before. When they were too exhausted to care about anything other than each other and a bed. 

 

  It’s frankly sort of disgusting, lying in the leftover, dried fluids of yesterday’s affair. Yoo Joonghyuk grimaces as he picks himself up off the bed and tosses the sheets into the washing machine. His entire body aches , it hurts to even walk. 

 

  He sort of regrets it. (No, he doesn’t.)

 

  Kim Dokja is a slippery, slippery bastard and Yoo Joonghyuk would be awed at his dedication to his part (waking up that early isn’t easy) if he wasn’t so annoyed by it. 

 

  He probably shouldn’t be putting so much stock in Kim Dokja’s actions, they aren’t anything more than…one-night stands isn’t the right term, perhaps fuckbuddies would be better. 

 

  He shouldn’t know or care about Kim Dokja at all beyond what they do in the dark.

 

  But he’s curious, who is this enigma of a man? 

 

  He decides to do a little of his own digging. Sue him, he’s never been one for flings, far too overly invested in every little thing. 

 

  What he finds about Kim Dokja is a lot more surprising. What is surprising about it is there is virtually no information about the man, he’s a ghost somehow slipping through the cracks of the heavily intertwined threads of the college campus. It doesn’t make sense for absolutely no one to know anything about him, yet, this is the reality Yoo Joonghyuk is faced with. Their college is relatively small (assuming he attends this college), and everyone knows everyone, it’s a close-knit group. Even if they aren’t in the same class, there are clubs and it just happens that people always just happen to hear about someone else. 

 

  Nothing escapes campus gossip.

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk knows he’s popular, it's a fact at this point. He doesn’t remember a time he wasn’t popular, though this definition of popular is shaky at best. He’s more of an urban legend to many, he rarely keeps people close enough to see them as human. 

 

  No matter, he uses it to the best of his advantage anyways. He asks around casually at first, slipping the name ‘Kim Dokja’ to see if anyone would offer any personal anecdotes they would have of the man. But he comes up with nothing. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk wonders if he attends this college. He wonders if this Kim Dokja attends college at all. 

 

  He decides to approach this more forcefully, asking directly if anyone knows of someone named Kim Dokja, and when someone asks what major ‘Kim Dokja’ is from, he stills and realises that he never asked. He truly knows nothing about the man.

 

  It is a truly unpleasant feeling to be desperately searching for a trace of this enigmatic man. 

 

  He wonders, ‘ Who the fuck are you, you slippery bastard? ’

✶

  Maybe meeting Han Sooyoung is the twist of fate he had been waiting for. Though he isn’t sure if she’s a gift from heaven or hell. 

 

  Han Sooyoung is a shock, the first time he meets her. Maybe it’s not the first time they’ve been in each other’s presence but it certainly is the first time he noticed her. They were pushed together, partnered by a professor for a project for his singular required humanities course. He despises this course, and regularly makes the effort to skip every few lessons. This is a huge feat, let it be known that Yoo Joonghyuk does not simply not attend classes. 

 

  University is not cheap, he realises now that his parents no longer send him monthly checks with enormous amounts written on them. He is going to get his money’s worth. 

 

  Unbelievably, even to himself, he had chosen to take a Creative Writing course for reasons even unknown to himself. He has never been one for words, spoken or written, he appreciates a good story once in a while when playing a game but more often than not skims through the dialouge instead. 

 

  Quoting the professor himself, “Joonghyuk, I would like you to work with Sooyoung here for this project, she’s one of the best students I’ve ever taught and I think you really need the help.” 

 

  It’s not necessarily untrue, he is extremely aware of his abilities as a writer; somewhere between 9-10th grade at best.

 

  But the catch is that he simply doesn’t care about the course, he doesn’t need it to graduate. He already has a job lined up, so he doesn’t need to show it for job interviews. This course is nothing more than a formality at best, to fulfill the college’s wishes for all students to attain a holistic education.

 

  “My name is Yoo Joonghyuk,” he states simply. 

 

  “Of course, I know who you are, I’m Han Sooyoung,” the girl replies. 

 

  She’s short, the top of her head not even reaching the bottom of his chin so he has to look down to meet her eyes. Her hair is cropped short, messily but in a fashionable way. She’s actually quite good-looking, he notes disinterestedly. 

 

  “Oi, do you even know what we are supposed to do for this project? I literally never see you in class,” the girl speaks, breaking the silence of their assessment of the other. 

 

  “...” 

 

  “Yeah, of course, you don’t what was I expecting?” Han Sooyoung mutters, rolling her eyes. 

 

  Han Sooyoung is a surprisingly reliable person, she briefs him on the project overview. The two of them are supposed to write a piece each that is located in the same world, and linked together somehow, but not with obvious threads such as the exact same characters. The professor is looking for something a bit different, apparently, he warned during the last lecture (which Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t attend). All in all, it sounds like a fucking pain.  

 

  “Look, I have some ideas already, and personally, I’m 99.9% sure they are better than anything you’ll come up with.” 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk is almost stunned at the audacity and the matter-of-fact tone Han Sooyoung makes the statement in. He raises an eyebrow, “Why are you so certain?”

 

  “I’m just clearly better than you at writing,” Han Sooyoung shrugs, face deadpan. 

 

  “You don’t know anything about me though?” He replies, facial expression equally unimpressed.

 

  “I know you are borderline failing this course,” Han Sooyoung states, eyebrows raised, “And I’m clearly excelling, we both know why we were put together.”

 

  “Do we?”

 

  “Yeah, duh. For me to save your sorry ass.”

 

  He really wonders if that statement even deserves a reply. No, is the right answer. 

 

  Han Sooyoung looks up at him, and then rolls her eyes again, “Well, I’m clearly going to be doing most of the work.”

 

  “If you wish,” Yoo Joonghyuk replies blandly, unbothered. There’s not much he could contribute anyways, she’s right after all. 

 

  “You are so lucky you have a nice face because you have the personality of a brick wall.”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk decides to pretend he never heard that 

 

  Han Sooyoung pauses for a moment then seems to recall something, “Hey, give me your number.”

 

  “Why?”

 

  “So I can contact you about the project, idiot,” she continues, “God, is your face the only good thing about you?”

 

✶

  The third time’s the charm or so the saying goes. It’s true, this time at least, although three has never been a good number to him. He’s well aware that 3 is a lucky number to many, and by that extension, he was born on a lucky day. Being born isn’t exactly on top of things he’s happy or grateful for, merely just another unimportant event.

 

  It’s also three o'clock when he makes his decision. 

 

  There’s someone doing tarot readings on campus for some sort of temporary Halloween event, even though Yoo Joonghyuk has no idea what Halloween has to do with tarot readings of all things. But Yoo Joonghyuk has seen so many posters and heard so many people talking about how “ Insanely accurate ” this guy is, and how “ He like, totally just knew what I meant instantly, you know? ”. 

 

  He is not a superstitious person, nor a religious one. He is acutely aware of the likelihood of this whole thing being nothing more than the Barum effect. Yet, here he is, standing in front of the door of an oddly suspicious-looking room that he never even knew existed on campus. 

 

  There’s a thick scent of incense wafting out the door that Yoo Joonghyuk nearly chokes on, but he braves on and pushes in the door. The room is nondescript, completely unlike the heavily adorned door outside, with a few bean bags and a simple low table. 

 

  Then, he stills, the shadowy figure backlit by a huge window is strangely familiar. He blinks slowly, squinting, “Kim Dokja?”

 

  “Yoo Joonghyuk?” 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes come into focus and Kim Dokja’s features slowly start to sharpen on his illuminated face. 

 

  The light shines straight down onto him, lighting his dark black hair gold. His eyes are clear, bright, and his skin shines with an almost ethereal glow. Then Yoo Joonghyuk blinks again and the light shifts, shading half of Kim Dokja’s face in shadow. There’s something much more appealing about Kim Dokja when he is in the dark, but maybe it’s a Pavlovian response he’s been conditioned into. 

 

  Kim Dokja stares at him disbelievingly, eyes wide, “What are you doing here?”

 

  “Aren’t you the tarot reader everyone’s been talking about?” He questions back, tilting his head.

 

  Kim Dokja sighs, and stretches, groaning. He cracks his neck, “Yeah, I guess, are you here for one?”   

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk inclines his head forward silently. Kim Dokja mumbles something under his breath, unintelligible.

 

  “What?”

 

  “Nothing, so a reading? What do you want one for?”

 

  “Don’t you just tell me my future?”

 

  Kim Dokja facepalms, physically. Yoo Joonghyuk is actually sort of amazed that people genuinely do it and it’s not just internet slang for expressing one’s exasperation.

 

  “No, it’s not,” Kim Dokja replies and starts on a long tangent about tarot cards, their history as playing cards, and their modern usage for fortune telling and the like. The meaning of the cards differs depending on different aspects of life, future, career, love etcetera. He starts rambling at the end, tone slightly heated as he complains about people taking the cards too literally when they are simply just merely a possibility rather than fate.

 

  It’s the most he’s heard Kim Dokja speak in one go.

 

  Then, Kim Dokja stops talking. He questions, “Why are you staring at me like that?” 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk shakes his head in response, slightly embarrassed he was caught red-handed. He tries to keep his tone as curt as possible as he asks, “I didn’t know you were into this kind of thing.”

 

  “ This kind of thing?” 

 

  “Yes,” Yoo Joonghyuk replies.

 

  “You sunfish basta— Nevermind, whatever. So a reading, right? Any particular questions about your future? Your love life , maybe?” Kim Dokja sighs. His change in demeanor is startling from what Yoo Joonghyuk has come to expect, the teasing tone and the flirty facade is gone as if this complete other side of him never existed. 

 

  “Sure.” He says and Kim Dokja gets to work

 

  “Here,” he says as he shoves a spread of cards in Yoo Joonghyuk’s face, “Pick 1.”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk follows his instructions dutifully and flips the card over to show Kim Dokja. Kim Dokja passes a brief glance over the cards and laughs. 

 

  “Your first card is Your third card, Three of Cups, reversed indicates that your romantic life may be exciting, but will end as quickly as it started,” Kim Dokja pauses, smiling, “Funny isn’t it?”

 

  He looks at Yoo Joonghyuk through hooded lashes grinning, but his eyes are cold, and perhaps it’s a warning.

✶

Kim Dokja 

 

  Kim Dokja blames himself for getting into this mess. He’s heard his name being spoken around campus far more times in the past week than he has heard for the past 3 years combined. 

 

  Clearly, he’s reaping what he sowed. And it fucking sucks. 

 

  Consequences are not simply a thing to be acknowledged, yet this one is simply calling his name, quite literally for that matter. Speaking of the devil, Han Sooyoung bursts into the room at the very same moment, “Kim Dokja!”

 

  Han Sooyoung could very well be a mind reader, an admittedly terrible one if she still refuses to acknowledge Kim Dokja’s blatant dislike of her. She’s like a pest, a very persistent one at that. 

 

  A parasite, more a bother than a friend, they only meet very rarely and always only when she forces her way into his life for some stupid reason like the fact she is a terrible person, virtually friendless and perpetually bored. 

 

  He knows she just wants an in on the latest gossip.

 

  Kim Dokja really doesn’t want to think of them as kindred spirits in that regard.

 

  He doesn’t look up from his phone, unwilling to grace her with the courtesy of an answer.

 

  “Something’s up between you and Yoo Joonghyuk. What is it?”

 

  Again, he refuses to reply. Maybe if he ignores her long enough she’ll go away.

 

  As always, she does not. Instead, she leans over him, hand blocking his phone screen. He looks up at her, eyes bored, “Can you leave?”

 

  “Answer my question, since you aren’t replying to my texts,” Han Sooyoung presses on, unbothered.

 

  “There’s nothing going on,” Kim Dokja says flatly, annoyed and maybe there’s something in his tone but Han Sooyoung doesn’t press any further. She squints at him, eyes calculating and he has the uncomfortable feeling she’s seeing something strange. 

 

  She doesn’t say more after that though, stalking out the door again, disappearing as quickly as she appeared. 

✶

  Yoo Joonghyuk: this is yoo joonghyuk 

 

  Kim Dokja: did you think i forgot u that fast

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk: i don’t know what to think about you 

 

  Kim Dokja: … 

 Kim Dokja: so i’m just going to take that as a compliment!

  Kim Dokja: these names are boring as fuck

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk: it’s literally just our names

  Yoo Joonghyuk: do you not like your name?

 

  Kim Dokja: u are such a dry texter but at least u have auto caps off…

  Kim Dokja: wtv

 

  [Kim Dokja has changed his name to dokja]

  [dokja has changed Yoo Joonghyuk’s name to sunfish]

 

  dokja: much better

✶

Yoo Joonghyuk 

 

   dokja: r u free tonight?

  

  The ding of the notification startles him, nearly dropping to the ground. As he typed out his reply, he mentally cancels his plans, if any, immediately.

 

  sunfish: yes

  sunfish: can you please change this stupid  name

 

  dokja: i think it fits you perfectly though?

  dokja: you just don’t see the vision

 

  sunfish: fuck you

  

  sunfish: where?

 

  dokja: @ the library 

 dokja: we’ll go from there

 

  sunfish: i’ll be there @ 7 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk sighs as he shuts his phone, uneasy though he cannot explain why.

✶

  It repeats, this cycle over and over again. One of them texts, always a question, never direct though the implication is more than obvious. At some point, the question part of this ritual is discarded, and rendered obsolete (They both know the other will never refuse). 

 

  They meet, they fuck and they don’t talk about it. 

 

  Perhaps the gradual intensity of their relationship trajectory is almost natural, they start texting each other for things beyond casual sex. It’s the little things at first when Kim Dokja asks for help with a math question, a text that Yoo Joonghyuk replies anyways, with the full solution. It progresses from there, Yoo Joonghyuk sending him random gaming-related news and Kim Dokja replying with, “fascinating shit buddy” and proceeds to genuinely make an effort to question him about it. It occurs almost vaguely to him that Kim Dokja is a tsundere. 

 

  They start meeting up far too often, but constantly shying away from public places almost from instinct. It forces them into each other’s dorms, small rooms with nowhere to hide. 

 

  It’s easy from there, the shift. Late-night marathons of Daredevil transition into sleeping in each other’s beds pressed up against each other. Clothes left in the ground slowly find their way to drawers, a spare set of slippers left at Kim Dokja’s, and homework left behind from the night before slaving away on the small table on the floor together.

 

  It’s difficult to pinpoint the exact moment of time they started dating. 

 

  Their relationship progression isn’t linear, but it’s somewhere around the time Yoo Joonghyuk finds Kim Dokja sleeping in his bed at 11 in the afternoon on Saturday. 

 

  Kim Dokja’s hair is mused from sleep, half of it is a tangled mess matted to his head, the other half flattened against his pillow. His face and upper body is largely hidden below a massive pile of blankets, warm from use. Drool pools below his lips on the sheets. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk blinks blearily at the scene beside him, feeling his entire body ache from the exertion of trying to get up before he decides that nope, it’s too much work, and lies back down. 

 

  It hits him then, like a truck running full speed down a road wet from rain. 

 

   Oh. 

 

  And he knows. 

 

  He has fallen into happiness somehow. 

 

  Happiness is a strange, nebulous being, an entity that Yoo Joonghyuk has often thought of himself as neglected by. It’s unfamiliar, but he cannot name the feeling in his chest anything else but. Maybe it’s not happiness he’s found, but satisfaction in this convoluted relationship. 

 

  He does not feel like breaking into song anytime soon, nor can he see flowers blooming at the edge of his vision every time he stares at Kim Dokja but he knows for certain this, whatever it was, is something he has to keep. 

✶

  “Lawyers are kind of hot.”

 

  “What?” 

 

  “Hey, I said what I said,” Kim Dokja replies from the other side of the counter, examining his nails, picking at them. 

 

  “Is this some kind of weird fetish?” 

 

  “Look, having a thing for smart men in suits is not a new thing, look at the millions of people worldwide falling for that shit in romance novels.” 

 

  “I genuinely think that you need to wean off the crime shows a little.” Yoo Joonghyuk drawls, as if he is not equally guilty of binging said shows with Kim Dokja. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk continues, “Has it occurred to you that you have a problem?”

 

  “First of all, I would like to say I liked you far better when you responded in one-syllable answers,” Kim Dokja remarks, stabbing a finger into Yoo Joonghyuk’s chest.

 

  “Secondly, I’ll do you one better, men in suits, covered in blood,” Kim Dokja says, eyes widening dramatically. 

 

  “You are disturbed.”

 

  “I know, ask anyone,” Kim Dokja replies, then pauses, “Yet, here you are.”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t know what to say to that, or rather, he doesn’t think he could encapsulate what he means with words, the enormity of his feelings. 

 

  “Here I am,” he says. 

 

  In hindsight, he looks back towards this moment often, and wonders briefly if he had said something different they wouldn’t have fallen apart. What he remembers vividly is the gaze Kim Dokja had on his face, eyes searching, tumultuous.

✶

  ‘There are things sometimes better left unsaid.’ is a line that has defined much of their relationship. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk does not talk about his past, he does not talk about where he came from, he does not talk about anything untoward. Kim Dokja repays this in kind and does not talk about his ambiguous past, how he hates being talked to in a certain way, his transient nature, and above all, his insistence that he remains invisible.

 

  It’s ironic really, because he isn’t, not at all. 

 

  The house of cards that their relationship was built on was always meant to fall, cascading once the bottom fails. 

 

  And it starts with a call.

 

  Yoo Mia is calling, not uncommon, in fact the opposite. Yet, Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t know why he hasn’t made her existence known to Kim Dokja just yet. It’s because of how her calls come at odd times (almost never when he’s with Kim Dokja) and nothing else. 

 

  He was going to tell him about her. He was.

 

  He just hadn’t found the right time yet, not exactly. Soon, he tells himself, soon.

 

  The call comes in when he is, to put it mildly, compromised, if ‘compromised’ meant one was on their knees in front of another man and sucking said man’s dick. Kim Dokja groans from above him, though it is unclear if it’s because of Yoo Joonghyuk’s mouth wrapped around him or the untimely interruption. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk sighs, and gets up to pull his cell phone from the bedside table. And without even looking at the caller ID, he swipes right, annoyed, putting the phone to his ear, “Hello?”

 

  “Oppa!”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk stills, he should have predicted it but he didn’t. Cosmic Karma must really be real and out to get him. 

 

  He tilts his head at Kim Dokja who is now watching with rapt attention and nods towards the door, walking towards it. Kim Dokja raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say a word in response.

 

  Once he’s out the door safely, he replies, “Mia? Why are you calling now?”

 

  “I had a school festival today, it was so fun but it lasted for a really long time. I’m going to sleep soon though, promise!” The tiny voice on the other side of the phone replies.

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk can feel the corners of his lips tugging upwards fondly, “How was the festival? What did you do there?”

 

  Yoo Mia replies to this question enthusiastically, rambling on about everything she has done, all the activities she has tried, and all the food she has eaten. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk nods along in conversation though she is unable to see it, making exclamations at the appropriate intervals and asking her questions.

 

  “Mia, it’s late already, you should go to sleep now,” he states with a tone of finality.

 

  “ Oppa ,” Mia drags out the word, and Yoo Joonghyuk can almost see the pout on her face, but she acquiesces, “Good night, Oppa, you should go to sleep soon too.”

 

  “Okay,” he replies and ends the call.

 

  “Who was that?” A voice from behind him calls out. When he turns around, he sees Kim Dokja there, backlit, face shadowed, but Yoo Joonghyuk notices the look on his face immediately anyways. 

 

  “...My sister.”

 

  There’s a pause, then “You never told me about her.” A statement.

 

  “I didn’t,” Yoo Joonghyuk replies. Another statement. 

 

  “Would you have liked me too?” Yoo Joonghyuk says, his gaze fixed on Kim Dokja.

 

  “You guys seem close,” Kim Dokja replies in lieu of a proper answer. Yoo Joonghyuk’s eye twitches, he’s being evasive again.

 

  “We are.”

 

  “Unlike us, huh? Seeing as you wouldn’t tell me about her,” Kim Dokja cuts in almost scathingly, then blinks, seemingly shocked by his own aggressiveness. 

 

  “You don’t tell me about anything, why must I tell you about everything?” Yoo Joonghyuk replies and regrets it almost instantly because Kim Dokja flinches. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t mean that, he doesn’t mean it at all. But Kim Dokja doesn’t know that and the heavy silence between them only serves to exacerbate the situation. Yoo Joonghyuk knows he must do something to salvage this mess, this hole he dug himself into, so he does something almost unthinkable to him, and he apologises. 

 

  “I didn’t mean it,” he starts, “I’m sorry.”

 

  Kim Dokja is silent, seemingly contemplative, then he says, “Don’t worry about it, Joonghyuk-ah. The great and magnanimous me will forgive you this time.” 

 

  So Kim Dokja says, but his face tells a different story completely, his hands balled up so tightly into fists that Yoo Joonghyuk can see veins straining under his skin.  

  

  Yoo Joonghyuk knows, he has long trained himself to try to spot the cracks in Kim Dokja’s facade, where his armour fails him, but he can’t force out another apology. 

 

  The language of apologies is foreign.

 

  Maybe another day, in another world, he thinks to himself. 

✶

Kim Dokja

 

  Let it be known that Kim Dokja is a petty, petty man. He doesn’t forgive nor forgets easily, and Yoo Joonghyuk has landed himself firmly on Kim Dokja’s shitlist. 

 

  He was planning on telling Yoo Joonghyuk more, he had felt that the gap between them was narrowing but perhaps he was the only one feeling so. It’s a precarious position that Kim Dokja has placed himself in and he’s once again reminded of where he stands in Yoo Joonghyuk’s life.

 

  Perhaps he was the only one who had felt that he could trust the other.

 

  Either way, it didn’t matter now because Kim Dokja had decided he was not divulging further information about himself either. Since Yoo Joonghyuk wanted to play it that way.

  What he doesn’t anticipate are Yoo Joonghyuk’s next actions. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk doubles back by putting in more effort in whatever relationship they have than Kim Dokja had thought was possible for the standoffish bastard.

  It’s a blazing warm afternoon when Yoo Joonghyuk and Kim Dokja walk into the bookstore. The cool air blasting out from above is a god-sent to Kim Dokja, his skin fair tackier than he would like. Yoo Joonghyuk on the other hand, stands stock-still, a single trickle of sweat trailing down his forehead, looking like he just stepped off the cover of the next Vogue magazine. 

 

  Kim Dokja grumbles to himself, and Yoo Joonghyuk by extension, “Stupid protagonist halo.”

 

 Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t even bother to deign him with a reply, rolling his eyes and stalking towards an oversized and overstuffed chair in the middle of the room. 

 

  The web novel he’s been following lately has just been published and Kim Dokja is itching to get his hands on the volume that has been sold out everywhere. Look, he doesn’t need a physical copy of a book he could read online for free, but, well. 

 

  It is shockingly humiliating to acknowledge that he’s buying the novels for the Early Bird benefits, of which contains a print of a protagonist that looks startlingly like Yoo Joonghyuk. It’s so terrible that Kim Dokja cannot even deny it as he stares into the eyes of postcard-Joonghyuk. 

 

  He plucks up the book (and postcard) anyways and heads to the cashier.

 

  As he lays the book down carefully on the counter a shadow creeps upon him from behind. Kim Dokja decides to make the executive decision to ignore the man breathing down his neck. 

 

  “Kim Dokja,” he says as Kim Dokja pulls out his wallet.

 

  “What.” Kim Dokja states as he turns around to stare at Yoo Joonghyuk’s impassive face.

 

  “Let me pay for you,” he states, unflinchingly.

 

  “It’s fine, I have money,” Kim Dokja replies, turning back around.

 

  “No,” he hears, “I’m paying.”

 

  Kim Dokja is starting to get annoyed, but he brushes it off. 

 

  “Here,” he says to the unwitting cashier who has to witness all of this with a smile. A hand wraps around his wrist, stopping it in its path. 

 

  “Look, I don’t need your help.”

 

  When he says help, what he really means is charity.

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk, who had apparently grown tired of Kim Dokja ignoring him, decided to take matters into his own hands, hands which are very tightly encircling Kim Dokja’s. Yoo Joonghyuk pulls out his card to pass to the poor cashier who looks terribly annoyed but is forcing themselves to smile. 

 

  The cashier beams at the two of them while shoving the book in a bag, all but shoving them out the door “Will that be all, sirs?” 

 

  The walk back to Yoo Joonghyuk’s dorm is quiet, tension fetid in the air. It’s unbearable and unthinkable, this attitude of Yoo Joonghyuk’s. Sometimes Kim Dokja dislikes him so much for it, his obstinate nature, as if things will always go his way, as they have undoubtedly had for most of his life. It’s a strong emotion to feel for someone he has some semblance of a romantic relationship with. 

 

  Then Kim Dokja smacks himself again, in his mind, and reminds himself that he knows nothing about Yoo Joonghyuk. 

 

  He can’t make generalisations and assumptions like this, he repeats to himself. 

 

  Kim Dokja is a terrible person, he knows this clearly. He knows many things about himself, none of which are in any way a part of the person he wishes he was, that he could be. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk breaks the silence first when they step into the room, and Kim Dokja drops the book on the desk beside Yoo Joonghyuk’s bed. 

 

  “I didn’t mean it,” he says, eyes boring into Kim Dokja.

 

  “Didn’t mean what? You didn’t mean to do that ? You clearly did!” Kim Dokja can only grit out, furious. 

 

  Kim Dokja doesn’t stop there, “I am perfectly capable of buying a book myself. I do, in fact, have the financial capabilities to do it.” He pauses, “What do you want from me?”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk, who has remained stubbornly silent the entire time decides to interject, “I don’t want anything in return.”

 

  “What? You expect me to believe that?” Kim Dokja snarks back, then stills for a bit, softening his voice.

 

   “Is that what this is? Your form of apology?” Kim Dokja continues, “I don’t want it. I don’t.”

 

  “Kim Dokja!” Yoo Joonghyuk roars out, shocking him. His eyebrows are scrunched together tightly, and his lips, usually set in a straight line were now twisted downwards. 

 

  “That’s not what it is,” Yoo Joonghyuk utters, each syllable dragged out slow, engulfed in rage. 

 

    “Then what is it?” Kim Dokja says, his voice now edging on hysterical, because what does this bastard want from him? Forgiveness? What does Yoo Joonghyuk want?

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk stills for a moment, awkward, and almost contemplative. Ironic, considering the guy had probably never formulated a proper thought in his mind until now. Yoo Joonghyuk is hesitant, opening his mouth and then shutting it again. 

 

  “Spit it out already!” Kim Dokja didn’t want this, he doesn’t want this. He doesn’t like where they are, or what they are doing.

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down and then he states, “I wanted to do something nice for my boyfriend.”

 

  Oh.

 

  Oh .

 

  Kim Dokja is spluttering at this point, “What.”

 

  And Yoo Joonghyuk has the audacity to look bashful. It really should not be as cute as it is, but seeing the six-feet tall, extremely muscular guy with his ears tinted red while he looks at you with what is probably the Yoo Joonghyuk-equivalent of puppy-dog eyes is soul-crushing. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk is so cute , and Kim Dokja can feel his face flushing with either embarrassment or endearment, most likely both. 

 

  Then he’s hit with the horrifying realisation of how much he fucked up. 

 

  His hands tremble with something he cannot place, and he brings his palms up to his face. He is stuck with the mortifying realisation that he wants this to work. Kim Dokja is ruining this with how he’s acting like a complete idiot.

 

  He needs to salvage this, he thinks as he reaches up to cup Yoo Joonghyuk’s face in his palms. He can feel his cheeks heating up, tingling from the warmth. 

 

  He looks into Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes, and then, Kim Dokja presses his lips against Yoo Joonghyuk’s. 

 

  It’s a paltry apology at best, but Kim Dokja hopes, he prays, that he can convey his feelings through skin. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk merely presses his lips back against Kim Dokja’s.

  In the blink of an eye, clothes get pulled off skin and end up in a heap on the floor, unnecessary and thus, discarded. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips find Kim Dokja’s again, warm in contrast to the chilly air now gracing their bare skin. Kim Dokja presses his fingers harder into Yoo Joonghyuk’s hips, his nails digging into soft skin. Kim Dokja wonders briefly if he would bruise.

 

  Kim Dokja wants him to bruise. 

 

  He makes his slow descent down Yoo Joonghyuk’s body, one inch at a time, dragging his lips purposefully and tortuously slow downwards. He starts from Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips first, then moves down to nip at his jaw. Then he makes his way to his favourite part of Yoo Joonghyuk, his neck, the long tanned expanse of skin, unmarked and unblemished. 

 

  Kim Dokja is about to change that. 

 

  “Kim Dokja.” A voice breaks into his thoughts, brash and annoyed, a warning. 

 

  “Yes?” He replies, tilting his head upwards to grin at the man above him. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk merely glares in return. 

 

  Then, he shoots an arm out and presses Kim Dokja against the wall, where he lands with a heavy thud. Kim Dokja wonders fleetingly, how thin the walls of college dorms are and how they should have brought this to his apartment instead. Next time, he promises Yoo Joonghyuk in his mind. 

 

  “What about your neighbours?” Kim Dokja wonders aloud, then yelps as Yoo Joonghyuk bites down on the conjecture between his neck and his collarbones. When Yoo Joonghyuk shoots him a smug look, he can only pinch the other’s nipple in retaliation, grinning.

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk starts to make his way down Kim Dokja’s body, leaving a trail of bite marks and bruises like an animal. He approaches Kim Dokja’s nipples with an evaluating gaze that makes Kim Dokja squirm, tightening his grip on Yoo Joonghyuk’s hair. Then, Yoo Joonghyuk bites down, lips clasping around the brown nubs, teeth digging into skin. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk hums against his skin, the vibrations sending shockwaves throughout his body, but mainly to his dick. He drags his lips down, faster than before, seemingly fed up with foreplay.

 

  “I’m sorry, you know?” Kim Dokja says instead of letting a whimper out his throat, his hand still twisted into Yoo Joonghyuk’s dark locks. Sometimes, Kim Dokja marvels at his own ability to say the most inappropriate things at any moment in time, a true skill, really. One he’s honed from years of internally interjecting during arguments wherein he was completely uninvolved. 

 

  “My mouth is on your dick,” Yoo Joonghyuk says in lieu of a response. And if Kim Dokja truly knows this man as well as he would like to think he does, he would take it as an acceptance of his apology. 

 

  Kim Dokja thinks he’s starting to understand Yoo Joonghyuk a bit better when he beams back at the man below him and says, “Well, what are you doing? Get on with it.”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk does indeed get on with it , taking Kim Dokja into his mouth immediately, lips swollen and red from before. Yoo Joonghyuk suckles at the tip, eliciting a moan from him, as his eyelids flutter shut. He’s hot and wet and perfect around him. 

 

  There’s a line of drool that’s slowly dripping out of Yoo Joonghyuk’s mouth, that seems to be calling to him, glinting in the shallow light. He reaches down to swipe it off, and murmurs, “You are so good for me, Hyukie. Can I call you that? Hyukie?”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk swallows down even more of his cock in response, staring up at him, lips shiny with spit, eyes glazed over but still dark. He tightens his mouth around Kim Dokja, taking him down his throat, and Kim Dokja moans a low, heady sound. 

 

  “Fuck, fuck,” he says, as he feels the coil in his gut tightening, the muscles in his stomach clenching almost painfully. “I’m going to cum—I’m going to—” He proclaims as he shuts his eyes so hard he can only see stars, and a wave of pleasure overcomes his body, leaving him shuddering as he shoots hot bursts of cum down Yoo Joonghyuk’s throat. 

 

 He pauses for a moment, blinking away the white behind his eyes, and squints down where Yoo Joonghyuk has slipped off his dick and is now touching his own. He reaches blindly downwards, bending down to join Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand around his cock. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk’s dick is large and warm in his hand, the tip already angry and leaking, when Kim Dokja wraps his fingers around it, smearing it. He pants shallowly, too fucked-out too process anything other than the warmth in his hand and Yoo Joonghyuk’s face on the other end, gleaming with a sheen of sweat. 

 

  Then Yoo Joonghyuk turns his gaze on him, eyebrows furrowed in that ridiculously endearing way that Kim Dokja used to take as straight-up annoyance, and says, “Dokja.”

 

  Kim Dokja raises his eyebrows blearily in response, confused and preoccupied with the dripping dick in his hand. He pulls a few more times, joining Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand, linking their fingers together as they rub up and down his length. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk comes with a shout, groaning, with his cheeks flushed, pink in sharp contrast to his skin. 

 

  Kim Dokja doesn’t realise until much later that that is the first time Yoo Joonghyuk’s ever called him Dokja. 

✶

  Kim Dokja makes it months before he breaks and gives in to Han Sooyoung’s recent persistent attempts to get him to hang out. He is unsure why she is under the impression they should be friends now that they are both dating someone. There is some twisted logic only Han Sooyoung could conceive there.

 

  Actually, what is far more insane to him is the fact that anyone would willingly date Han Sooyoung. 

 

  Perhaps what is most bewildering of all, is that Yoo Sangah, Han Sooyoung’s girlfriend, is lovely. In fact, she’s famed for being one of the prettiest girls on campus.

 

  Kim Dokja has met Yoo Sangah briefly, has worked together with her on a few projects, and heard enough about her in passing to know exactly how nice of a person she truly is. She’s calm and caring, and had even tried that one time to invite Kim Dokja to a gathering with a few other people in their shared class. 

 

  An invitation that Kim Dokja turned down, for obvious reasons.  

 

  The point is, Yoo Sangah is an angel that descended from the heavens to bless the poor mortals here on earth and Han Sooyoung is most likely the reincarnation of Satan. On this, Kim Dokja is certain. 

 

  Yet, here he is, sitting at some new hipster-esque coffee place that recently opened near campus. Kim Dokja is almost certain it will close down and be replaced within the next five years, because that’s just how things are. He sits at his seat, with his cup of matcha latte, waiting for Han Sooyoung to arrive to the meeting she invited him to. 

 

  She’s late, as always. 

 

  He stares at her approaching profile impassively, as she grins and waves manically at him in return. He notes that she has her laptop in her hand, and Kim Dokja is quite confident she just came back from her creative writing class with Yoo Joonghyuk. 

 

  Or Joonghyuk because he can call him that now, sometimes, as his boyfriend. The thought makes Kim Dokja far giddier than he will ever admit. 

 

  Han Sooyoung slips into her seat, and says immediately, “You didn’t order me a drink? Rude.”

 

  “Buy your own drink, I’m broke,” Kim Dokja replies easily, raising his eyebrows at her.

 

  “Where are your manners? I’m broke too, you know? College student, aspiring writer, that kind of thing,” Han Sooyoung says as she gestures vaguely at the table.

 

  “ You invited me here though?”

 

  “Well, you clearly have no friends and I’m taking pity on you,” Han Sooyoung shrugs. Kim Dokja squints a little at that, but pauses for a moment for coming up with a proper comeback because, as sad as it is, it’s true.

 

  “Neither do you?” Kim Dokja shoots back, “Have friends?” 

 

  “You don’t know anything about me though, Kim Dokja?” Han Sooyoung remarks, almost off-handedly, and Kim Dokja realises that right, he doesn't know anything about her at all.

 

  “I know enough about you,” he says instead.

 

  “You absolutely do not,” Han Sooyoung retorts, rolling her eyes.

 

  “Well, then why have I never seen you with anyone other than Yoo Sangah? I guess she’s your friend but now she’s your girlfriend.”

 

  “Are you implying that she’s no longer my friend?” 

 

  Kim Dokja shrugs, “It’s just different.”

 

  Han Sooyoung hums wonderingly, “That’s just what society is telling you, don’t fall for it.”

 

  Kim Dokja takes a sip out of his matcha latte, and closes his eyes, “Wow, truly inspiring, Han Sooyoung-nim. Impart me more of your divine knowledge.”

 

  “You are so ungrateful, no appreciation for my advice at all,” Han Sooyoung replies, shaking her head but Kim Dokja can see the grin on her face as clear as day.

 

  The grin on Han Sooyoung’s face holds a very compelling force, which is the only viable explanation to why Kim Dokja is smiling back, enjoying himself.

 

  Han Sooyoung, being Han Sooyoung, can never deviate from her character because within the next minute she says something that shatters the moment. 

 

  “Sooo, Yoo Joonghyuk,” she says as she leans forward. Kim Dokja sighs inwardly though it must show on his face because Han Sooyoung’s grin turns wicked.

 

  “What about him?” Kim Dokja says warily, knowing far too well how good the other is at teasing out confidential information. Mostly from the sheer force of being terribly annoying.

 

  “Well, you guys are dating aren’t you?” Han Sooyoung states factually, as if it’s a universal truth. A statement that makes Kim Dokja go warm all over, fuzzy at the edges.

 

  Han Sooyoung smirks at him knowingly, and he resists the extremely strong urge to smack her.

 

  “Yes, we are.” His tone leaves no room for questions.

 

  Of course, Han Sooyoung purposefully doesn’t pick up on the enormously unsubtle hint he is dropping.

 

  Instead, she says, “What is he like, as a boyfriend? I mean, he’s literally like a rock, a hot one maybe, but he has the personality and social skills of a rock.”

 

  …She’s not wrong , in a sense. But she definitely isn’t right either. 

 

  Kim Dokja debates mentally with himself if he should dunk on his boyfriend with Han Sooyoung or defend his honor as he should. He decides that he’s going to have the best of both worlds.

 

  He says, “I’m telling him you said that, by the way. He’s not that bad, really.”

 

  She raises an eyebrow in disbelief, “Yoo Joonghyuk. That guy. The one who I’ve seen with a grand total of two expressions on his face. That guy.”

 

  Kim Dokja huffs in exasperation, he’s mildly offended for his boyfriend now, as someone who knows that isn’t true.

 

  “You just have never seen him in other places outside of class, you know he hates the Creative Writing class.”

 

  The expression on Han Sooyoung’s face spells evident distrust, and he wants to roll his eyes again but at this point, it seems more likely that his eyes would roll right out of their sockets.

 

  She squints really hard at him for a second, then breathes out, “Huh, you really like him, don’t you?”

 

  Kim Dokja doesn’t reply to that statement, choosing instead to make a jab at her instead, “So, Yoo Sangah?” He says in a poor mockery of Han Sooyoung’s exact posture minutes before.

 

  Han Sooyoung fucking blushes.

 

  Kim Dokja can feel his eyes bugging out of his head.

 

  It’s an inane little statement when he thinks about it, but if it elicits this sort of reaction…well. Kim Dokja grins, his lips curving up into a sharp smile.

 

  “Wow,” he tacks on, and then just to be a little shit, “You must really like her.”

 

 The red of Han Sooyoung’s face is slowly subsiding but it’s definitely still there when “Says the one looking at the world through crazily rose-tinted glasses.”

 

  Kim Dokja merely scoffs in reply, “My boyfriend is adorable, you simply don’t understand.” 

 

  The sentence itself sounds a little ridiculous out loud, but Kim Dokja stands by it. Don’t kill the part of you that’s cringe, kill the part that cringes or however the saying goes.

 

  Han Sooyoung raises her eyebrows so high that Kim Dokja feels mildly offended. 

 

  “Right…So today I learnt that Kim Dokja is insane,” Han Sooyoung says so loud that multiple people look over at them, glaring.

 

  Han Sooyoung laughs, leaning back into her chair, eyes dancing in amusement. Truly shameless.

 

  Kim Dokja watches as she wipes the tears from her eyes, still grinning even when she straightens up and looks him in the eye.

 

  “Hey, so, I’m working on a novel right now and I need a beta reader,” she says, serious. The implication is clear.

 

  The question gives him pause, as he looks searchingly into Han Sooyoung’s face for any sign of a joke. He has never been particularly close to Han Sooyoung nor has she ever been to him. Why would she ask him? 

 

  He repeats this question to the woman sitting in front of him. 

 

  “Why not ask Yoo Sangah-ssi? I’m sure she would be more than willing to help,” Kim Dokja says.

 

  “Sangah isn’t into the kind of genre I’m writing, she wouldn’t be able to give me proper feedback. I’m not saying she wouldn’t be good either way, she’s amazing, but I know you love this whole, OP protagonist thing, so,” she replies, puncuating the statement with a shrug. 

 

  “You’re writing a webnovel?” Is the only thing that Kim Dokja blurts out in reply.

 

  “Do not compare my work to the garbage you read, I’m clearly far better than that!” Han Sooyoung starts, but then she pauses, “Ok, maybe something like that but I’m a far better author than any of those other noobs.”

 

  Kim Dokja can’t deny that, Han Sooyoung is a brilliant writer more often than not. He can verify this, he’s read some of her works and perhaps, she could bring something completely new to the table. 

 

  “Hmmm, is this a paid job?” Kim Dokja says, grinning.

 

  “Wh—Of course not! You should be glad I chose you to read what is maybe my magnum opus,” Han Sooyoung declares grandly, gesturing to emphasise her project’s magnificence. 

 

  “Shouldn’t you be grateful for me instead? I’m offering my free time to help you!” Kim Dokja replies, mockingly offended. In actual fact, he is far more curious now than ever about this story that Han Sooyoung is so proud of, he’s itching to read it.

 

  “Look, I’ll let you read my first chapter, as a treat, as my exclusive beta reader,” Han Sooyoung says, unbothered, completely ignoring his protests. 

 

  Han Sooyoung pulls out the document on her laptop, and shoves it in Kim Dokja’s face. Kim Dokja pushes her hands off the screen and gives her the finger but starts scrolling dutifully anyways.

 

  The noise of the cafe fades into white noise. 

 

  He starts reading. 

 

  The silence between the two of them stretches, when Kim Dokja cuts it off and looks up at Han Sooyoung. 

 

  It’s brilliant and Han Sooyoung knows that too.

 

  The chapter is short but it sucks the reader in, the descriptions vivid and the main character, above all, is striking. Furthermore, from what Kim Dokja can see from the summary, a succinct but intriguing description designed to lure the reader in, Kim Dokja knows it’s going to be a hit. 

 

  And above all else, he can tell that this is a story to read to its end. 

 

  Kim Dokja asks, “What’s the title?”

 

  Han Sooyoung smiles, “Three Ways to Survive in a Ruined World.”

✶

  Everything is perfect, and if not perfect, far better than Kim Dokja could have ever dreamt for himself a year ago. His grades are on the rise, and he was just offered a spot on the dean’s list for the next semester. He’s faring similarly well careerwise, Three Ways to Survive in a Ruined World shooting up the charts to number one on the Kakao web novel page. Han Sooyoung, though stingy and an unforgiving boss, has started to pay him bits from her enormous paycheck coming in now monthly. He’s even got a few offers to help edit other novels, not the most lucrative job but it pays well enough. 

 

  He’s even made enough to quit his bartending job (a fact he occasionally bemoans when he thinks about how he can no longer raid the bar for free alcohol).

 

  He finally can pay his long overdue rent for his off-campus apartment that he refuses to move out of despite the far higher cost, with no worries at all. 

 

  There are many things he does not expect for himself, nor did he ever think he would want, one of those things is Han Sooyoung’s presence in his life. He texts her daily now without fail, they meet up regularly at each other’s homes . Friendship is fun, actually, is an epiphany Kim Dokja has one day. 

 

  For the first time in his life, Kim Dokja doesn’t feel permanently exhausted 

 

  Life is good .

 

  Then Yoo Joonghyuk says it. 

 

  They’ve been dancing around it, the topic unspoken and forbidden. Both of them know, clearly, that they would have to discuss it one day, the natural result of the steady progression of their relationship. 

  

  But Kim Dokja is scared. He always is and he always will be.

 

  They’ve been building up to this for weeks and Kim Dokja knows, deep in his bones, that it’s coming. Kim Dokja is stuck in a pot at simmer knowing full well that if the heat is turned on just a bit higher, he’s going to be cooked alive.

 

  He isn’t surprised when Yoo Joonghyuk says “I love you” over dinner on their weekly date, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready for it. 

 

  He doesn’t process the words at first, nodding in agreement blankly, then, he freezes. Kim Dokja’s eyes widen, as he blinks rapidly from shock, though he shouldn’t be shocked at all. A chill settles into his heart, as he stares at Yoo Joonghyuk, dumbstruck. 

 

  Then he smiles, and laughs, “No you don’t.”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk merely stares back at him, impassive, his gaze flinty. Is it just Kim Dokja or did the temperature of the room just drop several degrees? 

 

  “Yes, I do,” Yoo Joonghyuk replies simply as if he’s merely talking about the weather. Kim Dokja lets out a hysterical laugh, leave it to Yoo Joonghyuk to make a love confession so properly dry. 

 

  What is the proper response in this scenario? What should he say in return to a man laying out his soul bare for someone like Kim Dokja? 

 

  The most obvious conclusion is to reply that he loves Yoo Joonghyuk back. It’s the first thing that comes to mind and the simplest answer. But he can’t bring himself to say it because it isn’t true.

 

  He doesn’t want to lie. He won’t lie. 

 

  Not to Yoo Joonghyuk who’s still watching him across the table, most definitely reading the conflicting emotions fly across his face.

 

  Occasionally, Kim Dokja finds that the most simple of things are often deceptively complex.

 

  Kim Dokja steels himself. 

 

  Then, he says, “Ok? No, I mean—Ok. Fuck.”

 

  “It’s fine if you can’t say it back, this is a lot. Fuck, I didn’t mean to force this on you, I—I just wanted you to know.”

 

  “I’ll wait for you, I can wait,” Yoo Joonghyuk says, distressingly sincere, even though his face barely changes. Kim Dokja can see the slight widening of his eyes, the tension in the curve of his lips, and he knows, how frustrating that he cannot return his love.

 

  After all, Kim Dokja is incapable of love. 

 

  He knows enough of how it should feel like in theory, an explosion of emotion so unbearably strong and frenzied, a want that transcends words. He’s read about it before, in books and stories alike, seen it on screen, the warmth that lingers between fingers and lips, a softness that cannot be emulated by any other emotion. 

 

  Love is inexorable, the sweep of a wave of a tsunami. Love is large but nebulous, an ideal that Kim Dokja dreams of, to assure himself of. 

 

  He is human and he can love. 

 

  Here’s the thing, Kim Dokja knows of love but he’s never known love, not really, not ever in a way he can remember. In childhood, he had watched his parents, the two people above all else supposed to love him and each other, and felt nothing as he watched them inflict pain on each other endlessly. He remembers, with startling clarity, his experiences in school, the quiet freak, lonesome and morose. 

 

  Supposedly, your teenage years are supposed to be some of the best years of your life, Kim Dokja heard. He recalls none of that. Often, he therorises, it’s possible that his love map was developed during these formative years and he simply cannot truly conceptualise love. It’s also possible that he’ll meet someone one day who he can feel love for, maybe. 

 

  The issue here isn’t that he doesn’t want to love Yoo Joonghyuk, he wants to, desperately. Who wouldn’t want to love someone who loves you back? 

 

  The issue here is that he doesn’t know how to do it. 

 

  As he studies Yoo Joonghyuk’s face silently, Kim Dokja thinks to himself, this is a man I could love someday. 

 

  What he doesn’t acknowledge, and refuses to, is the part of his brain that whispers at him, this is the man you do not. 

✶

  Love isn’t linear nor intrinsic for Kim Dokja, but he’ll be damned if he didn’t try. 

 

  Loving someone is much easier said than done, he finds, contrary to the idea perpetuated by popular fiction. Well, no popular fiction has ever taught him how to love. 

 

  Reading about someone falling in love with another while falling for them is an experience that doesn’t translate well to real life. Real life does not have time skips, long lengthy pages for paragraphs of yearning which in the character seemingly ignores any real life responsibilities for however long they wish, simply to pine. 

 

  Kim Dokja is not a character. 

 

  Thus, he has to go about his life, as usual, attending his classes, editing novels to make ends meet, and spending time regularly with the people in his life. Time does not stop for Kim Dokja’s struggles and the world continues to turn. 

 

  Kim Dokja does not stop trying, because, above all, he wants to be that person for Yoo Joonghyuk, someone who can return his feelings. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk is as steadfast as always, plowing forward toward something bigger. 

 

  So, Kim Dokja tries, he tries in the small actions, replicating the intimate domesticity only seen on screen, he attempts to cook (and fails horribly). He makes the effort, reaching out in a way he never has, he takes Yoo Joonghyuk’s homecooked meals, packed neatly, and returns them completely empty and clean, reveling in the way Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes light up in satisfaction of a job well done. He tries to take care of Yoo Joonghyuk and allows Yoo Joonghyuk to take care of him equally in return, and he prays for the jolt of realisation of love. 

✶

Yoo Joonghyuk

    

   This is it, Yoo Joonghyuk thinks as he walks up to the door of Kim Dokja’s apartment, clutching onto the two cups of coffee he’d bought for him and Kim Dokja from the cafe down the street. 

 

  He looks down at himself, vague self-consciously, an uncommon gesture for him but today is an important day. He has to look good. 

 

  The worn gray concrete of the door had never looked so imposing before as it loomed in front of him. Yoo Joonghyuk stares at the knob, blankly, reaching out to turn it before he realises that  both of his hands are full. 

 

  So he stands there, waiting at the door, silently. 

 

  Is it fear or is it anticipation? Whatever it is keeps Yoo Joonghyuk rooted to that very spot, unmoving. He thinks Kim Dokja loves him, despite what the other says, insisting he doesn’t want to disappoint. He thinks so because he feels it and he knows.

 

  And as if sensing Yoo Joonghyuk’s presence at his door, Kim Dokja pushes it open and says, “What are you standing out there for? It’s so cold today!” He pulls on Yoo Joonghyuk’s arms, pulling him in, smilingly. 

 

  “You got me a drink!” Kim Dokja cheers, as he pulls the cup out of Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand and takes a sip, eyes turning into crescents as he grins. 

 

  “Mn,” Yoo Joonghyuk hums, placing his own cup down on the small coffee table. 

 

  “Oh, right, I wanted to tell you that Han Sooyoung came over again just now,” Yoo Joonghyuk’s face scrunches up in annoyance at this, “So that’s why the place is a mess right now, ignore it.”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk promptly does not ignore it and starts picking up the random trash and items scattered around the small apartment, and when he says random he means it. There’s a lego figure that looks suspiciously like Yoo Joonghyuk dressed up in a black cape that Yoo Joonghyuk is almost certain came from the Batman figurine which has had its torso completely removed. This is all stuffed into some sort of shoebox diorama made out of a pizza box that has been crushed for reasons far beyond him. 

 

  He gently picks up a small notebook strewn on the ground between his fingers and flings it in Kim Dokja’s direction once he sees Han Sooyoung’s name on it.

 

  “Hey!” Kim Dokja calls out from the other side of the room, before flinging something that hits Yoo Joonghyuk square in the face. 

 

  As Yoo Joonghyuk peels the offending item off his face to inspect it, he realises with horror, that it’s a bra.

 

  “Kim Dokja,” he says, tone warning, trying his level best to keep his eyes away from what is undoubtedly Han Sooyoung’s undergarments. Kim Dokja, on the other hand, is propped up behind the couch, wheezing hysterically.

 

  “You—Your face!” Kim Dokja chokes out between laughs, “Ah, Sooyoung—Sooyoung left that here just now.”

 

  “Why is her bra in your living room,” Yoo Joonghyuk states, heat already rushing up to his cheeks, as he tosses the offending garment to the ground ungraciously. 

 

  Kim Dokja barely manages to squeeze out, “She—she spilled her drink on her shirt just now and it seeped into her bra too. Fuck, she decided—yeah, that she should just take it all off since I could lend her a hoodie anyways. Looks like she forgot about it through when she rushed back to change.” 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk wants this so bad, he wants Kim Dokja’s everything, everywhere so immensely, even his stupid messes, and his terrible sense of humour so fucking bad. Yoo Joonghyuk has never been one to care about what society dictates is the appropriate action to take in any given situation, he simply does as he sees fit. 

 

  So he says, “Kim Dokja, will you move in with me?” 

 

  The silence that follows is mind-numbingly terrifying. 

 

  Kim Dokja stands, stock-still and shell-shocked, eyes wide like saucers for a second before the expression is wiped off his face to something blank and calculated. His hands have moved from where they were covering his face while laughing to hanging limply at his sides, Yoo Joonghyuk observes blandly. 

 

  He stands and waits, meeting Kim Dokja’s eyes for an answer. 

 

  They aren’t moving too fast, Yoo Joonghyuk is quite sure about this but the look on Kim Dokja’s face begs to differ. 

 

  Kim Dokja’s face has fully clammed up now, expression morphing into something almost unreadable if not for the twitch in his cheek and the tension in his muscles. Yoo Joonghyuk wonders if he’s read this all wrong. 

 

  He knows the answer before Kim Dokja says it, the chafing syllable of a single word, “No.”

 

  “We don’t even have a proper place—you can’t live here, there’s no space. Neither does your dorm,” Kim Dokja adds on, and hope wells up in Yoo Joonghyuk’s chest.

 

  “We can just get a new place, I already found one, we can afford it,” Yoo Joonghyuk says, hands curling up into fists, nails digging into flesh.

 

  “I—I can’t.”

 

  “Why not?” Yoo Joonghyuk asks, gaze still on Kim Dokja, unflinching.

 

  “I just can’t, okay? I just can’t!” Kim Dokja cries, his eyes reddening. 

 

  Kim Dokja doesn’t stop there, no, he crushes any and all hope Yoo Joonghyuk has completely, “I’m not doing this anymore, I can’t do this anymore. I’m done.”

 

  “What the fuck do you mean by that. Kim Dokja!” Yoo Joonghyuk all but screams, his hand extending instinctively toward the other man, fingers wrapping around his wrist. “If you don’t want to move in with me, I’m okay. But don’t you dare break up with me over this, what even is this?” 

 

  Kim Dokja stares at him blearily through hooded eyes, tears caught between his eyelashes like crystal dew, and he smiles that unlucky smile.

 

  “You know, that’s the first time, I’ve heard you talk that much in such a short period of time,” he says, conversationally, as if they aren’t in the middle of something Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t want to call a fight. Accepting this as a fight means he’s going to lose, he already knows this because this is a lose-lose scenario, there are no real victories in a war. 

 

  Kim Dokja shoves Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand off his wrist, and pulls away, “We’re done.” 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk stumbles back, stupefied. He opens his mouth again, and words fail him yet again, as they always have. Words are tricky, fickle things.

 

  Then Kim Dokja slips out the door of the apartment and slams the door shut. 

 

  The resounding bang sounds vaguely like a gunshot to the heart. 

✶

Kim Dokja

 

  Kim Dokja runs because it’s the only thing he’s ever known how to do. 

 

  He runs as far as he can from his own apartment, and by extension, Yoo Joonghyuk. He’s not exactly the most athletic of individuals but he runs non-stop, till his lungs burn with exhaustion and his breathing gets too laboured for him to even move another step. 

 

  Kim Dokja is so, so, so fucking terrified. 

 

  He bends down to catch his breath, only to wince as he realises he has stitches. 

 

  As he takes in a breath of fresh air, he concludes that he’s running purely on adrenaline at this point (or maybe fear) because he is not built for this at all. 

 

  Another revelation strikes hit at the same moment, that the uncomfortable tightening feeling in his chest that he hadn’t been able to put a name to for weeks is gone. Yet, Kim Dokja can’t even celebrate this small victory because there’s something burning there now, flames licking the walls of his chest cavity, burning him from the inside out. The burning feels far too much like drowning somehow. 

 

  Somehow, he ends up at the door of Han Sooyoung’s apartment. That’s where he slumps down onto the floor gracelessly, hair matted to his forehead, head pounding as he closes his eyes.

 

  That’s how Han Sooyoung finds him, a few minutes later when she opens the door, dressed like she’s going on a date. She is, of course, Kim Dokja recalls, she mentioned it earlier.

 

  His head falls back the moment the door swings open, nearly slamming him against the wall when Han Sooyoung looks down and sees Kim Dokja collapsed in a heap on the floor. 

 

  “What the fuck,” are the first words that come out of her mouth as she stares at Kim Dokja’s despondent body. 

 

  Kim Dokja manages to garner just enough energy to look up at her and ask, “Could I stay here for a bit?”

 

  Han Sooyoung turns back into the room and for a split second Kim Dokja thinks she’s going to abandon him there, on the cold hard concrete when she returns, only to throw a towel in his face. 

 

  Han Sooyoung lets out a long-suffering sigh, as she pulls out her phone, “Wipe yourself clean at least if I’m canceling my date with Sangah for your dirty ass.”

 

  She pauses, then continues, “You can tell me why you are crying later.”

 

  Oh. He hadn’t even noticed the damp stream of tears running down his cheeks, mixed in with his sweat, dripping down slowly.

 

  He closes his eyes and lets her pull him up and into the apartment. He doesn’t move much beyond what’s required of him as he trudges to the shower and puts on far too small clothes, and lies on the couch, tired. 

 

  Kim Dokja vaguely registers Han Sooyoung’s presence, her singing in the kitchen as she whips up something to put in front of him, insisting that he eat . The first thing that comes to mind when he puts the spoon into his mouth is that the food doesn’t taste good, which isn’t fair to Han Sooyoung because she’s an acceptable cook, but she isn’t Yoo Joonghyuk . Kim Dokja has eaten food far worse than this, so he isn’t sure why he’s complaining, perhaps he had been spoilt a bit too much already. 

 

  He breaks into the middle of the omurice, scoops up the rice and egg, and puts it into his mouth. And he cries. 

 

  When Han Sooyoung sits down next to him with her own plate of omurice, she wraps an arm around him and pulls him into her. It’s slightly uncomfortable because she’s much shorter than him, his chin is digging into the top of her head and her arms can’t fit properly around him but it works. He leans more into her and cries harder. 

 

  He remains largely catatonic for the next few days, even when he is definitely overstaying his welcome in Han Sooyoung’s home. At some point, Han Sooyoung runs out of clothes he can kind of fit into, and even then, he doesn’t dare approach his apartment. 

 

  It’s ridiculous, kinda when he thinks about it, that is his apartment, with his phone, his clothes, his books, his everything but it’s become Yoo Joonghyuk’s somehow. He can’t think about anything without somehow relating it to him. 

 

  Kim Dokja didn’t realise how much of him has already been utterly consumed by Yoo Joonghyuk till he stepped back and left, leaving behind all the parts of him that are intrinsically Yoo Joonghyuk.

 

  In hindsight, Kim Dokja sees himself in the rearview, his indecisiveness, his inability to commit because he always had to settle, he never had choices and now he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Yoo Joonghyuk, for all his relentlessness, and his seemingly intransigent persona, had always given him a choice, to eat this or that, the possibility of buying this useless piece of merchandise he could never afford by himself, to love or not to love.

 

  Han Sooyoung asks him multiple times across the days he stays in her apartment, languishing on her couch, and he can’t ever seem to give her a straight answer on what exactly happened. At some point, she employs Yoo Sangah to help her with talking to Kim Dokja because in her words, “She’s better at dealing with losers than I am.”

 

  “That’s why she’s dating you,” Kim Dokja had replied and gotten whacked over the head for it. 

 

  Yoo Sangah does not fare much better in the harrowing task of getting Kim Dokja to open up and talk about his emotions and whatever normal people do nowadays. 

 

  But she’s sweet and understanding in all the ways that matter and unapologetically blunt when necessary, Kim Dokja likes her very much. However, he does like her a little less when he’s talking about how he doesn’t think he loves Yoo Joonghyuk and she cuts in and says, “I’m quite sure you love him, Dokja-ssi.”

 

  When she sees the expression on his face, she adds hurriedly, “Ah, that’s just my own opinion, you should know your feelings best, Dokja-ssi. Don’t take my words to heart.” 

 

  The statement cuts far deeper than Yoo Sangah probably meant, and Kim Dokja wonders, does he truly know his own feelings? What can Yoo Sangah see in him that he can’t see in himself?

 

  On the 6th day, he walks back to his own apartment, with a solemn air, or rather, Han Sooyoung had kicked him out for overstaying his welcome. He doesn’t mind, he’s been there for far too long anyways, and he was always the one who said that the world does not stop for anyone anyways. 

 

  He pauses at his door, with a sense of trepidation creeping onto him as he slowly turns the knob. 

 

  There’s no one in the house. 

 

  Kim Dokja doesn’t know if he’s more relieved or disappointed about it. 

 

✶

Yoo Joonghyuk

 

  When Kim Dokja slammed the door (both literally and figuratively in his face), Yoo Joonghyuk had only stood there, completely contrary to his normal self.

 

  Well, Kim Dokja had always made him out of sorts, not necessarily in a bad way, just, different. But that didn’t matter now, did it?

 

  Because Kim Dokja was gone. 

 

  After Yoo Joonghyuk had overcome his shock, he stayed at Kim Dokja’s place for 2 days, waiting, praying, that the man would miraculously come back. 

 

  Originally, he had planned to send a message to Kim Dokja, or maybe multiple, use his Find My iPhone location to track him down and pull him back here to finish the conversation. But he was more than surprised that Kim Dokja had left his phone behind in his rush to escape, ringing away along with Yoo Joonghyuk’s ringtone. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk had thought to himself that Kim Dokja had to come back, he had left the apartment with nothing, not even his much-loved phone. Yoo Joonghyuk had thought, that if nothing else, Kim Dokja would come back for his phone.

 

  He had spent 2 whole days, cooped up in that apartment, unwilling to even leave, in fear that Kim Dokja would return when he was gone and somehow, Yoo Joonghyuk would miss him again. Fate is not often so kind, he’s come to learn. 

 

  Kim Dokja’s phone remained strewn on the couch, untouched and dead.

 

  After a while, it was evident that Kim Dokja was not coming. Frankly, it was ridiculous because this was his apartment, and yet, it hurt Yoo Joonghyuk all the same. 

 

   You fool, do you truly wish to avoid me to this extent?  

 

  After over 48 arduous hours of lackadaisical pacing around the small apartment because he couldn’t rest, he couldn’t risk Kim Dokja slipping from his grasp if he had a chance, he left. 

 

  On his way out, the most inane urge overtook Yoo Joonghyuk, and he procured a scrap of paper, from the countless stacks lying around Kim Dokja’s living room and wrote ‘ Let me know if you’re back, you have my number. ’

  

  It’s a hand stretched out, a peace offering. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk does not even pause to ponder upon the implications or how it would be received as he steps out the door. It’ll all be up to Kim Dokja now. 

  Kim Dokja did not contact him.

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk had waited, he had waited, his phone practically glued to his side all the time, and he had waited. Yet, it seemed his feelings had not reached Kim Dokja. 

 

  Never once had anyone referred to Yoo Joonghyuk as a patient man, but one could not refer to his silent devotion as anything but. He had wondered to himself, quietly, in the dead of night with his eyes squeezed shut, whether he should simply let go. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk was not one for letting go.

 

  Often, he clung onto things with an unyielding defiance, as if daring the world to try to take another thing from him, as if it hadn’t taken enough. He doesn’t recall a time he had been able to simply let go. Perhaps he doesn’t have to, he thinks to himself, perhaps he could let things take their course, and maybe he should let the wheel of fate decide for him. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk is tired. 

 

  He’s running on fumes and is more than aware he can no longer keep this up, he cannot pull on a piece of thread that has split into frayed cotton, hoping if he tried hard enough, he could force it back into shape. 

 

  Sometimes, certain things are lost causes, this he is aware of. But how can he just discard everything they’ve built together, how can Kim Dokja discard everything they’ve built together?

 

  The window beside him is covered by a sheer gauzy curtain that barely does anything at all, and the bright moonlight shines into his eyes, blinding him for a moment before he opens his eyes again. The ghostly light skims the edges of his bed, forming a shadow on the floor, and in a fit of brief insanity, Yoo Joonghyuk thinks that the shadow looks suspiciously like Kim Dokja. 

 

  He’s furious, and he’s exhausted. Yoo Joonghyuk throws the nearest thing he can grab at the silhouette on the floor, watching with sick satisfaction as the shadow warps around the shattered lamp.

 

  Maybe he should force himself to move on. 

 

   Maybe he should just move on. The thought brings laughter bubbling to his lips, dry even when erupting up his throat, as tears start to fall from his eyes. Yoo Joonghyuk laughs to himself, a wry grin on his face in the dark of the room, and he laughs till he falls asleep.

✶

  It’s exactly a month before they even cross paths again. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t expect it when he’s faced with Kim Dokja at the supermarket, illuminated in the dingy yellow light, browsing through instant food. A part of Yoo Joonghyuk’s mind is disgusted by this evident lack of self-care, relegated to of all things, heavily processed foods with god knows how many preservatives. It’s disgusting. Another part of his mind whispers to him that he could make something better for Kim Dokja, but Yoo Joonghyuk ignores that part. 

 

  In his mind, Yoo Joonghyuk has already left the store, running far, far away from the unassuming man before him. In reality, he remains rooted to the squeaky linoleum floors, eyes never straying from the spot where Kim Dokja is bent down examining the expiration dates of various types of cup noodles. 

 

  The man before him is familiar, more a friend than a stranger but somehow neither. It is very hard to conceptualise what Kim Dokja is, to put his existence into words. 

 

  The truth is that Kim Dokja’s appearance is largely unchanged, other than a slight gauntness that wasn’t there before. The visage of the man before him has him unsteady, and he’s overwhelmed once again by the weight of his feelings toward the man.

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk has half the mind to storm in front of Kim Dokja and pull him up by the collar, push him up against the shelves and demand an explanation. 

 

  Suddenly, Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand slackens and the bag of tomatoes he’s holding drops down to the ground, landing with a soft thud. Ah, fuck , Yoo Joonghyuk thinks, as he sees the red pulp leaking out of the plastic bag, he’s still going to have to pay for those. 

 

  Kim Dokja’s head rises to look for the source of the noise and freezes. 

 

  His face is one of blank shock, like he can’t even be bothered to hide his expressions in front of Yoo Joonghyuk anymore. 

 

  Good, Yoo Joonghyuk thinks viciously. 

 

  Kim Dokja is clutching the cup of noodles in his hand like a lifeline, and Yoo Joonghyuk notices the slight indent he’s undoubtedly making into the packaging. His face is still pale, eyes wide as if he has just seen a ghost. His voice is shaky when he opens his mouth and asks, “What—Why are you here?”

 

  This strikes Yoo Joonghyuk as a particularly stupid question, “To buy groceries.”

 

  “No, I mean—You know what, never mind,” Kim Dokja replies, shaking his head as if suddenly struck by the realisation of the idiocy of his question. 

 

  Frankly, the question makes no sense, both of them are more than aware that this is the only supermarket within the range of both their places. It was inevitable that they meet at some point, in fact, it’s far more surprising that they haven’t before. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk says none of this, and instead, he says, “Kim Dokja.”

 

  Kim Dokja looks back at him wordlessly, waiting for him to speak.

 

  It burst out of him, embarrassingly desperate, “Why didn’t you call?”

 

  “I don’t know,” Kim Dokja replies, and has the audacity to look ashamed.

 

  “What the fuck do you mean, what do you mean you don’t know—” Yoo Joonghyuk spits out, angry, his previously thought-to-be-quelled anger bubbling up inside of him.

 

  “I left you that note there, did you even read it? Did you? Kim Dokja, you—” Yoo Joonghyuk cuts himself off before he says any more, and takes in Kim Dokja’s face, twisted in pain. 

 

  “I don’t fucking know ! I don’t know what you want me to say, you fucking thick-headed moron! What, do you want me to write a fucking essay for you about everything wrong with me and why I always screw everything good up? Do you? Do you?” Kim Dokja nearly screams at him, face screwed up as if he’s about to cry. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk nearly falls for it again, but he’s not going to, he tells himself. He’s going to force Kim Dokja to give him the answers he deserves, because he fucking owes him some answers. He’s not about to let Kim Dokja make some ridiculous speech and run off again, he absolutely won’t allow it. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk grabs Kim Dokja’s hand, pulling him closer, his eyes red, and runs out the door of the supermarket. In the back of his mind, he hears a worker screaming at him to come back and pay for the stuff he’s unceremoniously dumped on the ground.

 

  Maybe another day he’ll do it, but not today and not now. 

 

  Kim Dokja is making some noises of protest somewhere behind him, but that’s not important right now, so Yoo Joonghyuk merely relegates it to background noise. 

  They make it all the way back to Yoo Joonghyuk’s new apartment, panting, hands still tightly intertwined with each other’s. 

 

  In true Kim Dokja fashion, the first thing he says when he looks up around the new apartment is “Wow, new place? Nice.”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk can only stare at him wordlessly, stunned by his sheer audacity, and yet inexorably fond, “We were supposed to stay here.”

 

  The plural pronoun seems to startle Kim Dokja, who says disbelievingly, “You bought the place?”

 

  “I bought it before I asked you,” Yoo Joonghyuk replies, and Kim Dokja looks stricken by the answer. It strikes Yoo Joonghyuk as inexplicably wrong when faced with Kim Dokja like this, small and diminished, not in his usual way but in the way of a man evidently terrified.

 

  But of what? What is it about Yoo Joonghyuk terrifies this impossible man so much? 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk has racked his brains long and hard for an answer and has come back empty-handed. And even when he lay with another, in one of his countless attempts to erase Kim Dokja from his mind, none of them had this strange, visceral reaction to him the morning after like Kim Dokja always has.

 

  “Why are you like this,” Yoo Joonghyuk says first, and thinks no that came out wrong . He tries again, “Why do you always look so scared?”

 

  Kim Dokja’s face is aghast, and he laughs bitterly, “Am I really that easy to read?”

 

  “Kim Dokja, you are impossible to read,” Yoo Joonghyuk says, his mouth twisting into a scowl.

 

  “You of all people shouldn’t be saying this to me,” Kim Dokja shoots back. 

 

  “ Me? You are the one who runs off every time I do something I think you would like, every single time . Am I really that terrible to you?”

 

  “Where the hell did you get that idea from, you stupid sunfish?” The nickname slips out so casually that Yoo Joonghyuk nearly doesn’t even catch it, but Kim Dokja continues on, “It’s not like that! I’m not fucking scared of you!”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t miss the implication, “Then what are you even scared of?” Why do you always turn away from me when it matters? Goes unsaid. 

 

  Kim Dokja looks away, unhesitant and so unlike himself, “I don’t know.”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk wants to snap at him, “Then what do you know!” but he holds himself back and waits. 

 

  “You know, I didn’t think I knew how to love,” Kim Dokja says and this also strikes Yoo Joonghyuk as profoundly wrong. Kim Dokja only knows how to love, he loves without abandon, and when he loves he loves wholeheartedly. Yoo Joonghyuk sees it in the careful way he treats every single one of his belongings, cleaning them weekly, making sure everything is always right where it needs to be. Yoo Joonghyuk sees it in the way he talks about his books, when he goes on long and overly convoluted rants about how so-and-so deserved better, how so-and-so’s character was so intricately developed that it made him cry. Yoo Joonghyuk sees it in the way he had treated a child on the street when she had bumped into them on their dates, lost and in tears. Kim Dokja had been surprised at first, fumbling around her, unsure of what to do with children but still endearing himself to her enough that she nearly didn’t want to leave him when her mom came by. 

 

  Kim Dokja does know how to love, of this, Yoo Joonghyuk is certain, and he tells Kim Dokja as much. 

 

  Kim Dokja looks shocked by this revelation, as if he himself hadn’t expected it, but then he shakes his head and says, “That’s what Sangah-ssi said too.”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk recognises the name vaguely as the brown-haired girl who was essentially the campus student welfare spokesperson, and he says, “She’s smart.”

 

  “I don’t know, I don’t know what love is like. No one’s ever taught me properly, I think my mom loved me but she left my life so soon I don’t even truly recall how she loved me, if she did. Look at me, I’m a fucking loser , in middle school, in high school, and somewhat in college. I didn’t even have friends before you or Han Sooyoung, I didn’t have anyone, so, tell me Yoo Joonghyuk, how could I be able to love if I’ve never felt it?”

 

  A heavy silence blankets the space in between them, as Yoo Joonghyuk chooses his next words carefully, “I don’t think you don’t know how to love. I think that you don’t know what it feels like to you because you don’t want to acknowledge it when you do feel it.”

 

  He tacks on, “Kim Dokja, you know how you feel, stop lying to yourself.”

 

  Kim Dokja stares at him, lips upturned in a grim smile, “Yoo Joonghyuk, you seem to know me well. Then, did you know that when you confessed to me and told me that you loved me I was scared?”

 

  “I could tell,” Yoo Joonghyuk replies simply.

 

  “Did you know how hard I tried to love you back? Do you know how terrified I was that my love would never match up to yours?”

 

  “You don’t need to compare—!”

 

  Kim Dokja cuts him off, “You don’t understand, I wanted what we had so badly, I really did. I thought about it so much, I didn’t know how I could match up to you, everything that you did for me. You did so much , Joonghyuk-ah.”

 

  “You’re acting as if you’re the only one who has benefited from our relationship! Kim Dokja, did so much for me too! You’re acting like you weren’t always there for me when I was upset, you’re acting as if you didn’t put in so much effort to keep up with my schedule to help me with the chores while I was at work. You think I didn’t notice?” Yoo Joonghyuk is positively incensed at this point.

 

  “That’s nothing! You’ve done everything for me, and I was so, so scared I couldn’t return your love. Joonghyuk-ah, not everything is as easy as you make it seem!” Kim Dokja bursts out, furious.

 

  “So you run away? And leave me without explaining any of this, telling me anything?” Yoo Joonghyuk can feel his blood pressure rising as he shouts.

 

  “Fuck you,” Kim Dokja spits, “I loved you and I was a coward, is that what you wanted to hear?”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk startles, “You—what?” 

 

  The realisation of what he just said seems to dawn on Kim Dokja, who backs away from Yoo Joonghyuk slightly, blinking like a deer caught in headlights. 

 

  Kim Dokja seems to be even more confused than Yoo Joonghyuk when he repeats, “I—I love you?”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t even wait, his mind is completely empty beyond the overwhelming urge to take Kim Dokja and never let him go. He presses his lips against the other, hard and searing, he wants to leave marks so deep Kim Dokja would never think of leaving him again. 

 

  Kim Dokja doesn’t move at first, mouth gaping slightly, but Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t mind because he slips his tongue beyond Kim Dokja’s lips into his mouth. The inside of Kim Dokja’s mouth tastes just like he remembers, it’s sweet and salty, the taste seeping into Yoo Joonghyuk’s tongue as he licks the walls of Kim Dokja’s mouth. 

 

  Then Kim Dokja seems to come back alive, like a robot rebooting, as he opens his mouth wider to allow Yoo Joonghyuk in, and presses his lips back against Yoo Joonghyuk’s, searching.

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes are shut when he feels a cold, thin hand reach up and cup his face, and he leans into the achingly familiar gesture. Kim Dokja presses their faces even closer, his tongue now twisted around Yoo Joonghyuk’s, desperate and moaning. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t realise how much he truly missed this, how much he missed having Kim Dokja exactly where he wanted him. 

 

  Right beside him. 

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk was never letting him go, ever. Yoo Joonghyuk told him exactly that when he had pulled Kim Dokja’s shirt off, hands searching for the feel of warm skin, thumbs brushing teasingly over his nipples. 

 

  “Fuck,” Kim Dokja groaned, capturing Yoo Joonghyuk’s bottom lip between his teeth.

 

  Then, Kim Dokja had pulled them apart, eyes large and imploring, and said, “Take me to bed, Joonghyuk-ah.” 

 

  And who is Yoo Joonghyuk to say no?

 

  He lifts Kim Dokja up, and brings him to his, no their room, and tosses him on the bed. Yoo Joonghyuk can not be soft right now, he needs Kim Dokja immediately. He brings his teeth down onto that pale shoulder and bites . The tangy, salty taste of blood fills his mouth, and Yoo Joonghyuk likes it. 

 

  Kim Dokja lets out a surprised yelp but nuzzles into Yoo Joonghyuk anyways. Then, he leans forward and whispers in Yoo Joonghyuk’s ear, “Take me, make me yours.”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk fucking loses it at that point, he rips off Kim Dokja’s clothes, and then his own groaning in frustration at the many zippers and buttons he has to undo. 

 

  Sue him if he takes the easy way out and rips open his own shirt, buttons popping open, he has more important things to care about, like Kim Dokja’s skin on his, everywhere. He wants to press his body so deeply into Kim Dokja’s that they meld together, at least that way, Kim Dokja will never run away from him again. He can’t run from him again, and that thought fills Yoo Joonghyuk with a sick satisfaction. 

 

  He prepares Kim Dokja sloppily, panting into the other’s hair, as his fingers poked and prodded the soft walls. 

 

  “Faster, I’m ready,” Kim Dokja urges as he wraps his legs around Yoo Joonghyuk’s waist, pressing his ass against Yoo Joonghyuk’s painfully hard dick.

 

  “Wait,” he says in response, though he’s clearly just as affected by the whole ordeal as Kim Dokja is. Yoo Joonghyuk wriggles his fingers a few more times, scissoring in and out before he deems Kim Dokja ready and bottoms out.

 

  Kim Dokja throws his head back, and moans wantonly, heels digging into Yoo Joonghyuk’s back as he forces Yoo Joonghyuk in deeper. He looks up at Yoo Joonghyuk, lips reddened and gasping for air, and says, “Come on, you can do better than this. Harder.”

 

  Kim Dokja pauses and adds, “Baby, please. You’ll do it for me, right? Harder. Now.”

 

  “Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk replies warningly but accedes to the request anyways, pistoning his hips harder into Kim Dokja. 

 

  It’s been far too long, it’s been far too long without Kim Dokja. And as Yoo Joonghyuk looks down at the gorgeous man below him, eyes fluttered shut, faces flushed in the most appealing of pinks, he comes, far too fast but far harder than he has before. 

 

  Kim Dokja follows soon after, his nails digging marks into Yoo Joonghyuk’s back that would undoubtedly be furiously red after, dotting his back with scarlet crescents. Somewhere along the line, Kim Dokja presses his mouth to Yoo Joonghyuk’s again and captures him in a fervent kiss, their noses pressed into each others.

 

  “We should clean up,” Yoo Joonghyuk murmurs into Kim Dokja’s mouth, with absolutely no intention to do so. 

 

  Kim Dokja hums in reply, “Maybe”

 

  Neither of them moves for a long time.

✶

EPILOUGE

 

Kim Dokja     

 

  Kim Dokja was not happy for a long time, he didn’t know he could be for far longer. But his circumstances have changed, he thinks, as he stares at his laptop hard. His fingers tapping furiously on the keyboard. 

 

  A cup of tea is placed down gently beside him, green tea, he knows because Yoo Joonghyuk knows him. The man in question takes a seat right beside him, wrapping a warm, muscled arm around his waist. He leans into the touch unquestioningly and the other wraps an arm around him tighter in response, and puts his head on Kim Dokja’s shoulder. 

 

  “What did Han Sooyoung do now?” His husband , his fucking husband asks. Kim Dokja is so lucky and he feels so full he could burst. 

 

  Kim Dokja doesn’t say any of that, he has some semblance of dignity, so instead, he says, “Han Sooyoung is the devil because have you seen this monstrosity of a chapter she wrote? Why would she make the main character go through hell over and over again with no happy ending in sight? The protagonist is not her punching bag! In the first place, it’s evident this chapter is just filler, it’s pointless.”

 

  “Mn,” Yoo Joonghyuk replies in acknowledgment, knowing that Kim Dokja is far too gone on whatever tangent he’s concocted in his head.

 

  “Even worse, she’s added romance ,” Kim Dokja pauses for a respectful moment for dramatic effect and soldiers on, “She’s literally the one who said that she hates writing romance! It’s so clearly fanservice too! I can’t believe she’s a sellout.”

 

  Kim Dokja runs those words over in his head again slowly, “No, I can believe that she’s a sellout actually.”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk interjects, “I think the romance adds to the plot, and she’s already foreshadowed it before. The new guy was going to be important, and the protagonist is obviously in love with him.”

 

  “Are you kidding , the protagonist hates that guy! He’s just future cannon fodder and he makes the protagonist suffer so damn much! Why does the protagonist need to work so hard to run after this random guy?”

 

  Yoo Joonghyuk shrugs and presses a kiss to Kim Dokja’s lips to shut him up before he starts getting any more heated about this than he already is. 

 

  Kim Dokja is a weak, weak man so it works and he gets too caught up in trying to navigate around his laptop and the steaming hot cup of tea on the table to crawl into Yoo Joonghyuk’s lap. He presses his hands to Yoo Joonghyuk’s generous chest, cupping the muscles in his palms. 

 

  Kim Dokja says breathlessly once they break apart, “I guess sometimes love is worth working towards.” 

 

  “Love like all other types of labour bears fruit once you nurture it properly, Kim Dokja.” Yoo Joonghyuk says, staring into his eyes. Kim Dokja’s breath catches for a moment. 

 

  “When did you get so wise and eloquent, my Hyukie?” Kim Dokja whispers, and they both know full well they aren’t talking about the book.

 

Notes:

yjh.....babygirl (this fandom has too little bottom yjh. i will change that. yes. im criminally insane)

leave comments/kudos!! they mean everything to me.

 

twt (i post threadfics there)