Actions

Work Header

Moving Out of the Closet

Summary:

Yoo Joonghyuk meets his neighbour Kim Dokja, who at first glance seems to be living in what he thought was the building's janitor's closet.

Notes:

For October I’m posting a chapter a day of various trash fics that have been collecting dust on my PC that I’m not really happy with but maybe someone else will enjoy! This is pretty much just no-scenarios generic domestic tropes loosely strung together in a pretty bog standard fic but after the novel I needed a bit of that. Also realised I haven’t written any kind of proper pairing fic in years? Feeling a bit rusty.

Chapter 1: First Meetings

Chapter Text

 

There was a strange man standing outside of Yoo Joonghyuk’s apartment.

He pulled out his phone, prepared to dial the police, and approached slowly. The man was fumbling in his pockets, a grocery bag from the nearby convenience store hanging awkwardly in the crook of his elbow. He hadn’t noticed he was being watched yet as he cursed softly.

“Hey,” Yoo Joonghyuk said.

The man jumped, startled, and glanced over at him. He tensed, shoulders hunching, but only dipped his head in a slight greeting, and returned to digging through his pockets.

Yoo Joonghyuk frowned. “Hey,” he said again.

The man glanced back at him. He looked like a standard salaryman, thin and rumpled from the day’s work, with pale skin and plain black hair and dark eyes an odd shade that made them look almost grey. “Yes?” he asked, not quite so much nervous as wary. After a moment, he blinked, and glanced at Yoo Joonghyuk’s door. “Oh, uh, I didn’t realise. I’ll get out of your way. Sorry, just, I can’t find my phone.” He took a few steps away, towards the end of the hallway.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” Yoo Joonghyuk threatened.

“What do I- I live here? I’m your neighbour. Have been for…” He squinted, peering into the middle distance. “Maybe five months?”

Yoo Joonghyuk stared. His neighbours were a middle-aged couple who thankfully didn’t know the first thing about games or streaming, and had an adult son who was away on military service for another year. He glanced towards their door.

The man shook his head, exasperated. “No, not them. Your other neighbour.”

Yoo Joonghyuk scowled. “I don’t have any other neighbours.”

“Uh, you do though. You have me.”

“I’ve never seen you before.”

The man’s brow creased. “Well, I guess we haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Kim Dokja.”

“Only child?”

His shoulders drooped and he sighed heavily. “Yes, but… never mind.” He returned to digging through his pockets, before finally retrieving a phone, sighing with relief.

“Don’t ignore me,” Yoo Joonghyuk growled, stepping closer. “And tell me who are you already.”

“What- I told you! Your neighbour, Kim Dokja!” He pointed at the door at the end of the hall, a few steps away. “Here, I’ll show you.” He stalked over to the door, shielded the number pad with his hand as he entered the keycode, jiggled the doorknob a few times, pushed his shoulder against it, then the door swung open.

Yoo Joonghyuk stared. He’d always assumed that door led to a janitor’s closet, or some kind of storage. It didn’t match any of the other doors on the third floor, didn’t have a nameplate, didn’t have a doorbell with a camera and intercom. Did the apartment even have windows? Based on the layout of his apartment, it couldn’t even stretch the whole length of the building – Yoo Joonghyuk’s bedroom was a corner one, with both north and west facing windows. “Is that even big enough to live in?”

Kim Dokja hunched his shoulders. His voice came through stronger now – indignation stripping away his earlier shyness. “Excuse me for not being able to afford to live in a palace? This isn’t a cheap neighbourhood, you know? It’s good enough to sleep in. It doesn’t leak, and it has security, and electricity, and running water.”

That was an alarmingly basic list of living requirements.

Still, his suspicion began to cool. Kim Dokja, it seemed, really was his neighbour, and not some suspicious loitering fan trying to stalk him or break in or install hidden cameras. Yoo Joonghyuk hadn’t had much to do with the building’s landlord past the initial lease signing, but Gong Pildu struck him as the kind of man who would wring every cent of value out his land. On reflection, it wasn’t surprising that he might take any shred of unused space on the building’s floor plans and find some way to get rent out of it.

“Fine. Don’t cause any trouble,” Yoo Joonghyuk finally settled on.

Kim Dokja sputtered. “Excuse me? You’re telling me this now? I’ve been here five months without causing trouble! You didn’t even know I lived here! Ah, forget it,” he grumbled. “I’d say it was nice to meet you, Yoo Joonghyuk, but it wasn’t.”

“I never told you my name.”

Kim Dokja scowled. “You’re famous? Sue me for recognising your stupidly perfect face. You know you’re on billboards, right?”

Yoo Joonghyuk glared at him. ‘Stupidly perfect?’

The other man huffed, stepping across his threshold. “Excuse me, then,” he declared with false politeness so thick as to be sarcastic, and rudely slammed the door shut behind him.

Annoying. Yoo Joonghyuk turned back to his own door. Still, as far as meeting people who recognised him went, especially for a neighbour, Kim Dokja’s reaction wasn’t the worst one.

Besides, they’d somehow gone without meeting for five months. The chances of him coming across Kim Dokja again with any regularity were vanishingly small. There was no more point wasting time thinking about it.

 


 

Yoo Joonghyuk saw Kim Dokja again less than a week later.

Yoo Mia wanted cookies. Specifically, rather than the much superior cookies Yoo Joonghyuk had made that weekend, she wanted a store-bought brand that was running some promotion with free phone charms that was apparently all the rage at her school currently, so she could trade with her friends.

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t really understand the appeal, but she’d brought home a good report card that day, so after dinner he slipped on a plain black hoodie and a facemask, then headed out to go to the nearest convenience store. He didn’t usually bother going to it, because he did all the shopping he needed at the grocery store, but it wasn’t worth the longer walk for a single pack of cookies.

He stepped inside, and the first thing he saw under the harsh, flickering fluorescent lights was Kim Dokja staring at a row of discounted kimbap like they held all the secrets of the universe.

It was in the same aisle as the snacks. Yoo Joonghyuk glared, but shouldered past anyway. Kim Dokja didn’t even react at first beyond a brief irritated glance, which quickly turned into a double take when he saw who was responsible. “Yoo Joonghyuk?”

Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze darted to the cashier, who luckily hadn’t noticed. “Shut up.”

Kim Dokja followed his line of thought a moment later. “Oh.” For a moment, Yoo Joonghyuk was sure that was to be the end of it. But Kim Dokja glanced between him and the cashier several times, as though debating whether to say anything.

“What is it? Spit it out,” Yoo Joonghyuk ordered, when it looked like the man was about to settle on minding his own business after all.

Kim Dokja flinched at his tone, but seemed to find his courage a moment later. “Just, do you really think they won’t recognise you when you checkout? That’s not exactly much of a disguise.”

“It’s always been enough everywhere else,” Yoo Joonghyuk grumbled. In fact, he was a little surprised Kim Dokja had recognised him with one glance – he usually only got spotted by ardent fans, at which point he generally didn’t return to those stores again. He perused the row of sweets, and finally found the right pack of cookies.

“Right. Sure. Of course. But, just entertain me here, have you looked at the posters behind the counter right now?”

Yoo Joonghyuk looked.

Blazoned on a 2-metre-tall poster behind the counter was his face, staring at the camera, with electric green lightning in the background and cans of energy drink in the foreground. It was repeated again on the smaller placards above the drink fridges, and again in an A4-sized flyer on the shop window.

He didn’t even remember that campaign. That was to say, he remembered doing the product placement on one of his streams, and getting paid for it, and at some point attending a photo session, but he left the particulars to his agent in the management company he paid to handle his PR and accounts. Shit.

He considered his odds. Was there any chance the cashier still wouldn’t recognise him if they spent half their shift staring at his face?

It wasn’t worth it. He moved to put the cookies back, when Kim Dokja caught his hand. It was hard to tell who was more surprised by the gesture.

“Um- I’ll check it out for you. Is it just this? Also, you’re paying for it, just so we’re clear,” he muttered. Before Yoo Joonghyuk could protest, Kim Dokja snatched the cookies and shuffled to the counter with them and his three kimbap.

Yoo Joonghyuk checked his hoodie and mask were secure and moved outside, head down. It was paranoid, maybe, but he’d had enough annoying run ins with fans that he didn’t want to chance it – especially not somewhere so close to home.

Kim Dokja followed him out a moment later, bag on his arm. He fished out the cookies. “2600 won,” he said.

“It was 2200,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, and handed over a 5000 won note. It was the smallest he had.

“Oh was it? My mistake,” Kim Dokja said, opening his wallet and slipping the note in.

Yoo Joonghyuk eyed the rest of the contents of the plastic bag hanging on his neighbour’s elbow. Three kimbap, all from the nearly expired section, discounted to 500 won each. In fact, the cookies were more than what Kim Dokja had spent on his entire dinner.

It had been a nice gesture by his neighbour – in any other situation Yoo Joonghyuk wouldn’t have even asked. But the sheer irritation Kim Dokja inspired in him had him flatly demanding, “Change.”

“You’re real cheap, you know that?” Kim Dokja dropped a few coins into his hand.

Yoo Joonghyuk checked it, and his eyebrow twitched. “Can you not do the math? 2800 won.”

“Not even a service fee? It’s only a few extra won,” he wheedled. This guy – that timid and withdrawn aura suddenly disappeared when a bit of money was involved?

“I didn’t ask you to. You decided on your own. And that’s more than double what it cost in the first place.”

“I don’t have the exact right change-”

Yoo Joonghyuk snatched his wallet from his hand. Kim Dokja squawked, and made to grab it back, but Yoo Joonghyuk was both taller and quicker, twisting to block him with his shoulder. He counted out the coins and snapped the wallet closed again. “2800 won,” he repeated, showing the coins in his hand, and slipping them into his pocket. He shoved the wallet back into Kim Dokja’s chest – the other man stumbling back with the force of it.

“You jerk! Hey! See if I ever do you a favour again!” Kim Dokja complained.

Yoo Joonghyuk ignored him, turning to head home, cookies in hand.

Of course, Yoo Joonghyuk had forgotten – they were neighbours, which meant they were walking home to the same place. Kim Dokja caught back up with him in moments, ambling along next to him, venting his displeasure.

“I wonder what the internet would say if they knew how cheap you are. And how violent. I was going to give you the change anyway, I was just messing with you.” The man nattered on like a con artist. “I could make the money back other ways, anyway, and it would serve you right. How much do you think your fans would pay to know your address- Urk!”

Yoo Joonghyuk had wheeled on him, grabbing his shirt, glowering. Kim Dokja held up his hands in defence, frantically waving. “Kidding, kidding! I’m your neighbour, remember? I don’t want hordes of your crazy fans breaking into our building any more than you do!”

Suspicious, Yoo Joonghyuk relaxed his grip, then a moment later let go. Kim Dokja smoothed his shirt down, and remained blissfully silent for the rest of the walk home.

 


 

Annoyingly, after that encounter, Yoo Joonghyuk seemed to run into Kim Dokja everywhere. He’d go to drop off his garbage, and cross paths with his neighbour coming home from work. He’d leave his apartment in the morning to go for a jog, and Kim Dokja would be running to the subway. He went to his grocery store one Sunday, and Kim Dokja was there, dressed in an oversized white t-shirt and loose dark blue cardigan and jeans. It was the first time Yoo Joonghyuk had seen him in anything other than his work clothes. His eyes followed the exposed curve of his collarbone, to the nape of his neck, to his fake polite smile, and he was abruptly irritated.

He loomed over him. “Are you stalking me?” Yoo Joonghyuk demanded.

Kim Dokja backed up against the shelf of instant noodles to match his glare better. “Um, excuse me? This is the grocery store closest to my apartment? Do we really need to do this again?”

“I’ve never seen you here before.”

“How can you see anything? You don’t exactly look around when you’re trying to be incognito. Actually, aren’t you worried about that here? Sorry, but I don’t have enough money to buy your huge basket of groceries. Unless you wanna pay a service fee this time?”

“Unnecessary. I’ve been coming here for a long time.” The staff all seemed to be perilously close to retirement, and even the one or two who recognised him had treated it with the same sort of dull excitement and confusion as someone they recognised from a toothpaste commercial. And avoiding the notice of other customers was easy enough, so long as he didn’t shop in the busiest periods. Yoo Joonghyuk was famous, but he wasn’t a household name.

Kim Dokja had a point though, so he backed up, then glanced at the shabby contents of his neighbour’s basket. Instant noodles, eggs, rice, and nothing else. “What kind of bachelor’s shopping list is this? Are you trying to die of scurvy?”

“Is that any of your business? I don’t exactly have time to cook, you know? And who are you calling a bachelor, huh? That’s awfully presumptuous.”

Yoo Joonghyuk raised an eyebrow. “You’re not?”

Kim Dokja swelled up, squaring his shoulders, and Yoo Joonghyuk was immediately certain that the next words out of his mouth were going to be a lie. “I’ll have you know I-” He caught sight of Yoo Joonghyuk’s dubious expression, and seemed to deflate before his eyes. “Okay, fine, I am, but that’s not any of your business either, you know? So what if I’m alone.” There was an edge to the words that made Yoo Joonghyuk wonder if he’d just stepped on a landmine. Kim Dokja barrelled on regardless, as though he could cover up the awkwardness by burying it with more words. “And it’s rude to just assume. Not all of us are famous pro gamers you know, we can’t all have beautiful girlfriends-”

“I am too,” Yoo Joonghyuk cut in, reflexively, then frowned. He hadn’t intended to share that, but then, they were neighbours, so it wasn’t like Kim Dokja wouldn’t notice eventually.

His neighbour blinked dumbly at him, eyes dark and wide. “Huh?”

Yoo Joonghyuk pointed at his basket. “I’m single too, but you don’t see me shopping like that. Buy some vegetables, fool.”

It broke the odd spell. Kim Dokja huffed, stalked over to the refrigerators, and grabbed a tub of the cheapest kimchi. “There, are you happy? I won’t die of scurvy.”

Yoo Joonghyuk scoffed, and went back to his own shopping. “Idiot bastard.”

“Hey! Who are you calling a bastard? You stupid sunfish!”

“What kind of insult is that?”

“One that suits you. It’s the stupidest animal I can think of. Ah, but it’s much more handsome than you are, so it’s really a compliment.”

“You called my face perfect before.”

Unexpectedly, Kim Dokja flushed. The red ran all the way down his neck and lit up his ears. “Perfectly stupid.” He scowled, and stalked past. “This is my precious day off. I don’t have time to be talking to you.”

“We’re going to the same place,” Yoo Joonghyuk reminded him.

It was too late, though – Kim Dokja had fled to the checkouts, and Yoo Joonghyuk hadn’t finished shopping. By the time he had, and returned to his apartment, the door at the end of the hall was already firmly shut.

That was what he’d wanted in the first place, he told himself. But he was still irrationally bothered.

Kim Dokja was annoying.

 

 

Chapter 2: Drinking Party

Notes:

Forgot to mention last chapter because sleepy, but special thanks to the marvellous Mythril this fic wouldn’t exist without her prodding and ideas and encouragement and feedback.

Chapter Text

 

 

“Yoo Joonghyuk-nim, what about this one? Are you sure you don’t want anything else?” Some pompous executive was boisterously pushing another bottle in his face. In front of him sat an array of untouched appetisers. Next to him, his agent hurried to intercept.

“Ah, Yoo Joonghyuk-nim is a competitor, you understand, like many professional athletes he is very particular about what he drinks and eats-”

“Oh is that so, very admirable! I suppose such talent does require some sacrifices after all, hahaha! What a shame though, it doesn’t seem like much fun! Please though, order anything that you feel like!”

Yoo Joonghyuk ignored him. “Bathroom,” he said, excusing himself.

“Oh, Yoo Joonghyuk-nim, I can show you where-”

“Unnecessary,” he interrupted, and stepped out of the room before anyone else could latch on.

At least fans he ran into in public would normally stop at bothering him for a picture. Fans working for companies he did sponsorship deals or paid promotions with always seemed to think that gave them the right to be extra annoying. He already regretted going along with this. The deal was signed – this was just a bothersome waste of time, a formality and social obligation that his agent had somehow convinced him was important.

He visited the washroom, taking his time and enjoying the moment of privacy. It wasn’t until he left it, heading back to the group, that he spotted the ongoing thorn in the side of his life.

“Kim Dokja?”

The man in question stopped in the hallway. “Yoo Joonghyuk?” he glanced around. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s my question,” Yoo Joonghyuk growled, stepping close, until he was backing the shady bastard against the wall. See him run away this time. “You are stalking me.”

“What- me? Aren’t you the stalker here?” Kim Dokja sputtered. “I don’t even want be here. I’m normally home by now.” He narrowed his eyes at him. “Wait, you’re not normally out either. Don’t you live with your little sister?”

“She’s at a friend’s,” Yoo Joonghyuk said. He stared at him, at his loosened tie, and flushed cheeks, and started putting the pieces together. “You work for Minosoft?”

“Yes? How do you-” Kim Dokja finally caught on. “You’re the bigwig streamer they signed to do the promotion?”

“You really didn’t know?”

“I’m on contract! I’m basically a glorified intern for the QA department. You think anyone tells me what goes on in this company?” He grumbled, and loosened his tie further. “So they forced you into this stupid drinking party too huh? Even famous pro gamers can’t get out of these sorts of things. Ah, but you’re a celebrity, so they’re probably all fawning over you. They put you in the VIP room, after all. The rest of us aren’t even allowed in there.”

“I’d prefer if they just watched me play,” Yoo Joonghyuk admitted.

Kim Dokja stared. “What’s this? You compete in front of thousands of people but you secretly hate attention? Ah, but I should have guessed. You always dress like a criminal when you’re out, instead of like… like a graphics card box.” He gestured vaguely at the black and electric green zip up sweater Yoo Joonghyuk was wearing – the same one he wore on stream, and any other official business.

Yoo Joonghyuk folded his arms. “Technically, the box was designed after my brand.”

Kim Dokja blinked slowly at him, then suddenly broke into a smile – a genuine one, and it was startling to realise it was the first time he’d seen it, the way it lit up his whole face and made his eyes sparkle like stars. “Hah! Haha! I didn’t even- I was just making a joke, I didn’t realise there was actually-!” His words dissolved into breathless laughs. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re even real.”

The moment was broken by one of the other employees coming out into the hallway. “Ah, Yoo Joonghyuk-nim, there you are – oh, Kim Dokja-ssi? Ah, he isn’t bothering you, is he-?”

As quick as it came, the Kim Dokja he’d just witnessed vanished – his shoulders hunched, his eyes dulled, he seemed to become smaller. “Excuse me,” he muttered gloomily, and slipped past, to the bathroom Yoo Joonghyuk had just come from.

Yoo Joonghyuk watched him go, perplexed and vaguely displeased. It was like, in an instant, the Kim Dokja he’d become used to had vanished, and replaced with an even more standoffish, sour version of the neighbour he’d first caught in front of his apartment.

He’d seen more than one new face on Kim Dokja that night.

“Sorry to rush you, Yoo Joonghyuk-nim, but we were about to order mains so-”

“I’m coming,” he said, and turned to follow them back to the room. He’d worry about it later.

 


 

The drinking party dragged on. Yoo Joonghyuk answered dozens of banal questions, glared at anyone who encroached too close on his personal space, and accepted a single bottle of beer which he proceeded to nurse for the next hour and a half. It was the absolute bare minimum necessary to not completely alienate everyone in the room, but the more the beer and soju flowed the less anyone cared about manners or propriety. He’d weathered more than one drinking party or awards ceremony with strangers using the same strategy. It hadn’t backfired yet.

He wondered what Kim Dokja was doing in the next room.

Which Kim Dokja was in there? Was he laughing, his whole face lit up, his shoulders loose and his tie looser as his cheeks grew rosy from alcohol? Or was he hunched and quiet in the corner fumbling to pour soju for his seniors? Or was he irreverent and talkative and shamelessly stealing food off other people’s plates right in front of them?

He could picture all three. All versions would be more interesting than listening to his agent telling the same story about one of Yoo Joonghyuk’s tournament wins for the twentieth time.

It had been long enough, he decided. Everyone was jovial, and distracted, and the food was mostly finished. Yoo Joonghyuk knocked back the last dregs of his long-lukewarm beer, and stood to leave. “I have to head out. Early start tomorrow.” It was a lie, but a socially acceptable one.

“On a weekend? Pro gamers have it rough, don’t they?”

“Ah, Yoo Joonghyuk-nim, before you go, if you could sign this-”

“Just one photo with everyone! For the company newsletter!”

He bore the circus with forced patience, until his agent finally took pity on him and intervened, and he at last managed to slip out of the room without anyone trying to follow. Once in the hallway, he hesitated, then impulsively turned towards the other raucous room at the back.

They lived in the same building. It only made sense to share a cab home with Kim Dokja. If he didn’t at least offer, his annoying neighbour would probably endlessly complain about it the next time they crossed paths.

He didn’t even make it there though – the door opened as he approached, and one of the wait staff – a woman wearing slacks and white shirt with an apron, black hair done up in a business-like bun - was guiding the exact man he’d been going to see out of the room.

“Kim Dokja?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked. It hadn’t even been two hours, and the man looked absolutely wrecked. The woman was half-supporting him as he lurched out of the room. He stepped forward to take him from her. “Here, I’ve got him.”

She eyed him judgingly. “Dokja-ssi, do you know this man?”

He raised his head from where he was focusing extremely hard on his feet and squinted at him. “Yoo Joonghyuk? But I’m at work, what’re you doing here-”

“We already went over this. I came to get you. We’re sharing a cab back.” Seeing the other man’s state had changed it from a question to an order.

“I can’t afford a cab, ‘m going to catch the subway-”

“As though you’d pay for the cab anyway,” Yoo Joonghyuk scoffed.

“Ah, you do know him,” the woman decided, and all but shoved him into Yoo Joonghyuk’s arms.

Kim Dokja stumbled forward, crashing into his chest, and then slowly started to sink. “Wow your chest is r’ly firm,” he mumbled, muffled, into the fabric of his sweater.

Yoo Joonghyuk grabbed his arm and dragged it over his shoulder – half holding him up, half helping him keep his balance. “He’s not real, you know,” Kim Dokja told the woman from his new position. She just seemed amused as she watched them. “Look at him. He’s… he’s not real.”

“Sure, Dokja-ssi.” To Yoo Joonghyuk, she said, “You take proper care of this guy, okay?”

“You know him?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked. He’d assumed from her clothes that she worked for the establishment, but she seemed too familiar with him.

“Tch, he helped me out once with a customer that was getting a little too bold. His company are regulars here, but he’s an anti-social idiot who usually sneaks out of these things early. I’d get him out of here myself, but I’ve still got work, and he seems to actually like you, so you’ll have to do instead.”

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t know where she got that from, but he grunted in acknowledgement, adjusted his grip, and started steering them for the door.

Kim Dokja suddenly struggled against him though, reaching out to catch the woman’s sleeve. “Heewon-ssi – you’ll make sure-”

“I would anyway,” she said fiercely. “She’ll be fine. Worry about yourself, idiot.”

Yoo Joonghyuk half-led, half-dragged his stumbling neighbour to the exit. “Walk properly,” he grunted.

“I’m trying. I’m sorry. Can’t even do one thing right-”

“You’re drunk. You fool. How did you even let it get this far at a work party? Don’t you know how to hold your drink?”

“Department Head Han is a creep. He was trying to get Yoo Sangah-ssi drunk,” Kim Dokja slurred. “And- and all the other guys too. Vultures.”

“And your solution was… to drink all of her drinks instead?”

“Drink ‘em under the table,” Kim Dokja mumbled into his shoulder. “They can’t try shit then.”

“The only one who’s been drunk under the table here is you.” He adjusted his grip around Kim Dokja’s waist, and the other man leaned his weight against him, a bulwark of unnatural warmth.

“Yoo Sangah-ssi shouldn’t have to deal with that,” he muttered, then raised his head and tried to poke at Yoo Joonghyuk’s cheek and missed completely. “How did- How did your thing go, though? You’re not even… ah don’t tell me, you’re such a cool guy you can even hold your drink like a pro?”

“I only had one beer.”

“They let you get away with that?” Kim Dokja’s shock was outsized, and he stumbled. Yoo Joonghyuk grunted, bearing the extra weight. “Ahhh, when you’re beautiful and famous and rich it’s not weird or anti-social, it just makes you eccentric. Unfair. When I try not to drink I’m just…” His words melted into mumbles.

“Kim Dokja, shut up,” Yoo Joonghyuk said. Luckily, there were already cabs waiting out front, ready to whisk drunken patrons away. He helped his neighbour to the front one, bundling him inside, folding his legs in when he left them hanging out.

You shut up,” Kim Dokja retorted, a full twenty seconds late. Yoo Joonghyuk ignored him, slamming the door shut and moving around to the other side. He got in, gave the driver their address, then took the seatbelt Kim Dokja was blindly stabbing into the seat and clicked it into the buckle. “I had it!”

“You didn’t.”

The other man folded his arms in a sulk. Yoo Joonghyuk, well used to Yoo Mia’s sulks, ignored it like the seasoned pro he was. Still, as the bright city signs flew past, painting the car interior in rolling light and shadow, he was conscious of Kim Dokja’s heavy, unrelenting gaze. He risked a glance, and met two dark, half-lidded eyes. They seemed impossibly, unfathomably deep. Like staring into an abyss.

Yoo Joonghyuk turned away, and fixed his attention firmly on the scenery outside.

He hated the way Kim Dokja could make him inexplicably self-conscious. It was a foreign sensation, one left behind long ago in insecure adolescence.

At some point, that heavy gaze finally drifted away. Ten long minutes passed peacefully, and the peculiar tension began to ease from Yoo Joonghyuk’s shoulders. The car was quiet but for the rumble of the engine, the low murmur of the radio from the front, and the erratic beep of the cab’s price meter. Thankfully, the driver didn’t try for conversation.

Still, it was surprising for Kim Dokja to stay silent for so long. When Yoo Joonghyuk finally glanced back over, he had the answer why – his eyes were closed, his head turned and resting against the car seat, mouth very slightly open. He’d fallen asleep.

Kim Dokja had shown him a third new face that night. His eyelashes brushing his still-rosy cheeks, his expression the most relaxed he’d ever seen it, the long slow fall and rise of his chest, his pale fingers curled loosely in his lap around his phone.

Yoo Joonghyuk stared. This annoying neighbour – when he wasn’t glaring, or making those insincere smiles, he wasn’t such an ugly guy.

“Is this it?” The cab driver’s voice shattered the moment, and Yoo Joonghyuk tore his gaze away. They were pulling up in front of their shared apartment building. It was late, and the foyer was dark.

“This is it,” he confirmed, then turned back to his seatmate. “Kim Dokja. Wake up.”

He didn’t stir.

Yoo Joonghyuk reached out, and shook him by the shoulder. This time, Kim Dokja grunted, and opened his eyes a sliver. “We’re here. Get out.”

Kim Dokja stared at him for a long moment, but fumbled for the door. By the time Yoo Joonghyuk had paid the driver and headed to the other side of the car, all he’d managed to do was open it. Yoo Joonghyuk sighed, reached in, grabbed his arm, and hauled him to his feet.

“You got him? He’s about done, I think,” the cab driver noted.

“It’s fine.” He shut the door and dragged his uncooperative cargo to the sidewalk.

The dismissal was enough, and the car peeled off back into the night. Yoo Joonghyuk was left standing under the streetlights with Kim Dokja sagging against his side, seemingly doing his very best to fall asleep standing up. He’d hoped the cab ride would give him some time to sober up, but instead it seemed they were both the losers of that race.

“Kim Dokja,” he said.

“’m sorry. I need… a minute.”

Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t interested in standing out in the cold night air for a drunk man’s definition of a minute. He sighed, and with a little effort, hoisted Kim Dokja onto his back.

“Wha- Yoo Joonghyuk?”

“What, you want to be left in the gutter? Shut up, Kim Dokja.” His neighbour was surprisingly light – it wasn’t effortless, but it would be easy enough to carry him that short distance to their doors.

Whatever protests the other man might have had were evidently quickly given up on. He clutched ineffectively at Yoo Joonghyuk’s sweater with one arm, fingers dragging at the fabric, the other hanging uselessly limp. Yoo Joonghyuk wound up half-shifting his weight to accommodate, and a moment later, his neighbour’s head dropped onto his shoulder, his hair tickling his ear and his breath faintly warm against his neck.

Stoically, Yoo Joonghyuk swiped his access card, and the foyer doors unlocked and automatically whirred open. “If you throw up on my sweater, I’m sending you the bill,” he warned.

Kim Dokja just mumbled in response. It sounded a lot like ‘sunfish bastard’.

The short ride in the elevator and the walk to the end of the third-floor hall seemed to last forever. Yoo Joonghyuk determinedly plodded past his doorway and came to a stop in front of his neighbour’s.

“Kim Dokja. What’s your room code?”

“Hnnnn?”

“Your room code,” he repeated louder.

“Ah…. 9158.”

“Hash or star?”

“S’ar.”

Yoo Joonghyuk entered it. The lock beeped. The handle jammed, and the door stuck on the frame, but with sheer force he was able to push it open.

It took some staggering and fumbling before he found a light switch – Kim Dokja, of course, was no help, beyond some incoherent mumbling and vague hand gestures. The small space filled with dim yellow light.

It was his first time inside Kim Dokja’s bizarre apartment.

Given his personality, and his bachelorhood, he’d expected a pigsty, or at least a room crammed full of mess, with every spare surface used.

Instead, it was astoundingly clean. There wasn’t even the expected layer of dust in the corners.

More than that, though, it was eerily empty.

It was incredibly cramped, as expected, and from the entrance where he toed off his shoes, he could see the entire place. One step past the foyer was a narrow kitchen, just large enough for a sink, a hot plate, and a cheap travel size rice cooker. It was tidy but for a lone white mug in the sink. Just beyond that was a short hallway with a sliding door he assumed hid a closet, before it opened up into a single room. Most of that was taken up by a simple bed mat on the floor, a plain blanket folded neatly by its feet. There was a phone charger plugged into the wall, a small pile of old books and free magazines stacked in one corner, a worn backpack slumped in the other. Opposite the bed, a makeshift clothes rack hung precariously from the wall, with dress shirts and jackets and slacks lined up neatly. A cloth set of hanging draws dangled awkwardly at one end, with underwear and socks and pyjamas and t-shirts stacked and folded tidily within.

Yoo Joonghyuk knew the man was frugal, and that it was astonishingly expensive to live alone in Seoul, but this seemed a bit much. No desk, no pictures, not even a television? It felt more like a prison cell than a home.

Granted, a contract job in the QA department at a place like Minosoft wasn’t likely to pay for anything better, especially not in this part of town, but most people who had the option would live with their family until they were ready to marry. Those who didn’t, mostly students or workers who’d come to the city from regional areas, found roommates to share with. There were boarding houses and other solutions. So why then did Kim Dokja insist on living like this?

It wasn’t any of his business. He crouched, letting Kim Dokja’s weight slide off his back onto the bed mat. He wasn’t quite unconscious, but his head rolled and his eyelashes fluttered, so Yoo Joonghyuk propped him against the wall. He unlaced the man’s shoes, tugged them off, and tossed them back towards the foyer. He grabbed his tie and gently teased it the rest of the way loose, and tossed that aside too.

He thought he should get him a bucket, though, in case he needed to throw up. Yoo Joonghyuk headed to the cupboard, only to discover that it was in fact the bathroom – a shower cubicle so small he wasn’t sure if he’d able to turn around in it, and a toilet so narrow that that toilet roll could function as an armrest.

No buckets were hiding in there – there wasn’t room for anything. He returned to the kitchen, and eventually settled for some empty garbage bags to place in easy reach. He grabbed the mug from the sink, rinsed it and filled it with water, and padded back to where Kim Dokja was slumped against the wall.

“Drink,” he ordered, kneeling down and thrusting the mug in his neighbour’s face. Kim Dokja blinked blearily at it, and made a half-hearted attempt for the handle.

Yoo Joonghyuk sighed, and held the mug to his lips. “Drink,” he repeated. “You’ll thank me in the morning.” He stared, as Kim Dokja’s pale throat worked, as a line of water escaped, running a clear track from the edge of his lips to curve down the delicate line of his chin and then neck, carefully tilting the mug until it was finally empty. He clenched his fist in the fabric of his pants for a moment, before consciously relaxing it and turning his attention back to pertinent matters. “Jacket off,” he ordered. He rolled the jacket off his shoulders, Kim Dokja lethargically lifting his arms free of the sleeves. Yoo Joonghyuk took it as well, and then helped him lie down, being careful to turn him on his side, just in case. “Go to sleep, Kim Dokja.”

He turned, hung the jacket with the rest of the clothes, then took his neighbour’s phone from the pocket and plugged it into the charger in the wall. He headed back to the kitchen in search of painkillers. Most of the cupboards were empty of anything other than rice and instant noodles, but he finally stumbled on a fully stocked first aid kit. It was barely used – when he opened it, nearly everything was still sealed in sterile packaging - but given the minimalism of everything else in the apartment it was confusing to come across.

Kim Dokja was a cautious guy, he supposed. It didn’t bear much thinking about – Yoo Joonghyuk grabbed some headache tablets from it, refilled the mug, and set both next to the bed.

That was everything, he decided. More than he should have had to do, but Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t particularly like leaving a task half-finished.

Still, he stood there for another minute more, silently staring down at Kim Dokja, splayed sleeping on the bed mat, hair tousled by his pillow, edge of his mouth still wet.

This quiet, strangely pliant form of his neighbour was unnerving in ways Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t articulate.

That peculiar tension began to seep back into his shoulders.

He shrugged it off, let his gaze rove once more over the narrow, empty apartment, then turned and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

 

 

Chapter 3: Babysitting

Notes:

Trashtober still going can't stop won't stop why do I create made up challenges for myself why am I stupid.

Anyway here's Yoo Mia.

Chapter Text

 

 

Yoo Joonghyuk only saw Kim Dokja once since the encounter at Minosoft’s drinking party – where his neighbour had blushed, profusely apologised, then more or less ran away, though it might have simply been because he was late for work.

The next time he saw him properly was a Sunday. Yoo Joonghyuk had been finishing up a daytime stream while Yoo Mia was out at the park with her friend – with the plan that they would return home before dark and eat dinner together, spend the night, and leave for school together the next day.

He’d only just finished the stream and started to move into the kitchen to start dinner prep when the sound of children’s’ voices echoing in the hallway caught his attention. He hadn’t expected Yoo Mia to be back so early. He opened the front door, to the sight of his sister clinging to the back of a grown man, and immediately contemplated murder.

The man in question flinched, stepping backwards. “Y-Yoo Joonghyuk. Hello?” He plastered a shady, nervous smile on his face.

…It was only Kim Dokja. Kim Dokja, who was red-faced and very visibly struggling under his sister’s weight, though doing his utmost best to pretend otherwise.

Still, if there wasn’t a good explanation for this… “Mia, what are you doing?” he asked.

She kicked her leg at him from her perch on Kim Dokja’s back. “I tripped and hurt my ankle, oppa. Ahjussi gave me a piggyback ride home.” She sounded smug about it.

Yoo Joonghyuk felt a little sorry for Kim Dokja, then – the park was a ten-minute walk away even normally.

“It was my fault, I’m sorry!” Shin Yoosung was there too, peeking out from behind his neighbour’s legs.

“It doesn’t seem serious, but I didn’t want her walking on it,” Kim Dokja offered, still looking wary. “Um, should I-”

Yoo Joonghyuk opened the door wider. “Bring her in.”

Kim Dokja kept that fake smile plastered on his face even as he looked like he was stepping into the lion’s den. Yoo Joonghyuk pointed to the couch, while he detoured back to the kitchen to fetch the first aid kit and an icepack.

“It doesn’t look too bad at all, I bet you’ll be back on your feet in no time,” Kim Dokja was saying as he and Yoosung helped Mia settle on the couch. “Though you want to get your shoe off just in case it swells. Yoosung-ah, want to help?”

He hung back, watching, as Kim Dokja kept both girls occupied with some story about a similar injury he suffered that even Yoo Joonghyuk could tell had been heavily edited. He only moved forward when his neighbour glanced up and caught his eye. “Ah, your brother will fix it properly, though, right?”

“Oppa is the best,” Yoo Mia told him drolly. “He can carry me a lot further than that without getting tired.”

Kim Dokja just laughed, and something in Yoo Joonghyuk’s chest stuttered. “I bet he could, couldn’t he?” He moved aside to make room.

Yoo Joonghyuk crouched in front of her with the ice pack. As Kim Dokja said, it didn’t look too bad, though it was still a little early to tell how much it might swell. He held her ankle carefully and frowned at her. He was glad, of course, that she had help, but- “Why didn’t you just call?”

“I didn’t want to bother you. Plus ahjussi was there,” she said with a shrug.

“You shouldn’t be accepting help from strange men,” he warned.

“Ehhhh, but he’s our neighbour? Isn’t he your friend? I hear you two talking in the hallway all the time,” she complained. “And Yoosung was with me, so it wasn’t like I was alone.”

He was surprised she even knew him, considering how long Yoo Joonghyuk had gone without noticing his neighbour. But did he really cross paths with Kim Dokja that much? He tried to remember when Yoo Mia would have ever seen them together. Sometimes they exchanged a few words when crossing paths in the hallway, but that was usually more Kim Dokja calling him a stupid sunfish and Yoo Joonghyuk criticising his poor diet, as evidenced by the quality of the trash he brought in and out of his apartment.

“You should listen to your brother though,” Kim Dokja said gently. “It was okay this time, but it’s good advice in general.”

Yoo Mia just rolled her eyes. “Obviously.” She turned her attention back to her big brother imperiously. “What are we having for dinner then?”

“I’d barely started,” he told her. “You’re back early. What did you two want?”

“Yoosung?” Yoo Mia asked.

Shin Yoosung smiled sunnily at her. “Everything your brother makes is delicious, Mia! My mother likes having you over just because he sends food with you! Oh, but I don’t think I was supposed to say that…”

“Bibimbap, then,” Yoo Mia commanded.

It was healthy, at least. “Fine. Are you two hungry now?” They both nodded eagerly. “We’ll eat early. Hold that on your ankle until the cold is gone, then we’ll wrap it. You can watch TV.” He handed Shin Yoosung the remote.

Kim Dokja shifted awkwardly in place, and started edging towards the door. “I’ll be going then,” he muttered.

Yoo Joonghyuk thought of Kim Dokja sitting alone in the empty apartment next door eating instant noodles while the rest of them ate dinner together, and something unpleasant turned in his gut.

He caught him by the back of his shirt. Kim Dokja choked, and stumbled. “Wha-”

“You’re staying for dinner.”

“Huh?”

“Ahjussi, you’re staying?” Shin Yoosung asked brightly. Yoo Joonghyuk could see the instant Kim Dokja’s resolve to deny it broke under the girl’s hopeful gaze. Kids – they latched onto anyone new who gave them the slightest bit of attention.

“I… guess?” He looked entirely bewildered by this sudden turn of events. Yoo Joonghyuk took advantage of it to steer him into the kitchen and point imperiously at a cutting board, where some carrots were already waiting.

“Peel those.” He let him go, and turned his attention to pulling more ingredients out of the fridge, already mentally adjusting the amounts for four.

Kim Dokja, of course, once out of eyesight of Shin Yoosung’s judgement, immediately tried to escape. “Ah, actually, you really don’t have to you know, I know you value your space-”

“You can’t peel a carrot?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked.

Kim Dokja was immediately offended. “Of course I can!” He picked up the peeler and got to work.

“Good. At least this way I can make sure you won’t die of scurvy, fool,” Yoo Joonghyuk grunted.

“Are you still worried about that? I’ve lived this long, Yoo Joonghyuk, I don’t think it’s a problem.” He laughed, again. It was his normal laugh – the one that was fake, and faintly bitter.

Maybe Yoo Mia had a point, if he knew Kim Dokja well enough to tell the difference.

“What happened, in the park?” he asked as he started preparing the beef.

“I didn’t see. I was just walking past when I saw Yoosung trying to help Mia to a park bench. I suggested she call you, actually, but your sister didn’t want to interrupt your stream?” He discarded the peels, and started on julienning the carrots. “But leaving sprains for too long just makes them worse, so I decided it was better that she got home quickly.”

“Thank you for looking out for her,” Yoo Joonghyuk said.

The sound of the knife paused for a moment on the other side of the kitchen before resuming. “Ah, well, I owe you, you know? For the Minosoft party. I don’t really remember it that well honestly so… sorry, again, for the trouble. Hopefully I didn’t say anything strange?”

“Nothing more than the usual stupid drivel that comes out of your mouth.”

“Hey!”

“Are you still doing the carrots?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked. “You’re slow.”

“Nothing but criticism. I’m tired, okay? Your sister is… perfectly light and not heavy at all,” he quickly adjusted at Yoo Joonghyuk’s stare, and glanced over at where he’d already finished the marinade and was busy salting the zucchini. “Hey, what are you, a chef? Isn’t it that you’re the fast one?” He handed over the carrots to also be salted.

Yoo Joonghyuk scoffed, casting a critical eye over his work. They were cut meticulously uniform, even by his standards. He’d been worried, for a moment, about what kind of disaster Kim Dokja might be in the kitchen, given the sad contents of his grocery baskets. But it seemed the man was at least perfectly capable of following instructions, even if he went about it far too slowly. He tossed him the spinach. “Cut that next.”

“Bossy sunfish bastard,” he muttered, but the kitchen fell into comfortable silence as they worked.

Dinner itself was lively, thanks mostly to Kim Dokja asking Yoo Mia questions to get blackmail on Yoo Joonghyuk, and then prodding Shin Yoosung along on a lengthy series of stories about her dog which then turned into a commentary on dog breeds in general and ended in Yoo Mia badgering Yoo Joonghyuk for a dog which he shut down hard with the reminder that their apartment complex didn’t allow pets. Then somehow he was pestered into sitting in the living room to watch some fantasy adventure Yoo Joonghyuk had zero interest in, but Kim Dokja had apparently read the web novel of so was similarly ordered to stay for. They sat on opposite ends of the couch, while the girls sat on cushions on the floor.

The show was, as predicted, terrible. Still, watching Kim Dokja’s face contort in reaction to the developments on screen was entertaining enough.

Once the credits started rolling, though, their guest was quick to his feet. “I should get going. Thank you for dinner.”

“You helped make it,” Yoo Joonghyuk reminded him, mostly to be difficult.

Kim Dokja made a face at him. “I was trying to be polite you bas- you sunfish. As always, it’s wasted on you.”

“Bye ahjussi, come play with us next time!” Yoosung called. “Mia, aren’t you going to say bye?”

“He lives next door, he’s barely going anywhere,” Mia said, gaze still fixed on the TV, but gave a half-hearted wave all the same.

Kim Dokja just awkwardly nodded farewell, and darted out the door.

 

 


 

 

Winter arrived in a blast of cold wind and icy flurries. With it came a wave of competitions, cluttering up Yoo Joonghyuk’s schedule and consuming his every spare moment with practice.

With it also came the usual ailments of winter.

Yoo Joonghyuk eyed the thermometer in his hand, and ran a gentle thumb across Mia’s forehead. The temperature wasn’t worrying – not worth going to the doctor for - but it was still higher than he was comfortable with.

Still, he’d done all he could – rest and medicine, rice porridge and yuja tea, humidifier on. If he’d noticed sooner… but his sister could be stubborn in her own way, not wanting to worry him, muffling her coughs in her pillow, keeping to her room until Yoo Joonghyuk had ordered her out for lunch and she couldn’t hide it anymore. It was the same logic that had her refusing to call him when she sprained her ankle in the park.

At least it was the weekend, and she hadn’t tried going to school sick like last winter.

Still, he had a competition that night – finals, and a team event at that. Forfeiting the prize didn’t particularly matter to him in the face of Mia’s comfort, but it would make headlines, and break two of his sponsorship contracts – and some of his teammates needed the match more than he did. Even losing was better than a no-show.

His sister was more than old enough to be left on her own for a few hours usually, and any time he was going to be home particularly late these days, she spent the night at Yoosung’s house. Yoo Joonghyuk had been careful not to abuse the arrangement, despite both girls’ apparent enthusiasm for it, repaying the favour on the rare occasions he could and sending over food with Mia to lessen the burden. Sending her over there sick though – that was something he couldn’t do.

It was too short notice to find a sitter that would pass his background checks. He refused to trust his sister to a stranger. But there was no one who…

Yoo Joonghyuk moved into the hallway without properly thinking about it, and knocked on his neighbour’s door. There was no answer, so he knocked harder. “Kim Dokja, I know you’re in there.”

A moment later, the door swung open, revealing Kim Dokja dressed in his usual Sunday casual outfit. “Yoo Joonghyuk? What do you want?” He looked wary.

“I need a favour,” he said.

Kim Dokja looked as though Yoo Joonghyuk had just told him the apocalypse had arrived. “A… favour? You… are asking me… for a favour?”

Yoo Joonghyuk crossed his arms. “Will you help or not?”

“It depends what it is? I’m not signing up to a deal without knowing what it is. What if you wanted my organs? My blood? What if you’re secretly a vampire? Or-”

Ire rising, Yoo Joonghyuk interrupted him before he could get rolling. “Mia’s sick, and I have an event tonight. Can you watch her?”

“What?”

“Is it a problem?” Yoo Joonghyuk really didn’t want to forfeit, but he would do it, for Mia.

“No, I’ll do it, I’m just… I’m surprised you’d trust me with your little sister?” Kim Dokja looked confused.

“You gave her a 10-minute piggyback ride home because she hurt her ankle. She’s already decided you’re trustworthy,” Yoo Joonghyuk reminded him.

“Well, yes, that was her, but I was worried you were going to actually murder me for a minute when you saw us?” Kim Dokja pointed out, apparently completely ignoring that Yoo Joonghyuk had invited him to stay for dinner afterward.

Annoying. “She’ll probably the sleep the whole time. I only need someone to keep an eye on her, in case her fever spikes, and fetch her things if she wakes up.” He paused, and offered, “I’ll pay you. Same rate as what I would pay a normal sitter.”

“Shit, do you really think- she’s just gonna be sleeping, right? I already said I’ll do it. It’s not like I was doing anything anyway.” Kim Dokja stepped out, and followed Yoo Joonghyuk the five steps to his apartment. “The great Yoo Joonghyuk is asking me for a favour, that’s all the payment I need.”

He eyed him suspiciously. “Who are you and what did you do with Kim Dokja?”

“Har har. It’s a good thing you’re so good at games because you’d never make it as a stand-up comedian.”

He resisted the urge to rise to Kim Dokja’s poor taunts. Instead, he pointed out everything he might need. “There’s yuja tea in that thermos. Medicine is here, though don’t give her another dose for the next two hours. If she’s hungry, there’s rice porridge in the fridge that can be reheated.” He held out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

“Huh? What for?” Kim Dokja asked, holding it close like it was precious.

“My number. In case of emergency.”

“Oh.” He handed it over. Yoo Joonghyuk went to contacts, entered his number, and hit ring. Once his phone began to vibrate in his pocket, he ended the call and handed it back.

“Don’t abuse it,” Yoo Joonghyuk warned.

He gasped in mock offense. “I would never sell it on the internet, how dare you suggest such a thing?” Yoo Joonghyuk glared, and he waved him off. “Get going, already. Actually, give me the wifi password first.” Yoo Joonghyuk pointed at a strip of paper tacked onto the fridge. “SupremeKingTerrorOfStars1863? That’s… kind of chuuni of you? I know you’re a pro gamer, but you are 28, right? I didn’t imagine that?”

“How did you know-”

“You’re famous? You don’t think I didn’t look up your bio when I realised we were neighbours? It’s not stalking to check out someone’s public social media these days. Maybe don’t become a famous pro gamer if it bothers you. Speaking of, don’t you have somewhere to be?”

He wasn’t wrong. Yet… “I changed my mind. You can’t be trusted in my home after all.”

“Still with the bad jokes. Who is doing who a favour here? Go, shoo, murder all of your enemies.” Kim Dokja all but herded him out the door. “I’m cheering you on, okay? Get going, Yoo Joonghyuk.”

 

 


 

 

Yoo Joonghyuk let himself back in an hour after midnight, with bags full of prizes and confetti stuck in his hair.

“Welcome home,” Kim Dokja greeted him at the threshold. “Wow they really went to town, didn’t they? What, did they just back an entire gaming store up and unload it into your arms?”

Yoo Joonghyuk grunted in greeting, shouldered past and dumped the lot on the couch. “Mia?” he asked.

“She woke up once. Convinced her to have a little porridge and take some medicine, she asked after you, we watched your competition for a few minutes on my phone until she fell back asleep,” Kim Dokja reported, keeping his voice low. “Congratulations, by the way.”

Yoo Joonghyuk nodded, satisfied. It had been a good night, and the knowledge that his sister was fine as well meant even Kim Dokja’s special brand of irritation couldn’t reach him. “Thank you for looking after her.”

Kim Dokja waved it off. There was a ding from the kitchen at that moment – his kettle. Yoo Joonghyuk glanced at him.

“I was making tea,” Kim Dokja defended. “I didn’t know how much longer you were going to be. The competition only ended an hour ago.”

“You kept watching?”

“I didn’t have anything else to do.”

Yoo Joonghyuk went into the kitchen, pulling out a second mug. Kim Dokja had shamelessly dug out the most expensive leaves he had. “It’s too late for green tea,” he criticised.

“I wanted the caffeine, in case you were going to be even later.”

Yoo Joonghyuk swapped it out for a different kind and set it to steep, and started looking through his cupboards and fridge.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking to see what else you raided.”

“Hey!”

“Am I wrong?”

Kim Dokja stewed, and admitted, “I had some of the leftover kimchi fried rice in the fridge. It was good?” As though the compliment absolved him of it.

Yoo Joonghyuk checked. “You ate half of it.”

“…It was really good?”

“I don’t actually care, fool.” The tea was done, and he poured two cups, pushing one across the kitchen counter to his neighbour. “Here. Chamomile is better for bedtime.”

“Oh, what, I didn’t see this one. I’ve read this helps you sleep.”

“You’ve never had it?”

“They only have the normal kinds at the office.”

Yoo Joonghyuk shouldn’t have been surprised that Kim Dokja avoided even paying for his own tea leaves.

“It’s nice,” Kim Dokja said quietly after a few sips.

Yoo Joonghyuk hummed in agreement. It took the edge off the lingering adrenaline from the evenings’ matches.

They drank tea in the quiet kitchen in comfortable silence. Kim Dokja drained his cup first, setting it down with a tone of finality. “Thanks for the tea, but I should get going. I have work in the morning.”

For someone who shamelessly helped himself to leftovers and tea leaves and bothered him at every opportunity, Kim Dokja was always strangely eager and quick to leave whenever he was actually invited. Still, Yoo Joonghyuk simply nodded, following him to the door. “Thank you for looking after Mia.”

“You already thanked me. Like I said, I wasn’t doing anything anyway.” He slipped his shoes on, and smirked when he glanced at him. “You still have confetti in your hair you know.”

Yoo Joonghyuk frowned, running his hand through it.

“No, you missed it – ah let me.” Kim Dokja reached forward, unexpectedly, and plucked the shred of paper delicately from his hair.

Yoo Joonghyuk had frozen still, as their eyes met, the only thought running through his mind, ‘close’.

They stood at the threshold for a long moment, the silence heavy with an odd anticipation.

Kim Dokja broke away first, opening the door and stepping outside. “Goodnight, Yoo Joonghyuk.”

“Kim Dokja.”

He turned back, head tilted in question. “…Yes?”

“…Never mind. Goodnight.”

Kim Dokja nodded. Yoo Joonghyuk let the door fall shut between them.

 

 


 

 

The weird lingering mood from the previous night was helpfully wiped out by the end of the following day, thanks to his terrible mistake of giving Kim Dokja his phone number in what had seemed like a sensible decision at the time, but was clearly a moment of insanity.

‘Did you really already change your wifi password after yesterday? Cheap bastard.’

‘I offered to pay you to babysit and you wouldn’t accept it. Make up your mind.’

‘I can’t believe you trust me to watch your sister but you don’t trust me with your wifi password.’

‘The fact that you noticed proves you can’t be trusted. What’s wrong with your own wifi.’ Yoo Joonghyuk had been too much in a rush to question why Kim Dokja hadn’t been able to use his own in the first place – it wasn’t like he wouldn’t have been able to use it with only a wall between.

‘I don’t have wifi? I use the free service on the trains. And the neighbour’s downstairs who forgot to password protect theirs, but the connection is kind of bad two floors up.’

‘And you’re calling me cheap, you rat bastard?’

‘You’re rich! It’s different! I’m just being thrifty.’

‘Kim Dokja. Shut up.’

Kim Dokja was really annoying.

 

 

Chapter 4: Sickness

Notes:

I think what I really wanted in my heart was just to write some bog generic sick and drunk fic and all the rest here is the excuse.

Chapter Text

 

 

Yoo Joonghyuk stared into the darkness of his bedroom, utterly, annoyingly conscious that Kim Dokja’s bed was on the other side of the wall.

He’d lost more than a few hours of sleep to that knowledge over the past couple of weeks.

As neighbours went, Kim Dokja was actually incredibly quiet, which one would never guess if they spoke to the man in person. So much so that they’d lived next to each other for months before Yoo Joonghyuk even realised it.

He’d thought at first that the soundproofing must just have been exceptionally good. But they occasionally heard sounds of life from the neighbours on the other side. He could hear the murmur of their television from the kitchen, the occasional muffled conversation when it was quiet, the odd clatter and bang of pots and pans around mealtimes, all the normal signs of life that were easily backgrounded in apartment living.

Once he’d become aware of his other neighbour, he’d started to pay attention. He heard the door open and close, twice a day. Sometimes, the sound of water in the pipes, which he’d attributed to his other neighbours but now knew better. Occasionally, the muted beep of an alarm in the morning. Very little else.

Now, though, all he could hear was a rattling, persistent cough through his bedroom wall.

It confirmed, at least, that the apartment’s soundproofing wasn’t so above average after all.

He’d probably caught it from when he minded Yoo Mia a week ago. Yoo Joonghyuk had caught it as well, but shrugged it off within two days with little more than a stuffed nose and a sore throat which had been easily managed by off-the-shelf medication. He hadn’t even needed to take a break from streaming.

Kim Dokja, on the other hand, sounded like he was at death’s door.

Yoo Joonghyuk sighed, and threw back his blankets.

It was guilt, he told himself. Kim Dokja was sick now because he’d done him a favour. And more, he would never get to sleep listening to that racket all night. If Kim Dokja was too stupid to take medicine, Yoo Joonghyuk would make him.

He shrugged on a second shirt, then a sweater – even if he was only going next door, it had been snowing earlier, and it would only be colder in the dead of the night. He checked on Yoo Mia – comfortably asleep – then slipped out to the hallway. The sting of cold in the unheated corridor was sharp, and he hurried to his neighbour’s door, knocking twice.

“Kim Dokja,” he called, voice pitched low so as not to wake the whole floor.

There was no response. He hadn’t expected one. But he found himself thankful now that he already knew Kim Dokja’s door code. He quickly entered it and stepped inside.

The coughing sounded even worse without the dampening of a wall between them. It was bitterly cold. He quickly made his way to the back where Kim Dokja slept, flicking on the light switch as he went.

His annoying neighbour was curled tightly under a blanket and a pile of clothing and pressed against the wall. The pile shuddered as another cough cracked the silence.

“Kim Dokja.”

The blanket retreated enough for his neighbour to half poke his head out. “Yoo Joonghyuk?” he croaked, then coughed again, badly covering it at the last moment. “What are you doing here?” His voice was like broken gravel. Yoo Joonghyuk let out a displeased hiss between his teeth.

“Have you taken medicine?” he demanded.

“Ah, did my coughing disturb you? Sorry, I took a syrup, but… well, maybe it was expired… it’s not working very well,” he mumbled. He squinted at him. “Wait… how did you get in?”

“You gave me your door code last time.”

“Did I? Doesn’t sound like something I’d do…” His words broke off into another coughing fit, and his chest was heaving for breath afterwards. He dragged the blanket tighter around himself.

Yoo Joonghyuk watched the motion with a frown. It was nearly as cold inside the apartment, if Yoo Joonghyuk dared call it that, as it was outside. “You fool. Why isn’t your heating on?” There was being cheap, then there was being dangerously stupid.

Kim Dokja gave him a strange expression. “I don’t have heating? Or air-conditioning, either.”

Not even something as basic as that? Air-conditioning might have been a luxury, but heating wasn’t exactly optional in winter. “Idiot, how do your pipes not freeze?”

“That’s building management’s problem, not mine,” he mumbled, then badly smothered another cough. It sounded painful, dragging in his throat. “There’s heat enough, normally, from the unit downstairs. But it’s empty right now, I think? There was that leasing notice out the front last week.”

It seemed absurd they were even in the same complex. It didn’t matter how little rent they charged for this offcut converted closet, weren’t there minimum standards to be met?

That didn’t solve the immediate issue, though. Yoo Joonghyuk thought for a moment, then in one swift move ripped the blanket back and scooped Kim Dokja up in his arms.

“A-ah? Yoo Joonghyuk?” Kim Dokja yelped, before dissolving into another coughing fit.

“You’re staying at mine,” he said, swiftly heading to the door. He had to shuffle sideways to fit through the narrow kitchen with his neighbour in his arms.

“I don’t want to you to catch it-” Kim Dokja protested.

“Already caught it. But unlike some weak fools, I took care of myself and recovered quickly.” He shouldered the front door open. In only his pyjamas, Kim Dokja shivered violently as they stepped into the even colder hallway. “Bear with it for a moment,” Yoo Joonghyuk muttered. Entering his door code with his arms full was a trial, but he eventually managed, and the burst of warm air as they stepped past the threshold made it worth it.

He headed straight for his bedroom, dropping Kim Dokja onto the bed and wasting no time in getting him under the blankets, and then throwing another one of his spares on top. For good measure, he went to the thermostat, turning it up another couple of degrees.

He turned back, and something undefinable in his stomach curled, tight and satisfied, at the sight of Kim Dokja huddled in his bed.

Later. Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t an idiot, after all – Kim Dokja just caught him off guard, at the most unexpected times. “I’ll make some tea. Wait here.” As though his guest had the capability of doing anything else.

The kitchen was still, and silent, in the way only the dead of a winter’s night could be, the reverent hush barely broken by the soft burble of boiling water and the gentle clink of a spoon settling into a cup. Two spoonfuls of honey sweetened the citrusy fragrance of the yuja tea. It took a few moments to dig out the meds they’d been using the last week, then he swept back into the bedroom, closing the door tightly behind him.

“When did you last have the syrup?”

“What time is it now?”

“Just after midnight.”

“Hnnn… three hours ago?” There was note of uncertainty in his voice.

Close enough, especially if it had been expired. “Meds first, then tea, then sleep,” he decided, helping him sit up.

“You don’t have to-”

“Drink,” Yoo Joonghyuk ordered. Kim Dokja made a face, suppressed a cough, and took the pills and glass both. Once he’d finished them, Yoo Joonghyuk took the empty cup from his hands. “Good. Now sleep.”

“But… this is your bed, where…?”

“Unlike you, I have a perfectly comfortable couch.”

“It’s cold though.” Kim Dokja scrunched up his face. “I don’t want to kick you out of your own bed? Put me on the couch.”

“You’re sick. You need it more than I do.”

“I… that’s not…” His normally silver tongue had abandoned him in illness, clearly. The meds were doing their work quickly – and Kim Dokja had already been visibly exhausted. With his throat soothed by the tea and finally in proper warmth, he was fighting to stay awake.

Yoo Joonghyuk pushed him back down into the pillows. “Sleep, Kim Dokja,” he repeated. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

 


 

 

Yoo Joonghyuk did not sleep well on the couch. He was woken after a frankly disappointing amount of rest by his sister getting up for school. Normally he was up first so that breakfast and lunch could already be made for her – though Yoo Mia had simply lit up when he gave her money for both instead. “Thanks oppa! I hope that ugly ahjussi gets better soon!”

“Don’t just buy snacks,” he warned her, probably pointlessly. Yoo Mia did what she wanted most of the time anyway.

His morning routine thoroughly wrecked, he checked his calendar, and rescheduled the one stream he had planned for the day. It was supposed to be a quiet week anyway - intentional downtime following the punishing schedule of the last tournament. A brief glance in his bedroom showed Kim Dokja unmoving, a lump curled beneath the blankets, still quietly asleep. He went next door, found his phone, and called Minosoft for him. Then started making rice porridge, because who knew when the last time his idiot neighbour had eaten was.

He waited long enough for a bowl of it to cool to a comfortable temperature, then went to wake Kim Dokja up.

This time, though, when he checked on him, his neighbour had kicked off half the blankets he’d previously been curled up under. His face was flushed red, and his black hair clung wetly to his forehead.

Yoo Joonghyuk frowned, setting the porridge aside. He didn’t even need to check to know the idiot had a fever. He detoured back to the kitchen for a towel, a thermometer, and a cold compress.

When he started dabbing the sweat from his face, Kim Dokja’s eyes at last fluttered open. He stared into space for a long moment, before his dark gaze lazily wandered to Yoo Joonghyuk, and settled there. Thirty long seconds crawled by before he finally mumbled, “Yoo Joonghyuk?”

“Kim Dokja,” he greeted in response, and shoved the thermometer in his mouth.

It was testament to how out of it his neighbour must have been feeling that he didn’t react beyond a slow blink. His eyes roved the room, and squinted at the weak sliver of light leaking past the drawn blinds. Once Yoo Joonghyuk reclaimed the thermometer, he wet his lips and croaked, “What time-”

“10am.”

Kim Dokja stared blearily at him, then sat up as though in slow motion. “Wait, I have work-”

Yoo Joonghyuk pressed him back down. Kim Dokja collapsed back into bed far too easily. “I already called you in sick.”

“No- I’m contract, I can’t-” Kim Dokja had all the coordination of newborn kitten attempting to claw its way out of the blankets.

“Kim Dokja. Even if you somehow made it to work without collapsing, they would send you home immediately,” Yoo Joonghyuk warned him. “I already called you in anyway. It’s too late.”

His neighbour finally stopped struggling, defeated. He gazed at him far too long, then around the room again in bewilderment, as though only just registering where he was. “Where…?”

“You don’t have heating in your apartment. That’s not useful for recovering from sickness, fool.” He glared at the thermometer. The reading was alarmingly high – worse than Yoo Mia had been, barely shy of requiring medical attention. How much higher might it have been if his idiot neighbour had shivered his way through the whole night? Only Kim Dokja would somehow find a way to die of exposure indoors. “Don’t you remember?”

The crease in his neighbour’s brow suggested strongly that no, he didn’t.

“Never mind. I’ve got medicine and food. Eat, if you can handle it.”

In the throes of fever, Kim Dokja was lethargically compliant, though he only managed a few mouthfuls of porridge before he let the spoon idle in the bowl and his hand fall limp. Yoo Joonghyuk took it away before it could spill. It reminded him sharply of that night he’d dragged the man home drunk and put him to bed. He helped him lie back down, and was placing the cold compress on his forehead when Kim Dokja started coughing again, turning away, onto his side as he struggled to suppress it.

It went on for some minutes. Yoo Joonghyuk rubbed his back, waiting for the fit to subside. Kim Dokja’s shoulders shuddered, his spine arching under the sweep of his thumb as he curled up, as though hiding. He really was alarmingly warm. “You should see a doctor.”

“I’m fine,” Kim Dokja mumbled into the blankets once he got his breath back. He tucked his face beneath his palms, curling his fingers to shield himself from sight.

“You’re not,” Yoo Joonghyuk disagreed, but then, all a doctor would likely do was assign bed rest and care, maybe a script for some stronger medicine. Taking Kim Dokja out of the apartment into freezing temperatures would probably do more damage than waiting out the fever.

If it didn’t break by the next day, though, Yoo Joonghyuk would deliver him to a doctor whether Kim Dokja wanted it or not. “Hey,” he prodded, picking up the compress again. “You need this.” He pulled Kim Dokja’s hands clear from his head – then dropped them, startled by the tear tracks running down his face. “Are you-”

Kim Dokja looked away. “The coughing,” he croaked, which made Yoo Joonghyuk immediately certain that the coughing wasn’t the cause at all.

His gaze raked over his dishevelled form, looking for any other missed symptoms. Maybe a doctor visit should be imminent after all? “Are you hurting anywhere?” Kim Dokja shook his head. Yoo Joonghyuk frowned, and reached for the cold compress a third time. This time, at least, it settled over his neighbour’s brow without incident. He carefully towelled away the sweat soaking into the collar of his pyjamas. Kim Dokja covered his face again, as breathless, half-aborted coughs continued to escape his lips.

“…No one’s ever done this for me,” Kim Dokja eventually muttered weakly between coughs, as though sharing a shameful secret. “Not since…”

Was that why he was crying? In truth, Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t remember anyone doing it for him either – but then, he hadn’t been properly sick since he was a child. He’d always had a strong constitution, and his job wasn’t one that brought him into regular contact with the public. Getting sick was a rare event for him. “I have practice, with Mia,” was all he said, rather than acknowledging the vulnerability in those words. He could respect that under normal circumstances, Kim Dokja would never have uttered them. “You’re tired,” he excused. “Sleep will help you recover faster. Get as much as you can.” He stood to leave.

Kim Dokja caught Yoo Joonghyuk’s sleeve, though he only had the strength to grasp it for a moment. “What?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked. “You need something?”

“Ah. No. Sorry,” he whispered, fingers falling away.

Yoo Joonghyuk stared down at him, and sighed. He sat on the edge of the bed – Kim Dokja had rolled over enough for there to be room. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” Given his condition, he doubted it would take more than a few minutes for his troublesome neighbour to drift off again.

“You don’t have to-”

“It’s no trouble.” Yoo Joonghyuk lent against the headboard, nonchalant. “Don’t expect any entertainment, though.”

“Hn. Your face is… entertainment enough.”

Yoo Joonghyuk raised an eyebrow, glancing down at him.

“It’d be nice if this was real,” Kim Dokja mumbled.

“It’s real. You just have a fever, fool.”

“Wish… I could just… stay like this f’rever. It’s… nice. Thought you were a bastard, but you’re… so nice. And so… so cool.” His voice was shredded, an entire octave deeper than his usual airy lilt.

‘Nice’ was not a term Yoo Joonghyuk had ever been called before. He glanced away, abruptly uncomfortable. “You shouldn’t talk. It’s more strain on your throat.”

Naturally, Kim Dokja kept talking. “Couldn’t… believe it. When I found out that h’ndsome guy from the billboards…” he muttered, his words slow, sleepy and stilted. He coughed again. “N’ver expected… that you’d even remember my name. Wish it could… last… But someone like me can’t… I can’t…”

“…Can’t what, Kim Dokja?” There was no response. “Kim Dokja?” Carefully, he reached for the hand still shielding his face, and when he pulled it away, his eyes were closed, and his face relaxed.

Kim Dokja had fallen asleep.

Yoo Joonghyuk stared. “Fool,” he murmured, and stood to fetch another compress.

 

 


 

 

“I can’t take another day off work,” Kim Dokja bemoaned.

Yoo Joonghyuk ignored him. The day was half over as it was anyway. If he had his way, his neighbour wouldn’t go to work tomorrow, either.

Kim Dokja had spent most of the previous day and night slipping in and out of feverish delirium. It finally broke in the early hours, saving them both from an imminent trip to the doctor, if not the emergency room. He wasn’t interested in the man’s attempts at undoing that work.

“I appreciate you helping me out, but I’m fine now, so I can go back to my own apartment?” he bargained.

“Did you suddenly get heating in your apartment while you were sleeping?”

“…No?”

“Then you’re staying.” Yoo Joonghyuk collected the half empty bowl of rice porridge, but gave it a pointed look, and earned a shamefaced expression in response. That Kim Dokja still couldn’t finish it was commentary enough on his recovery.

“At least let me take the couch instead,” he reasoned, pausing briefly to stifle a cough. “You look like you haven’t slept.”

In truth, Yoo Joonghyuk had barely slept at all, monitoring his neighbour’s symptoms restlessly and unable to bring himself to leave his bedside even after his fever finally broke, for reasons he didn’t care to examine too closely, not until the immediate problem was dealt with. “It’s colder out there,” he dismissed. Still, with exhaustion dragging on his limbs, a nap wasn’t a bad idea. He eyed the bed, then eyed Kim Dokja.

Why not.

“Shove over,” Yoo Joonghyuk ordered. Confused, Kim Dokja did, and Yoo Joonghyuk kicked off his slippers and slid under the blankets. The mattress was still warm from his body heat.

“…E-excuse me?” Kim Dokja spluttered.

Yoo Joonghyuk shoved the pillow at his neighbour and tucked his own arm under his head. The bed was a queen size, western-style, but he would need to get a second pillow out of the cupboard. Later, though. “It’s more than big enough for us both. You barely take up any space anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

It meant Kim Dokja slept curled up like a child, in a way that probably wasn’t doing his back any favours but left three quarters of the bed free. “You were the one complaining.”

“But-”

“Shut up Kim Dokja,” he mumbled, already drifting off. “You’re staying.”

 

 


 

 

Despite Yoo Joonghyuk’s displeasure, Kim Dokja extricated himself from the apartment and went to work the next day.

Annoying as that was, it did give Yoo Joonghyuk the chance to finally to catch up on some of his neglected obligations. He answered a backlog of e-mails, updated his schedule, and finally did the delayed stream. Then he sat in his chair for one long hour, and spent far, far too much time thinking about Kim Dokja.

Kim Dokja treated him with a frankly disrespectful level of familiarity that made him feel as though they had been friends for years even though they’d only properly met a matter of months ago. He lied as easily as breathing with his words but was incredibly honest with his actions. He was hopeless and seemed to barely be able to take care of himself, but when it came to anyone else he was suddenly reliable. He would greedily steal everything he could and resolutely refuse anything he was given.

He was irritating in his contrariness. But he wasn’t bad looking, with delicate features and smooth skin and eyes you could get lost in and legs that never seemed to end. Yoo Joonghyuk had never thought he liked men, but he had become interested, after not being interested in anyone in years. The last had been Lee Seolwha, all the way back in his senior year of high school. She’d gone on to become a doctor, he’d heard. They’d broken up amicably while she was in college, lost touch, and he hadn’t had the urge to reconnect. And despite ample opportunities – Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t unaware that he had an awful lot of ‘face’ fans – no one had caught his attention since. Until now.

It was momentous enough that he couldn't deny it, or ignore it. It had grown too strong even without his attention.

Annoying. Not least because his ridiculous and inconvenient crush seemed determined to kill himself with self-neglect.

With that in mind, he made chicken soup with ginseng for dinner, then went to knock on his neighbour’s door. He waited a polite ten seconds, then keyed in the code and opened it.

Kim Dokja stuck his head out into the narrow hallway with a scowl. “Of course it’s you. Just letting yourself in now?”

“Were you pretending not to be home?”

“I was going to answer!”

“If you cared you would change your door code,” Yoo Joonghyuk pointed out. “It’s dinner. Come over. And bring your sleep clothes.”

“What?”

Seeing Kim Dokja’s lack of movement on the matter, Yoo Joonghyuk slipped off his shoes at the threshold and fetched them himself. After some consideration, he grabbed Kim Dokja’s work clothes as well. “Hurry up, or dinner will get cold. Mia’s waiting.”

“W-wait!” Kim Dokja stopped to suppress another coughing fit, then hurried after him. “Yoo Joonghyuk!”

In the end, he followed Yoo Joonghyuk back to his much warmer apartment, still complaining. “You know I do really appreciate everything you did, but this is too-”

“You still don’t have heating. You’re still sick. It’s going to get to -10 tonight. You’re staying,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, in a tone that allowed no argument. He went and set Kim Dokja’s clothes on a spare shelf in his closet and came back to the kitchen, where Yoo Mia was staring his neighbour down with her usual deadpan.

“Is he gonna be over here all the time now?” she asked, in a tone of voice that implied that she didn’t particularly care either way. She wasn’t even a teenager yet, but was already moving into that phase of wanting nothing to do with the adults in her life and spending all of her time in her room on her phone with her friends.

“Whenever it’s below freezing,” Yoo Joonghyuk answered.

“So all of winter then,” she remarked.

Yoo Joonghyuk made a vague sound of agreement. Kim Dokja made a strangled noise in his throat.

Yoo Mia stared at him, then smirked.

 

 

 

Chapter 5: Roommates

Notes:

Cutting it increasingly close on my daily challenge as I frantically try to edit chapters to be readable after work.

Chapter Text

 

 

Yoo Joonghyuk gave Kim Dokja their door code. Kim Dokja proceeded to not use it, leaving Yoo Joonghyuk to all but physically drag him over nearly every night. It took two weeks of that and an actual blizzard for Kim Dokja to sheepishly let himself in clutching a change of clothes and his phone charger.

“Just until this weather clears,” Kim Dokja promised.

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t respond, consumed in the process of popcorn flavouring. Yoo Mia waved from her spot in front of the television. “Shut up, ahjussi, the ad break is nearly over.”

“You really are siblings,” he muttered as he sank onto the couch behind her and started mindlessly scrolling through his phone. By now, Yoo Joonghyuk had learned that Kim Dokja was a voracious reader of just about anything he could get his hands on, which meant, given his cheapness, mostly free trashy webnovels.

That reminded him. “How did you get the wifi password again?”

“Social engineering,” Kim Dokja replied. At Yoo Joonghyuk’s stare, he expanded, “I asked Yoo Mia.”

Yoo Mia held up her hand distractedly, and Kim Dokja obligingly reached forward to give her a high-five.

“Hm.”

“Don’t blame me,” Yoo Mia complained. “You gave him the door code .”

She had a point. Yoo Joonghyuk split the popcorn into two bowls. “Kim Dokja, did you eat dinner?” It was later than he normally got home.

“Kimbap.”

“From the convenience store again?”

“Where else?” he grumbled, then answered the implied question. “The subway was running late. Snow delays on some of the lines.”

Yoo Mia perked up. “Do you think school will be closed tomorrow?”

“Weather report said it’ll pass by morning. Don’t get your hopes up,” Yoo Joonghyuk warned. Then to Kim Dokja, “We have leftovers.” He’d cooked assuming Kim Dokja would be there, but when he’d knocked on his door, the apartment had still been dark and empty.

Kim Dokja waved him off. “The kimbap was enough.”

Yoo Joonghyuk frowned, but dropped it. It was enough that for once, Kim Dokja had come over without having to be dragged here for his own good. It seemed his idiot wasn’t quite stupid enough to try to get through a blizzard without heating when he had other options.

He took the bowls of popcorn, handed one to Yoo Mia, then sat down on the couch next to Kim Dokja, close enough that their thighs touched.

Kim Dokja leaned away, glancing up from his phone to glare. “Personal space? There’s a whole other half of the couch, why are you sitting in the middle?”

Yoo Joonghyuk just threw his arm over the back and offered the bowl of popcorn. “It's easier to share."

"Just put it between?"

"It's my couch," Yoo Joonghyuk retorted flatly. 

Kim Dokja glowered, but took a handful of popcorn, shoved it obnoxiously into his mouth as though in challenge, and turned his attention back to whatever webnovel he was reading. As expected, he eventually got absorbed, relaxing back into the soft couch cushion, settling so close Yoo Joonghyuk could feel the warmth radiating from his side.

Outside, the blizzard howled. Inside, the apartment was warm and inviting like a hug, with the scent of buttery popcorn hanging in the air and the soft blanket of murmurs from the television.

Yoo Joonghyuk tapped at his knee restlessly as another ad break started. “Stop that, you’ll spill it,” Kim Dokja chided him, shifting the bowl onto his lap instead.

Yoo Mia glanced back at him. “Hnnn? Oppa’s in a good mood,” she remarked.

“How can you tell?” Kim Dokja grumbled. “Is that special sibling powers?”

Yoo Mia just grinned between mouthfuls of popcorn.

 

 


 

 

Kim Dokja’s tiny, converted apartment didn’t have a bathtub – its second worst feature, right behind the lack of heating. Yoo Joonghyuk had seized on that, and after the usual irritating back and forth, convinced his neighbour to use theirs instead of relying on the nearest public one that was inconveniently far away. It wasn’t hard – after all, it saved Kim Dokja money, and the man liked to self-pamper. He moisturized, even, which for someone so cheap said a lot about where it laid on his priorities.

The etiquette normally would have been for Kim Dokja to go first, as a guest, then Yoo Joonghyuk, then Yoo Mia as the youngest, but practicality won out – Yoo Mia had the earliest bedtime, so went first. Yoo Joonghyuk often streamed or practiced gaming until late, so he usually went last. The routine had settled in quickly, within a matter of days.

So it was a surprise to them both when Yoo Joonghyuk was relaxing in the bath, and Kim Dokja stepped into the bathroom with his clothes over his arm.

His neighbour had his phone in his hand, attention caught by something on it, so didn’t even notice until he’d already closed and locked the door behind him, turned back around, and Yoo Joonghyuk said, “Kim Dokja?”

He startled, a full body flinch that had him scrambling and nearly dropping his phone. “Y-y-yoo Joonghyuk? What are you doing here?”

Oh. A frisson of disappointment ran through him, which he pushed aside – it had been an irrational idea in the first place, considering who he was dealing with. There was no way Kim Dokja would ever be that forward. “It was empty,” Yoo Joonghyuk explained. “I thought you were already done.”

“I got distracted! Reading,” Kim Dokja mumbled, turning and fumbling blindly for the door again. “Excuse me I’ll-”

“No, I’m finished,” Yoo Joonghyuk interrupted, rising from the bathtub, water sluicing down his legs as he stepped out. “Pass me my towel.”

Kim Dokja squeaked. Squeaked. Like a startled rabbit.

Yoo Joonghyuk kept his expression carefully blank. This almost made up for his earlier disappointment.

Flustered, Kim Dokja snatched the first towel on the rack and thrust it towards Yoo Joonghyuk with an air of desperately fake indifference and nerveless fingers. Those dark eyes darted to his bare chest, and away again, and Yoo Joonghyuk could see his struggle to keep his gaze up, away, and it wasn’t just the swirling steam turning Kim Dokja’s face red.

Yoo Joonghyuk stepped closer – in arm’s reach, the bathroom wasn’t that big – and plucked the towel from his hands. Watched Kim Dokja try not to watch from the corner of his eyes as he towelled his chest and arms dry, at the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, the way his fingers tightened around his forgotten phone.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” Kim Dokja accused. His voice was strangled.

“Doing what on purpose?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked, as he took pity on his neighbour and finally wrapped the towel around his waist.

Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t unaware he had a good body – he exercised in the mornings, ate well, and could attribute the rest to good genes. Enough people had commented on it before without seeing him naked. But to see Kim Dokja react…

“You really have no shame,” Kim Dokja said, and even he looked embarrassed at how his words came out breathless instead of admonishing, and the shock of it seemed to finally make him look away. His next words came out steadier. “I know we’re both men but still have a little propriety, hmm?”

“You’re the one who barged in,” Yoo Joonghyuk pointed out.

“That-! I would have-! You-!” Kim Dokja blustered.

The reaction was too much, for someone who’d completed military service. Yoo Joonghyuk’s ego didn’t particularly need the help, but a bit of assurance never went awry. He’d made a few assumptions about Kim Dokja. It didn’t hurt to have them confirmed.

He leaned in close. Kim Dokja went still, as the leftover steam swirled around them like a misty cloak.

“Bathroom’s all yours,” Yoo Joonghyuk murmured, and unlocked the door.

It had been worth it. Even if Kim Dokja spent the next three days showering at his own apartment instead.

 

 


 

 

They had arrangements, even if they were arrived at informally. One of those was that Yoo Joonghyuk did the cooking. He liked cooking, and was good at it, and his schedule was one that left him time for it. It had the added benefit that he could ensure that his annoying idiot of a crush would eat properly and not die of scurvy.

Except occasionally Kim Dokja did get home early, or had the day off, and for some reason on those days, insisted on helping.

It would have be fine if he'd just stuck to cutting vegetables. It might have even been enjoyable. Unfortunately, his neighbour frequently had other ideas.

Kim Dokja tried, and failed, to elbow Yoo Joonghyuk aside. “Let me cook! I’m not a leech!”

“You are a leech.”

“Well, I’m trying not to be? What’s your problem anyway?”

“Your cooking is irritating.”

My cooking? You ate my dumplings with no complaints last time! You even said they were good! You’re the one who just tosses everything into a pot and it magically turns out fabulous! There’s nothing wrong with using a recipe!” He meticulously started shaking out salt into a tiny measuring spoon.

“What are you doing? That’s unnecessary.”

“The recipe calls for a pinch of salt, and a pinch is 1/16th of a teaspoon-”

Yoo Joonghyuk snatched the salt from him, and shook it over the bowl. "This is why you're slow. We won't eat until midnight if we do it your way."

“Don’t just toss it in there! You’ll ruin it! That’s too much.”

“It’s fine,” Yoo Joonghyuk dismissed. “More of the sugar will even it out.”

“It… really? Where does it say that?” Kim Dokja started scrolling through the recipe on his phone intently.

“It’s obvious, fool.”

“You’re so annoying,” Kim Dokja complained. Yoo Joonghyuk patted him on the hip, and he automatically shifted to the side to make room for him to reach around for the draw. “And your personal space problem is getting worse.”

“We literally share a bed,” Yoo Joonghyuk pointed out.

“That’s-” Kim Dokja’s face turned the colour of the sunset. It was an attractive shade on him. “Should I-”

“You don’t snore and you sleep like the dead. It’s fine,” Yoo Joonghyuk said before Kim Dokja could spiral his way into trying to sleep on the couch again, or worse, his own icebox of a live-in closet. He tossed a handful of sliced cabbage into the bowl, then cracked an egg one handed over it.

Kim Dokja scowled, only now realising that Yoo Joonghyuk had effectively taken over all of the cooking tasks he’d been doing while he’d been distracted. “You bastard,” he muttered, but just went to the sink to start loading the dishes into the dishwasher instead. He seemed to get some unending joy out of using the dishwasher, so Yoo Joonghyuk let him have it without contest. “Don’t ask me to cook if you’re just going to take it over every time.”

“I never asked you.”

Kim Dokja threw the dishtowel at him. Yoo Joonghyuk caught it with his spare hand and used it to open the oven door.

 

 


 

 

“I can’t find any socks,” Kim Dokja said in greeting as he wandered past.

“Check the clean laundry, I haven’t put it away yet,” Yoo Joonghyuk muttered, absorbed in sifting flour. “They might have got mixed in with Mia’s.”

Thirty minutes later, when Yoo Joonghyuk had moved to putting the cake in the oven, Kim Dokja re-emerged, socks in hand. “What took you so long?”

“I didn’t think you just left it all in the basket. I did the ironing and put the rest away."

“You didn’t have to,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, pointlessly. Kim Dokja, he’d discovered, was actually a bit of a neat freak, and especially particular about clothes. Yoo Joonghyuk’s closet hadn’t been so well organised and folded in his entire life.

“Just because you don’t wear clothes that crease doesn’t mean the rest of us do.”

“I iron Mia’s uniforms,” Yoo Joonghyuk muttered, offended at the implication he didn’t. He stared down at Kim Dokja’s feet. “Why are you still wearing the guest slippers?”

“Huh? Why wouldn’t I?”

“The blue and white ones. With the squids on them. Those are yours.” He steered Kim Dokja back to the entrance, and pointed at the new and frankly hideous slippers lined up next to Kim Dokja’s shoes.

“What? I don’t need- I mean, the guest slippers are fine?”

Yoo Joonghyuk dropped his hands on his shoulders, holding him in place. “Yoo Mia chose them for you.”

Kim Dokja slumped. “I can’t refuse, can I?” he mourned.

Yoo Joonghyuk just patted him on the back, satisfied.

 

 


 

 

Yoo Joonghyuk fought back a yawn, shrugging off his sweater in the dark and tossing it haphazardly into a dark corner of the bedroom.

Kim Dokja stirred, blinking sleepily as Yoo Joonghyuk sat on the bed and slid under the blankets. “Stream ran late?”

“Mm.” It had been a team match, so he hadn’t been able to dip out at his usual time. “Sorry if I woke you.” It was another cold night – cold enough that Kim Dokja hadn’t even tried to escape to his own apartment as he often did when Yoo Joonghyuk was too occupied to enforce his presence. He considered getting up to turn up the heat to compensate, but he settled for tugging on the blankets instead. “Hey, don’t hog them.”

“I’m not,” Kim Dokja protested sleepily, not moving at all.

“Hn. Fine.” Yoo Joonghyuk scooted to the middle of the bed, reached over, and snagged Kim Dokja by the waist and dragged him and his nest of blankets to him.

“A-ah! Yoo Joonghyuk?” Kim Dokja made to roll away, but Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t budge, letting out a pleased hum low in his throat. Kim Dokja was already warm, from two hours buried under the blankets. “You’re freezing,” he whined.

“Not for long,” he murmured.

“How do you get arms like this playing games?” Kim Dokja mumbled, giving up on his struggles and dragging his pillow over in sleepy defeat. “It’s unfair.”

“Mmm.” They fell quiet, nestled in the warm centre over the bed under the mound of blankets.

Yoo Joonghyuk had always been the sort of fall asleep quickly and easily. Here, like this, with Kim Dokja trapped under his arm where he couldn’t disappear without waking him, he almost regretted how swiftly he could feel himself drifting off.

He was moments from oblivion when Kim Dokja’s voice pierced the darkness once more. “This is weird, isn’t it, Yoo Joonghyuk?” His words were so small and quiet it was nearly a whisper. “I’m not – I’ve never had friends. But this is weird, right?”

“Do you think we’re friends?” Yoo Joonghyuk muttered, a trifle incredulously.

“…No?” Kim Dokja ventured, everything in his tone suggesting that until a few seconds ago, he’d thought ‘yes’ and was now re-evaluating that assumption.

“Hm. Forget that. Are you uncomfortable?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked, opening an eye, staring down at the sleep-tousled head of black hair tucked under his chin, staving off slumber a moment longer.

“It’s nice, but- it’s weird, right?”

“Are you complaining about ‘propriety’ again?” he grumbled. He bit back another yawn, and tightened his grip a little more, until Kim Dokja’s back was flush against his chest. “Don’t overthink it. If you hate it, tell me. If you don’t hate it, then it’s fine. That’s all that matters.”

If Kim Dokja said anything else, he didn’t hear it. But when Yoo Joonghyuk blinked back to awareness the next morning, he was still in his arms, body heavy and warm and still but for the slow draw of his breath.

He never thought, when they first met, that it would lead to this. But it wouldn't be so bad, he mused, waking up like this every morning. It was hard to picture getting sick of it.

Kim Dokja fit into his life better than he ever imagined. Yoo Joonghyuk didn't want to let go.

Still, there were practical considerations to be dealt with. He reluctantly withdrew, and headed to the bathroom. He might have told off Kim Dokja for caring about it… but there were still lines of propriety that were best not crossed yet.

 

 

 

Chapter 6: Theme Park

Notes:

This chapter definitely needs more work but oh well! I release it into the wild anyway.

Chapter Text

 

 

“Isn’t it kind of the wrong season for this?” Kim Dokja asked, ducking deeper into the folds of his grey scarf as a biting gust blew across the nearby lake.

“Less crowded,” Yoo Joonghyuk grunted. He’d gone for his usual incognito outfit, though had switched his normal hoodie for a thicker black down jacket. Yoo Mia skipped along next to him dressed in a smaller purple version of the same – Shin Yoosung scampered after her in red one, with a bright yellow scarf flapping over her shoulder as they rushed ahead to the ticket line.

“Being popular and famous sure is hard,” Kim Dokja remarked, then grabbed Shin Yoosung as they caught up and set about fixing her scarf. “How about this way, hmm? I think tying your scarf like this is much cuter, right?”

Shin Yoosung watched intently. “What? How did Dokja-ahjussi do it? Do it again!” she demanded. Kim Dokja just laughed, undid her scarf, and retied it again, slower so she could watch. Yoo Mia tugged on his sleeve seriously, glanced at Yoosung’s scarf, then back at him, eyes narrowed.

Kim Dokja sighed. “How about I do yours too, Mia? Then you two can match.”

“If you insist,” she said blandly.

“You really are siblings,” Kim Dokja muttered. He glanced at Yoo Joonghyuk, hesitant. “Are you really sure-”

“Ticket price is the same for four as it is for three,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, cutting off the argument before it could start again. “Theme parks are better with even numbers.” He folded his arms. “And it’s not like you ever do anything with your days off anyway.”

“Rude. I do my grocery shopping.”

Yoo Joonghyuk carefully didn’t point out that Kim Dokja hadn’t needed to do his grocery shopping for over two months – since Yoo Joonghyuk dragged him over for dinner nearly every night so the fool wouldn’t die of scurvy, then kept him there for breakfast too, after he discovered that was a meal his neighbour didn’t bother with on the altar of budgeting. Instead, he just mutely paid for the four tickets – two adults, two children, family pass – and ushered them into the theme park.

“Oppa, we wanna go on Dokkaebi Wind first,” his sister demanded. She and Yoosung had spent the entire journey there pouring over the park map.

“Sure,” he agreed. “Lead the way.”

Kim Dokja ambled alongside him as the two girls forged a path to their chosen attraction. His gaze darted to the giftshops, to the gaudy store fronts, to the looming rides in the distance, greedily drinking in every detail.

“See anything interesting?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked.

“It’s all interesting,” Kim Dokja admitted. “I’ve never been to a theme park before.”

“Too expensive?” Yoo Joonghyuk guessed. There were enough of them local to Seoul that it was strange to find anyone who hadn’t been at least once.

“There’s that, but more it’s not the kind of place you really go on your own.” He craned his neck catch the details on the rainbow archway overhead.

“Hm.” ‘Never had friends’ he’d said once under the safe blanket of night. Yoo Joonghyuk had taken it as hyperbole, but sometimes, in such moments, he had to wonder.

It didn’t make any sense to him. Certainly, he’d seen firsthand that Kim Dokja could be reticent around others, and socially awkward, and especially socially oblivious. He had seen that his neighbour kept to himself even at his workplace, but there was nothing particularly objectionable about him beyond his obsessive cheapness and his bad habit of talking like a con artist and propensity for petty grade school level insults. Surely that wasn’t enough to scare off everybody. Half of the other pro gamers Yoo Joonghyuk interacted with were far worse on all counts, and had no shortage of people willing to call them friends.

Their loss, he decided, as Kim Dokja bumped his shoulder and excitedly pointed out the giant fiberglass tiger half-covered in snow in the distance.

The benefit of their visit being in the off-season – in addition to choosing a less popular park – was the short lines for rides, even on the weekend. Mia and Yoosung corralled them to the top spin style ride in short order – of which the two girls only barely cleared the height requirements. They screamed with delight as the ride spun them high in the air. Yoo Joonghyuk kept an eye on them, glad to see Mia having such unrestrained fun.

Then he glanced to the left, and caught sight of Kim Dokja, with his eyes screwed shut, knuckles clutching the bar over their knees so tight they turned white.

“Kim Dokja, are you okay?”

His words were swallowed by the joyous shouts of the kids. The ride stilled for a moment at the height of the arch, then dropped again, the air rushing past his ears and the ground looming before him, then tilting crazily as the ride spun them one full revolution. Kim Dokja, even with his eyes shut tight and body held rigid, seemed to grow even more distressed.

As the ride slowed once more near the top, Yoo Joonghyuk reached out to get his attention, patting the hand gripped on the bar. In a moment, that fierce grasp transferred to his wrist, punishingly tight. Yoo Joonghyuk twisted it, so their fingers were interlaced instead, and returned the grip just as firmly, trying to offer what little reassurance he could.

The ride only lasted for three minutes luckily, before it slowed, and with gentle rocking motions lowered them back to the initial platform. The harnesses and bars released with a click, and Mia and Yoosung scurried away immediately, laughing and already opening the map for the next attraction.

Kim Dokja, on the hand, hadn’t opened his eyes or relaxed his grip at all. “Hey,” Yoo Joonghyuk prodded, squeezing his hand once more – though the pressure was already so tight he felt it in his bones. “The ride’s over.”

His eyes snapped open at that. His face was pale, and a moment later, he pasted a wan smile on his lips as he shakily relaxed his grip. “Ah… sorry.”

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t let go, though, ducking out of his harness and helping Kim Dokja raise his with his free hand. He grabbed his elbow to steady him as lurched from his seat and wobbled down the stairs. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I just… it caught me off guard,” was all he managed.

“Scared of heights?” Yoo Joonghyuk guessed.

“Not really, I go up to the roof at work all the time. Maybe ah… the falling?”

Yoo Joonghyuk mentally crossed off the tower drop from their list of attractions. Actually… quite a few rides his adrenaline junkie of a little sister had wanted to go on. “We’ll sit out the rollercoasters. Yoo Mia probably doesn’t meet the height requirement for most of them anyway.”

“You can still go, I can wait outside. I’m just a tagalong anyway,” he suggested. Yoo Joonghyuk ignored him, and tried not to be disappointed when Kim Dokja finally pulled his hand away once they reached the main footpath.

At least some colour had returned to his face.

He bounced back quickly enough for the Haunted House, then the Time Machine 5D 360, then he and Yoo Joonghyuk stood in line for churros while Yoo Mia and Shin Yoosung rode the Galaxy Train coaster. They ambled among the gardens eating their treats afterwards, until they came to a vintage shooting range, and Yoo Joonghyuk shot a perfect score, the rapid ding of pellets against targets almost drowned out by Yoosung’s excitement.

“We should take you to those sideshow pavilions. Clear out all their prizes,” Kim Dokja commented, in a way that only halfway sounded like a joke.

“Those are rigged,” Yoo Joonghyuk dismissed.

“Your brother is so cool Mia!” Yoosung enthused. “Oh, isn’t there laser tag here too? We should do that!”

“It won’t be a fair fight,” Yoo Mia said, but was already unfolding the park map again. “It’s called Sudden Attack.”

“Maybe if we all gang up on you, hey Yoo Joonghyuk?” Kim Dokja suggested with a grin.

“Sure.”

It was, of course, a massacre.

“That can’t have been very challenging for you,” Kim Dokja lamented at the end of the third round, gasping for breath. He’d come out with an abysmal result. Yoo Mia and Shin Yoosung had both done better than him – and combined the three of them didn’t even make it halfway to Yoo Joonghyuk’s score. “Pro gamers are too strong. I thought you’d at least go easy on the kids?”

“That was going easy.”

“Terrifying.”

“Don’t worry, ahjussi,” Yoosung consoled him, reaching up to pat him on the back. “You did really well for your first time playing!”

“You suck,” Yoo Mia said blandly, but she didn’t seem too bothered by losing. “Oppa, I want lunch.”

Yoo Joonghyuk checked the time. “I made reservations. If we walk slowly, we should get there about the right time.”

Lunch was to be in a decadently fancy restaurant by the rose gardens, which both girls loved and he and Kim Dokja stood out like sore thumbs in. The seats were all wrought iron painted white, the tables decorated with white tablecloths and floral centrepieces and delicate western-style silverware. Half the restaurant side-eyed them as they took their seats.

“Do you think you got recognised?” Kim Dokja whispered next to him.

“I don’t think that’s why they’re staring,” Yoo Joonghyuk replied. No one was trying to take stealth photographs, after all. And the clientele weren’t the younger crowd who knew his face – it was mostly families or couples on dates or well-to-do gold misses out treating themselves. The reason why he’d chosen this theme park instead of the more popular Lotte World or Everland.

“Hmm, even dressed like that your face is eye-catching, I guess,” Kim Dokja decided, bumping him with his shoulder, then frowning at the sound of giggles the next table over, craning his head to seek out the source. Finding nothing, he turned his attention to the red roses arranged artfully in the centre of the table instead, so tall they almost blocked their view of the girls on the other side. “This isn’t the sort of place I’d normally expect you to choose, though. It’s kind of romantic, isn’t it?”

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t comment, simply passing the menu over. Kim Dokja opened it and let out a low whistle. “The prices, too,” he added. “Hey, you’re paying right, Yoo Joonghyuk?”

Shameless. “Yes.”

Kim Dokja had the nerve to order the second most expensive thing on the menu. Inconsistent bastard.

“Revenge for laser tag,” he told the girls with faux solemnness. “You should both order dessert too.”

Yoo Mia grinned at him, and did exactly that.

They dawdled over lunch, soaking in the ambience and lingering over coffee and tiny artisanal cakes, until the girls finally grew restless enough to demand they move on. Yoo Joonghyuk shooed them ahead as he went to pay the bill.

Lunch was followed by a whirlwind tour of the Fantasy Land area, peppered with rides and snacks and soon, photos, as Yoo Mia and Shin Yoosung demanded their pictures in front of every other attraction as the sun set and the park became filled with fairy lights and twisted neon glows.

“I want one with oppa, too,” Yoo Mia said. Yoo Joonghyuk obligingly leaned in so she could snap a selfie with the miniature castle lit up in the background. “Oppa, would it kill you to smile?”

“You didn’t smile either,” he replied.

“Because you didn’t.”

They wandered the park a bit more, admiring the lights, when Shin Yoosung suggested, excited, “Wait! We should take a group photo in front of the globe! It’s the most recognisable part, right?”

“I’ll take it,” Kim Dokja offered, already flourishing his phone.

Yoo Joonghyuk grabbed his arm, then flagged down one of the nearby staff – who seemed to be loitering for just that purpose. There was no hint of recognition in their eyes when he unhooked his face mask, so he asked, “Can you take a photo for us?”

“Of course! Everyone gather up!” With fake cheer, the staff member waited for them to get into position. Yoo Joonghyuk dragged Kim Dokja in, arm around his shoulders, the two girls doing the same, flashing peace signs. The shutter sound went off several times, the staff member offered the phone back, and everyone gathered around to view the results.

“Ah, Mia, you’re blinking here!” Yoosung laughed. “Oh, but this one is good! Everyone’s eyes are open! And your brother is almost smiling, see? This one is definitely the best. Joonghyuk-ahjussi, can you send me a copy of this too?”

“I’ll send it to Mia, and she can share it with you,” he promised, fiddling with his phone one handed. Mia’s phone beeped a moment later.

Kim Dokja peered at the picture too, still trapped by Yoo Joonghyuk’s arm. “Did you just make it your lock screen?” He grinned at him. “You big sap. You’re such a doting big brother. Hey, send it to me too.”

A few more taps on his phone, and Kim Dokja was happily going through his own photos. Yoo Joonghyuk reluctantly let his arm fall away as Yoo Mia tugged on his coat.

“Oppa, when’s the fireworks? Let’s get a good spot,” she urged him.

“Oh oh, over here Mia! There’s good seats over here! Look they even cleared the snow away!” Yoosung waved, already running for the desired bench.

Yoo Joonghyuk doubted there was going to be crowds enough on a cold winter’s day, even on the weekend, to rob them of a view, but it wasn’t that long until the show anyway. He settled onto the middle of the bench with Mia – Yoosung squeezing in next to his sister on the end, and Kim Dokja squirming into the last gap left next to Yoo Joonghyuk, leaving them shoulder to shoulder, legs pressed together from thigh to knee. “Cozy,” he remarked with a wry grin, but he didn’t complain when Yoo Joonghyuk lifted his arm again and dropped it on his shoulders - instead turning his attention to his phone, snapping another candid picture of the park lit up.

Yoo Joonghyuk tapped his other hand against his thigh restlessly as they waited for the fireworks to begin. Yoo Mia smirked at him. “Oppa’s in a good mood.”

“Huh, how can you tell Mia?” Yoosung asked.

“Ehhh, isn’t it obvious?”

Whatever else Yoosung had been about to say was cut off by the music swelling in the park speakers, and the first pop of light in the dusky evening sky. It sparkled, with reds and greens and oranges and yellows, bursts of air followed by the soft sizzle of fire and light and the crowd’s collective gasps of awe and glee.

Out of the corner of his vision, Yoo Joonghyuk watched the play of coloured light flash against Kim Dokja’s pale skin and twinkle in his eyes, and had the thought that if he could make that moment last for an eternity, he would.

He sighed to himself.

“Something the matter?” Kim Dokja prodded his cheek with a finger.

“Just sad the day is ending,” he said, truthfully.

Kim Dokja grinned at him, and Yoo Joonghyuk felt something in chest unfurl, warm and content. “God, you really are a sap, actually? I can’t believe you said something that cheesy with such a serious face.” He faced forward again, expression faintly wistful as the fireworks peppered the sky above their heads. “I kind of agree, though. This was really nice. Thanks for bringing me along, Yoo Joonghyuk.”

“Hm.” Yoo Joonghyuk tightened his arm, just a fraction, and was gratified when Kim Dokja didn’t react beyond shifting slightly to get more comfortable.

It was the last week of winter.

 

 

Chapter 7: Moving In

Notes:

Again extra special thanks to Mythril for this chapter specifically! Anything good in this fic is definitely thanks to them.

Is the ending abrupt? Maybe a little, because I can’t be trusted to linger without introducing angst to this fluff fic. It took a lot of determination! Anyway thank you for reading my brain garbage.

Chapter Text

 

 

Five days after the theme park excursion found Yoo Joonghyuk digging through his wardrobe – a full half of which had been overtaken by Kim Dokja’s clothes. Which wasn’t an issue normally, but these days if it wasn’t his normal wear, he had no idea where anything was.

“What are you looking for?” Kim Dokja asked, leaning against his bedroom door. He squinted at him. “Are you wearing your dress clothes?”

“Awards ceremony tonight,” Yoo Joonghyuk explained.

“Ah. I remember. So you have a hot date for it then or-”

Yoo Joonghyuk paused long enough to give him a withering glance. “You didn’t want to come along.”

“I don’t even want to go Minosoft’s awards ceremonies, why would I go to someone else’s glorified work party?”

Yoo Joonghyuk shrugged it off. Kim Dokja was an idiot, he already knew that. “I’m looking for a tie.”

“You mean the tie. You only have one.” Kim Dokja reached past him, to the shelf above his head, and dropped the green silk tie into his hands. “And only one pair of slacks, and only one dress shirt, and only one jacket, which isn’t even formal but because you’ve got the shoulders of a gymnast you can turn business casual into all-occasions wear. I know you’re a gamer but-”

“Thanks,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, and pressed his lips fleetingly against his cheek as he took the tie and strode past to the bathroom. He pretended not to see Kim Dokja freeze, raising a furtive hand to his face, and focused instead on combing his hair.

He swept back into the living room, slipping his cards and phone into the inner pocket of his jacket, stuck his head into Yoo Mia’s room to let her know he was leaving, then fetched his leather dress shoes from the shoe cupboard. Kim Dokja trailed after him, steps hesitant. There was the faintest dusting of pink still blooming in his cheeks, and his eyes didn’t quite want to settle, darting to Yoo Joonghyuk before dancing away again. Still, he managed to ask, “Are you going to be warm enough in just the jacket?

Yoo Joonghyuk paused, hand on the door, for a beat too long. “I’ll only be outside for a few moments,” he eventually answered. It was only a couple of days until Spring, after all – the days weren’t quite as cold as they had been. “Thanks for keeping Mia company.”

“I’m certain she’ll hate it and spend the whole time in her room,” Kim Dokja reassured him, words more confident as they settled back on more familiar ground. “But I’ll make sure she eats something other than snacks for dinner, at least.”

Yoo Joonghyuk nodded. “It’ll probably run late. Don’t wait up.”

 

 


 

 

Spring heralded change. Yoo Joonghyuk knew that instinctively – had been pushing the matter, perhaps, with the spectre of winter’s end threatening to upset the extremely comfortable status quo they had found themselves in. In the end, though, it was his little sister’s blunt words that finally upended their routine.

One week into spring, when the snow had started to melt but the nights were still cold, they had spicy beef noodle soup for dinner. The appetising scent lingered in the kitchen even after they’d finished eating. Kim Dokja cleaned the empty dishes from the table, while Yoo Joonghyuk had started making pudding for tomorrow’s dessert.

Yoo Mia flounced back into the kitchen, waving a form in her hands. “Oppa, you have to sign this.”

“In a minute,” Yoo Joonghyuk promised, in the middle of mixing.

She rocked back on her heels, waiting and watching impatiently. Her gaze caught on Kim Dokja wiping down the kitchen table. “Oppa, since you’re dating, can this ugly ahjussi sign my form?”

Yoo Joonghyuk added a little more butter to the mix, then a dash of vanilla. “Not legally.”

Kim Dokja sputtered. “Wait, what?”

“Hnnnn.” Yoo Mia shoved her form more insistently at her brother. “You sign it then.”

Yoo Joonghyuk quickly washed his hands, and beckoned for the pen. He glanced over the form and scribbled out his signature in a careless sweep of someone far too used to giving autographs.

“Thanks oppa!” She skipped back to her room.

“But we’re not…” Kim Dokja started to say, visibly confused.

Yoo Joonghyuk poured the mixture into several prepared cups, covered them, and slipped them into the refrigerator. “We’re not what?”

“Dating?”

Yoo Joonghyuk raised an eyebrow, and folded his arms. “Then what do you call it, fool?”

“But I- I’m not-” He looked lost. “Dating is… romantic dinners, right? And… night-time walks?”

“And theme park trips?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked flatly. “You didn’t want to come to the awards dinner. That’s not my fault. Eating here is better anyway.”

“But that’s – that was for Mia-”

“Anybody I choose to date has to deal with that fact that my kid sister comes first. You’ve been good about it.”

“It’s not – how can we be dating? I just… sleep here. And eat here. And…” Kim Dokja paused, standing in the kitchen, cleaning cloth still hanging limply from his hands. “I… haven’t been in my apartment for… days?”

Yoo Joonghyuk shifted, subtly, to block the doorway.

“Am I living here?” Kim Dokja stared at him, the stirrings of panic in his eyes. “Why haven’t you-” He whirled, looking around as though seeing everything for the first time. “I… have my own slippers. My own mug. My own chopsticks and plate and towel…” He pointed an accusing finger at Yoo Joonghyuk. “It isn’t even that cold at night anymore, why am I still sleeping in your bed?”

Yoo Joonghyuk raised an eyebrow, to say ‘why do you think?’

Kim Dokja started to pace in the narrow confines of the kitchen, trapped between the counter and the kitchen table, looking remarkably like a caged animal. “But we never – you never said anything!”

Yoo Joonghyuk scoffed. “What’s the point of talking about it? Half of everything you say is a lie.”

“I thought – I thought I was the weird one. But you! You stealth moved me into your apartment! Then acted like it was all normal! And there was all those times – I thought you were just joking! Or- I was right, wasn’t I? It was weird!”

Yoo Joonghyuk shrugged, and looked away.

He wasn’t unaware of what he was doing. He’d taken Kim Dokja’s contrary nature into account, and acted accordingly. That was to say, stealth moving his neighbour into his apartment hadn’t exactly been planned, explicitly. It had mostly been Yoo Joonghyuk following a natural series of impulses to protect his idiot crush from himself. The rationalising came after.

Still. “It’s not weird if we’re dating, fool.”

Kim Dokja stopped his pacing, gesturing wildly. “How was I supposed to know that was dating? I didn’t even know you liked men? Much less-” He cut himself off.

“Much less what?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked.

Kim Dokja voice this time was small. “Much less me.”

This was annoying. “Kim Dokja, let me make it clear to you.” Yoo Joonghyuk stepped forward, curled a hand behind Kim Dokja’s neck, and closed the distance between them.

Their lips met – Kim Dokja let out a faint gasp, and Yoo Joonghyuk pushed forward, until they were backed against the kitchen counter and Kim Dokja threw out a wild hand to brace himself.

Yoo Joonghyuk kissed him, deeply, pressing closer until their bodies were flush, and only once he felt Kim Dokja finally respond did he pull back – though kept his hand steady on his neck, thumb brushing his pulse point. Kim Dokja’s cheeks were flushed, and his lips shiny with spit, and his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Shit. Had he pushed it too far? Had he read his neighbour wrong? “Kim Dokja, what’s the matter?”

“It- can’t be real,” he stuttered. “It never works out for me, something like this. Someone like me could never possibly even dream-”

Yoo Joonghyuk interrupted the words with another kiss. This time he didn’t withdraw until Kim Dokja was left gasping for breath, both hands desperately gripping at his shirt, and unable to utter such stupid statements anymore.

He thought he could guess, anyway. “I know,” he said. “About your past.” At Kim Dokja’s shocked inhale, he huffed. “What, isn’t it normal to look up your neighbour on the internet? You’re the one who told me that.”

He hadn’t looked until after the trip to the theme park, truthfully, when he’d felt that time was running short and Kim Dokja’s bizarre lack of normal socialisation had become too strong to ignore. It hadn’t been at all what he expected – it was much more melodramatic and upsetting - but it had explained enough. The insistence on living alone even when he clearly couldn’t afford it. The lack of friends and family. His fear of falling. And his completely misplaced belief that he would never be allowed anything good.

“Then-” Kim Dokja started to say.

“I don’t care about any of it. It’s not important. Anyone who does care is a stupid fool.” He cradled his face, holding him close, so that he couldn’t look away, and said seriously, “Kim Dokja. You can stay. Even when you’re being annoying, even when you’re being an idiot. I want you to stay.”

“You… sunfish bastard… didn’t even ask me if I wanted to…” Kim Dokja mumbled, face bright red and eyes watering.

Yoo Joonghyuk pushed a strand of loose hair back behind the shell of his ear. “You don’t?”

“God, all this time… I thought I was such garbage. For even daring to think about it.” He laughed, then, though it was strangled. “Turns out I was just wasting time?”

Then he slid a hand into Yoo Joonghyuk’s hair, and tugged him forward again, mashing their mouths together hungrily.

They might have kept going, if Yoo Mia didn’t choose that moment to open her door. They broke apart, right as she padded back into the kitchen.

“Ugh, were you kissing?” Yoo Mia asked. “Gross. Oppa, I want juice.”

Kim Dokja made a strangled sound, and escaped to the living room. Yoo Joonghyuk let him go, since he could keep an eye on him there, and it was the opposite direction to the front door.

“It’s too late for juice. You can either have milk or tea,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, opening the cupboards to fetch her favourite mug.

His little sister scrunched up her nose, and decided, “Milk.”

Yoo Joonghyuk nodded, and flicked on the stove, ready to warm it up. Yoo Mia rocked back on her heels, waiting, and glanced over at Kim Dokja. “Why’s the ugly ahjussi dying on the couch?”

“He figured out we were dating.”

Yoo Mia looked unimpressed. “I never realised you were stupid as well as ugly, ahjussi.”

Kim Dokja made a sound like a dying cat. Yoo Mia wasn’t swayed, peering at her brother judgmentally. “I still don’t get what you see in him, but since he makes you happy, it’s okay.” She paused, and added, rather magnanimously, “And he folds my clothes nice.”

“Then you don’t mind if he moves in permanently?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked, setting the milk to warm.

“I thought he already had anyway.”

“Don’t I have a say in this?” Kim Dokja’s voice, muffled by cushions, floated to them.

“No,” the two siblings said in unison.

 

 


 

 

Two days later, the corner of Yoo Joonghyuk’s bedroom contained a small bookshelf stuffed full of odd-shaped books and magazines, and his closet hid a worn backpack in the corner. The linen cupboard had likewise gained a new rolled up bed mat and plain blanket.

Finishing moving Kim Dokja in had taken about eight minutes.

“Of course it did,” Yoo Joonghyuk said. “You had all of ten things in your apartment to begin with.” And his entire wardrobe had already migrated into Yoo Joonghyuk’s over the past three months. Along with his phone charger. And his toiletries.

Kim Dokja blushed furiously, though it might have been less the remark and more Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand resting low on his hip. Still, instead of freezing, now he stepped into the loose embrace, even if it was to argue his point. “I couldn’t afford movers! When I first moved here I had to bring it all on the subway.”

“Hm. Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore.” Yoo Joonghyuk ducked his head, pressing his lips briefly against Kim Dokja’s neck.

“That’s right. Though I still can’t believe I actually get to shack up with my hot and famous neighbour,” Kim Dokja said, though the words were accompanied by a pleased smirk as he tilted his head, inviting Yoo Joonghyuk with better access. Kim Dokja was rapidly progressing from astronomically embarrassed to extremely self-satisfied by the whole affair, in fact, stopping just shy of pretending it was his idea in the first place.

“Not your neighbour anymore,” Yoo Joonghyuk corrected, and took the invitation by kicking the bedroom door shut behind them.