Archive of Our Own

[Hidden Scenario: <Through the Looking-Glass>

Type: Hidden

Difficulty: C

Clear conditions: Complete a sub-scenario without the aid of any skills. All restrictions will be lifted 24 hours after completion.

Time limit: - -

Compensation: ???

Failure: ???]

Kim Dokja stares dumbly at the screen hovering in front of him.

He buries his head in his hands.

This is…not ideal.

He lets himself flop back onto his bed, closing his eyes in thought. Should he tell everyone? Maybe a select few, like Yoo Sangah and Jung Heewon? It’d be nice to have that extra bit of protection, he supposes. Protection…Yoo Joonghyuk’s the best option from that angle, isn’t he? If he were to tell Yoo Joonghyuk…

Kim Dokja’s eyes fly open.

He almost hears the Fourth Wall admonishing him for his stupidity. The Fourth Wall, the one barrier he has to whatever mind-reading skills his companions have all been investing in in an attempt to sneak a peek at his mental planning. And especially with Yoo Joonghyuk’s Sage’s Eye—Kim Dokja literally cannot think of anything worse than having Yoo Joonghyuk prying into his mind.

Kim Dokja looks down at his hands. He opens and closes them. Right now, he’s no stronger than an ordinary person. Fragile like glass. 

He spends some time idling in the safe isolation of his room, deep in anxious thought.

“Kim Dokja, you bastard!”

Kim Dokja lifts his head.

Han Sooyoung’s irritated voice filters through the locked door. “For fuck’s sake, why aren’t you answering my messages in Midday Tryst? Get out here and put a leash on your children, I think Yoo Joonghyuk’s about to kill them.”

Kim Dokja winces, cracking the door open in mild concern. He’d rather not run into Han Sooyoung either—she’s admittedly rather sharp, with or without a skill. “What did he do?”

“First of all, stop ghosting me.”

“I muted you,” Kim Dokja lies breezily, brushing past her. He ignores the expletives yelled after him.

He spies Lee Gilyoung practically breathing down Yoo Joonghyuk’s back as he cooks, Shin Yoosung loitering a more respectable distance away. 

It’d be a heartwarming scene, given how much Lee Gilyoung always seems to despise Yoo Joonghyuk, if not for the fact that Yoo Joonghyuk’s practically vibrating with irritation and looking seconds away from clocking a kid over the head.

He quickly sidles up to grab Lee Gilyoung by the hoodie, pulling him back gently as the kid lets out a startled squawk. Yoo Joonghyuk glances up at this, so Kim Dokja dips his head in a brief apology.

Yoo Joonghyuk regards him with a curious stare. Ah, maybe he’s being a little too amicable? Kim Dokja glances away quickly, thankful for the two distractions between them.

“Gilyoungie~” he lilts, dropping a hand on the boy’s head and shaking it slightly back and forth. “What’s this about bugging Yoo Joonghyuk?”

Lee Gilyoung spins around to face him. “Hyung!” he says delightedly, snapping Shin Yoosung’s attention around. “Look, I’m going to—”

They stare at him a little.

“What,” he says hesitantly. 

“Ah, nothing, it’s just…nothing,” Shin Yoosung says blankly, staring at him with curious eyes.

“I’m learning how to cook,” Lee Gilyoung cuts in with his chest puffed out, as if miffed at how quickly they got off topic, though his eyes don’t leave Kim Dokja’s face.

“That’s nice,” says Kim Dokja, hastily breaking eye contact to glance to Shin Yoosung for further explanation.

“He’s hardly learning,” Shin Yoosung protests. “He’s just getting in the way and making the food come slower.”

“I’m learning,” Lee Gilyoung snaps. “I’m gonna prove that shitty bastard wrong. You won’t need to rely on him; I’ll cook for you, Hyung.”

“Don’t swear,” Kim Dokja chastises. It takes a moment longer for the rest of the words to settle in. “Wait, what? What does that mean?”

“The sooty bastard spoke as if you would be living with him forever,” Shin Yoosung cuts in, with an angry expression that looks closer to a pout. “Something along the lines of—” She drops her voice to mimic the regressor’s. “It’s not like he could live without my cooking. And Gilyoung got mad.”

“Forever?” Kim Dokja echoes softly.

Forever, what a nice word. It makes him feel all warm inside when he thinks of Yoo Joonghyuk saying it. Surely Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t mean such a thing, though? Surely he wasn’t saying that he’d be willing to let Kim Dokja grow old with him? Such a domestic image is so similar to that of a married couple that it makes his face heat and his skin feel tingly when he stares at Yoo Joonghyuk. His back is so broad and his black shirt is just tight enough that he can see the muscles rippling as the larger man cooks and it’s such a sight that it makes Kim Dokja’s thoughts feel all fuzzy, and if he can let reality melt away for just one moment then the scenery’s almost like they’re newlyweds and they could just stay like this forever and he finds that he wouldn’t mind that at all—

“…Hyung?”

Kim Dokja startles.

“What,” he squeaks out, hastily spinning to face away from Yoo Joonghyuk. 

Shin Yoosung reaches up to touch his forehead, brows knitting in concern. “Ahjussi, are you perhaps sick?”

Kim Dokja hastily takes a step back. “I’m fine, really!” he says breathlessly, utterly flaming with mortification as he belatedly processes just where his vulnerable mind had gone. He doesn’t dare sneak a peek over to Yoo Joonghyuk.

He pats their heads with both hands, effectively distracting them as they beam. He tries his best to adopt a stern tone, but it comes out slightly strained with how eager he is to flee the regressor’s overwhelming presence. “Yoo Joonghyuk is working hard for us. If you’re going to observe, do so from a distance.”

Kim Dokja doesn’t wait for a response, speeding past them with a hand hovering over his flustered face.

He has to fix this. Now.

“Don’t tell me there’s already an upcoming scenario,” Han Sooyoung grumbles.

“Not quite,” Kim Dokja concedes, sweeping his gaze over his companions. “We’re infiltrating a dungeon that’ll trigger one, though.”

Han Sooyoung groans loudly. “Come on, we just did one all together! Just give me a chance to recover!”

Yoo Sangah raises an eyebrow amusedly. “If I recall, you were the least injured out of all of us?”

“That just makes me competent,” she sneers back.

“Yes, Hyunsung-ssi is a very competent shield.”

“Don’t bring me into this,” Lee Hyunsung says weakly.

“Um,” says Kim Dokja hesitantly.

“It’s called using your environment to your advantage. Plus the fact that Heewon got lost, so Lee Hyunsung didn’t get the chance to fawn over her the whole time.” Han Sooyoung cackles at the larger man’s frantic expression.

“Your first thought was to use Hyunsung-ssi as a human shield instead of looking for me?” Jung Heewon deadpans.

“Um,” says Kim Dokja, again.

Yoo Sangah claps twice, cutting through the chatter.

“Dokja-ssi has something to say,” she announces with a kindly air of shut the fuck up.

Kim Dokja flinches when all eyes turn to him. What on earth had he been thinking this whole time, electing himself as the leader of these people? He’s not good with people, he’s not good with attention or speeches or anything of the sort, this is the worst spot to put himself in—

He coughs into his fist.

“To debrief on the scenario—”

“Wait a sec.”

Kim Dokja sweats under Lee Jihye’s scrutinizing glare.

“This ahjussi seems different today,” she mutters.

Kim Dokja shrinks back, just a little. “…I’m not sure what you’re—”

“Are you sure you’re fit to lead us into a scenario? No concussion or anything?” Lee Jihye continues. 

“No concussion,” he says firmly, sounding surprisingly confident despite himself. “I’m alright, really.”

“Pulled your head from the clouds and everything? Because it was this Ahjussi over here who was too focused on showing off for Master to focus on the actual objective last time.”

Han Sooyoung crows. Kim Dokja flushes slightly. “First of all, that never happened. Second, don’t say these kinds of things so carelessly, Jihye.”

Of course, she ignores him. “Excuse me for being cautious!” She waves her sheathed sword in the air. “Not everyone can just regenerate body parts like you, what would you do if I lost my sword-wielding arm?!”

She makes a smug expression to no one in particular at the following silence from Kim Dokja. Their gazes collectively slide to Kim Dokja, awaiting his witty reply.

Instead, Kim Dokja’s face crumples slightly in shame, making Lee Jihye pause and take a step back.

“I—wasn’t aware,” he says quietly, head lowered slightly. “Ah, I know that’s no excuse. My presence makes things difficult, doesn’t it?”

They stare at him. Kim Dokja’s eyes stay on the floor, as if he’s afraid to meet theirs.

Even the infamously stubborn Lee Jihye is stunned into a hasty apology. “Uh, it was—it was just a joke! Seriously,” she blurts, waving her hands quickly. “In—in fact, Dokja-ssi is very dependable! You’ve saved my life so many times, so it cancels out!”

Kim Dokja’s eyes widen, then curl into gentle crescents at her words, tilting his head slightly in a way that makes his eyelashes catch the light of early sun. “Ah, is that so?” He lets out a relieved laugh. It’s a soft little sound, like the tinkling of wind chimes.

They stare at him.

Kim Dokja falters.

“What?” he says nervously.

“Why are you glowing,” Jung Heewon says dumbly.

Startled, Kim Dokja touches his cheek absently. “Glowing?”

[The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ says that Kim Dokja looks very pretty today.]

Kim Dokja jumps as if the blue screen had startled him. 

“What,” he says numbly, his other hand also lifting up to touch his face.

[The constellation ‘Prisoner of the Golden Headband’ is nodding in accordance with the constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’.]

[The constellation ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon’ is openly gawking at the constellation ‘Demon King of Salvation’.]

[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’s eyes are gleaming with interest.]

“What are all of you saying?” Kim Dokja stutters out, somewhat hysterically. 

“In the words of Gandhi, has the world gone fucking blind?” Han Sooyoung says this, but even she’s staring at him like he’s just grown a second head—and honestly, he might have.

Jung Heewon squints. “I don’t know how I never noticed this, but…what the hell does a man need such long eyelashes for?”

“Your skin looks surprisingly soft? What kind of moisturizer do you use?” Yoo Sangah tilts her head with innocent curiosity, reaching out to poke his cheek and making him jump. His heart shrivels in betrayal at the teasing glint in her eyes.

“Okay, so it’s not just me?” Lee Jihye rubs violently at her eyes. “Did we collectively get a vision-related skill or something? Is this what it’s like to put glasses on? What is happening?”

“Oh my god, he’s blushing.” Han Sooyoung makes a mocking cooing sound that makes him shrink in on himself.

Kim Dokja hides his face in his hands. “Stop it,” he mumbles, uncertain with the attention. 

A disgruntled Yoo Joonghyuk slams the door open.

Kim Dokja spins around with an excuse on his lips, but Yoo Joonghyuk barely looks at him.

“What the hell are these messages,” he grounds out, jabbing a finger to his own three screens. Apparently the constellations were generous enough to share their messages to the whole floor, much to Kim Dokja’s dismay.

He hears Han Sooyoung cackle. Yoo Joonghyuk’s head swivels to glare at her.

“Yoo Joonghyuk, don’t you think your companion looks pretty today?” she drawls.

Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes snap back to stare at him. Kim Dokja flinches at the intensity of it, expecting him to just scoff and brush past him, but the regressor just. Freezes. And stares at him for a second.

Then two. Three. Four.

Five.

Oh, don’t look at me like that.

Kim Dokja feels himself turning to absolute mush under that unreadable glare, every cheesy lovesick trope hitting him at full force, with the fluttering heart and weak knees and everything. To preserve his sanity, he decides to attribute it to fear instead.

He feels the many, many eyes on him—and it hits him like a rush of cold water that oh shit, he’s supposed to be subtle about this. There’s no telling what would happen if they somehow put two and two together, but if Yoo Joonghyuk realizes that he could use Sage’s Eye on him then it’s over. His dignity, his life, everything.

So he just needs to…be himself. Annoying and insufferable. He can do that much.

“Joonghyuk-ah, don’t look at me like that…!” Kim Dokja pitches his voice high and clutches his coat in the same way a maiden would clutch at her falling robes. Yoo Joonghyuk’s face twists and starts boiling with fury, a vein popping in his temple. Honestly, it’s still a little satisfying.

Lee Jihye makes some choking noise, which Kim Dokja assumes to be a good thing. Better than…whatever the hell was happening just before this, at least, so he keeps going. 

“Do you really think I’m that pretty?” He bats his eyelashes obnoxiously, leaning close into Yoo Joonghyuk’s personal space. It’s a little risky, with how loud his heart feels and how close it leaves him to Yoo Joonghyuk, but no matter. Yoo Joonghyuk’s heart is a prickly cactus that would rather stab his than listen to it.

He practically hears the other’s grinding teeth. With a grunt of annoyance, Yoo Joonghyuk brushes him aside.

More accurately, he ends up backhanding Kim Dokja across the face. 

This genre of exchange recurs so often between the two of them that Yoo Joonghyuk had undoubtedly expected the same dance to be had in this game of cat and mouse, with Kim Dokja as the insufferable little shit he is, smugly taunting Yoo Joonghyuk in every way he can before jumping or flying out of reach with lighting-quick reflexes.

Now, though, Kim Dokja’s reflexes are nigh nonexistent.

He doesn’t even see the hand before it hits him, meaning he’s standing stock still when it comes—no brace for impact, not even a flinch, and he would be embarrassed about it if it weren’t for the absolute hideous pain that shoots into his skull.

Kim Dokja hears himself make the most pitiful little sound as he clutches his burning cheek, stumbling backwards and swaying slightly. The world is hazy through eyes that can’t see, incessant white noise drowning out anything around him. It feels like it takes several minutes for him to just be able to see, but from the way everyone stares at him it’s clear that it’s only been a few seconds of dead silence.

Then, “Yoo Joonghyuk, what the hell?”

“Dokja-ssi, are you okay?!”

“…Is he crying??”

Kim Dokja blinks dizzily at the source of the voices. It takes a moment longer for the words to register.

“I’m not!” he splutters, the burning in his eyes feeling abruptly pronounced. “It’s just…”

How the hell does he explain this? For anyone with their expected level of durability, a backhand—no, ‘backhand’ is too generous—an accidental collision with Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand would sting at worst.

“Master, you made him cry,” Lee Jihye says with so much genuine distress that Kim Dokja almost starts laughing despite the pain.

Yoo Joonghyuk says something—or maybe makes some random noise that Kim Dokja can’t catch above the loud ringing in his ears, dizzily tuning in and out like a fly buzzing around his ear.

Kim Dokja can’t bring himself to care, because jesus shitting fuck it hurts. It really, really hurts. Being stabbed doesn’t even hurt this much. It’s difficult to react to the clamor around him, so he just stands there in that slightly cross-eyed daze, holding his cheek tenderly as he wills the spinning to go away.

“Yoo Joonghyuk, what did you do?!” Jung Heewon snarls, turning on the regressor. Out of the corner of his teary eyes he sees her put a hand on the hilt of her sword, so he instinctively turns to them in mild panic, an action that makes him stumble slightly and face Yoo Joonghyuk.

Even Yoo Joonghyuk looks startled. He doesn’t spare Heewon a glance, staring at Kim Dokja with slightly widened eyes. Kim Dokja’s face starts burning for an entirely different reason. 

“We’ll reconvene tomorrow,” he says feebly, trying his best not to look like he’s fleeing as he leaves the room.

They stare at him as he leaves, the silence holding even when the tail end of his coat disappears past the doorframe.

For a bit longer, no one moves.

“Everyone huddle up,” Han Sooyoung blurts. Within seconds, the adults of Kim Dokja’s Company minus Yoo Joonghyuk are hunched into a ragged circle. Everyone leans in, watching her intently.

Han Sooyoung points to where Kim Dokja had disappeared.

“Who the fuck is that?”

[The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ says that Kim Dokja looks very pretty today.]

[The constellation ‘Prisoner of the Golden Headband’ is in accordance with the constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’.]

[The constellation ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon’ is openly gawking at the constellation ‘Demon King of Salvation’.]

[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’s eyes are gleaming with interest.]

What.

Yoo Joonghyuk puts his phone down and stares blankly at the floating screens. He stands.

He bursts into the meeting room with far more energy than he’d originally intended, eyes immediately seeking out a certain Kim Dokja, who—stands there, staring at him blankly with his hands holding his cheeks. When their eyes meet, Kim Dokja hastily drops his hands.

There’s a concealed sigh of—relief? No, definitely not—when he sees that familiar flash of white and not whatever scandalous image he’d definitely not had in his mind. 

He doesn’t deign looking at him for any longer than the briefest glance-over. “What the hell are these messages,” he growls instead, directing the question to everyone else.

Han Sooyoung lets out an obnoxious laugh, the kind that Yoo Joonghyuk has learned to recognize as when she finds something amusing to fuck with them. He snaps his eyes over to her and narrows them in suspicion.

“Yoo Joonghyuk, don’t you think your companion looks pretty today?” she drawls.

It’s a trap. It’s so obviously a trap, but Yoo Joonghyuk looks at Kim Dokja anyway.

Pretty isn’t a word Yoo Joonghyuk has ever thought to use for Kim Dokja, someone with such bland a face that it’s sometimes even hard to picture in its entirety, like an unfinished painting. But it rings loudly in his head this time when he stares at the bemused man as if it’s the first time he’s ever seen his face, and curiously it does feel like that but in a subtle way that makes his brain itch. 

Maybe it’s the lighting that does it, but it’s like his eyes are beyond his own control when they start to trace his long-lashed eyes and curved nose and pink little lips that come together in surprising harmony and all Yoo Joonghyuk can think of is pretty, pretty, pretty, so pretty it almost hurts to look at him but oh-so pretty that he can’t look away.

And just when it hits him that he’s been silent for a little too long, Kim Dokja seems to think the same—and the smaller man does something wicked that makes Yoo Joonghyuk feel lightheaded and internally scream what in god’s name are you doing.

Because—Kim Dokja lowers his head slightly to peer up through long, long eyelashes (they’re so long, what the fuck?) and bat them bashfully with a dusting of pink on his cheeks, while curling his arms around himself and demurely twisting his body in a way that pulls his coat tight around the curve of his waist and tilted hips, and he whimpers out the softest, most delicate “Joonghyuk-ah, don’t look at me.”

And. Oh. 

Yoo Joonghyuk feels something in him break.

And to his vague panic Kim Dokja leans closer, his lashes fluttering and pink lips curled in the most tempting little smile he didn’t think could’ve possibly existed on a man’s face, cooing out a “Do you really think I’m that pretty?” in a voice dripping with something honey-sweet. All while leaning in so close to Yoo Joonghyuk that he can feel warm breath ghosting over his collarbone.

Yoo Joonghyuk tries to say “fuck off” but it comes out as a single, choked off sound that thankfully passes as an irritated grunt. All he really knows is that he desperately needs to get away from Kim Dokja before he does something stupid, so he forcibly turns himself away and throws a hand out blindly to ward that stifling presence out of his personal space.

He doesn’t quite expect it when the back of his hand collides solidly with soft skin, but he doesn’t think much of it either.

But then he hears Kim Dokja utter out this small, unintelligible sound, shaky and vulnerable, and he whips his head back to look at the smaller man in a spike of bewilderment. Like this, he gets a front row seat to the way Kim Dokja’s expression crumples with anguished betrayal as he stares back up at him with these large, tearful eyes, lips quivering minutely as he tenderly cups his reddened cheek.

Yoo Joonghyuk’s mind shutters.

“Master, you made him cry,” Lee Jihye wails into his ear. Hang on, how is this his fault? How was he supposed to know that Kim Dokja would take this so personally?

“I didn’t,” he says dumbly.

Because Kim Dokja had never reacted like this before. What’s different this time? What if it isn’t? Was his companion always hurting as much as this? Yoo Joonghyuk can handle a bruised and bleeding Kim Dokja, but he doesn’t know how to handle this. Because a bruised and bleeding Kim Dokja was always still smiling.

But here, Kim Dokja only trembles in silence and looks devastated as he does so (he’s not), that soft utterance of “we’ll reconvene tomorrow” all shaky and almost scared (again, no) and it makes Yoo Joonghyuk’s chest twist horribly as these soulfully glistening eyes pierce straight into his heart. 

Kim Dokja flees, and Yoo Joonghyuk stands there.

“Ahjussi, I really don’t know if you’re fit to—”

“Nonsense,” he waves Shin Yoosung off with painfully forced cheeriness. 

“Hyung, we haven’t seen you since yesterday,” Lee Gilyoung protests. His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “Not after that happened.”

Kim Dokja has to stifle a light chuckle at the twin glares directed at Yoo Joonghyuk, who turns away impassively. Neither of them were there for the ‘that’, but it seems Lee Jihye’s already shared with them a rather animated retelling of the story.

“I’ll be fine, really! I’ll have Yoo Joonghyuk with m—”

“Him?!” both teenagers shriek, shooting to their feet.

Jung Heewon’s stance shifts slightly to put herself between Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk. It’s a rather blatant move that has Kim Dokja’s brows raising.

The lemon candy crunches to pieces in Han Sooyoung’s mouth. “Why someone like him and not anyone else? Are you making fun of us?”

“Wasn’t it Sooyoung-ssi who objected so fervently yesterday?” Kim Dokja says sweetly.

She stares at him incredulously, then slumps back in her seat with a huff. “Somehow he’s even more annoying than usual,” she grumbles over crossed arms.

In truth, he just doesn’t want to deal with any of their teasing. Not in front of Yoo Joonghyuk, who’s a necessary addition to manpower in the absence of his own.

“They raise a fair point, Dokja-ssi,” Lee Hyunsung hesitantly offers. “Yesterday, you…well, wouldn’t bringing more people be safer? More people who aren’t…”

There seems to be some tension brewing between everyone and Yoo Joonghyuk. Are they angry at his co-leader? He wracks his brain for reasons and comes up with nothing.

Kim Dokja just waves his hand dismissively. “This is going to be a quick and easy one. Emphasis on the ‘quick’.”

“I mean this respectfully, but what the hell makes you think that guy’s gonna cooperate?” Jung Heewon points out.

Kim Dokja cringes. Actually, he forgot about his companion’s…lack of companionship. He glances helplessly to Yoo Joonghyuk, who stares back blankly.

“I’ll go,” he says.

“You will?” Kim Dokja blinks.

Yoo Joonghyuk sets his mouth in a thin line and spins on his heel, stalking for the exit. Kim Dokja stands there for a moment, then jolts and disappears after him.

“I think this might be his way of apologizing,” murmurs Yoo Sangah.

“Why do these idiots communicate like this,” Han Sooyoung sighs.

“Kim Dokja.”

Kim Dokja tries not to flinch at that guttural voice. He fails, so he picks up his walking speed as if that would somehow deter Yoo Joonghyuk. “Hm?”

Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice echoes lowly in the cavern, as if he was all around him. “What are you up to?”

He sighs a little. “I don’t know what you mean?”

“Your sword.” Yoo Joonghyuk gestures to his hip. “Why isn’t it drawn?”

Kim Dokja’s pace stutters a bit. He instinctively wants to reach for his sword in defiance of Yoo Joonghyuk’s words, but doing so would only be even more suspicious. He keeps walking without looking to the side, face as impassive as he can keep it. 

And he…keeps walking. Kim Dokja has no idea what to say, so he decides to ignore him.

Yoo Joonghyuk grabs his shoulder and slams him against the rough stone wall. (Gently. Still with enough force to startle a yelp from Kim Dokja, but still oddly gently.)

“What?” Kim Dokja snaps, with an embarrassingly futile attempt of pulling away.

Yoo Joonghyuk pushes his face close to Kim Dokja’s, who nearly lets out a squeak at the proximity. The regressor’s presence is impossibly oppressive, leaving him dizzy with all the blood that rushes to his head.

“What are you hiding,” Yoo Joonghyuk snarls. “Even yesterday, you were—”

Kim Dokja slaps his hands over Yoo Joonghyuk’s mouth without really thinking.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says rather frantically.

Kim Dokja feels Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips curve into a frown under his palm, ticklish and hot against that sensitive skin. He ekes out an odd sound and jerks back, yelping again when the back of his head collides with the cavern wall.

Yoo Joonghyuk’s expression turns more bewildered than reprimanding. “What is with you?”

“I’m fine,” he blurts hastily, turning his head away to escape Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes. His breath feels slightly labored from the way his heart beats.

Yoo Joonghyuk fixes him with a gaze of something like pity.

“Fine,” Kim Dokja relents, shrinking under that stare. He crosses his arms protectively over his chest. “But can you—can you take a step back?”

“Then you’ll run away.” Yoo Joonghyuk leans in even closer.

Kim Dokja’s breath hitches, so he presses his lips shut in stubborn silence.

Yoo Joonghyuk watches him for a moment longer. His irises flick back and forth between Kim Dokja’s eyes, then travel up, then down, like they’re tracing the lines of his face. Kim Dokja’s skin tingles.

Begrudgingly, Yoo Joonghyuk steps back, still within arms-length but giving Kim Dokja enough room to breathe. And breathe he does, a faintly shuddering inhale that does nothing to clear the heat thrumming beneath his skin.

“I don’t have my skills,” Kim Dokja admits flatly, leaning petulantly against the wall and fixing his eyes on the space between their feet.

The silence is suffocating.

Kim Dokja fidgets with the hem of his sleeve.

“We’re leaving,” says Yoo Joonghyuk.

Kim Dokja looks up. “What? No.”

“We’re leaving,” snaps Yoo Joonghyuk, grabbing his wrist and pulling him forward.

Kim Dokja snatches his hand back with surprising ease. “In case you forgot, we’re already in the scenario. And failure won’t be pretty.” He feels a little smug as Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes flit up to reread the scenario rules and darken in annoyance.

“And you need me here,” he continues, “because I’m the only one who knows their way around this labyrinth of a dungeon. It’s easy when you know where you’re going, but have fun guiding me out.”

“You did this on purpose,” Yoo Joonghyuk growls, rounding on him.

Kim Dokja can’t help but flinch at that intense expression. “I needed to,” he shoots back, half-raising his hands protectively in front of him. “I need to in order to clear the hidden scenario.”

He adopts a somewhat softer tone at his companion’s anger. “I’ll be fine. I have you, after all.”

Yoo Joonghyuk falters.

“I’m sorry I can’t be very useful this time, but you work well by yourself, don’t you? Consider me your damsel in distress,” Kim Dokja lilts with a slight quirk of his lips.

Yoo Joonghyuk’s face twists into a frown, but Kim Dokja just pats his shoulder with a faint laugh.

Yoo Joonghyuk stays close to him the entire time. They walk with their shoulders brushing, something that makes Kim Dokja shiver without fail. He doesn’t know how to react to the constant glances Yoo Joonghyuk sends his way, so he keeps his eyes set on the black chasm stretching before them.

The silence is unbroken by his own usual quips and remarks. He just…can’t think of anything to say, like his mind’s a little muddy, hard to peer through. It’s an unfortunate thought, to be slowed down both outside and inside, but he can’t help but feel it’s a little comforting. To be weak, but not so afraid with someone strong by his side.

Kim Dokja wishes they could walk like this forever, just the two of them.

Alas, his story has never been a quiet one. 

He feels Yoo Joonghyuk tense, and before he can say anything, a rumbling growl reverberates down the cavern’s length, making the ground beneath his feet tremble. It’s joined by another, then another, an echo of a thousand voices.

Bleeding from the shadows are these canine-like figures, their fur coiling in wisps of black. Kim Dokja’s seen them before. He’s killed a lot of them before, too, but there’s just. So many, undoubtedly in the number of a pack. And the glowing eyes they look at him with make it clear they want to tear him apart.

So for the first time in a long time, Kim Dokja feels a strike of real, raw fear.

“Ah…” Kim Dokja takes a shaking step back—then two steps forward, to press himself against Yoo Joonghyuk’s broad back. He clutches at the coat with trembling hands, making himself as small as he can.

Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t laugh at him. He doesn’t sneer or tease or pity him. 

“Kim Dokja,” he murmurs instead, low and even and somehow soft. His eyes never leave the threats before him, darting around but never quite landing on Kim Dokja, and for that Kim Dokja is endlessly grateful.

Kim Dokja stares mutely at his fists, knuckles white with how tightly they clutch at Yoo Joonghyuk’s back. With monumental effort, he pries his fingers apart.

“I’m good,” he says quietly, offering a shaking smile even when Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t look at him. “Go raise some hell.”

And Yoo Joonghyuk launches hell into the fucking sky.

Kim Dokja has seen a lot of different Yoo Joonghyuks before, all these different stories wrapped into one person, but he can’t think of the last time he’s seen one this…feral. He beheads one and pierces the next. His feet never touching the ground, but punching into the flanks of the monsters. He bursts through each new splatter of blood and swings and swings and swings. Heavy but fast, like he’s angry. Maybe even like he’s happy. 

Like he’s fighting with something to protect.

Kim Dokja had thought he maybe wouldn’t be able to handle watching something like this, with his mind in the disarray it is, but somehow he thinks it’s a little bit beautiful.

But there’s so many. There wasn’t supposed to be this many. Kim Dokja has this hollow feeling that out of all the enemies he’s made, he can name too many who would be willing to spawn in these droves of monsters in hopes of killing him at his weakest moment.

And Yoo Joonghyuk, no matter how many stories he’s made of, is still one man.

Inevitably, there’s one that slips past the flurry of gore, bounding straight for Kim Dokja. In a blind panic, he dives out of the way and instinctively tries to roll through it, but manages nothing more than knocking his head against the floor with a dizzying thud.

He spins around and stumbles backwards, scrambling frantically for purchase, finding none with his head spinning like so.

There’s a sound, this ferocious, terrified thing, that cuts through the ringing.

“Kim Dokja!”

And there are claws sinking into his thigh.

It burns so hot that for a full second he doesn’t even realize it hurts—and then that second passes, and he screams.

It’s this terrible wailing sound he’s never heard from himself, a foreign thing that tears its way through his convulsing throat. One attack, one injury and it drains everything from him, sends him ragdolling to the ground in a shaking and whimpering heap that no one could ever recognize as Kim Dokja.

The Kim Dokja of two days prior would’ve stumbled onto bleeding legs and fought until there was nothing left to bleed. But this Kim Dokja feels like he might die from the pain alone. He wants to die, just to make it stop. Instead he just curls on his side, too paralyzed with agony to dig his heels in and move himself, his cries petering out into the most pathetic mewls of  “no, no, no” as he peers at the stalking figure through a noisy film.

He presses his spine into the stone as far as it can go but it’s pouncing on him like he’s no more than a mouse, tearing open his belly and he screams. Can’t quite hear himself doing it anymore, just feels it scraping open his bleeding throat.

There’s a name on his parted lips, a single lifeline he’s always clinging to whenever things start to hurt—and here is no different, here is worse, where the empty space beside him makes his pooling blood feel cold.

Something wrenches the hound off of him with an animalistic roar, something he’s never heard before but it’s familiar all the same—and it’s broken by the short shriek Kim Dokja lets out as the movement rips those claws from his skin.

Kim Dokja curls on his side, his arms tight and shaking around the open gash in his stomach. Through bleary eyes he sees the silhouette of Yoo Joonghyuk kneeling over the limp mass that had torn him open. It’s long dead, but Yoo Joonghyuk claws at the fur and smashes it open, his sword discarded on the ground. His fists weep freely with blood as they crush themselves against bone. Those furious, guttural roars are sounds that shouldn’t be possible from a human’s mouth, so wrought with something visceral and fire-hot that it makes Kim Dokja cry.

Stop, stop, stop, Kim Dokja wants to say. You’re hurting yourself.

His lips part with a weak sound.

“J-Joo—ng…hhk.”

It’s the smallest thing, whimpered soft and frail into the carnage, but it makes Yoo Joonghyuk freeze too quickly like it’s pierced through his heart.

Yoo Joonghyuk scrambles inelegantly for him, a calloused, shaking hand cupping his cheek as the other helps him press against his bleeding wound. Kim Dokja’s eyes burn along with everything else, but he’s too tired to cry out.

“Fuck fuck fuck, Kim Dokja don’t—don’t close your eyes, don’t.” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice trembles in a way unlike Yoo Joonghyuk, his face twisted into something desperate and terrified that feels unfamiliar to Kim Dokja. He shoves a healing capsule down his throat, does the best he can to close his wounds, all while holding Kim Dokja close. He’s shaking. Or maybe it’s Kim Dokja who’s shaking, enough for the two of them.

Why do you look so scared? Kim Dokja wants to say.

Kim Dokja isn’t dying. It hurts and he feels like he’s dying but he knows he isn’t. He’s familiar enough with such situations that he knows that with Yoo Joonghyuk’s skills, he isn’t going to die. Yoo Joonghyuk is supposed to know this, too.

But Yoo Joonghyuk still holds him like he’s going to fall apart.

“Eyes open. Open,” Yoo Joonghyuk snaps in a rushed breath when he maneuvers him carefully, making Kim Dokja whimper pathetically as he tucks his arms beneath him and stands on trembling feet with him in a bridal carry. His pace is fast and loud, a deafening rhythm swallowed by the corpses littering the cavern floor.

Yoo Joonghyuk picks his way quickly and desperately, but even still this protagonist is careful, so careful, not to jostle the parts of Kim Dokja that hurt.

It’s here that Kim Dokja starts to cry.

Not the kind from when his body burned so bad that it had nowhere to go but to his eyes, escaping in prickling and mortifying droplets. His cheeks are already stained with teartracks, and he overwrites them with something quieter and sadder, something like longing and uncertainty. His whole body hurts with the way it convulses, but he can’t stop.

“You’re fine. You’ll be fine,” Yoo Joonghyuk whispers hoarsely without breaking pace, mistaking those tears for being wept out of fear. Kim Dokja doesn’t bother correcting him, doesn’t know what he’d say if he did, so he just curls small in Yoo Joonghyuk’s arms and cries.

Yoo Joonghyuk thinks he must’ve stopped breathing when he feels Kim Dokja run up behind him and cling.

He expels a silent huff of air at the soft collision against his back, but it’s hard to take any back in when it registers that it’s Kim Dokja’s warmth he feels. A breathless, quivering warmth, but Kim Dokja all the same.

His face feels hot and his body twitches with the urge to shove that smaller body away, but he decides against it. Why, he can’t say. He doesn’t want to think about it, either. Doesn’t want to think about what it means to feel what he feels around the Kim Dokja who relies on him.

He doesn’t understand it in the slightest, how Kim Dokja has managed to change so drastically under the loss of his skills. Yoo Joonghyuk has lived in this ruined world for a long time but he’s never heard of a skill that could turn someone into a person like Kim Dokja.

All he understands, right in this moment, is that Kim Dokja is scared. So scared that he can’t bury it like he’s buried everything else that’s fragile, and it’s something so unfamiliar to Yoo Joonghyuk that no matter how desperately he wants to look back and burn this image into his mind, he can’t.

“Kim Dokja,” he hears himself say. Not for any particular reason, not to comfort his shaking companion or anything, almost as if he’s making sure that in this moment it’s really Kim Dokja tucked close behind him.

But Kim Dokja seems to be comforted anyway, from the way he breathes easier and the tension in his trembling hands seems to quietly bleed out. As if Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice alone, this reminder of his presence, is enough to comfort Kim Dokja, and Yoo Joonghyuk feels a swell of something warm in his chest that he snuffs out before it can reach his face.

“Go raise some hell.”

And Yoo Joonghyuk tried, he really did. As a regressor the lives of his companions have started becoming expendable, because he was certain he would see them again in the next life. But it’s different with Kim Dokja, whose life exists so precariously that Yoo Joonghyuk is certain that the moment Kim Dokja dies, he will too. Yoo Joonghyuk had almost forgotten what it’s like to want to protect something precious to him.

So he tries and tries and tries, until every part of his skin is ripped and torn and bleeding, not enough to maim but just enough to hurt. He tears down everything that reaches for his precious person, until his eyes are burning against the leftover mist of his carnage. He fights for two lives instead of one.

Yet Yoo Joonghyuk, no matter how many stories he’s made of, is just one man.

He’s facing a wall of stained fur when one slips by. Yoo Joonghyuk sees it when it happens, when the wall he builds with a single sword cracks just enough for a beast to launch itself through. He sees it, and still is useless when it reaches Kim Dokja.

Yoo Joonghyuk makes a noise that sounds like a deafening roar but tastes like a cry, and he pours everything he has into his numbing limbs to try and try and try to make it before his precious person is taken from him. 

The scream he hears is piercing enough to shatter every wall he’s built. 

Kim Dokja is supposed to be strong. He’s supposed to be someone who always knows what he’s doing, who can find his way out of anything, who always grits his teeth and stands back up to stay by Joonghyuk’s side. Yoo Joonghyuk has never known Kim Dokja to be a fragile person, so that sound scares him in a way nothing else ever has.

And even worse, Kim Dokja starts to cry his name.

The second he’s slain every beast blocking his path, he launches himself for the hound. Kills it in one blow like he’s killed all the others, stabbing his sword through its skull until the blade erupts from the other side of its head.

It’s not enough, not enough to make sure it’s dead, so he lets the hilt go for the first time and beats the thing in with his fists. He crushes its skull just as much as it crushes his knuckles. The burn is euphoric, and he lets it overpower the echo of Kim Dokja that’s driving his mind to insanity, the etched image of a scared and crying Kim Dokja who goes voiceless in agony. He beats and beats and beats the filthy thing into the cavern ground, the stone cracking beneath him with the force of it.

And through all the noise in his head cuts in the softest sound that makes the world fall quiet.

“…Hhk.” It’s all he hears once he realizes it’s Kim Dokja who’s speaking. His legs are weak when he rises, but he doesn’t let it slow him down when he goes to Kim Dokja.

Kim Dokja’s eyes are glazed over, his cheeks wet with tears, a sight that Yoo Joonghyuk has never seen on someone so prideful. He presses desperately on the open wounds in his thigh and stomach, even when Kim Dokja sobs at the pain. He never tells Yoo Joonghyuk to stop.

Kim Dokja is bleeding and hurting, has just watched Yoo Joonghyuk turn into something dangerously inhuman to rip a dead thing to its second death, but still he looks up at Yoo Joonghyuk like he’s the safest thing in the world.

Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t deserve such unquestioning trust from a man as damaged as this, those tears and whimpers and trembling breaths a nauseating product of Yoo Joonghyuk’s failure. So he hates hates hates it when Kim Dokja winces or his breath hitches because each little thing stabs his chest with the taunting knowledge of you did this, Yoo Joonghyuk. You did this.

When he picks him up, cradled as gently as he possibly can in his arms, Kim Dokja starts to cry. He buries his softly shed tears into Yoo Joonghyuk’s chest. And it feels like someone’s pried his ribs apart to reach into his heart and twist.

Yoo Joonghyuk tries his best to reassure him, but the words feel heavy and wrong on his tongue as he listens and feels his companion weep. These cries aren’t harsh and panicked like they were when he was being torn apart, but something quiet and sad and somehow lonely. Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t understand why it sounds so lonely to him, when he’s with Kim Dokja and Kim Dokja’s with him.

I’m sorry, Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t know how to say. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry you trusted me.

Yoo Joonghyuk starts to walk. He walks and walks and walks, aimlessly because Kim Dokja is pale and sweaty and barely conscious, not at all in a state to recall the dungeon layout. He doesn’t run, because that would mean hurting Kim Dokja even more, and he doesn’t think he has enough strength left in his legs to run.

He walks and walks and walks, even when his vision starts going in and out with dehydration, and tries his best to force his shaking legs to walk faster when Kim Dokja starts going deathly quiet in his arms. Quiet and weightless and terribly fragile.

(Kim Dokja is supposed to be strong. He’s supposed to be someone who always knows what he’s doing, who can find his way out of anything, who always grits his teeth and stands back up to stay by Joonghyuk’s side.)

Yoo Joonghyuk walks.

Yoo Joonghyuk rips the door from its hinges with a single kick.

“What the fuck!” Han Sooyoung shrieks. “Why the hell can’t you use the door like a normal pers—”

Her words catch in her throat when her eyes land on the regressor, layered in red and holding an unconscious Kim Dokja protectively in his arms.

“Jesus.” Jung Heewon is on her feet in an instant, snapping the others from their frozen states to rush forward in distress.

Up closer, Yoo Joonghyuk looks—tired, so tired, eyes glazed over and standing unsteadily like his legs are going to give out at any moment. He really does look like he’s gone to hell and back.

And still he holds Kim Dokja so securely like he’ll never let him go. There are several hands reaching out to collect that prone form from his arms, but Yoo Joonghyuk only curls himself closer around Kim Dokja and snarls at anyone who gets too close. He bares his teeth at Lee Jihye, curses at Yoo Sangah, shoulders his way past everything that stands between himself and the guaranteed safety of his most precious person.

Yoo Joonghyuk walks.

Kim Dokja aches all over, but strangely he feels safe.

He remembers being cold but falling asleep warm, with a heartbeat against his ear. He remembers everything hurting so badly that he was convinced he’d die from it, and he remembers soft words of comfort being spoken in that grounding voice.

So when Kim Dokja wakes up, he feels safe.

His eyelids feel heavy and dry when he tries to open them, letting his pupils burn as they move languidly about the white room. He becomes aware of the weight of his body, the intake of each breath filling his lungs.

Kim Dokja’s gaze drifts upwards and lands on the large figure slumped in the corner, breath hitching the slightest bit when he recognizes Yoo Joonghyuk’s shape, nodding off in the armchair. There’s a slight furrow to his brow even in sleep, but to Kim Dokja his features still feel soft and vulnerable.

Inexplicably he wants to reach out or say something, even if he doesn’t know what he’d say, so he’s pushing himself to sit up when he winces sharply, letting out a faint sound when it sparks the ache in his abdomen. He thins his lips somewhat bitterly. Looks like his skills aren’t back yet.

Yoo Joonghyuk jolts awake to that sound, making Kim Dokja flinch slightly. He glances up, and their eyes meet.

Somehow, it’s a little awkward.

“Hi,” Kim Dokja says quietly.

Yoo Joonghyuk opens his mouth to respond, but remains silent when he’s interrupted by the soft click of the door. A head of brown hair pokes its way inside.

After a moment of blank staring, Lee Gilyoung slams the door fully open.

“Hyung,” he says breathlessly. “Hyung—Hyung’s awake! Guys, he’s awake!”

And like a bursting dam, the teary-eyed members of Kim Dokja’s Company flood into the room, no doubt having idled right outside the door this whole time.

“Ahjussi!” Shin Yoosung wails, diving in for a hug before rearing back when she remembers his injuries. Kim Dokja laughs lightly, dropping his hand on her head and ruffling affectionately, doing the same to Lee Gilyoung with his other.

“Fucking finally! Let me at him!” Han Sooyoung leaps for him, before being pulled back by the collar by Yoo Sangah.

“Dokja-ssi, that was reckless of you,” Yoo Sangah says softly. Han Sooyoung goes limp in her hold.

“Dokja-ssi,” Lee Hyunsung says with glistening eyes. “Why didn’t you let me come with? I would’ve protected you too.”

Shin Yoosung’s face crumples. “And me. I could’ve tamed those monsters, so why?”

“This response is a bit extreme, isn’t it?” Kim Dokja says as lightly as he can. “I mean, we’ve all been injured before.”

There’s a collective moment of hesitation, where no one seems to breathe.

“We watched it back, you know,” Lee Jihye says in a tight voice that trembles faintly. “Since Master wouldn’t tell us anything.”

“Watched what?”

“The stream.”

Kim Dokja goes cold, his eyes darting from their faces to the empty space between them.

“Oh,” he says quietly, ears ringing with the echoes of his own debauched screams.

“Stop that,” snaps Han Sooyoung. “Whatever you have going on in that head of yours, tell it to fuck off.”

Kim Dokja doesn’t know how to do that. All he knows how to do is smother it with something else, with a story louder than his own.

“I hated it,” Jung Heewon cuts in. “I hated every second of that goddamn video, you know. And most of all I hate the fact that you don’t look the least bit regretful right now.”

“I…” Kim Dokja doesn’t know what to say. There’s nothing he could say to something like that. He feels himself shrinking under all these reprimanding glares. Somehow, he’d foolishly been expecting a somewhat warmer welcome than this. 

He stares down at his hands, limp in his lap. Like always, he feels small.

A gentle hand touches his shoulder. “Dokja-ssi.”

Kim Dokja looks up at Yoo Sangah, whose smile is kind. 

“Thank you for relying on Joonghyuk-ssi.”

His companions each leave their own heartfelt sentiments, some angry and some sad, talking and talking until their voices start to overlap in petty squabbling in the same way their conversations always end. It’s a familiar thing. They bicker and laugh and cry a little, and refuse to leave his side even when Lee Seolhwa bursts in angrily with chastises on her lips but just ends up watching on fondly.

The clamor is just loud enough to drown out the one inside his head.

From further back, Yoo Joonghyuk stands and watches him steadily. And Kim Dokja looks back, at the protagonist whose story he followed for all these years.

The Yoo Joonghyuk he knew would’ve left the moment he set Kim Dokja down, leaving him to wake up alone.

The Yoo Joonghyuk he knows is still here, watching him like he’ll disappear if he doesn’t. This Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t let him wake up alone. 

Around him, his companions bicker and laugh and cry a little.

Ah, thinks Kim Dokja.

So this is what it’s like.

His eyes feel warm.

The sounds fade slightly around him before he can realize it. “Ahjussi?” Shin Yoosung whispers, soft and careful. Yoo Sangah looks at him too with an expression so gentle it almost hurts—and so does Jung Heewon, and then everyone else.

His cheek tickles faintly. Absently, he reaches up and his fingers come away wet.

“Oh. Oh, I…” He hides his eyes behind the back of his hand.

“Sorry,” weeps Kim Dokja with trembling shoulders. “Sorry, I just…”

I’m really happy.

“I’m gonna call in Yoo Joonghyuk now.”

“No,” Kim Dokja blurts out, surprising himself with how loud it is. His cheeks go pink.

“I think you at least owe him a conversation,” Yoo Sangah prods gently.

“I don’t want to.” Kim Dokja almost crosses his arms before he remembers how much it’d hurt, so he settles for dropping back against the pillows stubbornly.

“You can’t keep avoiding him forever,” Jung Heewon sighs. “You guys are life and death companions, whatever that means.”

“I know, I know, I just…!” Kim Dokja flails a hand frantically. “I’m not mentally or emotionally ready yet, okay??”

“You’re never gonna be ready,” she says blandly before poking her head out the door. “YOO JOONGHYUK!”

“Heewon-ssi!” Kim Dokja shrieks.

Yoo Joonghyuk stands stiffly at the doorway.

They stare at each other silently.

“Hey,” Kim Dokja tries, wincing at the way his voice cracks. He swallows drily and clears his throat.

Yoo Joonghyuk regards him with an unreadable gaze. Then he walks closer, past Kim Dokja, and reaches for the pitcher and empty glass at his bedside. 

Kim Dokja watches as his companion mechanically picks up the pitcher. Pours water into the glass. Sets the pitcher down. Picks up the glass.

Holds it out to Kim Dokja. 

“Water,” says Yoo Joonghyuk.

Kim Dokja stares blankly at the glass.

“Water,” says Yoo Joonghyuk, again.

“I can see that,” Kim Dokja snaps. “Why are you giving it to me?”

Yoo Joonghyuk looks at him like he’s mentally ill. “For you to drink.”

Kim Dokja blinks. “Oh. For me? Oh.”

He takes the glass. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Yoo Joonghyuk staring at him intensely as he lifts the rim to his lips.

As he thought, Yoo Joonghyuk’s being suspiciously nice. Did he drug the water? Poison it? He supposes he can deal with the consequences at a later time.

Kim Dokja lowers the glass to his lap, cupping it gently. He doesn’t know what to say, so he says nothing. Yoo Joonghyuk isn’t one to talk much, so he doesn’t say anything either. They sit for a while in—well, Kim Dokja isn’t entirely sure whether this is supposed to be comfortable or uncomfortable silence.

He sneaks a peek at Yoo Joonghyuk’s side profile, his heart twisting at the cuts littering what little skin he shows—his face, his neck, his hands and wrists. The bandages covering his knuckles.

Yoo Joonghyuk glances at him before Kim Dokja can glance away. “What?” he says quietly. Not gruffly or angrily, just quietly. It startles Kim Dokja more than it would’ve otherwise, so he quickly looks away. “Nothing.”

His companion hums lowly, the doubt plain in his voice. Kim Dokja decides hastily to change the subject.

“How—” His voice cracks again. He takes another sip from the glass before continuing. “How did you find your way out?” Kim Dokja smiles lightly. “It would’ve taken hours without proper navigation. So how did you do it?”

Yoo Joonghyuk looks at the opposite wall. “I walked.”

A brief pause. It sinks in, what he means in that vague reply. “Oh, but you—” Thin fingers squeeze around that cold glass. “But you were so hurt.”

Yoo Joonghyuk shrugs with one shoulder. “I’ve seen much worse.”

Something ugly coils in Kim Dokja’s aching stomach.

“I’m sorry I was so useless to the end.” Kim Dokja’s voice sounds fragile even to himself.

Yoo Joonghyuk’s head swivels to look at him, so quickly that it makes him flinch. His mouth opens and closes a couple times, like he’s still thinking of what to say.

“We…” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice comes out somewhat strangled. “We made it out regardless. So I don’t care for apologies.”

Kim Dokja flinches again. “Oh,” he says in an even smaller voice.

There’s a sharp intake of breath from Yoo Joonghyuk. “That’s not—I didn’t mean—You misunderstand.”

He waits quietly for his companion to continue.

“In the future,” he starts haltingly, “I need you to. Not get in situations where you need to apologize.”

Kim Dokja doesn’t really get it. “Okay,” he says anyway.

Yoo Joonghyuk narrows his eyes at him. “You don’t get it.”

Kim Dokja shrugs helplessly.

“I—” Yoo Joonghyuk inhales deeply, exhales. “I don’t want to see you like that again. I refuse.”

Kim Dokja blinks. “Oh,” he says, more lightly this time, somewhat amused. He’s copying what Jung Heewon said, isn’t he? Or maybe Lee Hyunsung? “Oh, how sweet of you. I’ll keep that in mind, then, for the next time I somehow—”

“This isn’t a joke,” Yoo Joonghyuk spits, startling him. “You didn’t—” He slumps slightly, looking older and tired. “You didn’t see yourself.”

Yoo Joonghyuk looks…sad, thinks Kim Dokja. It’s not like the fierce and strong-hearted Yoo Joonghyuk he’s always been used to. This one is more like a downtrodden puppy, somehow. It’d be cute if it didn’t make his chest hurt so much.

Without thinking, Kim Dokja reaches out to pat his head.

There, there.

Yoo Joonghyuk stares at him.

Ah. Kim Dokja jerks his hand back, cheeks warming. “I didn’t—that wasn’t—that was a joke,” he blurts hastily and frantically. “Like, haha, Yoo Joonghyuk hates being touched. Y’know.” He buries his face in his hands. “God. I’m sorry.”

He wallows in self-pity for a moment before realizing Yoo Joonghyuk hasn’t responded. A bit scared, Kim Dokja peeks up from between his fingers.

Yoo Joonghyuk simply regards him evenly.

“I don’t mind this side of you,” he murmurs with the smallest smile.

Kim Dokja is so blinded by that fucking smile that the words don’t register for several full seconds. 

His heart flutters so fast it makes him dizzy for a second. This bastard, does he have any idea what kind of effect these kinds of words have? He plasters on a smile over his fluster and forces a short laugh, mentally kicking aside the nonsensical racing of his thoughts.

Yoo Joonghyuk stares at him with an eyebrow slightly raised.

Kim Dokja’s smile fades. “You’re being serious.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk sniffs.

“Are you blind or deaf or slow? Maybe all three? The Supreme King prefers this?” He gestures wildly to himself. “I’m—I’m weak, I’m helpless, I think slower, I can’t speak normally, I stop functioning at every stupid thing, don’t you hate it?”

“Kim Dokja is always a fool,” Yoo Joonghyuk says blandly as if it’s the single truth of the world.

Kim Dokja flares, his earlier fluster forgotten. “Must you take every chance you get just to insult me?”

The face Yoo Joonghyuk makes—anyone else would’ve mistaken it for irritation, but to Kim Dokja it looks stupidly smug.

“I hate you, you know?!” Kim Dokja bursts out, everything too much to hold in. “Gah! You’re so frustrating to talk to! I never said it before because I knew you’d beat me up but I think it! You with your dumbass male pride, and your—your stupidly handsome face—”

“Stupidly handsome face,” Yoo Joonghyuk echoes.

“Yes! No! No! Your face looks like you got run over by a tractor!”

Kim Dokja’s heart leaps to his throat when Yoo Joonghyuk sets one hand on the bed and leans in close. “Don’t I look handsome, Kim Dokja?”

He sees Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes glittering and crinkling just the slightest bit, and that’s when he knows he’s being mocked. 

It’s a fucking reference. An inside joke. He has inside jokes with the protagonist of Three Ways of Survival, apparently. The sick bastard is definitely getting enjoyment out of making fun of him.

With nowhere to run, Kim Dokja splays his hands over his eyes and reddened cheeks again as if it could somehow shield him from the effects of Yoo Joonghyuk. “Fuck you. I mean this so seriously. I hate you.”

He hears Yoo Joonghyuk let out a huff, which on anyone else might as well be a burst of unbridled laughter. Kim Dokja hides a small, suppressed smile behind his hands.

He feels the bed shift as Yoo Joonghyuk sits back, distant once again. “You can slap me, you know.”

Kim Dokja peeks between the gaps of his fingers. “Huh?”

“You know.” He looks away, out the window. “Like before. To complete the joke.”

Kim Dokja stares at him for a moment. His hands drop to his lap. “I’m not gonna slap you,” he mutters. He wrings his hands nervously, unable to look up. “I don’t think it’ll say the things I want to say.”

“Things you want to say,” Yoo Joonghyuk echoes quietly. The question isn’t spoken aloud, but it’s there.

“Y’know. Things like…” He swallows. Wrings his hands. Squeezes and unsqueezes the sheets. Wrings his hands some more. “Thanks. For saving someone like me.”

Yoo Joonghyuk closes his eyes briefly. He opens them.

“I had to repay my debt.”

Kim Dokja blinks owlishly. “For saving you? What time are you talking about?”

Yoo Joonghyuk stands up.

“Hey! Hey, what’re you talking about? Was there some debt you owed this whole time that I didn’t know about??”

Yoo Joonghyuk nonchalantly makes his way to the door.

“Hey, you bastard! If you really owed me then I wouldn’t have used it on this! Oi! Answer me!”

Kim Dokja’s indignant cries are muffled by the door closing behind him.

“Yoo Joonghyuk, stop ignoring me! I’ll kill you once I get my skills back, I swear!”

Yoo Joonghyuk lips twitch upwards as he listens to the shouts fade. Just once, he lets himself smile with something fond.

I think I was saved on the day we met.