Chapter Text
six
You were six when you first noticed him.
A boy your age, with big, dark eyes and a soft complexion. He must have lived somewhere in the same apartment complex as you, because you saw his mother whisk him up the stairs once.
You had the chance to meet him one sticky, summer day.
Your mother heard the jingle first. The ice cream truck. She pushed a wad of cash in your grubby hands and sent you downstairs, eager to get your hyper self out of the house for a moment of peace. You skipped happily down the apartment stairs.
"Chocolate, vanilla, cookies and cream. Chocolate, vanilla, I'm gonna scream! If you don't...gimme...iiice creeaaaaa—ah!" Your self-composed song came to a surprised halt as you nearly toppled over a lump on the bottom step.
It was that boy.
"Hey! Don't sit there." Your pout dropped open when he looked up, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.
"I—I'm s—sorry..."
He got up to move, but you ran in front of him. "Why are you crying?"
The boy shook his head, shying away from you.
"Tell me." You went to grab his arm, but a huge, reddish-purple mark stopped you cold. "Oh! You're hurt?"
Now you were looking at him closely, and you saw a similar red mark on the side of his mouth. He turned away from you. "Go away."
You wanted to say something, but a loud jingle reminded you of your initial quest. "Ice cream!" you gasped, and snatched up his hand to tug him down to the street.
The ice cream man smiled as you both approached. "What can I get you kids?"
You ordered a chocolate cone for yourself—without nuts, of course, because eww—and you turned to the boy. "Pick one!"
"Huh?" The boy was shocked. At your insistence, he chose a superhero-themed ice pop. You gave the money to the ice cream man, stuffing the change impatiently in your pocket after. You both thanked the man and sat on the curb with your treats.
"It's hot. And ice cream makes you feel good." You bit into the cold chocolate, and the boy watched you with confused eyes. "Do you feel good now?"
He gave an experimental lick of his own popsicle. "...A little."
You were halfway through your ice cream when the most important question popped into your head. "What's your name?"
"Kim D—Dokja."
Excitedly, you told him yours. Your beaming smile was timidly returned.
"Dokja," you said after finishing the dessert. "It's too hot. Let's go play at my house!"
For the first time, Kim Dokja looked a bit hopeful. "Is that okay?"
"Yes! Let's go." And you proceeded to grab his hand with your sticky one and lead him back up the stairs. A wash of cold air greeted you two.
"Mama! I have a new friend. Can Dokja play with me, pleeeaseee?"
Your mother's eyes widened the instant Kim Dokja came into view. She coughed, trying to hide her immense distress at the sight of such a young child bearing such pain. "Yes, of course he can stay. Um, Dokja-yah, where do you live? I should tell your...father?" At his flinch, she quickly said, "Mother. I'll tell your mother that you're here."
Kim Dokja gave her the information while you wiggled impatiently beside him. Your mother reminded you to wash your hands first, before she picked up the phone.
After that day, you begged your mother to set up another play date with Kim Dokja. He was nice. And funny. And he also liked to read!
Your mother agreed easily each time you asked, and your new friend was constantly over, morning to evening. On special occasions, Kim Dokja was even allowed to sleep over. The two of you had built such a comfortable space in your home, that it never crossed your mind to go to his.
Summer break ended, and you were sad that you wouldn't get to see your new friend every day.
But, suddenly, Kim Dokja was at your school. Had he always been there?
You asked him, and his frail, fearful little yes made you feel bad. Mother always said you should be kind to others, and you knew you had been mean just now. So you grabbed his shoulders and hugged him. "I'm so happy! Now we can be best friends all the time. Forever!"
He flailed in your hold, before tentatively squeezing back. "Okay."
From then on, the two of you were attached at the hip. Kim Dokja came over to your house often, so often, in fact, that if you were any older and wiser you would have realized the truth. Your mom was wise. She ushered in little Dokja, and while you proudly showed him the challenging book you managed to read all on your own, your mother returned a smile of reassurance and worry to the grateful one that Kim Dokja's mother offered.
At school, some of the teachers affectionately called you "double trouble." You had a knack for dragging Kim Dokja into your harebrained schemes, and despite getting him into trouble, he was happy because he was with you. The teachers never scolded you two very hard, anyways.
"I love Dokja, mama," you said one day after he left your house. "Can he stay here forever with me?"
"No, dear. He can't."
You whined that it isn't fair! and he is your bestest friend! so why couldn't he be with you?
"He has his own family," your mother responded, but she looked rather uncomfortable to say it. The truth was, she wished more than anything that that sweet boy could be welcomed into a more loving home. But there was nothing to be done.
A brilliant thought entered your little mind. "One day, I'm going to marry him so he has to stay."
Your mother was already in full support of your childish dream.
Everyone at school also knew that there was no Kim Dokja without you, and there was no you without Kim Dokja—all the way through the final year of elementary school.
And then you moved.
fourteen
"This pathetic twig went down too easy, today. Hey! Hey, Song Minwoo, should we make him beg?"
Kim Dokja was dizzy on the floor of the school hallway. His head had struck the tile when they'd shoved him, and he could already tell where the bruises would form on his body. At least this time they didn't stuff his head down the toilet to literally eat shit...
But this time they had stolen his phone. And a chapter containing a pivotal moment in TWSA had just dropped.
So Kim Dokja was highly considering begging in order to get that phone back.
Before he could decide, a classmate wedged herself in between him and Song Minwoo. He only caught a glimpse of her ear before she faced his bully head on, but something about her made his heart race—no one had ever dared to interfere in these tormenting sessions before.
"Stop," she said in a low voice.
Her uniform was crisp and clean from the back, and her willingness to step in was the mark of someone confident, yet uninformed. She must be that new transfer student that arrived today.
"You're the new girl, right?" said Song Minwoo eagerly, and Kim Dokja wanted to scoff. She must be pretty. "Let me help you out. You should avoid losers like him—here, I'll show you around campus."
Before Song Minwoo could wrap his meaty fingers around her shoulder, she lunged forwards.
Is she hugging him?! thought Kim Dokja, before she swung her leg around to kick Song Minwoo's out from under him, slamming him hard to the ground. Her hair cascaded around her face as she loomed over the bully.
Kim Dokja felt a sick satisfaction at the whimpered flinch of Song Minwoo as she pretended to go in for a punch to the face.
"Don't touch me," she hissed. "And don't you fucking dare touch Kim Dokja ever again."
The sound of his name made him jolt, and not from surprise that the new student knew his name, but because it was your voice ringing loud and clear, declaring his name.
You pushed a hand back through your hair to see properly, and Kim Dokja could now see your face perfectly (and it was a rather perfect face). His heart thumped in his chest as his mind melted like a popsicle.
Three years.
You snatched the phone out of Song Minwoo's hand and kicked his groaning body away.
"Next time, I'll kill you."
Perhaps Kim Dokja should have been afraid or concerned at your violent outburst—so unlike the you that he knew before—but he only had one thought: You were cool like Yoo Joonghyuk.
It seemed you possessed the ability to intimidate with your expression like Yoo Joonghyuk, too, because Song Minwoo and his cronies quickly scampered away and down the hall. You finally turned, face softening, and your captivating gaze locked on to him.
"Are you some kind of black belt?"
It was so, ridiculously far from what Kim Dokja had hoped to say to you if he ever had the chance to see you again, but it was the first thing that popped out of his mouth. His brain was too scrambled at your presence to think straight.
At his words, though, a dusting of pink swept across your cheeks. Yeah, you're definitely pretty.
"You remember how I did taekwondo?" Kim Dokja vaguely recalled it, but he had never joined your lessons. He pocketed his phone that you offered. "I worked really hard at it in middle school...it was a good stress-reliever..."
You looked as if you wanted to say more, but then your mouth clamped shut.
He stared at you, and you stared back at him.
"D—Dokja-ya," you said at last, ducking your head. Your body trembled once, twice, and you fidgeted with your fingers. "I missed you."
Kim Dokja was glad you weren't looking at him right then, because his body flushed red. His schoolboy crush on you hadn't faded in the least, and he willed away any thoughts of it because you had only just returned and certainly weren't feeling anything of the sort. You were his only friend (if he could still hope to call you that?) and he cherished you too much to ever risk losing that companionship.
But he had missed you. Painfully. He had never been more thankful to still be alive than in that moment, seeing you once again.
It was a once-unattainable dream. And now you were a reality.
Kim Dokja called your name, and when you lifted your head he grasped your hands in his. "I missed you, too."
Your smile was blinding. Dazzling. Kim Dokja felt his head go woozy, but this time it was a pleasant sensation. Then he was wrapped in something even more pleasant and warm—your embrace.
"Dokja-ya, let's go have lunch. Oh, did you bring enough food? I have extra, mama sent me way too much for the first day, and I have these Japanese onigiri..." You prattled on, just as bubbly and sweet as he remembered, and Kim Dokja was sure that stars dotted his eyes as he gazed at you fondly. "...and—ehh? Are you listening? Wait, let's go to the nurse first and get your head checked. You fell? Or they hit you there?"
Your hands fluttered over his face with light touches. Kim Dokja was about to lose it.
"Both," Kim Dokja murmured. He wasn't concerned in the least about his head, but if it meant more time with you, and you fussing over him like that, then he was more than willing to go.
You nodded and tugged him along. Kim Dokja was acutely aware of the way your fingers laced together, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Dokja," you spoke seriously. "If they ever bother you again—tell me, so I can beat their asses to hell."
Kim Dokja smiled and promised, "I will."
Satisfied, you continued walking with the focus and determination of a military commander. Then you stopped. "Um...I actually don't know where the nurse's office is..."
For the first time in three years, Kim Dokja let loose a laugh filled with pure happiness.
He hadn't felt so free in a long, long time.
seventeen
"What is Yoo Joonghyuk up to now in Ways of Survival?" You asked as you both lounged by the window of an empty classroom during break.
The eager expression on Dokja's face made your insides all warm and gooey.
As he spoke, you filled his hands with karaage and onigiri (you had learned that he liked the tuna mayo ones the best) that your mother had prepared. Though your family had hated the majority of your three years in Tokyo before your father jumped at the chance to return to Seoul, your mother had taken a shine to Japanese cooking, and regularly made them for your school lunches. She always packed extra for Dokja.
"...and this regression might be the best one yet, because he has nearly all of his companions by his side. So in the latest chapter..."
You listened intently, offering your input and own questions here and there. Coming home to find Dokja's new obsession with a web novel was a bit surprising, but not so much once you learned of the history behind it.
You pushed that train of thought out of your head. It never failed to raise the most gut-wrenching fear in your body, drowning your heart and mind in agonizing distress.
Dokja kept talking, and you were satisfied to listen. Though you were an avid reader yourself, something about Dokja's love for Ways of Survival made it a more thrilling experience to hear him tell the story from his own mouth. The novel was captivating when told through him; it was a bit...lackluster when read on its own (not that you would ever admit that, even under supreme torture).
Eventually, the conversation drifted to more pressing things—the final year of high school. University. Though it was only two weeks into the school year, already these important life decisions were weighing on you all.
"I want to go to the same university," you said, and not for the first time.
Dokja argued back, "But you can do so much more than me, and go to a better school."
I want to go wherever you are, you idiot, you thought, a bit tired that he seemed to never understand this fact.
He was listing all of the reasons why you were supposedly destined for bigger and better things, when the sun caught his eyes. Dark grey suddenly paled and sparkled, his thick lashes glowed, and you were struck dumb.
He really is a beautiful idiot.
You were in love, so stupidly in love, and Kim Dokja could not get the hint no matter what you did.
But there was one thing you had yet to try.
Your eyes dropped to his plush lips, slightly glistening as he wet them to continue speaking. Already, your hands were shaking at the idea, but the feeling had overwhelmed you to the point where you couldn't bear to contain your heart any longer. And you had never been one to hold back when it came to Kim Dokja.
So you steeled your nerves (they still made you bite your quivering lip) and interrupted him.
"Dokja. Can we try something new?"
High school had abruptly switched from hell to heaven the day you returned into Kim Dokja's life.
You had always treated him like he had value, even as kids, and even as you grew older and realized that the constant rotation of injuries littering his body weren't because of any sort of clumsiness.
With you, he felt like he could just...be. Not the son of a murderer. A victim of abuse. A failed suicide attempt. Not the invisible and unambitious student by his peers. And not even Dokja, the only child, alone in every sense of the word.
With you, he was just Kim Dokja—an obsessed web novel geek, a guy more witty and clever than anyone knew, and your best friend. And much less alone.
In your eyes, he was enough.
"Dokja." He knew it was something important at your tone. "Can we try something new?"
Kim Dokja was deeply familiar with your cheeky and playful schemes. You would cock your eyebrow, tilt your head in an alluring sort of way, and ask him to join you. And he could never resist.
This wasn't your usual approach.
Your lashes were lowered, lacking confidence as you worried at your bottom lip. Kim Dokja was a touch concerned, but it was you—you whom he trusted more than anyone in the world, more than himself, and so he said, "Yes."
When you finally looked up, your gaze on him was intense. He inhaled sharply as you leaned in intimately, sliding your palms along his cheeks.
And you kissed him.
You. Kissed. Him.
Kim Dokja couldn't move. Then his brain rebooted, just in time to register the softness of your lips before you pulled away.
"Oh." A blush graced your cheeks as you looked away, hurt in your eyes. "...I see."
"Wait—" he gasped out. "Wait, what—?"
You sucked in a deep breath, as if you were trying not to cry. "I like you, Dokja. Actually, I've been in love with you since were were children, and I just thought...since this was maybe our last school year together, I should...well, you don't have to feel the same, of course. I understand...um, I hope we can still be friends...I would never let it interfere with that or anything..."
As your voice became smaller and smaller, Kim Dokja was stuck on one, singular thought: You were in love with him.
And he couldn't help but ask, still unbelieving, "You're really in love with me?"
"Yes." You sounded afraid, but resolute.
Kim Dokja's heart was going to burst. Then the feeling rushed out of him like water from a geyser.
"I love you. I've always loved you, ever since we were kids. I never thought you could—" he choked, suddenly overcome with emotion.
"Oh." You said, your tone coloring with relief. The gleam returned to your eyes. "I see!"
The silence after where you stared at one another was very brief.
You both moved at the same time, your lips pressing together again. Kim Dokja felt you smile into the kiss, and he returned it as your lips met over and over.
Your hands went up to grip the collar of his uniform, and his found your waist. The kisses became slick as you both experimented—a nibble on your bottom lip, the way he'd always craved to do when you bit it nervously; a lick at the seam of your lips after you tilted your head for better access; a tug of his hair that made him gasp into your mouth, prompting you to take him in deeper. Your hands were everywhere as he pushed you against the wall, like you couldn't get enough of him. Just as he couldn't get enough of you.
Riiiiing!
The shrill bell went off, and you both ripped apart from one another.
Classmates trickled in from the lunch period, too wrapped up in their own gossip and worries to notice the flustered and rumpled pair trying to catch their breaths.
"Uh, we should—"
"Let's get back—"
You both stumbled over your words and looked away shyly. But your eyes were drawn back to the other. Even after you took your seats, the class had settled around you, and the teacher had made their appearance, you both couldn't help the frequent glances.
A sharp call of your name made you whip forwards in your seat. "And Kim Dokja, too! Stop mooning over each other and get back to work."
The class giggled at your embarrassment, but you both smiled to yourselves.
Life was already so much sweeter with the one Kim Dokja loved loving him back.
twenty-eight
You knew it was Ways of Survival the instant the dokkaebi revealed itself. Fortunately, you had absorbed all of the knowledge Dokja shared through his detailed, almost daily, recaps of the story.
Unfortunately—you were not with Kim Dokja the day it all went to hell.
But now, after recent developments and the reports gathered from loyal followers in your group, you had a good idea of where he might be. You were headed towards the station rumored to house prophets.
You ran through the streets near Gwanghwamun station, when a group in front of a local shrine caught your eye. Standing apart from the others was a cute young boy in a backwards baseball cap, and he spoke with a man...
Your heart leapt and stumbled over itself in excitement.
"Kim Dokja!"
You saw his eyes widen just before you crashed into him, sweeping him into a bone-crushing hug. He held you back just as strongly. You breathed in his scent as he whispered your name repeatedly like a prayer.
When the chaste contact wasn't enough, you drew up to press your forehead to his. "I knew you would survive."
He exhaled slowly. "I knew you would as well. I mean, I talked your ear off about Ways of Survival enough times..."
"Good thing, right?"
"Great thing," he said, voice thick with emotion. His nose brushed yours, a silent request for permission.
You responded with your lips.
It was nothing too sensual, but your kiss was still filled with the passion and longing of being separated for any length of time in such a dangerous world. Aware of your gawking audience, you kept it disappointingly brief.
"I heard about the published regressor novel," you said, waggling your eyebrows. "You petty, petty man."
Dokja had the grace to look a bit embarrassed. He grumbled, "It's so obviously plagiarized! They deserve to be humbled."
You laughed, his lovable pout prompting you to kiss it again. "I very much agree. Especially since it helped me find you quicker."
His hold on you grew stiff, and you spotted the shame in his gaze. "I've been looking everywhere. I wanted to leave to find you, so badly, but I couldn't abandon—the plot—"
"Dokja, hush." You cupped his cheeks and he leaned into your touch. "I understand and I don't blame you one bit." Dokja seemed to relax at your words, knowing you to be honest with him about your feelings. "In fact, I might have to smack you if you did stray from the story...because the Kim Dokja I know and love would never do such a thing."
A sheepish expression crossed Dokja's face. He rubbed the ring on your left hand and brought it to his lips; then he pulled the chain around his neck out from under his robe. Your ring's twin was looped through.
"I was afraid to damage or lose it. Now that we fight constantly with fists and swords," he explained. You nodded in understanding, having become familiar with constant battle as well.
All of your taekwondo mastery had come in handy. When paired with your knowledge of the world—you were a formidable and unstoppable force during these early scenarios.
You had been with the Wanderers the last few weeks. When the apocalypse came, you were visiting his mother to tell her about your engagement. You certainly weren't asking for her permission, but it was her son, and you felt strange not informing her that you would soon be family. In the legal sense only, of course.
Dokja would understand—he knew it was something you felt compelled to do, even if he had no desire to join you—but he hadn't known when you would go.
You were a bit afraid of his reaction to finding out you had begun the scenarios in a high-level prison.
He hesitated before he asked, "Are your parents...?"
"My mother survived." You didn't need to elaborate, and Dokja's fingers tightened around yours in comfort. "I left her with the Wanderers. She'll be safe there...the king will protect her."
They were familiar acquaintances, after all.
You were conflicted about telling him. In the end, you had no desire to sour your long-awaited reunion, and so you left it for another day.
Today, at least, you would savor this sweet moment with your beloved. And his new companions.
"Um..."
It was the boy. He looked up at you with big, expectant eyes, strongly reminding you of a young Dokja.
"This is Lee Gilyoung. He was on the train with me when it all began," introduced Dokja.
You squatted to grab Lee Gilyoung's hands. "Thank you, Gilyoung-ah, for keeping him safe for me."
Then you kissed his hands gently in gratitude, and Lee Gilyoung's face flushed bright red. He leaned back and tugged Dokja down to his level to whisper in his ear. "Hyung, she's really pretty."
"I know," Dokja stage-whispered back with a grin. You pressed your lips together to suppress a laugh.
There was a call of your name, and you straightened to see a welcome and familiar face. "Yoo Sangah!"
You reacquainted yourself with the kind coworker of your fiancé, and as you chatted, Dokja trailed behind with a palm hovering over your lower back. Then, he took you to meet the others and your hand found his again.
You were overwhelmed with joy as you saw how genuinely these people cared for your Kim Dokja. He deserved more people in his life that cared for his well-being besides you, and in a ruined world he would need all the people he could get. At each new introduction, you held him a little tighter.
Dokja finally noticed the glisten that had gathered under your lashes. "Is something wrong—?!"
"No," you said with a laugh. "I'm just really happy."
Dokja's panic was squashed immediately, and he settled his arms fully around you once more. "I'm happy, too," he murmured.
The two of you stayed like that for a moment.
"By the way." You smirked and traced your fingers along the collar of his robe teasingly. "Where did your clothes go?"
Dokja groaned, "They burned."
You were looking forward to hearing that story (spoiler: you ended up hating that shitty-ass story), and contented yourself with his presence until there was an appropriate time to catch up later.
Yes, it was not an ideal situation, this apocalypse; but somehow it was just right for the two of you. You and Dokja would figure it out together, the way you always did.
You would fight, and you would live. Together.