Chapter Text
★☆★
“Where is he?” Han Sooyoung questioned softly, hands gripping her glass of water tighter.
The young woman looked out the window she sat next to, the world outside dark from the pouring rain and late hour. It contrasted the little ramen shop greatly with its warm lights and atmosphere, quiet music filling the silence as the smell of food filled the air. However, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the darkened world, something desperate and scared slowly baring its fangs within her.
To her side Yoo Joonghyuk clenched his jaw, “I don’t know.”
She met his eyes and saw her worry reflected by the tension of his shoulders, eyes reflecting emotions he so desperately tried to hide away. Quietly she bit her lip, leg beginning to bounce in agitation as the seconds dragged by.
“Do you think…?” She didn’t want to finish the thought, but from the way Joonghyuk looked at her he already knew.
“…It’s possible.”
Sickly dread constricted her throat, she didn’t want it to be true but the more time passed the more sure she became. She’s known something has been wrong for weeks now, seen the signs slowly piling up but was unable to do anything. Foolishly she had thought it was in her head, thought that if she just stuck close to his side the same thing would never happen again.
“Fuck, I can’t do this again,” she muttered to herself, but Joonghyuk heard regardless.
He pressed the side of his foot against hers comfortingly as he pulled his phone out, already dialing the person that filled their thoughts. Each unanswered ring felt like a nail in the coffin, fear growing more and more potent between the pair. It rung one last time before switching to the automated voicemail.
“The person you are trying to reach is unable to come to the phone now…”
Joonghyuk’s expression was as dim as a man’s sent to the gallows, free hand clenching so tightly his nails dug into the flesh of his palm. Quickly he redialed, not waiting for the voicemail to finish while holding his breath.
Hurriedly she pulled her phone out as well and started texting the man, praying he was just asleep and would respond soon enough. However, the more and more they tried the more their hope dimmed. Their hands shook as they looked at each other grimly, she could feel tears welling up but refused to cry.
“We need to—,” she didn’t need to finish.
Joonghyuk grabbed her wrist and pulled her up, dragging her through the ramen shop towards the door. She grabbed their umbrellas and quickly opened one the moment they got outside, standing close to Joonghyuk under it as he dialed the emergency line, hand still wrapped around her wrist.
It barely ringed before the operator picked it up. She couldn’t hear what the operator said but she could see the resolute look on Joonghyuk’s face as they walked toward the subway. Rain poured all around them, water splashing up and coating their pants.
With a deep breath Joonghyuk began to speak, his voice slightly wavering, “We’re calling for a wellness check for our friend Kim Dokja who has a past of suicidal tendencies and attempted three years back. He’s been showing some concerning behaviors these past few weeks and just flaked on a meet up without a word and won’t answer any calls or texts.”
Sooyoung pressed her shoulder closer to his as they walked, his grip on her wrist tightening. He’s silent for a moment as he listens to the operator.
“He lives at ******,” and with that began to list every little moment that left them with a bad taste in their mouths recently, their steps speeding up.
She directed their steps, leading Joonghyuk through the crowd with expertise so he could focus on relaying details. Once they entered the station she quickly closed the umbrella, her hand coming to lightly tap his hand so he’d let go of her. They pulled their cards out and quickly entered the platform, his hand finding her wrist again.
When he lowered the phone from his ear his eyes found hers again, and within them she saw only fear. With a shaky breath she tried to smile reassuringly, but she knew it only came off tense.
“Don’t start crying now, the bastard isn’t dead yet.”
“I think you’re closer to crying than me,” he shot back with no heat, the pair falling into tense silence.
♡
“Dokja. Starting now we’re going to read everything again.”
With a start Kim Dokja woke, his pulse thrumming loudly in his ears as sweat dripped down his chilled skin. He gasped for breath like a drowning man, unable to get enough oxygen into his desperate lungs.
He doesn’t know how long it takes but eventually his breathing slows, the night falling quiet once more. With a soft sigh he ran a hand through his damp hair, closing his eyes and trying to lose himself in sensation. He focused on the way his shirt stuck to his back, sweat dripped down his shirt, hand pressed against the couch and pant leg caused pressure on his leg where it had rolled up.
Once he was grounded he threw the blanket off himself and stood, immediately swaying from a bout of dizziness. He bit his lip and made his way to the bathroom, light flickering on the moment he hit the switch, door closing softly behind him. Silently he steadied himself on the counter, eyes slowly rising to the mirror.
Before him stood a man whose eyes were far too old for the body they belonged to, a past of suffering reflected in their irises. Memories best left forgotten could almost be seen dancing in the grey of them, mocking the man. Below said eyes were dark bruises telling the story of long nights, ones plagued by unrest and nightmares.
Beyond the eyes was a young man with pale skin, black hair and thin stature. His arms revealed by the shirt he wore had several faded scars healed long ago, telling a story best left untold, some of the same decorating other parts of his body. Though one had to look closely to spot them, time having worked to make them fade with the memories.
Dokja stared, searching, but for what exactly? Maybe it was for confirmation he was truly alive. Or maybe, just maybe it was the truth he failed to recognize, it hiding just beyond his sight.
Slowly, with the deliberation of someone afraid of breaking, he turned on the water and leaned down. He splashed cold water onto his face, it running down his neck and arms, dripping onto the once dry counter. When he looked up again, his vision blurred slightly from the water in his lashes, the man in the mirror looked slightly more alive.
His mind drifts as he stares, it going to a time long ago. A time that while riddled with challenges had almost seemed peaceful as two people had stood steadily at his side. Two people whose loyalty forever remained unwavering, shielding him in a way no one had before.
Slowly he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as he vanquishes the memory.
I need a cigarette.
★★☆
A boy sat alone on a park bench, legs crossed on it as a novel lay open in his lap. The frigid winter air stiffened his limbs, his jacket and the sun doing little to chase the cold away. However, the boy didn’t move, body as still as a statue, his hand carefully flipping the pages the only indication of life.
He wore a simple white mask, pants slightly torn at the knees from past falls, the tears revealing scabbed knees. The simple grey jacket that hugged his figure was old and slightly too big, the sleeves stained black where they sat on his wrists, edges frayed. Black hair covered his forehead, some falling into his eyes, but the boy never bothered to brush it away.
The palms of the boy were scrapped, the edge of a bruise revealed just above his mask. However, every person who passed didn’t give him a second look, the boy fading into the background like it’s where he belonged. He was no more significant than the grass that coated the ground, it being trampled on without a second thought, some pulling up the blades for fun.
So, he continued to read, body utterly unmoving if it weren’t for the way his eyes roamed the pages, chest moved with his lungs and hand flipped pages. It’s as if he wished to become one with the landscape, to be looked over and forgotten. And that’s what occurred, every gaze slipping past him like water.
That is, until a young girl around the boys age spotted him. She paused in her walk, a contemplative expression claiming her face for a moment before she shrugged and walked straight up to the still boy. Her steps were confident as her eyes shined with curiosity and mischief. In no time she was before him.
“Whatcha reading?” She asked, the boy flinching violently as his eyes snapped up to her, his hands clutching his book tightly.
She smiled in amusement having not expected such a reaction from the boy. For a while he just stared at her with wide grey eyes, body tense as his fingers created indents in the books delicate pages. Slowly he leaned away from her, closing his book and pressing it tightly to his chest, eyes darting around like a scared animal.
Her smile fell to a frown, that’s odd, why isn’t he responding to her?
“You gonna answer?” She asked with a tilt of her head.
“Oh—I’m sorry, what did you ask?” He said quickly.
“I was wondering what you’re reading,” she repeated as she rocked on her feet.
“Um,” he looked at her searchingly before hesitantly uttering the title, “it’s called The Stranger.”
“Haven’t read it,” she bluntly replied. “Do you like reading?”
He slowly nodded and her eyes lit up.
“Cool! I love writing, would you be willing to read some of my works?” She asked excitedly.
“Uh, sure?”
“Great!”
♡
Morning came slowly, rosy fingers of the dawn lazily spreading through what once was the nights kingdom. Kim Dokja sat quietly on the couch with a book open on his lap, the occasional sound of pages turning filling the silence. As the sun came to promise another day Dokja steadily reached over and turned off the lamp that had kept him company in the hours sleep had failed to with a faint click.
His eyes drifted toward the window, eyelids heavy with the weight of another sleepless night. Clouds lazily drifted through the morning sky, unbothered by where the wind would take them or what would come of them. He exhaled a silent breath, all tension in his body fading away as he leaned back and let his eyes fall shut.
Sleep would not come but for a moment he let himself relax and forget all the worries that plagued his mind. Let himself indulge in his desire to stop, for time to pause and let him rot away. However, the world kept spinning and his breathing remained steady, a silent reminder that this was temporary.
Finally, with a heavy heart he closed his novel and placed it carefully onto the side table next to the lamp. He got up slowly, closing his eyes as his vision went black and he swayed slightly, moving only once it faded. Unhurriedly he folded the blanket he had used and draped it over the back of the couch, throw pillow put back into its rightful place.
His eyes scanned the small apartment, dishes sat in the sink, photos and drawings hung on the wall, papers and a laptop sat on the small table, and some toys were strewn across the floor. The wooden floor needed to be swept, pictures dusted, walls wiped down and counters cleaned. He looked to the ceiling with a weary gaze, mind and body dreading the day to come.
He moved with light feet and picked up his phone, not a single message blessed his screen, only the time and his wallpaper stared back. 5:18 the time read and with that he slipped his phone into his pocket and began tidying up.
When finished he went and showered, dressing into a suit for work and then went to the kitchen to begin brewing coffee and heating up some doenjang jjigae for breakfast. Dokja wasn’t a cook, every dish he made nothing special, but over the years he’s improved to the point his food was decent.
Once the soup finished heating up he dished it into two bowls, setting each one down before a seat at the table where a stack of papers and laptop were pushed to the side. Finally, he went to wake the person sleeping soundly in the only bedroom the apartment had.
The door creaked open, light spilling from the morning into the dark room. It was a small room, but that didn’t mean it was bare. The floor was covered in art supplies, plushies and clothes, walls plastered with photos, drawings and pressed leaves, and dresser covered in stickers.
On the bed with yellow covers slept a young girl wearing a dokkaebi onesie, her breathing deep and body relaxed. He expertly navigated the mess before sitting carefully on the edge of the bed, hand coming up to lightly shake her shoulder. The girl groaned quietly, face scrunching up as her eyes remained closed.
“Biyoo,” he called out softly, “it’s time to get up.”
“Mmm.”
“Biyoo.”
“…Don’t want to,” she groaned, turning to her other side.
Dokja smiled softly, fondness for the girl dancing in his eyes.
“I know love, but you have school,” he whispered as he lightly rubbed her shoulder.
“Five more minutes,” she mumbled, eyes staying resolutely shut.
“Your food will be cold by then.”
With a sigh grey eyes that seemed to hold the universe fluttered open, the girl staring at the wall before glancing to him tiredly. She squeezed them shut for a moment again before pushing herself up and rubbing them. He helped her up and they exited the room, walking to the small table where their food sat.
“Thank you, Dad,” she says before beginning to eat silently.
“What did you do with Han Donghoon yesterday?” Dokja eventually asks, voice slicing through the silence.
Biyoo smiles broadly, the action showing off her missing canine, eyes lighting up. He can’t help it and smiles back, though it’s more soft than hers which is filled with excitement.
“Oppa took me to the park and he pushed me on the swings! There were a lot of kids there but they were too loud so I stuck with Oppa. I feel kinda bad though because while we played I got his clothes dirty, but he brushed it off. When we got home he made me do some reading but once I was done he let me watch Supreme King! He was playing—“ the girl rattles off rapidly, failing to catch her fathers slight flinch at the mention of the streamer.
Dokja listens silently, his eyes fixated on the young girl as she speaks. Sleep that once stuck to her slowly dissipated as she spoke, her movements more animated and speech energetic. Her pale skin has a slight glow to it, long black hair mussed from sleep, eyes filled with innocence but also intelligence.
His heart hurts as he watches her, guilt slowly constricting his throat. However, he doesn’t let it show, smile still in place no matter how small. The rest of breakfast is spent with him listening as she talks about her night, mainly talking about Supreme Kings streams and Donghoon.
By the time she falls silent they’ve finished, Dokja getting up to place the dishes in the sink.
“Go get dressed, I’ll do your hair after,” he throws over his shoulder as he begins to clean the dishes.
“Okay!” She says brightly as she leaves for her room, slightly humming under her breath.
When she returns she is dressed in her school uniform, brush and rubber band in hand. He dries his hands on a towel and comes to stand behind her, Biyoo swinging her legs as she sits in her chair. She hands him her brush without a word and he begins to gently untangle her hair.
“What would you like?”
“Can you do a French braid?”
“I can,” he responds easily.
♡
Dokja stands on the roof of MinoSoft, the cool autumn breeze ruffling the edges of his old coat. He leans his arms on the wall that surrounds the roof, gaze wandering over the world below. A cigarette sits between his fingers and slowly he takes a drag, the smoke filling his lungs comfortably.
As he gazes below he takes in every detail, everything from the way the sun reflects off windows to how shadows stretch. People below go about their days, some grabbing lunch while others are on their way from one place to another. From such a distance they seem so insignificant but Dokja knows better than to take such a perception as truth.
These people, people who seem so small in the wake of the endless sky, are all living beings with stories of their own. It’s unlikely he’ll ever meet them, ever learn about what past has shaped them, but he finds that despite that fact he can appreciate them from a distance. No, he wouldn’t care or notice if one vanished one day but he knows that to someone out there these people mean something.
I want to jump, the thought is sudden but Dokja doesn’t react, simply bringing the cigarette back up to his lips, eyes not leaving the view.
Quietly he wonders what would happen if he did that, what would come in the wake of his death.
First, the people below would scream, many watching in horror as he fell while others would cover their eyes. They would hear as his body hit the concrete below, watch as his body became disfigured and see blood coat the ground.
Second, someone would likely call in his death and medics and law enforcement would show up to scrape his body off the pavement. It would be another day for many of them and possibly the first case for another.
Third, his living relatives would be informed. His mother who was released from prison recently would come to learn of her only sons death. His aunt and uncle would scoff and say good riddance. Finally, Biyoo would grieve her only parent, the man who raised her since the beginning.
Fourth, Biyoo would be forced away from the only home she knew, would have to start anew with his mother. She would become the granddaughter of the Underground Killer, be in the care of the woman that hurt him most.
With a sigh Dokja exhales a cloud of smoke, head tilting slightly to the side as he watches a bird fly between the buildings below. He can’t kill himself just yet, not when he has a daughter at home waiting for him. It would be cruel to leave her parentless in this world, forced to fend for herself before she was ready.
At least I no longer have friends who would miss me.
“Ah, there you are Dokja-ssi!” A voice exclaims happily from behind him.
Dokja looks over his shoulder and smiles at the woman out of habit, “Hello Sangah-ssi, why are you up here?”
Her smile is kind, brown hair fluttering in the breeze as she walks up to take the spot next to him.
“I was looking for you, I noticed you had vanished during lunch. How’s the project going?”
He shrugged, taking another drag as he faced away from her as to not get smoke in her face.
“It’s going.”
She laughs softly, “That’s how it always is it seems. Have you eaten yet? You know it’s not good to skip meals.”
He actually hadn’t and wasn’t planning on it, he faces Sangah and the look on her face tells him she already has a suspicion. Despite that he laughs.
“Of course I have, no need to worry Sangah-ssi,” he dismisses easily.
Her eyes narrow slightly but she doesn’t press, her eyes turning to the ground below.
★★☆
“Kim Dokja!”
The boy looked up at his name, eyes instantly finding a young girl walking towards him while waving broadly. She had a backpack on, hair windswept like she had run there, but her smile was no less dimmer despite how she caught her breath.
He nodded at her and slid over on the park bench, making room for the girl. She slipped the bag off her shoulders, dropping it to the concrete with a dull thud before plopping down beside him unceremoniously.
“Have you read the chapter I sent you?” She asked eagerly from beside him.
“Yes.”
“What did ya think of it? Pretty amazing, right?” She remarked with a smirk.
“It was alright,” he deadpanned, fingers brushing over the pages of the novel in his lap.
“What?! Just alright?!” She screeched, the boy flinching from the loud voice.
“Yeah…”
“I don’t even know why I let you read my stuff! It’s never good enough for you despite its genius,” she pouted.
He tilted his head at her, something soft dancing in his eyes. If he weren’t wearing a mask the girl was sure there’d be a small uptick of his lips.
“I never said I didn’t like it or it isn’t good enough, I’m just saying there’s room for improvement.”
“Improvement how?” She asked with narrowed eyes.
He leaned back slightly and looked to the sky, eyes in deep thought as he begun to speak slowly.
“Well… you have too much detail to the point most readers would get bored and struggle to get through. Though, I like more detail if I’m honest but I also like being able to have room for interpretation. It feels like you’re dragging the reader, trying to control their imagination. It’s restricting and even annoying at some points.”
She looked at him in surprise, clearly having not expected such an insight. The boy met her gaze, eyes glinting with something almost apologetic, hand coming to rub the back of his neck. However, he didn’t take back his words, merely waited for her to say her piece.
“…Then what do you think I should do instead?” She inquired quietly.
“Just… keep writing,” he told her, “you’ll improve with time. We both know you’re pretty quick on the uptake after all.”
♡
When Dokja entered the apartment he was immediately met by Donghoon standing in the kitchen making instant ramen while Biyoo sat in front of their computer watching a stream. From the lack of talking he could already guess who’s stream she was watching.
However, her eyes instantly snapped up as he walked in and in no time was rushing to hug him, her arms wrapping around his waist in a vice grip. The teen also turned to face him and gave him a shy smile before placing hot water into the ramen cups.
“Hey Biyoo-ah and Donghoon-ah,” he greets with a smile. “How was school for the both of you?”
“Good!”
‘It was alright,’ Donghoon signs.
“That’s good to hear, what did you guys learn?” He asks.
He leans down and picks up Biyoo, the girl wrapping her arms around his neck with a giggle, the man moving to lean against a kitchen counter so he has a good view of Donghoons hands so he can listen.
Biyoo quickly gives him a long winded rundown of her school day before they both watch Donghoon sign about his. The boy tells him about his technology class mostly, it’s the teen’s favorite class just as music is Biyoo’s. He prods the pair on a few more details before setting Biyoo down and the three of them move to sit at the table, the younger two eating their ramen.
“Is that your dinner?” He asks amused.
Donghoon pauses and smiles guiltily, it enough of an answer for Dokja who just smirks. The laptop sits open in front of Biyoo who continues to watch the Supreme King.
“Just make sure to eat real dinner tomorrow.”
‘Okay.’
They’re silent for a while, the only sound coming from the laptop. Donghoon pulls out his phone and begins scrolling as he eats, headphones staying around his neck. Dokja watches them, letting the peace of the moment sink in.
After some time Donghoon looks up and sets his phone down.
‘Hyung, has tls123 released a new book?’ He asks curiously.
Dokja isn’t surprised by the question as he’s the one who has introduced the teen to the writer after he learned he liked web novels like him. However, hearing the name always throws him off balance to an extent.
“No, not recently. She has been sterilizing some on the web novel platform but it’s behind a pay wall right now so we’ll have to wait till she starts publishing them to get them.”
Donghoon nods and goes back to scrolling, the three of them spending what little time they have together before Dokja must leave for his second job. When the time comes to leave he gets ready and ruffles Donghoons hair and kisses Biyoo’s head before vanishing through the door.