Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Two hours later, the material was ready to be created, and an hour later it was already posted under an anonymous name on the Naver website. There was no avatar, the name was fake, but the material looked more real than anything else that had been created, despite the fact that Dokja had to work hard on censorship — leaving only a piece of the body where the face was not showing and a little blood on the hand. It all looked quite presentable. A thousand times better than what the director of the company he was a slave to forced him to write. Although there was one major advantage in the editorial office — a correspondent's license, even when he worked as an editor. It was one of the terms of the contract, and Dokja never regretted how brilliantly he had anticipated the situation.

Smiling smugly, he felt relieved. However, another feeling appeared in his chest... some kind of warmth? The same warmth that haunted him only in his thoughts became a reality. His passion for what he had been wasting years of his life on was finally beginning to take the desired shape. No need to write for someone else, the ability to control the censorship of the text himself and enjoy how he described things. Dokja was too hardworking for this company, and he knew it. He could have worked in a normal editorial office if he had been more courageous. However, his confidence disappeared somewhere when he went through interviews, submitted his work, and so on. It was a fear he couldn't overcome since school, no matter how hard he tried.

He propped his head up with his arm bent on the table, staring at the words and checking for mistakes. However, for several minutes, he caught himself looking through the screen at the front door, near which his desk and laptop stood.

He wondered what that reaction meant when he said he had a date with a girl. Joonghyuk reacted so strangely, as if it upset or annoyed him.

Dokja covered his eyes, continuing his train of thought in a bored posture.

 In fact, he had never noticed the shades of vivid emotions on Joonghyuk's face. However, they were still memorable. It was something that attracted him, sometimes making him shiver from the way he was looked at. Dokja leaned back in his chair, covering his eyes in embarrassment at what he was thinking. Seriously? Yesterday he was afraid, and today he was wondering how Joonghyuk was staring at every inch of his face without hesitation? 

Putting his other hand on his thigh, he slowly began to raise it...

KABOOM.

“Fuck,” Dokja almost fell off his chair in fright. “What the fuck...?”

The sound was as if someone had been thrown against the wall with all their might.

“Someone” because after the dull thud, a loud moan of pain could be heard. He looked up, as if trying to see something other than the white ceiling. After the bang, there was loud muttering, and for a second he thought it was the couple again. But the voices were male. What the hell? He hadn't heard of a single apartment in this building where two men lived. Drunk buddies?

He clicked his tongue, rubbing his face with his hands. This shit scared him a lot. Not a single day of peace for unfortunate Dokja. He looked at his watch and realized that there was little time left before he had to leave. The worst part was that he had to get ready while two men were yelling above his head. He glanced at his watch and realized that there was little time left before he had to leave. The worst part was that he had to get ready while two men were shouting above his head. It was terribly annoying, and he wanted to tell them everything to their faces, but something made him hesitate. The feeling that getting involved in these arguments would clearly not be good for him...

After a long days at work, it was nice to see himself not in the suit. However, Dokja decided to stick to a business style anyway, knowing the style Uriel dressed in. He would have been scolded by her if he had come in just a T-shirt and jeans. A short black linen shirt with small gray lines that created texture was tucked into straight-cut gray pants, and he wore black matte shoes on his feet. Adding small accessories in the form of two thin black bracelets, he took his phone from the charger.

Leaving the apartment, he noticed that the screams from above had died down a few minutes ago. Just as he was about to step outside, he was hit by a familiar stench. Lowering his eyes, he almost vomited: a mackerel with a completely rotten head, covered with mold and pierced with ten toothpicks. He held his breath, quickly took a bag from the apartment and packed this abomination into it, tying it tightly to block the air. Knowing that the trash would only be collected at a certain time, he put everything in a small black bag so as not to show this horror to others. Leaving the apartment for good, he closed the door and went downstairs. He glanced at the apartment from which, in his opinion, the screams were coming. There he saw only a half-open door.

No matter how much you avoid it, it won't go away.

Pursing his lips into a thin line, he turned and went to look for a trash can. He had plenty of time and arrived at the meeting place a little early. However, less than two minutes later, he heard a woman's voice call his name. He turned and saw Uriel walking quickly toward him.

Dokja was right—jeans and a T-shirt would have been a terrible choice. The girl ran up, breathless. Her curly blonde hair was partially gathered at the back with a white rose hair clip. She was wearing a milky white dress. Her style — romantic, vintage — looked too sophisticated. The top was a strapless corset with a heart-shaped neckline and lacing at the front. The fabric was silk, covered with dense lace embroidered with roses, which transitioned into a skirt made of several layers of silk, tulle, and lace. The hem was uneven: the left side was knee-length, while the right side fell down. On her feet were delicate shoes of the same color with low heels. Around her neck was a milky ribbon, and on her hands were light lace gloves.

Dokja raised his eyebrows, smiling and hugging her in response to her usual greeting gesture.

“Uriel, wow, you look like you stepped out of vintage gothic,” he said in surprise, looking at her admiringly as she spun around, showing off her detailed outfit.

He clapped his hands in support of her actions. The girl smiled, giggling softly.

“Thank you,” she folded her arms behind her back, and Dokja turned toward the city, gesturing for her to follow.

The weather had improved and warmed up compared to the morning. The sun was shining brightly, but it wasn't scorching. That meant they wouldn't die of heatstroke, at least for now.

Uriel started talking about one of the places she wanted to go, describing the food, interior, and other details to Dokja. It seemed as if she was persuading him to go there, listing all the benefits, like a child asking to buy a toy, proving its worth. All this caused only a slight laugh, so Dokja couldn't help but smile.

“You know we're going there anyway. Refusing you would be more harmful to me,” he furrowed his brows in a joking manner, causing Uriel to sigh dramatically and roll her eyes.

“Dokja, you know that when you reminisce about the past, you look like a grandfather. Buy yourself some glasses and a cane, and you'll be identical.”

About an hour passed as they discussed light topics, most of them office gossip. During this time, Dokja learned more than he expected. He even learned that one of his colleagues had given birth without going on maternity leave. Honestly, it didn't bother him, but Uriel emotionally recounted how worried she was about her health.

Sitting on a bench in the city center, she crossed her legs and talked, turning halfway toward him. He listened attentively, but his thoughts began to drift away from her romantic dramas.

They had known each other since their first year at university. They were in the same group. She was the class president, whom everyone loved, and Dokja was the guy in the corner who was always reading. He had no friends because he didn't want a large social circle. His conversations were mostly limited to teachers until one day Uriel literally became part of his life. He still wonders why she is so friendly with him. They are like blood relatives who grew up together. However, he was glad that she was on his side, if only because she never showed any romantic feelings towards him. Although he wasn't sure if she ever liked men at all. Yes, she had a few boyfriends, but she quickly broke up with all of them because they couldn't accept Dokja, who was free to stay at her house instead of the dormitory and even make himself coffee.

Dokja snapped out of his thoughts when he felt someone's eyes on him. He nodded in agreement with her words, but his attention was drawn to the crowd. At a distance, far enough away but still visible, sat a very familiar figure. It was not difficult to recognize. He looked up at Dokja, and his eyes widened in surprise.

“Is everything okay?” Uriel asked sharply, looking anxiously at Dokja.

“What the hell is he doing here?” he asked quietly.

“Who?”

“My neighbor,” he looked at Uriel, and when she turned to look, there was no one there.

“Where?” She tried hard to see, but saw no one who fit the description.

Dokja blinked several times, as if trying to clear his vision, but there was really no one there, as if there had never been. He began to feel strangely uneasy and continued to stare, trying to see something. Uriel was forced to gently take his cheeks, turning him toward her and forcing him to look at her. The warmth on his cheeks and the feel of lace distracted him a little, and he took a calming breath.

“Uriel, I'm going crazy,” he put his hands on hers, which were on his cheeks, and gently lowered them to her lap, removing his own.

The girl bit her lip, thinking, and stood up.

"If you think something and you want me to believe you, fine, let's go somewhere else. Maybe the large number of people is affecting you.” 

He wanted to shout that he really didn't think it was him. But what did he have? Fatigue, which could easily cause hallucinations, lack of sleep, and the fear he imposed on himself.

“I guess the person who died had a sharp tongue that had to be cut off.”

It flashed sharply in his mind, forcing him to completely ignore Uriel's words until she literally forced him to get up by pulling his hair. It was a gesture she rarely made — when Dokja finally needed to emerge from his thoughts and remember the real world. Dokja cried out loudly in pain, but got up, fixing his hair, which now looked a little disheveled.

“What's wrong?” Dokja asked, a little offended, which made Uriel cross her arms over her chest.

“Dokja, I'm going to have to make you introduce me to him soon, because this is impossible: you're not focusing on the conversation or your actions. Why are we even here?” Her angry gaze changed to a sad one, her furrowed brows softened, forming a very disappointed grimace.

It was as if she wasn't sad, but disappointed in something. This part of the emotional spectrum made Dokja feel like shit. With a heavy sigh, he gathered his thoughts.

“I'll tell you. Maybe we should eat first,” he said, not looking her in the eye.

The girl made an angry sound, saying,

“No, I don't want to go there when something is being hidden from me. Let's go after we talk.”

She grabbed Dokja by the hand, leading him for the first few minutes, but then they walked calmly side by side.

“By the way, I was investigating the killer photographer today,” he decided to soften the blow.

Uriel was silent for five seconds, and during that time Dokja regretted everything he had ever done wrong in his life. But she still asked:

“Weren't you forbidden from using your press card for non-media purposes?”

“Huh? How do you know I'm not going to give it back to them?”

“Because it's you,” she laughed, but her expression showed that she was listening carefully as they walked down the road.

He began to tell her everything calmly: from Sayong's call to the moment of his arrival, still omitting certain details. He said nothing about the blog, did not elaborate on his conversation with Sayong when they were drinking coffee, and did not mention Joonghyuk's phrase. He recounted the story in detail, but omitted the real moments that had upset him.

They finally reached the embankment. The wind here was different from the wind at the murder scene. The cold wind, which screamed of mourning for the dead, was replaced by a warm wind that penetrated their clothes and did not make them shiver. The large number of people going about their lives, oblivious to the events, was a little distracting. He glanced at his watch: <18:37>. Not wanting to sit any longer, they walked slowly across the grounds.

“But why are we hang out?” The casual question brought him back to the sad reality.

“When he came up to me to ask if I wanted to discuss the situation, I was confused,” Dokja began. Uriel's face showed a big question mark, not understanding where this was going. "And I told him I was going on a date with my girlfrend.”

He looked at her, trying to find genuine understanding. However, Uriel blinked several times and suddenly burst into sharp laughter. Genuine laughter, the kind that made Dokja afraid she would suffocate. He just watched her with embarrassed concern as Uriel nearly hugged the bench, laughing. People passed by, turning in surprise at the laughter, which sounded more like hysterics. It took 10 minutes for Uriel to calm down. Dokja handed her a napkin, and she wiped her tears, looking at her phone.

“Why did you even say you had a girlfriend?” She tried not to fall into hysterical laughter again. “He barely asked you out on a date, and you did that.”

"Uriel, you think too much about me. You and Sooyoung are literally setting me up with the guy who hit me in the head with an axe.”

“Well, dreams don't counttttt” she smiled. "How can you know anything about him? You don't even talk to him normally.”

Dokja looked at her with an angry expression, and she giggled. A rotten feeling of uncertainty in his thoughts spread through his body, weighing heavily on his shoulders. He clicked his tongue and abruptly changed the subject:

“Where's that place? I'm hungry.”

Uriel perked up, grabbed his elbow, and quickly led him to the place. It was nearby, but it gave Dokja time to sink into his thoughts. They talked only a little. He knew nothing about him except his name, where he lived, and what he did for a living.

The establishment had a pleasant white and pink interior with lots of plants. There were artificial vines on the ceiling, but on the walls, tables, and behind the sofas were real, well-groomed plants that created a feeling of freshness with a light scent of vanilla. The absence of kitchen smells added to the pleasant anticipation. They took a table by the window, which didn't please Dokja very much, but he decided not to say anything, not wanting to spoil Uriel's enthusiasm. He remembered their previous conversation and decided that he had to keep the right mood before going out to eat. He had to get away from it, because he was becoming dependent on thoughts about who his acquaintance was. So much so that he was losing himself and others. Right now, he was here, walking with his girlfriend.

The menu was typical of Uriel — lots of different flavors. The money here was probably spent on presentation rather than ingredients. He felt his eye twitch, but let it go.

“What do you recommend?” he asked anyway. Uriel immediately began pointing at a thousand places on the menu, so he didn't even try to read it. “Okay, get whatever you think I'll like.”

He propped his head up with both hands, resting his elbows on the table. There was a sly smile on his face, which made Uriel roll her eyes ostentatiously and call the waitress. The young girl appeared before them in a matter of seconds, and Dokja doomed himself to a sweet coma just because of the name “Dreamy Fruit Garden.”

“How's your vacation to Japan in a month?” Dokja finally changed the subject to something pleasant.

“Good. The girls and I have even chosen the outfits we're going to wear and when. It's a shame you're such a bore and won't be with us.”

“I wouldn't make sense among the girls. People would think I was crazy.”

Uriel leaned back in her chair, raising her eyebrows as if Dokja had made some strange joke, and snorted when she realized he was serious. She never understood that side of him. He was insecure around women, even though they would have taken him off her hands. Only sometimes at work and with her was he bold and himself: eloquent and full of hidden jokes.

Dokja was sure that she was thinking: he is stupid. And he smiled relaxed at her condemning expression.

Finally, the peace he had been longing for. Good weather, a cozy establishment, and company that completely relieved all his anxieties. It seemed that nothing could bother him until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Excuse me, I hope I'm not disturbing you?” A familiar voice echoed in his ears, sending a chill down his spine.

He couldn't look up, freezing on Uriel's surprised face. She looked at Dokja, then at Joonghyuk, but her face wasn't frightened like Dokja's. She didn't show any emotion at how they were looking at her. She just blinked a few times.

“Good afternoon, who are you?” She tilted her head to the side, smiling warmly.

“Oh, you must be Dokja's girlfriend, I'm sorry for the surprise,” he slowly lowered his hand from Dokja's shoulder, walking around from behind. “May I sit next to you? All the tables are taken."

Dokja looked around in hopes of finding a free table, but indeed, everything was occupied, although when they arrived, there had been plenty of seats.

“What are you doing here, Joonghyuk?” he asked seriously, looking at him as he sat down next to him.

Joonghyuk was acting completely differently, and it annoyed Dokja, who didn't understand the point of his appearance. The man just smiled lightly, covering his eyes from laughter and covering his mouth with his hand for a moment.

“To be honest, I came here completely by accident and saw you and your incredibly beautiful companion,” he nodded toward Uriel, and she smiled politely.

“Dokja must have told me about you. Nice to meet you, I'm Uriel,” she looked at Dokja with an expression that said he now owed her for the rest of his life.

Dokja noticed this and realized that his life was now in her hands. He was incredibly glad that he had told her about his plan before they came here.

“I`m not...”

“Told you? What could he have said about me that was so interesting?” Joonghyuk raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Uriel, don’t raise his egoism,” Dokja interrupted, not letting him say anything else.

He genuinely didn’t understand what was going on. However, ten minutes later, Uriel and Joonghyuk looked as if they had known each other all their lives. Dokja sat and tried to understand why he had been dragged into this situation. Why was Joonghyuk, who usually looked dead and suspicious, now so actively chatting with her? He couldn't even imagine that he could have such a side. It drove him crazy.

When dessert was brought, Dokja stared sadly at the cake — thin layers resembling pancakes, lots of cream with pieces of kiwi, strawberry, and orange. He would have enjoyed it if it weren't for the familiar smell of men's perfume nearby: sandalwood with a slight hint of medical alcohol. It didn't fit in with this place or the atmosphere at all. Just like Joonghyuk's clothes: jeans with cargo-style side pockets with denim straps and a plain black T-shirt.

Dokja glanced at Uriel, who looked cheerful as usual, and stared at his dessert again, finding it more interesting than the two of them. He felt like a child trying to expose someone, but no one believed him. Uriel would not believe a word he said about Joonghyuk now.

“Dokja,” a man’s voice rang out. Dokja shuddered, coming out of his gloomy thoughts.

He looked up at Joonghyuk, who was looking at him with a slight smile, his eyes slightly narrowed. What a jerk. Does he think this is funny?

“You seem distant. Are you upset because I took your girlfriend?” The last word sounded strange, as if he was testing her reaction.

“What? No, I'm not...” He frowned, feeling someone else's shoe press against his leg.

The problem was that it was definitely not Uriel. He needed to say something to cover himself.

“Guys, I'll be right back,” Uriel interrupted their conversation, not making the situation any better. Taking her bag, she went to the restroom. Doccha almost screamed at how treacherous she was.

Taking her bag, she went to the restroom. Dokja almost shouted at her for being such a traitor.

“What do you really want? Why are you putting on this show?” He moved back a little from Joonghyuk.

Finally, the polite smile faded from his face a little, revealing his usual expression. He put his hand on the table, as if leaning on it, and whispered:

“Because I want to. Isn't your girlfriend happy to meet her boyfriend's friend? I'm not trying to interfere,” he put his other hand on the crook of his neck between his shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm not interested in her. I was just curious about you.”

“Huh?” He blinked, realizing something strange.

This dialogue did not happen.

“What show, Dokja? I just wanted to get to know you better. Don't take it to heart.” 

What was reality and what were the hallucinations that haunted Dokja today?

“Sorry, I'm too tired.”

“Shouldn't you rest then? I don't think Uriel would mind if you rested more.”

Dokja nodded surprisingly. Just then, Uriel returned. She looked at the slightly frightened Dokja, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“Dokja, are you okay?” She leaned over his shoulder, looking into his face.

“I think he’s a little tired,” Joonghyuk said calmly, touching Dokja’s forehead as if checking his temperature.

What the hell. There wasn't a single coherent thought in his head, as if he couldn't focus on anything. Uriel called the waitress, and Dokja took a sip of water, trying to collect his thoughts.

“Uriel, I'll pay,” he waved away her objection and paid only for himself and her. There was no point in paying for this scumbag who was ruining the evening.

There was no point in paying for this scumbag who ruined the evening. When the wind touched his face, he finally realized: he was in deep shit. He had to escape from Joonghyuk somehow, because he was definitely planning to ruin his life further.

Uriel, as if sensing this, returned to Dokja after searching for something on her phone (probably a taxi), hugged him, and kissed him on the cheek under Joonghyuk's gaze, ending her performance.

“I have to meet the girls, I'll text you,” she looked at him seriously and bowed slightly to Joonghyuk. “Bye, it was nice to meet you.”

Joonghyuk responded with the same gesture: “Me too, be safe” And she left. His only hope was gone. Dokja wanted to climb the wall, but instead he turned around and walked in the opposite direction from Joonghyuk.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“Is something wrong, Dokja?” The sad voice made him turn around abruptly.

But the face remained the same, as did the posture with his hands in his pockets. And yet this time it was real.

“No, I just don't want to burden you,” he lied. In fact, he was scared.

“You refused to come with me to talk because of your girlfriend, but now your girlfriend isn't with you, she went home. Are you busy now?” He pronounces the word “girlfriend” in a strange voice again, and in general his tone sounds somewhat offended.

Does he even know what it means to show emotions?

“I...” Dokja was confused, he had no answer to that.

“Let's go together.”

Dokja froze in place. All these situations were driving him crazy. He wanted to think clearly, but every time he couldn't find a sober point to hold on to. His head hurt just from Joonghyuk's presence. He avoided him not because he wanted to, but because he felt he had to. There was a strange feeling that if he stopped avoiding him, he would become part of something bad. But forgetting this rule for one evening wouldn't kill him.

“I'll go, but only if you answer my question,” he stood two meters away from him.

Joonghyuk tilted his head with interest, inviting him to continue.

“Why are you the only one in the whole house who doesn't avoid me?” He bit his cheek. He should have asked something less serious.

Joonghyuk hesitated for exactly 33 seconds:

“I don't know.”

“Then there's no point in me going with you,” he turned and walked away quickly until he was grabbed by the arm and pulled back.

“Dokja, believe me, I really don't know, because they avoided me for a long time too, until I became who I am now,” he made a fairly convincing look of victimhood, so much so that Dokja even believed it.

Or wanted to believe it. Nodding, he sighed deeply and lightly touched Joonghyuk's hand that was holding him, removing it from himself.

“Okay, I'll believe you. But you need to find a really interesting point in the investigation that will interest me,” he smiled lightly, which brought visible relief to Joonghyuk's face.

It turned out that he also noticed that he was being forced to photograph strange things, and he didn't agree with it, but orders from his superiors could not be disobeyed, even though he was trying to help with the case. During this conversation, Dokja confessed that he had started blogging, and it was clear that his interlocutor was very happy with this news. He seemed to be fascinated just listening to Dokja's guesses and ideas about the murder. He expressed so few of his own thoughts that it seemed as if everything was done just so that Dokja would begin his thoughtful monologue under his attentive stare. As they approached the house, they began to hear some screams. It reminded Dokja of the situation during the day.

“Did you hear screams during the day? Around 1 PM?” Dokja asked, looking at Joonghyuk.

Something unpleasant flashed across his face, as if Dokja had said something very nasty. He paused to answer when the building manager came around the corner with a teenager carrying some trash in a black plastic bag.

“Oh, hello, how's your evening going?” the manager asked, while the teenager looked a little scared.

“Great, how about yours? Isn't it too late to be taking out the trash?” Joonghyuk asked, staring intently at the manager, who folded his arms across his chest in a defensive gesture.

“I had to take it out now... These teenagers are just awful,” he rolled his eyes, then looked at Dokja. “I hope it's not like that for you, Dokja?”

Dokja shook his head, replying that he didn't keep trash in his apartment. I remembered the whole collection of fish that lay under his door, and he was constantly looking for meaning in it.

Fish that rotted from the head... Fish rots from the head? The expression that terrible things start with leadership...

“I've had rotten fish under my door for more than three days now?” He looked at the manager with dissatisfaction, whose face showed surprise. “Don't you know who it could be?”

He needed to know the answer before it was too late. If it wasn't already.