Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Dokja-ssi?”

Kim Dokja looked up from the latest web novel update that he was reading, startled back into reality. A woman with sleek, chestnut hair was squeezing between two weary-looking salary men towards him. The subway car veered slightly and she stumbled a bit before catching herself on the bar next to him, straightening up with easy elegance.

“Yoo Sangah-ssi? I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Dokja quickly put away his phone, but her perceptive eyes didn't miss the flash of the page before it disappeared into his pocket.

“Engrossed in your stories as always I see.” She laughed lightly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Dokja smiled back a bit tightly, but didn't respond. After an awkward beat of silence, he realized that he should offer a seat to her and belatedly scooted over to make room. She sat down, smoothing out her spotless, cream-coloured pencil skirt before crossing her legs.

“I usually don’t take this route, but my boss needs me to drop off some materials at our Sinsa office,” she answered his earlier comment.

“Ah,” Dokja acknowledged. Then he remembered an update he’d seen a couple months ago on her social media page.

“You’ve become the assistant editor at Olympus Magazine right? I owe you a late congratulations,” he said sincerely. Yoo Sangah had been a talented and diligent worker for as long as he’d known her, it was no doubt a deserved promotion.

She waved off his praise. “Not too much has changed, I’m still mostly running errands for our chief editor as you can see,” she smiled good-naturedly, giving the briefcase in her hands a little shake.

“Anyway, I wouldn’t have made it this far without Dokja-ssi’s help all those years ago during our internship together. I still count you as one of the people I look up to the most in our industry.” At her words, he looked down at his hands.

“Yoo Sangah-ssi is too kind,” he replied, keeping his tone purposefully light. “I was just as clueless back then as you were.”

Immediately, he internally winced at his word choice. That wasn’t quite the right thing to say. Yoo Sangah didn’t say anything next to him.

He glanced back up at her to gauge her reaction. Luckily, it seemed she didn’t think anything of it as she was looking out the window wearing a serene expression. The subway was currently running aboveground, streaking across the glistening Han River. The early evening sun stretched in through the window and caught on her face, illuminating her long eyelashes and the soft curves of her cheeks. She was undoubtedly beautiful, and had only become more so as the years passed - the cute girlishness he knew when they were younger had slowly become refined poise.

The moment passed as they were plunged back into the dark tunnels, and Yoo Sangah turned back around to face him.

“How have you been?”

“All the same as usual. Uriel continues to keep me busy at work,” he replied, the tension in his shoulders loosening as their conversation drifted back to small talk.

“I’m sure she’s keeping you on your toes,” she smiled. He nodded in agreement.

The subway chimed as they pulled into the Sinsa stop.

“This is where I get off. Let’s have a meal together soon, okay?” Sangah stood up, straightening out her blazer.

“Yes, okay.”

With a wave, she stepped off the train and disappeared into the commuter crowd. Dokja released a breath he’d been holding, and relaxed back into his seat. Running into Sangah always came with a nerve-wracking journey back to old memories, but thankfully their encounters were usually brief - neither of them ever followed up on the promises to have a meal together.

In an attempt to distract himself, he pulled his phone back out to continue with the chapter he’d been reading. Several stops passed in a blur and he found himself engrossed once again in the story.

Dokja steadily scrolled, reaching the end as he neared his home stop. A frown appeared on his face as he realized the chapter ended in a particularly unsatisfying cliffhanger. He quickly switched windows to his messages app, preparing to send a strongly worded text to the author.

At that moment, the subway abruptly screeched to a halt, brakes screaming and sparks flying outside the window. Dokja’s phone clattered out of his hand at the sudden jolt, sliding under his seat. Shouts of surprise sounded all around him, people putting their hands to their ears to shut out the squealing noise. The lights flickered haphazardly, before completely going out - plunging the entire car into darkness. A little girl a few seats down screamed with terror. The salary men around Dokja didn’t fare any better, the rising panic in their voices palpable.

“Hey!”

“What’s going on?”

“Why has the subway stopped?”

Dokja groped around underneath his seat for his phone. He found its familiar form and grasped it tightly before rising back onto his seat. Just then, the dim, red-hued emergency lights flicked on. Now with some light in the subway, some of the people who had jumped to their feet slowly sank back down to sitting. While nervousness still edged their voices, at the very least they could see each other.

“It’s okay, the power grid probably went down.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll come back soon.”

Dokja’s eyes swept around the subway car, trying to see if anyone had gotten hurt with the sudden stop. The frightened girl’s mother was soothing her, pulling her tight into her arms as she stroked the child's head and whispered reassurances. Dokja quickly looked away towards the other passengers, who luckily all seemed fine if only a bit spooked. Most of them were desperately trying to find a phone signal to call for help or were anxiously wondering out loud about what exactly was happening.

A still figure leaning against the back of the train caught his eye.

The man was tall and broad shouldered, wavy dark hair sweeping down across his forehead. He was clad in all black with his arms crossed emphatically, as if the chaos unravelling around him didn’t concern him in the slightest. He was wearing a black face mask so Dokja couldn’t see his expression, but the moment his eyes slid his way, the man turned and met his eye contact head on with an unnamable ferocity. Strangely unable to look away, Dokja maintained his stare.

Finally, the crackling intercom ripped his attention away.

“Passengers, there has been a problem with the power. We are working through it as we speak and we should be up and running in a few minutes. I apologize for the inconvenience to everyone and thank you for your patience.”

His fellow riders all gave an audible sigh of relief, only a few grumbling in annoyance at the delay.

With his own worries quelled as well, Dokja adjusted himself and turned on his phone again. He flipped open another web novel to pass the time.

As promised, the subway hummed back to life within a few minutes and the regular fluorescent overhead lights came back on. He squinted a bit at the sudden brightness but was glad that it seemed he would make it home not too late after all. Dokja was looking forward to his bed after the long day he had spent meeting a deadline for Uriel. She, for some reason, had been insistent that they needed to publish an article on the latest BL drama that had been released.

In Dokja’s opinion, it didn’t exactly seem like a hard-hitting, time-sensitive piece, but what did he know? He was just whim to Uriel’s incessant and sometimes strange demands. Whatever her strategy was though, it was undeniably successful as she had been able to grow a relatively unknown magazine to a reputable, alternative publication popular with serious readers within just a few years. There was a need for a fluff piece every now and then, Dokja supposed.

The subway thankfully continued its journey without another hiccup and two stops later, Dokja stood up to get off. Suddenly, he remembered the striking stranger from earlier and glanced at the back of the train again.

It was empty - the man must’ve left inconspicuously at the stop prior.

Shaking away that odd impression, he stepped out as soon as the doors slid open, a spring in his step as he eagerly thought about which convenience store instant ramen he was going to pick for that night’s dinner.

-

“So what did you think?” Han Sooyoung put her hands against her chin with an expectant look on her face. He couldn’t see it through the phone screen but he knew she was tapping her feet impatiently as well.

Dokja slurped the last of his instant jjajang noodles and wiped his mouth quickly.

“What’s with the cliffhanger?” he asked, slipping in a petulant whine. He sat back in his chair as he tossed the bowl into the trash nearby. Sooyoung gave him a wicked smile and roughly combed back her choppy black hair.

“Well, I have to keep the readers coming back somehow, don’t I?” she shrugged innocently.

“Right, because you struggle so much with readership.” Dokja rolled his eyes. She returned with an arrogant look.

“Well, my loyal fans do have to wait a bit longer now between chapters than what they’re used to,” she responded leisurely. “The filming for The Infinite Regressor is really ramping up these days.”

Dokja knew better than anyone how crazy Sooyoung’s schedule had become. Since she had achieved her first web novel hit five years ago, her time had become increasingly hectic. Film and television studios clamoured for the rights to her works and being as protective of her artistry as she was, she insisted on overseeing each adaption. Dokja often complained to her about how difficult it was to find time to hang out these days.

He was happy for her all the same though. After all, he also knew better than anyone how deserved her groundbreaking success was. When they had first met over a decade ago, she was just a fledgling writer, typing up mistake-ridden chapters on the internet when she was supposed to be in after-school tutoring sessions.

“My honest opinion though, is that it was good,” Dokja told her. Despite all the teasing, he took his job as her first reader very seriously.

“I like that we’re finally starting to see into the protagonist’s past, it really helps put some of the decisions he’s made into perspective. I was worried it might be a bit contrived since up until now he’s been a bit of an edgelord, but I really thought the way you portrayed it worked.”

Sooyoung took in his praise with a self-satisfied grin. “Thank you very much, my dear reader.” She tipped an imaginary hat.

“I wasn’t finished,” he interrupted. Her hat tip stopped in mid air. “I'm still not quite convinced by the deuteragonist though. While he’s competent and a great foil to the protagonist, I don’t understand what’s driving him or why he continues to accompany the main character in the first place.”

His best friend huffed in pretend annoyance but then quickly brightened up again. “All in good time. I have that planned out, you just need patience,” she winked.

Dokja didn’t doubt her. Even in the beginning, when her style was hasty and unsubtle, Sooyoung’s storytelling ability never disappointed.

“I will be waiting with bated breath,” he said solemnly. She barked a laugh and languidly lounged back on her cushy office chair.

“So anything new and exciting to report?” she asked, twirling a strand of her dark hair into her mouth to chew. It was a gross habit he repeatedly admonished her for, but something she’d never grown out of.

“The power in the subway went out for a couple minutes today,” he said.

“Wow, how riveting, tell me more,” Sooyoung looked at him through half-lidded eyes, clearly bored.

“I mean it was pretty scary,” he muttered defensively. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh, and also I ran into Yoo Sangah,” Dokja said, as an afterthought.

“Yoo Sangah?” With this admission, Sooyoung immediately leaned into the camera, her eyes bright with interest. “Did you trip all over yourself like the last time you saw her?”

“I did not trip all over myself last time,” he protested. “And it was fine. We just talked about this and that for a few minutes before she had to go.”

“Isn’t she a big shot editor now at that popular magazine?”

“Yeah,” he affirmed. “But she was the same as always, she hasn’t changed much personality-wise.”

“You really dropped the bag with that one,” Sooyoung chuckled to herself.

Dokja laughed lightly as well and absently fiddled with his abandoned chopsticks still on the table. Sooyoung coughed quietly.

“Anyhow, the past is in the past,” she quickly said. “Did she ask you to have a meal with her again?"

"Mhm."

Honestly, I think you should take her up on the offer. You two agreed to stay friends after all.”

“That’s just something people say."

“I think Yoo Sangah is someone who would mean it though,” Sooyoung insisted. “Also, it's my responsibility to find you some new caretakers - I mean friends - now that I’m so caught up with work.”

Dokja gave her a withering look. “What am I? Your cat? I don’t need babysitting.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, as if to confirm that she indeed did regard him as a pet.

“Anyway, I do have new friends. I’m seeing them this weekend, in fact.” The words came out sounding more pathetic than Dokja meant, and it earned him a condescending look.

“Is this that Jung Heewon woman you met a couple months ago while working on the martial arts piece?”

Dokja nodded.

“Well, I’m still not exactly sure what could possibly compel her to befriend you, but I’m glad you’re opening yourself up to these new social opportunities,” Sooyoung placed a hand over her heart, eyes full of insincerity. Before he could retort back, her eyes flicked upward, as if reading something at the top of her phone.

“What does this bastard want…” she grumbled, snatching the phone up in dramatic fashion. Suddenly, Dokja could only see the tips of her bangs, poking in haphazard directions.

“Sorry, it’s the producer of the show calling. I have to see what he wants,” she sighed heavily. “I’ll talk to you later?”

Although slightly miffed he wasn’t able to get the last word in on her dig at him earlier, he quickly said goodbye and let her go, knowing this new producer she was working with was a piece of work.

He cleaned up the remains of his convenience store dinner, sweeping the fish cake wrapper into the trash. While his apartment was on the small (cozy, he liked to call it) side, he tried to keep it relatively neat. Dokja washed his hands and looked around to see if he had missed anything.

His eyes caught on the intimidating pile of laundry in the corner of his room and sighed. Despite his best efforts, dirty clothes were a constant hovering presence in his apartment. It was rare for him to get down time at home and so that pile was often just an ever-growing monstrosity. Only when it became a near-sentient being would he finally force himself to crack open his washer.

Musing, he went over and gathered the loose laundry into his basket. It was one of those rare nights that he didn’t have an article to work on, so naturally he should capitalize on it. Uriel hadn’t assigned him anything after the BL fluff piece, and there weren’t any pressing leads on his radar. Dokja wondered idly as he dumped the overflowing basket into the washer whether Uriel would have a new story for him to dive into tomorrow. If not, maybe he could even take a day or two off.

He allowed himself a little smile at that idea and began daydreaming about what he would do with such a luxury. There was a comic store he and Sooyoung used to frequent in their college days that he hadn’t been to in ages. It was an hour and a half ride away so he usually didn’t have that sort of time to go, but with a vacation day then it might be possible.

With that plan in mind, he hummed happily to himself as he flicked on the washing machine and finished off the rest of his chores. Despite the very strange subway ride today, the rest of the week was looking up.

Chapter Text

“What?” 

Kim Dokja leaned forward in his office chair and angled his ear at Uriel, just in case he had misheard her. She looked at him with an exasperatingly inculpable expression that he was all too familiar with. Her green eyes were wide, as if she had only angelic intentions, but the sparkles of mischief in them said differently. 

“I said we’re doing a big feature spread on the esports industry next month. And I want you to write it,” she sweetly repeated the words Dokja had initially hoped he heard wrong. The vacation day plans he’d giddily made last night shattered before his eyes. 

“But I know nothing about video games,” he protested weakly. He knew very well that he would never be able to change Uriel’s mind once she had made a decision. 

“That’s never been an issue for you,” she waved his complaint away, as expected. “You wrote that whole piece about insects, remember?” 

“That was just an interview column with an entomologist, that’s different,” he grumbled, slumping down into his seat. She ignored his complaints. 

“You’ll be interviewing an industry expert this time as well. Shadowing him for three weeks, in fact.” She leaned against his cubicle, a glint in her eyes. She looked way too happy assigning this giant of a project to him, knowing very well that it was pretty much going to consume all his days for the foreseeable future.

“Three weeks?” he frowned. Sure, he’d done in-depth investigative work before, some stories that spanned months even. But three whole weeks on just an article about esports seemed a bit much. 

“I want to give you enough time to dig into the details. There’s a few different angles we’re looking to incorporate into the piece,” she explained, now with a more businesslike expression on her face that reminded Dokja not to push it too far with his complaining. This was his job after all, and despite her sometimes immature antics, Uriel was still his editor-in-chief. 

“There are three topics that should be covered in this story: the industry, the company, and the gamer.”

Dokja pulled out his notebook, and diligently wrote these down. 

“We’re partnering with the esports company Nebula for this piece, so that’s the one you’ll be focusing on. The person you’ll be shadowing will also be one of their biggest stars.” 

He nodded, continuing to take notes. He’d never heard of Nebula before but to be fair, he hadn’t heard of any esports company before, much less any celebrity in the gaming space. 

“In terms of what kind of story you want to tell with the article, I’ll leave that up to you Dokja,” Uriel said, her playful smile returning. “I can always trust it’ll be a good one.” 

She pushed herself off the wall and turned around to leave, her long blond curls almost whipping Dokja in the face.

“Wait, who’s the person I’m shadowing?” he asked, repressing the urge to itch his nose where she’d nearly whacked him. 

Uriel turned her face, this time with what was definitely an impish grin. 

“Yoo Joonghyuk, the Supreme King himself.” 

With that, she sauntered back to her office down the hall, leaving those words behind as if they were supposed to mean anything to Kim Dokja. 

-

The next day, he found himself on a busy street in Seocho, staring gloomily up at a glass high rise. 

He rubbed his bleary eyes and hoped that he looked half-way presentable, despite his total sleep last night of about four hours. He’d spent much of his evening researching the essentials of the esports world. It was basic professional courtesy for the people he’d be working with that he didn't come in with a complete blank slate. Dokja still didn’t quite understand the draw of watching people pretend to shoot other people online, but after doing his due diligence he had to admit it was an immense industry. 

He straightened his light blue button down as best as he could, took a big breath, and walked through the double glass doors of the building. 

Dokja approached the primly dressed receptionist at the front desk and let her know that he was a reporter visiting Nebula. She politely asked him to wait on the couches while she notified them.

Thanking her, he sat down awkwardly, laptop bag on his lap. Dokja felt a bit shabby and out of place in this sleek, spotless lobby. Their magazine, while well-respected, was not considered mainstream and so they didn’t work with large companies too often. Even then, rarely would they be handed to Dokja who wasn’t even yet a senior staff writer - this was a new experience for him and he wasn’t quite sure what to expect. 

A few minutes later, a stout man in a dark grey hoodie appeared from the elevators and made a beeline towards him. Dokja stood up in greeting.

“You must be Kim Dokja-ssi from Eden!” The man gave him a broad smile and a firm handshake. Dokja nodded in confirmation, and the man passed him a guest’s badge which he quickly looped around his neck. 

“I’m Baram, one of the senior managers here at Nebula. Come with me, we’re just on the 41st floor.” 

Dokja dutifully followed behind him and boarded the elevator. 

“So what does your role involve?” Dokja asked as the elevator began to ding upwards. One of the first things he usually did when doing a deep dive of an organization was to learn what each person did. It would make it easier later on to know who to approach for the different pieces of information that would ultimately allow him to put together the entire story. 

“Ah well, I mostly manage the team members. Making sure the talent is properly pampered,” Baram chuckled and Dokja cracked a smile. “In our line of work, I have to make sure that our employees are playing video games, rather than not. Haha!” 

“I have to admit, I’m no expert in the space but I’m eager to learn more,” Dokja replied politely, easily slipping into his professional persona. As much as he had despaired initially, his curious mind couldn’t help but be a little excited at the prospect of delving into something new. 

“Well, you’ll be spending lots of time with our superstar himself, Yoo Joonghyuk. I’m sure he’ll be eager to help you get familiarized.” Baram laughed loudly to himself, as if he’d just told the best joke known to mankind. “I’m sure you’ve heard of him?” 

“Yes, I’ve seen him here and there,” he lied. It probably wouldn’t give the best impression to say that before yesterday, he’d never heard of the guy in his life. While doing his research last night though, he did see the name pop up several times so he definitely believed that this Yoo Joonghyuk character was a big deal. 

The elevator doors slid open and they walked into yet another polished lobby. This time, the front desk had the company logo, NEBULA, brightly emblazoned across it. But that was not what caught Dokja’s eyes first.

His sight landed on the tall man dressed in all black, leaning leisurely against the table. His dark hair curved, obscuring his face as he was slightly tilted away, chatting amiably with the receptionist. 

“Speaking of our superstar, here he is!” Baram exclaimed, striding over with Dokja trailing behind. 

Yoo Joonghyuk turned to face them and his expression, previously mild whilst in conversation with the receptionist, immediately shuttered into something cold and detached. He glanced over at Dokja and gave a slight frown. Dokja involuntarily looked away, feeling a bit intimidated. He wasn’t sure what most professional gamers looked like, it’s not as if he was expecting them to all resemble malnutritioned basement dwellers, but he definitely was not expecting Yoo Joonghyuk to look like that.  

Yoo Joonghyuk crossed his arms, his broad back straightening as he stood up fully.

“Who’s this?” His voice was baritone and quietly sonorous. His tone however, gave away that he couldn’t care less about who this was. 

“I’m Kim Dokja. Nice to meet you.” Dokja stuck out his hand, smiled, and forced himself to give full eye contact despite the clear disdainful look that was currently being aimed at him. He had worked with difficult people before - he wouldn’t let it get to him. That being said, he had never worked with someone who’s face looked molded by the stars themselves but nevertheless, Dokja was a professional. 

Yoo Joonghyuk looked as if he’d rather touch radioactive waste but after a moment of tense silence, reluctantly returned the gesture, his hand dwarfing his. 

“He’s from Eden Magazine, remember?” Baram reminded. “They’re working on a piece about us and it’ll especially be featuring you. Dokja-ssi is going to be shadowing you for the next three weeks so make sure to treat him well.”

Dokja was slowly beginning to understand why Baram had laughed so hard earlier at the idea of Yoo Joonghyuk helping him out. 

The gamer gritted his teeth and glared at him as if this was somehow his idea. Dokja continued to smile politely but cursed Uriel quietly in his mind. What had she gotten him into? 

Baram glanced at his watch and looked over at Dokja slightly apologetically.

“I’ve got a sponsor meeting now, so I’ll leave you to it. Editor-nim told me that you work best left to your own devices so feel free to roam around the office and speak to people. Just make sure to keep your guest badge on you.” 

As he walked off into the hallway, he also left a parting message to Yoo Joonghyuk. “Please show Dokja-ssi around. And be nice.” 

The doors closed behind him and the lobby was suddenly soundless. Just as Dokja cleared his throat and was about to ask Yoo Joonghyuk a standard introductory question, the receptionist spoke up. 

“Nice to meet you, Dokja-ssi. I’m Lee Seolhwa.” She stood up, brushing back her pale luminous hair to shake his hand. Her red lips curved up in warm smile. 

Dokja greeted her pleasantly and wondered absently if Nebula had some policy to only hire people who looked like models.

“If you need help with anything these next few weeks, you can let me know. Especially if you’re having trouble with this one,” she nudged Yoo Joonghyuk good-naturedly. The man gave a little grumble but didn’t say anything else. 

Given the lack of venom he directed at her, perhaps they were dating. Dokja solemnly decided in his head that it only made sense, also it was probably very difficult for these two to find anyone else on their level looks-wise. 

“Thank you, I apologize ahead for the inconvenience then,” Dokja replied graciously. “It’ll probably take a few days for me to find my way around the office.” 

Lee Seolhwa waved a slender hand, indicating that it was no trouble. 

“Follow me,” Yoo Joonghyuk suddenly commanded. He turned down the hallway without warning and disappeared. 

Dokja quickly bowed to Seolhwa in parting and went after his interviewee. The man's strides were infuriatingly big and Dokja had to speed walk in order not to lose him. He made sure to keep his breathing even though, for some reason he didn’t want to give Yoo Joonghyuk the satisfaction of hearing him struggle to keep up. 

Yoo Joonghyuk took him through what was probably the quickest office tour to ever exist. It consisted of one word explanations: 

“Desks.” 

“Kitchen.”

“Meeting rooms.” 

“Training.” 

The entire Nebula office took up two floors of the building and so it certainly wasn’t small by any measure. But miraculously, it only took them approximately 4 minutes to speed run the entire thing. 

They stopped in front of a closed door. 

“That’s it,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, deadpan. 

“Thanks! That was… great,” Dokja told him enthusiastically. “You’re a really good guide.” 

The other scowled at him but stayed silent. Apparently he didn’t deign Dokja worthy of a response.

“So what’s next on our schedule for today?” Dokja shifted his bag on his shoulder. He was an experienced reporter, and would not be daunted by a few scary looks on Joonghyuk’s extremely handsome face. 

“It’s time for me to stream,” he grunted. Before Dokja could even react, Yoo Joonghyuk’s back retreated into the dark room in front of him and promptly shut the door in his face. 

“Rude bastard,” he muttered under his breath. It seemed Yoo Joonghyuk forgot that he was supposed to be shadowing him on the job. 

He was tempted for a moment to bang on the door and force his way in, but decided against it. He would have plenty of time in the next three weeks to glean some sort of story from Yoo Joonghyuk but if the latter wanted to minimize their contact, that was fine by him. The gamer came across as just another arrogant and difficult celebrity - which Dokja had seen plenty of times before when he had been younger and forced to pick up tabloid work to make ends meet. 

Uriel had also said that he should shine plenty of light on the company itself. Dokja looked around and decided that he’d make use of his time and introduce himself to the other employees at Nebula. During their quick office tour earlier, if it could generously be called that, he hadn’t had time to greet anyone. 

Over the next few hours he idly chatted with whoever he saw was free around the office, making notes as he went along. Everyone was relatively nice and polite, but the conversations never lasted too long as they all seemed quite busy. Despite this being a glitzy esports company, Dokja felt that it wasn’t dissimilar to any other corporate environment he’d been in before. Except for the gamers themselves, all the other employees had pretty mundane jobs. 

Kids must imagine Nebula as being such a cool place to work at, he mused to himself over his lunch break. Dokja had stepped out for a quick meal at the convenience store downstairs. He flipped through his notes, already starting to structure out the article in his head. In the end, an esports company was still a business like any other. It was almost… boring. Dokja grimaced a little at the prospect of the next three weeks stuck in a dull office with an eternally glowering gaming star. 

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” A youthful voice laced with annoyance broke him out of his reverie. 

Dokja looked over from where he was sitting to the drinks aisle. 

There was a teenage girl, tall and lanky for her age, with dark hair tied up into a ponytail. She was standing menacingly over a shorter boy with glasses, around the same age as her. Both their hands were currently on the same banana milk container. 

“I-I’m just getting some banana milk,” the boy stuttered.

“This is mine. I reached for it first,” she declared, tightening her grip on the bottle. Dokja peered over and saw that there was only one left on the shelf. 

The boy looked intimidated, clearly thinking about shirking away but he glanced at the milk and seemed unwilling to give it up. 

“I’m pretty sure I got there faster,” the boy argued, afraid yet somewhat stubborn. The girl’s face twisted into an angry scowl, amusingly very reminiscent of Yoo Joonghyuk.

She opened her mouth but before she could go on a tirade, Dokja stepped in and handed the banana milk that he had just purchased a few minutes prior to the boy.

“Here, you can have mine. No need to fight.” 

The boy took it with wide eyes and quickly thanked him. He scampered off before the girl could harass him further. 

She turned to Dokja, hand on her hip. The name tag on her high school uniform read Lee Jihye. 

“What’d you poke your nose in for, ahjussi?” she asked, giving him a dirty look. 

“You can have your banana milk now, can’t you?” Dokja replied simply, sitting back down to finish his food. “And you were being a bully.” 

“A bully?” she gasped, offended somehow. “I was just standing up for myself, like my master always tells me to.” 

Did this girl practice martial arts or something? Dokja eyed her warily. Who in the world still called anyone master? 

“Somehow, I doubt your master means fighting with someone in the convenience store over a container of banana milk,” he said dryly, eating his last piece of kimbap. “Aren’t you a bit too old for that anyway?” 

“Aren’t you too old to be sitting alone eating lunch in a convenience store?” she crossed her arms snarkily. 

Dokja’s mouth gaped open, spluttering. Before he could think of an appropriate response, Lee Jihye grabbed the banana milk and disappeared towards the front counter. 

Feeling thoroughly burned, from a high school student no less, he sulkily cleaned up the remains of his lunch and tossed it in the trash. This was his reward for trying to be a good samaritan. He should’ve known better than to get involved; everyone knew that high school kids were the scariest species of them all. 

The store’s door dinged as he left and he slowly, somewhat reluctantly, headed back towards the entrance of the office building. He realized suddenly that he was walking directly behind the girl. 

She seemed to notice at the same time and whirled around.

“Hey, ahjussi. You’re not stalking me are you?” she demanded. “I’ll call my master and he’ll come beat you up.” 

“No, this is just the direction I’m going,” he said defensively, once again feeling wrongfully attacked. “Who is your master anyway and why would you call him over the police?” 

“He’s the best professional gamer in the country,” she exclaimed proudly. At that moment, both of them stopped in front of the office doors. 

The best gamer in the country…?

“Don’t tell me your master is-”

“Master!” Jihye’s shout of excitement interrupted his question. Dokja turned around to see Yoo Joonghyuk striding out of the building, this time with a black overcoat on.

“Kim Dokja,” he said with a glare, stopping in front of them. Dokja raised an eyebrow, honestly surprised he even remembered his name. 

“Nice to see you again Yoo Joonghyuk. How did your stream go?” he asked cheerfully. Jihye looked between them in confusion.

“Master, you know this ahjussi?” she asked.

Yoo Joonghyuk ignored her question and continued to look at Dokja as if he was some irritating bug stuck on his windshield. “What are you doing here?”

“Well as you know, I was tasked to write an article about you and your company,” Dokja explained slowly, as if to a child. 

“I’ll be here for three more weeks, following you around and getting to know you really well,” he continued earnestly. Yoo Joonghyuk’s jaw twitched in annoyance and Dokja felt quite pleased with himself. 

“Ahjussi, you’re a reporter that’s here to interview master?” Jihye asked him, clearly not getting any answers from the other man. Dokja nodded. 

“You should interview me too! I’m a trainee under Nebula,” she proclaimed, delighted. “After a few more months of training, I’m going to be debuting in their new junior team.” 

No wonder she called him master, although it was still slightly weird and archaic. 

“As long as you don’t accuse me of being a stalker again, I’d be happy to interview you,” Dokja told her magnanimously, glad to be gathering back some semblance of the respect and authority he was meant to hold as an adult. 

“It’s not my fault you have a creepy face,” she muttered.

Dokja once again found himself gaping like a fish. Ignoring him, she turned back to Yoo Joonghyuk. 

“See you later master! Manager-nim wants me in the training room in ten minutes for practice, so I have to go.” With that, she ran off through the doors. 

Yoo Joonghyuk watched him with disinterest as Dokja tried to recover from the second blow to his ego within the past hour. 

“Kids these days,” he laughed weakly, elbowing the other man. Yoo Joonghyuk leaned away sharply from the touch. 

“I’m leaving,” Joonghyuk told him emotionlessly. He strode away before Dokja could question him. 

He looked down at the time in confusion - it was only 3pm, why was he already leaving work? Perhaps professional gamers worked a much more lax schedule than the rest of them. Or perhaps he just couldn’t wait to get away from Dokja. 

He frowned at that thought. While he was under no impression that he was the most scintillating company to be around, he also didn’t think he was that bad. 

Dokja sighed and cursed Uriel once again in his mind. This must’ve been some sick scheme concocted by her, creating a story for him to work on with what had to be some of the least mannered people he had ever met in his life. 

Seeing as the leading subject of his article had left and he had already done a good amount of interviews of the other employees that morning, Dokja decided he might as well call it a day. He still had more industry research to conduct, but that could be done from home. 

At the very least, at home there would be peace and nobody around to make him question his existence. 

-

He had spoken much too soon. 

Not even fifteen minutes after Dokja had set his bag down and plopped onto the couch, a relentless pounding began at his door. With a sigh, he dragged himself back up and opened it.

“Hi ahjussi!” A familiar set of large brown doe eyes stared up at him with excitement. It was his downstairs neighbours’ kid, Shin Yoosung. She had a tendency to come knocking on his door any time she was feeling particularly bored and looking for entertainment.

“Hello Yoosung, how are you today?”

“Good! Gilyoung’s here too,” she announced before leisurely walking in as if it was her own home. 

“Hi hyung!” The aforementioned boy appeared from behind her and gave Dokja a wide smile. He was from three floors down and these two were always hanging around each other. 

“Have you written any more articles about insects recently?” he asked eagerly, eyes full of hope. Ever since Dokja had interviewed one of his favourite scientists, Lee Gilyoung had taken a particular attachment to him and his work. Dokja shook his head and gave an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry Gilyoung, I haven’t. But if I do, you’ll be the first to know.” The little boy had a slight look of disappointment, but it quickly disappeared as he took the news in stride. 

“That’s ok! If you ever need help, I have lots of ideas about things you could write about.” 

“Nobody cares about bugs, idiot. Ahjussi isn’t going to write about something people don’t care about,” Yoosung piped in, face scrunched up in disdain. 

“That’s not true! What do you know anyway?” Gilyoung shot back. 

“More than you!” 

“As if!”

The bickering continued and Dokja simply ignored it, drifting towards the kitchen to pull out snacks from the cupboard that he usually kept on hand for the kids. He had long since learned that there was no point in trying to intervene in an argument between those two. 

With the food set in front of them, their argument quickly shifted into clamouring over who got what. 

“How’s school been?” Dokja asked, settling down beside them once they quieted again, if only because they were too busy munching away on Pepero. 

“Good!” 

“Ugh.” 

Their contrasting answers resounded simultaneously. 

“There’s a new girl in our class this year!” Yoosung prattled, ignoring Gilyoung’s sullen face at the mention of school. “She seems nice. But she brags about her brother too much.”

She went on to diligently relay all the latest gossip happening in their fourth grade classroom while Gilyoung chimed in here and there to complain about all the homework assignments they’d been getting recently. 

As much as he didn’t want to admit, Dokja enjoyed having them over and hearing about all their small joys and disappointments. While he certainly didn’t miss his own childhood, he liked hearing about theirs. 

After it seemed like they finally ran out of things to chatter about however many hours later, Dokja got up and went to wash his hands in preparation for dinner. 

“I’m going to be making food now, do you want to stay?” he called out, drying himself with a dish towel. Stepping back out into the living room, he caught the two sneaking towards the door with apprehensive looks on their faces. He put his hand on his hip and gave them a raised eyebrow. 

“It’s okay ahjussi, we should probably get going,” Yoosung said, exchanging eye contact with her friend. 

“Sorry hyung, my mom will get mad if I have ramyeon for dinner again,” Gilyoung confessed guiltily. Yoosung hit his arm but then nodded in agreement. 

Dokja opened his mouth in protest but then decided against using the argument that actually he’d picked up microwave pasta from the convenience store today, not instant noodles. 

“Your mom is smart then,” he said instead, reminding himself that he was meant to be the adult figure here. Dokja ruffled both their hairs as they said goodbye at the door. 

Before running off, Yoosung whirled around with an earnest face. 

“Ahjussi, you should get a girlfriend soon. Then you don’t have to eat ramyeon by yourself every night.” Flashing him a cherubic smile, she then disappeared down the stairs.

Dokja’s eye twitched as he returned inside. It seemed that this day was not yet quite finished with testing him.

Chapter Text

That weekend, Kim Dokja went to meet Jung Heewon at a pocha in Seongsu. She was also apparently bringing along her boyfriend who had just come back from deployment. 

While Dokja generally didn’t enjoy going out, he felt the need to prove to Han Sooyoung that he did, in fact, have friends outside of her. Anyhow, Heewon was probably one of the only people he’d met through his work that he liked enough to spend time with post article publishment. Not to mention, she was also the type of woman who didn’t take no for an answer. 

“Dokja!” Heewon waved her arm vigorously from across the bar the moment he stepped inside the dimly lit establishment. He walked over and greeted her. 

“This is Hyunsung,” she introduced, patting a well-muscled arm of the large man beside her. He was handsome and clean-shaven, hair cropped short in typical military style. Contrary to his intimidating physical stature, his face wore a gentle, almost shy expression. 

“Nice to finally meet you Lee Hyunsung-ssi, Heewon has told me a lot about you,” Dokja shook his hand politely before taking a seat across from the couple. It was a bit of a twist of truth, mostly Heewon had just complained about how much he was away and how excited she was that he was finally being reassigned to Seoul.

“Dokja is the journalist I told you about. We met while he was doing a story on the history of martial arts in Korea,” Heewon explained to her boyfriend. 

A few months ago, Dokja had been looking for candidates to interview with extensive martial arts background and came across Jung Heewon, who came from a long line of practitioners. There weren’t many people these days who still had ties to these types of clans, which were usually now seen as quite archaic, so it was a lucky find on his end. That being said, Heewon had a complicated relationship with her family - she’d mostly cut ties with them when she moved from the countryside to Seoul to open her own kendo school. On some level, Dokja felt an affinity with her because of that reason. 

“I think it’s amazing that you’re a journalist. I’ve always had such a deep respect for that line of work,” Hyunsung exclaimed with sincerity, his eyes wide and heartfelt. Dokja idly wondered where Heewon had found such a large puppy dog of a man. 

“Hyunsung-ssi is too kind. It’s nothing compared to being a soldier,” Dokja smiled back. “My army days were probably some of the hardest times of my life.” 

Dokja meant it. Thinking back, he had felt more out of place in the army than even high school or middle school - which was a very, very low bar. The only thing that kept him sane at the time were Han Sooyoung’s silly little web novels. 

Hyunsung rubbed his nose sheepishly at the compliment. 

“I suppose it’s not a life for everyone,” he admitted. “But I enjoy the structured, orderly environment.” 

They continued to chat while Heewon ordered a round of soju and beer, along with several plates of food. Hyunsung was easy-going and talkative, and Dokja could see why the two were such a good pair. With Heewon’s blunt and straight-forward attitude, they complimented each other well. 

"How's the planning going for the new location?" Dokja asked Heewon. She'd been working on opening up a second school in the city. 

"Augh," she gave an annoyed scoff. "I'm still trying to finalize the floorplans. But hopefully we can start the renovations by next month." 

"It's very exciting," Hyunsung gave his girlfriend a bright smile. "She's been working really hard." 

She gave a little chuckle, cheeks turning pink and quickly turned her attention back to Dokja. 

“How about you? What’s new with work these days?” she asked, popping a piece of rice cake into her mouth. 

“Uriel’s got me on an esports industry piece. I’m working with a large gaming star for the next couple of weeks,” Dokja responded mildly, deciding not to launch into a rant about the rather rocky start he'd had.  

“Esports is so big these days,” Heewon commented thoughtfully. “Not that I know much about it, but my students are always chattering during break time about this or that game.” 

Hyunsung nodded in agreement. “Actually, one of my closest friends is a professional gamer. He’s gotten really successful these last couple years, it's pretty crazy."

“Oh right, that guy,” Heewon shook her head. “He’s built quite the legion of fans, hasn’t he?” 

“Maybe I can introduce him to Dokja-ssi,” Hyunsung suggested. “It could be helpful for the article if you need an extra perspective." 

At this idea, Heewon seemed to be reminded of something. "Well, isn't he coming next week?"

She turned to Dokja and quirked a grin. "We're having a little dinner party, you should come. While I don't know if you'd get along with his friend - he can be a bit of a jerk - it should be a fun time anyway."

Hyunsung nodded with enthusiasm. “Dokja-ssi, if you’re free I’d love for you to come. It won’t be too large, it's just a couple of our close friends coming around to celebrate my reassignment."  

“That’s very kind of you to invite me. I’ll check my schedule to see if I can make it,” Dokja replied politely. While he most certainly did not have any plans next weekend, there were very few things he could imagine wanting to do less than going to an intimate dinner gathering where he knew none of the guests, one of whom was also apparently a jackass.

Jung Heewon narrowed her eyes at his words, as if she knew he was just going to come up with an excuse to turn down their invitation. 

“You can bring Han Sooyoung if you want,” she added.

“Of course, please bring your girlfriend,” Hyunsung agreed.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Dokja quickly clarified.

“Oh okay. Either way, she’s welcome as well! Feel free to bring anyone you’d like,” Hyunsung said earnestly. In contrast to her boyfriend’s open expression, Heewon looked at him with expectant, demanding eyes. 

“Thank you for the invite. I’ll let you know this week,” Dokja repeated, trying his best to ignore the daggers she was shooting him. 

Hyunsung nodded while Heewon still looked dissatisfied with his answer, but luckily the conversation moved on. Dokja was surely going to get some choice words from her later on when he inevitably came up with a reason to turn down the offer, but at least it would only be over text. 

A few rounds of drinks later, the three of them decided to call it a night. They shared goodbyes and Dokja headed away separately. It was late and the subway had stopped running, so he hailed down a taxi instead.

After telling the driver his address, Dokja settled into his seat and pulled out his phone to call Sooyoung. He felt overwarm from the alcohol and rolled down the window a bit as the phone rang. She picked up quickly.  

“What do you want?” Sooyoung asked brusquely. 

“Hi to you too.” 

“How was drinks?” she questioned, ignoring his snark. 

“It was fun. Her boyfriend’s really nice, seems like a good guy,” he replied, resting his head back to lazily watch the passing cityscape outside. 

“You’re not thinking of stealing him are you?” she goaded. Dokja snorted at her idea of a joke. 

“As if any person would be worth incurring the wrath of Jung Heewon. I value my life at least that much, you know.” 

Sooyoung cackled in his ear. He could hear the faint noise of typing in the background - she must've be working on her next chapter. 

“Oh, they invited me to some sort of dinner party at their place next weekend. They said you could come too.” 

“And you said no.” She said this as more of a statement than a question.

“Not yet, but probably.” 

There was a pause on her end, as if she was thinking. 

“Let’s go,” she declared after a moment. 

“What, why? You’ve only met Heewon once and it’s not exactly like you two hit it off that well,” Dokja balked, thinking back to the brief introduction he'd made when him and Sooyoung had happened to run into the other woman at a restaurant awhile ago. While he wouldn’t say they didn’t get along, their similarly obstinate temperaments certainly clashed.

“I’m bored,” Sooyoung answered plainly. “It’s going to be the first weekend in weeks that I don’t have work. Let’s just go and have some fun.” 

"We can do something else," he grumbled. "This is a close friends affair - which we are not."

"If it was a huge party, you'd hate it even more," she pointed out.

Dokja groaned, but couldn't argue with that. At least if Sooyoung came with him, he’d have someone to talk to. 

“Anyway, aren’t you always telling me how you definitely have friends who aren’t me? It’s time for you to show off those impeccable social skills,” she taunted. 

“If you don’t recall, it’s me who got invited to this, not you so– “ Dokja’s retort was cut off as he was suddenly distracted by something that caught his eye outside the window. 

The taxi stopped at a red light, pulling up next to a small park with a playground. It was late and so it was no surprise the park was deserted - save for two figures. There was a little girl, hair tied up in pigtails, sitting on the swing. Behind her was a tall man dressed in a black overcoat, pushing her. Even in the dim street light, Dokja could see the sharp lines of the man’s face, which looked suspiciously familiar.

Was that… Yoo Joonghyuk? Dokja tried to peer closer, bewildered. The girl opened her mouth in laughter as the man pushed her higher, the silvery sound floating in through Dokja’s open window. 

The light turned green and his driver quickly sped forward, leaving the park behind before he could confirm the stranger’s identity. 

“Hello?” Sooyoung’s demanding voice was still coming out of his phone speaker. Dokja shook his head and rubbed his eyes. 

“Sorry, I’m still here,” he finally answered. “I thought I saw something outside, but I’m pretty sure I’m just drunk.” 

It was probably just a random father taking his daughter out for a late night walk. Why would Yoo Joonghyuk be in a park at 1am pushing a child on a swing? 

“So you’re finally losing it, huh?” Sooyoung scoffed. “You’ve lasted longer than I honestly thought you would.” 

Dokja rolled his eyes but smiled, bickering with her for the rest of his ride home. 

Chapter Text

The weekend passed all too quickly and on Monday morning, Dokja unwillingly found himself once again standing in the lobby of Nebula. 

He had checked in with Uriel that morning to see if there were any story leads that had been added to his plate, hoping he could push this one off for something else. To his disappointment, she seemed singularly focused on ensuring that Dokja worked on this story, and only this story. He secretly wondered if she had secured some sort of spectacularly lucrative sponsorship deal with Nebula. 

“Good morning Dokja-ssi!” Lee Seolhwa greeted him cheerfully. She was wearing a maroon skirt and blazer set, bringing a glow to her porcelain skin. What kind of human looked this flawless first thing Monday morning, Dokja wondered. It was no wonder even a stone-cold man like Yoo Joonghyuk had fallen in love. 

“Good morning Seolhwa-ssi,” he smiled back. “Do you know where I can find Yoo Joonghyuk? I’m hoping to do some observing on the job today.” 

“I saw him earlier go into the big conference room just around the corner. Perhaps you can find him there,” she answered helpfully. 

Thanking her, he quickly headed towards the direction she’d pointed. Approaching the slightly ajar door, he could hear raised voices inside. 

“This is in your contract Joonghyuk. Like it or not, this is part of your job,” a stern voice rang out. It sounded familiar, most likely Baram’s. 

“I’m here to win competitions for you, not babysit some reporter.” This time it was definitely Yoo Joonghyuk, his voice low and laced with frustration. 

Ah, Dokja thought to himself. So they were arguing about him. He frowned lightly, feeling offended and also strangely a bit hurt - did Yoo Joonghyuk really hate him that much? They had barely exchanged words, surely he hadn’t done anything to cross him that much. 

“Don’t get cocky,” Baram reprimanded. “You’re only just now starting to scratch the top ten list of streamers in terms of brand value, despite being in this space for almost 8 years. You have potential to be at the top no doubt, but it requires continued exposure. For you and for Nebula.”

Kim Dokja couldn’t hear any audible response from Yoo Joonghyuk, but could imagine what kind of scary expression he was probably wearing at that moment. 

Baram opened the conference room door to leave before Dokja could react or at the very least pretend that he wasn’t eavesdropping. He froze as two pairs of eyes set upon him. Both men inside the room looked taken aback, although Yoo Joonghyuk unsurprisingly had a deep scowl set into his face. 

“Good morning!” Dokja managed out, his voice a pitch higher than normal. 

Yoo Joonghyuk looked away but Baram gave him a calm smile, as if they hadn’t just caught Dokja listening in on their conversation about him. 

“Good morning Dokja-ssi. I hope you had a restful weekend.”

He nodded, face still a bit flushed from being caught. Baram glanced back at Yoo Joonghyuk but then stepped out the door, past Dokja. 

“I’ll let you two get on with your day then, Joonghyuk can show you what his daily schedule looks like. Let me know if you need anything Dokja-ssi.” With another polite smile, Baram disappeared towards his corner office. 

With his manager gone, Yoo Joonghyuk turned to face Dokja and regarded him with a cocked eyebrow. 

“Do you enjoy listening to other people’s conversations?” He crossed his arms and the black button-down shirt he was wearing stretched around them. Dokja’s face reddened with embarrassment again, but he tilted his head up defiantly. 

“I can’t block out sound on demand when you’re speaking so loud - with the door open, no less.”

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t reply but instead eyed him as if he was inspecting something. Dokja imagined this was probably how an exterminator observed a cockroach they were about to obliterate. He was tempted to make a petty comment about not needing to be “babysat” but bit his tongue - he was on the job after all. Instead, he walked closer to Yoo Joonghyuk and put on the most sugary grin he could muster. 

“So Yoo Joonghyuk-ssi, what are we doing today?” Dokja patted his notebook meaningfully. Yoo Joonghyuk looked at him as if he had just asked him to walk across hot coals. 

“Video review,” the seemingly permanently frowning man responded after a moment of silence. Dokja nodded and gestured for him to lead the way. 

The rest of the morning went by without a hitch. They spent about an hour with one of the head coaches, reviewing footage from one of Yoo Joonghyuk’s latest competitions and strategizing on improvements that could be made. From Dokja’s untrained point of view, Yoo Joonghyuk already seemed incredibly impressive in all the videos - he was consistently able to come out on top in the rounds. Dokja was more surprised by how diligent he was in the session, dutifully noting down everything the coach pointed out. 

Afterwards, Joonghyuk’s schedule was penned for team practice. Dokja had already met a couple of the other members scattered around the office the week prior, but it was the first time seeing them all gathered together. They were friendly - it seemed he had really lucked out being assigned to shadow the one with the worst attitude. The youngest team member was a hyperactive and foul-mouthed teenager named Kim Namwoon, he was fresh out of high school and sported a shock of bleached white hair. Dokja noticed that he seemed to stick around Yoo Joonghyuk a lot, always babbling about something next to the stoic man despite getting very little reaction from the latter. 

It was a bit cute the way it seemed many of the juniors looked up to Yoo Joonghyuk, vying for his attention and approval. Too bad their adoration was sorely misplaced on such a sour figure. 

During practice, Yoo Joonghyuk took the lead in-game by giving orders and asserting the positions each person would take. However, it was also clear that he had strong trust in his team as he never overstepped, and consciously allowed them to strategize and adapt as they saw fit. 

It really was much more like a sport than Dokja had ever imagined, furiously taking notes as he watched with fascination the team dynamics play before his eyes. This was his favourite part about his job: watching the stories of people spool out before him through his observations of them. 

Anna Croft, the American recruit and the only foreigner on the team, was a shrewd strategist and merciless in her gameplay. In terms of skill, she was only second to Yoo Joonghyuk. 

Jang Hayoung was a strong support player, often the one to assist her team members when they were cornered. However, she excelled solo as well - bringing out a bright ferocity against opponents. 

Kim Namwoon was a relentless and aggressive force of nature himself. Within the team, he often played at the front, madly gunning down enemies and striking fear in their heart. 

And lastly there was Yoo Joonghyuk. Although Dokja had very little experience playing video games, he could imagine it must be terrifying to face off against him. Yoo Joonghyuk had a domineering air that emanated even in-game. He was an all-rounder - precise and deadly in everything he did.  

In the practice room, Dokja split his attention between the large projector screen at the front, which was providing a full view of everything happening virtually, and Yoo Joonghyuk. Seeing as he was the star of the story that Dokja was meant to write, he figured he should pay him extra attention. 

But it was also hard not to watch Yoo Joonghyuk. He wore an expression that Dokja had not yet seen from him until now. He looked immensely concentrated, brows slightly wrinkling each time he readied a particularly difficult shot. However, his eyes were ever calm, never faltering even when the team struggled, as if he knew he was fully in control. Dokja noticed small upward twitches of his mouth when they won, while the rest of the team cheered and whooped. That bastard did feel fun and happiness like the rest of them it seemed, it just pained him to show it. Satisfied that he had discovered this hidden part of the aloof gamer, Dokja smirked to himself. 

As if feeling his gaze on him, Yoo Joonghyuk turned to stare him down. He narrowed his eyes, suspicious of the amused smile that Dokja was wearing. In response, Dokja widened his smile even more and gave him a cheeky thumbs up in celebration of their win. 

Yoo Joonghyuk grimaced and returned his attention to the game as they started up a new round, this time 2v2 to play against each other. 

Lunch time rolled around and Dokja watched as the teammates left to eat, bantering lightly with each other. 

“Aren’t you going to join them?” he asked, sidling up next to Yoo Joonghyuk as he packed away his headset. 

“No.” 

“Why not? Surely a gaming god such as yourself needs to eat as well?” Dokja teased. The god in question gave him a glare, but having been on the receiving end of these looks all day, it was losing its scariness. 

“I prefer to eat at home.” 

Dokja gave him a questioning look, but Joonghyuk didn’t elaborate. What kind of strange and paranoid notions did this man have that compelled him to starve himself? 

“But you don’t leave work for another few hours at least,” Dokja said, glancing at his watch. Pondering for a moment, he quickly made a decision. 

“Come on, I know a really great dumpling place nearby,” he motioned for Yoo Joonghyuk to follow him.

He didn’t move. “No.”

Dokja huffed and grabbed him by the crook of his arm, pulling him forwards. “I promise, it's really good. Probably the best in Seoul!” 

Yoo Joonghyuk shook his hand off with a disdainful look. “Don’t touch me.”

“Don’t worry Yoo Joonghyuk,” Dokja rolled his eyes. “I don’t have any ill intentions toward you. Just a friendly, harmless reporter trying to be your friend so that the next couple weeks aren’t like pulling teeth for either of us.” 

“We’re not going to be friends,” Yoo Joonghyuk growled. 

Dokja just gave a little chuckle. “Alright, fine. How about if you come with me, I won’t try to be your friend anymore. Fair?”

After a bit more back and forth, he finally pestered him enough to give in. 

Dokja led them to a tiny restaurant a few blocks away, the inside of which barely fit four tables. He hadn’t lied, this really was his favourite mandu spot in the city. It was one he had visited with Sooyoung a lot when they were younger and barely scraping by. In fact, one of her earliest novels that became a hit was formulated at that exact little stained table by the window. The two of them had been sitting across from each other, coming up with the craziest ideas they could think of and neither of them had known that she would soon blow up to become the biggest web novelist in South Korea. Dokja’s mouth quirked up at the memory. He could never tell her that he was reminiscing on their old days so fondly, she’d never let him hear the end of it. 

“What are you smiling for?” came an impatient voice next to him. Dokja jumped a bit, forgetting that he was here with Yoo Joonghyuk of all people. 

“Nothing,” Dokja waved cheerfully. “Come on.” 

He slid into the aforementioned table next to the window and Yoo Joonghyuk followed suit, sitting across from him. 

“Dokja-yah! It’s been a while since you stopped by,” an energetic elderly lady popped out of the kitchen, her smile so wide her eyes were crinkled into crescents. 

“Nice to see you, halmeoni. How have you been?” Dokja took her outstretched hands and gave them a little squeeze. It was nice that she still remembered him. 

“Same as always, you know,” she gestured around. Her eyes landed on Yoo Joonghyuk’s expressionless face. At least he wasn’t scowling, it seemed he had some semblance of manners after all. 

“Where’s Sooyoung-ie? And who’s this handsome friend you have with you?” Yoo Joonghyuk’s jaw twitched ever so slightly at the word friend and Dokja fought to keep in a laugh.

“Sooyoung’s busy these days with her writing,” he explained. “She’s gotten very successful and it’s all thanks to your dumplings that kept us fed!” Halmeoni laughed with pleasure. 

“And this-,” Dokja paused to look at the man across from him with comically widened eyes, “is my very good friend Yoo Joonghyuk.” 

His very good friend looked like he wanted to throttle him. 

“Nice to meet you Joonghyuk-ah. Any friend of Dokja is a welcome guest here,” Halmeoni said cheerfully. “Let me know what you boys want and I’ll make sure to throw in some extras.”

Seeing that Yoo Joonghyuk likely wasn’t going to speak up, Dokja ordered for both of them. 

The food came quickly, warm tendrils curling up from the freshly steamed dumplings. 

Starving, Dokja grabbed a kimchi and pork mandu and bit into it ravenously. He immediately spat it back out, yelping from the burn on his tongue. He blew on it impatiently, then stuffed it back in while fanning his mouth in between chews to cool the food down. Yoo Joonghyuk watched him with disgust. 

“This is the best way to eat dumplings, don’t you know?” Dokja grinned, and quickly reached his chopsticks out to take another. Seeing as the other still hadn’t moved, Dokja took the liberty of placing a couple dumplings on his plate for him. 

“Eat up,” Dokja urged. “I promise they’re good.” 

As if this experience was entirely excruciating for him, Yoo Joonghyuk reluctantly took up his chopsticks and raised one of the pieces towards his mouth. Dokja watched as he took a small, delicate bite. Juxtaposed with his broad figure, it was an amusing sight. 

“Well?” he questioned. Yoo Joonghyuk chewed on the bite slowly, and then swallowed. 

“It’s decent,” the man finally answered, slightly begrudgingly. 

“Just decent? Don’t let halmeoni hear you,” Dokja joked. Nevertheless, he smiled with satisfaction, this was probably the closest Yoo Joonghyuk would get to giving a full compliment. 

“I can make them better,” Yoo Joonghyuk said casually, finishing the rest of the dumpling. 

“Somehow I don’t believe you.” Dokja doubted that Yoo Joonghyuk even knew how to cook rice, much less fold dumplings. Didn’t rich and famous people like him have personal chefs or something? Han Sooyoung definitely never cooked these days, she only ate takeout. 

“Believe what you want.” 

“You’ll just have to prove me wrong,” Dokja twirled his chopsticks cheekily. 

They continued to eat and Dokja watched with vindication as Yoo Joonghyuk munched away at the dumplings, clearly enjoying them despite his face giving nothing away. 

“So what made you get into gaming?” Dokja asked as he moved on to the plate of vegetable mandu. 

“Why?” Yoo Joonghyuk shot back suspiciously. 

Dokja gave a withering look. “Did you forget why I’m here in the first place? What kind of story do you expect me to write if you give me no information about yourself?” 

Yoo Joonghyuk glowered. “Shut up.” 

“I’ll shut up, if you answer my question,” he replied sweetly. Silence ensued, with Yoo Joonghyuk continuing to eye him with murderous intent. Just as Dokja was about to give up on getting any sort of response from him, he spoke up. 

“It was a good way to make money.” 

“Lots of jobs make money,” Dokja challenged. “Why gaming?”

There was another pause before the answer came. “It was a good way to make money young.” 

Dokja tilted his head at this explanation, curiosity piqued. However, he decided not to press as Yoo Joonghyuk was clenching his jaw so hard he was worried the man was going to pop a joint. 

“But do you like it?” Dokja questioned instead. 

“I do.” This time his answer was immediate. 

Dokja nodded. This much he expected. It was clear from watching him at practice earlier that Yoo Joonghyuk did indeed enjoy his work and he was good at it. His natural intensity was well-suited for the cutthroat and fast-paced nature of esports. Additionally, when his focus was singularly on the game, it diffused his usual menacing air and instead replaced it with a kind of captivating charisma that made it hard to look away. During Dokja’s research, he’d read that Yoo Joonghyuk’s live streams usually garnered fifty to sixty thousand viewers at a time, and it wasn’t hard to see why. 

As he was pondering over his next question, Yoo Joonghyuk surprised him by asking a question back. “Why are you a journalist?”  

“Are you curious about me?” Dokja teased, earning a dark look.

“I suppose I just like stories,” he answered after a moment of thinking. “I have ever since I was little.” 

“You could be a fiction writer,” the other pointed out. 

Dokja shook his head and rested his palm on his cheek, plopping another full dumpling into his mouth. 

“No, that doesn’t suit me. I love reading novels but what fascinates me the most is the story behind a person,” he explained. 

Yoo Joonghyuk gave him a look as if he had just told him he enjoyed dissecting small rodents on the weekends for fun. “I suppose that fascination is how you journalists are able to write the most sensational stories.” 

Dokja frowned. “I don’t know about others, but I personally think of myself more like a reader than a writer.”

“How so?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m an author creating the characters and story from nothing. I’m reading stories that already exist - the rest of the world just doesn’t know them yet. And I’m just the one who relays those stories.”

Dokja expected another biting remark from Yoo Joonghyuk, but this time the man only slightly narrowed his eyes and regarded him with an inscrutable expression. Suddenly, he felt strangely embarrassed at having spoken so candidly. 

“Anyway, who’s interviewing who here?” Dokja quipped, eager to turn the conversation away from himself.

He returned to his standard interview questioning, mostly asking about his achievements. Yoo Joonghyuk answered each with flat indifference. 

They polished off the rest of their meal and headed back to the office. On their way, Dokja glanced over the schedule that an assistant had sent him earlier.

“During the afternoons, you usually help with coaching the trainees right?” Dokja asked, slightly out of breath as he speed walked to keep up with the other’s long, purposeful strides. Joonghyuk gave a short nod in response. 

Entering back into the office, they were immediately met by a shrill shout. 

“Master!” Lee Jihye bounded happily over to greet Yoo Joonghyuk. She was still in her uniform, so she must’ve just gotten off school, but she had draped the black and gold Nebula team jacket over her shoulders. 

“Do you have to be so loud?” came Kim Namwoon’s annoyed voice from where he was sitting nearby. 

“Have you ever heard yourself in the middle of a game?” She stuck her tongue out at him, earning a frown from the boy. 

“Anyway, why don’t you ever greet me with that kind of enthusiasm,” he grumbled. Ignoring him, Jihye turned back to them. 

“Ahjussi, you’re here too?” she asked, noticing Kim Dokja standing there as well. 

“Yes, I’m unfortunately stuck with this guy for a bit longer,” he answered, jabbing a thumb in the direction of a probably glowering Joonghyuk. 

“Did you guys just come back from lunch together?” Jihye’s eyes darted between them, slightly accusatory. “Master, you never say yes when I ask you to go eat with me!” 

“Joonghyuk-hyung has better things to do than eat with you,” Kim Namwoon chimed in mockingly. 

Jihye whirled around, her face twisted up in a very familiar scowl. Dokja made a mental note to never let Yoo Joonghyuk near Lee Gilyoung or Shin Yoosung - he was clearly a bad influence on children. 

“Who’s talking to you? Anyway, you’ve only gotten rejected by master too, remember that time-”

“Jihye, it’s time for practice. Namwoon, you’ve got 9 hours of gameplay footage left to review,” Yoo Joonghyuk interrupted, his voice filled with authority but also tiredness, as if this was a regular annoyance he had to deal with. 

Without another word, he left for the trainee practice room. Jihye quickly followed behind in silence, but not without throwing Kim Namwoon one last dirty look. 

In the large room with PCs neatly lined up in rows, most of the young trainees had already arrived. Jihye slipped into her seat at the front and looked eagerly up at Yoo Joonghyuk. Dokja sat down off to the side, pulling out his notebook. 

Yoo Joonghyuk quietly conversed with the other head coach that was at the front before announcing to the students that they’d be working on their solo techniques today. A couple hours passed with Joonghyuk and the other coach mostly walking the class, stopping by each trainee to give guidance and tips. 

Yoo Joonghyuk wore a relaxed expression on his face and was surprisingly gentle as he explained game strategy to the teenagers. When they messed up, he would patiently point out how they could’ve improved, and when a trainee succeeded, he would give them an approving nod. While Lee Jihye was definitely the most excitable and bold out of the bunch, all the trainees held a sort of reverence towards Yoo Joonghyuk and listened with full attention every time he spoke to them. 

Kim Dokja noted this all down with a small smile. Yoo Joonghyuk was panning out to be a more interesting protagonist for the story than he thought.

Chapter Text

Several days later, Dokja had just wrapped up interviewing some of the trainees when he caught Yoo Joonghyuk preparing to leave the office for the day. A quick glance at his watch told him that it was only three o’clock - which was usual as Dokja had learned this was the regular time Yoo Joonghyuk left work. However, it still seemed a bit strange to him considering everyone else, including his teammates, stayed until around five. 

“Hey, Yoo Joonghyuk!” Dokja called out, catching up with him as he was walking out. Yoo Joonghyuk gave him a sideways glance of acknowledgement but didn’t slow down. 

“Why do you always leave earlier than everyone else?” Dokja questioned, genuinely curious. 

“I have things to attend to,” Yoo Joonghyuk said simply, buttoning up his black coat. 

“Wow, it must be nice getting special treatment as the star of Nebula,” he teased, knowing that it would earn him a glare. “Baram is so nice, I wish my boss would let me get off early like that. But I just have to work however many hours it takes to finish whatever crazy story she’s assigned me.”

Speaking of Uriel, he made a mental note to pop into the office soon to give her an update on how the Nebula story was coming along. She’d been texting him periodically to check in, which wasn’t strange in itself, but instead of asking about the story, she had only asked about Yoo Joonghyuk, which was weird. But Uriel has always had incomprehensible whims so Dokja didn’t dwell on it too much. 

“I stream at home to make up for the hours,” Yoo Joonghyuk frowned. 

He suddenly stopped and looked at Kim Dokja strangely.

“What’s wrong?” Dokja asked, wondering if he had something on his face. Then he realized - he had unknowingly followed Yoo Joonghyuk all the way outside and they were now standing in the parking lot, in front of his car. Dokja noted that it was a very nice SUV, black of course, since the bastard was allergic to any sort of colour. 

“Oh! Well, I thought I would come with you today, to whatever errands you needed to run,” Dokja said quickly to cover up his embarrassment of coming all the way out here, although why he would say that he wasn’t sure. 

“No.” Yoo Joonghyuk’s frown grew deeper. 

“It’s for the story! I’m sure readers would be very interested in knowing what your life is like outside of work.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk started walking away from him, towards the driver's door as he unlocked his car with a beep. 

“This is a standard practice at Eden, so that we can really dig into the details of our subjects,” Dokja continued earnestly. While that wasn’t technically true, he felt it made sense in this context considering how central Yoo Joonghyuk was meant to be in the story. 

“Do what you want, Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk muttered, before ducking into his seat and slamming the door. He started the engine and so Dokja scrambled into the passenger’s side before he could drive off without him. 

The car was equally nice on the interior, the chrome detail gleaming. It smelt of new leather and something faintly musky, possibly a cologne that Yoo Joonghyuk used. 

“So where are we heading?” Dokja asked brightly, as Yoo Joonghyuk navigated out of the parking lot.

“To pick up my sister,” he gritted out, clearly irritated that Dokja had actually decided to come. 

“I didn’t know you had siblings. Do you still live with your family?” 

“No.” With that one word, the temperature in the car dropped by several degrees. 

Over the past week, Dokja had realized that while Yoo Joonghyuk was easily perturbed and was possibly one of the rudest people he’d ever met, he was rarely ever genuinely upset. However, there was a cold bitterness in Joonghyuk’s tone just then that stopped him in his tracks. 

“I don’t either,” Dokja decided to say, his voice neutral. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yoo Joonghyuk sneak a glance at him. 

After a while, they pulled up to an elementary school. They watched as a small girl with bouncy pigtails came dashing down the front steps. Even from afar, Dokja could see that she bore a striking resemblance to Yoo Joonghyuk. She had the same clear, sharp features. Oddly enough, she looked familiar. 

“Hey Yoo Joonghyuk, did you happen to be at a park last Saturday at around 1am?” Dokja asked. 

Yoo Joonghyuk looked over at him confused but also alarmed, affirming that Dokja hadn’t been hallucinating that night after all. Before he could answer, his sister ripped open the door and slid inside. 

“Oppa, who’s this?” she asked immediately, her eyes assessing Dokja critically. He looked at her amused.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Kim Dokja,” he smiled. 

“I’m Yoo Mia,” she responded, deadpan. “Are you my brother’s friend?” 

“Yes.”

“No.”

Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk answered simultaneously, then shot each other dirty looks at the conflicting answers. Mia looked between the two of them, confused. 

“I’m a journalist,” Dokja explained instead. “I’m interviewing your brother for an article I’m writing.” With that, the confusion on her face cleared up and was replaced by a proud expression. 

“Oh! That makes sense, because he's the best gamer in the country right?” 

Dokja glanced to his side and saw Yoo Joonghyuk’s mouth twitch up, his eyes watching his sister with an uncharacteristic fondness. He couldn’t miss this chance to tease him. 

“Yes exactly, because he’s the best gamer in the country. Maybe even the whole world!” Dokja knocked his arm against Yoo Joonghyuk’s, getting a scowl in return. Mia however, nodded somberly in agreement.

“Buckle up,” Yoo Joonghyuk ordered, starting the car again. She dutifully obeyed but then leaned forward, looking up at her brother with pleading eyes. 

“By the way oppa, can I go play with my friends at their house today? I promised them I would show them a game.”

“Do you have homework to do today?” he asked, frowning. 

“I already finished it in class! It was easy.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk contemplated for a moment. “You still have piano to practice.” 

“I promise I’ll do it later when I get home. Pleeeease, oppa! They’re the first friends I’ve made since transferring,” she grabbed his arm, shaking it. 

“Okay,” he relented. Mia cheered, her smile bright. 

They started driving towards her friend’s home according to her directions, and after a few minutes, Dokja noticed the neighbourhood getting more and more familiar. 

“I live around here,” he said. This little impromptu trip with Yoo Joonghyuk had been worth it after all, seeing as he was basically getting a free ride home.

Soon they turned into an apartment complex. 

“Wait, this is where I live,” Dokja turned around to look at Mia. “What were the names of your friends again?” 

“There they are!” she exclaimed, pointing out the window as Yoo Joonghyuk parked. Peering outside, Dokja’s suspicions were confirmed. It was Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung who were bounding up to greet Yoo Mia. She must’ve been the new girl in their class that they had recently mentioned. 

They all stepped out of the car as the two kids came skidding to a stop in front of them. 

“Mia you made it!” Yoosung hugged the other girl while Gilyoung stayed back with a wide smile on his face. 

“Dokja ahjussi, you’re here too?” Yoosung looked up at him, confused. Gilyoung came up and hugged Dokja’s leg so he patted him fondly on the head. 

Mia piped up first. “This ahjussi is interviewing my brother for the newspaper! I told you guys he’s super famous and good at gaming,” she explained, pleased. 

“Also, they’re friends?” She said this part with more uncertainty, but shrugged. 

“Nice to meet you Joonghyuk oppa,” Shin Yoosung said seriously, craning her neck back to meet Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes. “It’s nice that you’re friends with Dokja ahjussi, he doesn’t have many.” 

“Yoosungie, stop kidding around-” Dokja forced out a laugh, his face flushed. 

“It’s true! The only person he hangs out with is Sooyoung noona,” Gilyoung chimed in. “We’re so happy for you hyung.” 

These kids seriously… Dokja’s eye twitched. He didn’t dare turn to see what kind of expression Yoo Joonghyuk was wearing. 

“So what are you kids planning today?” he redirected the conversation, voice tight. 

“Mia’s gonna show us a cool game!” Gilyoung said excitedly. Yoosung and Mia nodded in agreement. 

“Can we go get ice cream first, oppa?” Mia looked up at her brother. Yoo Joonghyuk nodded and the children all whooped in joy. 

The three of them ran ahead towards the convenience store while Yoo Joonghyuk and Kim Dokja trailed behind slowly.

“What a small world,” Dokja murmured, mostly to himself as he watched them. 

“I’m glad Mia has found friends,” Joonghyuk suddenly said beside him, surprising Dokja. 

“Why did she transfer schools?” he questioned. 

“She was living somewhere else before,” Joonghyuk replied, giving no further explanation. 

They arrived at the store and the kids were already excitedly rummaging through the freezers, trying to decide which ice cream to pick. 

“Mia, which one’s your favourite?” Yoosung was asking. 

“I like the melon one!” Mia waved around a green popsicle in her hand.

“Ew! That one isn’t good. This chocolate and vanilla one is way better!” Gilyoung argued, grabbing his carton of choice from the fridge.

“I don’t like chocolate,” Mia wrinkled her nose up in disgust. The three of them continued to bicker over who’s pick was best. 

It seemed Mia was going to fit in with these two just right, Dokja noted with a smile. 

“Aren’t you going to get one too? It might help you cool off since you refuse to wear anything else but that black coat of yours,” Dokja nudged the tall man beside him. 

“I don’t like ice cream,” Yoo Joonghyuk responded with a glare. 

“What? How is it possible for anyone to dislike ice cream?” Dokja gave him a look of exaggerated horror. 

But, of course, if anyone was going to hate ice cream, it’d be Yoo Joonghyuk. He probably hated puppies too. 

“If you’re not getting one, then I will. You’ll pay for mine too, right?” Yoo Joonghyuk’s scowl deepened but he didn’t refuse. 

Dokja perused the wide selection, and his eyes landed on a small strawberry ice cream cup. He eagerly reached in and pulled it out of the freezer. He hadn’t had this in years. It was a treat his mom used to buy for him on the rare occasions they were able to scrape together the extra change. 

The group went up to the register and Yoo Joonghyuk paid for the four ice creams. Then they went outside to sit on the bench while slurping up the sugary desserts.

Dokja jabbed the little spoon into his ice cream and held it up to Yoo Joonghyuk. 

“Here, try it. I promise it’s good.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk’s mouth tightened into a line, as if he was afraid Dokja was going to shove it into his mouth. 

“No.” 

“Come on,” Dokja goaded, waving the spoon in his face. “If you don’t eat it right now, it’s going to drip onto your precious jacket.” 

If looks could kill, Dokja would certainly have already died ten times over under Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes. 

Angrily, Joonghyuk ripped the spoon out of his hand and ate the ice cream before pushing the spoon back. If you went based on his expression, one might’ve thought that Dokja had fed him curdled milk or something. 

Satisfied, Dokja went ahead and took a spoonful of it himself. He savoured the cold creaminess in his mouth, feeling nostalgic. It was just as delicious as he remembered. Yoo Joonghyuk stared at him, as if offended by something. 

“What? Just because you didn’t like it doesn’t mean I can’t,” Dokja derided. He turned to look at the kids who were happily eating their respective ice creams next to him. 

Shin Yoosung was watching him and Yoo Joonghyuk, giggling. 

“What is it, Yoosung?” Dokja raised an eyebrow at her mischievous face. 

“Nothing,” she giggled again. 

“You better eat your ice cream quicker, it’s melting.” Dokja pointed at the matcha cone in her hands that was slowly dripping. She turned her attention to it and hurriedly lapped up the melting trails. 

They finished their ice creams and headed back to the apartment complex. 

“Ahjussi, can we come to your house? My brother’s using the computer at my place and Gilyoung’s mom isn’t home yet,” Yoosung asked, her hand clinging to his. 

Dokja rubbed the back of his head, trying to remember if he had cleaned his apartment recently. He didn’t want Yoo Joonghyuk to see the monster of a laundry pile that was normally there. 

“Um, yeah sure,” he complied. Then with a pause, “Yoosung-ah, why do you call me ahjussi and Yoo Joonghyuk oppa? You know, he’s only a few months younger than me.” 

She tilted her head to scrutinize him.

“You’re Dokja ahjussi,” she stated with an air of finality, as if that explained it all. Dokja sighed but didn’t argue.

“Speaking of me being older, Yoo Joonghyuk, you should be calling me hyung,” Dokja turned his attention to Joonghyuk who was walking slowly behind, giving him a brazen grin. 

“How would you know?” came his biting reply. 

“The internet is a journalist’s best friend,” Dokja rolled his eyes. “Obviously I would do a basic search about you. Do you take me for an amateur?” 

“Be quiet.” 

“Yoosung-ah, Gilyoung-ah, make sure to never follow Yoo Joonghyuk’s example here. He’s a very rude guy.” 

“Hey, oppa isn’t rude! He’s very nice to me,” Mia spoke up, pouting. 

“Then you should count yourself as one of the lucky ones,” Dokja told her solemnly. 

He let them inside his apartment and huffed in relief at the sight of it being relatively clean. Good thing he had had the foresight to do his laundry a couple nights ago. Still, Yoo Joonghyuk seemed to be looking around distastefully. The man’s eyes landed on his trash can, which was almost filled to the brim with what were clearly convenience store meal containers. Yoo Joonghyuk’s jaw twitched. Dokja cleared his throat, a bit embarrassed.

“Okay, there’s my computer, it’s already logged in. Be careful with it and don’t download anything sketchy,” he told the kids, hoping to redirect Yoo Joonghyuk’s attention. They nodded with enthusiasm and scrambled away, fighting to be the one in control of the mouse. 

“Did you want to stay for dinner?” Dokja offered to Yoo Joonghyuk out of politeness. 

The other wordlessly opened the fridge and gave him a withering look. Dokja just chuckled awkwardly as they both surveyed its very empty contents. He had nothing in there save for a couple bottles of tea, a carton of kimchi, and an old, dried up apple in the back. 

“I’ll be back in a couple hours to pick up Mia,” Yoo Joonghyuk rumbled. Without another word he left, shutting the door loudly behind him. 

What a judgemental bastard. Dokja grumbled to himself as he unpacked his work bag. Not everyone could afford whatever personal chef Yoo Joonghyuk probably had at home. Not that Dokja was struggling financially anymore these days, but he still certainly didn’t have the time or energy to cook up gourmet meals every night. 

With the kids taking up his workspace, Dokja settled into the couch and shuffled through the notes he’d gathered over the week. Taking up his pen, he began to draft the outline of the story. He had gotten a lot of good material so far, but one thing that was still missing was information about Yoo Joonghyuk’s streams. He made a mental note to watch one next week. Musing, Dokja also reminded himself to make a couple calls to some of the other top esports companies. While the story was focused on Nebula, it would be good to get some quotes from some of the other teams as well to round out the industry perspective. 

He scrawled out his ideas in bullet points, mind turning around how he would contrast Yoo Joonghyuk’s international fame with the starry-eyed trainees who were still in school, balancing gaming practice and homework in hopes of one day reaching where the Supreme King stood. Dokja wondered idly if Yoo Joonghyuk had ever been one of them or if he had just come busting out of the gate, inherently talented. 

During his online search, he’d learned that Yoo Joonghyuk had only signed with Nebula two years prior. Before that, he’d been independent, still notorious and respected but only within the hardcore gaming circles. It was only after joining the company did he skyrocket into fame with the general public as well, gaining multimillion dollar sponsorships and advertising deals. It was no wonder Baram had commented that it had taken him eight years to reach this level of fame, but it seemed that Yoo Joonghyuk hadn’t been focused on that or else he would’ve signed with a company much earlier. Dokja doubted it was for a lack of offers. Anyhow, with Yoo Joonghyuk’s appearance, he was rising up in the brand value rankings everyday. He likely would’ve already been at the top if not for his known pickiness when it came to sponsorship deals. 

There was too much to cover when it came to the character that was Yoo Joonghyuk, Dokja thought with a frown. For the sake of length, he’d have to prioritize which details were important for the story. 

The sunlight outside Dokja’s window had turned orange-gold when the door abruptly burst open. He looked up in alarm but it was just Yoo Joonghyuk, carrying a bunch of shopping bags. 

“Ah, is it time already?” Dokja rubbed his eyes and glanced down at his watch. Two hours had passed without him even realizing. 

“Mia, your brother is here,” he announced. The three kids had been glued to the computer screen all afternoon, in a trance as Mia had walked them through some new MMORPG. 

He pushed himself up and walked up to Yoo Joonghyuk who was setting down the bags in his kitchen. 

“What’s all this?” Dokja asked, peeking around his shoulder. 

“Food, so that you don’t starve,” Yoo Joonghyuk replied darkly. He began unpacking the groceries and neatly lining them into the refrigerator. With a look of disgust, he threw away the moldy apple. 

“Hey, I feed myself just fine!” Dokja protested, but then quickly shut up at the sight of fresh, glistening pork belly being stuffed into the fridge.

Yoo Joonghyuk finished and roughly closed the refrigerator door, giving Dokja a final death glare. He gathered up Mia’s backpack and ushered her out the door. 

“See you tomorrow, Joonghyuk-ah!” Dokja called out cheerfully at his retreating back. He was met with a slam of the front door. 

Whirling around, he faced Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung. 

“Who wants some kimchi jjigae for dinner?” he asked with a smile. 

The two kids burst into cries of delight. 

Chapter Text

That weekend, Han Sooyoung came to pick him up for Lee Hyunsung’s dinner party.

“You’re looking worse than normal,” she commented snidely as he slid into her ostentious sports car. 

“Did you really have to bring your most obnoxious car? Just your old one would’ve been fine, everyone knows you’re a hot shot,” Dokja muttered. He hoped none of his neighbours had seen him get in. 

“Yes, because I just knew how much you’d hate it,” she snickered. The engine roared to life as she sped out of his apartment complex. If his neighbours hadn’t been blinded by the sheer flashiness of its exterior when she drove in, then they surely would’ve been deafened by the noise of it leaving.

“But seriously, why have the circles under your eyes gotten even worse? I didn’t even think that was possible,” she demanded. Her shiny, black hair flounced as her head bobbed between staring at him accusingly and watching the road.   

“I’ve just been trying to write this stupid article,” Dokja muttered, running a hand through his hair. He was more tired than normal. He had stayed up until the early hours of the morning last night typing and then subsequently deleting sentences. 

“I haven’t seen you struggle this much with a story in a long time,” Sooyoung observed in a tone that only she could pull off, somehow mocking yet genuine all at the same time. 

“It’s probably just that this bastard’s ego is so big, I can’t fit it into a two page spread,” Dokja grumbled. 

“Right, this is the one you mentioned about video games,” snorted Sooyoung. “Which streamer are you working with?” 

“Yoo Joonghyuk.”

Her eyes popped out in surprise. “That guy?” Then she started laughing maniacally.

“You should’ve told me earlier that it was Yoo Joonghyuk. I’ve had the displeasure of meeting that asshole here and there before at media events.” 

Dokja could imagine what sort of verbal brawl would’ve happened between them. He wouldn’t describe either as exceedingly easy to get along with, but with Sooyoung’s brash attitude and Yoo Joonghyuk’s temperament, a meeting between them would be akin to two warring nations. 

“He’s not as bad as I first thought,” Dokja found himself saying, almost unconsciously.

Han Sooyoung gave him a sideways glance. 

“Not that bad? The man only knows the words “shut” and “up”, and I’m pretty sure his facial muscles have never learned how to smile.” 

Dokja chuckled. “That’s true.” 

“I’ve always known you had bad taste in people,” Sooyoung looked at him again as if he was crazy. 

“You’re right, considering you’re my oldest friend,” Dokja nodded in solemn agreement. She cackled and reached over to punch him in the arm. 

“Ow,” he complained, while rubbing what was sure to become a bruise. It only made her laugh harder. 

Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to Jung Heewon and Lee Hyunsung’s low-rise apartment. 

“What’d you bring for the dinner?” Sooyoung asked, while stepping out of the car. 

“They said they were preparing a lot of food already, so I just brought a case of beer,” Dokja said, holding up a bag. “How about you?”

“This.” With a smirk, she reached into the backseat and pulled out an extremely expensive looking case of champagne. 

“Thanks, now I’ll look bad in comparison,” he huffed. 

“You’re welcome,” she responded sweetly. 

They trotted upstairs and rang the doorbell. 

“You’re late!” Heewon’s loud voice came as she swung open the door. Her dark hair was tied up into a loose bun, and she gave a smirk as her eyes landed on the two. “You better have brought some alcohol to make up for it.” 

Dokja raised his arm to clink the bottles in his bag. 

“You can blame this one for us being late,” he jabbed a thumb at Sooyoung as he made his way inside, toeing off his shoes. 

“A pleasure as always, Sooyoung-ssi.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Heewon-ssi,” Sooyoung greeted her in an equally mocking tone. It was impressive the two were able to make honorifics sound so disrespectful. 

“It’s really amazing, I was able to hear your car coming from five kilometres away,” Heewon commented, closing the door behind them. “You sure know how to make an entrance.” 

“I am the party after all,” Sooyoung flipped her hair for dramatic effect. She lifted up the case of champagne and dropped it into Heewon’s hands graciously. 

Heewon’s eyes widened and lit up at the sight, biting back any stinging retort she’d been gearing up to say. 

“Dokja, come meet Hyunsung’s friends. Everyone’s already arrived,” she said instead, herding them inside. 

“What are you guys making? It smells amazing,” Dokja said, sniffing the air. He had gotten very hungry from waiting for Han Sooyoung to come pick him up. “It’s not you cooking, is it Heewon?” 

She rolled her eyes at him. “Ha-ha. No, don’t worry I won’t grace you with any of my dishes tonight.” 

The last time Heewon had fed Dokja some of her homemade jeon, he was pretty sure he’d gotten food poisoning. Luckily, it smelt like Lee Hyunsung was a much better chef. 

“Hyunsung’s cooking with-” 

“Yoo Joonghyuk?” Dokja blurted out, cutting Heewon off. 

As the three of them stepped into the main kitchen and dining area, his eyes immediately fell on the two large men bent over in concentration, preparing a plate of fragrant meat and vegetables. One was Lee Hyunsung. The other, dressed in his customary all-black, was Yoo Joonghyuk. He was, however, wearing a t-shirt today, which Dokja had not seen before. It was form-fitting and hugged his chest in a way that made his eyes immediately dart away.

Yoo Joonghyuk’s head shot up and his eyes narrowed, mouth immediately twisting down into a frown. 

“Kim Dokja.” 

“You two know each other?” Heewon asked, looking confused. Hyunsung also looked up, surprised. 

“What a weird way of greeting each other,” Sooyoung muttered under her breath behind him. 

“Ah! Joonghyuk is the one you were talking about working with for the esports story?” Heewon said with wonder, her mind working lightning fast as always. “We were talking about the same person this whole time.” 

Dokja nodded, still a bit taken aback. Yoo Joonghyuk on the other hand, returned his attention to preparing the dish in front of him, clearly disinterested. 

“Joonghyuk and I went to high school together, so we go way back,” Hyunsung exclaimed excitedly. “What a coincidence that you two already know each other!” 

“Nice to see you Dokja-ssi!” another voice piped up from the corner. 

Dokja turned around to see Lee Seolhwa sitting relaxedly on a couch on the other side of the room. With his surprise in seeing Yoo Joonghyuk, he hadn’t even noticed her presence. It made sense though, of course as Yoo Joongyuk’s girlfriend she would attend the party with him. 

“You must know Seolhwa as well from working with Nebula these days. She was also high school classmates with those two,” Heewon said. “What a small world, I guess I don’t have to introduce you to anyone after all.” 

Dokja blinked. So Yoo Joonghyuk and Lee Seolhwa were high school sweethearts. That was quite impressive, he hadn’t penned Joonghyuk to be that type of guy. 

“I’m here too, you know,” Sooyoung spoke up, annoyed. 

“How could I have forgotten?” Heewon snickered. “Everyone, this is Han Sooyoung, Dokja’s friend.” 

Hyunsung and Seolhwa both greeted her enthusiastically. 

“Yah, Yoo Joonghyuk, remember me? We go way back too, don’t we?” She sauntered up to him, voice taunting. 

He looked up, and if it were a lesser human being, they would’ve shrivelled up on the spot from the venomous expression he wore. But it was Han Sooyoung, so obviously she wasn’t bothered even the slightest by the fact that he was trying to murder her with his eyes. 

“No, I don’t,” came his scathing reply. 

“Hey, don’t hurt my feelings Yoo Joonghyuk! We’ve met at least three times now.” 

“Joonghyuk is so famous these days. We can’t go anywhere without everybody recognizing him,” Hyunsung joked. “The other day we were shopping at Jamsil and basically got mobbed.” 

Dokja glanced at Yoo Joonghyuk. He felt sorry for whatever fans had encountered him as he did not seem like the type of celebrity that would enjoy or tolerate getting publicly accosted. 

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t seem inclined to comment on the experience so the conversation moved on. Dokja caught up with Heewon - she seemed to be very much enjoying the ability to kick back and relax now that her boyfriend was back and doing the heavy lifting in the kitchen. 

A short while later, Hyunsung announced that dinner was ready. Dokja sped to the table, mouth already salivating from the smells. He rubbed his hands gleefully when he saw the full spread, but his face quickly dropped when he realized he’d found himself in the unfortunate spot of sitting between Yoo Joonghyuk and Han Sooyoung. 

Nevertheless, that didn’t stop him from eagerly reaching for the food. Dokja fervently bit into a piece of pork and had to contain a moan of bliss at the taste - this was possibly the best thing he had ever tasted. Heewon was lucky to be dating such a talented chef. 

“Sooyoung, are you a writer? I feel like I’ve heard of your name before,” Lee Seolhwa leaned over from her spot across Joonghyuk to ask.

“I’ve written a few things here and there,” Sooyoung responded demurely. Dokja rolled his eyes at her act.

“Stop pretending to be humble,” he quipped. “She’s exactly the Han Sooyoung you’re thinking of, the web novelist.” 

“What?!” Lee Hyunsung’s mouth dropped open from where he was sitting across the table. A half-bitten pepper hung from his mouth comically. “I love The Infinite Regressor ! I’m such a huge fan.” 

Sooyoung looked pleased, basking in the praise. Dokja gave another roll of his eyes but smiled despite himself. He’d never admit it, but of course he was proud of his best friend. 

“I heard from Dokja that you’re working on the drama adaptation these days. How’s that going?” Heewon asked, for once genuinely curious. 

Sooyoung shrugged. “The producer is annoying as hell, but the actors are good. It’s been crazy busy so thankfully production’s wrapping up soon.” 

Hyunsung’s eyes widened even more. “So it’s coming out soon?” 

“Post is going to take at least another six months,” she explained. “So I think the release date has been scheduled for the fall.”

“It’s going to be huge,” Dokja mused, thinking of all the hype that he’d already seen building up in the forums. Hyunsung nodded ardently in agreement. 

“I was offered the lead role for that drama,” a gruff voice beside Dokja suddenly spoke up. He, along with the rest of the table, looked over at Yoo Joonghyuk in bewilderment. 

Dokja didn’t even know that the man had been paying attention to the conversation - he assumed he had been too busy picking a fight with his stew from the violent way he’d been poking apart his tofu. 

“I do remember the casting directors saying something at the beginning about wanting to get a big internet star…” Sooyoung frowned. 

“That’s right, you have recently gotten a lot of acting offers haven’t you, Joonghyuk-ah?” Hyunsung grinned proudly, eating his previously neglected pepper. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you in anything though?” Heewon asked, her brows scrunched up.

“Joonghyuk always turns them down,” Lee Seolhwa answered for him as Yoo Joonghyuk had gone back to silently sipping his soup.

“Probably for the better,” Sooyoung waved her hand in the air. “I’m not sure you have the emotional range to play such a complex character.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk immediately threw her another burning glare. 

“I’m not sure. I think I see some similarities between him and the protagonist,” Dokja pointed out. “There’s the horrible temperament, of course. He also doesn’t like to talk much and is more action-oriented. And then there’s the looks factor too, he’d probably fit well into the post-apocalyptic setting and…”

He trailed off as he noticed that everyone was blinking at him rather blankly. Dokja coughed awkwardly. 

“Actually now that you mention it, I agree with Dokja-ssi!” Luckily, Hyunsung swung in to save him. “Joonghyuk would indeed be suitable for the role.” 

Dokja gave a sigh of relief and quickly changed the topic after that. Heewon began recounting something stupid her students had done that day and Hyunsung explained what his new duties were now that he had been re-stationed to Seoul. Even Sooyoung was being amiable, keeping her biting comments to a minimum. She must’ve been in a good mood with this being one of her first weekends off in a while. 

As they talked, Dokja reached for another piece of the meat.

“You need to eat more vegetables,” Yoo Joonghyuk grumbled next to him. Without warning, he dropped a heaping spoonful of cucumber salad into Dokja’s bowl. 

“What are you, my mother?” Dokja complained. But still, he dutifully ate the cucumbers. It was crisp, and a perfect blend of sweet and savoury. 

Later, Seolhwa brought out the strawberry cream cake that she had brought for dessert and Heewon popped open Sooyoung’s gazillion dollar champagne. 

“Cheers to my boyfriend finally coming home!” Heewon shouted out as they clinked their glasses. Hyunsung blushed deeply but wore the biggest, happiest smile. Their two hands found each other’s as everyone downed their glass of wine. 

“Wow, the sight of them might even make my cold heart melt,” Sooyoung muttered from beside Dokja, her voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Don’t be bitter just because you’re forever alone,” Dokja sniggered, bumping his hip to hers. He was feeling a bit warm from the beer and champagne, along with a couple soju shots that Heewon had pestered him into drinking over dinner. 

“You’re one to talk,” she pulled a scornful look. “I sometimes worry you’ll choke on your food alone in your apartment and nobody’ll find you until like two weeks later.” 

“We can choke on our food alone, together,” Dokja batted his eyelashes at her. She cackled and hit him, too hard as always. 

“Although maybe I won’t have to worry for too much longer,” her eyes flitted across the room as her face settled into something of an amused smile. 

“What do you mean? Are you seeing someone?” Dokja asked, confused. 

She chuckled and gave a breezy sigh. “Figure it out yourself, you moron.”

Dokja wracked his brain trying to think of whether she’d mentioned anyone new recently but couldn’t recall any. He shrugged and decided to just let it be. Sooyoung was elusive when it came to her love life. People would come and go occasionally, but it was never anything serious. If she felt the need to introduce him to someone new in her life, she’d do it. 

Speaking of love, his eyes drew towards Yoo Joonghyuk and Lee Seolhwa who were chatting with each other on the other side of the room. It was lucky he had brought Sooyoung along to this gathering or he would’ve ended up essentially fifth-wheeling. The two of them looked perfectly matched for each other, and Yoo Joonghyuk’s face looked almost relaxed, which was a rarity indeed. 

As if feeling his eyes on him, Yoo Joonghyuk looked up and stared back. The serene expression immediately swept away and was replaced by an intense gaze of scrutiny. Dokja gave him a mocking little lift of his glass and mouthed “cheers” across the room, before returning his attention to the rest of the group. 

If Sooyoung really was seeing someone new, then he could only be happy for her. At least one of them was experiencing some companionship. The only new person in Dokja’s life was one that seemed to hold endless distaste for him. 

Chapter Text

Ping! 

Dokja glanced down at his phone in surprise. He set aside his laptop that he’d been typing on and swiped open the new message. 

Yoo Sangah: It was nice to see you the other day Dokja-ssi. Would you be free for coffee some time? 

Dokja blinked and re-read the message again. 

“Ahjussi has a date?” came a girlish voice from behind his shoulder. Dokja jumped and quickly turned off his phone screen, whirling his head around. Yoo Mia stood there looking innocent. 

“Didn’t your brother ever teach you that it’s rude to intrude on other people’s privacy?” he muttered. 

“Did you say ahjussi has a date?” Shin Yoosung looked up excitedly from where she was playing on her iPad with Lee Gilyoung. Her eyes were sparkling with way too much enthusiasm for Dokja’s liking. Since when did his love life become such a topic of interest for these kids?

“No-” 

“A lady named Yoo Sangah just asked him for coffee,” Mia reported matter-of-factly. 

“Yoo Sangah? I’ve never heard of him having a friend with that name,” Yoosung scrunched up her forehead, as if trying to recall every single person she’d ever seen Dokja associate with. 

“What’s the big deal, there’s no way hyung will say yes,” Gilyoung said with a bored tone, still flicking around on the tablet. 

“How would you know that?” Mia shot back, sitting down next to them. It seemed she had learned how to match the two’s energy and attitude in no time. 

Gilyoung rolled his eyes and gave a sigh as if it was below him to even give an explanation. 

“Because obviously hyung likes m-”, he started. 

“Okay, that’s enough!” Dokja interrupted, massaging the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache start to come on. “There’s no need for any of you to be talking about this. This is not a date.” 

Gilyoung gave Mia a look as if saying, see? She stuck her tongue out at him. Shin Yoosung was between the two, looking as if she was conflicted about something. 

Thankfully, the three decided to return to their game and no more speculations about his love life were made. He sighed and wondered how his apartment had somehow turned into their go-to hang out location. Maybe he should stop stocking up on their favourite snacks, perhaps it would deter them. 

Checking again to make sure the kids were occupied and there were no sneaky rascals hanging around behind his shoulder, he returned his attention back to the extremely unexpected message. Dokja hesitated and typed out multiple texts before backspacing on each one. Finally he decided on something short and simple. 

Kim Dokja: Sure, how’s Friday? 

A few moments later, her response came. Luckily he remembered this time to put his notifications on silent, as to not attract any more unwanted attention from the nosy children. 

Yoo Sangah: Friday’s great! I’ll see you at 6pm then. 

Along with the message, she sent the location of a popular cafe not too far from where he lived. 

Dokja closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch. He wondered what had prompted her to reach out. After all, they had run into each other numerous times over the years with the journalism world being as small as it was, and had always exchanged pleasantries but never did either of them reach out outside of work despite promising to.

His phone lit up again with another incoming message. He opened it up, wondering if Sangah had a follow-up question, but it wasn’t her. 

How have you been lately? 

Dokja stared at the chat window, a tightness in his throat forming. He raised his thumbs to type a response but then stopped. After a moment, he clicked his phone off. 

He was behind on his article, Dokja thought to himself, pulling his laptop close to him again. He would answer the message later, there was no rush. 

A short but sharp knocking came from the door. Sighing, Dokja set his computer aside again. At this rate, he was going to have to find some sort of excuse for Uriel as to why he wouldn’t be able to meet the deadline. 

He pushed himself up to answer the door, knowing that the person on the other side was quick to impatience. Mia had been coming over often enough now that he was well aware. 

“Yoo Joonghyuk,” Dokja greeted as the door opened to reveal the man. Joonghyuk’s dark hair looked windswept from walking outside, framing his face in artful strokes. “It’s great to see you yet again! I love that we get to spend all day at work together, and then I also have to see you after work.” 

“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk said back darkly. 

“Mia, your brother is here,” Dokja called out over his shoulder before turning back to Joonghyuk. “Seriously, these kids need to find a new place to hang out. My snack budget is through the roof.” 

“Then don’t let them in.” 

“You think it’s that simple?” Dokja threw up his hands, exasperated. “Those three are a force of nature.” 

“You would lose to three ten-year-olds?” 

Dokja peered at Yoo Joonghyuk in astonishment. Was he teasing him? 

“If you think they’re so easy to handle, why don’t all of us go to your house for a change?” Dokja shot back with a grin. 

“Fine,” Yoo Joonghyuk replied with no change in his expression. 

“See, I knew-,” Dokja took in his response, surprised. “Wait, really?”

Yoo Joonghyuk gave him a glare and stayed silent. Dokja’s mouth broke out into another smile. 

“You can’t take it back! It’s a done deal. We’ll be coming over.” 

“Be quiet,” snapped the taller man, but it seemed to have less bite than normal. That or Dokja was growing immunity against his cantankerous antics as they spent more time together. 

“I’m ready to go, oppa.” Mia came walking over after saying goodbye to Yoosung and Gilyoung. Yoo Joonghyuk reached down to gently adjust her scarf, making sure that her neck and lower face were fully covered. 

Dokja watched them and felt a strange sense of affection in his heart. 

As the pair were about to step out, Mia suddenly piped up. “By the way, oppa, did you know that ahjussi has a da-”

“Mia-yah,” Dokja interrupted, panicking knowing exactly what she was about to say. “It’s a crime to spread false rumours about people, you know.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk looked at him with confusion at his statement while Mia glared daggers at him. She tossed him an annoyed harumph before twirling on her heels and striding away. Thankfully it seemed like she was going to keep her mouth shut, even if he did have to resort to veiled threats. Her brother quickly followed after her. 

“See you tomorrow, Yoo Joonghyuk,” Dokja called out cheerfully before shutting the door behind him. Being on the bad side of the Yoo siblings he could handle, if it meant not giving Yoo Joonghyuk any funny ideas about his love life. 

Shortly after, Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung were called away by their families for dinner and Dokja was finally able to settle down in some quiet to work on his story. 

He had been struggling to complete a full outline and so he decided to just start typing. The first section of the article was going to cover the rise of esports and the popularity of the field. With his industry research pretty much completed at this point, it wouldn’t be difficult to write that out at least.  

An indeterminate amount of time passed before his door suddenly slammed open with a bang. Dokja jumped off the couch, raising his laptop up to use as an ill thought shield against his intruder. 

“Relax, it's just me,” Sooyoung closed the door behind her just as violently as she came in. “But you should figure out a better weapon than your laptop if someone crazy really were to break in. Don’t you have all your work on there?” 

“You’re already the craziest person I know,” Dokja muttered, sitting back down. “Why can’t you just knock like a normal person?” 

“You gave me a key for a reason, remember?” She chuckled, setting down a bag full of takeout onto his table. Looking around, she clucked in disapproval. 

“I just knew you wouldn’t have eaten yet. You’re the worst at taking care of yourself.”

“I’m behind on my story,” he explained, but glanced over at the bag with hope. “What did you bring?” 

“Chinese,” she grinned. 

He sprang up, immediately setting aside his computer. Now that she had said it, he could smell the beautiful aroma of jjajangmyeon wafting his way. Taking a deep inhale, he gleefully reached over.

But before he could snatch the bag, Sooyoung stepped in his way. 

“Before I give it to you, I need to ask - did you agree?” She looked down at him, gloating over the desperate hunger in his eyes. 

“Agree to what?” he whined. Dokja’s mouth was practically salivating at the prospect of the huge bowl of black bean noodles waiting for him. He hoped that she had gotten tangsuyuk as well. 

“Yoo Sangah.” 

He stopped trying to wrestle his way around her and slowly looked up at her conniving little face. 

“That was you?” He punctuated each word. 

“You’re welcome,” Sooyoung crossed her arms smugly. 

“Why would I thank you?” he demanded. Embarrassment spread through him - what if Yoo Sangah thought that he had asked Sooyoung to talk to her for him? 

“You think I want to be involved in your sad, nonexistent love life?” She rolled her eyes and threw her hands up. “Trust me, you need this closure.” 

“Closure? The two of us have been broken up for four years.” 

“That’s what I’m saying,” Sooyoung muttered under her breath. 

“What made you think this would be a good idea?”

“I just think that,” she slowly stretched out her words, “one door needs to close before another can open.” 

Now he was just confused. “What in the world are you talking about?”

Sooyoung roughly combed her fingers through her hair, pinning him with a pointed expression. “Look, I know you’re not secretly carrying a torch for her still or anything like that. But sometimes closure isn’t just about getting over the other person.”

Dokja looked away. 

She continued, “I just think it’s time you had a chat with her. Maybe it’ll… open you up to other things.” 

“I have no idea what you’re saying, but it doesn’t matter anyway.” Dokja sighed. “I agreed when she asked.”

A triumphant smile broke across his best friend’s face. 

He glared at her. “Don’t look so pleased. We said we would stay friends, so I’m just keeping my word.” 

Sooyoung shrugged innocently. “I’m only happy my dearest reader is taking this big step towards personal growth.” 

“Whatever,” he huffed. “Now please, I’m starving. ”

Satisfied, she finally stepped aside and allowed him to rip open the takeout bag. 

“Did you get tangsuyuk as well?” 

“Obviously.” 

The two sat down at the dining table and dug in voraciously. It had been way too long since Dokja had last eaten non-instant jjajangmyeon. Sadly, there weren’t that many good spots near him. He was so distracted with slurping down the savoury, thick noodles that it wasn’t until he was halfway done with his bowl that he suddenly had an odd thought. 

“Wait, since when have you been in contact with Yoo Sangah?” he asked, looking up from his meal. 

Sooyoung paused, chopsticks holding a piece of glazed fried pork in midair. For once, she seemed to have the decency to look slightly embarrassed, as if caught in action. 

“I happened to run into her a few days ago… and we just got talking,” Sooyoung shifted.

“And you just had to bring me up?” he rolled his eyes.

“We were just reminiscing a little on our college days,” she chuckled softly. There was an uncharacteristic lilt in her laugh.

“You always did get along better with her than most,” Dokja mused with a smile. The three of them had been close while he and Sangah were dating. “Although I can’t imagine anyone not getting along with Sangah.” 

“Yeah, I guess so.” Her eyes got a bit far away. “She seems pretty impressive these days.” 

Sooyoung coughed, as if surprised by her own words. 

“You can say nice things about people you know,” Dokja teased. “Sangah-ssi is impressive.” 

At this, his friend snorted and reverted to her sardonic face. “Hey, I say nice things about people all the time.” 

“Not about me.” 

“That’s because it’s you .” 

The two dropped into their usual bickering for the rest of the meal, before the topic shifted to Dokja’s work. 

“So how’s that rude bastard?”

“Hard to work with as usual.” 

Sooyoung snickered as she scraped at the last of her noodles. 

“That face of his is wasted on his awful personality,” she scoffed, but then cocked Dokja a mischievous look. “He seems to like you more than most though.”

“Me? I doubt that, considering he tries to murder me with his eyes about ten times a day.” 

Sooyoung grinned. “Anyway, you only have a bit over a week left on this story right?” Dokja paused for a moment, and then almost hesitatingly nodded in confirmation. 

Right. There actually wasn’t that much time left. Somehow, he’d lost track of the days.

Anxiously, he thought about his barely-started draft. While Uriel wasn’t the type to be a hard-ass when it came to deadlines, he would feel guilty if he extended it any longer considering he had been given three whole weeks to solely dedicate to this piece. Tonight, he’d finish at least the first third, he promised to himself. 

The two finished their dinner, and Sooyoung made an excuse about work in order to make a quick exit before he roped her into cleaning. After she left, Dokja slowly began clearing away the takeout containers from the table.

It was quiet in his little apartment, as it always was. But for some reason, it felt emptier than usual that night. It was probably the sudden departure of Sooyoung’s loud personality, he decided. 

Although it was a silence that Dokja should’ve been accustomed to, he found himself opening up his computer and turning on a certain gamer’s stream. 

Over the weekend, he had done some searching to find out Yoo Joonghyuk’s stream schedule. As the other had mentioned previously, he did a mix of streaming at work and at home. A couple days ago, Dokja had watched a bit of his live while in the office and had been impressed by the numbers. 

Despite it having been school hours, and his camera not even being on - Dokja had learned that it was rare for Yoo Joonghyuk to show his face on stream, much to Baram’s frustration - it still garnered good numbers. The Supreme King had a lot of hardcore fans who watched for his skill and ruthless playstyle. 

Now that it was evening, he imagined the audience would only be larger. 

Dokja quickly typed in his login to the streaming platform, an account that he’d freshly made for the purpose of this story, and clicked into Joonghyuk’s live. As he expected, the number of viewers was significantly higher than the daytime stream he’d watched. Diligent as always, Dokja noted this down for the article. 

Yoo Joonghyuk’s camera was off, and he was playing a battle royale shooter game. As expected of a too-cool guy like him, he didn’t speak much during his streams but he did comment here and there on strategies that he was using. Dokja had a sneaking suspicion this was some sort of clause that Baram had put into his contract. Knowing Yoo Joonghyuk, he probably would rather not say a word at all. 

Dokja returned to the kitchen to finish his cleaning, enjoying the background noise of the simulated fighting sounds, Joonghyuk’s short descriptions, and the occasional ding of when a donation was given to the stream. He smiled to himself as he washed the dirty utensils he and Sooyoung had used for dinner, trying to imagine what expression Yoo Joonghyuk was wearing right now. Probably the relaxed yet focused look he usually had while gaming, but perhaps with an annoyed clench of his jaw every now and then if he read the messages on his live chat. Dokja had found more than a few very amusing ones, presumably left by fangirls. 

Just as he was drying off the chopsticks, the donation dings coming from his laptop exploded, all of a sudden becoming incessant. Over the speakers, he heard Yoo Joonghyuk inhale sharply, clearly irritated.

“There’s no need for this many donations,” the gamer spoke up in that impatient tone of his. If Baram heard, he’d be twitching mad. After all, what kind of streamer turned down their key source of income?

Dokja hurried back to his computer, wondering the reason for the sudden ruckus. Immediately, he saw exactly why the live chat was now moving at lightning speed, messages flooding in too fast to be read and donations getting dropped almost every second. His viewer count was skyrocketing as well at an astonishing rate, people were probably linking his stream to everyone they knew. 

In the corner of the screen was a very clear picture of Joonghyuk’s annoyed face in real time. Settling onto the couch to watch, Dokja chuckled to himself. No wonder people were getting worked up. It wasn’t everyday Yoo Joonghyuk graced the public with that face that could put any model out of work. 

Dokja was curious why he decided to switch the camera on today though, and it seemed he wasn’t the only one. 

Joonghyuk oppa has his camera on today?! He’s too handsome to be real.

No way! It must be my lucky day!!!

Yah, he looks so cool as always…

Joonghyuk-ah, why have you decided to be on cam today?

AHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

Thousands of messages similar to those were pouring in and Dokja could only shake his head. The man didn’t need his ego inflated more than it already was. On screen, Yoo Joonghyuk ignored the uproar he’d caused and simply continued to focus on his game. 

Dokja scutinized his background, trying to make out details of the room he was in - presumably in his home. However, he seemed to just be sitting in a plain, sparsely furnished room. There wasn’t even a light on. Joonghyuk’s face was only luminated by his bright computer screen, the shifting colours creating shadows across his sharp angles. It was unlike setups Dokja had seen from other streamers he had come across while doing research, most of them opting for flashy displays and aesthetic backgrounds. 

It was so in character of him, the bastard was probably paranoid about fans gleaning anything personal about him from his streaming room. 

Dokja then grinned to himself, remembering Yoo Joonghyuk’s unexpected agreement earlier. He’d be able to get a peek behind the camera soon enough with his own eyes.

Chapter Text

The next day, Kim Dokja decided to go into his own office. While it wasn’t unusual for him to be away for periods of time working on stories, he liked to check in periodically even when that was the case.  

Also, he figured it might help him with his writing block if he took a mental break from the Nebula headquarters. He’d learned over the years that sometimes you needed space to get the creative gears turning again.  

“Look who’s finally decided to show his face around here,” Bihyung, one of the senior writers, brusquely joked as he entered. 

Dokja smiled as he set his bag down at his desk. Bihyung was a proud and quick-tempered man, his face often set in a calculating expression as if he was trying to figure out how to best use you for his next headliner story. However, while he was certainly shrewd, over time Dokja had learned that Bihyung had his soft spots, though he’d never admit it. When Dokja first started at Eden, Bihyung was one of the first staffers to give him pointers - his tips on how to survive under Uriel’s management had been especially helpful. At work, Dokja considered him to be his most reliable ally. 

“Uriel really has you working on that esports piece, huh?” 

“She hasn’t even assigned me anything else,” Dokja admitted. “It’s a bit weird.” 

“It’s not surprising, she’ll definitely want this story to be the main feature next month.” 

Dokja shuffled around his papers, and booted up his laptop. Settling down in his seat, he gave a small breath of comfort at his familiar office environment. He hadn’t realized it, but the office culture at Nebula was quite a bit more intense than Eden’s - workers were often running around in a bit of a frenzy over there. 

“Why? Did she sign some advertising agreement with Nebula?” Dokja asked absentmindedly, sifting through his notes in dismay. There was so much information to whittle down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bihyung shoot him a strange look. 

“No, it’s because of the star of the article,” Bihyung said, in a tone that indicated it should’ve been obvious. 

“Yoo Joonghyuk?” Dokja looked up now in confusion. 

“Have you not seen the pos-” Bihyung’s words were cut off by the sound of Uriel’s office doors banging open. 

“Did someone say Yoo Joonghyuk?” Her head popped out, golden hair falling down around her shoulders. Uriel’s eyes lit up as they landed on Dokja. 

“Dokja! You’re in today?” She came bounding over, energetic as ever despite it being an ungodly hour in the morning. She was wearing a long, flowing white dress with gold trim. Uriel’s fashion tastes were always eccentric, nothing quite like Dokja had ever seen in a corporate environment before. 

He leaned back to give her a friendly smile. Her energy was exhausting sometimes, but it was also equal parts infectious. 

“I felt like working from my desk today. Also, I wanted to check in to see if I could help out with any other stories.” 

“No need for you to worry about that. You can just focus on Yoo Joonghyuk,” she paused and suddenly went a bit red, “I mean the story about Nebula.” 

“Well actually, I’m a bit in over my head with the presidential campaign coverage,” Bihyung could be heard grumbling from the other side of Dokja’s cubicle. 

“As I said, we’re fine here,” Uriel ignored Bihyung, waving her hand airily. “So, how is the writing going?” 

“Fine,” he lied. His boss didn’t need to know that he was struggling with what was apparently going to be the key feature for next month’s issue. 

“I know I can always count on you to bring a fantastic story to the table, Dokja,” she looked at him sincerely. Then, she widened her eyes in a way that could almost be regarded as angelic, if not for the fact that it, for some reason, struck fear right in his heart. It was a bit like how a child would look at you right after they’d done something completely and disastrously awful. 

“How’s working with Yoo Joonghyuk? The Supreme King is notoriously aloof, I hear.” 

“He can be difficult sometimes,” Dokja confessed. That was the understatement of the year, considering he was worried for his life on the daily when around the gamer. 

“You don’t like him?” Uriel gasped, as if personally insulted. Frown lines formed across her forehead. 

Taken aback by her reaction, Dokja mentally panicked, not wanting to upset her. Uriel was temperamental, and it didn’t always make sense to the writers at Eden but they did know it was best to avoid getting her into one of her moods. She was genuinely scary when she wanted to be. 

“Wh-what, no! I didn’t say that,” he quickly backtracked. “As you said, he can be aloof. But actually I think he’s not such a bad guy once you get to know him.” 

Uriel watched him expectantly and he scrambled for what else to describe.  

“Um, he can even be endearing in a certain way,” he found himself saying. Dokja frowned to himself. Endearing? He must really be going crazy like Sooyoung always said he would. 

Shaking out of his thoughts of possibly checking himself into a mental hospital, he re-focused on his editor’s face, hoping that he’d appeased her. Thankfully it seemed to have worked as she was grinning from ear to ear, eyes practically sparkling. 

“That’s so wonderful to hear! I was hoping you two would get along,” she exclaimed happily. 

“Do you know Yoo Joonghyuk personally?” Dokja asked, confused. 

“No, I’ve sadly never had the chance to meet him,” Uriel pouted.

“Ah… okay.” 

There were a million questions swirling in his mind, but Dokja bit away his inquiries, opting to sidestep any more of this baffling, headache-inducing conversation. Sometimes, there was no point in trying to understand her enigmatic inner workings.

“If editor-nim doesn’t mind, I really should get to work on the article,” he gestured at his laptop.

“Of course, I’ll let you get to it!” Uriel nodded enthusiastically and ducked back into her office, a giddy smile still plastered on her face. He gave a breath of relief once the door clicked shut. 

“Who knew I worked for such a busybody?” Bihyung’s mutter came through the cubicle wall yet again. 

Dokja didn’t respond, nervous that their boss was still listening in.

He shifted into his usual, comfortable position in the chair and opened up his working file to begin typing. He settled his fingers onto the familiar keys. He stared at the page. 

Minutes ticked by. 

He found himself distracted, eyes straying away from his screen to sweep around his little cubicle. 

Dokja has never been much of a decorator, nor was he one to keep sentimental items, so compared to his coworkers, his space looked rather barren. However, notes and books had naturally accumulated around his cubicle over the two years he’d been at Eden and he was now noticing that it was getting rather dusty. There was also his favourite mug, the only thing close to a personal item that he kept there. Dokja peered into it and scrunched his nose up in disgust - he’d forgotten to wash it after last using it over a week ago. 

Yoo Joonghyuk’s rarely used desk at Eden was similar to his in the way that it was completely devoid of decor and personal effects. But in his case, the space was spotless, much like the rest of his things. Dokja wondered idly if the man had some form of OCD.

Dokja shook his head to rid the trivial, irrelevant thoughts. He refocused on his screen and forced himself to begin writing.

The day crawled by and he was able to make some meagre progress. It wasn’t as much as he had hoped, as he’d gotten roped into a coffee machine fiasco with two of their newly hired interns, and then Bihyung discreetly pushed some elections related coverage onto him while Uriel wasn’t around. Secretly, Dokja was a bit glad to have something else to work on even though he rarely wrote about politics and current events. It was boring, but it was straightforward to report on. 

It was late by the time he returned home. To his surprise, he found three small figures sitting at his door. 

“Hyung!” Lee Gilyoung cried out as he caught sight of him. Shin Yoosung and Yoo Mia’s faces snapped up as well, the latter’s eyes brimmed with redness.

“Hello ahjussi,” Yoosung greeted somberly. Mia didn’t say anything and only looked back down, picking at her fingers. “We need your help.” 

“What kind of help?” he asked, concerned. “Is Mia okay?”

“Can she stay with you? Me and Gilyoung’s parents won’t let her without calling Joonghyuk oppa first,” Yoosung explained, lightly patting Mia’s shoulder. 

Dokja crouched down to be eye-level with the children. 

“Why don’t you want your brother to know you’re here?” he asked, facing Mia. She met his eyes, lower lip slightly quivering. It was a bit disconcerting to see her look so vulnerable, when the girl was usually so straightforward and brazen. 

“We had a fight,” Mia admitted, her voice small.

Ah. Dokja gave a light sigh and sat back, weighing his options. 

He didn’t feel entirely comfortable getting in the middle of their family dispute, and definitely did not want to keep Mia at his apartment without Yoo Joonghyuk’s knowledge. The problem was he didn’t even have the man’s phone number to let him know that she was here. 

“So can she stay?” Gilyoung tugged at his sleeve. The way the three of them were looking up at him was making it very difficult to refuse. 

Dokja ran a hand through his hair and gave a huff. He couldn’t exactly just leave them sitting at his doorway either. Also, this was probably the first place Joonghyuk would come looking anyway, along with Gilyoung and Yoosung’s homes. In fact, it was likely he was on his way at this very moment. 

Making a quick decision, Dokja stood back up and gestured for them to do the same. 

“How long have you three been sitting out here anyway? Let’s go in before any of you get sick.” 

Three pairs of eyes lit up as they realized that he was allowing them to stay. Dokja unlocked the door and herded them inside. 

“See? I told you hyung would help,” Gilyoung poked Mia, but softer than he normally would. 

“Sit down on the couch, I’ll go get some snacks,” Dokja ordered. He ruffled around his cupboard and returned to the living room with bags of chips. The three descended on the food like a pack of hyenas - they must’ve been waiting for longer than he’d thought. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” Dokja gently pried once they’d settled down a little. Perhaps he was being nosy, but he figured maybe he could help smooth things over before Yoo Joonghyuk arrived.

Mia sniffled. “Oppa told me he couldn’t come to my piano recital next week,” she explained, downcast. She nibbled away at a chip sadly while Yoosung wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. 

“Did he tell you why?” 

“He said he has a game tournament,” she sulked. “But this is going to be my first time playing on a big stage! I can’t believe he’s going to miss it.” Tears welled up in her eyes anew, but she quickly swiped them away with fury. 

“We’ll come watch you,” Yoosung piped up from beside her. “I’ve never been to a concert before, I bet it’d be fun!” 

“Yeah! And we’ll cheer and clap super loud when you’re up there,” Gilyoung agreed fiercely.

Dokja grinned and affectionately mussed their hair. Mia couldn’t help but crack a small smile at their enthusiasm as well. 

“Thanks, I-I’d like that.” 

As her friends excitedly questioned her about the performance, a thought came to Dokja. 

“If you want, I can come as well,” he told Mia. “That way, I can take a video of the entire thing and you can show your brother afterwards.” 

Mia’s eyes lit up at this suggestion. “Really? You’d do that?” 

“Of course,” he patted her head. “I’m sure Joonghyuk doesn’t want to miss your recital either and would be really happy to have a video of it.” 

“Ahjussi, that’s such a great idea!” Yoosung clapped.

Mia nodded brightly and to Dokja’s relief, it looked like her mood had lightened considerably. The three kids began to chatter with renewed energy and he patted himself on the back for resolving the crisis. 

-

Half an hour later, a rapid knocking came to the door. Dokja quickly scurried up to open it, putting a finger to his lips as his eyes met Yoo Joonghyuk’s frenzied ones. 

“Is she here?” he growled. Dokja pointed to the couch behind him as an answer.

The children had tired themselves out from all the fuss and were at that moment sleeping soundlessly, leaned against each other. Dokja had covered them up with a spare blanket. 

Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze followed his hand, and Dokja saw the distress in his eyes melt away once Mia was within his sight. However, it was quickly replaced by anger. He stomped inside towards his sister but Dokja stepped in front of him, stopping him with a hand to his chest. 

“Let her sleep. She was pretty worked up earlier.” Yoo Joonghyuk looked down at him and for a moment, Dokja thought he was just going to push him aside. 

But instead, the taller man relented and leaned against the nearby wall, taking a deep, bone-tired sigh. He pushed the hair out of his face and closed his eyes, lashes trembling.

Dokja watched him silently as the seconds ticked by. 

When Joonghyuk finally met his eyes again, the frustration lining his face was gone but he looked exhausted. 

“Thank you,” he said, his voice quiet.  

“I didn’t have much choice, they were waiting on my doorstep when I came home,” Dokja chuckled. 

The other hesitated, then asked: “Is she still upset?” 

“I think she’s okay now.” Dokja looked over at her sleeping form, curled up next to her friends. “Yoosung and Gilyoung cheered her up. Also, I told her I’d come film the whole thing so that you wouldn’t have to miss it.” 

Joonghyuk stared at him strangely, a mix of perplexity and something else. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Dokja teased, guiding the two of them to sit down at his dining table. “Don’t you know it’s always been my dream to attend a ten-year-old’s piano recital?”

The comment earned him a comfortingly familiar glare. However, Yoo Joonghyuk’s expression quickly mellowed again as his eyes drifted to his sister. 

“I tried to get out of the tournament,” he said softly. Dokja could see guilt on his face.

“I’m sure she understands deep down,” Dokja replied. “It’s not your fault the game was set for that day.”

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t respond, looking forlorn.

“She’ll be okay,” Dokja continued hesitatingly, unsure of what else to say. 

He didn’t know a lot about their family situation, but based on the few things Yoo Joonghyuk had shared, it seemed that it hadn’t been that long since Mia started living with him. Even though being thrust into the role of a caretaker was probably a foreign and stressful experience for him, it was clear how hard he worked at it. 

“You’re a good brother,” he ventured.

Yoo Joonghyuk swung around to stare at him again, the intensity behind his gaze knocking the wind out of Dokja’s lungs. 

“Do you mean it, about attending the recital?” 

“Yes, why would I lie?” Dokja’s eyes flicked away, nervous from the other man’s tone. He had thought Yoo Joonghyuk would like the idea, but maybe he was wrong. It was a bit presumptuous of him to have basically invited himself to his little sister’s performance. Perhaps it crossed a line. 

“Unless of course, you don’t want me to,” he hastily continued. “Mia’s your sister. If you don’t feel comfortable with it, I won’t go. I was just joking earlier when I said it was my-” 

“Why would you do that?” Joonghyuk pressed further, ignoring Dokja’s rambling.  

Now he was just puzzled. What kind of question was that? 

“Because she was sad, and I figured this alternative would make her feel better,” Dokja answered slowly, frowning.

“I could’ve taken care of it.” 

He rolled his eyes at Joonghyuk’s defensive statement. “Sure. But even the Supreme King can’t create a clone of himself and be in two places at once.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk’s frown deepened. “I don’t like to be in debt to others.” 

“You act like I’m donating a kidney,” Dokja snorted incredulously. “Yoo Joonghyuk, have you never heard of helping a friend out?”

“We’re not-”

“Friends,” he finished for him, unable to stop himself from laughing quietly at the bastard’s unbelievable stubbornness. “Yeah yeah, I know. But look, you don’t want to miss her performance right? This way, you can still see it - at least somewhat.”

Yoo Joonghyuk looked like he wanted to protest, his expression conflicted. However, after a beat of silence, he gave only an imperceptible nod. 

“Okay, good, that’s settled then.” 

Dokja glanced back at the kids. They had slid down the couch further, now nearly lying on top of one another. It was getting much too late to rouse them, but luckily he had told Yoosung and Gilyoung’s parents earlier that they’d fallen asleep after tiring out from playing. 

“They’re really knocked out,” Dokja commented, going over to gently adjust their bodies so that they were in more comfortable positions. “You can just stay over if you’d like.”

“There’s nowhere for me to sleep,” Yoo Joonghyuk scoffed. 

“My bed’s big enough for both of us,” he replied airily. Dokja busied himself with tucking cushions under each of the kids’ heads, but then realized that his response had been met with silence. 

He turned around to see Joonghyuk’s jaw clenched, fingers twitching as if he was just barely holding back from strangling him. 

“Kim Dokja,” he growled. 

“What, do you think it’s too dirty for you or something?” Dokja rolled his eyes. “I promise you I’ve washed my sheets in the past week.” 

He stopped to pretend to ponder that for a moment. “At least, I think I did,” he winked. 

Yoo Joonghyuk looked as if he was really going to slaughter him this time and Dokja couldn’t help but cackle at his expression. 

Nevertheless, an hour later he found himself lying next to his would-be killer in his darkened room. It occurred to Dokja that if Joonghyuk really did want to snuff out his life, now would be an ideal time to do it. 

He glanced over his shoulder and decided it probably wasn’t something he needed to worry about imminently. The other man was perched far on the other side of the bed, probably nearly teetering off the edge, as if afraid to even accidentally brush up against Dokja. How lucky that Joonghyuk’s distaste for him was probably the only thing keeping him alive. 

Dokja just smiled to himself and snuggled deeper into his blanket, closing his eyes to sleep. He was much more tired from the long day than he had realized. 

“Why didn’t you come in today?” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice suddenly broke through the darkness. 

Dokja blearily blinked open again. “Huh?” 

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t repeat himself, but Dokja could feel him stewing on the opposite side. His nearly asleep brain took a minute to register the initial question. 

“Oh, you mean to Nebula? I went into my own office today is all,” he answered, before shutting his eyes again. 

And before his sleep-addled mind could stop him, he asked: “What, did you miss me?” 

Dokja’s mouth let out an involuntary giggle at this question. He quickly suppressed it because even though he wasn’t looking, he could feel Joonghyuk’s glower bore into him. 

“Don’t worry, I’m coming tomorrow,” he murmured. Dokja could hear his voice slowly drifting off as he felt himself getting pulled under.

“Goodnight Yoo Joonghyuk.” 

Stillness filled the room and sleep quickly overtook him in waves. And just before ebbing away entirely, he heard a low, soft voice float over, wrapping him in warmth.

“Goodnight Kim Dokja.”

Chapter Text

Dokja exhaled and the balmy air blew back against his cheeks. His face was nestled against some sort of wall, firm yet soft all at once. It was so very warm. He scooted his body closer and pressed his nose in. It smelled nice as well, like fresh laundry and crisp night air with a faint, underlying woodsy musk that reminded him of Yoo Joonghyuk’s car. 

Yoo Joonghyuk…

Dokja’s eyes snapped open in horror. All he could see in front of him was the broad expanse of a chest, clad in a black cotton t-shirt. His entire body was tucked up against it, as if trying to draw in every bit of the radiating heat.

He scrambled up quickly, nearly falling off the bed in his haste. He prayed to whatever gods or higher powers existed that the man was still asleep. Cursing under his breath, he peeked at the face attached to the aforementioned chest. 

Dokja’s eyes meekly met Yoo Joonghyuk’s, which were very much open and awake. He was watching him intently, a small frown playing at his mouth.

“G-good morning Joonghyuk-ah! How did you sleep?” Dokja stuttered, averting his eyes again. Surely this wasn’t how he was going to die. Surely he wasn’t about to get eviscerated by Yoo Joonghyuk because his stupid, unconscious self had decided to cuddle up to him. 

“It was fine,” came the gruff response, his voice rough from sleep. The sound prickled the back of Dokja’s neck, sending up his hairs. He ignored the sensation and spun around to pick up his phone off the nightstand instead. 

“Oh look at the time! We should probably wake the kids up for school,” Dokja trilled, “I’ll go do that right now.” 

He sped out of the bedroom, making a beeline for the living room. Luckily, the children were still asleep - he wasn’t sure what he’d even say to them had they found him in that earlier position. 

Dokja gently shook the three of them awake. They slowly blinked open with tired faces, squinting at the morning sunlight streaming in through the window.

“Huh? Ahjussi?” Yoosung was the first to speak. She rubbed her face in a daze while the other two looked equally disoriented. 

“The three of you fell asleep here last night,” he explained. 

“Oppa?” Mia sat up, looking behind him. Dokja turned around to find Yoo Joonghyuk leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. 

“I’ll make breakfast,” he said, turning into the kitchen. Dokja let him go, still steeped in shame. 

He quickly ushered the still sleepy Yoosung and Gilyoung out the door, knowing that their parents were probably waiting at home to ready them for school. Mia reluctantly murmured goodbye to them, clearly afraid to face her brother alone. Dokja helped her wash up in the bathroom and by the time they were done, steaming bowls of food were waiting for them at the table. 

The two took a seat, each tentative for their own reasons. A minute later, Joonghyuk appeared with a plate of rolled omelette and sat down as well. 

A beat of tense silence ensued. 

Dokja bit his lip. His own debacle would have to be put aside for now. 

“Wow, I haven’t had a proper breakfast like this in forever,” he quickly exclaimed to break the ice, pulling his bowl of chicken porridge close to him. It was true, he usually didn’t eat breakfast at all.  “Eat quickly Mia, you don’t want to be late for school.”  

Mia’s eyes flickered up at her brother. 

“Yes, eat up,” Joonghyuk agreed, his voice carefully soft. Hearing his tone, her shoulders visibly relaxed and she picked up her spoon.

Dokja took his first bite as well, and his eyes immediately widened. It was the most incredible juk he’d ever had. It was fragrant, warm, with the perfect sprinkle of gingery zing. 

“Yoo Joonghyuk, did you really make this?” he asked, slurping down the porridge greedily with sizable bites of kimchi in between. 

“Obviously,” Joonghyuk replied impatiently. 

“At Hyunsung’s dinner, I thought it was him who was the master chef.” Dokja hummed with pleasure as he popped a piece of omelette in his mouth. “You never told me you could cook like this!” 

“You never asked.” Despite his irritable tone, the faintest ghost of a smile appeared on Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips. 

“Oppa is the best cook in the world!” Mia chimed in, unable to help but join the conversation. Dokja gave her a bright grin and set down his bowl. 

“I don’t know about the best in the world, but he is pretty good,” he teased. “And since he’s made such delicious food for us, what do you think about saying sorry for making him worry last night?” 

“Sorry oppa,” she said, eyes downcast. Joonghyuk placed a piece of omelette into her bowl. 

“Don’t run off like that again.” 

Mia nodded at her brother’s words, looking guilty. 

Dokja nudged the man next to him with his elbow. “Hey, isn’t there anything else you want to say too?” 

Yoo Joonghyuk shot him a glare, but then quickly turned to his younger sister again. 

“I’m sorry I can’t attend your recital. I wish I could.” The apologetic words stumbled out of his mouth stiffly - the guy was clearly unused to saying such things. Dokja barely stifled a smile behind his hand. 

“It’s okay oppa, I know your team would lose horribly without you there,” Mia replied earnestly, her face light again. “Anyway, Dokja ahjussi will show you the video he takes of me.” 

She whirled around to face him. “You better not miss a single second of it!” 

“I wouldn’t dare,” Dokja raised his hands up in surrender. “I’ll be the most professional videographer there ever was. Even Bong Joon-ho will quiver at my abilities.” 

“Bong Joon-ho is a director, not a cinematographer,” mumbled Yoo Joonghyuk. 

Dokja glared at him. “Well he directs the guy taking the video, does he not?” 

“That depends on-”

“The point is Mia,” he continued to the little girl, ignoring her unhelpful brother, “I definitely won’t miss a moment.” 

Looking duly satisfied by his response, Mia returned her full attention to scarfing down her food with a smile on her face as Joonghyuk watched on contentedly. Dokja was relieved to see that the two were in good moods again. 

“You two finish up, I’m going to go take a shower,” Yoo Joonghyuk stood up, clearing away his bowl.  

“There are extra towels in the closet by the bathroom,” Dokja told him. He nodded and disappeared into the hallway. 

After he was gone, Dokja turned to Mia. “Does he make breakfast like this everyday?” 

“Oppa makes everything at home,” she shrugged. “He hates outside food.” 

He remembered how reluctant that man had been for their first meal together and chuckled. “I noticed.” 

“He says it's important to make food and eat at home with family,” she continued, nibbling away at a piece of egg. “But sometimes I just want to order fried chicken!” 

She pulled an exasperated face that Dokja couldn’t help but laugh at. 

“I think you’ll feel lucky when you get a bit older,” he patted her head. “Some people don’t get to eat a lot of delicious, homemade food growing up.” 

Mia got quiet at this and nodded slowly. “I guess before living with oppa, I didn’t.” 

At this thought, she seemed to eat with renewed energy. As the two of them were finishing, Yoo Joonghyuk reappeared, freshly washed. 

“We should get going,” he told them, glancing at the time on his watch.

Dokja looked over and swore internally, his mouth folding in. Joonghyuk’s hair was still wet, lustrous strands clinging to his smooth skin in a way that made his stomach do weird things. 

“What?” Yoo Joonghyuk raised a perfect brow, catching his stare. 

Dokja blinked away, what was wrong with him this morning? 

“Nothing!” he responded with fake cheer, avoiding his eyes. “Let’s hurry, we don’t want to be late!” 

They quickly cleaned up and got on their way. Luckily, Mia was able to make it to school just before the first bell rang. 

Dokja didn’t speak the rest of the ride to Nebula, too busy wallowing in his own embarrassment and wondering what in the world had gotten into him. 

“Master!” Lee Jihye came bounding up to Yoo Joonghyuk the moment he stepped in the doors. Seolhwa looked up as well from her reception desk. “I don’t have school today! I get to be here all day.”

“Shouldn’t you be hanging out with friends then instead of coming to work?” Dokja asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“I don’t have time to dawdle around like that if I want to become the best gamer in the country like Master,” she rolled her eyes at him. Dokja snorted. 

Jihye was about to throw out another retort when she abruptly stopped in her tracks, staring at the two of them as if something had hit her. 

“What? Has it dawned on you that you shouldn’t be wasting your youth slaving away for a corporate overlord?” Dokja teased. She didn’t rise to the taunt and only continued to dart her eyes between him and Yoo Joonghyuk. 

“Did you and Master… come to the office together this morning?” she slowly asked. 

“Huh? Oh, well we-,” Dokja was about to explain the situation but found himself stopping. The mental image of him cuddling up to Yoo Joonghyuk entered his mind again, and his face flushed with heat. He chided himself, there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for why the other man had spent the night after all. But on the other hand, Seolhwa was standing right there. Would she misunderstand? 

Lee Jihye was still peering up at him, waiting for his response. Dokja cleared his throat.

“We just happened to arrive at the same time, is all.”

She scrunched her eyebrows, still slightly suspicious, but then shrugged. To his relief, she seemed to accept the answer and returned her attention to Yoo Joonghyuk, badgering him with questions about going to lunch together later. 

With those two distracted, Dokja crept up to the front desk to pick up his visitor’s badge. 

“Good morning, Dokja-ssi,” Seolhwa greeted him with a warm smile. 

“Nice to see you, Seolhwa-ssi,” he replied, his eyes guiltily averted. He felt bad for lying, but it was so that he didn’t cause any misunderstandings between the couple - not that there was actually anything to hide. Joonghyuk could just tell her what happened later if he felt like it. 

“It’s nice to see that you and Joonghyuk have gotten closer,” she said cheerfully, handing him his pass.

“Oh, have we?” Dokja laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head. “I suppose a little bit.” 

He thanked her for the badge and quickly escaped. 

The rest of the day dragged by. Dokja shadowed Yoo Joonghyuk as normal but kept himself at a distance, still feeling awkward from the morning. 

Near the end of the day, Yoo Joonghyuk was having a rare quiet work period at his desk, going over footage of the trainees’ gameplay. Dokja sat at the temporary desk provided to him nearby, working on his story. 

Baram came over with a pinched look on his face and dropped a stack of files on Yoo Joonghyuk’s desk. 

“Seolhwa told me that you haven’t looked these over yet.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk slowly took off his headphones, and turned to face his manager with a stony face. 

“No, I haven’t.” 

“Why not? I told you that they needed to be reviewed by last week. Some of the biggest sponsorship deals of your career are about to be closed, not to mention all the launch parties lined up for spring and summer that you need to attend.” Baram massaged the bridge of his nose in irritation. 

“If these are going to happen whether I review the documents or not, what does it matter?” Yoo Joonghyuk replied, deadpan. 

Baram made a noise of frustration. “You know very well that it would not look good to these brands if the ambassador they’ve paid millions for takes zero interest in working with them.”

“Then maybe they should’ve chosen an idol or model to be their ambassador, whoever’s job it is to sell whatever garbage they’re trying to sell.”

“No matter your disdain for the entertainment industry Joonghyuk, that is what you are: an entertainer.” Baram hardened his voice. “Whether you like it or not, this garbage as you put it, is what’s required for you to make it in this industry.”

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t respond to this. 

“Have these reviewed by Monday. I mean it.” With that, Baram stalked away. 

Dokja watched as Joonghyuk put his headphones back on and unpaused the gameplay footage he had been reviewing. After a moment, he slid the papers that Baram had left into his bag with a barely audible sigh. 

Dokja returned his attention to his own work, pensive. For a few minutes, his fingers stayed unmoving atop his keyboard. Then, he began typing. 

An hour of ceaseless writing later, he stood up to stretch his arms. He checked the time on his phone. 

“I’m going to head out for the day,” Dokja announced, packing up his bag. Yoo Joonghyuk nodded and began to pack his things up as well. 

“Wait, you can stay.” Dokja gave him a look of confusion. “Aren’t you still in the middle of that video?” 

“Don’t you need a ride home?” 

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m old enough to take public transportation by myself.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk shot him a glare. “I have to go pick up Mia from Yoosung’s anyway.” 

“I’m not going home,” he shook his head. “But thanks for the offer, really.” 

Dokja made to leave, but it seemed the other man was not finished with the conversation. “Where are you going?” 

“What’s with the sudden curiousity?” Dokja asked, amused. “You’ve never asked so many questions before.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk made a face. Dokja squinted his eyes, tilting his head. If he didn’t know better, it almost looked as if the man was sulking. 

“Suit yourself,” Joonghyuk turned away quickly, sitting back down at his desk. 

Dokja chuckled. He lifted his bag up and gave the grump a little pat on his shoulder as he walked off.

“Have a good weekend, Yoo Joonghyuk. Don’t miss me too much.” 

He sped off before the other could throttle him.

-

Dokja stood in front of a pair of heavy cafe doors. The storefront was gilded in gold with some French name adorning the top in sweeping cursive. It looked like a place that would charge $10 for a cup of coffee and probably had eight different options for milk. It certainly wasn’t his usual scene, but he hadn’t chosen it.

With a deep breath, he pushed open the doors. The aroma of coffee beans and sugary pastries fanned over his face. He scanned the tables for warm, chestnut hair. 

In the corner booth, the person in question looked up and raised her hand in a slight wave. Dokja walked over, awkwardly tugging at his shirt and wondering if he should’ve worn something nicer today. Everyone in the cafe looked extremely polished. 

“Hello Dokja-ssi.” Yoo Sangah stood up to greet him as he approached the table. 

“Nice to see you, Yoo Sangah-ssi,” he responded, giving her a quick smile before sitting down across from her. She followed suit. 

“This place sure is fancy,” he said, gesturing around them. 

“Oh,” she glanced around. “Would you rather go somewhere else?” 

“No, no! This is great,”  he quickly amended, shaking his head.

Sangah gave an apologetic smile. “I should’ve remembered that Dokja-ssi doesn’t enjoy such places. I’m sorry.” 

“No, really it’s okay!” He gave a little laugh. “We’re not broke interns anymore, I don’t know why I still live as if I am.” 

Her smile widened. “Being frugal is a good trait to have.” 

“If Sangah-ssi says so.” 

There was a moment of silence. Dokja’s eyes searched around for something to look at, before he landed on the menus in front of them. 

“Have you been here before?” he asked quickly, eager to fill the gap in conversation. 

“Yes, I often come with friends.” 

“What would you recommend?” 

Sangah turned the menu towards her and looked over it with a thoughtful face. 

“All their coffees are quite good. And for dessert, I enjoy their croffles,” she suggested. 

“Okay, I’ll get that then.” Dokja waved down a nearby waiter. He ordered an iced Americano with a cinnamon croffle, while she decided on just a latte.

“I’m about to have dinner afterwards,” she explained after the waiter left. Dokja nodded. 

“How have you been?” This time it was Yoo Sangah who spoke up first. “How are things at Eden?”

“They’re good, same as usual.” He folded his hands into his lap, thumbs slightly fidgeting against each other. 

“It’s been two years there now, right? Do you have plans to switch publications anytime soon?”

“Why? Did you want to poach me?” Dokja joked, mouth pulling up tentatively. Sangah laughed lightly. 

“You’re one of the most talented journalists I know. Olympus would probably be happy to take you in,” she said with sincerity. “But I have a feeling that it’s not something you would want.” 

Slightly embarrassed at her compliments, Dokja looked down at his hands.

“No, I suppose working at a publication as large as Olympus has never appealed to me very much.” Then, realizing how this could be misconstrued, he quickly continued, “not that there's anything wrong with it. Olympus is a great magazine, of course.” 

Sangah gave a gentle smile and waved his words away. “I know what Dokja-ssi means, don’t worry. I know that at Eden you’re given far more creative freedom than you ever would from a major magazine.” 

He nodded. “Uriel is a handful sometimes, but she doesn’t pigeonhole me.”

“I’m envious sometimes,” she rested her face on her palm, “of the liberty you’re able to have in your writing.” 

At this, Dokja wasn’t sure what to say and awkwardly looked away again. Luckily, the drinks and food arrived, breaking the air. The waiter placed the plate between them. The pastry glistened with syrup, topped with a swirl of cream and dusted in cinnamon sugar. 

He pushed it slightly towards her. “Have some. I won’t be able to finish it.” 

She picked up her fork and took a graceful bite. Dokja followed by example and savoured the delicately sweet flavour in his mouth.

“It’s really good,” he commented, taking a sip of his coffee. Sangah smiled again.

“Having dessert with you again like this really reminds me of Mr. Yoon’s birthday.” Her lips turned up even more. Dokja’s eyes bulged out at the memory. 

“Don’t bring that up,” he groaned. “I’ve tried my best to erase that day from my mind.” 

Sangah laughed with a hand to her mouth. “Really? I look back on that day pretty fondly. We worked so hard to deliver his birthday cake on time.” 

“That’s because you weren’t the one who almost got fired,” Dokja let out a chuckle despite himself. It was pretty funny thinking back now. “You were always editor-nim’s favourite, even though I’m the one who carried that thing for two hours in the rain.” 

“Dokja-ssi really put in his all,” she agreed amiably. 

“Only to get yelled at!” Dokja blurted, recalling his indignation and feeling wronged all over again.

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t know Mr. Yoon was allergic to chocolate.” Sangah soothed, just like she did back then.

“The aftermath was arguably worse,” he pointed out. The two hadn’t been willing to let such an expensive cake go to waste. And so they did what any couple of broke interns fresh out of journalism school would’ve done - they ate the whole thing themselves. Then subsequently paid the price the next day. 

The two of them burst into laughter simultaneously at the memory, so loud that a few people from nearby tables looked over at them. 

“I’ve never really eaten chocolate ever since then,” Sangah admitted between laughs. “I think it ruined it for me.” 

“That’s pretty understandable.” 

After a moment, the two quieted down again. Somehow this time around, the silence didn’t feel so stifling. 

“This is nice,” she said after a pause.

“What is?”

“For us to chat and laugh like this.” 

“It is,” Dokja replied, surprising himself. He had forgotten that before everything went wrong, they’d been good friends from the beginning. 

He bit his lip. Perhaps now would be okay to ask a question he’d been wanting to ask for a long time. “Were you ever angry at me?” 

She didn’t respond at first, as if thinking about how to answer with care.

“A little bit,” Sangah finally said. Dokja looked down, his hands were fidgeting again. “But then I wasn’t.” 

He met her eyes. They were a bright hazel, familiar and kind.   

“We were young and things happen. You mess up and you grow and it’s nobody’s fault,” she shrugged. “I’m just grateful for the memories we can laugh about now.”

His heart twisted a little with guilt.

“There’s no need to feel guilty about the past," she leaned forward, reading his mind.

“Am I that easy to see through?” Dokja gave a wry grin. 

“Very,” she smiled back. “At least for people who have known you as long as Sooyoung and I.” 

“Ah, I almost forgot,” he rolled his eyes. “Sooyoung probably held a gun to your head to make you arrange this - I’m sorry about her.” 

Sangah gave a soft chuckle. “No, I wanted to have a coffee with you, really.” 

Dokja didn’t fully believe her, knowing Sooyoung there had to have been some sort of threat involved. But if there really was a reason, he was curious. “Why now?”

“I just missed my friend.” Her voice was gentle in a way that made his chest relax. She always did have a talent of making everyone around her feel at ease. 

“And regardless of anything that happened before, I want us to continue to be friends because Dokja-ssi in my eyes is a really great person.”

He took a breath, an uncharacteristic lump forming in his throat. "I'm not sure if I'm such a good person, especially since I know I never really gave you an explanation back then. I'm really sorry about that."

She shook her head. "Don't be sorry, none of that matters to me anymore. That doesn't change how I see you."

"I know there were things you weren't ready to tell me back then, and that's okay," Sangah continued. "I also want you to know that if you ever want to talk about them to me now, as a friend, I'm here for you still."

Her words settled around his shoulders like a downy-filled quilt. For a moment, Dokja couldn’t speak. Although she didn’t frame it as forgiveness - that’s what it felt like to him. And he didn’t realize that hearing it from her mouth would provoke this kind of emotion inside him.

“I’ve missed you too.” His voice quaked at the last word, and he cleared his throat. “If only because there isn’t anyone else who would agree to take on an entire, two-tier chocolate cake with me.” 

She laughed, the sound twinkled in the air and eased the serious atmosphere. 

“My body isn’t as it was at 22, but I would still try my very best.” 

Dokja joined in laughing as well, the painful lump in his throat melting away. And suddenly, as if there had been a weight chained to him all this time, his entire being felt just a little bit lighter.

Chapter Text

That weekend, Dokja brought Gilyoung and Yoosung to Yoo Joonghyuk’s apartment as they’d promised. Unsurprisingly, he lived in a ridiculously upscale complex. It was no wonder he had regarded Dokja’s apartment with such distaste. 

Yoo Mia opened the door for them and the kids greeted each other happily. 

“What are we gonna do today?” Gilyoung asked as all of them filed into the spacious and sparsely decorated apartment. 

Dokja half listened as Mia launched into an excited description of a new movie that had come out, his eyes sweeping around the home. It looked mostly as he expected - Joonghyuk’s taste was as monotone as ever, with barely a splash of colour in sight. Floor to ceiling windows covered the opposite wall, revealing an enviable view of the city. 

However, it wasn’t as meticulously spotless as he imagined it would be. Mia’s things were scattered around the place – her homework strewn across the coffee table and half-drawn artwork graced the dining area. It brought a sense of life and home to the otherwise too-polished apartment. Dokja wondered if Joonghyuk thought so too. After all, he could’ve made his sister tidy up, but had chosen not to. 

At this moment, Yoo Joonghyuk appeared at the kitchen entrance. 

“Kim Dokja.” 

“Yoo Joonghyuk,” Dokja cheerfully replied, sidling up to him. Joonghyuk was wearing a black apron, with the sleeves of his shirt neatly rolled up.

“Are you making something?” Dokja peeked eagerly behind him. 

“Dumplings.” 

“You’re really trying to challenge the spot in my heart for the best dumplings in Seoul?” he laughed, thinking back to Yoo Joonghyuk’s arrogant words from their first lunch together. Dokja hadn’t believed him then, but knowing now that the man was maddeningly talented at cooking, perhaps it was possible. 

“It’s barely a competition,” Yoo Joonghyuk said with a hint of smugness. 

“You’ve got a very inflated sense of self you know,” Dokja shook his head. He certainly wasn’t going to admit that his food was some of the best he had ever tasted and add to the bastard’s ego.  

“Oppa, we’re going to watch the new anime movie on Netflix!” Mia called over. The three kids had arranged themselves comfortably on the large, sectional couch. Yoo Joonghyuk nodded in response. 

“Ahjussi, do you want to watch with us?” Yoosung asked, peering over from where she was lying on her tummy. 

“I’ll come in a bit,” he replied with a smile. “I have to help Joonghyuk first with dinner.” 

“No, you won’t,” came the annoyed answer from behind him. Dokja turned around and eyed him contentiously. 

“You want me to sit and watch a movie with the kids while you make all the food yourself?” he huffed. “What do you take me for?” 

“I don’t need help.”

“Yes, I’ve come to realize the concept of help is new to you,” Dokja rolled his eyes. “Well, it doesn’t matter what you think you need – I’m giving it anyway.” 

He attempted to sidestep him into the kitchen, only to be stopped by a firm grip on his wrist. He froze in surprise at the sudden movement and felt his chest tingle. 

“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk growled. Dokja quickly shook away his fluster. 

“You can think of it as doing a favour for me, how about that?” he reasoned with sarcastic earnest. “My pride really wouldn’t be able to take it if you delegated me the responsibilities of a child.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk glared at him, and Kim Dokja glared right back, unwilling to back down. Finally the taller man relented, releasing his hold and giving a resigned sigh.

Dokja flashed his most charming grin. “I’ll be the best kitchen helper you’ve ever seen.” Yoo Joonghyuk only looked at him dubiously. 

The two entered the kitchen. There was a large bowl on the dark, granite counter, and tidy rolls of dough sitting next to it. Otherwise, the room was impressively clean. He wouldn't be surprised if he opened the mahogany cabinets to reveal immaculately organized pantry shelves.  

“I’ve already put all the ingredients for the filling together,” Joonghyuk gestured at the bowl. “You can mix it.” 

Dokja obediently took up the wooden stirring spoon. 

“But don’t overmix,” he added in a warning tone. “The meat will get tough.” 

“Yes chef,” Dokja affirmed with pretend gravity, earning another glower. Teasing aside, he did as instructed and carefully began to stir the filling to an even consistency. 

Next to him, Yoo Joonghyuk silently began to roll out the dumpling wrappers with surprising speed and efficacy. The lines of his forearms tightened with every turn of the rolling pin, and Dokja found his eyes being frustratingly defiant. 

“Were you a professional chef in another life?” Dokja voiced instead. “You’re rolling out that dough like you moonlight as a mandu shop owner on the weekends.” 

“I’ve had lots of practice,” Yoo Joonghyuk replied. There was a soft curve on his lips that Dokja liked. 

“Do you have a dumpling addiction or something?”

“If you do something long enough, you naturally get good at it.” His voice was haughty, eliciting a snort from the one still stirring the filling. Cocky bastard. 

“You’re admitting that you weren’t a dumpling-making prodigy as a child then. You were just a mere mortal like the rest of us,” Dokja ribbed, and was rewarded with the curve growing a bit wider.

“No, I was pretty good back then too.” Yoo Joonghyuk shrugged as if it was an indisputable fact and Dokja couldn’t help but crack up. He was imagining a tiny Yoo Joonghyuk rolling out dumpling wrappers with the seriousness of a surgeon in the middle of a heart procedure. 

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” he teased. “I don’t have very much dumpling making experience myself.” 

“If you like the recipe, I can teach you some time.”

The words came from Yoo Joonghyuk’s mouth casually, as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world to say. And it was. It was perfectly normal – but why did Dokja’s stomach just flip itself inside out?

“Did someone teach you?” he asked quickly, too quickly. 

The air stilled and he realized instantly it was the wrong question to ask. The small curve disappeared. 

The response came a beat later. “No. I did it by myself.” 

There was a moment of silence that seemed to stretch for ages. Dokja’s gaze flickered to Joonghyuk’s face. His jaw was clenched tight. Dokja set the mixing bowl down. 

“I think the filling is done,” he announced loudly, changing the topic. “I’ll flour the wrappers so they don’t get sticky in our hands later.” 

Dokja grabbed a handful of flour from the bag sitting on the counter. 

“I already added some to the counter surface,” Yoo Joonghyuk objected irritatedly. 

“They need more! Those ones you just made barely have any on them.” Dokja reached over to sprinkle over the circular wrappers. Yoo Joonghuk grabbed his arm to stop him, lightning fast. 

“You’ll dry them out too much,” he gritted out. 

Dokja tried to push his hand away, only for Joonghyuk to seize him with his other arm. They struggled like that for several seconds before Dokja relented to the other’s superior strength and let go - forgetting that the hand now being held in midair still contained a fistful of flour.

The white powder spattered against Yoo Joonghyuk, hitting him squarely in the face and chest. It dusted everything from his hair, his nose, to his previously spotless apron. At the sight, Dokja burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, bending over with a hand to his stomach. 

The murderous rage rolling off of Yoo Joonghyuk was palpable, the air practically crackling with his temper. However, looking like the victim of a horribly unfortunate baking accident as he did, Dokja was having a hard time taking the daggers shooting from his eyes seriously. 

“I-I’m so sorry!” Dokja managed out, gasping for air. 

“Kim-” 

“Dokja,” he finished Yoo Joonghyuk’s sentence, still wiping tears from his eyes. “Yes, Kim Dokja, I know that’s me. No need to threateningly utter my name.” 

With an annoyed huff, Yoo Joonghyuk turned to grab a kitchen towel and roughly swept the mess off of himself as much as possible. The dour, scrunched up expression he was wearing nearly sent Dokja into a fresh round of giggles, but he bit it back for the sake of his own life. 

“Let me help, you missed some spots.” Dokja calmed himself down and had the decency to feel slightly bad. The man was a neat freak after all, and now he had dirtied him along with his kitchen. 

“This only happened because you were helping,” Joonghyuk retorted. 

“Really, I’m sorry.” Dokja stepped closer and pried the towel out of his hand. However, up close he could now see that there was even flour scattered atop his long lashes, and he had to stifle back another laugh. 

“You don’t seem very apologetic,” the taller man remarked with a raised eyebrow. 

Dokja brought his hand up and gave Yoo Joonghyuk’s face some careful wipes. There were small bits of flour on the edges of his forehead and just below his brows that he brushed away. And then, even though they were already clean, he skimmed the sharp lines of his cheeks and smooth slope of his nose, just for good measure. He was slow, not wanting to miss a single speck, he told himself. 

His eyes wandered with the movement of his hand, until he’d covered every inch and they finally landed on Yoo Joonghyuk’s dark ones. 

Dokja’s breath stopped in his throat. The blistering force behind those eyes made it impossible to remember how to continue.

He hastily retreated several steps and abandoned the towel on the counter. What was he doing, ogling at Yoo Joonghyuk’s inhumanly attractive face when he was probably seconds away from being cut down by him? 

“Let’s start wrapping the dumplings,” Dokja suggested overbrightly, cutting the tense air with a quick knife. “The kids will be hungry soon.”

Hopefully Yoo Joonghyuk would be merciful, if only for the fact that his sister was just in the next room. 

Thankfully, it seemed the other was in a forgiving mood and agreeably returned to their workstation. After half an hour of squabbling over Dokja’s folding techniques, they were finally able to get the mandu into the steamer. He admired their (mostly Yoo Joonghyuk’s) handiwork before placing the lid to let them cook. 

“I haven’t had homemade dumplings in forever,” Dokja gleefully rubbed his hands together. Joonghyuk gave him a sideways glance.

“You can go now, I’m just going to make the dipping sauce.” 

This time, Dokja dutifully left the kitchen as told. He couldn’t remember the last time he put so much effort into cooking something. It was really quite tiring, he didn’t know how Yoo Joonghyuk managed to do it apparently everyday for him and Mia. 

He quietly slipped into the couch beside Lee Gilyoung. After watching for a few minutes, he realized it was a remake of an old action anime from the 90’s. 

“Why do studios always recycle material?” he wondered out loud. The three kids turned with confusion on their faces. 

Dokja pointed at the screen. “This is just a remake of an old movie."

“Are you sure, ahjussi?” Yoosung asked tentatively. He looked at her in horror. 

“You’ve never heard of the title before? It was one of the most popular animes back in the day,” he spluttered in disbelief. “They’ve made it with fancy new CGI but the story is still clearly the same.” 

Mia rolled her eyes. “And you ask why we call you ahjussi.” 

“Don’t be mean to hyung!” Gilyoung argued. “It’s not his fault he’s old.” 

Yoosung shot him an apologetic look, but could only helplessly shrug her shoulders. 

Dokja leaned back against his seat, feeling faint. He decided to make no further comments, lest he be attacked for his age again. The original had been one of his favourites as a kid, but as he watched, he found himself begrudgingly enjoying the smooth new visuals. 

“I liked the original,” came a voice behind him. At some indeterminate point of time, Yoo Joonghyuk had come to stand by the sofa.

Dokja took this opportunity to defend himself. “See? He knows it too!” 

“Can we watch it together some time, oppa?” Yoo Mia looked up with innocent eyes at her brother. Joonghyuk nodded. Dokja crossed his arms sullenly at the clear bias. 

“I’ll watch it too! With you, hyung,” Gilyoung told Dokja loyally. 

“We can all watch it together,” Yoosung piped up, ever the mediator. 

“Yeah!” Gilyoung agreed. “Next time we all have a sleepover again.” 

“Sleepover?” Dokja raised his eyebrows quizzically. 

“Like the one we had at ahjussi’s place,” Mia explained.

“It was so fun! Can we do it again soon?” Yoosung asked excitedly. 

“Oh.” Dokja rubbed the back of his head, embarrassment flooding his cheeks once again at the memory. “That was probably a one-time thing.” 

The kids all whined in disappointment. Dokja looked over helplessly at Yoo Joonghyuk, but was met with only a blank expression. He probably didn’t want to remember it anymore than Dokja did. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Joonghyuk said instead. Relieved, Dokja shot up and ushered the children to the dining table.

“We worked really hard on these so you better like them,” he joked.

“Oppa made them so obviously they’ll be good,” Mia replied. 

“Ahjussi is pretty good at cooking too,” Yoosung offered. 

Gilyoung nodded in agreement. “Hyung doesn’t do it often because he loves eating ramen so much, but when he does it’s yummy!” Dokja’s eye twitched. 

Yoo Joonghyuk had set down plates for each of them, with dipping sauce accompanying. Dokja eagerly sat down and immediately stuffed one in his mouth.

He burnt his tongue as usual but it was worth it, his expression forming into one of blissful contentment. The outside was supple, while the filling was fragrant and pillowy. The meat was perfectly tender, due to his amazing mixing skills obviously. 

Dokja was already halfway through his third mandu when he noticed Yoo Joonghyuk watching him expectantly. He swallowed his bite and feigned nonchalance. 

“I suppose your dumplings might be slightly better than halmeoni’s,” he said coyly. “But only because you had such a talented sous chef.” 

Joonghyuk scowled as usual, but Dokja could see that he was actually quite pleased at the feedback. The relaxed way he held his jaw and the subtle softening in his eyes told him so. 

The kids were chattering among themselves when suddenly, Mia turned to Dokja. 

“Ahjussi, how did your date go?” 

Dokja choked on his dumpling. “What?!” 

“You know, the one with that Yoo Sangah lady,” she said impatiently. He saw Gilyoung and Yoosung lean in as well, curious to hear the answer. Yoosung looked a bit nervous though, her eyes flickering to Yoo Joonghyuk. 

“Mia, what did I tell you about spreading rumours?” he frowned at her. 

“Ten-year-olds can’t go to jail,” she shot back triumphantly. “I looked it up!” 

“I told you three already, it wasn’t a date,” he sighed. He looked over at Joonghyuk who was back to glaring at him with the intensity of a thousand suns. Perhaps he shouldn’t have threatened arrest on his little sister. 

He considered lying for a moment, before giving in to the scrutinizing gaze of three much too meddlesome children. “She’s just someone I once dated.” 

Their jaws dropped. 

“Ahjussi’s had a girlfriend before?” Yoosung shrieked, the pitch reaching glass shattering levels. The three of them were looking a tad too shocked for his liking. 

“I can’t believe it,” Mia shook her head.

“Well, I’m not surprised,” Gilyoung declared, recovering quickly. “Hyung is a great guy!” 

“He’s not very good-looking.” Mia pointed out. “Honestly, I was already surprised when I thought someone had asked him out.” 

“Looks aren’t everything!” 

“I think ahjussi is handsome!” 

Dokja tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling, wishing very much that some higher power would strike him down at this moment. Any calamity would do, just to escape from this conversation that was happening in front of Yoo Joonghyuk of all people. 

“Ahjussi, are you still in love with her?” Yoosung turned her attention away from the other two who were still bickering. Despite the prying question, she asked with such a sincere and serious expression that he couldn’t help but pat her head fondly. 

“No, we’re just friends now,” he replied. 

“So it really wasn’t a date?” 

He gave a small smile. “No, it was just two friends catching up.” 

She nodded sagely, while Mia and Gilyoung looked slightly crestfallen that he didn’t have anything juicier to tell them. 

Relieved that they didn’t prod anymore, Dokja poked at his plate for another dumpling only to find it empty. He gave a little frown – how had he eaten all of them so fast? 

A pair of chopsticks stretched across the table and delivered an extra onto his plate before retracting. Dokja looked up at the generous donator and gave his brightest, cheekiest grin. 

“You’re the best, Joonghyuk-ah.” 

-

After dinner, the kids went back to the living area to finish their movie while the two men cleaned up. They worked comfortably side by side together over the sink. 

“Sometimes, I think your little sister has it out for me,” Dokja chuckled, drying the dishes that Joonghyuk handed to him. 

“She likes you,” he replied, his voice an edge softer as it always was when he talked about Mia. 

“Are you sure?” Dokja gave another amused laugh. “Then she must’ve learned from your terrible social skills.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk shot him a dirty look, but it melted away as quick as it came. 

“She’s open with you,” he said after a moment. “She usually… has her guard up to most people. Our parents didn’t give her much reason to trust anyone since they were never around.” 

Dokja’s hands slowed on the bowl he was drying. He glanced up, but the other man’s face was carefully neutral. It was the first time he’d ever outright mentioned their family, and he said it so clinically, without any hint of warmth at the word “parents”.

“Maybe,” Dokja started hesitantly. “Maybe she’s become more open because she has someone looking out for her now. Someone she feels safe with.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk looked over at his words, and Dokja met his gaze with a little smile. 

There was that expression again. His eyes dark and commanding, pinning him to the spot and stealing the air from his lungs. A sweep of hair fell across his brow, and Dokja fought the urge to brush it to the side. He wondered idly if it would feel soft. It looked soft. 

He suddenly became hyperaware of a million things happening at once. His heart was pounding as if it wanted to escape from his ribs. A prickling heat spread across his chest. He couldn’t rip his eyes away and the room had abruptly become much, much too warm. 

What was going on? Why was he feeling like this? 

Could it be–

No, it couldn’t possibly.

Unless– 

Oh no. 

Oh no.

Chapter Text

“Back again today?” 

Kim Dokja looked up from where he was sitting at his desk to find Bihyung peering over his cubicle wall with a perplexed look. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at Nebula?” 

Dokja shifted in his seat. “I’ve gotten most of the material I need.” 

“Are you sure?” Bihyung furrowed his brows. “Because I’ve caught you staring into blank space like five times over the past two days.” 

He let out a tight, strangled noise that he tried to pass off as a chuckle. “Bihyung sun-nim, don’t you have anything better to do than to spy on your poor, overworked junior staff?” 

Bihyung gave an irritated grunt and moved away to go sit at his own desk. 

“Why do I bother with that little twat?” Dokja could hear him mumble under his breath. 

However, he was grateful to the older man for shaking him out of his reverie. He had, in fact, been staring blankly at his screen for the past twenty minutes. A certain someone’s stupidly beautiful face with their stupidly broad chest and their… anyway. Dokja was just a little distracted. 

He took a deep breath and pushed the useless images from his mind. The deadline for the article was two days away and he still wasn’t quite finished. It was true what he said – the notes he’d gathered over the past couple weeks were likely enough for him to get it done. However, he was feeling conflicted about the tone of the story. It had ended up going a direction that he hadn’t expected, and he wasn’t sure what Uriel would think. 

Dokja decided that it wouldn’t hurt to ask. 

He found himself outside the ornate white and gold doors of her office and gave a tentative knock. 

“Come in!” trilled a singsong voice. 

He pushed the doors open and stepped into the sunny office. The space had large windows that were blasted wide open, light streaming in so intensely that he had to blink several times for his eyes to adjust. 

“You sure keep it bright in here,” he commented.

She was sitting languidly at her desk, twirling a pen. Flashing a big grin at the sight of Dokja, Uriel waved him over. 

“I like all the light,” Uriel replied cheerfully. “It makes me feel closer to the sky.” 

As usual, she spoke in riddles. 

Dokja approached her and sank down into one of the multitudes of cushy chairs placed around her desk. 

“What can I do for you, Dokja?” Uriel asked, putting aside whatever draft she’d just been reading.

“I’m nearly finished with the esports piece, but I wanted to have you take a look and see what you think.” He hesitated for a moment before saying, “I’m not sure if this was the direction you were expecting.” 

“I can, but I’m sure it’s great,” she said, giving him a kind look that filled him with somewhat more ease. 

It was moments like this that helped him remember that aside from her sporadic eccentricity, Uriel was a pretty good editor to work for. She somehow always believed in his writing, even when he didn’t himself. 

Dokja passed over his laptop and scrolled to the top of his draft. She settled into her seat and began to read. 

With the lack of anything else to do but wait, his eyes strayed around the office and realized that he had never spent any proper time in here before. He had popped in briefly numerous times to hand in drafts but usually when they took meetings it’d be in the conference room, or she would just approach his desk directly. 

Uriel, true to her personality, had interesting taste to say the least. Dokja wasn’t sure how to describe it but she had decorated her office like the halls of a godly palace. He would usually deem the decor to be gaudy if it were anywhere else, but it felt perfectly fitting placed around her, almost with Uriel as the centrepiece herself.

However, something caught his eye that looked out of theme. In the back, nearly hidden away behind a cherubic sculpture, was a wall full of framed pictures of different sizes. Upon closer inspection, he could see that they were magazine covers, photo cards, and even full-size posters. Dokja’s eyes widened when he recognized that stupid, familiar face on them, the one he had been trying very hard not to think about. 

Yoo Joonghyuk? 

He instantly recognized some of the pictures – he’d come across many of the star’s photoshoots while doing research (yes, definitely research). Dokja had no idea Uriel was such a huge fan. Was this the reason she’d been so eager about this story in the first place? 

“Dokja,” Uriel spoke up and he snapped out of his bewilderment.

“Yes?”

“You’re right, this wasn’t what I was expecting.” 

His stomach lurched. She wouldn’t make him rewrite the whole thing, would she?

“But it’s even better than I would’ve imagined,” Uriel broke out into a beam. She handed back the computer. “It’s honest and refreshing.”

Dokja breathed out in relief. “I’m happy editor-nim likes it.”

“Of course I love it!” she exclaimed. “Dokja, you shouldn’t ever doubt your ability to tell a story.” 

“I will say though, this article probably won’t be what Nebula was expecting either,” she continued, musing. “They may have some thoughts about it.” 

He nodded. “Yes, I know. I’ll be ready for whatever it is they have to say.” 

“As long as you know that,” she agreed. “But that’s how we work here - we write what is real to us.” 

Uriel paused for a moment, her expression changing into something more frivolous. “Also, the way you’ve written Yoo Joonghyuk feels very personal. It feels like you’ve really gotten to know him and his thoughts. You captured the complex relationship he has with his career strikingly well.”

Dokja reddened and coughed. “I just shadowed him as you asked, that's all.” 

His eyes drifted to the photo frames again. “Are you a fan of the Supreme King?” 

Uriel followed his gaze, and immediately lit up when she saw what he was looking at. 

“So you’ve seen my collection! How embarrassing,” she giggled, not sounding the least bit embarrassed. “Yes, I’m a huge fan. Which is why I’m even more impressed by how much I’ve learned about him from reading your story – I had thought I knew every fact there was to know about him!”  

“I didn’t know this about editor-nim,” he mumbled. Why was he the one feeling flustered? 

“Now that you’re so close with him, maybe you could get me a signature?” She fluttered her lashes hopefully. Dokja felt faint and slightly dubious at the propriety of this request. 

“We’re not that close,” he said quickly, his voice coming out more garbled than intended. Really, how unlucky could he be? The very man he was working so hard to keep from his mind just had to be the one that his boss had posters plastered across her office of. 

Before she could open her mouth to protest, Dokja got up hastily and retreated towards the door. He was too panicked to mind his manners, frazzled at the prospect of Uriel grilling him any more about his relationship with the gamer.

“Thank you so much for your feedback, the draft will be ready by Friday.” 

With that, he made his escape and fled back to his desk. He slumped down in his chair and dragged a tired hand through his hair. 

What an unequivocal mess. 

-

Han Sooyoung had a rare night off and thus dragged Dokja out to barbecue. As much as he needed to finish the story, the promise of meat was too enticing to turn down. 

“How’s Yoo Joonghyuk?” she asked absent-mindly once all the food was cooking. She struggled to flip the strips of samgyeopsal over the hot grill between them. 

Dokja gave a frustrated sound and threw down his chopsticks. “Can’t anyone go ten minutes without bringing up that bastard?”

Sooyoung threw him a strange look from across the table, bewildered at his sudden fit. “Whoa, sorry. I didn’t know the guy would be such a touchy topic.”

Embarrassment immediately flooded him at his own overreaction. He took a breath and picked up his utensils again. “Sorry, I’m probably just stressed about the deadline,” he lied. 

To busy himself, he reached over to take the tongs from her and proceeded to flip the slices. 

“Right,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “What? Did you two blockheads get into a fight today or something?” 

“No,” he grumbled. “I haven’t even gone to Nebula this week.” 

She narrowed her eyes. “Yah, you idiot. Are you avoiding him?” 

Dokja shifted under her stare, unwilling to meet it. “No, I’m just trying to finish the story in time. I’ve got all the information I need.” 

“So why are you avoiding him?” she pushed, completely ignoring his statement. 

“I’m not,” he protested, setting down the tongs. 

Sooyoung just rolled her eyes, and popped a piece of barbecued meat into her mouth. “You can fool yourself, but you can’t fool me.” 

He chewed on his own food silently for a few minutes, brain hurting for the nth time that week.

“Alright, fine,” he finally caved, dragging out a long breath. “It’s possible that I’m avoiding him because I feel like… it’s no longer professional for me to be around him.” 

She cackled in mirth at this admission, a gleeful glint in her eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

Groaning, Dokja put a hand over his face. He had a feeling she knew exactly what he meant, but was forcing him to say it out loud. 

“I mean,” he gritted. “I think I might have developed… a tiny crush.” 

Her laughter intensified, rising to a volume that people around them in the restaurant began to look over with curiousity. 

“Oh, this is good,” she managed out, tears dotting the corners of her eyes. “This is really good.”

“Is it really that funny?” he asked, deadpan. She nodded fervently.

“Yes, it really is,” she dabbed her eyes dry. “I mean I knew it was possible, but for you to actually admit it–”

“What do you mean, you knew?” he questioned accusingly. 

“Oh please, the way you two looked at each other at Hyunsung’s party,” she waved dismissively. “It almost made me want to vomit.”

He balked at her words. Had he been so obviously infatuated all this time, and just hadn’t known it? Dokja wanted to shrivel into himself in humiliation. No wonder Yoo Joonghyuk regarded him with such disdain. Maybe he had been able to tell as well. 

“Anyway, this whole thing ends once I finish the story,” he muttered, fighting the heat on his face. “I’ll be free of him, and that’s that.” 

“Aren’t you still going to his sister’s recital?” she pointed out, amused. 

Dokja groaned internally. He’d nearly forgotten about Mia’s performance that weekend. At least, Yoo Joonghyuk would be busy with his tournament and so he likely wouldn’t have to see him at all. 

“Okay, fine, after that then.”

“Isn’t his sister like best friends with the kids you’re always looking after?” 

He ground his teeth.

“Alright, maybe I can’t avoid him forever,” he admitted. “But I’ll lay low at least until I’m not harbouring these dumb feelings anymore. All I need is some time and space to get over it.” 

Sooyoung leaned in, hand on her cheek and looking like she was enjoying this all way too much. 

“I mean there’s really no accounting for taste,” she smirked. “But is it so wrong for you to finally have the touch of another human after so long?” 

“Why do you make me sound like a sad, desperate virgin?” he complained. “First of all, it’s completely unprofessional.” 

“Like you said, the story will be finished this week. What’s stopping you then?” 

Dokja bristled. “That’s not the point! Anyway, second of all, he has a girlfriend.” 

At this, she looked utterly confused. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “And even if he didn’t, why would I like this man? He has the personality of a rock, except if the rock had eyes and constantly looked like it wanted to murder you.” 

And why would he like me? Was what a scornful little voice also whispered in his heart.

“Well, no arguments from me there,” his best friend shrugged, oblivious to his vicious thoughts. “I always say, the most beautiful men always come with the worst personalities.” 

He shook his head. “Let’s stop talking about the bastard. How’s the drama going?” 

Thankfully, Sooyoung allowed him to change the topic. 

“Smooth, as a matter of fact. We’re going through the last few scenes now and the cast have begun their press tour,” she said, wrapping up a piece of pork belly in lettuce. 

“So you can finally start regularly updating again?” he asked, hopeful. She gave him a cocky smile in return.

“Yes, my most loyal fan.” 

He rolled his eyes but he was, in actuality, very excited. Sooyoung had been updating much slower than normal during the production of the drama and it’d been hard for him, being the spoiled reader that he was, usually being the first to see her writing. 

“Speaking of the press tour,” she started, voice uncharacteristically tentative. “Yoo Sangah came in to interview the crew for Olympus and I ran into her again.” 

“How was it?” he asked, surprised at how okay he felt at the mention of her name. That guilt that used to feel so omnipresent was still there, but it no longer seized him like a tidal wave, threatening to pull him down. 

“It was good.” 

Dokja tilted his head, waiting for more.

“Now that you two have patched up,” she said slowly. “Do you think, maybe the three of us could hang out again some time? Like the old days?” 

The look of surprise on his face must’ve been palpable, because she quickly continued. “Only if you feel ready and want to, that is. It doesn’t have to be anytime soon.” 

It was strange to see Han Sooyoung of all people look so uncertain, and it softened something in him. 

“If you want to spend time with her, there’s no need to be guilty just because we used to date,” he said sincerely. “Sangah’s a great person and an even better friend to have.” 

Her shoulders relaxed a little, but there was still a hint of something bothering her in her eyes. Perhaps Sooyoung had been hoping the three of them could go back to the way things were in university.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to hang out with her regularly just yet,” he admitted. “But I think we could be good friends again eventually.” 

With this, she looked more relieved. 

“You’re so open to new friendships lately huh,” Sooyoung’s taunting smirk came back, lightning fast as usual to recover from any moment of sentimentality. “Looks like I don’t need to worry about finding you new caretakers after all.” 

“Don’t worry,” Dokja snorted. “You’d still be the first to find me dead in my apartment if I ever choked on my food.” 

“It would be my honour.” And the two burst into familiar laughter. 

-

The next day, he couldn’t hide away any longer. 

He had finally finished the article in the late hours of last night and today was meant to be his last day shadowing Yoo Joonghyuk at Nebula. There were only minor edits to make and so he likely could’ve not returned to the office at all, but it would’ve been unprofessional and disrespectful to not at least thank and say goodbye to the Nebula staff he’d been working so closely with for almost a month. Especially as there was a chance that the company’s management was not going to be entirely happy with the final piece, he wanted to minimize the potential damage as much as possible. 

Also, perhaps he wanted to see Yoo Joonghyuk one more time before he no longer had an excuse to accompany him everyday. It was a strange battle of emotions inside him – eager to see the man after not having spoken in several days, but also terrified of seeing him all the same after this new revelation.

Standing outside the building doors, he shook his head to ground himself. He’d only known the gamer for mere weeks, and he was acting this dramatic. It was just a little crush, he told himself again. He would forget all about it in no time. 

“Ahjussi? What are you doing just standing there?” Lee Jihye came up from behind him. 

“Good morning Jihye,” Dokja greeted tiredly. She pushed open the entrance and he followed her in. The two made their way up the elevator together. 

“Where’ve you been this past week? I haven’t seen you at all,” she crossed her arms.

He chuckled. “In case you forgot, I don’t actually work here.” 

Jihye rolled her eyes. “Well, master has been in a bad mood all week. He made us do ten practice runs yesterday. Ten! ” 

“He’s just making sure you’re ready for your first tournament next month,” Dokja shrugged. 

“Of course I’m ready,” she scoffed, puffing out her chest. “I'm the hardest working player on the junior team.” 

The elevator doors slid open and the two entered the lobby together. Lee Seolhwa stood up at the sight of them and gave a bright smile. 

“Good morning Jihye. Good morning Dokja-ssi, how have you been?”

“Hello Seolhwa-ssi, I’ve been well.” 

She passed him his guest pass as usual. “Let me call Joonghyuk and let him know you’re here today.” 

Dokja quickly shook his hands. “No it’s okay, no need to bother him. Today is my last day, and I’ve really just come in to say my goodbyes to everyone. I won’t be long.” 

Jihye let out a gasp of horror. “Your last day? Does master know about this?” 

“Yes,” he replied. “In fact, he’s probably been counting down the days.” 

“I’m sorry to see you go, Dokja-ssi,” Seolhwa shook her head, her sleek, silvery hair fluttering with grace. “It’s a shame you could only be with us for such a short period of time.” 

Dokja murmured some standard, polite response and quickly headed inside. If she knew that he was concealing feelings for her significant other, she likely wouldn’t feel so sad. Really, what was wrong with him, lusting after another person’s–

His thoughts were interrupted by an abrupt slam into a large, black wall. Dokja stumbled back, disoriented. 

“Kim Dokja.” 

He froze. That voice. That voice that was so low and velvet and–

Dokja straightened up. He obviously knew that he would see him today. Hoping to see him today, even, but he decided now that he was going to ignore that part. 

“Yoo Joonghyuk,” he greeted cheerfully, his eyes turning into little crescents. “Fancy running into you here. Literally.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk was glaring at him, the blades in his eyes sharp enough to take down a horde of beasts.

“Where have you been?” he demanded. 

Dokja laughed, the sound too high, too strained to his own ears. “Has everyone here forgotten that I have an actual job?” 

It looked like the other man was about to berate him, and so he quickly continued. “Don’t worry! It’s my last day, remember? I’ll be out of your hair soon, I’ve just come to say my thanks for all the hospitality.” 

At that moment, Baram appeared in the hallway. Dokja breathed out in relief and quickly sidestepped Yoo Joonghyuk.

“Manager-nim! I’ve come to say goodbye.”

Baram looked up in surprise. “Oh Dokja-ssi, I almost forgot. Today’s your last day with us, isn't it?"

He nodded. “I’m sure the team will be glad to be rid of me, pestering them while they work.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the manager waved his words off. “It’s been a pleasure. In fact, we definitely have to take you out to lunch today as a thank you.” 

Dokja shook his head quickly. “There’s no need for that.” He had been hoping for this last visit to be a swift in and out affair. 

“I insist,” Baram persisted. After several more rounds of persuasion, Dokja had no choice but to agree.

“Oh,” Baram turned to Yoo Joonghyuk who had been standing there with a silent glower the entire time. “Joonghyuk, we have a new trainee starting today. If you aren’t too busy wrapping up with Dokja-ssi, could you please handle their onboarding?” 

“We’re all finished,” Dokja jumped at this opportunity. “Joonghyuk, go ahead, don’t mind me.” 

He looked at Yoo Joonghyuk, and if it was possible, the man's expression darkened even further. Without another word, he nodded tersely at his manager and stalked away. 

The rest of the day went by in a whirlwind. Almost every employee at Nebula stopped to converse and give their farewells. Dokja was a bit surprised, he hadn’t realized he’d built such rapport at the esports company. He went to lunch with Baram and the other senior managers – luckily Joonghyuk was too busy with the new recruit that he didn’t join. 

At the end of the day, he bid goodbye to everyone. He promised Lee Jihye that he would be watching her tournament next month and cheering her on. He told Kim Namwoon that he would definitely try and come back to write a feature on him next time.

With it all behind him, Dokja stepped outside the glass doors of the building and took a deep breath. That was that.

He moved to take another step forward, but was stopped suddenly by a familiar, firm hand on his arm. He didn’t know when he’d learned to recognize the touch, but he knew instantly who it was. Forming a convincing smile on his face, Dokja turned around. 

“Yoo Joonghyuk. Here to say goodbye as well?” 

“No,” Joonghyuk responded, voice firm.

There was something in those eyes of his, those star-filled, piercing eyes that threatened to swallow him whole if he looked too long. Dokja averted his gaze. 

“Did I forget something upstairs?” he asked instead, even though he knew very well that he hadn’t. 

There was silence. As if Yoo Joonghyuk was debating what to say. 

“Are you still going to Mia’s recital?” he finally asked. Dokja let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Naturally, he was worried that his sister might be let down again. 

“Of course I am,” he said. “I’ll take the video on her phone so you can watch it when she gets home.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk nodded. “I’ll see you there then.” 

Dokja was confused. “What? Don’t you have your tournament?” 

“I’ll see you there,” he repeated. With that, Yoo Joonghyuk swung around and returned inside, leaving Dokja stunned. 

His wrist felt warm from where the other's hand had held it. Biting his lip, he slowly clasped it against his chest, wishing against his better judgment for the warmth to stay just a little longer.  

Chapter Text

That weekend, it was raining. The cloud cover lay low and grey across the sky, pressing down so heavily the air felt stifled. There was a humming electric charge that could be felt in the humidity, lying in wait as if revving up to pounce. 

Luckily, nothing as trivial as weather could suppress the effervescent energy of the two children bouncing next to Dokja on the bus. 

“Hyung, I’ve never gone to a music performance before!” Lee Gilyoung exclaimed happily, swinging his legs. 

“Me neither,” Shin Yoosung agreed. “Ahjussi, have you?” 

Dokja thought for a moment, and a forgotten memory resurfaced in his mind. 

“Once.” 

“Who did you go watch?” Yoosung asked curiously. Her mother had recently cut her hair and so her dark brown bangs were choppier than normal, often falling into her eyes as it was right now.

Dokja fondly pushed her hair back a little before responding, “I was the one performing.” Both kids gasped in surprise. 

“What instrument did you play, hyung?” 

“Violin,” he replied, chuckling. “I wasn’t that good.” 

Yoosung looked up at him in wonder. “Can you play it for us some time?”

Dokja shook his head. “I stopped when I was really young, I don’t remember how to play at all.” 

“Why did you stop?” Gilyoung looked disappointed. 

“My…” he paused. “My dad didn’t allow me to continue. We didn’t have that much money back then and lessons were expensive.” 

“I didn’t know hyung had a dad.” 

“You idiot!” Yoosung lightly slapped Gilyoung’s arm. “Everyone has a dad.” 

“You know what I mean!” he hissed back. “We’ve never seen Dokja hyung’s parents before.” 

“Don’t be rude!” 

“How’s that rude? I’m just saying!” 

“You’re so dense!” 

“Settle down, you two.” Dokja stepped in before they could cause a scene on the bus. “It’s okay, my family is just a little more complicated than most, is all.” 

He flashed a reassuring smile and patted both their heads. Luckily, that seemed to appease them and they returned to chattering about Mia’s recital. 

They pulled into their destination stop shortly after. To Dokja’s relief, it was merely drizzling when the three stepped out. He’d forgotten to check the forecast that morning and hadn’t brought an umbrella for them. Hopefully, it didn’t worsen over the course of the day.

The concert hall was still several minutes walk away, within a large plaza, and so he hurried Gilyoung and Yoosung on. Despite the rain being light, he didn’t want them to be out in the cold dampness for too long. 

The three hustled their way to the venue and dashed into the doors once it was in eyesight. As Dokja shook out his coat, his eyes swept around the bright lobby. It was busier than expected – the crowd of families milling around was sizable. 

“There’s a lot of people here,” Yoosung noted, echoing his thoughts. He nodded, grabbing a concert program off the stack near the door. 

“Look,” he pointed out. “There’s a lot of students performing.” 

“When is Mia going to go on?” Gilyoung peered over Yoosung’s shoulder. Skimming the sheet, they found her name somewhere halfway.  

“I bet she’s going to be the best one,” Yoosung enthused. 

“Yoosungie! Gilyoungie!” 

They all raised their heads at the sound of Mia’s voice coming over the crowd’s din. She was waving her arm across the room, and ran over to them with excitement bright in her eyes. 

“Mia, you look so pretty!” Yoosung cried. Mia giggled and gave a little twirl of her velvet black dress while Gilyoung shyly agreed. 

“Ahjussi, thanks for coming,” Mia looked up at him, bashful for once. 

“I promised, didn’t I?” He grinned before looking around, slightly nervous. “Is your brother here as well?”

“No, he just dropped me off before going to his tournament.” 

Dokja felt a wave of relief that Yoo Joonghyuk had decided not to show up after all. If there was the tiniest twinge of disappointment, he disregarded it. 

Mia pushed her phone into his hands. “Remember to take lots of pictures and videos of me! Oppa will be very angry at you if you don’t,” she warned, slipping back to her usual imperiousness.

He solemnly saluted her. “I won’t miss a single second.”

“Okay, I should go backstage now. My piano teacher will be looking for me,” she turned back to her friends. “See you guys later!” 

They wished Mia good luck before she disappeared into the stage door. The crowd began to push slowly into the theatre and they followed along, eventually finding their seats among the many rows. 

The show started promptly and the acts began to come out. Sometimes the students would be in pairs, quintents, or full-size bands. Only a few were solos, and Mia was going to be one of them. 

Beside him, Yoosung and Gilyoung watched it all with fascination, whispering to each other which of the instruments they would be interested in playing. 

Finally, Mia’s turn came. The two next to him held their breaths quietly, and clutched onto each other as she walked on stage. 

She was nervous, Dokja could see. Her hands grasped at the sides of her dress and her eyes darted around the audience, as if searching for them. It’d be to no avail, Dokja knew, as the stage lights were much too bright. 

Just then, Mia’s phone screen lit up. He was holding it out in front of him, ready to film her performance, and so he saw the message that appeared at the very top. 

Oppa: You’re going to do great.

Dokja found himself smiling with endearment. What a thick-headed idiot. Didn’t he know that Mia wasn’t going to have her phone on her? 

But perhaps the siblings had some sort of telepathic connection, because Yoo Joonghyuk’s words seemed to reach her. On stage, Mia closed her eyes and took a slow breath. When she opened them again, they were calm and steady. They looked like Yoo Joonghyuk’s before a match. 

Mia took a deep bow and sat down at the piano. Dokja pressed record. 

She began to play. 

It started small and soft, before gradually growing large and grandiose, filling the entire hall. It was bright and soaring. It was heavy and riveting. It was staggeringly beautiful. 

Dokja was speechless, his mouth slightly ajar. This was completely beyond his expectation for a girl of her age. He had thought she was going to play a simple tune – not a composition as emotionally complex as this. 

He didn’t know enough about music to define what a prodigy looked like, but Mia appeared close in his eyes. It seemed she shared this similarity with her brother, of being blessed with natural talent. 

He couldn’t help but wonder suddenly what sort of parents could have brought into the world two such astonishingly gifted children. And then, what sort of parents could seemingly throw that away.

There was an undercurrent of heartache in her playing. It was the same feeling he sometimes sensed in Yoo Joonghyuk, in the quiet moments when he thought no one was looking. This was something else the two shared – this hushed grief. Dokja wondered if they took comfort in having this silent understanding now that they had each other in their lives. 

On stage, Mia finished with a flourish. The audience erupted into clapping and she shyly took a final bow before walking off.

Dokja heard a sniffle next to him and looked over. Yoosung had tears in her eyes, while Gilyoung was furiously rubbing his face. 

“I-I had no idea she was so good,” the boy warbled. 

“That was the best thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” Yoosung cried out and Dokja couldn't tell if it was out of joy or sadness. 

“I’m never going to make fun of her for being such a piano nerd ever again,” Gilyoung murmured under his breath. 

Yoosung overheard him and turned, finding the perfect victim to channel her overflowing emotion. 

“I can’t believe you called her that when you’re the biggest bug nerd to ever exist!” she elbowed him. 

He looked affronted. “You’re the one who whines every time she says she has to go practice.” 

“That’s because–!” 

Dokja placed calming hands on both their shoulders. “Why don’t you two direct all this energy into telling Mia later about how much you loved her performance.” 

The two glared at each other but quieted, if only because the next act was coming on. 

The concert continued and only finished after nearly another dozen or so performances. When Dokja and the kids finally filed out of the auditorium, they blinked dazedly at the glaring lights, eyes struggling to adjust. 

Yoosung was the first to spot Mia in the crowd. She ran over and tackled the other girl in a hug, Gilyoung soon joining in as well. 

“You were amazing!” Yoosung cheered. 

“I always thought piano music was boring,” Gilyoung shook his head. “But that was so good.” 

Mia looked embarrassed at their heaping praise. “Really?”

They both nodded furiously. “We want to come watch every one of your performances from now on.” 

Mia’s eyes widened and seemed to shake a little at those words. “Nobody other than oppa has ever wanted to see me play before.”

“Then they’re crazy,” Yoosung declared. Mia tightened her hold on them a little bit more. 

“It was beautiful, Mia,” Dokja told her sincerely. She looked up at him with a happy expression, maybe happier than he’d ever seen her before. 

Her eyes shifted behind him, and they brightened even further

“Oppa!” She disentangled herself from her friends and ran past him. 

Dokja turned around to see Yoo Joonghyuk standing there, tall above the crowd, holding a little bouquet of yellow daisies. He’d arrived after all. 

“You came!” Mia flung her arms around his legs. He handed her the flowers and she pushed them against her nose in delight. “And you got my favourite.” 

“I came to pick you up,” he told her. “I’m sorry I missed it.” 

“It’s okay!” she said, her smile unfaltering. 

She turned to Dokja. “Ahjussi, did you get a video?” 

He dutifully walked up and handed Yoo Joonghyuk the cellphone. “Don’t worry, I captured it all.”

“I’ll watch it later,” Joonghyuk gazed down at Mia. “I don’t need to see it to know that you were great.” 

She beamed at him, her eyes alight with joy. He smiled back, small but so full of love that Dokja was momentarily mesmerized. It was impossible not to be, when Yoo Joonghyuk made that sort of expression. 

At the same time, a tiny, shameful part of him twinged in melancholy at the sight of the siblings. In the darkest recesses of his mind, it was a reminder of things that didn’t exist for him. 

Mia went to show off her daisies to Yoosung and Gilyoung, leaving the two men behind. Dokja pulled himself out of his unhelpful thoughts and did his best to act casual. 

“So did you win?” Dokja asked, glancing up at him. 

Yoo Joonghyuk gave the tiniest smirk, as if that wasn't even a question that had to be asked. The small, cocksure movement sent his heart racing and Dokja wanted to smack himself for being so easily affected. 

“Shouldn’t you be at the award ceremony then?” He checked the time. The event definitely wasn’t over yet. 

“It wasn’t necessary for me to attend.” 

Dokja could imagine the fit Baram must’ve thrown when Yoo Joonghyuk left the tournament early and he bit back a laugh.

“Anyway,” Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze slid to him. “I said I would see you here, didn’t I?” 

The amusement in Dokja’s chest quickly turned to fluster, and he coughed involuntarily. “Ah, right.” 

“Thank you for being here for Mia.” 

Perhaps it was Dokja’s imagination, but Joonghyuk’s eyes looked almost soft as he said this. If it was, it was only because his sister meant so much to him. Obviously, he’d be thankful that he had done this favour for her. 

“Of course!” Dokja replied brightly, tamping down his traitorous heart. “I told you, this was actually a bucket list item of mine. I should be the one thanking you.” 

In a hurry, he turned and pulled Gilyoung and Yoosung towards him. “Anyhow – it’s getting late, we should get going if we want to catch the next bus.” 

“I’ll drive,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, grabbing his arm. When did this guy start getting so handsy?

“No need,” Dokja smiled sweetly. The other man frowned, eyebrows furrowing. 

“There’s a storm outside.” 

Peering past him out the tall glass panes, Dokja was very dismayed to see that he was not lying. Unbeknownst to them, the weather had gotten tenfold worse during the time they’d been inside the auditorium with the rain now pounding down with a vengeance. For the first time, Dokja noticed that Yoo Joonghyuk’s outer coat was drenched. 

Following his eyes, Yoo Joonghyuk explained, “I had to park far. It was crowded.” 

All of them approached the doors. It looked even worse up close.

If he’d been by himself, he might’ve persisted in taking the bus anyway. But he was responsible for getting Yoosung and Gilyoung home safe and sound, and dragging them through a thunderstorm was likely not the best course of action for that. 

“Alright, you drive,” Dokja conceded. He proceeded to slip off his coat.

“What are you doing?” Joonghyuk asked sharply. 

“They aren’t wearing jackets at all,” he pointed to the kids. He handed it over and instructed them to hold it over their heads.

“But what about you, ahjussi?” Yoosung asked, her eyes worried. 

“A little rain can’t hurt me,” he replied light-heartedly. Realistically, it was going to be miserable and freezing, but no matter. 

A moment later, a black coat was thrust into his arms. Dokja looked up and Yoo Joonghyuk was glaring at him, as if daring him to return it. 

“I don’t–”

“Put it on.” The tone allowed zero room for argument. 

He pulled it on sheepishly, tugging the collar over his head. It was all too large for him and he likely looked ridiculous, but the excess fabric wrapping around him would be a good shield against the unforgiving downpour. 

“Let’s go.” 

They dashed out, following Yoo Joonghyuk to his car. It really was parked far, the concert attendees had filled up all the nearby streets. By the time they made it inside, they were all out of breath. Yoo Joonghyuk’s long sleeve shirt was completely sodden. 

Dokja quickly returned his coat. 

“Don’t get sick, Joonghyuk-ah,” he teased, draping it on the man. He made sure to cover his chest and arms, so that he couldn’t see the way his shirt clung to the planes of his well-built body. 

“I don’t get sick,” Joonghyuk muttered but complied nonetheless, to Dokja’s relief. 

It was a slow drive home, the rain-slicked streets filled with traffic. From the backseat, the children earnestly gushed about the concert, their voices drowning out the rhythmic squeaks of the windshield wipers and the endless droplets beating against the windows. Yoo Joonghyuk listened patiently with a tiny lift on his lips as Mia rattled on about her performance while Gilyoung and Yoosung chimed in frequently to crow about how incredible she was, and Dokja, through it all, unable to help but laugh along to their endlessly exuberant energy.

Outside was all cold, dark chaos, but inside the confines of this car was a warm, precious little world that was just theirs. And somehow, even though he knew that world didn't belong to him really, Dokja wished for the drive to be even slower.

But it ended soon enough when they pulled into the apartment complex. Yoo Joonghyuk cut the engine and the noise of the rain suddenly grew deafening, breaking the spell of warmth all at once. He faintly listened as the kids in the back hugged each other and promised to meet up first thing tomorrow morning at school. 

Dokja looked over at Yoo Joonghyuk, only to find him already watching him. He cleared his throat, reluctant to talk.  

“Did you finish the story?” Joonghyuk surprised him by speaking first. 

“I did,” Dokja replied, thinking back to the draft he’d handed in to Uriel yesterday. “It’ll probably come out in a few weeks.”

Yoo Joonghyuk nodded and regarded him with an indiscernible expression. His eyes were searching and contemplative, as if there was something he wanted to say but was wondering at the right words.

After their run to the car, he’d pushed back his usual tousled hair to keep the water from dripping into his eyes as he was driving. With the strands out of the way, his features looked so devastatingly clear and exposed that Dokja suddenly felt as though he could barely stand to look at him for fear of being unable to tear his eyes away again. 

And so he jumped in before the other could say anything else. “You and Mia should get going, you’re still soaked.”

There was no point in delaying this. No point at all. 

“Thank you for the ride,” he said, unbuckling himself. “Goodnight Yoo Joonghyuk.” 

Dokja stepped out into the cold and closed the door behind him before Yoo Joonghyuk could respond. 

Chapter Text

Several days passed as Kim Dokja returned to work as normal. The presidential campaigns were ramping up quickly as election day neared, and so he was in and out of the office with Bihyung frequently, accompanying him to debates and rallies. He picked up a lead about a wizened old tea master down in Gwangju and thought it sounded like an interesting lifestyle piece to pitch to Uriel. It’d be an opportunity to take a trip out of Seoul, which would be nice and perhaps exactly what he needed to clear his mind. 

He was turning over the idea in his head as he walked home, a convenience store bag swinging from his hand, when he ran into Yoosung and Gilyoung at the little park below their complex. Yoosung’s mom was sitting nearby as well, and waved a hand when she saw Dokja. 

“Dokja-yah! Good evening,” she gave a big smile, her eyes crinkling up in the same way that her daughters’ did. Gilyoung and Yoosung came running over to say hello. 

“Yoosung-umma, nice to see you,” he greeted back. The kids wrapped their arms around his legs and he affectionately patted their heads. 

“Is that ramen you’re eating again?” she scolded, shaking her head at the bag he was holding. “You need to have healthier meals.” 

Dokja gave her a sheepish smile. “I’ve just been so busy lately, I haven’t had time to cook.” 

“Why don’t you come over for dinner? It’s been awhile,” she offered. “It’s only right, after all the times you’ve looked after Yoosungie and Gilyoungie recently.”

“Thank you, but it’s okay. I’ve still got a lot of work to do,” he declined, feeling awkward. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy going over, but in the few times he had, he couldn’t help but feel out of place and imposing. The atmosphere of a happy family dinner always felt unbearably foreign to him. 

“I’ll drop off some leftovers for you later then,” she frowned. “Otherwise, you won’t be able to get enough nutrients from all that instant food.”

Dokja thanked her graciously, knowing she wouldn’t take no for an answer. He peered down at the kids again, who were still clinging onto him and bickering about something or another. 

“Maybe you upset her!” Yoosung was saying, sticking an accusatory finger at Gilyoung.

The boy looked offended. “Me? What did I do?” 

“You always go too far with your jokes!” 

“What are we fighting about, you two?” Dokja raised an eyebrow at them. 

“Mia hasn’t been to school at all this week,” Yoosung explained, pouting. “And we don’t know why.” 

He frowned at this information. That was strange. 

“Hyung, could you ask Joonghyuk-hyung if she’s okay?” Gilyoung asked with pleading eyes. 

“Maybe she’s not feeling well,” he rubbed their heads again. “I’m sure she’s okay.” 

“Still, could you ask?” Yoosung tugged his shirt. “We’re worried.”

“I’ll…” he winced. “I’ll try.” The kids looked relieved and Yoosung’s mother gave him a grateful smile for indulging them. 

After bidding them a goodnight, Dokja continued back to his apartment. As he was waiting for his noodles to cook, he pulled out his phone with a sigh. He did have Yoo Joonghyuk’s phone number now, after Mia’s runaway fiasco. However, he had told himself he wasn’t going to contact him again, at least until he was sure the stupid little crush he was harbouring had gone away. 

What if there really had been an emergency though? Dokja grimaced.

Without thinking any further, he quickly typed out a message and sent it. 

Kim Dokja: How is everything? 

He set his phone down and opened up the lid of his bowl of instant jajangmyeon. He took a bite and pulled a face of displeasure. For some reason, it didn’t taste as it usually did. Perhaps he should drag Sooyoung out on the weekend for a proper bowl.

Involuntarily, he glanced at his phone. There was no response yet. He read over his own message again and began to regret sending such a vague question. It made it sound as if he was trying to start up a conversation – he should’ve just gotten to the point and asked if Mia was okay. After all, that was the only reason he’d reached out in the first place. 

He finished his dinner and slowly got ready for bed. By the time he crawled under his covers with his laptop, preparing to do a bit more research for his pitch before turning in for the night, Yoo Joonghyuk still had not answered. In fact, the bastard had left him on read. 

Dokja scowled. Maybe he should send a follow-up text to specify that Gilyoung and Yoosung were worried. But what if he just ignored it again? Perhaps the man simply didn’t want to speak to him. 

In the end, he decided against it. If Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t want to talk to him, then so be it. 

-

But somehow the next day, Dokja found himself standing in front of that very bastard’s door. 

He hadn’t been able to help but wonder all night if something had actually happened. Yoosung and Gilyoung would be beside themselves if that were true, so it was only right that he went to check in on the siblings himself. 

Dokja raised his hand and gave a light knock. A minute passed and there was no response. He knocked again. 

Just as he was about to leave in defeat, he heard the door unlock and it opened, just a crack. To his surprise, it was Mia’s face that came peeking through. 

“Ahjussi?” she looked just as taken aback to see him. “What are you doing here?” 

“I came to check on you,” he explained. “Yoosung and Gilyoung were worried since you haven’t been to school.” 

Seeing her now, Mia looked just fine. Perhaps a little tired, but overall the same as usual. 

“Oh.” She looked a bit embarrassed and gave a small sigh. “I told oppa I could take the bus to school myself, but he wouldn’t let me since I’ve never done it before.” 

“You can tell them I’m okay and don’t worry,” she said, giving a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Dokja frowned, and tried to peer past her into the apartment. “Why hasn’t Yoo Joonghyuk been driving you to school as usual?”

Her eyes got shifty. “Well, oppa is a bit–”

“Mia, who’s at the door?” came a voice from inside. It was Yoo Joonghyuk no doubt, but his voice sounded strangely graveled and weak. 

Mia looked up at Dokja, as if contemplating something. Then with a resolute expression, she opened the door wider and gestured for him to step inside. 

The apartment was dark. Most of the curtains were drawn, and there were more items than usual strewn around. While it still wasn’t near messy by Dokja’s standards, he was surprised as Joonghyuk was usually so stringent with his space.

“Oppa, Dokja-ahjussi is here,” Mia called out. 

Yoo Joonghyuk came out of the kitchen, and Dokja’s mouth gaped. He looked terrible. Well, as terrible as someone like Yoo Joonghyuk could look anyway, which was still beyond any normal person. His skin was horribly pallid and the circles beneath his eyes were dark, bruise-like. He stood in an almost hunched way, as if it pained him to be upright. 

At the very least, the intensity of his scowl was still as formidable as ever. “Kim Dokja, what are you doing here?” 

Dokja rushed over and grabbed his arms. “What happened to you?”

Joonghyuk avoided his eyes. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice croaking.

Dokja shook his head in frustration at the obvious lie. 

“Oppa got really sick after the weekend,” Mia came up to them, crossing her arms. “But he won’t go to the doctor and he wouldn’t even let me call anyone to come help him.”

Her brother glared at her and she glared right back, raising her chin defiantly. For once, Dokja was grateful Yoo Joonghyuk’s pigheadedness had rubbed off on her. 

“I thought you didn’t get sick?” Dokja sighed. 

“I don’t.” 

He rolled his eyes at the other man’s stubborn answer. “Did you at least tell Seolhwa-ssi?” 

Yoo Joonghyuk gave him a strange look. “No, why would I?”

This jerk really was hopeless. His poor girlfriend was probably worried sick that he hadn’t been to work and here he was, too dogged to even admit that he was in a bad state. 

Dokja looked behind him into the kitchen and balked at the sight of what seemed to be a half-prepared meal. 

“Are you–,” he near yelled. “Are you cooking?! When you’re like this?” 

“I told him that I could go buy food for us at the convenience store downstairs, but he wouldn’t let me,” Mia threw her hands up in frustration. “He keeps saying that he can do it.” 

“You look like you’re about to keel over at any moment,” Dokja deadpanned. He pulled the taller man towards the living room but was met with resistance.

Yoo Joonghyuk looked affronted that the two of them were apparently ganging up on him. “I can do it. I feel fine.” 

“Mia, could you get me a thermometer please?” Dokja asked, completely ignoring the other’s words. She nodded and hurried off. 

“Yoo Joonghyuk, sit down.” This time he pulled harder, and Joonghyuk begrudgingly relented, letting himself be dragged down onto the couch. 

Mia returned with the thermometer and Dokja unceremoniously shoved it in his mouth, ignoring any sounds of protest. When it beeped, he pulled it out and almost choked at the temperature reading. 

“I’m putting you in bed,” he declared. 

Yoo Joonghyuk glared at him and crossed his arms. “No.” 

Was the Supreme King being petulant? Dokja narrowed his eyes. 

“Fine, then you can lie down right here on the couch. Mia, could you bring him a blanket and pillow?” 

She happily complied, seemingly glad that someone was finally putting her brother in his place. As she left, Yoo Joonghyuk studied Dokja with unreadable eyes and slumped back against his seat, the fight leaving his face all at once. 

"So meddlesome," he muttered, but there was no bite to his tone, only a sense of deep exhaustion. 

“Yoo Joonghyuk,” Dokja said, firm but more quiet now. “You need to rest. If you keep going like this, it won’t do you or Mia any good.” 

He didn’t respond and the silence stretched between them. After a long minute, Joonghyuk gave a small, barely perceptible nod. Dokja released a breath of relief. 

Mia came back and handed him the bedding. He fluffed the pillow and placed it at the end of the sectional. Thank goodness for Yoo Joonghyuk’s expensive taste, the couch was large and comfortable enough to serve as a bed, even for someone as big as him. 

Dokja lightly pushed him down. This time, he didn’t resist. Perhaps it was better that he was too sick to fight back, because if this were any other time, there was no way Dokja would’ve had the strength to make him do anything. 

Dokja pulled the duvet over him, carefully tucking in the ends to ensure that he was fully covered. Yoo Joonghyuk watched him the entire time, but his eyes were quickly glazing over. It was as if he’d been doing everything he could earlier to act passably healthy, but now that he was laid down, his energy was rapidly sapping away.  

After rifling around his cupboards, Dokja found some fever reduction medication that he forced him to take. 

“Go to sleep now,” Dokja ordered, placing a glass of warm water next to him on the coffee table. To his satisfaction, Yoo Joonghyuk’s lids were already beginning to flutter shut. He couldn’t imagine how drained this idiot must’ve been, trying to do everything as he usually did while in this state. 

“Mia hasn’t had dinner yet,” Joonghyuk mumbled, half asleep. Dokja gently wiped his forehead with a cold cloth he’d brought over to relieve the fever-induced clamminess. 

“You don’t need to worry about that. I’ll make sure she’s fed.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips turned up in a ghost of a smile, so faint Dokja thought he might’ve imagined it. Then mere seconds later, the man was fast asleep. 

As maddening as it was that he'd been attempting to cook while in his terrible condition, it did mean that Dokja was able to quickly whip up a fried rice with the already prepared ingredients. Still, after all the fuss, it was getting late by the time he set the food in front of Mia and she quickly scarfed it down. 

“You’re not as good as oppa, but this isn’t bad,” she commented between mouthfuls. 

“I suppose that’s the closest to a compliment that I’ll get, so I’ll take it.” 

As Dokja slowly chewed on his own bowl, he kept glancing over at Yoo Joonghyuk to ensure that he was still sound asleep. 

“What does your brother like to eat?” he asked.

“Dumplings,” Mia immediately answered. Then after a moment, “but especially murim dumplings in chicken broth.” 

-

After dinner, Mia headed to bed, which he was glad for. While she wasn’t sick like her brother was, Dokja could see the fatigue in her eyes and it squeezed his heart a little. It must’ve been hard the last few days, being the only one around and trying her best to help him out in the ways she could. 

Once alone, Dokja sifted through the fridge and was delighted to find all the ingredients he needed. He’d never made murim dumplings before but he felt confident that he had a good enough foundation after their previous mandu making session – also he had a great and magical tool called the internet. 

He found a highly rated recipe online and dutifully followed along. He even remembered Yoo Joonghyuk’s advice and ensured not to overmix the filling. It seemed to be going well and Dokja was feeling quite pleased with himself, but then the actual folding of the dumplings came along. 

No matter how many times he watched the video tutorial, he just couldn’t emulate the perfect, pillowy shape that the chef was showing off on screen. Dokja struggled for twice the amount of time that the recipe had outlined for prep, and even then, he was left with a dozen misshapen, vaguely rounded mounds. 

He hoped that at the very least, they tasted good. 

Once the deformities had finished cooking, he placed them into the chicken broth that he had heated separately. Feeling fancy, he garnished the bowl with a sprinkle of green onion. 

Dokja admired his handiwork, feeling rather proud. Sure, it wasn’t the prettiest, but it still looked quite delicious. 

Carefully balancing the hot contents of the bowl, he treaded lightly to the living room and placed it down by where Yoo Joonghyuk was still sleeping. Dokja kneeled down and was about to gently shake him awake, but was suddenly arrested by the close-up sight of his slumbering face. 

Yoo Joonghyuk’s expression was rarely so serene when he was awake. The tense, often scowling lines of his face were completely gone, replaced with only unbroken strokes and perfect angles. His dark lashes brushed the tops of his cheeks, and his lips were just slightly ajar, warm breaths blowing out between them in a steady rhythm. Dokja’s eyes lingered on their softness. 

He loathed to interrupt this moment, but it had been hours since Joonghyuk’s last meal and he needed to keep his strength up to recover. After a moment’s hesitation, he put his hand on his shoulder and lightly shook it.

Almost immediately, his eyes opened, however he still looked slightly out of it. 

“What’s wrong?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked, his voice hoarse. Dokja just barely bit back a laugh at his adorably dazed expression. 

“Nothing,” he quickly soothed. “I made you some food, you should try to eat a bit.” 

Dokja pushed the bowl forwards. “Mia told me that you liked this.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk pushed himself up to a sitting position and Dokja rushed forward to ensure the blanket stayed around his shoulders, not wanting him to lose any of the warmth. He leaned towards the bowl and his eyes seemed to widen when he saw what was in front of him. 

Dokja shifted from foot to foot nervously as the other stared at the food, unspeaking. 

“I know they look a bit…” he trailed off, chuckling with embarrassment. “I’ve never folded murim dumplings before.” 

“You made this?” Yoo Joonghyuk murmured, his voice so low that Dokja had to strain his ears. To hear better, he kneeled down again and propped his elbows up on the coffee table, facing him. 

“Obviously,” Dokja grinned. “So even if you think they’re ugly, you have to eat them or else my feelings will be hurt.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk raised his eyes to meet his, and somehow even in the darkened room they were radiant, as if cut from jewels. For a moment, Dokja felt as if his insides were disintegrating and had to look away to learn how to breathe again. 

“Or, I mean, don’t force yourself if you really don’t want to,” he coughed. 

Without another word, Yoo Joonghyuk picked up the bowl and bit into a dumpling, sipping the broth along with it. Unable to help himself, Dokja turned his head back to watch him. 

“How is it?” he asked tentatively after he'd eaten a bit more. It had to be a good sign that he wasn’t spitting it out at least. 

“It’s good."

Dokja’s eyes popped out. “Really? It’s good ?” In Yoo Joonghyuk terms, that was the highest praise that could possibly be bestowed. 

Joonghyuk nodded. 

“Is it as good as yours?” Dokja’s mouth widened into a smile, unable to resist pushing his luck. 

Predictably, that earned him a glare. “No.” 

But still, Dokja beamed with joy. Yoo Joonghyuk quietly finished the rest of the bowl, a little smile on his own mouth. 

Afterwards, Dokja was finally able to persuade him to move to his own bed. He followed him deeper into the apartment, keeping a close eye as Yoo Joonghyuk was shuffling along rather unsteadily, dragging his fingers along the walls for balance. They entered a spacious bedroom, as sparse and plain as the rest of the home. 

Yoo Joonghyuk dropped onto his large bed and let Dokja fuss about, wrapping him into his duvet securely and adjusting the pillows beneath his head. His eyes were quickly drifting shut again, but as Dokja turned to leave, his hand shot out from beneath the blanket. Yoo Joonghyuk’s long fingers twisted into his, the heat from his fevered body seeped through the contact and sent sparks up Dokja’s arm. 

“Stay a bit longer,” murmured Yoo Joonghyuk, gazing up at him hazily through heavy lashes.

Dokja bit his lip. When he asked like that – what choice did he have? 

The other still hadn’t let go of his hand, and so he just sank down to cross his legs on the floor, leaning against the nightstand. Luckily, the bed frame was low so that they were eye level. 

“How are you feeling?” Dokja asked, his voice quiet in the dark room. The only glow was the sliver of light emanating from the crescent moon hanging distantly outside. Still, it was enough to trace the shadows on Yoo Joonghyuk’s face, see the glinting reflections of the dark eyes watching him. 

“Tired,” came the rough, surprisingly honest response, and Dokja couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath. His own thumb unconsciously came up to brush the fingers that were loosely holding his.

“Serves you right, you idiot,” he shook his head. “You know, it’s okay to ask for help sometimes.”

Yoo Joonghyuk was quiet for a long moment, so long that Dokja thought he’d fallen asleep again. He glanced over, to find that incandescent gaze still on him. 

“I suppose this isn’t so bad,” Yoo Joonghyuk whispered, a hint of a smile on his lips again. Heat rushed to Dokja’s face and he was suddenly very glad for the darkness.

“Don’t get used to the dumplings though,” he snorted, to cover the fluttering in his stomach. “You just had to pick such an intensive food as your favourite.” 

“They’re easy to make.” 

“Not everyone is a dumpling making god, remember?” 

Now it was Yoo Joonghyuk’s turn to chuckle. The sound was low and breathy, almost intimate with the setting, with their hands still intertwined. 

“What about you?” he asked. 

Dokja tilted his head. “What about me?” 

“What’s your favourite food?”

“Should I flatter you and say your mandu?” Dokja teased. 

Yoo Joonghyuk gave a tiny shake of his head, his hair falling into his eyes. Dokja’s free hand twitched. 

“No, I want to know what it really is.”  

Dokja hummed, thinking for a moment. “Probably jajangmyeon.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk raised his eyebrows. “Really?” 

“Mhm,” he nodded, tilting his head back against the nightstand. “When I was little, there was a Chinese restaurant around the corner from my house. I didn’t get to have it often but sometimes, my mom and I would go and get jajangmyeon and tangsuyuk for takeout. I lived near Namhansanseong so we’d go to the park and find a little spot away from the tourists to have a picnic.”

Dokja laughed to himself. “Now that I think back, my mom probably did that so that my dad wouldn’t know we went out to eat. If we ever had leftovers, we never took them home.” 

The fingers around his hand tightened.

“And what about dislikes? Is there any food you don’t like?” 

“Tomatoes,” Dokja answered immediately. 

“Tomatoes?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why, I just can’t stand them,” he shrugged. 

“Mm, okay, I’ll… remember that.” Yoo Joonghyuk stifled a yawn. 

“Alright, it’s time for you to rest,” Dokja instructed, trying to put on a stern voice. He made the sickly patient take another dose of the medicine that he’d brought along into the room. 

“Also, I’ll take Mia to school tomorrow morning so that Gilyoung and Yoosung can stop worrying over her,” he told him softly, tucking in the corners of the blanket again, this time making sure that both arms and hands were covered. “It’s not good for her to miss so much school.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk was already halfway drifted off, but he nodded in response and mumbled something.

“What’s that?” Dokja leaned down closer. 

“You really are…” The words came in soft, barely audible breaths, “...so good.”

Dokja froze. He looked down at Yoo Joonghyuk to see if he was trying to be funny, but the man was already sound asleep, his face a tranquil piece of art. 

He jolted upright, tension crackling through him. What did Yoo Joonghyuk mean by that? Surely, it couldn’t have meant what it sounded like. Because…

Dokja’s eyes returned to the sleeping form. Now that the other was no longer awake, his hand reached out of its own accord, daring to do what it hadn’t been minutes earlier. His fingers softly carded through the inky waves, brushing it out of Yoo Joonghyuk’s face. In his sleep, the man seemed to sigh at the touch.

He pulled his hand back in a flash. No, surely he couldn’t have meant that. Because Dokja was a lot of things, selfish, greedy - especially in this moment - and most of all, broken. Those were all very far from good. 

-

Returning to the living room to clean up, he was surprised to find Mia sitting in the recliner. 

“Mia, what are you doing up?” he asked, sitting down as well. She looked up at him with a slightly embarrassed expression. 

“I had a nightmare,” she admitted. 

“Oh,” Dokja said. “Do you have them often?”

“I used to get them a lot,” she explained, fidgeting with her fingers. “Now, I get them a little less.” 

He studied her for a moment and felt a small wave of familiarity. “I used to get nightmares when I was young as well.” 

Mia gave him a dubious look. “Really?” 

Dokja nodded. “A lot.”

“What did you dream about?” 

“I don’t really remember,” he shrugged. She frowned slightly, as if she didn’t quite believe him. 

“I do remember though, that everytime it happened, I would go read something to take my mind off of it,” he continued. “Is there anything like that that you do?” 

She glanced in the direction of Joonghyuk’s room. “Usually oppa takes me to the park.” 

Dokja remembered that late night he’d seen Yoo Joonghyuk pushing Mia on the swings while on his way home, at the time thinking that he was hallucinating. So this was the reason behind it.

“I don’t think we should wake him up, but if you want, I can take you to the park,” Dokja offered. 

Mia shook her head. “It’s okay, ahjussi.”

She looked down at her hands. “He doesn’t say it, but I know oppa works really hard to take care of me. So, I should be strong too. After all, I… don’t want to be a burden to him.”

Before Dokja could refute her, she stood up and silently padded back to her room. He heard the click of her door close. 

He leaned back to rest his head against the couch and his gaze swept to the abandoned bowl still on the table, now empty. A wistful strand of emotion curled around his heart. 

He looked away. 

Chapter Text

Dokja slipped away in the morning after determining that Yoo Joonghyuk’s fever was gone. Unfairly blessed in every way that he was, his body had recovered miraculously quickly – all he had needed this entire time was proper rest which he’d clearly been depriving himself of. 

The man still hadn’t stirred by the time Dokja had to take Mia on the bus to school. And so he’d opted to not disturb him, leaving behind only the medicine and some breakfast by his bedside. It was so his body could properly fight off the last remnants of sickness, Dokja rationalized. It certainly wasn’t because he was still trying to process Yoo Joonghyuk’s sleep-addled words from last night, and didn’t know how to face him.

It was probably best to forget about it anyway. It was just an offhand remark, made because Dokja was being nice, nothing to be analyzed, turned over, and kept in the heart. Especially not since the other man clearly had no idea what he was talking about. 

As he dropped off Mia, he told her that if Yoo Joonghyuk still didn’t feel well enough to drive later, Yoosung’s mother would take her home as he’d already given her a heads up. He watched the young girl disappear into the school gates and then headed to work – it was time to go back to business as usual. 

Later on, when Yoosung and Gilyoung came by to play on his computer, he asked if everything went alright. They told him that Joonghyuk had come to pick her up after all, and he was looking healthy as usual again.

It seemed that there was nothing left to worry about. With that, Dokja gave a little reassuring nod to himself and returned to his notes to prepare for his story pitch.

- 

Over the weekend, Dokja was on the subway on his way to meet Jung Heewon and Lee Hyunsung for dinner when his phone pinged. He glanced down and saw the message preview flash across the top. 

It’ll be spring soon. Would you like to come visit? 

He quickly shut the screen off again and closed his eyes. He breathed out and as always, told himself that he would respond later. An anxious energy pooled at the bottom of his chest. He ignored it – the stop was coming up soon and he didn’t want to miss it. 

Dokja’s weekends have been more activity-filled than normal lately. He wasn’t sure if he liked it – between that and the constant stream of work, he was a few chapters behind some of the web novels he regularly followed. 

He’d been anticipating a quiet weekend this week, retreating back to the safety of his own solitude. However, Heewon broke the news that she had finally finished the preparations to open up her second kendo school location. He knew how much she’d been working towards this and didn’t want to miss the opportunity to take her out for a celebratory dinner.

When he arrived at the Japanese diner he had chosen, the couple was already there waiting for him. 

“Dokja-ssi!” Hyunsung waved his hand when he spotted him. Heewon whirled around at his greeting and a grin grew on her mouth. 

“Yah, Dokja!" she gestured at the restaurant entrance. "I can’t believe you remembered how much I love katsu.” 

He shrugged in response. “Isn’t it my job to remember things about my interviewees?” 

She rolled her eyes and gave him an exasperated push into the entrance, her and Hyunsung closely following behind. “If you keep referring to me that way, I’ll kick you in the head. We’re friends now.” 

Dokja chuckled and had to nod in agreement. 

The three took a seat and Heewon excitedly pored over the menu. She was unable to decide between the cheese katsu or the spicy one. In the end, Hyunsung decided to get one while she got the other, so that she could get a taste of both. 

“Hyunsung-ssi is so thoughtful of you,” Dokja teased her.

“Isn’t that what boyfriends are for?” Heewon waggled her eyebrows at the boyfriend in question. 

Hyunsung chuckled and gave a nonchalant shrug in agreement. “I’m happy with anything anyway.” 

“Unless it’s seafood, then you get so picky.” 

“Only oysters because they’re unpleasant!” 

Dokja watched them with a little smile as they threw jokes at each other, his fingers slightly fidgeting beneath the table. 

After putting their orders in, Heewon turned to Dokja.

“Are you finished with the article about Yoo Joonghyuk now?” 

He nodded. “It probably won’t be out for another few weeks though.”

“I can’t wait to see what you’ve written about that difficult bastard,” she grinned.

“I’m sure Dokja-ssi wrote only kind things,” Hyunsung nudged his girlfriend good-naturedly. 

“Fine,” she waved her hand airily. “I suppose you guys seemed to get along pretty well at Hyunsung’s dinner, which is a real rarity for that one.” 

“The four of us should hang out again,” Heewon continued, quirking up her lips. “My friend told me about this new arcade bar opening up in Seongsu that sounds fun.” 

“Four? Shouldn’t we include Lee Seolhwa as well?” Dokja shot back with a hasty smile, instead of giving a direct answer. 

Heewon gave a little tilt of her head. “Oh yeah, of course. But Seolhwa’s usually busy on the weekends visiting her boyfriend in Busan.” 

Dokja paused. 

“Busan?” he echoed. 

Hyunsung nodded. “He’s a doctor and was placed at a hospital there on contract so they’ve been doing long distance for awhile.” 

Dokja blinked and stared at them blankly. 

Heewon noticed his look of confusion and raised her eyebrows. “What?”

“Isn’t she dating Yoo Joonghyuk?” 

Both their eyes popped out of their heads. Heewon burst into laughter while Hyunsung’s face scrunched up in bewilderment. 

“Why would Dokja-ssi think that?” 

Dokja blinked again, now suddenly second-guessing himself. Why had he thought that exactly?

“They seemed to get along well, I suppose,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. 

“No, the three of us are just good friends from high school.” Hyunsung explained. Seeing that Dokja was looking a bit embarrassed, he quickly continued with, “I can see why Dokja-ssi might have misunderstood though!” 

Heewon just shook her head. “Seolhwa is such a catch in every way. Why would she date a neanderthal like that guy who has a vocabulary of 20 words?” 

Hyunsung looked like he wanted to come to his friend’s defense but had to bite back an amused smile as well. It seemed that both of them felt like the scenario was ridiculous. With their reactions, Dokja couldn’t help but feel silly too. The two had never actually done anything that indicated they were in a relationship, he had just assumed. 

Well, perhaps it was to make Yoo Joonghyuk seem even more unavailable. Not that it had kept his greedy, treacherous heart from developing feelings all the same. The useless thing was always acting out of its own whims, just as it was right now, thumping at the revelation that maybe Yoo Joonghyuk… 

Dokja stamped out the thought. 

Luckily for him, the food arrived at this moment to distract himself as well as Heewon. She was too busy salivating over the freshly fried pork to tease him any further. As they began to eat, Dokja quickly turned the conversation around, eager to change the topic. 

“Tell me about your new school,” he told Heewon. 

Her eyes lit up and launched into the plans for the new location. She’d been saving for years and as business had steadily improved, she’d been pulling long hours the last few months to find the perfect location and plan the layout. Now, everything was finally ready for the contractors to break ground.

“They began the renovations yesterday,” she was saying with fervour. “It should be ready to open its doors in three months.” 

Hyunsung watched her with proud, shining eyes as she explained and Dokja couldn’t help but smile broadly at her excitement as well. 

“This is going to be the start of your kendo empire. In a few years, you’ll have franchises all across the country,” he half-joked. Knowing Jung Heewon, nothing was impossible. 

She laughed. “I like a good challenge but let’s see how this one goes first.” 

“You can do anything,” Hyunsung said, entirely solemn. She slapped his arm, flushing with embarrassment at his open, unrelenting belief in her but also exchanged with him a small, secret smile.

Dokja looked away at that. It felt too intimate for him to watch. 

“I haven’t told you the craziest thing though,” Heewon ripped her eyes away from her boyfriend and turned to Dokja again. He returned to the conversation and gave her a questioning look. 

She bit her lip, her eyes suddenly becoming uncharacteristically shaky. 

“I,” she took a breath. “I told my family the news as well.” 

Dokja's mouth opened slightly in surprise. “How did they react?” he asked tentatively. 

He remembered the first time he’d met Jung Heewon, in the small, windowless office of her kendo school, tucked away in the narrow streets of Ssangmun-dong. A force of nature – that was how he’d described her in his mind and later in the story he wrote after their interviews. An unstoppable ball of energy that drove forwards in the world with no hesitation in her vision for what she wanted in her life. Beautiful like a sturdy oak, never faltering or giving into emotional riptides. And when he’d asked her about her family background, she gave a steely smirk and a cold shrug. The only incongruity was a mute flash of sorrow behind her chestnut eyes, so fast Dokja would’ve missed it if not for the fact that it was a grief he knew so well. 

If not for the fact that he was just as well acquainted with masks as she was. 

But right now, Heewon wore a foreign expression. She met his gaze, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She quickly blinked them back before they could threaten to fall, but there was no hiding the raw emotion on her face. Perhaps she wasn’t trying to hide them anymore. 

She gave a quiet little laugh, full of disbelief. “They were happy for me.” She looked down at her hands, as if seeing them for the first time.

“They were happy for me,” she repeated. “And they want to come for the grand opening.” 

Hyunsung reached over on the table and took one of her hands in his own. Dokja didn’t know what to say at first, he knew how much this meant to her. 

“I’m so happy to hear that,” he finally said, his voice quiet but sincere. He meant it. He was happy for her. 

Heewon shook her head, looking back up. “I really couldn’t believe it, after all these years… it seems like they’ve finally come around.” 

“Family usually does in the end,” Hyunsung murmured, beaming happily for his girlfriend.

These words rang through Dokja, rattling inside him as if he were a hollow tin. His smile froze on his face and he could only nod mutely in agreement as the two continued to converse about Heewon’s plans for the opening. Something small and old and ugly reared inside him. He instantly killed it without a thought, like it was second nature to him, because it was. But as if that something had suddenly evolved the properties of a hydra, it quickly leapt up again. 

He was happy for Heewon, really he was. He knew that beneath her seemingly inextinguishable fire was someone who missed her family dearly but had given up hope of coming to an understanding with them about her chosen path in life. But now, she’d been given a chance to heal from this years old wound. How could he not be happy for his friend? 

“Dokja?” 

Heewon was looking at him with a puzzled expression. 

“Sorry, what was that?” 

“Hyunsung was just saying that his parents are going to come into the city to attend the opening party as well since they just live in Anyang, and asked if yours live around Seoul too?”

“Oh.” Dokja opened his mouth to respond but his voice caught at the back of his throat. 

He coughed and tried again. “No, my mom lives farther away.”

Heewon gave a pensive hum. “Ah, no wonder I’ve never heard you mention her before.” 

“We’re just not very close is all.” 

The two of them nodded as if they understood and quickly moved on to another topic. 

But they didn’t understand. And he wasn’t following the conversation anymore. 

An incessant, throbbing drone was blaring in his ears, and he couldn’t hear anything else. Suddenly, he was very far away. As if he was watching himself have dinner with his two friends as an observer, the body he was meant to be occupying nothing but an empty, numb shell. 

So it was this again. 

He watched as the Dokja sitting there at the table continued to eat and laugh along. As he subtly looked away every time Heewon chattered about the family members that would be visiting her soon and every time the two lovers in front of him exchanged looks full of unbridled happiness. 

It had been a while since he felt detached like this but he knew exactly what it was. It was his own personal wall. His own personal jail cell constructed within his mind to remind him that he could never reach what was on the other side. 

It was his own prison but it was also the most comforting thing he had. He knew this wall like the back of his hand, because it was the only thing that he had ever known. 

There were times when he’d attempted to reach past the wall. Times he thought that he too could have a piece of what he saw others had. Times where he thought if he could pretend to have the capacity to love and be loved long enough, it would come true. 

But each time, the wall had pulled him back possessively as if it had a mind of its own. He didn’t belong there on the other side, it said. It was the only thing that truly knew him, it said. It was the only thing that would ever fully accept him, it said. 

Because, nobody else on the other side had seen him through it all the way it had. 

And it was right. 

The coward that had hid behind this wall all his life had no right to see what was on the other side. 

Dokja forced himself to return to his body, the buzzing noise banished. This wasn’t something he struggled with anymore – the hours he’d spent within a doctor’s office while his peers were out playing after school sports had reaped some benefits after all. 

He was able to easily return himself to the conversation, chiming in with a snarky joke as Heewon rehashed the woes she was going through interviewing new instructors for the school.  

However, no matter how cleverly he hid it, he knew it was there. It was omnipresent – protecting him, hiding him, isolating him.

-

Later that night, he packed for Gwangju. Uriel had accepted his story pitch and felt it fit perfectly with the recent trend of renewed interest in old, obscure cultural traditions. He was looking forward to it – it had been a while since he last took a trip out of Seoul. It was a chance for him to clear his head and rid himself of the irksome, crushing thoughts and feelings. 

As he was deciding between his black slacks or his brown ones, a ping came to his phone. 

He quickly grabbed it, hoping it was Sooyoung with a draft of her next chapter. She'd been quieter than normal recently and he assumed it was because she was in one of those furious writing trances she sometimes fell into. 

But it wasn’t Han Sooyoung. 

Yoo Joonghyuk: Thank you for the other day. 

Dokja stared at the message. His (stupid, stupid) heart clenched tightly and he found himself reading the words over and over. 

He allowed his eyes to trace the letters on his screen and for his lips to mouth the name for a full minute before resolutely putting down his phone. 

Yoo Joonghyuk was just another unattainable person on the other side of the wall. And there was still packing to be done. 

Chapter Text

Han Sooyoung: We’re going to karaoke this weekend.

Kim Dokja: We are?

Han Sooyoung: Yup, I’m itching to get wasted now that production’s finally wrapped up.

Kim Dokja: Fine

Han Sooyoung: We haven’t hung out in weeks, aren’t you excited?

Dokja read her message as he boarded the Gwangju to Seoul train. He gave a little scoff and sent back an eye roll emoji.

He found his seat and settled in for the long ride. Looking out the window to the rolling hills that bordered the Southern city, he was happy to be heading back home. The work trip to Gwangju had been enjoyable but it'd ended up being longer than he'd expected as in tandem with interviewing the tea master, Bihyung had requested he follow the election campaign trail around the city. The presidential candidates had happened to be near Gwangju around the same time and so it saved the senior staff writer a trip with Dokja already there.

After several weeks of living in a hotel room, he was missing his little apartment. And as usual, Uriel already had several leads lined up for him, so it was urgent that he returned to Seoul as well.

Dokja closed his eyes. There would be a mountain of work waiting for him in the office when he went in tomorrow, but for now he was going to nap the whole ride home.

-

“Sometimes I forget you even work here with how much you’re away.”

Dokja turned around with his freshly brewed mug of coffee. Bihyung was standing at the entrance of the break room, hands stuffed in his pockets and wearing a sardonic grin.

“You act as if you aren’t the reason I was out for so long,” Dokja complained, taking a sip of his drink. Bihyung chuckled and came over to make himself a cup as well.

“Us junior writers aren’t so lucky to be sitting around in the office all day,” Dokja continued in a whine. 

The gruff man snorted. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I smell a promotion coming soon.”

Dokja whirled around, nearly spilling his coffee in the process.

“Don’t tease me like that,” he warned, but his face was hopeful. 

“Not this time,” Bihyung crossed his arms, a pleased glint in his eye.

Dokja gasped. “How do you know?”

“Uriel likes you a lot, you know that,” Bihyung shrugged. “And the Nebula article that dropped yesterday has been getting a lot of attention.”

Dokja was taken aback. He hadn’t realized the new issue had been released already, but then quickly counting the days in his head, it dawned on him that the publication date had just passed. He’d been so absorbed in work recently, the days had flown by unknowingly.

Bihyung regarded him impatiently and shook his head. “You little– you forgot again, didn’t you?”

Dokja gave a sheepish smile. “I can’t be blamed for the fact that my managers have me working so hard that I can’t even keep track of the days.”

The other scoffed. “I’m surprised you haven’t seen all the comments on social media anyway. People like it a lot for the most part,” Bihyung raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t have social media,” Dokja shrugged. And he certainly never looked at the comments on his articles.

Bihyung nodded. “Well, Uriel has also been fielding some not so happy calls from Nebula. But I suppose the two of you were expecting that, with the direction you took with the story.”

He winced slightly, but just gave a little shake of his head. “I don’t think I was particularly negative. I was just trying to be truthful.”

The senior writer gave his shoulder a slap. “You did good anyway. Going back to the talk of promotion, I think this will be the final push.”

A smile spread over Dokja’s lips. He didn’t want to get his own hopes up, but Bihyung wouldn’t be so sincere about it if he wasn’t mostly certain it would happen.

If it were true, then all the hectic workload would’ve been worth it. After all, senior staff were given much more control over the leads they took and the schedules they worked. Meaning he may finally, finally be able to book that vacation day he’d been holding out for.

With a bounce in his step, Dokja returned to his seat. Just then, his phone vibrated.

Jung Heewon: Did you see your story’s trending on Naver? You really outdid yourself with this one.

It was as if Bihyung telling him about the article’s success broke some invisible dam, as soon his phone buzzed with several more messages from industry friends. Including one from Yoo Sangah.

Yoo Sangah: Congratulations on the story Dokja-ssi! It was an enthralling read and I really felt like I learned a lot from it. I never knew the world of esports was so fascinating and complex behind the scenes. 

Dokja quickly responded with a thanks to each one. Now he was really curious what the internet was saying if the story truly was garnering this much attention.

It was an unspoken rule he kept – not to read anything about himself or his work online, but perhaps this time he could make an exception.

Opening up the Naver homepage, he was still surprised to see his article on the trending tab despite Heewon already telling him. It was strange and kind of unbelievable, seeing his own title and byline there.

Behind the Screen: Esports Frenzy, Fame, and Facades. By Kim Dokja.

He clicked into it and scrolled down to the comments section. 

monkey_kingg: supreme king fighting! writer-nim you did great with this story [+1454]

secretiveplotter1863: What a fantastic article. It’s such an interesting look into the behind the scenes of what it really takes to be a top streamer in such a competitive industry nowadays – not everyone can handle the pressures that come with being so famous. [+492]

demonlikejudgeoffire: wahhh joonghyuk oppa is so cool… he works so hard to be at the top!! we have to support him more to make sure he stays happy <3 [+2459]

blackflamexXdragon: I’ve always looked up to joonghyuk hyung and wanted to become a trainee under Nebula so that i could become just like him..  But his life is really more complicated than i thought [+231]

Dokja wasn’t surprised to see that most of the top comments were about Yoo Joonghyuk. The man had legions of loyal fans who gulped up any detail they could find about him online. This article was probably a feast for them – no wonder it was trending. 

His phone vibrated with another message from Heewon.

Jung Heewon: Karaoke this weekend to celebrate??

Kim Dokja: Sooyoung and I are going, why don’t you guys join us?

Jung Heewon: Sounds like a plan.

Hopefully Han Sooyoung wouldn’t mind some extras coming. She was planning on getting drunk out of her mind anyway, so it likely didn’t matter.

Throughout the rest of the day, his other coworkers dropped by his desk to congratulate him on the successful publication, including Uriel.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had a feature with this much buzz,” she told him, eyes sparkling. “I knew I could count on you to really make this story shine.”

Dokja felt a bit flustered by her praise.

“It’s only because Yoo Joonghyuk is so popular,” he said, rubbing the back of his head.

At the mention of the gamer, her smile grew brighter. “That’s true, but I think the two of you together made this story possible. It wouldn’t have been as riveting any other way.”

Dokja wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that but the shower of compliments was making him feel increasingly confident about Bihyung’s earlier prediction. 

Mentally crossing his fingers, he thanked her graciously and she left with a swish of her dress and a wink.

If Yoo Joonghyuk’s fanbase turned out to be the catalyst for his promotion, he would gladly accept it. Not that he would ever tell that to the bastard – he didn’t need to give that sort of leverage to him.

There had been radio silence between the two since Yoo Joonghyuk’s thank you text. The thought of it sent a pang of emotion through him that Dokja didn’t want to name. But this was what he wanted, no – needed. Dokja wasn’t such an idiot that he thought he could avoid the man forever, especially with Mia coming around to visit Yoosung and Gilyoung as frequently as she did. All he needed was that by the next time he saw him, the infuriating illusions he’d been entertaining had dissolved themselves.

-

Unfortunately for Dokja, his grace period away from the pro gamer was much shorter than he’d hoped.

“I hope you don’t mind that I asked him to tag along.” Heewon swung her arm around Dokja’s neck and gestured to the tall, imposing figure trailing after Lee Hyunsung into the karaoke room.

Behind Dokja, a very drunk Sooyoung was wailing her own rendition of Lie by Big Bang.

“I mean, the celebration wouldn’t be complete without the protagonist of the story himself, right?” Hyunsung chimed in, elbowing his friend teasingly. 

The protagonist in question stood near the entrance, hands in his jacket pockets. His eyes locked onto Kim Dokja, darker and infinitely more burning than he recalled. 

It had been mere weeks since he last saw him. He had obviously thought about him, in fact too much probably, but he’d forgotten the power Yoo Joonghyuk held when you were standing in the same room as him. The familiar sensation of the very air being sucked away from his lungs smothered him.

Shit , God really had been unfair when he created the man. 

“No,” Dokja managed out. “Of course I don’t mind.”

He took a moment to feign a mask of normalcy and sauntered up to Yoo Joonghyuk, giving him a light, hopefully casual, punch on the shoulder.

“Good to see you, best friend.” He threw a mocking grin. 

Yoo Joonghyuk’s jaw tightened at the greeting and didn’t respond. Dokja was glad to see that his unfriendly feelings toward him hadn’t changed one bit.

“Someone’s enjoying herself,” Heewon commented, turning her attention to Han Sooyoung.

Sooyoung finished her song and waved a soju bottle at the newcomers. “If you’re gonna crash our party, at least have the decency to buy us a round,” she slurred.

Heewon grinned. “You’re on.”

Heewon and Hyunsung each ordered two more rounds, and soon the whole group was falling over each other. Dokja was a bit tipsy but he ensured to count his shots, knowing that he’d likely be responsible for dragging a half-dead novelist home later.

After finishing a hollered, off-key version of Feel Special , Dokja fell back on the couches. In front of him, Sooyoung joined hands with Heewon and Hyunsung to start an especially soulful performance of Justin Bieber. 

He chuckled watching them, feeling warm inside.

A cup of water dropped on the table in front of him.

“Drink this,” Yoo Joonghyuk ordered, sitting down beside him.

Dokja looked over at him in surprise. Joonghyuk had drank just as much as the rest of them but he still looked mostly lucid.

Obediently, Dokja took a sip. His mouth was feeling dry, he realized. Yoo Joonghyuk watched him carefully.

“Joonghyuk-ah,” his words tumbled out more loose than normal, “aren’t you drunk?”

“Not really,” Yoo Joonghyuk replied. “I need to make sure those two get home later.”

“I guess we’re in the same boat,” Dokja laughed. “And isn’t it supposed to be a party for us?”

“For you,” Yoo Joonghyuk corrected.

Dokja shook his head. “Like Hyunsung said, you’re the protagonist.”

“But you wrote it.”

“You just have a lot of people eager to know your story,” Dokja shrugged.

“Nobody would’ve known it without you,” Yoo Joonghyuk continued to insist. “This is your success.”

In the face of his persistent arguments, Dokja wasn’t sure what to say next. A blush crept across his face.

After a moment, Dokja spoke again. “So, I take it that you liked it?”

“I did. It was honest.”

Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice was low and sincere. And…

And Dokja looked away, watching the three singing their hearts out in front of them.

He laughed again after a moment, slipping back into a safe, joking tone. “I can’t believe after the blood, sweat, and tears I put into writing your story, you still don’t want to admit that we’re friends,” he teased. Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t respond. 

Dokja took another sip of the water before setting it down onto the table. Then all of a sudden, a rough hand grabbed his wrist, catching him completely by surprise.

“Wha–?”

Yoo Joonghyuk yanked him out of his seat, his hold firm but not painful. He dragged Dokja out the door.

“What are you doing?” he asked, bewildered.

Drunken calls of confusion from their friends sounded behind them, but were quickly muffled as the door shut.

The hallway was crowded with other karaoke goers and Yoo Joonghyuk continued to pull him forwards, through the throng of people and out the exit.

“Where are we going?” Dokja tried again, but Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips seemed determined to stay sealed.

The cool night air struck him all at once, knocking the breath out of him. Yoo Joonghyuk led the two off into the quieter side alley next to the building and finally came to a stop.

Another chilled breeze hit Dokja, clearing his alcohol induced haze. He rubbed his shoulders and looked around.

“What did you bring us here for? Are you finally planning on killing me?” He cracked a smile, despite his confusion. If Yoo Joonghyuk was going to murder him, this wasn’t exactly the best spot. The crowded street of weekend revellers was still very much within ear and eyeshot.

“I don’t want to be friends,” Yoo Joonghyuk finally spoke up, his voice dead serious.

Dokja rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. You’ve only told me a million times. You didn’t need to pull me all the way out here just to tell me again.”

“Kim Dokja, you’re a fool.”

Resorting to insults again were we? Dokja scoffed and opened his mouth to retort back. However, just as he was about to speak, Yoo Joonghyuk stepped closer.

Too close. Dokja instinctively stepped back, but he hit brick wall.

“You’ve been running away from me,” Yoo Joonghyuk asserted, his tone was hard but also… Dokja bit his lip as he recognized the undertone of hurt. 

No. Why would he be hurt? 

He laughed, nervous and high. “What do you mean? I’ve been away for work, is all.” 

The taller man ground his teeth, as if running out of patience for his willful ignorance. 

“Each time I try to talk to you, you leave. You take care of me, then disappear without a trace. I come to your apartment, and you’re just gone. ” 

Why did he come to his apartment? 

“I told you, I was wo–” 

Yoo Joonghyuk shook his head, almost angrily, cutting off his weak arguments. 

He could just duck away to the side if he really wanted to get away. The thought flitted through Dokja’s mind.

The other man let out a sigh. He was close enough that Dokja could just barely feel the puff of warmth brush the tip of his nose. 

“Kim Dokja, I don’t want to be friends,” Yoo Joonghyuk repeated, softer this time.

Dokja noticed then that his hand was still holding his wrist. But his grip had loosened, as if letting him pull away if he wanted. Again, Dokja stayed still. 

His heart was pounding. He couldn’t look him in the eyes. He couldn’t move a single muscle. How could he, when he’d been lying awake every night thinking about the warmth the other man’s fingers left every time they touched? 

He was so, so greedy. 

“What do you mean?” Dokja finally found his voice again.

“I think you know what I mean.”

Dokja nearly choked. “No, I- I don’t. I can’t. You can’t.”

“Why can’t I?” 

“Because,” he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Because?" Joonghyuk challenged.

Dokja took a shaky breath. His voice came out barely above a whisper. “Because I’m not good. Not like the way you think I am.” 

His wall. His wall. Where was it when he needed it? Why was it that when it came to Yoo Joonghyuk, every fibre of his being constantly disobeyed him – even his own damn barricades that kept him safe, kept him distant and alone, the ones that loved to slam up of their own accord, wouldn’t even do the one thing he needed them for? It was maddening. Intoxicating. 

One of Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands came up to gently cup his cheek. It was scorching.

“Look at me,” he murmured. Dokja shook his head.

“Please?” 

His voice was so tender and pleading, Dokja heard something inside of him break. Maybe it was the sound of a wall cracking. 

Dokja slowly opened his eyes, tilting up to come face to face with the gaze he was so afraid of. So craved. 

Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes enraptured his. They were beautiful, too beautiful as always, framed by his long lashes. They were endless pools of unknowable depth, dark and deep yet shining all at the same time, reflecting the very moon hanging in the sky. There was emotion rippling through them that Dokja couldn’t name. 

“Kim Dokja, you’re more than good,” Yoo Joonghyuk breathed, the hand holding his face now caressing in slow movements as if he were something precious. “You’re incredible.” 

And with the way he spoke his name like a prayer, the way he gazed upon him like he was a constellation to be worshipped, Dokja almost wanted to believe him. Almost did believe him. 

And maybe… in this moment, it would be okay to believe him. Just for now. 

“Show me,” he whispered back. 

Those starlit eyes fell to Dokja’s lips and a fire swept through the surface like a fiery supernova. It was a ferocity that he knew well. The one that snatched the very air from his chest. 

Dokja watched with fascination. He watched as those captivating eyes grew closer and closer, until he could feel Yoo Joonghyuk’s breath on his mouth. It smelt of bitter soju and sweet strawberries.

“Okay?” Yoo Joonghyuk murmured.

“Okay.” He shut his eyes.

The distance between them closed as Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips covered his. His other arm came up to encircle Dokja’s waist, pulling their bodies tight. 

The world became bright hot light. Fire consumed his chest, searing down his veins until his very essence felt aflame. Stars danced behind his closed eyes, so jubilantly he was dizzy, feet unsteady. His knees swam, barely feeling capable of holding himself up. He might’ve fallen even, if not for Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands holding him – burning, wanting, anchoring. 

This was an inferno he could lose himself in. A blazing storm he could find his soul in. 

And maybe that was okay. 

Chapter Text

Dokja awoke the next day to warm sunbeams washing over him. He stretched slowly, basking in it like a self-indulgent cat preening after a midday nap. Somehow, his sheets felt so much more supple and luxurious than normal. The duvet was also impossibly soft, and he dug his face further into the fluff. It smelt of fresh laundry and woodsy musk, just like…

Yoo Joonghyuk. 

Dokja flipped around to his side and found the man in question already awake, watching him with dark, gentle eyes. In the golden morning light, he looked nearly a celestial divinity. At the sight, an almost juvenile shyness fluttered through Dokja despite the already intimate scene, bodies still mostly bare from the night before. 

“Funny that I’ve woken up in bed with you twice now,” Dokja teased to hide his fluster. “Although, I suppose the other time was a bit different.”

“Shut up, Kim Dokja,” Joonghyuk replied, pulling him in at the waist to wrap him in a melting embrace. His voice was gruff but softened with tender affection. Dokja wasn’t yet used to this tone, even though Yoo Joonghyuk had already called his name just like that, many times, in the dark hours before sunrise. He flushed. 

“Good morning,” Dokja whispered into his skin. It felt heated in the most intoxicating way. 

“Good morning,” Joonghyuk murmured back. Nestled against his chest, Dokja felt it rumble with his words. He could hear the other’s heart beating, strong and steady. In that instant, he couldn't recall the last time he'd felt so safe.   

“I quite like your morning voice,” Dokja commented, biting his lip. 

“Is that so?” 

The rough timbre sent a little shiver down his back. The bastard had deepened it even more on purpose just then, he was sure. 

“Mhm,” he replied, fighting back a stupid, giddy smile. 

After a moment, Dokja stretched again. “We should get up soon, before Mia wakes up.” 

Joonghyuk hummed in agreement but didn’t make any move to rise, and so he didn’t either. Truth be told, Dokja’s mind still felt hazy. It was as if he was still feeling the effects of last night’s drinks, even though he knew that wasn’t it. He could barely register this was all real, everything holding a dream-like quality to it. 

And perhaps it was a dream. But for once, Dokja couldn’t find a reason why he shouldn’t relish in this moment even if it was. Savour the delicious warmth that seemed to be emanating from his very core. 

Revel in Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips that were once again searching their way across his face to find his. Dream-like. 

As their mouths languidly moved against each other’s, Joonghyuk’s hands began to wander and Dokja laughed in delight, pushing him off. 

“Really, she’s going to wake up soon,” he teased, lightly dragging a finger down the other’s chest. “Also, shouldn’t you take me out on a date first?” 

Yoo Joonghyuk pulled back to raise an eyebrow at him, as if to say isn’t it too late for that? 

“You have a sense of humour now, do you?” Dokja smirked, searching around the bed for his clothes. He found his shirt and quickly pulled it over his head. 

Suddenly, there was a faraway sound of a tap opening, water rushing. The two froze and shared a panicked look. 

It had come from Mia’s bathroom down the hall, which meant she was awake. 

“I told you,” Dokja hissed. 

The two of them hurriedly dressed. Taking the opportunity while she was still in the bathroom, Dokja scampered through the apartment to the door. 

“You don’t have to leave,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, following him. 

Dokja snorted. “I’d really rather not have that conversation with your ten year old sister right now.” 

He pulled on his shoes and pushed the door open, preparing to leave. Joonghyuk put a hand on his arm to stop him. He looked back, questioning. 

“What is it?” 

Yoo Joonghyuk wore a steady expression. “I am going to take you on a date.” 

His tone was firm and unwavering, not a trace of humour in it. A hot blush spread on Dokja’s face, heart stuttering at the other’s sudden conviction. 

This hadn’t felt like a one night stand, he knew. But to hear the man declare his intentions so frankly, twisted his stomach in equal parts wondrous elation and jittery anxiety. He didn’t know if – when – this dream would end. 

But he was allowed this small piece of happiness right now, wasn’t he? He was allowed to hope even. This infuriating man had really thrown his entire being into disarray but after last night, he couldn’t even find it in himself to fight against it anymore. Didn't want to. Not when this was the first time in a long, long time that he felt so… 

So good. So warm. So alive. 

Dokja’s lips turned up into a little smile, genuine. “Okay.” 

With that, Yoo Joonghyuk let him go and he escaped into the early morning light. 

-

“ What? ” Sooyoung screeched so loudly, Dokja jerked the phone away from his ear. “You did WHAT?! ” 

“You heard me,” he said.

“Don’t you dare fucking move, I’m coming over right this second.”

“I don’t think you should drive, aren’t you still a bit–” Dokja’s words were cut off as the line went dead. 

He was still sitting there on his couch 15 minutes later when he heard the unmistakable sound of Sooyoung’s obnoxiously loud car pull into the lot below his building. When pounding footsteps came gradually louder from the hallway, he got up to pull the door open. She appeared right on cue, panting with her arms propped against her knees. 

“Did you run all the way up here?” Dokja asked, incredulous. 

“Your elevator’s always too damn slow,” Sooyoung snapped. She pushed him out of the way and collapsed onto his couch. 

“Tell me what happened,” she demanded. 

So he sat down next to her and recounted the events of the previous night. As he went on, her eyeballs bulged out further and further and her jaw gaped more and more. And when Dokja finished, she was silent. For the first time in his life, he had rendered Han Sooyoung speechless. 

“That’s it,” he ended lamely. 

Slowly, very slowly, a mad grin formed on her lips.

“Well I’ll be damned. I didn’t know that monosyllabic bastard had it in him,” she cackled. “I didn’t know you had it in you, after all these years.” 

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not some blushing, inexperienced– ” 

Sooyoung threw him a look. “It’s been like four years.”

“There was that guy from that bar one time–” 

“Okay, three years.” 

Dokja leaned back against the couch and crossed his arms. 

“Look,” she raised her hands up in defense. “This is good. I’m happy for you – you were in desperate need of a lay.” 

He glared at Sooyoung. She really wasn’t making him sound any better. 

“And anyway,” she continued. “Thank god that oaf found it in him to say something. You were driving me insane with your self-loathing, mopey ass.”

“I was not moping!” 

This time, she was the one to roll her eyes. “Please. I know exactly what was running through that pea-sized brain of yours.” 

“Enlighten me.”

Han Sooyoung sucked in a deep breath, dramatically preparing for her tirade. “You decided for yourself that he wasn’t interested in you, despite the fact that anyone with working eyeballs could see that he was disgustingly smitten.”

He opened his mouth to protest but she barrelled forward. 

“You decided for yourself that it wasn’t going to work out, while actively avoiding giving it any chance at all,” she blasted, emphatically gesturing at him. “I can’t believe I have to give credit to Yoo Joonghyuk of all people for making the move because you certainly weren’t going to.” 

“We still don’t know if anything is going to work out,” he grumbled, miffed at his best friend’s biting words, even if they were painfully true. 

She grabbed him by the shoulders all of a sudden, startling him. “And so what if it doesn’t?”

“I–”

“So you think because you failed at a relationship once, you don’t deserve to try again?” 

He bit his lip at this. Sooyoung’s expression was rarely this serious.

“You know it’s not just that,” he finally said. “You know things didn’t work out with Yoo Sangah because there were things I just didn't know how tell her. Couldn't tell her.” 

She sighed. “Everyone has stuff. I’m sure Yoo Joonghyuk does too. That doesn’t mean you have to suffer alone for the rest of your life for it.” 

Dokja was silent. Sooyoung let go of him and sat back again. 

“You should’ve seen the lovesick smile on your face just now when you were telling me about last night,” she shook her head, pulling an exaggerated expression. “It almost made me throw up. Again, considering I puked like twice after dragging myself home alone yesterday. Thanks for nothing, by the way.” 

This made him laugh, his body unconsciously relaxing. As usual, Sooyoung always knew the right thing to say, even if it was in her roundabout, vulgar way. 

“I’m really in it deep this time, yeah?” he asked quietly. 

“Yeah,” she affirmed. “And for once, just let yourself be. Forget the other bullshit.” 

He let out a breath, and slowly nodded. Maybe she was right. He could at least try. 

After all, what he felt for Yoo Joonghyuk was irrefutable. Irrevocable, even. He knew that now – there was no point in denying it anymore. And by some miracle, it seemed like maybe Yoo Joonghyuk felt the same way about him. 

Dream or not, Dokja, for the first time in what felt like forever, sensed as if maybe there was a path forward for him after all. 

Seeing that she’d successfully reassured him, Sooyoung slipped her phone out from her pocket. 

“Lunch? You must be hungry after your night of activity,” she waggled her eyebrows. 

“Don’t say it like that,” he groaned. 

She snickered and punched him in the arm. “You’re buying though. It’s the least you can do after ditching me to get some d–”

“Okay!” he nearly shouted to cut her off. “Yeah, whatever, I’ll pay.” 

Sooyoung just continued to cackle to herself and swiped her phone open to browse the food delivery app. 

Just then, her phone buzzed, a news notification popping up. She skimmed the headline, eyes widening with every word. 

Next to her, Dokja noticed something amiss. 

“What is it?” 

“Um,” she stammered. 

Han Sooyoung never stammered. Dokja leaned over to look at what she was reading. She lurched sharply away. 

“What?” he demanded, now suspicious. She held her phone against her chest, clearly hiding something. 

“Okay,” she slowly said. “Remember what we just talked about not minding all the bullshit?” 

Dokja frowned. “Yes obviously, considering it was a minute ago.” 

“Okay,” Sooyoung repeated. “Just remember that, and don’t freak out. It’s really not a big deal.” 

“What in the world are you talking about?” he pushed, more insistently this time. 

She reluctantly turned the screen around to the page she’d been reading. It was a tabloid website. The headline covered the top half of the page in egregiously large print. 

Supreme King Yoo Joonghyuk spotted getting cozy with a mystery man

Heart dropping to his feet, he grabbed the phone out of her hands. 

Notoriously private streaming star, Yoo Joonghyuk, was seen Saturday night in the Gangnam district getting in a car with an unidentified man of around the same age. The pair were holding hands, looking very close and personal. This comes as a major shock to the legions of fans who follow the gaming heartthrob as he has never been confirmed to be in a romantic relationship before. Previously, there have been dating rumours surrounding the esports player with actresses Jeong Yuna and Min Jiwon, but in both instances were denied. Fans are now calling into question Yoo Joonghyuk’s sexuality and how this will impact his image moving forwards. 

Attached to the article was a blurry image, clearly hastily shot by some bystander’s cellphone. But it was undeniably the two of them, taken in the short moments they had been out on the street hailing down a taxi. While they weren’t doing anything damning, the intimate way they were leaning into each other, hands clasped, made it very difficult for the dynamic to be interpreted in any other way but romantic. 

Neither of their faces were very visible, but even with the low quality, it wasn’t hard to recognize Yoo Joonghyuk’s distinct profile. Dokja, on the other hand, was mostly blocked by Joonghyuk’s frame. 

“It’s fine, they don’t know who you are,” Sooyoung muttered, almost as if to herself. She ran a hand through her hair. 

Dokja ignored her and quickly scrolled down to the comments despite every cell in his body screaming at him not to. He could hear his heartbeat hammering in his ears, deafening. 

stargirl_34: i want to puke [+89]

jxa4: So he’s gay???? this is unbelievable [+243]

godoftrains: I mean look at the way they’re standing, this is hard to deny [+312]

miyoung45: no way this is real [+121]

heavenlysage90: isn’t this jumping to conclusions a bit? maybe they’re just good friends.. we have to work hard to make sure people aren’t spreading unfounded rumours to ruin the king’s reputation [+211]

Dokja’s stomach pitched in on itself. Sooyoung watched him with worried eyes, as if she could see the way his brain was going a million miles a minute, too fast for any one thought to fully form. 

“They don’t have your identity,” she repeated, this time louder for him. “Your face is completely hidden, there’s no way they’ll find you.” 

Her words registered and he breathed out, slow. Right, there was no way to tell who he was based on this picture. With this, his mind slowed a beat and he zeroed in on the more pressing concern.

“But still, Joonghyuk–”

“He’ll be fine,” she answered firmly. “He has a multimillion dollar PR firm and law team behind him.” 

Sure that was true. But a horrible, looming sense of dread and guilt bloomed over him. How stupid could he have been to not anticipate this happening? Yoo Joonghyuk was one of the most followed streamers in the country – in the rush of everything happening, he’d forgotten that. And here he was feeling giddy for himself, when in reality, he could become the very reason for the demise of Joonghyuk’s entire career. 

Stupid. Awful. Greedy. Selfish - so, so selfish. 

A belated wave of ice cold panic crashed through him as he fully swallowed the potential consequences that could come of this. He scrambled up and dialled Yoo Joonghyuk on his own phone. The other picked up in two rings. 

“Kim Dokja?”

“Yoo Joonghyuk,” Dokja gasped breathlessly. “I’m so sorry.” 

A pause. Then a sigh that came from the other end of the line. “You saw the article.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Yes.”

“Why are you sorry?” 

“Because–” Dokja stuttered. “Because your fans, they– the tabloids– your reputation–”

“Dokja, stop,” Yoo Joonghyuk said. His tone was firm and slightly angry, but above all, kind. “Everything will be fine.” 

“But I–”

“You nothing. It’s not your fault. I was the one who instigated it, anyway,” he gave a light chuckle. Dokja gaped, even as the sound travelled down his spine, warming him. How could he laugh at a time like this? 

“I’ve seen the comments,” Dokja said quietly. Behind him, Sooyoung was watching their conversation intently, lips in a hard line. 

“They mean nothing to me.” 

“I don’t think Nebula will agree.” 

“I’ll deal with Nebula. As for the tabloids, we naturally have ways of taking care of it.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“This isn’t my first time dealing with something like this. It’ll go away within a week once those vultures find something else to prey on.” 

Dokja wanted to argue that never before had it been like this. Dating rumours with actresses was one thing, but a photo of him holding hands with a man? Plus, there were other things, things Yoo Joonghyuk didn't know. Things Dokja couldn't tell him, even now, because he was a selfish, horrible man. 

He pushed those thoughts out of the way - for now, they weren't relevant. 

“But–”

“Dokja, I can take care of this.” Yoo Joonghyuk promised, interrupting him before he could say anything else. “I will take care of this.” 

“What if Nebula lets you go?” he blurted out, unable to hide the most prominent worry on his mind.

At this, the other man released a full laugh. “You know they wouldn’t do that.” 

And despite the anxious, sickening churning still coiled in his stomach, the way he said this was so infuriatingly, magnetically arrogant, Dokja’s lips twitched up of their own accord.

“Okay,” he relented, if only because there wasn't anything else he could bring himself to say. “If you’re sure.”

“I am,” came the confident response. His voice was so unshakable that Dokja couldn’t help but want to believe him, once again. Just like last night, he wished so desperately to believe Yoo Joonghyuk's words, he caged in the rest of his unspoken doubts, his own vile secrets, unable to find the courage to bring them to light when it would mean being ripped out of this tenuous dream. 

It was going to be okay wasn't it? His nails dug into his palms. 

It was a relatively harmless photo, right? Surely, the gamer’s team would find just the right words to explain it away, just like Yoo Joonghyuk and Han Sooyoung were both saying. From now on, they would just have to be extra careful. All this meant was that Dokja had to keep a hard restraint on his own greed, he shouldn’t and couldn’t ask for more than what the pro gamer could give, not when he was already risking so much. Risking much more than he even realized. Dokja's insides gave another lurch, but he clamped it down.

“How are you feeling?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked after a moment. 

“Still a bit worried, but I’m okay if you are,” he answered, forcing himself to sound lighter.

“I meant… other than that.” 

“Oh,” Dokja squeaked in surprise, heat filling his face. “I feel, ahem, good.” 

“Good. I had a nice time last night,” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice was low. And even though they were speaking through the phone, Dokja could feel his voice in his ear as if the man was standing right there. He bit a smile back, turmoil momentarily forgotten. 

“Me too,” he replied shyly. To the side, Sooyoung picked up on the fact that the conversation had clearly taken a different turn and her previously serious expression shifted into an interesting combination of disgust and glee. 

“I’ll see you soon, Kim Dokja.” 

“Yeah, see you soon.” 

With that, the two hung up.

“So I assume everything is fine?” Sooyoung drawled sarcastically. 

“He thinks it will be,” he shrugged, as nonchalant as possible. She narrowed her eyes at him, as if hearing something suspicious in his tone, but ultimately choosing to ignore it.

“I told you there’s nothing to worry about,” she said instead, words carefully pointed. “Sure there might be some fans who are turned away but between the fanbase’s loyalty to him and Nebula’s well-oiled public relations machine, he’ll ultimately come out of this unscathed.”

“Also, the comments aren’t overwhelmingly bad when you keep reading.” She turned her phone screen towards him again, showing that she’d scrolled further down. “There’s a few disgusting ones but it’s not as bad as you would think. Most of his fans are young and progressive.” 

Dokja skimmed the screen and was surprised to see that she was right. The overwhelming tone was more of shock and confusion, rather than leaning any one way positive or negative. If anything, it was a lot of fangirls lamenting that they’d lost their chance with him.

“I suppose maybe it really will be okay,” he murmured, hands twisting together on his lap. Glancing down, he could see the angry, red crescents his nails had imprinted into his palm.

The two had a quick lunch before Sooyoung headed out for a post-production meeting for her drama. Before she left, she made him promise to lay low and more importantly, not look at the headlines anymore for the rest of the day. Begrudgingly, he agreed. 

And really, he had every intention to keep that promise. He had every intention to avoid, as Sooyoung put it, spiralling into a sulking, self-hating pit of anxiety. Because he wanted to give himself this chance at something, even if it was momentary, even if he had to lie, even if it had to be done in the shadows away from prying eyes. That would still be enough for him.

But when he was alone, the dread crawled back. Fingers cold, nails sharp, curling around his throat.

The day had creeped into night when the dread finally manifested in the form of a call, the ringing shrill and unforgiving. 7:03PM. It'd taken less than 24 hours from the moment he gave in to his greed to when it all came crumbling down. 

The number flashed on the screen. He didn’t have it saved under a name but he knew it by heart. He had dozens of unanswered messages from this very number. 

They never called. It was a silent agreement they had that while they would send the occasional message, they never ever called. 

Dokja picked up. 

“Hello?”

“Dokja…” The voice was heartachingly familiar, yet so very alien. 

“Is something the matter…” he paused. “Mom?”

“Have you seen the news?” she asked softly.

Her tone gave nothing away but there was only one reason why she would call. Only one reason why she would ask him that question. Bile rose up in his throat. Blood rushed straight to his head. But curiously, his mind and heart were as calm as the dead of night, perhaps the most calm it had been all day. After all, beneath everything else, he'd known what was really coming, hadn't he?

He put the call on speakerphone and flicked open his news app. 

And there it was, at the very top. 

Yoo Joonghyuk’s rumoured love interest revealed to be son of convicted killer Lee Sookyung.

Chapter Text

Yoo Joonghyuk was right. 

Journalists were vultures. They would peck and tear apart anything in search of the most sensational stories. They would rip something that was already dead or dying until there was nothing but bones left if it meant they could have the hottest headline of the day. They would circle and circle you, until you spat out the guts of your soul. 

Kim Dokja had learned that very early on. But time passed and, at some point, he’d hoped by becoming a journalist himself, things could be different. He could hold the power by being on the other side of the page and he could be better. Maybe he’d even be able to protect himself and the people around him from the relentless, bloodthirsty fowl. 

But in this moment, he realized how foolishly, terribly naive and arrogant he’d been. At the end of the day, he was just a story himself. And to the world, he was just this one specific story. 

Nothing else. 

-

12 YEARS AGO

His uncle snapped close the blinds violently, shutting out the camera lens that had been trying to poke through the foliage just on the other side of the glass. 

“Every. Fucking. Morning,” he muttered angrily. 

At the kitchen table, Dokja shrank into himself and silently took tiny bites of his watery porridge as he read the latest update of a web novel he’d been following.

He was hoping he’d be ignored as usual today, but it seemed his uncle was having a Bad Mood Day. The hawkish man stormed towards the table and slammed his hand next to Dokja’s bowl. The porridge clattered dangerously close to the edge but he saved it, just in time. 

“We haven’t had a single moment of peace since your mom released that book,” his uncle seethed. “Just what was she thinking?” 

Dokja stayed silent, knowing that the older man didn’t want an answer, only an outlet to release his anger. Even if he did want one, Dokja wouldn’t have a response anyway. His mother hadn’t given him any warning or explanation either. 

“Don’t be so hard on the boy,” his aunt chided from where she was standing at the stove, preparing a rolled omelette for his cousin. “He didn’t ask for this either.” 

“We take in her son out of the kindness of our hearts, and this is how we’re repaid?” This was the same rant that his uncle would launch into every other day, Dokja nearly knew it by heart at this point. “It’s already bad enough we have to live the rest of our lives being associated with a murderer, now we can’t even leave our house without reporters shoving their damned microphones in our faces.” 

His aunt only sighed and didn’t say anything else. But Dokja could see on her face that she agreed with him. 

A few minutes later, she turned to him. “Dokja, you should get going. You don’t want to be late and get another write-up from your teacher.” 

He complied without a word, pulling his backpack on. Just as he was about to leave, his aunt came to straighten the name tag on his uniform. 

“Work hard and stay out of trouble. You can’t afford another failed test this year.” 

Dokja nodded minutely and once she was satisfied, he stepped out, quickly closing the door behind him. It was a habit they’d all developed over the last month since the book’s release because immediately upon leaving, he was met by the aforementioned swarm of microphones and cameras. 

“Kim Dokja, your mother’s book has reached number one on the bestseller’s list this week - do you have any thoughts about it?” 

“Is it true your father pushed her over the edge or is that just a lie she came up with to try and gain sympathy now that she’s been convicted?”

“Have you had any contact with your mother since she’s been imprisoned?” 

Dokja pulled his jacket around him tighter and squeezed through the suffocating throng of arms and bodies as he always did. The shouts of questions were deafening, so loud he couldn’t even hear his own thoughts. He pushed harder. 

Suddenly, a stray foot caught against his. A momentary feeling of weightlessness, suspended in the air - then he was falling. 

Sharp pain shot through his arms as he caught himself against the pavement. Dust and rock scraped against his school uniform, and all he could focus on was the fact that his teacher was going to lecture him yet again for being “unsightly”. 

“Kim Dokja, give us a comment!” 

“How can you have no reaction at all when your very own mom is currently sitting in jail, exploiting your intimate family experiences for money?” 

The questions didn’t stop. Nobody helped him up or asked if he was okay – in fact they crowded even closer now that he’d finally stopped moving. The press of bodies was making him sick to his stomach. 

He had to get away. 

He quickly scrambled up, pain shooting through his hands - they were clearly bloodied, skin gruesomely hanging off the heel of his palm. Ignoring it, he shoved them into his pockets and broke away from the crushing horde of cameras, running now. 

Dokja didn’t stop, even after losing them. He ran until he reached the gates of his school and into the hallways.  Turning a corner, he nearly bumped into his homeroom teacher. 

“Dokja?” The spindly man startled, jumping backwards 

“Sorry Mr. Park,” Dokja hurriedly bowed, voice small.  Mr. Park pushed up his wired glasses and regarded him up and down, noticing the dusty uniform and bloodied hands. 

“Dokja, did you get yourself into another mess?” he sighed. 

Dokja pushed his hands back into his pockets. “Sorry,” he repeated. 

The man pinched the bridge of his nose as if the sight of him was giving him a terrible headache.  “Just get to class, you’re nearly late.” 

Dokja nodded and bowed again before hurrying off in the direction of their classroom. He slipped into the back and silently sat down at his desk in the corner. The room was abuzz with scattered conversations between friend groups, nobody paying any mind to his quiet entrance. 

As he took out his language textbook in preparation for their first period, a group of boys near the classroom lockers began to glance in his direction. The tan skinned one with a close cropped cut, Song Minwoo, sauntered over to him with a smirk. 

“Yah, Dokja, ” he called his name in a mocking tone. “What’d you do? Roll in the dirt on your way to school?” 

Dokja didn’t look up, continuing to flip the pages of his book. Minwoo stopped at his desk and kicked his chair, nearly toppling him over. 

“I guess that would track, considering you’re just a piece of roadside trash after all.” 

His friends snickered. However, after getting no response from the smaller boy, Minwoo’s malicious grin wiped off his face, replaced by a simmering anger. 

“You’re ignoring me now?” He slammed his hand onto the open textbook, crumpling the page beneath it. 

“Dokja, Minwoo, settle down,” came Mr. Park’s stern voice as he walked through the entry, noting that the two boys were already fighting first thing in the morning. 

Song Minwoo quickly retracted his hand and turned to flash their teacher a quick smile, all teeth.  “Sorry Mr. Park, we were just having a little chat.”

The teacher waved his hand tiredly, and Minwoo quickly returned to his own seat, a face of innocence. Without further fuss, the class began as normal. 

For Dokja, the day passed as it always did. Grey and vacant, crawling along at an excruciating pace. He was there, listening to lectures and taking notes, but he also wasn’t. It made it slightly more bearable, being there but also not there. 

Lunch rolled around and a familiar routine unfolded. 

“You almost got me in trouble earlier, Dokja,” Minwoo and his friends approached his desk as soon as Mr. Park was gone for the break. “How are you going to make it up to me?” 

There was a point in time, Dokja couldn’t remember when now though, that he might’ve said something back. A response at least, however pathetic it might’ve been. But that time was long gone. Now, he was just silent. 

Silent, even as the goons dragged him out of the classroom by the scruff of his collar. Silent, just like all his classmates were as they watched it happen for the nth time, whispering, giggling even, behind hands. Silent, when Minwoo shoved him against the rough concrete of the school roof. Dokja was falling for the second time that day. 

“I got detention because of you last time, fuckhead,” Minwoo spat out, throwing a punch at his head. Dokja just barely raised his arms in time to somewhat block it. His skull rang out in pain as the fist clipped him. 

One of his friends took a drag of a cigarette and laughed as he leaned down to dig the red hot tip into Dokja’s arm. He flinched away and his friend only crowed harder. 

“Look at him, he’s like a dog!” 

Another tall, scraggly boy chimed in, crooning: “Aw, don’t go so hard on him. He can’t help that he’s fucked in the head when his mom’s a murderer.” 

Minwoo barked in mirth at this. “Is that why you’re always picking fights with me Dokja? You can’t help it, huh?” 

His eyes narrowed in malevolence as he laser focused on Kim Dokja, still sprawled on the ground. “It’s in your DNA.” 

The larger boy dropped down to a squat and pushed his face until it was mere inches from his. He stank of smoke and sweat.

“Now that your psycho bitch of a mom has been locked up, why don’t you just go disappear as well? The world would certainly be better off if your entire messed up family was wiped from the face of the earth.”

Minwoo chuckled lowly and Dokja just shut his eyes, knowing what was coming next. Punches and kicks ensued. They went on until the boys finally got bored and Minwoo grunted about being hungry. 

They walked off, chatting idly about that day’s cafeteria menu. Apparently it was stewed tomatoes, Minwoo’s favourite. The roof door slammed with a bang behind them. 

Dokja laid there. 

His body ached, but it wasn’t anything he wasn’t accustomed to. The wind picked up and it felt nice, the coldness curling around his body and covering him in a frigid shell.  His eyes drifted up slowly. He could see the railing of the roof from here. And beyond that, an impossibly clear blue sky. 

It was a beautiful day, he recalled. There wasn’t a cloud in that sky. When he reached out with his fingertips, he almost felt as if he could touch it. He wanted to touch it. 

Dokja pulled himself up, ignoring the protests of his body and found himself at the railing. The metal was cool, a relief beneath his scraped hands. 

He didn’t look down.

Later on when the doctors in muted, plush rooms would probe him about that moment, asking about what was on his mind, he wouldn’t have an answer. 

The sky looked pretty. That was all he would say. 

And how did you feel? They would ask. 

He would be confused by that question. He hadn’t felt anything. In those years, he never felt anything. 

Back then, he spent all his time hidden away inside the nice room in his mind. Sure, it was a bit lonely sometimes, but it was certainly better than being on the other side of the wall – he’d seen what was there and he hadn't liked it one bit. 

And the doctors would jot this down in their little notepads, nodding sagely. Dissociation. They liked that word a lot. 

They never discussed what came after, interestingly. They asked and asked about those moments leading up to it, but never about after. And for a long time, Dokja couldn’t even remember what happened after. 

But he remembered now. 

He fell three times that day. 

-

PRESENT DAY 

Kim Dokja had been careful all his life to ensure he had minimal presence on the internet. He didn’t have any photos or social media accounts. And even though his name was on the bylines of his articles, he had agreed with Uriel when he started that he wouldn’t have a writer’s profile attached to him. 

His middle school and high school years were hell. First when his mother was convicted, and again when there was renewed attention when her tell-all book was released. But luckily, by the time university rolled around, the world had moved on to juicier, more gruesome crimes. And the money that had come from Lee Sookyung’s book had been enough for him to get through school, as had been her plan all along.

Years had passed without anyone recognizing him. After all, he looked vastly different compared to the pale, gaunt boy with sunken dark circles pictured in all the news stories from 12 years ago. 

But there he was again. His own face on the screen staring back at him. The worst sensation of deja vu filled his gut, nauseating him. 

Someone had taken another photo of him and Yoo Joonghyuk from a different angle. This time, his face was clearly visible. And while he had worked so hard to keep himself in the shadows all this time, it likely only took an extra eager journalist looking to break his next big story a few hours of digging to unearth him. 

Someone must’ve tipped them off, helping them connect the dots between the smiling man in this photo and the sickly child of old newspaper clippings. Maybe it was an old teacher or doctor. Maybe it was his estranged extended family. Maybe it was fucking Song Minwoo, back to haunt him again.

He watched the news reel flicker across his screen, dragging out from obscurity every cruel detail of his childhood. They went as far as to show his mother’s old mugshot, her face fifteen years younger and still free from the lines that gradually creased into her skin during her time in prison. They pulled direct excerpts from her book, the ones that depicted the times when his father was still alive, a monstrous man who drank himself each night to oblivion before turning his self-hatred towards his wife and son. 

He watched it all. But he was far away.

And he felt nothing. 

Chapter Text

The first thing that hit Dokja when he entered the Eden headquarters was the sheer chaos in the air. The second thing was a stack of papers that flew out of a passing intern’s hands as the young college-aged boy choked on his coffee when he saw the junior writer come in. 

The boy hurriedly set his mug aside and gathered up the files from where they’d fallen to the ground. Dokja bent down to help but the other did it so quickly there was nothing left for him to pick up. The intern murmured out a quick apology and raced away without meeting Dokja’s eyes, arms full of paper. In his rush, he’d forgotten his coffee behind.

Dokja’s gaze swept the office. His coworkers were all huddled in little groups, speaking to each other in anxious, hushed tones. The phones were ringing incessantly and it was clear that they’d all given up on answering them. 

Someone noticed his entrance and soon all eyes in the room turned to him, conversations ceasing. Some quickly glanced away, as if embarrassed to be caught looking, while others full on stared. 

“What’s everyone doing standing around? Don’t you all have work to do?” A snappish voice came from behind Dokja. He turned to find Bihyung standing there, glaring at their team. 

Everyone quickly dispersed at his words, mumbling apologies as they found their way back to their desks. Dokja could hear snippets of conversation as some of them picked up the persistent calls that were coming in. 

“Unfortunately we cannot release any personal information about our staff…” 

“Eden cannot comment on that at this moment…” 

Bihyung put a hand on his shoulder, bringing his attention back. 

“Don’t pay them any mind.” He looked at Dokja with concern. 

Dokja just shrugged and gave a little laugh. “I suppose it can only be expected.” 

“Are you alright?” the senior writer asked, voice soft and eyes wide. It was an alien expression Dokja had never seen before on the usually surly man. 

Dokja hated it. He knew Bihyung meant well, but he hated it. He’d worked so hard, for years, to make a new life for himself, one where people weren’t constantly looking at him with either palpable disgust or sickening sympathy. He was a fool to think he’d ever escape it. 

He averted his gaze, not wanting to meet the other's eyes. 

“It’s okay, I knew this day would come eventually and I’ve had a good run,” he said lightly. “I’m sorry for keeping everyone in the dark about it and causing this mess.” 

“Why would you be–” Bihyung’s tone turned frustrated. “What do you mean you’ve had a good run?”

“I don’t want to make things any more troublesome for all of you, I’m just here today to get my stuff and formally turn in my resignation.” 

The older man went silent for a moment. 

“Does Uriel know about this?” he asked finally, his lips tightening into a grim line. 

Dokja nodded. “I emailed her last night. She told me to come in and talk to her today about it.” 

Bihyung sighed heavily, and ran a distressed hand through his hair. A multitude of expressions flitted over his face, as if he was debating internally whether to say something. 

He seemed to decide against it and gave a short, resigned nod instead. “Alright, kid. If that’s what you think is best for you right now.” 

As Dokja turned away in the direction of Uriel’s office, Bihyung spoke up once more. “For what it’s worth though, I hope you change your mind.” 

Dokja just gave him a faint smile and walked away, hands in his pockets. 

Down the hall, he took a deep breath and stepped into Uriel’s office. Bright sunlight was streaming into the room as always, but sitting in the middle, his editor was not looking the image of angelic peace. 

“ Stop calling you fuckwads.” He walked in on her snapping into the phone before violently slamming down the receiver. She noticed his presence and quickly rearranged her expression into something more neutral. 

“Dokja,” Uriel stood up, her long black dress swishing as she stepped around her desk. “Thank you for coming in today.”

“It’s okay,” he rubbed the back of his head. “It was improper of me to just send an email.” 

She let out a breath and for once, her eyes were entirely serious and her lips turned down. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I don’t want you to feel like you have to resign over this.” 

“Editor-nim, I appreciate you saying that but…” Dokja’s fingers fiddled idly as he looked down. “But I’ve been through this before. Trust me, it’s best for Eden not to have any connection with me right now.” 

At this, Uriel’s face twisted into something furious. “But that would be punishing you when you haven’t even done anything wrong!” 

His mouth quirked up. What a strange position to be in. He felt as if he was consoling his own boss over his impending unemployment. 

“I’ll be fine,” Dokja offered quietly. “We both know very well how the media can be.” 

“Why don’t you just take a temporary leave?” she asked, grasping for ideas. “Things will blow over.” 

He shook his head, and he could feel his fingernails digging into his palms. “I’m leaving Seoul and I don’t know when I’ll be back.” 

Uriel’s green eyes widened in shock, and he thought he could see tears prickling in her eyes. He hadn’t realized she’d gotten so attached to him. And why?... He was just another junior writer. Nobody special, easily replaceable. 

“You’re leaving?” she repeated. 

“I know what’s going to happen next,” he said. “It’s going to get much worse before it gets better and it’s best if I stay away from the city. Unfortunately, I learned that the hard way from my childhood.” 

She sat down in a slump on one of the cushy chairs scattered in front of her desk. 

“Oh, Dokja.” Her blonde hair fell in waves all around her shoulders. “If I knew this was going to happen, I never would’ve…” 

He spoke before his editor could finish her sentence. While he was trying to be as collected as possible in this moment, he really didn’t want to hear about how much she regretted hiring him after having uncovered his dismal past. For all his laments, this was the first place he’d ever worked where he felt fulfilled and he preferred to leave on a good note. 

“I’m sorry,” he interjected. Shuffling closer, he handed her the enveloped letter that he’d prepared that morning. “This is my formal resignation.” 

Uriel took it in her hand dejectedly. 

“Thank you for everything, editor-nim.” He bowed and made his way out. 

“I hope this isn’t goodbye,” she said to his retreating back, her tone bleak and remorseful. 

“I hope not either.” 

That’s what he said to Uriel, but as he quickly packed away the few personal items he had at his desk while trying to ignore the furtive glances coming from all directions, he knew this likely was the end. 

He was going to have to start over – again . 

Just like he did in middle school when his mother had been arrested and quickly convicted after the murder of his father. He had to be withdrawn from school as reporters had been showing up daily at the school gates, his presence disrupting the learning environment as the administrators called it. And he had to be spirited away to another town by his aunt and uncle. 

And then in high school, after he jumped off the school roof one cold, autumn day. At the time, the media scrutiny had already resurged to an all-time high following the publishing of his mom’s bestselling memoir and his failed attempt didn’t make anything better. After a two month long stint in the hospital, he awoke to find that his extended family had finally grown tired of dealing with his shit and had turned custody over to the government. And so his final years of school were done in some quiet, unknown corner of the country until he came of age. 

Time passed, and he’d begun to let go of the fear that he would have to do that again. But here he was, at the same place once more, like an unending, repeating nightmare. 

Some of his coworkers tried to come talk to him as he was packing but he sidestepped all the conversations as best as he could. He really couldn’t stand to see the sympathy in their eyes. Not when it was likely just a thin veil for revulsion and horror. 

Once everything was in a box, Dokja made a quick exit. He even took a taxi to ensure that he made it straight home, not wanting to risk being recognized on public transit. 

Maybe this was all supposed to feel more gut-wrenching but for some reason, Dokja couldn’t scrounge up the emotion. Maybe deep down, he’d been mentally preparing himself for this day to come and so now, all that was left was that familiar numbness. 

At home, he robotically packed away his things. It’s funny you don’t realize how much stuff you accumulate over the years until you’re leaving a place. 

He didn’t have the energy to box up everything and so he only stuffed the essentials into his suitcase. Dokja decided to deal with the rest later, he had enough in his savings now to cover rent for the next while. 

As he contemplated over his coats, Han Sooyoung flew in through the door.

“Yah, you bastard, what are you doing?” she demanded as soon as she entered the threshold, eyes sweeping across his messy apartment with clothes flung across all surfaces. 

“What does it look like?” he raised an eyebrow, gesturing at his open suitcase.

Sooyoung stalked up to him and grabbed his arm with ferocity. “Why?”

Dokja sighed. “Don’t ask me stupid questions, I know you’ve seen the news.” Her mouth tightened, face darkening dangerously.

If there was anyone in the world who should understand, it was Han Sooyoung. While she’d never been there when things were at their worst, he’d become online friends with her shortly after his hospital stay. He had happened to stumble upon her first web novel and became one of her early readers. After that, they found themselves at the same college and the rest was history.

She was the only one in his life who knew anything about his childhood. 

“It doesn’t mean you have to leave,” she argued, but even Sooyoung didn’t sound as contentious as she usually did. She didn’t really believe what she was saying either. 

“I do,” he calmly said. “As soon as someone gets hold of my address - and they will - this entire complex is going to be mobbed. Eden as well – they’re already getting nonstop calls. I won’t be able to step outside without someone recognizing me. And anyone in my vicinity won’t be able to get any peace either.” 

“But–”

“Sooyoung,” Dokja interrupted her and her hand on his arm tightened even more. “You know I’ve done this all before. This time, I just want to avoid it as much as I can.” 

At this, she fell silent. They stood there, looking at each other. Her inky eyes were tremoring. 

“Where are you going?” she finally asked, letting him go. 

He inhaled. “Home.” 

Sooyoung’s mouth dropped open. 

“It’s about time anyway, don’t you think?” Dokja gave a tight little laugh. “You’re always telling me to stop avoiding my problems."

She scrutinized him, her gaze ardent. "You're sure about this?" 

"My– she’s been reaching out for a while now and I... haven't been good about responding," he looked away.

"It's time," he repeated.

“Okay.” She shut her eyes, breathing in sharply. “Okay.” 

Her tone was thick, but it seemed she was now mostly placated, or at least reluctantly accepting. Dokja turned around to continue with his packing. He struggled as he attempted to stuff his puffy jacket into the suitcase. 

Sooyoung's scoff came from behind his back. “Need help?” 

He looked up at his best friend and was relieved to see that she was back to wearing a sarcastic smile. Her eyes were still scrunched with concern but at least the teasing glint was back in them. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to handle it if Han Sooyoung looked at him the same way all those other people did. 

“Yes,” he admitted, and they both laughed - real this time. A strand of tension released in his chest. 

They spent the rest of the afternoon loading up his things. She showed him how to roll up his clothes to ensure that there was enough room for everything. They chatted and bickered as they always did and it almost all felt normal. 

And then they were at his door as she was about to leave. 

Sooyoung settled her eyes on him. “You better answer when I call,” she warned. 

“I will,” he crossed his arms. 

“If you avoid them, I will hunt you down.” 

“I won’t.”

“I know the address!”

“Yes I know,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You don’t have to–” 

Han Sooyoung threw her arms around him. He made a noise of surprise – Sooyoung was not a hugger. 

“What–” 

“Hug me back, you ass!” Her voice was muffled by his sweater. 

Tentatively, he did as she demanded. She was nearly a full head shorter than him so he rested his arms around her shoulders. It was nice. 

A few moments passed and his ears pricked up at an approaching noise. There were quiet but purposeful footsteps nearing his door. The two of them let go and a small smile curved on Sooyoung’s face, the mischief in it all too familiar. 

“Kim Dokja.” 

Dokja’s breath hitched. No. He had been prepared for all the goodbyes that day but not– 

“Right on time, Yoo Joonghyuk,” Sooyoung turned to face the visitor at the door. “I was just leaving.” 

The man outside fixed her with a hard look, but she cheerfully ignored it. She turned and gave Dokja one last too-hard punch on the shoulder. 

“Remember – make sure to pick up my calls.” With that she disappeared, leaving him to rub his poor arm gloomily. 

Yoo Joonghyuk stepped inside wordlessly and closed the door behind him. Dokja quickly took several steps back to keep their distance respectable. 

He glanced up, unable to avoid looking at him any further. Yoo Joonghyuk’s hair was swept in all directions, as if he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly. His face however, was unreadable. 

Damn it, what was he here for? To berate him for lying to him? To tell him that getting involved with him was a mistake? After all, what had started as a run of the mill dating rumour had turned into something much more monstrous and difficult to manage.

Dokja felt that he didn’t even have the right to look the gamer in the eyes right now. But it seemed he was going to be shameless until the end. 

“Fancy seeing you here, Yoo Joonghyuk,” Dokja greeted weakly. 

The other’s eyes flitted across the room, his gaze quickly darkening as he took in the packed suitcase. And when he finally opened his mouth to speak, it was entirely not what Dokja expected. 

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” Dokja couldn’t help but let out a bewildered laugh, but it didn’t sound right, even to his own ears. “Why would you be sorry?” 

The taller man’s expression twisted into something that almost looked like pain. “I promised I’d take care of it and…” 

“Ah,” Dokja waved his hand in the air. “Well, I didn’t exactly tell you everything, did I? So let’s call it even.” 

As if there was any comparison. 

Yoo Joonghyuk took another step forward and Dokja automatically took one back. At this, the other flashed him a hurt look. His heart squeezed. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Joonghyuk’s voice came out low and rough. 

Dokja huffed out a breath, feigning a witty smile. “For some reason, I don’t usually run around starting conversations about how my mom murdered my dad, went to jail, and then decided to write a bestselling book about it.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk flinched. Good, Dokja thought to himself. He hoped he felt horrified. Disgusted even. 

“If anything, I should be the one to say sorry,” Dokja barrelled forward, nails digging into his hands for the second time that day. “I’ve dragged you into something much worse than just this week’s dating scandal.” 

Joonghyuk’s eyes burned. "I told you, I don't care about that." 

"I don't think your sponsors will share that opinion," he tried to raise his brows in an expression that was hopefully teasing. “But luckily for you, I won’t be around to cause any further damage to your reputation. So your team can just come out with a statement saying that you have nothing to do with me and it should all be okay.” 

“You’re leaving.” It was a statement, rather than a question. The zipped up luggage made it rather obvious what was happening. Dokja nodded anyway. 

“When are you coming back?” 

Dokja looked away. “I don’t know.” 

“Are you coming back?” 

A pause. “I don’t know.” 

The silence that stretched between them after he dropped those words was deafening, unbearable. 

Dokja glanced at the time. “My train is coming soon. I should go.” 

“Let me drive you to the station.”

“What?” Dokja startled. “N-no, it’s fine, I’ll call a taxi.” 

“Let me drive you,” Yoo Joonghyuk gritted out. 

Dokja took the handle of his suitcase. “No, really, it’s okay. What if someone sees you with me again?”

Joonghyuk grabbed it as well, engulfing his hand with his larger one. At the touch, Dokja recoiled as if he’d been burned. Except that was a mistake, because now his luggage was in the other’s possession and being dragged away by him. 

“Hey!” Dokja cried out, running after him and hurriedly locking the door behind them. “Okay fine, you can drive me, bastard.”

The trip to the rail station was quiet. Dokja snuck glances at the man beside him but Yoo Joonghyuk’s face was stony again, not giving away an eke of emotion. 

He didn’t understand why the stubborn guy had insisted on driving him but… he was probably glad to be getting rid of him. Sure, they’d had their night of fun but Joonghyuk likely felt as if he’d signed up for more than he’d expected. No hookup was worth this sort of media circus along with parsing through what was essentially a lifetime of trauma. 

His heart ached against his will, and Dokja chided himself. What he’d gotten – wasn’t that enough? He shouldn’t have been so greedy as to hope for a date, or even multiple dates, or god, a real relationship. It wasn’t in the books for someone like him, he should've learned that well enough ago. And certainly a man like Yoo Joonghyuk deserved much, much better. 

The car pulled in front of the station and the two got out. It was the middle of a weekday and so it was mostly deserted, but still Dokja nervously looked around, wondering if there were cameras hidden around some corner. He wanted to tell Joonghyuk to quickly get back in the car – one picture could be explained away but a second wouldn’t be so easy. 

Yoo Joonghyuk on the other hand seemed distracted and unaware, pulling his suitcase out of the back for him almost painfully slowly. Dokja gave a breath of relief when he finally handed the luggage to him, being careful this time not to brush their hands. 

“Well, it’s time I got out of your hair,” Dokja joked with fake cheer, turning for the doors leading inside. "I wish you the best of luck with everything."

He'd only made it two steps before Joonghyuk’s hand shot out to grab his wrist. It was warm. This touch, this hand, this person, it was always warm.

“Kim Dokja.”

“What?” He looked back at Yoo Joonghyuk and instantly wished he hadn’t. He’d dropped his stoic mask. Those dark eyes, the ones that had the power to make his knees shake and head spin, the ones that Dokja had learned over these last couple months were more expressive than anyone else knew, were now rippling with some heartbreaking emotion as they stared at him. His heart felt as if it was going to rip out of his chest and the resolve Dokja had been building up in the car crumbled in an instant. 

“I–”

No. He absolutely was not going to let Yoo Joonghyuk say whatever it was he was going to say. Whatever it was, he couldn’t face it. There were many things Kim Dokja could endure in this world, but somehow, the one thing he knew he unquestionably couldn’t endure was Yoo Joonghyuk’s honesty in this moment. 

“Stop,” Dokja cut him off, voice cracking. He had been able to stay composed all day but now, of all times, he finally felt a burning behind his eyes and at his throat. 

“Please, stop,” he repeated, croaking. “I need to go, I can’t stay, and I just–”

He cleared his throat and swiped at his face, furious at the wetness welling in his eyes. “Please don’t make this harder. Remember what I said back then? I’m not good like you think I am and I’m–”

He breathed again, this time words coming out much more steady. “I’m sorry I made you think I was something that I’m not. That’s my fault. I’m really sorry about all the trouble I’ve caused for you. I’d like you to just forget about me and think of this all as an unfortunate mistake.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk took in his words, his lips tightening to form a grimace. He shut his eyes, and Dokja almost felt relief that the other’s gaze was momentarily no longer pinned on him. 

“Kim Dokja, you fool…” he murmured, his voice hoarse as well.

And Dokja had to laugh at that because yes, he was a fucking fool. The biggest of them all. 

Then the laughter died on his lips and they continued to stand like that for a beat, the other still clutching his wrist. The hand kept tightening, then loosening, as if uncertain what it wanted.

“Just tell me one thing,” Yoo Joonghyuk opened his eyes again and put his other hand to his cheek, so gentle it stole Dokja’s breath away. He couldn’t help but lean into the familiar warmth, like an addict returning for a final fix. He could feel rough fingertips graze against the corner of his eye, brushing away a stray tear ever so lightly. 

“Will I ever get to meet you again?” 

Dokja’s throat constricted so painfully with anguish at the question, his head swam. He wanted to lie, but he couldn't. Not to Yoo Joonghyuk.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, raw. 

Yoo Joonghyuk nodded as if he had expected that answer, and let his hands drop away.

“I’m sorry too.” 

And then he was gone, leaving behind nothing but a cold, cold void where he had touched him. 

Chapter Text

Kim Dokja sobbed on the train like he had never sobbed before. Sobbed in a way that he didn’t even realize he was capable of, after being numb for so, so long. He cried for Bihyung and Uriel and his abandoned desk at Eden. He cried for Shin Yoosung, Lee Gilyoung, Jung Heewon and all the people he’d met who had unknowingly at some point snuck in and built permanent homes inside his heart. He cried for his best friend who brought him jjajangmyeon because she always knew when he hadn’t eaten dinner. 

He cried for Yoo Joonghyuk, because as hard as he'd tried to fight it – and oh god, he really had fought so hard – he had fallen for him the moment he’d laid eyes on him. 

And most of all, he cried for himself. He cried for the years and years that he didn’t shed a single tear. He cried because it suddenly all felt so unfair. 

At least when he’d been young, every aspect of his life had been so bitterly awful that it barely mattered when he was forced to run and hide from the world. It was just another unlucky thing tacked onto a lifetime of misfortune. 

But over the last decade, he’d built a life for himself. A life that, he was stunned to recognize now, he liked. A life where he was even happy, surrounded by people he loved. At one point, the idea of this had been so outlandish, he didn’t think it was possible. 

But somehow, without his conscious knowledge, it had happened. 

Now it was going to be taken away. And it just wasn’t fair. This realization unfurled inside of him like venomous weeds, swarming his senses and leaving astringent acid behind in his mouth. 

Dokja had never been one to dwell on the fairness of life, not when it was something so clearly removed for a person like him. He’d never even entertained too much whether or not he was deserving of something so elusive when the fates had seemingly already determined he wasn’t. 

But a newfound sensation of wrongly afflicted cruelty was taking hold in him that he couldn’t prevent. He couldn’t help but feel as if something truly precious had been taken from him.

But it was a feeling that had nowhere to go. So he could only sit there with it, the stinging sadness like an anchor within, and cry for himself and all that he was leaving behind. 

-

Dokja allowed himself to wallow in this self-pity for the duration of the ride, and when he emerged from the train, he felt emptied dry. A hollow sense of exhaustion buried deep inside him, but he took a breath – there were more things yet to face. Namely, his mother and the intricate mess of feelings that always inevitably came along with her: heartache, resentment, gratitude, longing… among others that all twisted inside of him in labyrinthian chaos. 

He stepped out of the mostly deserted station onto a dirt road. The sun was setting behind the grassy field across the street, the twilight creeping across the sky washing it in hues of burnt sienna and deep violets. 

Dokja wasn’t familiar with this place. It wasn’t where he’d grown up, on the edges of Seoul, but rather a sleepy town in the middle of nowhere, Jeollabuk-do. His mother had moved here after her release to get away from anyone who might recognize her from her old life. He seldom visited her, and so he wasn’t exactly sure how to navigate himself. 

Luckily, there was a single taxi parked on the road. He dragged his suitcase over and knocked on the window. A grizzled driver rolled it down, puffing a drag of a cigarette right into his face. 

“Whad’ya want?” the older man grunted. 

Dokja held up the address he had saved on his phone and gave the best attempt of a cheery smile he could muster at the moment. “A ride?” 

The driver grudgingly waved him in. He quickly got on, hauling his luggage after him. 

“Who’re you here to see?” the man questioned, flicking out his smoke as he started the car up. The engine made a spluttering, growling noise before coming on. 

“Lee Sookyung,” he answered, settling himself into the seat. 

The driver made a surprised noise and squinted at him suspiciously through the rearview mirror. “Sookyung, huh? Can’t say she gets many out-of-town visitors.” 

Dokja was silent for a moment. 

“She’s my–,” he took a quick, quiet breath. “My mother.”

The man immediately brightened up at this revelation. “Ah, her son? You’re the journalist who lives in Seoul!”

The son in question gave a startled, sheepish smile. “Yes, I suppose that’s me.” He hadn’t realized his mom had mentioned him to others. 

“I heard from her that you’re usually quite busy with work! So what brings you into our little town?” 

Dokja turned his head to watch as fields of rice passed outside the window, the grassy crops silhouetted against fast disappearing sunlight. “I just wanted to get away from the city for a while.”

The elder gave a little snort. “I can imagine. I’ve never been to Seoul but my granddaughter lives there these days and it sounds like a right nightmare to an old fart like me.” 

He continued to chatter about his grandchildren for the rest of the ride while Dokja politely listened on, fingers fidgeting and mind wandering. 

How long had it been since he last saw his mother? He couldn’t remember right now. Perhaps the spring before the last, when he’d just started at Eden. Anyhow it had been a short visit, a day or two at the most. He also recalled promising her at the time to keep in touch more, and that was something he’d unquestionably failed at. Would she be angry when she saw him? Would she even let him stay? 

He wasn’t sure, but it was too late to second guess his decision to come here now. 

“Here we are,” the driver announced, pulling up to a little house on the edge of town. It looked unfamiliar. 

Dokja looked down at his phone, double checking the address. This was indeed it. 

“Thank you.” He paid and stepped out. 

“Say hello to Sookyoung for me!” And with that, the taxi was gone. 

Dokja carefully made his way through the front yard, stopping at the door. He raised his hand to knock, hesitating. Was he ready for this? 

But before he could make a move or change his mind, it opened before him. Warm light poured out through the doorway, flooding into the twilight where he stood. 

“Dokja?” 

She stood there. Smaller and thinner than he remembered, but beautiful as always. Her long, dark hair was pulled up into a low bun, loose strands falling around her face. There were new wrinkles around her eyes that he didn’t recall being there before. 

His voice caught in his throat. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure what to say. There was a lifetime’s worth of trapped words flooding his chest. 

“The new garden looks nice,” he mumbled out the first thing he could think of. He’d realized as he was approaching the door that the home had looked unfamiliar at first because there was so much greenery sprouting throughout the yard now, it nearly covered the facade. 

His mother looked a bit taken aback by his greeting, but it quickly softened into a small smile. 

“I’ve had a lot of time on my hands,” she chuckled. 

A moment of silence ensued, and Dokja looked past her into the house. A chilly bite to the air was quickly forming as the sky continued to darken, and he shivered imperceptibly just outside the threshold of the home.

Sookyoung’s eyes flickered down and took in his suitcase. “Would you like to come in?”

Just barely an instant of hesitation, then a nod. 

He mutely stepped inside, toeing off his shoes. It was a small, one-floor house but it was cozy and tidy. The floors were swept spotlessly clean. 

“Have you eaten?” she asked. At this question, he noticed for the first time the pang of emptiness in his stomach. 

“Ah, no,” he replied, following her down the hallway into the main living area. 

“I can heat up some leftovers. Do you still like kongnamul guk?” 

He gave a small sound of approval. 

Dokja sat down as she busied herself in the kitchen and brought out little side dishes. His eyes wandered. Unlike the outside, the interior was faintly as he had remembered it. Shelves of books lined the walls, some titles that he recognized and many more that he didn’t. One in particular jumped out at him – it was a fantasy series his mom used to read to him before bedtime. The spines were well-worn, attesting to their age. 

“I would’ve prepared more if I had known you were coming.” Her voice snapped his attention back to the table where she was setting down a bowl of bean sprout soup with rice. She sat down across from him.

“It’s okay, I didn’t exactly give you a heads up,” Dokja said, taking a sip of the broth. It was warm, savoury, and tasted of forgotten memories. It was good. He took another.

“Are you here for work?” His mother has never been one to beat around the bush. 

He swallowed. “No, I’ve taken a leave of absence from work.” It was a slight lie but there was no need to worry her over his sudden, self-inflicted unemployment. 

She frowned, before understanding dawned on her face. Dokja watched as a film of emotions flicked through her eyes. 

She sighed. “This is because of…” 

He gave a small nod but tried his best to pull his lips up into a reassuring smile. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just waiting for it to blow over.” 

Sookyoung shut her eyes for a moment. “Dokja-yah, I’m–” 

Over the years since her conviction, her jail time, then finally her discharge, there had been many words exchanged between them, both said and unsaid. Angry words, guarded words, grieving words, and apologetic words. And there were certain words he didn’t want to rehash – even well meaning, they were another burden on top of a lifetime of burdens.  

So, instead of allowing her to say those words again, he said them first. Anyway, this time it was on him.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly murmured. “I should’ve been more careful. I’ve pulled everything back into the spotlight for you.” 

“No, Dokja,” his mother breathed out, her eyes flying open. “It’s not your fault. You never asked for this.” 

He looked down at his food. The rice in his mouth was suddenly having a hard time going down. 

“You didn’t either,” he responded, voice small. And it was true. She had never asked for all of this either – everything she’d done had always been out of necessity to protect him . Dokja has understood that very well for a long time, but it was the first time he’s admitted it out loud. 

A quiet stretched out between them. Until Sookyoung surprised him with a little laugh, the sound pulling his eyes up to meet her’s – they were a dark, dark grey, a shade identical to his own. And right now, they were crinkled up in what almost looked like mirth.  

“You know, barely anything reaches this little hillbilly town. I’ll be fine,” she said, waving her hand without care. “The only reason I saw anything was because I like to stay updated on you and your articles.” 

The natural reaction of a child’s embarrassment upon hearing that your mother has been reading your work flooded his cheeks. Her expression was now openly teasing, it was the same one she used to wear when he was small and she caught him reading under the covers, past his bedtime. 

“Speaking of articles,” her eyebrows rose. “This Yoo Joonghyuk fellow…”

Dokja coughed on a piece of kimchi. 

“Isn’t he the reason for all this mess anyway?” 

“Wh–what, no!” 

“Well, he should’ve known better, considering how apparently famous he is.”

“I was the one who didn’t tell him anything!” 

His mother gave a little harumph. “Still, he could’ve taken precautions. I may be old but I’ve seen how crazy fans can be online these days."

“That’s not his fault!” Dokja defended, feeling miffed on Joonghyuk’s behalf. 

She crossed her arms. “Well, hopefully you two took precautions in other ways.” 

This time, he actually choked. “Mom!” 

She let out a laugh, full-bellied and radiant. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard that sound. He also realized that it was possibly the first time he had called her that while sitting face-to-face in… an immeasurably long time. 

This was so strange. Sitting across from her like this, her teasing and laughing and him protesting and bickering. Somehow in the midst of their conversation, the dead weight that had been pressing down within him all day had somewhat lessened. In its place, a new feeling bloomed in Dokja’s stomach, something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but it felt akin to a release. 

He set down his chopsticks. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, more clearly than the first.

“I already told you, I’ll be fine,” she tilted her head. 

“No, I’m sorry because,” Dokja’s fingers fiddled beneath the table. “I haven’t been answering your texts. I had told you I would try to be better about that, and I haven’t been. 

She knitted her hands together, and rested her chin atop them. Her face softened. 

“I understand why you don’t.” 

“But, still.” 

He didn’t finish his sentence, but he had a feeling she knew what wasn’t said. But still, I’m a bad son. Everything you’ve done was for me, and yet I still can barely face you. I’m an adult now, not a naive, fragile child and yet… and yet I still can’t even respond to a simple message. I still haven’t moved on. 

She was quiet for a moment before gesturing to the shelf behind him. His gaze followed her hand. 

“Did you see Life in a Fallen World on the shelf?” 

He nodded. Those tattered, silver bound spines were almost the first thing he’d noticed. 

“Do you remember us reading them together when you were young?” 

“Of course.” 

“I only have volumes one through three.” 

Now that Dokja looked closer, he could see that it was true. There were only three on the shelf, when he knew that there had been a total of four books in the series. He knew that because he had the last one, sitting by itself on his shelf at home. He’d bought that volume by himself since it had come out after she’d been put away. 

“You know how I feel about incomplete collections,” she commented. 

He cracked a smile at this. Yes, his mother was a bit of an organizational freak, not so dissimilar from a certain annoying bastard he knew. Anyone could tell from the immaculately kept house, but her shelves were where it was most apparent. It was alphabetically arranged, perfectly dust-free, and all the seried novelizations were lined up tightly together, not a single volume missing. None, except for the fourth book of Life in a Fallen World. 

“I never could bring myself to buy it,” Sookyung continued. “Sometimes it’s easier for me to pretend as if that time I was away never existed. As if nothing ever happened in those years.” 

Her ash eyes, so familiar, shifted back to him. 

“But they did and I’m sure it’s not so easy for you to forget. While I was in limbo, life was happening for you. Happening to you.” 

He met her gaze. There was no trace of grudge on her face. He wondered if he looked the same. 

Dokja chewed on his lip and looked at the shelf again. “I have the fourth one, you know.” 

“Really?” Her face lit up, looking fifteen years younger again. “How does it end?” 

“I thought you hated spoilers.” It was his turn to raise his brows in amusement.

“It came out over a decade ago, I think that train’s left the station,” she snorted. 

His mouth turned up, and looked back down at the home cooked food before him. “It was a happy ending.” 

-

The weeks passed and as much as Dokja was enjoying not needing to rely on convenience store kimbap as his main form of sustenance, he was getting a bit stir crazy at home. 

“If you stare at your phone any harder, I’m afraid it might burn up.” 

He looked up from the web novel he’d been trying to distract himself with, at his mom who was standing at the doorway in her gardening clothes. 

“Why don’t you come help me with the cabbages? It’s not good to look at a screen for so long.” 

Dokja pulled himself up and sulkily followed her out, feeling ridiculously like a scolded ten-year-old again. 

Her vegetable garden was impressive. As usual, Lee Sookyung never did anything halfway. There was an incredible variety of produce in various stages of growth throughout the yard, all neatly organized by type. The cabbages were full and large, leaves teeming and ready for harvest. 

The two worked in tandem to dig them out, systematically moving down the row. 

“As nice as it is to have my son’s company these days,” his mother started conversationally, “shouldn’t your work be expecting you back soon?” 

Dokja winced internally. 

“Actually,” he mumbled, “I was thinking of switching to a smaller, local paper. Maybe something around here.” 

She stopped her digging and looked up at him as if he’d sprouted wings. Then she let out a loud laugh. 

“Here? Dokja-yah, the most interesting thing to have happened in this town in the last five years was when Farmer Min’s cat had a litter of kittens with Farmer Jeong’s tabby. Those two are bitter rivals so it was a really big drama.” 

“That sounds like a serious exposé waiting to be written,” he joked weakly. 

Okay, so reporting on missing cows or whatever else was considered breaking news in this little town didn’t sound super ideal to him. And maybe, he was missing Eden, his desk with all the fragments of stories he’d collected over the years, and even his crazy editor. 

In the last few days, he’d woken up with his hands twitching to write. It was funny, he’d been so desperately looking forward to having some vacation but now that he was actually without work, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He’d caught up to every web novel he’d been following and even finished two new ones. But even those weren’t capturing his attention as they usually did. 

But he couldn’t return. Not when Bihyung and all the other staff would never look at him the same way again. He would forevermore become the guy whose mom killed his dad. 

With a sigh, Sookyoung put down her trowel. 

“You know, there are a lot of things that aren’t in our control in this world,” she said, taking her gloves off to give her hands a wipe. 

“Including the past. And I know that you and I aren’t the kind of people who have been blessed with the liberty of being able to frivolously disregard that.”

Dokja picked up her abandoned shovel and continued to poke into the dirt. There were still six more cabbages to be harvested.

“But still, there are some choices we can make for ourselves. And even we deserve the chance of making choices that make us happy.” 

Her hand reached over to still his digging. 

“Dokja?” 

He looked up at her and he didn’t know when it had started, but his eyes were burning. 

“I don’t know if I can.” 

“Of course you can,” she said gently. 

“I don’t know how to face them,” his voice crackled in a way that he hated. 

“Who?” 

“Everyone,” he breathed out. “My peers, my friends, my–” 

At this, he cut himself short. He didn’t know what he was about to say next. 

Sookyoung gave him a thoughtful smile. “People can sometimes surprise you if you give them the chance. I mean – look at me.” She gestured around her. 

Dokja looked around, as if the cucumbers and peppers climbing up trellises nearby were supposed to give him answers. “What do you mean?” 

“Remember how Mr. Son came to pick up a basket of tomatoes from me?” 

He nodded. That was the taxi driver who’d dropped him off the first night. Turned out, he regularly came by for fresh greens from Sookyung’s garden. He had tried to pay, but she’d refused vehemently. The two of them had ended up chatting for two hours in her yard, and Dokja had to remind her that the bossam on the stove was going to overcook.

“Remember when we went to town and Farmer Min’s wife had insisted on giving us a bushel of tangerines just because?” 

He nodded again, still confused. There was still an absurdly large pile of the citrus fruits sitting in their kitchen at the moment. And it was another instance where Dokja had ended up wandering around the town by himself for an hour because the two women had wanted to catch up. 

“I know I told you that news doesn’t reach this town, but that’s not entirely true,” she shrugged. 

Dokja’s mind was slow to catch on. “Are you saying that… they all know about your history?” he asked after a moment. 

“The internet still exists here after all,” she grinned. “And when you live somewhere long enough and get close enough to people, things naturally come out.” 

In all the interactions he’d seen between his mother and the other locals, they’d been perfectly warm and familiar. Normal. 

“What I’m trying to say is that there will always be people who talk about you and all the things you can’t control. But there will also be people who are willing to know you for who you are. Who will accept you even, and they won’t care about the irrelevant things.” 

His mom took the trowel from him and began to harvest the leafy plants again. She was much more efficient at it than he was.

“You’re welcome here for as long as you’d like,” she told him. “But I have a feeling my son has bigger things to do than sit around all day and half-heartedly dig up cabbages for his old mother.” 

“I’m doing my best,” he protested.

“It’s okay,” Sookyung laughed. “You’ll get better with time.” 

“Also, you’re not that old.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Back to work, you charmer.”

Chapter Text

Yoo Joonghyuk was not in a good mood. And everyone at Nebula knew it. 

“Um, master?” Lee Jihye tentatively tilted her head up at him in the middle of their class, speaking in an uncharacteristically careful tone. 

He made a noise of acknowledgement, somewhere between a grunt and a hum, all while flipping forcefully through his training notes.

“You’ve made us do the same practice run five times a day for the past two weeks…” she broached. “I think we’ve all gotten the hang of it now.”  

He glanced up at her with a frown. 

“Not saying there’s anything wrong with that!” the teenager quickly continued with a nervous laugh. “There can never be too much practice!” 

The rest of the class, less bold than Jihye, all had their eyes subtly averted. But clearly their ears were perked up, anxiously anticipating to hear what his response was going to be. 

Joonghyuk thought for a moment. “Very well, you’re all dismissed for today. I have a meeting I need to attend shortly anyway.” 

A collective sigh of relief resounded from the trainees. They hastily packed up their things and gave Yoo Joonghyuk quick bows before making their escape. His usually overeager pupil was the only one who lingered. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Kim Namwoon loitering outside in the hallway, waiting for her to come out. 

“Master,” Jihye started again with hesitation, shifting from foot to foot. 

Yoo Joonghyuk was busy collecting his notes and replied without looking up. “What is it?” 

“Well, I noticed that, maybe, and I could be wrong, but maybe–” 

“Get to the point, Jihye.” 

Her lips pursed with resolution and she quickly blurted, “I noticed that you’ve been a bit upset recently, and I was wondering if it was because of that journalist ahjussi?” 

At this, Yoo Joongyhuk straightened up and met her gaze with ice. To her credit, she didn’t flinch. 

“Kim Dokja has done nothing wrong.” 

Her eyes widened. “N–no! I’m not saying he did. Actually…” she paused, her expression turning steely.

“Actually, I wanted to tell you that I don’t care what garbage the media’s been spewing recently. I know they say all sorts of dumb things all the time and half the time the stuff isn’t even true… and even if it is, it’s not like it matters what others say anyway!”

She took a deep breath and pounded a fist to her chest. “The point is, I want master to know that you and ahjussi have my full support and you can count on me to defend both of you!” 

Yoo Joonghyuk blinked. That was not what he was expecting. He wasn’t sure how to respond. 

In the silence that followed, Jihye began to look sheepish. “Uh, so that’s all I wanted to say. I hope you feel better soon!” 

With that, she ran out the room, Namwoon pulling her aside the moment she stepped outside. The two whispered conspiratorially to each other while sneaking glances back at Yoo Joonghyuk, before disappearing around a corner. 

The prying looks, the hushed words spoken behind closed doors – they’d been happening frequently around him in the recent weeks. Yoo Joonghyuk paid them no mind. They ranged from curious worry like from Jihye, to more malicious speculation, but it all made no difference to him. It didn’t impact him in the slightest, and well, the one person that he was concerned about it impacting was luckily no longer around to see or hear any of it.  

Yoo Joonghyuk finished putting away his things and reluctantly made his way to the main conference room. He had a feeling he knew what they’d be going over, and he certainly wasn’t looking forward to it but there was no point in delaying. 

“Take a seat, Joonghyuk,” Baram curtly instructed him as soon as he entered the doors. 

Most of the other senior managers and executives were already present, all following him with scrutinizing eyes as he sat down at the end of the long table. Yoo Joonghyuk’s jaw clenched.

He sat in silence as the others around him made small talk. After a few minutes, Baram made a motion for everyone to quiet down. 

“I think we all have an idea what today’s meeting is about,” his manager started, shuffling the papers in front of him. “So let’s not dawdle and get started - Dokgak?” 

The public relations manager looked up from where he’d been typing away on his slim laptop and adjusted his glasses. “Trending keywords on Naver connecting Yoo Joonghyuk to Kim Dokja have decreased by 57% this week. This is due to most of the attention having shifted to the background of Kim Dokja and his mother. Our public statement following the photo leak incident seemed to prove effective as most netizens have accepted that Yoo Joonghyuk and Kim Dokja had a strictly temporary working relationship for the purpose of the article. There are still fans who question whether the photo was misleading or not, but no doubt if we move forward with promotional activities as usual it will quickly peter out. Currently, the social campaign–” 

Yoo Joonghyuk leaned forward. “Has there been any progress on what I requested to dissuade the press from pursuing Kim Dokja and his mother?”

Baram threw him a disapproving look for the interruption. “Our priority right now is you, not the journalist. Dokgak, please continue.” 

The other manager nodded and peered at his screen again. “As I was saying, all our current social campaigns are doing well. There was especially a lot of positive reception to yesterday’s announcement for the summer tournament.” 

Paul, the marketing executive, crossed his arms and cleared his throat to speak. “That’s all well but the fact is that Yoo Joonghyuk has dropped eight ranks in brand value within the last two weeks and two companies have pulled out of sponsorship. Lotte is currently threatening us as their contract clearly outlined that they would not tolerate any risk from their brand ambassadors’ personal lives.” 

“We’re aware,” Baram quickly cut in. “But this can be amended. Yoo Joonghyuk is primed to appear at four launch parties in the next month, two being Samsung and Givenchy. All are high profile and will generate buzz – we have a plan in place to ensure that we’ll take full opportunity to revitalize his image. Not to mention, we’ve just signed a new brand deal with an up and coming lifestyle brand and Joonghyuk will be their face for next season’s line. This will most certainly appeal well to the main age range of his audience.” 

Paul kneaded the bridge of his nose with a deep frown. “It’s not his audience we need to be concerned about. It’s the decision makers of these brands. We need to double our publicity and advertising work effort. This isn’t just any old dating scandal – but rumours about his sexuality . Honestly it’s just–”

Yoo Joonghyuk’s palm slammed onto the table. Everyone in the room jumped and turned to stare at him. 

“Yoo Joonghyuk, what in the–”

“I will not be doing any promotion for the sake of the opinions of irrelevant individuals.” 

“You cocky little–” Paul spat out, his face turning beet red. “You think you have any say in this? When you’re the one who got us in this mess in the first place? You could’ve messed around with anyone but it had to be someone like that, and in public too.” 

Joonghyuk could feel his expression darken dangerously. The executives around the table instinctively shrank back, apprehensive. 

“Joonghyuk, you know you’re free to do whatever you like in your personal life, but not if it impacts your work,” Baram jumped in, trying to play referee. “Luckily, the statement was put out smoothly and now we need to move to the necessary next step, which is public image repair.” 

“I only allowed you to release that statement because I had wrongly believed it would reduce the scrutiny on Kim Dokja,” he gritted out. “The rest doesn’t matter to me.” 

“Your image is the only thing that matters.” His manager breathed out from his nose, frustrated. “You’re lucky we were able to salvage it this quickly.” 

Dokgak nodded. “If Baram hadn’t provided the tip to our media contacts about Dokja and his history, the spotlight would’ve firmly stayed on you.” 

The room went deathly silent, as if all the air had been sucked out from it. Baram’s face turned sheet white.

Yoo Joonghyuk slowly stood up, every muscle in his body coiling in tension. “What?” 

Dokgak startled, eyes darting between the gamer and his manager. “Wait, Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t know?” 

Something red hot and fiery caught fire inside Yoo Joonghyuk. It burned, rising up and roiling like a stormy sea. Bile came up along with it. 

“What did you do?” His voice was low, nearly shaking. It sounded foreign, even to him.

“When a two-faced journalist writes an article like that about us, you think we aren’t going to do some digging on him in return?” sneered Paul, oblivious to his fury. “And you’re fortunate we did. That little snot hid his secrets well, but nothing escapes our watch.” 

Baram still looked as pale as a ghost, his eyes on Yoo Joonghyuk.

“I know it wasn’t ideal but it was the best way to get the attention off you at the time,” he explained, voice tight. “And that’s my job, Joonghyuk. To ensure that no matter what, you come out unscathed.” 

The public relations manager realized that he’d made a grave mistake and tried to chime in to patch things up. “And it worked! Nothing is more scandalous and attention-grabbing than murder, not even gay dating rumours,” Dokgak squeaked.

The suits around the room all began to murmur in agreement, exchanging nods with each other. 

“Exactly. Now we just have to do our part and sign some more–”

“No.” 

All eyes turned to him again. 

“What do you mean, no?” Paul raised a brow. 

Yoo Joonghyuk clamped down his fists. He had to leave this room this instant. No, he had to leave this building. He was milliseconds away from pounding in the face of every single sickening, smug face in this room and while they would certainly deserve it, it would do nobody good. It wouldn’t reverse the harm that had already been done to Kim Dokja. 

“I’m finished,” he growled, ripping off his badge and tossing it across the table. 

He swept out of the room in large strides, ignoring the shouts of protest behind him. There was nothing more worth listening to. 

Yoo Joonghyuk knew he had made mistakes, but the lifted weight from his chest told him that walking away was not one of them. As for the rest, there was only one person he could go to that could help him fix it all. 

-

“Yoo Joonghyuk, to what do I owe this displeasure?” 

He stared down at the pair of dark eyes, mocking and sparkling in amusement. A scowl formed on his face. 

“I got your address from Jung Heewon.” 

“Uh huh.” Those eyes rolled. “That doesn’t answer my question, you moron.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk ground his teeth. He truly had never met anyone as infuriating as this woman. 

“I need… your help.” 

She burst into laughter, slapping her knee. “Oh, the Supreme King needs my help, does he?” 

“Han Sooyoung,” he snarled. 

“God, okay, calm down,” Sooyoung stepped aside, indicating for him to come inside, still snickering. 

“Will you help or not?” He entered her lavish apartment. It was much too gaudy for his taste, and incredibly messy.

“I’ll consider it, but only because every time I call that stupid fool, he looks like someone’s ran over his puppy,” she snorted, plopping down onto an overly plush, white sofa. 

Sooyoung cocked an eyebrow at him. “I’m assuming you’re asking for help with that guy.” 

At the mention of Kim Dokja, Yoo Joonghyuk stilled, his face turning uncertain. “How is he?” 

“Not good,” she stated, ripping open a lemon lollipop from a bowl on her coffee table. “He’s got it into his thick skull that he’s going to live a life of a hermit from now on. Not that I blame him, with how vicious the news outlets are.” 

“Hyunsung and Heewon say that he hasn’t been returning their texts or calls,” Joonghyuk supplied. “They’re… worried.”

“Oh, they’re worried?” Sooyoung threw him a sarcastic look.

He cracked his knuckles, frustrated. Not wanting to waste time, he asked pointedly, “Will you tell me where I can find him?” 

She assessed him up and down. “You could’ve asked him not to leave in the first place, but now you want to see him again?” 

Yoo Joonghyuk glanced away, and fixed his stare at her disordered workstation across the room. Haphazard piles of script and half-scribbled notes littered the desk surface.

“I didn’t feel I had the right to ask for that at the time.” 

“And what’s changed?” 

He turned back to glare at her. “Will you help me or not?” he repeated. 

“Sure I could,” she leaned forward. “But you’ll have to tell me first what your plan is.” 

“I just want to talk to him in person.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Yoo Joonghyuk, if it weren’t for the fact that you are the biggest streamer in the country with millions of rabid fans, none of this would have happened,” the writer asserted, her tone turning uncharacteristically cold and sombre. “You brought this level of scrutiny to Dokja’s life. So tell me – you want to talk to him. And then what? ” 

He flinched. Anger rose in his chest at her accusation, but there was nothing he could say back. Not when it was the complete truth. Especially when he had just found out how and why Dokja’s family history had been revealed in the first place to the media. 

“That idiot, for reasons I cannot for the life of me fathom, has real feelings for you.” She pulled a face. The words made Yoo Joonghyuk’s heart clench, his breath lodging in his throat. 

“So,” she continued, giving him a narrowed look. “If you’re going to go there in person and talk to him, you better have something to offer. Because while he might be dumbest twit around, he is my best friend, and I–” 

Han Sooyoung’s voice caught. She squeezed her eyes shut and went quiet for a moment. 

“That man, despite having worms for brains, deserves to be happy,” she finished fiercely, her eyes opening to burn into his. “So either you better be prepared to make that happen, or just leave him alone and let him live his life.” 

Silence fell between them, her words of ultimatum sinking into Yoo Joonghyuk. He released the tension in his jaw and hands, straightening up.

He met her gaze levelly. “I am prepared.” 

Han Sooyoung examined him with the eyes of a hawk, appraising. She searched his face as she considered his promise. Then slowly, slowly a smile formed on her lips, sharp and devious. 

“Alright, let’s do this then.” 

Chapter Text

Kim Dokja half-heartedly scrolled through the job boards on his computer. His mother was right – while he did prefer smaller publications, maybe not this small. But, beggars couldn’t be choosers. It was starting to feel a bit undignified, even for him, to be 28, living with his mother again, and unemployed on top of it all. 

Sookyung had continued to not so subtly hint to him that he should think about returning to Seoul. And it wasn’t as if he didn’t think about it. He missed his life. 

But his face had been plastered on tv and across social media, there was no chance that any of his neighbours didn’t know about it. He likely wouldn’t even be able to comfortably walk the streets without somebody recognizing him. As much as his mother had tried to persuade him that maybe his friends wouldn’t change how they saw him, not that he really thought that was possible, there was still the fact that he would forevermore be subject to the whispers of strangers around him. Gone was his anonymity in the world. And in a city as bustling as Seoul, anonymity was the only shield he’d had. 

He sighed and continued to scroll. Anyhow, it was too late to turn back. As he wasn’t sure when he would be able to return to the city, he’d asked Sooyoung to pack up the rest of his things in his apartment and mail it to him. 

He did feel a bit remorseful about leaving her behind so abruptly – this was the longest in almost a decade they’d gone without seeing each other, with the exception of his military service. But, she was also the only person who knew where his mother lived. They would be able to make plans to see each other again at some point.

His eyes caught on a listing. 

JOB OPENING: Namwon Daily - Part-time Contributor 

Dokja clicked into it and immediately winced at the advertised per piece rate. At this point, even if he did land one of these gigs, he was going to have to start looking for odd jobs around town to supplement his income. That idea was depressing since, as his mother had so kindly pointed out, his feeble, salaryman physique built on a well-rounded diet of kimbap and instant ramen was not exactly what country folk around here were looking for when it came to hiring help. 

Still, this was better than nothing – he moved his cursor to click the application button. 

“Dokja?” His mom called out from the kitchen. 

“Hm?” he hummed absentmindedly, beginning to fill in all his personal details.

“Could you go get some green onions from the yard?”

“Sure.” 

He paused on the online form and pushed himself up to head towards the door. Over the past month, Sookyung and him had fallen into a, well, he would almost call it comfortable, rhythm. While they both knew this couldn’t be a permanent situation, there was a quiet contentment to helping his mother around the house and going into town to run errands for her. Sookyung herself had also adjusted to having an extra helping hand around the place. This was the longest the pair had spent together in a decade and a half, and while Dokja didn’t have any notion that they would ever have a regular, carefree mother and son relationship – it was something. They were both learning again how to be family. 

Distracted in contemplation, he absentmindedly slipped his shoes on and threw the front door open. 

“Ah!”

Dokja yelped as he ran into a wall. Wincing, he rubbed his face and squinted up. For a moment, the face of the stranger, who’d been so rudely standing right in front of their doorway, was obscured by the bright early noon sunlight.

“Who are–” 

His vision cleared, and the rest of his question broke apart in his throat. Dark, radiant eyes met his. Oh so familiar. 

“Y–Yoo Joonghyuk?” 

Dokja blinked several times, uncertain that he wasn’t hallucinating. But no, it was clearly Yoo Joonghyuk standing there, tall and intimidatingly handsome as always in his customary black overcoat, in the middle of his mother’s vegetable garden. If he weren’t so startled, Dokja might’ve even chuckled at the absurd sight. 

“Kim Dokja.” 

His voice was as he remembered. And he was now realizing, after not having heard it in so many weeks, that never had his name ever sounded so bewitching until it had fallen from Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips. 

“I…” Dokja fumbled, completely at a loss at this unexpected appearance. “How long have you been standing there?” 

Joonghyuk’s brows furrowed and Dokja’s fingers twitched involuntarily at the desire to smooth them. “Not… that long.” 

His tone wasn’t convincing and Dokja couldn’t help but instinctively huff in amusement. But he quickly fell silent as he met the other’s gaze again, fixed so intently on him. His cheeks prickled. 

“So… ah, what are you doing here?” Dokja clasped his hands together to keep them from fidgeting. 

At the question, Yoo Joonghyuk’s face turned away slightly. 

“I hope I’m not intruding,” he replied quietly. “I’ve come to bring you your things.” 

Dokja looked down, now noticing the large storage box that sat at the man’s feet. On the lid, scrawled in Han Sooyoung’s unmistakable writing, read “stupid idiot’s stuff”.

A million questions raced through his mind, leaving him dizzy with confusion. Hadn’t he told Sooyoung to mail his things? Why would she give Yoo Joonghyuk of all people his mother’s address? And, perhaps most trivial, it was a weekday so why wasn’t Yoo Joonghyuk at work? 

But all that came from his mouth was, “You came all the way from Seoul to deliver my things?” 

Yoo Joonghyuk bent down and hoisted the box up with ease before answering. “Han Sooyoung said that the delivery was too expensive.” 

Dokja blinked. He knew that was clearly a lie, Sooyoung had enough money to blow on whatever she wished. Yoo Joonghyuk wouldn’t fall for something like that either. 

“Oh, okay.” 

They stood there not speaking for a moment. 

“Can I put it down inside?” Joonghyuk raised an eyebrow. 

Dokja startled. “Oh, um, yes, of course.” He hurriedly got out of the way to let him in. Yoo Joonghyuk ducked slightly into the low doorway. 

“Where’s your room? I’ll put it in there.” 

Dokja rubbed the back of his head. “I’ve just been sleeping in the living room. You can put it anywhere.” 

Joonghyuk frowned at his words but stayed silent. He padded down the short hallway, with Dokja quickly scurrying after him. In the main room, he placed the box down in the corner, out of the way. 

If Dokja thought he had looked ridiculous outside, it was even more pronounced indoors. Sookyung’s house was what one might describe as “cozy” but he always felt it was the perfect size for her since she lived alone. It did sometimes feel small now that he was staying there as well, but he never minded sleeping in a futon on the ground, it was something he was used to doing since he was young. 

But now with Yoo Joonghyuk standing in the middle of it all, suddenly Dokja realized just how tiny the home really was. If the other stood on tippy toes, his head would likely brush the ceiling. 

Yoo Joonghyuk turned to him, face unreadable. 

“Thanks for bringing it all this way, you didn’t have to,” Dokja said the only thing he could think of. 

“There’s no need to thank me.” Yoo Joonghyuk replied sharply, as if his gratitude upset him. But before Dokja could wonder after why that was, his mother appeared from the kitchen. 

“Dokja, did– oh!” she exclaimed.

Joonghyuk gave a brief lowering of his head. “You must be Kim Dokja’s mother. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“And you’re Yoo Joonghyuk,” Sookyung upturned her face to meet his eyes, saying it not as a question but rather a statement. 

“Yes,” he nodded, giving Dokja a quick sideways look as if surprised she knew him. Dokja felt his face grow red, hoping that the bastard wasn’t getting any funny ideas. The reason she recognized him was only because their faces had been plastered all over the news – he certainly hadn’t been mooning about him to his mother like some lovesick fool. (Much.)

“I apologize for my abrupt visit,” he stuck out his hand to shake hers. Sookyung returned the gesture. 

Dokja’s mouth gaped open. Yoo Joonghyuk was pulling out manners that he never thought the guy was even capable of. 

His mom looked bemused. “It’s quite alright. We’re not big on formalities out here in the countryside, there’s no need for any of those pretenses.” 

“I’m grateful for the generosity then, and I’ll keep that in mind,” Yoo Joonghyuk bent his head down again in acknowledgement. 

“Will you be staying long?”

He glanced briefly at Dokja standing to the side, who was currently watching dumbfounded this encounter between two people he never imagined interacting.

“I’m not sure,” Yoo Joonghyuk responded.

Sookyoung’s lips pulled up. “Well, it’s a long way from Seoul so you should stay for dinner tonight at least.” 

She faced her son, putting a hand on her hip. “Did you get the green onions I asked?” 

Dokja turned sheepish. “No.”

“What are you waiting for then?” 

His gaze flicked between them, apprehensive. It would be okay to leave these two alone for just a minute, right? Why did this feel so daunting? 

“Alright… I’ll be right back.” He gave them both one last look, unsure which one he should be more worried about in his absence. Probably Yoo Joonghyuk. 

Dokja dashed back out into the yard, making a beeline for the pot of thin, green stalks. As he snipped a few, his mind raced, trying to make sense of the fact that Yoo Joonghyuk was really here, standing in the living room, talking to his mother. He still couldn’t understand why the man had come all this way in the first place, just to drop off a box of his junk. 

He finished collecting the herbs and hurried back in, nervously wondering what sort of conversation he would be returning to. 

Surprisingly, it was quiet when he entered – the two were still standing where he’d left them. Yoo Joonghyuk still looked impassive as usual, but his mother was sporting a rather large grin. Dokja slowed down as he approached, and handed the green onion stalks to Sookyung. 

“Thank you, son.” She took them from him with a light-hearted hum. 

Dokja looked at the pair again, suspicious. “What were you guys talking about?” 

His mom gave a little wave of her hand. “Not much, Yoo Joonghyuk was just telling me that he wanted to do some sightseeing while he was in town.” 

“Sightseeing?” Dokja echoed, incredulous. There was nothing to see in the surrounding 50 kilometres other than rice fields and tangerine trees.  

She nodded. “Since he’s come all this way, why don’t you show him around?” 

“Um–” 

“As long as you don’t mind me borrowing him for the day,” Yoo Joonghyuk cut in. 

The smirk on her face grew. “My son’s not much use to me around the house anyway, so that’s not a problem at all.”

“Hey!” Dokja protested. 

“I’ll have him back by the evening,” Joonghyuk ignored him.

“Sounds good, dinner will be ready by then!” 

Dokja’s eyes darted between them, completely baffled by the turn of events. “Hey, doesn’t my opinion count for anything here?” 

Yoo Joonghyuk looked away. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

Dokja narrowed his eyes at the other man, his forever stony expression giving nothing away. His stupid heart gave a small, involuntary squeeze at the sight of Joonghyuk’s striking profile, caught perfectly in the light, and he cursed his own weak resolve. As if he had ever been able to say no to him. 

“No, I’ll come,” he muttered.

-

After a quick goodbye to his mother, Dokja found himself shuffling out the door behind Yoo Joonghyuk. In the silence between them, he felt as if he was on unsteady ground, unsure where to step. 

“Get in," Joonghyuk instructed once they'd passed the fence. 

“You drove all the way here?” Dokja stopped at the sight of the familiar car, taken aback. 

“It would’ve been too much of a hassle to take the train with all the stuff.” 

A fresh wave of guilt came over him. He opened his mouth to apologize. 

“Don’t fill your head with useless thoughts, Kim Dokja,” Joonghyuk cut him off with a glare. “Now, hurry up.” 

With a huff at his sharp tone, Dokja followed him into the vehicle. “You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“I know it was going to be something useless.” 

Dokja crossed his arms petulantly, guilt forgotten. “Are you at least going to tell me what we’re doing? Because if you were serious about ‘sightseeing’, the only thing there is to look at around here are the ahjussis in the village square playing chess.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk turned to face him and leaned forward slightly, catching him off guard. His breath caught and he reflexively inched back, only to hit the closed door behind him. He had forgotten how very distracting it was to be with this man in close quarters like this. 

“Well?” Dokja raised his eyebrows and feigned nonchalance, trying to slow his racing heart. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked casually. Dokja scrunched his brows, taken aback. 

“I suppose…” he slowly answered. “I haven’t had lunch yet.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk nodded and, to Dokja’s relief, sat back into his seat again to start the car. “Let’s go eat then.” 

“There aren’t many restaurants around here though.”

“We’re not going to a restaurant.” 

“Huh? Then what are we doing?” Dokja was feeling more befuddled than ever. 

“Kim Dokja.”

“Yes? Are you going to give me an answer or are you just going to stay all mysterious?,” he griped. With his confusion mounting, along with the overwhelming too muchness of it all from seeing Yoo Joonghyuk again so suddenly, being in this car with him again, he couldn’t stop irritation from slipping into his tone. 

Who did this bastard think he was, coming all the way to his mother’s home of all places and acting so cryptically? He’d been doing so well to try his best and forget what had happened between them, he’d even stopped staring forlornly at their old messages all day – okay, fine maybe he still looked at them right before bed, but still. He didn’t want to be reminded like this of how he felt when he saw those eyes and–

“Didn’t I say I would take you on a date?” Yoo Joonghyuk glanced over. 

Dokja’s brain screeched to a halt. “What?” 

“You forgot?” 

“N-no, but,” he stammered, a flush growing across his cheeks. 

He was quiet for a moment before saying, “I mean… I didn’t think that it was still happening.” 

“I don’t go back on my word.” 

But that was before everything changed, Dokja wanted to say. Before you knew who I really was. But somehow, he couldn’t manage those words out. He watched in silence as Yoo Joonghyuk navigated the sparse roads of the town with ease, as if he’d mapped it out beforehand. Turning the other man’s response over in his head, he wondered what it meant – was this all out of some sense of pitiful duty?

“Have you changed your mind about it?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked quietly after some minutes had passed. 

Dokja took a moment to understand the meaning of his question. 

He flicked his eyes over, tracing the lines of Yoo Joonghyuk as the latter stayed focused on the road. A face that he’d always thought looked like it was carved under a master sculptor’s chisel, unflinching and absolute akin to the finest marble. But at this moment, it was wearing a rare, open expression.

Anxious? Upset? 

No. 

Vulnerable. 

Dokja was astonished to recognize it – and he realized that his wondering whether Yoo Joonghyuk had come here out of obligation or sympathy was laughably off the mark. No, the other man was feeling just as uncertain as he was. Feeling just as much as he was. But even as Dokja could recognize what Yoo Joonghyuk was feeling, he still couldn’t comprehend why.

“No, I haven’t,” he replied finally, voice small. The taller man’s face relaxed, almost imperceptible, but Dokja was more than accustomed to reading his micro expressions now. 

A few more minutes passed with Dokja wordlessly watching as Joonghyuk drove them to who knows where. While there were a great number of things he couldn’t wrap his head around at the moment, one particular question seemed most pressing. 

“But are you sure you should be here?” Dokja broke the lull, unable to keep it in. “You know, considering your job?” 

Yoo Joonghyuk’s expression grew stormy. “That isn’t something you need to worry about.” 

Dokja had seen the public statement that Nebula had made. He’d seen the way his fans had, for the most part, corralled around him in support as the weeks went by, and how the media circus had mostly left the rumours around their relationship behind in favour of digging up facts about Kim Dokja and his disgraced mother. And despite the initial hurt of seeing that statement, the one thing he’d taken the slightest solace in since the reveal was that at the very least, Yoo Joonghyuk would be able to come out on the other side unsullied. But here he was putting it all at risk again – how could it not be something to worry about?

But Joonghyuk’s eyes looked so grim and angry right now that Dokja decided not to push it further. 

“Well, it does seem like you’re taking me out to the middle of nowhere so I suppose there isn’t too much to worry about,” Dokja said lightly instead, offering a small smile. 

The tension on Yoo Joonghyuk’s face thawed once again at his teasing comment and he returned with one of his own. The kind of soft smile that reached his eyes and made Dokja feel as if he could melt into a puddle. 

“We’re here,” he announced, pulling the car off to the side of the road. Dokja whirled around to look out the window.

At the scene before him, he gave a surprised chuckle. “I was joking about the middle of nowhere thing, but it seems you’ve taken it seriously.” 

Rolling meadows stretched out in front of them. The first spring rains had just passed and the wildflowers were in full bloom, dotting the long grasses in yellows and blues. A stream bubbled nearby, the water running fast and clear. And in the far distance, the sweeping slopes of Jirisan peaked over the horizon. They were at the far edges of town, not a single other soul to be seen. 

“Joonghyuk-ah, did you take a wrong turn?” he teased, turning back to him. “I knew you were trying to be cool and all not using Naver but–”

The other man was twisted around, fetching a large bag from the backseat that Dokja hadn’t noticed until now. 

“Instead of running your mouth, why don’t you be useful and take the blanket?” Yoo Joonghyuk gave him an exasperated look and stepped out of the car. 

Dumbly, Dokja clutched the folded cloth that was thrown at him and hurried after him. He caught up to the other as they neared a grove of cherry trees by the stream. 

“Wow,” he gasped in amazement at the sight of them in full bloom. “I forgot they were in season.”

It was April in the Southern province. A magical, but short-lived period after the last vestiges of winter frost had been chased away by the warm, spring breezes and before the relentless downpours of summer monsoon season began. It was only at this time, in this moment, the pair could stand under such lush, blushing blooms, petals raining down to cling to their clothing in speckles. 

Dokja gazed up, eyes wide with wonder. He reached to pluck a blossom from a low hanging branch and lightly twisted the delicate pink petals between his fingers. 

With a grin, he handed it to Yoo Joonghyuk. “You should put it in your hair,” he quipped.

“Absolutely not,” the taller man replied, but a smile tugged on his lips and he slipped the flower into his pocket.

“Do you like this spot?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked, gesturing to the soft grass below them. 

“Um, yes?... Oh!” Dokja finally connected the dots, holding out the blanket in his hands. 

He burst out into laughter at the realization. “Yoo Joonghyuk-ssi, is this a romantic picnic you’ve planned for us?” 

Despite his pestering tone, Dokja’s heart swelled to a size he didn’t know was possible. It almost felt as if it might even erupt from the overflow of something unnameable. Yoo Joonghyuk looked away, glaring at the ground with the tips of his ears tinged adorably red. 

He gave the grump an affectionate slap on the arm. “I love it,” Dokja promised sincerely. 

He shook out the black and white checkered blanket, and set it down against the grass, patting down the edges. They settled down across from each other, each leaning against the gnarled base of a tree. 

Yoo Joonghyuk began to pull out thermal lunch boxes from the bag he’d brought from the car. “Hopefully they’re still warm,” he commented.

“You cooked?”

Joonghyuk gave a hum of affirmation. 

Dokja eagerly scooted over to peer closely as the other pried open the lids, his stomach now starting to grumble in anticipation. It really had been too long since he’d had Joonghyuk’s cooking, and he couldn’t believe the man had made food and brought it all the way here. He wasn’t sure if he should feel touched, or rather impressed at the guy’s commitment to not eating food that wasn’t his own. 

“What is it?” 

Instead of answering, Yoo Joonghyuk simply lifted the lid to the first container. The heavenly aroma of rich black beans wafted up first, Dokja instinctively inhaling. He blinked, taking in what he was looking down at. Thick, hand-pulled noodles generously piled with meaty, dark sauce.

“Oh,” was all he said, his mouth opening in awe.  

Joonghyuk opened the lid to the second box, and what else could it be but glistening, perfectly fried strips of tangsuyuk ?

Dokja fought desperately, and failed, at the smile that blossomed on his mouth. He bit his lips, he could feel the red that was racing across his cheeks.

It hit him all at once exactly what Yoo Joonghyuk was doing. They weren't at Namhansanseong - but the activity, the food.  

“You remembered.”

“I remember everything about you.” 

Dokja looked away, face getting even hotter than he thought was humanly possible. How could Yoo Joonghyuk say such things with a straight face? How could he say such things to him ?

He buried his face into his hands.

“Yoo Joonghyuk,” he said, his voice coming out muffled. 

“Hm?”

“What is the meaning of this?”

“Dokja, I’m not having a repeat of this conversation,” Joonghyuk responded wryly. 

Dokja snapped his face back up. 

“Aren’t you horrified?” he blurted out the question that had been festering within him since the day everything fell apart. “Aren’t you disgusted?” 

“Aren’t you…” his voice petered out to a whisper, “afraid of me?” 

He could feel himself shaking, his hands, his eyes, his very heart. 

As if mirroring him, Yoo Joonghyuk’s shoulders also began to shake. Except, for some baffling reason, a smile spread across the man’s lips and his eyes curved up in mirth. Dokja’s mouth dropped open in sheer bewilderment. 

“What’s so funny?” he asked, chagrined. 

Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand came up to brush a strand of his hair back, his mouth still upturned fondly. “Are you supposed to be scary to me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Dokja spluttered. “Th- this isn’t a joke, you bastard!” 

The other man’s face turned solemn, but his hand stayed where it was, continuing to comb through his hair lightly as if trying to soothe him. 

“I know it isn’t,” murmured Yoo Joonghyuk. “But these words you’ve used to describe yourself are so distant from what I feel about you that they’re not even in the realm of my imagination.” 

Dokja flushed again, breath hitching, afraid to decipher what that meant. 

“Aren’t you worried about your career?” he asked instead, eyes darting away. Instantly, he winced, wondering if the question was going to anger the gamer as it had earlier. 

But this time Yoo Joonghyuk simply pulled his hand back to lean against the tree again, giving a quiet sigh.

“I’ve quit.” 

Dokja’s head whipped in his direction, shock crackling through him. “What?!” 

“I grew tired of it,” Joonghyuk gave a small shrug, as if he was speaking of the weather. 

However, his expression shuttered for the next words: “I realized that Nebula isn’t the kind of place I want to be at anyway.” 

“But…” Dokja trailed off, shame painfully twisting in his gut for the second time that day. “I’m so sorry, it’s because I messed it up for you and–” 

“Aren’t you a bit too full of yourself?” Yoo Joonghyuk interrupted, throwing him a teasing look. 

He choked in embarrassment, the guilt momentarily dropping at the bastard’s barb.

“Haven’t you become a bit too cheeky?” Dokja shot back defensively, earning a brilliantly beautiful, low laugh from Joonghyuk. At the enthralling sound, he couldn't help but join in as well. 

Yoo Joonghyuk quieted after a beat, but his expression remained light.

“To be honest, I only signed with Nebula in the first place so that I could earn enough income to secure guardianship over Mia,” he explained. “Now that that’s no longer a concern, I’m happy returning to being independent.” 

Dokja absorbed this, slowly nodding. That made sense – there were so many aspects of being part of the company that Yoo Joonghyuk seemed to detest, he knew that well enough. After all, he’d written an entire article about it. 

But still, he couldn’t help but feel the anxiety and remorse begin to seep in again. “So, you’re sure it wasn’t because of the scandal?” 

The other tilted his head at him. “I won’t say the decision had nothing to do with you, but it wasn’t because of anything you were responsible for.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Yoo Joonghyuk gazed at him for a moment before speaking again. 

“The day you left Seoul,” he started softly, “I never would have let you go if I had the ability to shield you from all the scrutiny.”

Joonghyuk’s eyes fell downwards as he let out a little breath. “But I didn’t. I didn’t have that power. And if it weren’t for me and my job, it all wouldn’t have even happened in the first place.”

“So if the question comes down to whether I would rather stay beholden to a place I want nothing to do with in the first place, or having the possibility of a future with you… well, I think you know my answer to that now.” 

Dokja sat frozen in his spot, speechless. His ever smart mouth, rendered useless at this moment. There was nothing verbal he could utter that could begin to encompass the roaring, all-consuming emotion sweeping through him, dragging him, lifting him, dizzying him with its endless warmth. 

With nothing else to do with his mouth, he leaned over abruptly and pressed a kiss on Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips. He felt the other still in surprise and for a moment, Dokja could only smile in satisfaction that this maddening, vexing, astounding man was just as affected by him as he was him. Serves him right for coming up with the most embarrassing, heart fluttering speeches without any sort of warning. 

But it was only for a moment. In the next, Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands were pulling him in by his waist so that he tumbled into his lap, his tongue licking into his, capturing him with hunger. Dokja sighed into the touch, bringing his own hands up to curl them into his partner’s thick locks. Heat snaked deliciously from the top of his head to the very tip of his toes, and he felt as if he could remain here for eternity, entangled among the blush pink blossoms scattering around them.

After several minutes, Yoo Joonghyuk pulled away first, breath heavy. 

“The food’s going to get cold if you don’t eat it,” he murmured, still close enough that Dokja could feel the warm puffs of air against his skin. 

A sly smile curved up on his lips, and Dokja leaned in to nuzzle at his neck. “There’s other things I’d rather have on my mouth.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk shook his head, letting out a low sound crossed between a laugh and a sigh. He took a hold of his shoulders and pushed him back, just slightly so that they’d be face to face. His hand came up yet again, this time to brush away the tiny, rose-coloured petals that had settled into Dokja’s bangs.  

“We have all the time in the world,” Yoo Joonghyuk breathed, a promise in the air, conviction in his tone, and that boundless, burning starlit glow in his eyes. The emotion in them aflame, once again ripping the very air from Dokja’s chest. 

This time, he didn’t hide away. This time, he grasped it, memorized it, and held it firm. He let it find him and break away the ruins of a damned wall.

He knew what it was now. And he was no longer afraid. 

Love. Blazing, freeing, enduring… love. 

“Yes,” Dokja whispered back, his own ash eyes alight with the same burnished warmth. “We do.” 

They had all the time in the world to write their own story.

Chapter Text

“Augh, my back is sore as hell from that drive,” Han Sooyoung complained loudly as she stomped unceremoniously into the house, stretching out her arms in dramatic fashion over her head. 

Kim Dokja’s head popped out from the kitchen. “You’re here!” 

“Yeah, after three hours of sitting in traffic,” she kicked off her shoes. 

He rolled his eyes. “If you had just taken the train like I suggested, it would’ve taken half that time.” 

“Well I had to drive these two, didn’t I?” She stuck a thumb behind her back.

Right on cue, new voices floated in from outside.  “Oh no, the wrapping ripped on the ride here!” 

“It’s fine babe, it’s just Dokja and Joonghyuk.” 

“But I spent so long on it,” the man mourned. 

Heewon and Hyunsung appeared at the doorway, the former in the middle of giving her boyfriend a soothing pat on his hand. The pair caught sight of Dokja standing in the living room and immediately lit up. 

“Dokja-ssi, it’s so good to see you!” The large man strided over and wrapped him in a bear hug, one hand balancing some sort of large, gift-wrapped package. Dokja returned the embrace, a smile pulling on his mouth. 

As soon as the two parted, Heewon came to give him a firm, almost painful clap on the back. 

“It’s been way too long,” she put her hands on her hips.

He gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry, it’s been a… crazy few months.” 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” she replied, eyes softening. Her lips, however, stayed in a playful smirk. “Anyway, I can’t complain too much. At least you’re answering your phone again.” 

Dokja had been worried when he’d finally responded to her barrage of texts and calls that he’d have to do about two decades worth of explaining, but it had turned out she’d only wanted to know whether he was okay and, more importantly, what in the world was him and Joonghyuk’s relationship status now. 

Deep down, it had been a relief that had nearly brought him to tears. To know that nothing would change between them. 

Dokja returned her smile, bright. 

Heewon gave a little twist to survey the home, giving a low whistle of appreciation. “Nice place.” 

“Right?” He was pleased with her compliment. “It took us two months to find the perfect place.” 

“I saw a bunch of planters outside Dokja,” Hyunsung chimed in, “Is that your garden?” 

He nodded. “I learned a few things while I was staying with my mom so I figured I would try it out here too.” 

“How adorably domestic,” Sooyoung cooed, followed by a cackle. Dokja threw her an obscene gesture that only resulted in more laughter. 

Turning back to Heewon, he asked: “Speaking of new places, how is the new dojo doing? I’m sorry I missed the grand opening.” 

Heewon gave a wave of her hand, grinning. “It’s all good, Yoo Joonghyuk passed along your congratulations. And business is doing pretty good.”

“Not just good – it’s been great! She’s even started planning out a third location already,” Hyunsung added proudly. 

His girlfriend gave him a jab with her elbow, face reddening. “I only said that I was thinking about it! It’s way too early still.” 

Dokja chuckled. “Looks like that kendo empire really is underway.” 

“It really is!” 

“You guys are insufferable,” Heewon rolled her eyes at the boys’ exclamations, but her lips tugged up.

“Is there anything we can do to help with dinner, by the way?” She hastily changed the topic, peeking into the kitchen doorway. 

Sooyoung sniffed the air. “Yeah, I’m starving after that drive.”  

“We’re okay in there, Joonghyuk’s almost finished,” he replied. “Anyway, I’m not even sure he would let you in – he barely lets me help.”

Everyone let out a collective sigh, all very aware how particular the man was with his food. 

“Well, that just means we can start drinking first,” Sooyoung shrugged. 

She looked around. “Oops, I forgot the beers in the–” 

“I’ve got them, Sooyoung-ssi.” 

All four heads in the living room turned to the new, cheerful voice coming from the door. Sleek, chestnut hair shone in the sun as the new arrival bent down to carefully slip out of their boots. They straightened up and lifted their arm to show off the case of maekju.

“Sangah-ssi!” Dokja exclaimed, approaching to greet her. “What good timing, everyone else just got here as well.” 

Yoo Sangah laughed, the sound melodic. “Less good timing Dokja-ssi, and more so that I carpooled along with them. I was just outside taking a call from my editor.”

“Oh, really?” he replied, surprised. 

She nodded. “Sooyoung-ssi was kind enough to offer to drive me as well, once she heard I was coming.” 

Han Sooyoung? Kind? Dokja looked over at his best friend in curiosity. She was conveniently turned away, studying the houseplant he and Yoo Joonghyuk had picked out for their coffee table with way too much interest. He spotted the reddening tips of her ears through her choppy black hair. 

Now that’s interesting, he bit down a smirk. 

He turned back to Sangah. “Well, I’m really glad you were able to make it.” 

She returned with a sincere smile. “Of course. I was really happy when you reached out to invite me to your house warming.”

“The new place looks beautiful, by the way,” she made a gesture around her. “It’s so spacious.” 

“Ah, did you all want a tour?” He realized suddenly that he hadn’t offered yet. 

Sangah, Heewon, and Hyunsung all nodded eagerly. As he led them away, Sooyoung plopped down onto the couch with a beer as she’d already been to the house multiple times to help them move in.

It was fairly quick, as beyond the living and dining space, there were just two bedrooms, bathrooms, and a room that Dokja had claimed as his office/library. As it was fairly open, the home felt large, but actually it was the perfect size for him, Yoo Joonghyuk, and Mia. 

“By the way, we brought you and Joonghyuk this gift for the new place,” Hyunsung eagerly piped as they circled back into the main living area. “The corner of the wrapping paper got a bit ripped up but…” 

Dokja gratefully accepted the package and assured him that the wrapping was still beautiful.

“It’s one of those ergonomic cushion things for your desk chair,” Heewon supplied. “We heard you were going to be working from home a lot now so we figured it would come in handy.” 

He put the gift to the side for opening later with a bright expression. “Thank you, I’ve actually been meaning to get one of those.”

“Is it true that you’ve decided to return to Eden?” Sangah asked, settling down into the seat next to Sooyoung. 

Dokja nodded. “Uriel was nice enough to take me back on as a freelancer.” 

Heewon nudged him. “Hey, don’t sell yourself short. She’s lucky she was able to keep you too!” 

“That’s right, Dokja-ssi,” Yoo Sangah agreed. 

He blushed at their words. “Ah, well, I’m just glad it all worked out. I realize I’m more suited to freelancing anyway - it gives me a lot more flexibility in my schedule.” 

It also meant he no longer had to write up BL fluff pieces or do political news coverage. He could spend his time chasing and unearthing the stories of people, which at the end of the day, was what he truly loved to do. 

"Uriel should actually be arriving soon too,” he continued, glancing down at his watch. 

“You invited your boss?” Sooyoung raised an eyebrow. 

He shrugged. “She’s been so generous and understanding through this whole process I figured it would be nice to have her over. Also, she really wants to meet–” 

A hand slid around his waist, and the rest of Yoo Joonghyuk soon followed, appearing from where he’d been holed up in the kitchen. 

“Dinner is nearly ready,” he announced, giving Dokja a little squeeze. 

Dokja looked up and gave his boyfriend a brilliant smile. “Thanks, Hyuk-ah.” 

Heewon and Hyunsung came to greet him excitedly, while Sooyoung looked an interesting mix of smug and disgusted at their affectionate display. She’d recently taken to teasing Dokja about how he owed her their first born, seeing as without her help they never would’ve gotten together (or so she liked to think). 

As hellos were being exchanged, he noticed Yoo Joonghyuk glancing at Yoo Sangah with a slightly tense expression. 

Ah. 

While he had told Yoo Joonghyuk beforehand that she was coming, it had slipped his mind that this encounter might be an awkward one. 

Dokja cleared his throat. “Joonghyuk-ah, this is Yoo Sangah-ssi. Sangah-ssi, this is Yoo Joonghyuk.”

She lifted off the couch to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you Yoo Joonghyuk-ssi, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Yoo Joonghyuk returned the gesture, making a grunt that passed off as hello.

A beat of silence passed and Dokja's mind raced, wondering how to diffuse this weirdness. 

“Whenever I get the chance to talk to Dokja-ssi these days, he often mentions Joonghyuk-ssi’s cooking, so I’m looking forward to dinner,” Sangah smoothly spoke up first. 

Sooyoung snorted. “Sangah, I think you mean he doesn't shut up about it."

"I think its cute that Dokja-ssi enjoys talking about Yoo Joonghyuk-ssi." 

"Ugh and it's not just about his cooking either. He goes on and on about his face, and abs, and d–” 

Dokja jumped and nearly tackled her, slapping a hand to Sooyoung's much-too-loud mouth. “That’s enough from you!”

The rest of his friends burst into laughter and Dokja looked back at his boyfriend, face aflame. The taller man's expression was infuriatingly impassive as always (and yeah, so he talks about how stupidly hot he is, can anyone blame him?!) but there was an amused twitch on his mouth, tension released. 

A rapid knocking came from the door, breaking everyone’s attention away to Dokja’s relief. He scrambled up to answer it. 

As soon as the door was opened, a blurry bundle of blonde flung itself into his arms. 

“Dokja!” 

He let out a surprised laugh. “It’s nice to see you editor-nim.” 

Uriel looked up, her green eyes sparkling. “It’s so good to see you. And you look so healthy! I’m relieved.” 

“I’m sorry I haven’t come by the office yet,” Dokja gave a sheepish smile.

“There’s no need for that now that you’re not a full-time employee,” she brushed off his apology airily. “Although, perhaps think about stopping by every now and then when you can. Bihyung’s been crabby since you left, and everyone misses you.” 

He turned his face away, smile wavering. “I’m sure everyone feels more settled now without me there causing a stir.” 

“Nonsense,” Uriel gave him a slap on the shoulder, shocking a gasp out of him. “The only stir you caused was worrying everyone when you up and left without warning like that.” 

“I’m sure your friends would all agree,” she looked past him and gave everyone in the room a cheery wave. “Nice to meet you all!” 

Responding greetings resounded at various enthusiasm levels. 

Uriel’s eyes landed on Yoo Joonghyuk and froze. A small squeak escaped her rosy lips. 

Dokja glanced between them and suppressed a laugh. “Joonghyuk-ah, could you come over here for a second?” 

His boyfriend raised an eyebrow, but approached obediently. 

“Uriel, I’m glad I can finally officially introduce you – this is Yoo Joonghyuk,” he proclaimed, the man in question squinting at him in suspicion at his dramatic, teasing tone. 

Uriel reached out to grab one of Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands and shook it furiously. “Joonghyukie– I mean– Yoo Joonghyuk-ssi it’s an honour to finally meet you.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk, in a rare show of cordiality, nodded his head. “It’s nice to meet you as well. I’ve been wanting to thank you for helping Kim Dokja.” 

She returned with a bashful giggle. “There’s nothing to thank me for. I couldn’t bear losing such a talented writer after all.” 

At this, Joonghyuk glanced over at Dokja, his lips curving with fondness. “That he is.”

Uriel followed his movements with a barely concealed squeal. 

The taller man faced her again. “But I also heard that you played a big role in forcing Nebula to back down from their smear campaign by threatening to sue for slander and invasion of privacy. I really appreciate that as well.” 

Dokja’s mouth gaped. This was news to him.

“Uriel, you did what?!” 

After Yoo Joonghyuk had eventually revealed to him that his managers at Nebula had been responsible for exposing him to the media, he’d been angry of course. But at that point, there wasn’t much left to be done and he figured Yoo Joonghyuk had already punished them enough by taking away their best player and most sought after brand ambassador. It hadn’t even occurred to him to get the law involved. 

Uriel gave a shrug. “Oh, that. Well, obviously I wasn’t going to let them get away with what was clearly just a petty, mean revenge plot against you for writing a slightly less than sparkling article about them.”

Dokja spluttered, rendered speechless. To think that she would go to such lengths to defend him, he was astonished but also… extremely touched. He never imagined that she would hold this much concern for him.

The mischievous green eyes lit up again. “I heard you did a number on them yourself, Supreme King. Word on the street is that you poached some of their top players for the new training school you’re opening.” 

“Not on purpose,” Yoo Joonghyuk responded, matter-of-fact. 

Dokja grinned. “When his old teammates and trainees heard that he was starting up his own thing, they basically begged him for a spot.” 

Lee Jihye had been especially persistent. Fifty-texts-per-day persistent, in fact. Yoo Joonghyuk had eventually relented, but Dokja knew the guy was secretly happy to have his student back. 

“Of course they did! You’re the best in the industry,” Uriel gushed. 

Dokja laughed at her enthusiasm and gave Joonghyuk a pat on the arm. “I forgot to mention: Uriel’s a huge fan. If you’re feeling nice, maybe you could give a signature or something?”

Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes narrowed at his scheming boyfriend – now understanding why he’d been so gleeful to introduce the two of them. But as much as Joonghyuk hated entertaining fan requests, he certainly couldn’t deny Uriel of all people.

The gamer gave a resigned sigh, and nodded. 

Uriel looked like she was just about ready to bounce off the walls. 

“I'll begin serving up dinner,” Dokja chirped, giving Yoo Joonghyuk a pointed look to be a good little celebrity. “Sooyoung’s going to throw a tantrum if we starve her any longer.” 

As he slunk off, he could hear the blonde chattering away in delight behind him. 

“This might sound weird Joonghyuk-ssi, but I’ve watched almost all your streams so I feel like we’re already friends!”

“...”

“You know, I actually have to admit the reason I had sent Dokja to do the feature on you in the first place was I just knew you two would–” 

He neared his friends and the rest of Uriel’s babbling was drowned out by Sooyoung’s noisy complaints. 

“It’s rude to keep a lady waiting for dinner, you know!” she called out dramatically from where she was splayed out on the couch. 

“You’re hardly a lady,” Dokja snorted, crossing his arms. 

“Fine,” she huffed. “But Yoo Sangah is here too so the point still stands.” 

Yoo Sangah gave Sooyoung a little smile. “It’s quite alright. I’m not too hungry, take your time Dokja-ssi.” 

“You also forgot me, ” Heewon raised her brow. 

“If I don’t count, you don’t either,” Sooyoung shot back. 

“Don’t put us in the same bucket!” 

“Yeah, Heewon is most definitely a lady!” Hyunsung protested.

As his friends devolved into another endless round of bickering, Dokja could only shake his head, an affectionate, helpless smile on his lips. 

—

Late into the night, his friends had passed out in the guest bedroom thanks to Heewon and Sooyoung roping everyone into one of their overly aggressive drinking games during dinner. Surprisingly, or perhaps not that surprisingly, Uriel had joined in easily with their antics. Even Sangah had been coaxed into it by Sooyoung’s persistence. 

Dokja whistled in the kitchen while washing up the dishes, his own head at a rather nice level of buzz. As he replayed the events of the night, he couldn’t help but smile to himself. It was really nice to be with everyone again. 

Yoo Joonghyuk quietly came up from behind, taking a bowl out of his hand to dry. 

“Did you check in on Mia?” Dokja asked conversationally, moving on to rinse the next dish. 

“Mhm.”

“How are the kids doing?” 

“It sounded like they were having fun at the sleepover,” Yoo Joonghyuk replied with a soft lift of his mouth. “Yoosung and Gilyoung asked me to pass on a message that you have a mandatory visit coming up in a few weeks.” 

Dokja tilted his head back to laugh warmly. “Yeah, yeah, I know. They’ve already texted me about it like five times.” 

“You’ll be okay going into the city?” His partner gave him a sideways glance. 

He paused for a moment, then gave a light-hearted hum of agreement.

“Yeah, I think it’ll be okay. I’ll wear a mask and everything.”

“I can come with you if you want.” 

“Joonghyuk-ah, you know it’s harder to keep a low profile with you around right?” He rolled his eyes and gave his boyfriend a playful bump on the hip.

Yoo Joonghyuk pursed his lips in his adorable version of a pout, something Dokja had learned in the months since they'd started dating that the bastard only did when the two of them were in private. 

“Alright, fine.” 

“Anyway, I’ve got a bunch of errands I need to run for my mom too. Mr. Son gave me a package to give to his granddaughter during my last visit,” Dokja turned his attention back to the chore. “There’s no need to drag you along.”

Just as he was reaching for the last glass remaining in the sink, Joonghyuk pulled his hands away and slotted his fingers into his.

"I've been wanting to ask you something."

Dokja looked up, eyes questioning. "Yeah?"

Yoo Joonghyuk scanned his face for a moment. 

“Are you happy here?” he tilted his head ever so slightly. 

“In Daejeon?” Dokja squinted with confusion.

It had taken a while for him and Yoo Joonghyuk to settle on a place and then a home, but it was only because there were so many things they had to consider. The outskirts of this city were quiet enough that Dokja didn't have to worry about being recognized while grocery shopping or taking a walk to the park - even though the news had died down significantly in the last few months (partially thanks to Uriel, now he knew), he still took precautions in crowded areas. But perhaps more importantly, it was still close enough to the capital that Yoo Joonghyuk could commute in regularly to meet with his students and newly acquired investors. Close enough for Mia to see her friends often, and for Sooyoung to come bug Dokja anytime she wanted. It was also closer in proximity to Lee Sookyoung, allowing the mother and son to visit each other with better ease. 

“We picked the place together silly,” Dokja swung their intertwined hands, still unsure what the other was asking. “Of course I am”  

Yoo Joonghyuk leaned closer, his dark eyes serious and breathtaking as always. “I mean here. Right now," he murmured.

Kim Dokja went quiet, and met his companion’s gaze. Down the hallway, he could hear the soft snores and quiet grumbling of his friends as they were no doubt squishing each other for space on the bed. In the corner of the kitchen, was a handwritten recipe book carefully put together by his mother, gifted to him when he’d been moving to the new home. On the fridge, photos of Mia, Yoosung, and Gilyoung with the two men on their many weekend trips together.

And in front of him, a man with nothing but tenderness in his boundless eyes, clasping his hands as if he were the most precious treasure on this planet.

Dokja leaned forward, touching his forehead to Joonghyuk’s. 

“You idiot,” he huffed, voice crackling. He took a deep intake of breath. 

“Yes. I’m happy. I'm so happy.” The words came from his heart, his very soul - so true that it nearly made anything else he'd ever uttered feel like a lie. 

Yoo Joonghyuk smiled then, real and beautiful. “Me too.” 

And they stayed there, a warm space between them, a whole world of its own. An entire infinity and eternity and endless epilogue.