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The three of them end up finding Kim Dokja in the middle of the goddamn woods, curled peacefully on a sunny patch of grass in tranquil sleep as if he hadn’t disappeared without a trace and sent the whole Complex into a panic.
Standing almost protectively in front of him is a little white cat, meowing wildly at their presence with its back arched high.
Yoo Sangah clears her throat. “I’m really not sure what to make of this.”
Yoo Joonghyuk stands next to her silently in solidarity.
Han Sooyoung’s having none of it. “Yah, you bastard!” Han Sooyoung kicks Kim Dokja in the rear, who barely reacts, still sluggish with sleep.
She shrieks when the cat flings itself at her and clings to her leg, and shakes it with a loud expletive. The cat just holds desperately onto her leg, not climbing up or clawing it to pieces but simply hugging its whole body around her calf like it’s scared to let go. Bewildered, Han Sooyoung stands there on one leg with the other lifted to stare at the damn cat.
“He’s awake,” Yoo Joonghyuk says, drawing the others’ attention.
[The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ is holding her breath in anticipation.]
Kim Dokja slowly props himself up onto his hands, legs splayed to one side as he regards them blankly.
“Do you want to explain where you were?” Yoo Sangah says pleasantly with an ominous air.
Kim Dokja blinks slowly at them.
There’s a strange air of elegance to his demeanor, with the way he holds himself up almost delicately, which is quickly broken by a vaguely higher-than-usual sound of “mrrah?” that doesn’t sound like it’s supposed to be coming from Kim Dokja.
A pause.
“Something’s wrong,” says Yoo Joonghyuk gruffly.
“Yeah, no shit.” Han Sooyoung leans forward to poke at the center of Kim Dokja’s forehead. “Everything good in there? The constellations drug you or anything?”
Kim Dokja(?) tilts his head up to bump his nose against Han Sooyoung’s finger.
Han Sooyoung shrieks as if he’s bitten it off.
Yoo Sangah gestures her back, then squats down to look at him at eye level. “Dokja-ssi,” she says patiently, as if speaking to a child. “Can you hear me? Can you say something?”
Yoo Joonghyuk stares at her. “What are you doing.”
“He hasn’t responded to anything we’ve said,” she explains without looking away from Kim Dokja(?). “Nor has he said anything. There might be some restriction placed on his cognitive functions.”
The white cat drops down from its place on Han Sooyoung’s leg and scampers up to Yoo Sangah, prodding frustratedly at her as she stares at it in bemusement. It runs in circles between Yoo Sangah and Kim Dokja(?), meowing loudly and animatedly.
As if in response, Kim Dokja(?) makes a softer sound that sounds suspiciously like a meow.
Han Sooyoung looks between the cat and Kim Dokja(?), paling dramatically as it dawns on her.
“Are you fucking serious.”
[The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ is nodding vigorously.]
[The constellation ‘Prisoner of the Golden Headband’ has his head in his hands.]
Kim Dokja (the real one) wants to throw his hands in the air. “Yes!” he shrieks, but it ends up coming out as an oddly strangled yowl. He whips back around to glare at the…the thing, its demeanor infuriatingly relaxed compared to his own mounting distress.
He screeches in indignation when someone grabs him roughly by the back of his neck, thrashing as he’s lifted embarrassingly easily up to Yoo Joonghyuk’s face.
“…Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk tries, sounding like he hates every part of this.
Kim Dokja goes limp in resignation. He nods.
“Oh, this is too good,” Han Sooyoung crows. She pokes at his fluffy belly, yanking her hand back with a cackle when he jolts and lashes out. “We’re so taking you back. The kids’ll have a field day with you.”
Kim Dokja wants to die.
“And what do we do with…that?” Yoo Joonghyuk looks down at the other one with something like contempt. Kim Dokja doesn’t know if cats are physically capable of blushing with embarrassment, but he feels like he’s about to implode on himself.
The cat, with Kim Dokja’s body, chooses then to stretch, sticking his hands out to fist the grass and arching his back with his ass high in the air.
[The constellation ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon’ thinks that this is too cringeworthy to watch.]
Kim Dokja nearly passes out from the humiliating scene. Yoo Sangah poorly disguises her laughter with a sharp cough, but her trembling shoulders give her away. He looks up at her with wide eyes, never having felt more betrayed in his life.
“How indecent!” she muses with a teasing glint in her eyes.
It’s not me! Kim Dokja wants to wail.
“Shame they didn’t swap ears too,” Han Sooyoung says ruefully. “Could’ve made a whole lot off of certain constellations.”
Kim Dokja is deeply thankful that they didn’t make him look like an amateur cosplayer at a convention. He also does not want to think about a cat with human ears.
He flinches at the snap of a camera, whipping his head around to stare down the camera lens of Han Sooyoung’s phone.
“Oops, forgot to turn the sound off,” Han Sooyoung says gleefully.
My life is over, Kim Dokja bemoans. It’s like he’s watching his reputation going down the drain in real time.
[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ requests Incarnation ‘Han Sooyoung’ to send over the pictures.]
Kim Dokja swivels to stare at the screen, ears flattened. What the fuck is happening.
“Stop wasting time,” Yoo Joonghyuk huffs with crossed arms.
“Yes, yes.” Yoo Sangah turns to Kim Dokja with her arms outstretched. “Come on, Dokja-ssi.”
Kim Dokja swallows his pride and trudges into Yoo Sangah’s arms, who scoops him up a little too happily.
“You too, Dok—um.” Yoo Sangah blinks uncertainly at not-Kim Dokja, who’s still sprawled on the ground.
[The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ suggests that you can all refer to it as ‘Catja’.]
“I am not doing that,” says Yoo Joonghyuk at the same time as Han Sooyoung blurts out, “holy shit that’s great.”
At Yoo Sangah’s gentle beckoning, Catja makes an attempt to rise on all fours with his shoes still on the ground, but the difference in anatomy makes him topple over before he’s successful. He settles for crawling forward on his knees, somewhat clumsily.
It’s such a humiliating scene that Kim Dokja buries his face into the crook of Yoo Sangah’s neck, who pats him sympathetically.
“I can’t watch this,” Han Sooyoung says abruptly. “Yoo Joonghyuk, carry him.”
Anything but that. Kim Dokja flails in Yoo Sangah’s arms, and she almost drops him in surprise. Han Sooyoung throws him a smug, knowing look.
Yoo Joonghyuk makes a face. “I don’t want to.”
“Either carry him or we’re leaving him out here.”
Yoo Joonghyuk stares down the smaller man with a conflicted expression. He heaves a sigh, then stoops over with his arms outstretched. Kim Dokja gawks with his little cat mouth.
Catja flinches back at the sudden movement, staring wide-eyed up at the regressor, who remains still with surprising patience. The feline (in his body!) cranes his neck to sniff at Yoo Joonghyuk’s outstretched hand, and the tension melts as he pushes his cheek into the hand affectionately.
Even Yoo Joonghyuk seems startled for a moment, freezing as if he hasn’t thought this far ahead. He ends up not quite indulging in Catja’s affection but allowing his hand to slide past his cheek to curl around his shoulders. With little fanfare, Yoo Joonghyuk scoops him up in a comfortable bridal carry.
Catja settles snugly in his arms with curled hands tucked into his chest, the corners of his lips pulled up slightly in a content expression.
[The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ is filing this image away for future reference.]
“Well, I didn’t mean carry him like that,” Han Sooyoung says amusedly, “but that works too.”
Yoo Joonghyuk scowls at her. The expression falters slightly when Catja nuzzles his face into Yoo Joonghyuk’s chest, shifting comfortably. If Catja were anatomically able to, it was certain that he would be purring.
Kim Dokja legitimately, genuinely doesn’t know if he can handle this crippling shame.
“How cozy,” Han Sooyoung coos. She starts sprinting in the direction of the Complex at the look Yoo Joonghyuk gives her.
“We come bearing gifts,” Han Sooyoung announces loudly, flanked on either side by Yoo Joonghyuk and Jung Heewon holding their respective Kim Dokjas.
Lee Jihye dumbly drops the sword she’s sharpening, eyes zeroing in on Yoo Joonghyuk stiffly carrying a cuddly Kim Dokja, who has his arms wrapped snugly around the regressor’s neck and continues nuzzling into the crook of it, eyes closed contentedly.
“Ahju—Ahjussi?!” Shin Yoosung cries out in betrayal.
“Hyung! What’re you—what—” Lee Gilyoung’s face is redder with anger and bewilderment than he’s ever seen it to be.
“And a cat,” says Jung Heewon blandly, staring at the Kim Dokja in Yoo Sangah’s arms.
“Other way around,” Han Sooyoung chirps. “Behold: Kim Dokja.”
She splays her hands in Yoo Sangah’s direction with a flourish.
Kim Dokja feels his ears flatten against his head when all eyes swivel to him.
“Oh,” says Lee Hyunsung intelligently, his eyes flicking between him and Catja. “Oh, so that’s…why…oh. Okay.”
A beat of silence. Then,
“You can’t be fucking serious.”
“Are you guys sure? Everyone here’s sober, right?”
“Ahjussi, can I pet you? Can I? Please please please—”
“Oi, wait your turn! I’m petting him first!”
“What if he has rabies?”
“Myah.”
The clamor goes abruptly quiet and everyone stares at Catja, who blinks owlishly in return.
Then he goes right back to snuggling into Yoo Joonghyuk’s hold with a quiet, contented trill. Lee Jihye sways.
Oh, God. Ohh, hell. This is hell.
Kim Dokja literally cannot think of any image worse than this.
He writhes wildly in Yoo Sangah’s hold, and she drops him out of surprise. He lands softly on the floorboards and bounds over to Yoo Joonghyuk, who watches him with lowered brows.
Kim Dokja bites his ankle as hard as he can.
“You—!” Yoo Joonghyuk instinctively flicks his leg out, not quite violently enough to throw him off but enough to make Kim Dokja dizzy and scrabble for footing. He sinks his teeth in harder, piercing through the pant leg and reaching flesh.
Put me down! he shrieks desperately. Put me down, put me down! It comes out as a fit of hissing and screeching.
The sudden movement and noise and antagonizing noises from Kim Dokja evidently frightens Catja, who scrabbles in Yoo Joonghyuk’s arms and jostles himself free. There are several cries of surprise when he collides against the floor with a loud thud, just barely righting himself before he makes an inelegant dive for safety beneath the nearest couch.
He hits his head on the corner of it before slipping his upper half underneath, but the curve of his waist catches on the edge. With some frantic wiggling and his toes slipping against the floor, all 5 feet and 8 inches of Catja disappear beneath the couch.
Kim Dokja decides in all seriousness that seeing his grown, adult 28 year old self acting like this is worse than death.
“Wow,” says Jung Heewon eloquently after some stunned silence. “Honestly impressive.”
“Hyung!” Lee Gilyoung drops flat against the floor to peer under, a safe distance away. “I mean—do I still call him Hyung?”
“You can call him Catja,” Han Sooyoung says.
He looks at her.
She shrugs. “I didn’t pick it.”
Shin Yoosung lowers herself to the floor as well, her voice going soft. “We’re sorry for scaring you, kitty.”
“How the hell did he fit himself under there?” Jung Heewon squats down and cranes her neck to scan beneath the couch, following the children’s examples by staying rooted to her spot instead of moving closer.
“He is a pretty thin man,” Lee Hyunsung murmurs, concern plain in his voice.
They all (bar Yoo Joonghyuk) get on their stomach or their hands and knees in a loose semicircle to squint at Catja.
Catja’s scrunched rather uncomfortably under the couch, his chin pressed against the floor and his hands balled into tense fists on either side of it, arms tucked in close. He bares his teeth and sinks further into the shadows at all the eyes scrutinizing him.
“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Shin Yoosung says soothingly, shuffling back slightly to give him more space. “Sorry for scaring you. You’re okay.”
“Pspspspsps,” says Han Sooyoung. Yoo Sangah gives her a look. She shrugs.
They go another five minutes of collectively trying to coax him out. At some point, Jung Heewon even leaves briefly and reappears with an entire raw fish, but to no avail. Catja eventually stops shaking and there’s not quite as much tautness in his shoulders, but his eyes remain wide and he doesn’t budge an inch and shows no sign of doing so anytime soon.
“Yoo Joonghyuk, you help out too,” Han Sooyoung hisses to the regressor, who hasn’t moved from his spot and merely watched them make a fool of themselves in silent amusement.
Yoo Joonghyuk simply crosses his arms and leans back nonchalantly against the wall. “Hm,” he says.
They all hear a quiet “mrr?” in response to his utterance.
A sly grin breaks across Han Sooyoung’s face. She stands up, groaning slightly at the ache in her knees. “Yup, this definitely seems like a job for Yoo Joonghyuk.”
“He’s quite attached to you already,” Yoo Sangah muses with a small chuckle.
Oh, why did Catja have to latch onto Yoo Joonghyuk, of all people?!
Yoo Joonghyuk remains unmoving for a moment, before pushing himself off the wall with a long-suffering sigh. “This isn’t going to work, you know.”
“Well, doesn’t hurt to try,” Lee Jihye offers. Yoo Joonghyuk grumbles something under his breath, but lowers himself to one knee. Everyone else stands slowly and backs away as he crouches down.
He extends a hand, palm up. “Come here,” he says gruffly.
“Use a softer voice!” Shin Yoosung hisses. “I knew this sooty bastard wouldn’t be able to—”
Catja slowly pokes his head out.
They gape openly as Yoo Joonghyuk inches forward, letting his hand hover a couple inches from Catja’s face. After a small moment of hesitation, Catja scoots forward to nuzzle his temple into that hand. There’s a collective sigh of relief from the others.
Yoo Joonghyuk takes the chance to grab him by the collar and yank him roughly from his hiding spot.
“Don’t be so rough!” Lee Hyunsung cries.
Catja yelps and flails a bit, launching himself forward to wrap his arms and legs around Yoo Joonghyuk, clinging tight with his nails digging into the regressor’s shoulders. Yoo Joonghyuk staggers to his feet, his arms instinctively coming up to wrap securely around Catja’s waist.
“Oh,” Lee Jihye coos, clasping her hands together.
“What do you mean oh,” says Han Sooyoung. “I’m at death’s door just from all this second-hand embarrassment.
For once, Kim Dokja is in desperate agreement.
Pressing his back to the wall, he crouches low and slinks silently along it, eyeing the open window just ahead of him. If he can just get out of this hell hole, and wait out this damn punishment without costing any more of his sanity—
He wails in protest when someone scoops him up.
“And where do you think you’re going, Dokja-ssi?” Yoo Sangah chirps, shaking him slightly. She holds him close, crooning at his little form, and scratches lightly behind his ear.
Kim Dokja does not melt into the touch, he doesn’t. It’s just. Weirdly comfortable. Makes him want to close his eyes and just fall asleep, everything else be damned.
“Oi.” Yoo Joonghyuk’s gruff voice is slightly muffled into Catja’s shoulder. “What do I do with this.”
Catja still clings to him, wrapped securely around the larger frame. Yoo Joonghyuk has one arm around his waist and the other supporting him from below.
Get your hand off my ass, Kim Dokja weeps.
“Get your hand off his ass,” Jung Heewon snaps.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s face twitches unreadably, but he complies, hand sliding up to the backs of his knees.
“What do I do with this,” he repeats, peeved when no one deigns him with an answer.
“We can have others try to gather information,” muses Yoo Sangah, ignoring him entirely. “And in the meantime, we can wait it out.
“Should we give Ahjussi a bath?”
For the love of everything unholy.
Jung Heewon squints down at him. “Do you think he can…clean himself?”
They all look at Kim Dokja. Kim Dokja stares silently back, as if to say are you being serious right now.
“Oops,” says Han Sooyoung loudly, a bottle manifesting from thin air and dropping into her outstretched hand. “I bought cat shampoo.”
“The Dokkaebi Bag sells that?”
“The Dokkaebi Bag sells everything.”
Kim Dokja makes it very clear that he will not comply with that, writhing and hissing wildly in desperate efforts to escape. Yoo Sangah, having unfortunately learned her lesson, simply holds him tight and avoids his flying claws.
“He does look like a stray, doesn’t he?” Lee Jihye peers at him with a smirk playing on her lips. “I vote for a bath before he gives us fleas.”
I am not taking a bath, shrieks Kim Dokja. I am not taking a fucking bath, I am not—
Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung give him a bath.
At least Shin Yoosung was trying to be careful about it—holding him gently, reassuring him like he really was a frightened cat afraid to drown—but Lee Gilyoung is truly, undeniably god-awful with animals. Kim Dokja finds out for himself when the kid practically dunks him in the water for the split second Shin Yoosung has her back turned.
The water is too warm too suddenly and gets into his nose. Kim Dokja starts screaming.
“I told you to take it slow! Let him get used to it!” Shin Yoosung shrieks, throwing her arms over her face when Kim Dokja scrabbles clumsily for the slippery bathtub sides, throwing droplets of water everywhere.
“You didn’t tell me shit!” Lee Gilyoung shrieks back. He whips back around to face Kim Dokja with his hands flapping frantically in an useless placating motion. “Hyung. Hyung!” he wails helplessly.
The distress cuts through his panicked flailing, and he has enough conscience left to feel a bit bad for these inexperienced kids. He manages to find his footing on the slippery surface, standing stiffly while being pushed about by the waves thrown up by his own splashing.
Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung peer down at him with wide eyes, and begin to giggle uncontrollably.
“Ahjussi looks…distraught,” Shin Yoosung barely manages in unconvincing sympathy.
“Like a wet rat,” Lee Gilyoung wheezes out. “Hyung, I wish you could see yourself.”
Oh, I will, thinks Kim Dokja miserably, when my companions and the entirety of the Star Stream decides to publicize my demise.
He really does feel as miserable as he must look. The water weighs down his coat the same way it’d clog up clothes, but this time it’s like wearing a second layer of skin around his own, heavy and thick and indescribably uncomfortable. Kim Dokja arches his back high to keep as much of his body out of the water as he can, fighting the urge to shake himself off and send the three of them into another state of frenzy.
“Oh, it can’t be that bad,” Shin Yoosung coos, reaching out to cup his little face. Kim Dokja flattens his ears in disagreement, which just makes her throw her head back in laughter.
“C’mon, c’mon, we’re getting off track,” Lee Gilyoung chides, rolling up his sleeves dutifully.
They slather him in cat shampoo, fighting over who gets to wash out each inch of fur. They use every excuse to run their hands through his fur, using the perfect balance between gentle palms and blunt nails that sends pleasant little shivers running through Kim Dokja’s skin.
It’s a little weird for Kim Dokja, being as little as he suddenly is, when the hands of the children, small when held in his own, feel so large and warm and strangely safe in the way they seem to engulf him.
Kim Dokja sinks down until the surface laps against his chin, his weight held gently by the swaying water. Especially with his eyes closed, he feels weightless enough to forget that it’s water he’s in, instead of floating aimlessly in hazy warmth.
“It’s not so bad, see?” Shin Yoosung says softly.
Kim Dokja makes a noncommittal sound that rumbles suspiciously similarly to a purr.
“Look,” says Lee Gilyoung. “Hyung’s happy.”
Happy might be a bit much, thinks Kim Dokja petulantly, distantly. His tail curls languidly.
They’re right though. It’s not so bad, being small and weightless.
Maybe it’s because Kim Dokja is smaller and sensitive all over, but he feels distinctly the low thrum of a heartbeat held in the palms of the children, a delicate thing drowned out too easily by the soft lapping of water. So he finds himself staying still and silent, eyes slipping shut now and then to reach out for those quiet pulses that echo through his whole being and ripple gently into his heart.
It’s really not so bad.
“Are you sleepy?” Shin Yoosung whispers.
No, thinks Kim Dokja. I don’t want to sleep. I want to be here forever.
He’s just incoherent enough not to deny himself that thought.
Yoo Joonghyuk looks down silently at the other, arms crossed over his chest.
Catja peers up at him, legs folded neatly under himself and hands curled against the floor, propping himself up demurely.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eye twitches.
With a tilt of his head, Catja—
God. He’s not calling it ‘Catja’ anymore.
If it weren’t for that stupid pose, Yoo Joonghyuk honestly thinks there isn’t much difference between this and regular Kim Dokja. No matter how everyone else praises his companion’s quick mind, Yoo Joonghyuk’s always thought he looks slow-witted. Not for any particular reason, but the rounded eyes and faint pout somehow capture the same empty-headed air he’s always associated with Kim Dokja.
Kim Dokja always manages to be Kim Dokja even when he’s a squid or a cat, at least to Yoo Joonghyuk. So this is ‘Kim Dokja’ as well, he decides with finality.
After a moment longer of silent staring, he drops himself onto the sofa with an exhausted grunt, crossing his arms. It’s not like he can very well leave this thing here, so he might as well just wait it out.
He’s about to cross his legs, too, when movement from Kim Dokja makes him pause and peer down.
The smaller man is staring directly at Yoo Joonghyuk’s lap as his hips wiggle back into an unmistakable crouch.
“Don’t,” warns Yoo Joonghyuk.
Kim Dokja doesn’t listen. He leaps.
But he succeeds in little more than a pathetic hop that barely lifts him off the floor, leaving him to slam his face against the cushion’s edge and bounce back with a startled cry.
Yoo Joonghyuk is torn between regressing from second-hand embarrassment and smug satisfaction from the telltale pings of countless watching constellations.
He sits back and watches as Kim Dokja clambers up inelegantly, his white coat beginning to slip from his shoulders and pool messily around his limbs in the struggle. After knobby elbows and knees jab incessantly into Yoo Joonghyuk’s thighs, he relents with a long-suffering sigh and hooks his hands under Kim Dokja’s armpits to pull him up like a ragdoll.
He hadn’t thought very far ahead at all, but luckily Kim Dokja seems to have a rather clean-cut goal—he wriggles like being held by Yoo Joonghyuk is the worst thing in the world, and when Yoo Joonghyuk finally sets him aside he turns right around to clamber into his lap.
Yoo Joonghyuk goes rigid, arms still half-raised as Kim Dokja contentedly makes himself comfortable, seating himself comfortably on Yoo Joonghyuk’s thighs as if they were the crevice of a couch. Bent legs splayed on either side, leaned forward to rest his curled hands (paws??) against Yoo Joonghyuk’s chest and proceedingly decides to gaze into his fucking soul as Yoo Joonghyuk struggles to form a single coherent thought.
Kim Dokja stares at him from an inch away with these stupid owlish eyes, and lets out the most recognizable, coherent “meow” he’s heard from him all day.
It’s almost enough to shock a snort from Yoo Joonghyuk. Almost.
“What do you want,” he says instead.
Kim Dokja genuinely does not look like he’s holding a single thought inside that head.
Yoo Joonghyuk smacks him lightly over the head, wondering if he finally broke.
Kim Dokja does move, if only to look at Yoo Joonghyuk’s palm still raised half-heartedly in the air. Without hesitation, he presses his cheek against Yoo Joonghyuk’s vaguely cupped palm with a soft sound.
Yoo Joonghyuk freezes. Kim Dokja continues to nuzzle, eyes closed contentedly, swaying a little as if to headbutt him.
Cute, thinks Yoo Joonghyuk.
…
He reels backwards.
Cute? Cute? Is this scenario messing with his mind too? He fights to fathom any possible thing that could make this idiot creature cute, and comes up with nothing.
Kim Dokja mewls in protest when the hand is jerked away.
There was nothing stopping Yoo Joonghyuk in that moment from shoving Kim Dokja off his lap. There was no reason he could’ve possibly given to explain why he tolerated what annoyed him relentlessly when there was no consequence to refusing.
Still, Yoo Joonghyuk finds himself reaching back out to the other, sometimes along his cheek and sometimes in his hair. He traces gently along a soft cheekbone with his thumb, cards his fingers through tousled hair with occasional soft scratching, and Kim Dokja looks more at peace than he’s ever seen him to be in his life.
What do you want, he thinks distantly, as he scritches gently under the other’s chin, who tips and tilts his head with a contented sound to chase the feeling. Faintly, Yoo Joonghyuk wonders why it was him of all people that this stray cat decided to latch onto. Beasts never liked him, and most animals by proxy.
As strange as it is, it feels as though this was the first time the regressor has been able to see his companion so closely. Kim Dokja is always running around or running away and Yoo Joonghyuk keeps everyone at an arm’s length away, so this scenery feels a bit hazy and fragile, like if he’s too loud or too angry it might get blown away. Keeping his companion close in his own stronger arms is something he’s never tried before, and strangely, he finds that he doesn’t hate it.
These thoughts keep Yoo Joonghyuk quiet, and in that quietness Kim Dokja droops forward to curl himself against his companion’s chest, tucking his face into his shoulder, and Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t fight it. Pride seems like a distant thing, in a moment like this.
Yoo Joonghyuk drops his head back with an exhale, staring a bit dazedly at the ceiling.
“What do you want from me?” he sighs.
Kim Dokja mews sleepily in response.
“Seriously, are you guys done in here?” Jung Heewon pokes her head into the bathroom crossly. “How long does it take to wash a single…oh.”
Lee Gilyoung hurriedly lifts a finger to his lips, flinging water to the already soaked tiles in the process.
“Ahjussi fell asleep,” Shin Yoosung says softly, her hands still submerged in the water, one hand steady against his flank and the other cupped carefully under his chin, holding his little face aloft in the water.
“I didn’t think that was possible,” Jung Heewon says quietly, leaning against the doorframe to watch on fondly. She looks over her shoulder. “Sooyoung-ah, you’ve gotta see this.”
“What? What?” Han Sooyoung bounds over, eyes sparkling with the potential for more ammunition.
Kim Dokja(?) chooses that moment to wake up and lose his mind.
Jung Heewon sees it and Shin Yoosung feels it, the way his eyes snap open and he goes rigid, ears flattening and round eyes flitting down to the lapping water.
Shin Yoosung starts shrieking as the feline begins scrabbling wildly at the bathtub’s edge, splattering everyone within eyesight with soapy cat bathwater. Shin Yoosung grabs blindly for him, but he bolts with a screech and flings himself past the children and the startled Jung Heewon, and barrels between Han Sooyoung’s legs mid-step and sends her toppling to hardwood floor in humiliating disgrace.
“You—! Kim Dokja!” she shrieks, scrambling to her feet and taking off after him. “What the hell was that for! Kim Dokja, get back here!”
A distant yowl echoes down the halls, as does Han Sooyoung’s responding cry.
“You damn cat! I’ll wring you out like a fucking rag!”
The three remaining companions watch the scenery with varying degrees of emotion.
“I don’t think that’s your Ahjussi anymore,” says Jung Heewon mildly.
Shin Yoosung looks distraught. “The poor kitty.”
Kim Dokja drifts to the heartbeats of two, and wakes to the thrum of one. It’s low and steady against his ear.
Warm, not in the floaty way, but heavy, secure, held—like how a hug would feel, in his little lonely daydreams. The musky scent of tea leaves, familiar and grounding.
With a soft sound, he shuffles slightly to get more comfortable and curls his hands around fabric, clinging gently to that sturdy warmth—
Huh. Hands?
Kim Dokja blinks his eyes open.
It takes a moment for his hazy vision to focus, but he recognizes his human hands fisted loosely around black fabric, letting out a soft sigh of relief.
Then with pings that sound closer to vibrations with how fast they come, he nearly goes blind with the amount of delayed notifications and donations smothering his vision. All he does is squint, still too disorientated to read them properly, and gives up quickly on reading at all.
Kim Doka pushes himself up, wobbling a little at the uneven surface he’s on—and comes to two unfortunate realizations at once.
One, that he’s sitting on a man’s lap.
Two, that it’s Yoo Joonghyuk’s lap.
Kim Dokja slowly meets narrowed eyes.
“...Ah,” he ekes out.
Yoo Joonghyuk, who is very much awake, looks deeply unimpressed.
Both are spared from forming responses when the nearest ajar door slams open to a sopping white cat barreling through it, scrabbling madly on the hardwood floors. It disappears into the next room right as Han Sooyoung bursts in after it, breathing heavily.
“Get back here, you squid bas—!”
She skids to a halt when she meets Kim Dokja’s bewildered stare, from his seat on Yoo Joonghyuk’s lap. There are a series of quiet ‘oomph’s as the children bump into her after her sudden halt.
“Hello,” he says weakly.
At the sound of his voice, two smaller figures peek out from behind Han Sooyoung’s back.
“Ahjussi?”
“Hyung! You’re ba…”
Both trail off as they process the scene.
“Is Dokja-ssi back?” Then Jung Heewon’s there, peering over Han Sooyoung’s shoulder.
“Honestly, what’s with the ruckus?” Then Yoo Sangah’s there, too.
“Did I hear Dokja-ssi’s back?” And Lee Hyunsung. “Is—oh.”
There’s a prolonged silence as everyone stares between the two companions.
“...It’s not what it looks li—”
“Disgusting,” says Han Sooyoung. “Let’s leave them to it.”
She slams the door shut.
Kim Dokja continues to stare at the door, muffled voices seeping through, some laughing and some in genuine distress. The stray cat has been forgotten.
It takes another full three seconds of dead silence for Kim Dokja to scramble back disgracefully, nearly smacking Yoo Joonghyuk in the face. “You have some explaining to do,” he hisses as he twists away, lifting his legs to swing them both to one side.
Instead of being belatedly shoved off like he’d been expecting, Kim Dokja is yanked back forward to sprawl against his companion’s chest.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Yoo Joonghyuk growls, hands tightening around his waist and sealing his fate.
Kim Dokja is too stunned to even try to wriggle his way free. Yoo Joonghyuk does nothing but stare at him with a ferocity he doesn’t recognize, and he gets the distinct feeling that his life may be in danger.
“What do you want from me,” he weeps.