Chapter Text
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“ain...aptain….Captain!”
Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyes snapped open, startling Lee Jihye who was hovering worriedly above him. His head throbbed at the sudden movement, but he pushed through the nausea to sit up.
“Captain!” Lee Jihye said, her eyebrows pulled tight together as she watched him stand on shaky legs, like a newborn calf. “Are you alright? What happened?”
Yoo Jonghyuk vaguely heard her words, but he was too focused on the new information—the memories— from his first life.
“I remember,” Yoo Jonghyuk whispered. “I remember everything now.”
“What? What did you forget?” Lee Jihye said, but Yoo Jonghyuk paid her no mind, focused on meeting the star he’s been chasing all this time. Yoo Jonghyuk practically burst into the room, startling Kim Dokja awake.
Kim Dokja blinked a few times, watching with his mouth wide open as Yoo Jonghyuk dropped to his knees beside his bed. “J-Jonghyuk-ah?!”
That voice. Yoo Jonghyuk would never forget that voice. If there was any doubt as to who the boy in front of him was, it was obliterated at this moment. He didn’t recognize him before, but with the memories of his first life returned to him, he would never miss his star again.
He had always wondered why the Most Ancient Dream seemed so wise and so naive at the same time, but now he knew why. He knew, and it only made him hate the Star Stream even more, for involving a literal child in its sick games.
“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Jonghyuk said, tasting the syllables on his tongue. “Kim Dokja. Kim Dokja. Kim Dokja.”
He has the answers to all your questions.
Before he knew it, a laugh bubbled up from his throat. Once it escaped, there was no end to his hysterics.
“I think he’s finally lost it,” Kim Namwoon conspiratorily whispered to Lee Jihye. She rolled her eyes. “Hey, but you’re not denying it!”
Yoo Jonghyuk made a mental note to increase Kim Namwoon’s training before turning his attention back to the impossible being in front of him. This was his sponsor. This was the Most Ancient Dream. This was Kim Dokja.
He had waited almost two thousand lives to meet him, and now that he was here, he was breathless with the possibilities laid out in front of him. As he gazed up at Kim Dokja, his happiness was quickly replaced with dread as he realized that Kim Dokja was still wearing the too-big school uniform. The wide collar had shifted with his movement, exposing the purple bruises that peeked out from stark white bandages. Yoo Jonghyuk saw the dark bags smudged under Kim Dokja’s eyes and white hot anger surged through him as he recalled the crumbs of information he had carefully put together, worsening as he realized that all those events happened to a young child.
The scenarios were no place for someone as kind as Kim Dokja, but looking at his sponsor’s bruised form, it seems that even without the scenarios greed and hatred still found its roots within people, exposing the ugliest parts of humanity.
“Jonghyuk-ah, stop frowning,” Kim Dokja said, raising a shaky finger to poke the middle of his creased forehead. “You’ll get wrinkles.”
Yoo Jonghyuk slowly reached for that small hand, telegraphing his movements, heart aching more when even this caused Kim Dokja to tense slightly. He gently wrapped his hand around that skinny wrist and brought Kim Dokja’s hand to rest on his cheek.
“You’re...warm?” Kim Dokja said, eyes wide. “Wow, I might actually belong to the psych ward. Dr. Jin’s gonna do that disappointed frown thing again.”
“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Jonghyuk said, thrilled at how Kim Dokja didn’t shy away from his touch. “‘Belong to the psych ward’? What do you mean?”
“What do I mean?” Kim Dokja said, tilting his head slightly to the side. “You’re not supposed to be here right now. You’re not even real.”
The colour drained from Yoo Jonghyuk’s face. Kim Dokja thought they were hallucinations?
“Of course,” Kim Dokja nodded, and Yoo Jonghyuk belatedly realized that he must have said that out loud. “You’re just a fictional character—a very well developed one—but still fictional nonetheless. Unless you somehow magically popped up from my phone, but I’m not crazy enough to think that that’s possible.” He paused, looking at Yoo Jonghyuk’s companions standing near the doorway. “Or maybe I am, if you’re all here right now.”
Yoo Jonghyuk immediately grasped the meaning behind Kim Dokja’s words. He remembered the woman’s— Kim Dokja’s mother—words.
The Final Wall is a living being that has its own consciousness. For some reason, it decided to connect two parallel world lines together using… an unknown method. The Most Ancient Dream is in that parallel world.
This so-called unknown method used Kim Dokja’s phone as a medium to connect their world lines together. It allowed Kim Dokja to interfere with the scenarios without consequence, and it was how he was able to avoid the surveillance of the Star Stream while pulling off his miraculous stunts.
Kim Dokja toyed with their lives. To him, it was literally a game and they were his puppets, his toys to push and pull in any direction he wanted for the sake of his own entertainment. He was no better than the sadistic constellations of the Star Stream.
Yoo Jonghyuk thought that he might have been angry at this, at being played with like he was a stray ant and Kim Dokja was a bored child. But after everything that he had gone through, after that first life where he asked for the regression stigma, the only emotion running through him was relief. He was infinitely glad that Kim Dokja didn’t have to face any probability storms, that he didn’t have to suffer any consequences for Yoo Jonghyuk’s sake.
“Dokja,” Yoo Jonghyuk said, cheek still pressed against a warm palm. “This is real.”
“Yes,” Kim Dokja nodded, swaying slightly. “You’re absolutely very real.”
“You—are you alright?”
“‘M fine, Jonghyuk-ah,” Kim Dokja slurred, and Yoo Jonghyuk cursed himself for missing how his cheeks were flushed even as the rest of his face remained pale. “Really, you worry too much,” he said, before slumping over, eyes fluttering closed.
Yoo Jonghyuk caught him before he fell off the bed, expression darkening at the heat radiating through the thin uniform. Warm breaths puffed against his skin, scalding him.
Yoo Jonghyuk felt the trust his companions held in him as they all frantically searched for anything that could help Kim Dokja, very obviously confused but still choosing to hold their questions and following his commands unhesitatingly. They managed to find a small first aid kit, and let out a collective sigh of relief when they found a bottle fever reducing medications and some cooling patches.
Yoo Jonghyuk placed the cooling pad on Kim Dokja’s forehead and roused him enough to change him into pajamas and tried to coax him into taking some medicine. Kim Dokja took one look at Yoo Jonghyuk’s outstretched palm, grabbed the pills, and swallowed them dry before huddling under the blankets and dozing off again.
Yoo Jonghyuk caught Kim Namwoon’s impressed look as he left the room and beckoned the company into the living room to explain everything now that Kim Dokja’s temperature was finally down to safer levels.
“Captain,” Kim Namwoon said, sprawled over the couch. “Is it just me, or does this kid seem really, really, really familiar?”
“He’s the Most Ancient Dream,” Yoo Jonghyuk said simply.
“Uh, he’s the what now?”
“He’s the Most Ancient Dream.”
Kim Namwoon’s jaw dropped. “Wh—What? And you’re just saying that like it’s no big deal? Oh yeah, the weather is nice today and also did you know that the strongest constellation to ever exist is this kid laying right there?”
Yoo Jonghyuk nodded, the corner of his mouth rising at Kim Namwoon’s expression. “When I collapsed earlier,” he said, voice quiet as he gazed at the slightly open bedroom door. “I regained my memories from my first life.”
“Captain,” Lee Hyunsung frowned. “You were missing memories?”
“Apparently I was,” Yoo Jonghyuk said. “I didn’t even realize they weren’t there.”
He took a deep breath. “That first life was, for lack of a better word, the perfect turn. We reached the end of the scenarios, safe and whole. We didn’t have to sacrifice anything to reach the epilogue. The scenarios ended, and we started rebuilding the world again. Peace was mostly restored.”
Yoo Jonghyuk huffed out a small breath. “After thinking about the struggles we faced in all the regressions after that one, that first life seems a bit anticlimactic.” He looked at his companions, eyes trailing over their scars. The scenarios left a mark on all of them, but they pushed through and survived.
“We didn’t sacrifice anything,” Lee Jihye said, and Yoo Jonghyuk felt a spark of pride at her observation. “But he did.”
There was one thing left. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, his guilt silencing any sound he might have made. What was he doing? They deserved to know this too.
“Captain?” Uriel said. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
Yoo Jonghyuk nodded, his next words stuck in his throat.
“No rush, Captain,” Lee Hyunsung said, smiling reassuringly at him. “We’ll wait for you.”
Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyes stung at the easy admission of trust. After a few moments, he managed to croak out, “I was the one who asked for it. The regression stigma.” He laughed humourlessly at the absurdity of the situation. He spent centuries wandering with nothing but hatred tethering his soul to his body. He despised the cruel being who cursed him with this skill, only to find out that it was him who did it to himself. “I’m—”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Kim Namwoon interrupted. Yoo Jonghyuk kept his eyes trained on the worn carpet. “The past is in the past, you can’t change it anymore. There’s no point in dwelling in the guilt of how much you caused us to suffer or whatever misguided thoughts you have swirling in that big brain of yours.”
Yoo Jonghyuk stayed silent, and so did everyone else.
Kim Namwoon continued, “You can’t change the past, but you can change the future, and that all depends on what you do today.” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you just going to wallow in your guilt like this? The Captain I know isn’t this lame.”
Uriel lightly smacked the back of Kim Namwoon’s head. “You brat,” she said. “When did you get so wise, huh?”
“I learned it all from you, Uriel-noona,” Kim Namwoon said, smiling widely.
“Stop sucking up,” Uriel rolled her eyes. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you said earlier.” She turned her attention back to Yoo Jonghyuk.
“But he’s right. Captain, you can’t change the past,” she said, meeting his eyes. “What are we going to do now?”
Yoo Jonghyuk scrubbed a hand across his face, lips twitching. He took a deep breath, looking at the little group around him. “What are we going to do? We’re going to take care of our constellation, of course.”
There was a resounding chorus of agreement.
---
Yoo Jonghyuk stared blankly at the pantry. There was a jar of peanut butter, and upon opening it, he found that it was littered with green mold. He eyes the small, dusty pile of instant noodles shoved in the corner with distaste. Unacceptable.
Kim Namwoon gagged dramatically, pinching the corner of a bag containing what might have been a steamed bun in the past. “It’s furry!”
“Stop waving it around!” Lee Jihye said. “And don’t shove it in my face!”
Uriel snatched the bag away and deftly launched it straight to the garbage bin, closing the lid with a quick snap.
“Captain,” Lee Hyunsung said, his face pinched tightly as he looked at the barren refrigerator.
Yoo Jonghyuk’s head throbbed. “I know.”
This was absolutely unacceptable.
He returned to Kim Dokja’s room and tried to rouse the sleeping form. He wished that he could let him rest, but they needed to get some food and more medicine. And for that, they needed money. “Dokja,” Yoo Jonghyuk said, gently placing a hand on his bony shoulder. “Dokja, wake up.”
Kim Dokja groaned, curling away from the touch. “No, no, m’sorry, please, no.”
“Dokja, it’s okay,” Yoo Jonghyuk soothed. “It’s me. Yoo Jonghyuk.”
“....J’nghyuk-ah?”
“Yes, it’s me,” he said, pushing the sweaty bangs out of Kim Dokja’s eyes. “No, wait, don’t fall asleep yet. You’re sick and we need a little money to buy food and medicine. Where’s your wallet?”
“Wallet?”
“Yes, we need some money. Just for food and medicine, I promise. We’ll pay you back later, okay?”
Kim Dokja frowned and tried to sit up. Yoo Jonghyuk hurriedly placed a hand behind his back to support him. “No. Don’t need that. Too expensive.”
Now it was Yoo Jonghyuk’s turn to frown. He said, “It’s not expensive if you need it.”
But Kim Dokja only shook his head stubbornly and said, “No, can’t afford it. No money sent this month. Need to wait...get paid next week.”
The rage that swept through Yoo Jonghyuk at this moment was unparalleled. He looked down at the feverish Kim Dokja, so sick that he thought they were hallucinations, and wanted nothing more than to raze the entire world to the ground. If it couldn’t even treat this one child right, then there was no need for it to exist.
Kim Dokja tugged weakly at his shirt and clumsily patted his cheek, almost missing. “Jonghyuk-ah? Stop...No frowning. Don’t—don’t regress again, okay?”
Yoo Jonghyuk steadied his breaths. “I won’t regress again. Do you have anyone else that could help? Any relatives?”
Yoo Jonghyuk didn’t mention anything about parents, he already figured out that Kim Dokja didn’t have a happy home life. But, there had to be someone else to watch him, he was still underage. They couldn’t just have left him unsupervised...right?
“Dokja, please tell me you have an adult taking care of you.”
Kim Dokja opened his mouth to speak and Yoo Jonghyuk already knew that he was just going to parrot the words back. “Nevermind, you don’t need to say that. Is there anyone—anyone at all—you could think of that would help you?”
At this moment, three sharp knocks rang through the apartment.
“Oi, brat,” a voice came through the door. “I know you’re in there, open the door.”
Kim Dokja blinked. “...Old man?”
“You know him?” Yoo Jonghyuk said. Kim Dokja nodded and tried to stand. “No,” he said, gently pushing Kim Dokja down again. “I’ll take care of it.”
“No, it’s fine,” Kim Dokja mumbled, flipping the covers off, shivering when his feet met the cold ground. “I can do it.”
“You little brat,” the old man said, knocking getting progressively louder. “Don’t make me bust this flimsy piece of wood down!”
Kim Dokja stumbled to the apartment door, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Yoo Jonghyuk tensed as he unlocked the door, ready to pull Kim Dokja behind him if need be.
“You’re so loud,” Kim Dokja said, opening the door to reveal a scowling old man. “My neighbours are going to complain about the noise.”
“I wouldn’t need to be so loud if you opened the door earlier, and shit, brat, you look like you’re dead on your feet.”
“Jus’ a little cold,” Kim Dokja said, tightening the blanket around his shoulders.
The old man squinted at the way Kim Dokja was practically slumped against the door frame. “Right, okay. You’re totally convincing me right now.”
Kim Dokja mumbled something under his breath and the old man sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Here,” he said, holding out the takeout bag. “You didn’t come to work today, so I was getting a little worried.”
Kim Dokja pulled the door open wider, and the old man tensed when he saw Yoo Jonghyuk’s form hovering behind Kim Dokja. “Brat,” he said tightly. “Who is this?”
“That’s Jonghyuk-ah,” Kim Dokja said. The old man stared.
“And?”
“We’re family friends,” Yoo Jonghyuk said, the lie slipping smoothly off his lips.
The old man was unconvinced. “Why has the brat never mentioned you before?”
Lee Hyunsung stepped up, a charming smile firmly plastered on his face. “That’s because we went abroad quite a few years ago, and lost contact. We just returned, and found out about Dokja’s...living conditions, so we paid him a visit.”
“Oi,” the old man said, turning to Kim Dokja. A tick mark appeared on his forehead at how Kim Dokja was practically glued to Yoo Jonghyuk’s side. “Is this true?”
“Yeah,” Kim Dokja said, grinning dazedly. “I’ve known them for a reaalllyy long time.”
The old man sighed and stepped into the apartment at Kim Dokja’s urging. He made his way to the kitchen to set the food down. “Go to bed and sleep, kid. You look like you need the rest.”
Kim Dokja blinked. “Sorry I didn’t come to work today.”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” the old man said, and Kim Dokja opened his mouth to protest. He added, “I won’t be paying you for this missed shift though.” Only then did Kim Dokja look satisfied enough to make his way back to the bedroom. Yoo Jonghyuk glanced at Uriel, who quickly followed him.
The old man turned his sharp eyes back to Yoo Jonghyuk. “So which side of the family are you friends with?”
“His mother’s side.”
The old man let out a slow breath, the tense line in his shoulders finally relaxing a little. Rummaging through the cabinets and pulling out plates he said, “So I’m guessing you know what happened then.”
Yoo Jonghyuk nodded. There was just one thing. “Why did you hire him? He must have been even younger than he is now when he first started, and I doubt that people want middle schoolers to work for them.”
The old man looked at him weirdly. “...He’s in high school”
The entire group just looked at him blankly.
“Okay, fine, I can see why you think that. And look,” the old man turned to face them, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m honestly glad that there’s someone here to be with him after his sorry excuse for relatives abandoning him to start their ‘business’ abroad, but he’s had a rough life. He’s probably not the same person you remember, so take it easy on him. Lord knows how long it took for him to even be able to look me in the eye.”
Yoo Jonghyuk stood still as the old man looked at him, not even blinking as their eyes met. After a few seconds, the old man seemed to be satisfied with what he saw because he turned his attention back to the styrofoam container of food again. “As for your question earlier...Well, I’ve seen kids like him before. I knew that if he didn’t get the job at my business then he would have looked somewhere else, and I am willing to bet money that the next place wouldn’t have been as kind to him.”
The old man finished pouring the soup into the bowl and said, “He likes murim dumplings in chicken broth.” His gaze softened for a split second. “Take care of him, will you? He needs more people who care about him.”
Yoo Jonghyuk watched as the old man went to check on Kim Dokja before turning to leave. “Thank you,” he said, as the old man pulled the door open.
“Don’t mention it,” the old man said, the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes deepening as he smiled. “Seriously, don’t. The kid might actually have an aneurysm if he finds out I told you this.”
And Yoo Jonghyuk couldn’t argue with that at all. He may have only spent a few hours with Kim Dokja, but he’s known the Most Ancient Dream for centuries. Yoo Jonghyuk huffed out a small laugh, and they both shared a look of understanding.
The door slipped shut, and Yoo Jonghyuk made his way to the bedroom. It was time to take care of his star.
---
“You—you're actually real,” Kim Dokja said, looking a bit like he was about to throw up.
“Yes,” Yoo Jonghyuk said. After a few heart stopping moments where Dokja’s fever rose to dangerously high levels and a few days later, he was finally well enough to have a coherent conversation.
“And, um, okay, let me get this straight. You...completed the scenarios and met a mysterious person and crossed the Final Wall and then woke up here?”
Yoo Jonghyuk chose to omit the fact that the ‘mysterious person’ was actually Kim Dokja’s mother, deciding that they had enough on their plates as it is. Kim Dokja buried his head in his hands with a groan. “This feels like a dream,” he mumbled.
“It’s not.” Yoo Jonghyuk said. “Dokja, we’re real and we’ll spend as much time as we need to make sure you understand. You’ll never be alone again.”
“Alright, uh—sorry, I just can’t believe that you would even want to—” Kim Dokja stopped himself, before clumsily saying, “Um, anyways, what’s something that only each of you will know?”
Yoo Jonghyuk went first, easily listing every single one of the gifts Kim Dokja had given him on his birthdays. They each contributed their little stories and listening to his companions talk about their own private moments, Yoo Jonghyuk felt an odd sort of pride bubbling in his chest. The Most Ancient Dream—no, Kim Dokja—was so kind , and it just warmed his heart to see that he was so well loved, and judging by the astonished look on Kim Dokja’s face, he hadn’t expected any of this.
Well, to be fair, having apparently fictional characters suddenly come to life and appear in your apartment was pretty shocking, but Yoo Jonghyuk wanted to break a few bones at the thought of how, despite everything he’s done, Kim Dokja still didn’t think himself to be deserving of even a fraction of the care he’s shown for them.
“Right,” Kim Dokja said, looking even more horrified after hearing their answers. “So this is actually real.”
Yoo Jonghyuk sighed. They would need to work on quite a bit.
---
Through their efforts, Kim Dokja slowly began to open up. It had taken months of gentleness, of some steps forwards and even more steps back, but they had finally gotten to the point where Kim Dokja no longer flinched at their touches. Yoo Jonghyuk had never known he was capable of such patience, but nothing regarding his little reader felt like a chore.
The first time he gave each of them a hug— a short, fleeting thing, but a hug nonetheless— on his way out to school, Kim Namwoon almost cried, and Uriel definitely did. Even Yoo Jonghyuk couldn’t deny the stinging in his nose.
Kim Dokja came home a few hours later, unlocking the door to reveal the group waiting in the living room. His hands clenched tightly around the straps of his backpack and he looked at them with uncertainty before quietly saying, “I—I’m home?”
Yoo Jonghyuk smiled, and opened his arms wide in invitation. Kim Dokja quickly stepped forward to accept it, and Yoo Jonghyuk wrapped his arms around his warm body. “Welcome home, Dokja-yah.”
After a few minutes of bliss, Kim Dokja shifted restlessly in his arms and Yoo Jonghyuk hesitantly loosened his grip. He turned to see his companions waiting patiently behind him, their expectations written on their faces.
“Go on, Dokja-yah,” Yoo Jonghyuk said, nudging him along. “Don’t leave them hanging.”
The tension in Kim Dokja’s shoulders finally melted off when he realized that it was okay for him to do this too, and he stepped forward without any hesitation, his family surrounding him.
“I’m home,” Kim Dokja said again, as if he were tasting unfamiliar words on his tongue.
“Yes, you are,” Yoo Jonghyuk said. “Welcome back.”
---
They still had bad days, of course.
There were times when Yoo Jonghyuk felt like this was a trap, an illusion created by the scenarios. During those times, he glued himself to Kim Dokja, arms wrapped protectively around him, and just tried to breathe through the memories assaulting his head, the scent of blood and carnage filling his nose even when he knew he wasn’t in that hell anymore. On those days, he didn’t sleep, too terrified of the thought that he would close his eyes only to open them again to that goddamned train cart. On those days, nothing could pry him away, and Kim Dokja just sat still with him, quietly narrating some of the stories he'd read before.
Sometimes Lee Jihye stood in front of the mirror wearing her school uniform, face carefully blank, her eyes looking at something very far away. On those days, she looked at her hands and moved her fingers back and forth, as if she were testing to see if they still worked.
Sometimes it was Kim Namwoon, who disappeared for a few days, only to come back smelling like blood, his knuckles bruised and swollen, something wild flickering in his eyes. On those days, he shut himself in his room, and only Kim Dokja could get him to come out with the promise of video games and junk food.
Sometimes it was Uriel, who sat a little too close to the fireplace, the fire burning bright and strong even in the middle of summer. On those days, the flames licked at her fingertips, but she didn’t move away, staying until her face flushed red with the heat.
Sometimes it was Lee Hyunsung, who made his bed a little too primly, whose clothes were a little too neat, whose posture was a little too stiff. On those days, he snapped to attention a little too quickly, a “yes, sir” falling readily off his lips even when there was no command given.
And sometimes, it was Kim Dokja. Sometimes he curled up in his bed, staring blankly at his reflection on the closed phone screen, flinching away from anything and everything that came near him. On the better days, he didn’t look at them and just sat quietly for a few hours, staring at nothing. On the bad days, he looked out the windows with something almost like longing. Those days were the worst, and they had to be especially careful to remind him that this was real, that they really were here, that they were going to stay.
They all had bad days, but they were learning how to deal with them, and with every bad day that passed, there were more good ones in between. Maybe one day, these storms would be nothing more than memories, outshined by their happiness, but for now, they all bled from old wounds that never seemed to heal quite right.
---
Uriel and Lee Hyunsung faced each other, sparks flying between them.
“I want to bring him to and from school on Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays,” Uriel gritted out.
“Now, now, let’s not be greedy,” Lee Hyunsung said, his smile turning dangerous.
Uriel scoffed. “Like you’re the one to talk. Just yesterday you took him out for ice cream when you knew I asked him about it first.”
“It’s not my fault he likes me better.”
“You—”
Uriel lunged forward, her hands aimed at Lee Hyunsung’s throat. Lee Hyunsung dodged and tried to kick her stomach. Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyebrow twitched as they fought in the small apartment, their movements too fast for a normal person to track. Uriel ducked away from Hyunsung’s attack, and her elbow knocked over the pitcher on the table. She hurriedly grabbed it before it fell, but she stumbled as she did so and the momentum of her movement caused the lid to fall off and the water to spill out.
At this moment, it was like time had stopped, and Uriel watched with horror as Kim Dokja chose this exact second to walk into the room...and was met with a face full of water.
“Um,” Kim Dokja said, blinking the moisture out of his lashes. “I—”
“Dokja-yah!” Uriel wailed, falling to her knees in front of him and clutching his hands. “I’m so sorry!”
Yoo Jonghyuk pushed her away, and Uriel didn’t even protest as he swooped in and scooped Kim Dokja into his arms, immediately heading to the bathroom.
“Now he really isn’t going to go out with you for ice cream anymore,” Kim Namwoon snickered.
Uriel wailed.
---
“We need to move,” Yoo Jonghyuk announced, untying his apron. Dokja had just left for school with Kim Namwoon accompanying him, as per their schedule.
“Captain,” Uriel said, already looking at house listings on her phone. “What about this one?”
Lee Jihye leaned over to look at the image on her phone. “Unnie, the school near that neighbourhood isn’t very good. It’s a mid-tier public school that’s known for being more concerned about its reputation than it’s students.”
Yoo Jonghyuk nodded approvingly at Jihye, and she preened. "So the house needs to be big for all of us and it also needs to be close to a good school so the commute isn’t too long.” He frowned thoughtfully and said, “But being in the city centre might be too busy.”
Would Kim Dokja even like that? Yoo Jonghyuk wanted to ask him for his input, but he already knew if he did he would be met with a wide eyed stare and a stuttered ‘Anything is fine, Hyung.’ Yoo Jonghyuk sighed.
“Why don’t we do both?” Lee Hyunsung said, chewing on some toast. “We can get an apartment in the city for convenience’s sake, and also a house further away for more space and privacy.”
They all nodded at the suggestion.
“We should also get a car,” Uriel said. “I don’t like the thought of Dokja having to ride the train with all those strangers all the time and it would be easier to get to places that way, especially if we’re living further away.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Yoo Jonghyuk said, and started delegating. Uriel and Jihye would look for an apartment that was close to good high schools and universities, so that Dokja would have options. Hyunsung would look for cars. He would look for a house that would fit their needs. Money was of no concern.
(If Kim Dokja were here, he probably would have started choking at how nonchalantly this group was talking about building a house and buying an apartment in the middle of Seoul, not to mention the car!
And if he wasn’t spitting blood by then, then he would have definitely started at Yoo Jonghyuk’s last sentence.)
---
“This is too much.”
“Nonsense,” Uriel said, holding a large box. “Dokja-yah, this place is barely big enough for all of us.”
“Barely big enough!?” Kim Dokja said, gesturing wildly to their new house, a large, hulking thing standing stark amongst acres of greenery. “This is a mansion!”
Yoo Jonghyuk walked over, pulling some luggage along and looked at the newly built house. Lee Hyunsung was able to find a few houses that fit most of their criteria, but none of them were what they were looking for. So naturally, they just bought a large plot of land and hired some contractors to build one for them. Their arguments about the floor plans and who would be in the rooms closest to Dokja were...intense, to say the least.
Yoo Jonghyuk would never admit how pleased he was when he realized immediately that there was a unanimous consensus that he would get the largest room right beside Dokja’s.
“Hyung,” Kim Dokja said, turning to look at him with wide eyes. “You agree with me, right? There was nothing wrong with the old apartment.”
“No,” Yoo Jonghyuk said, and at Kim Dokja’s pout he added, “Dokja, didn’t you say that it would be nice for all of us to live in a house with a big yard?”
“I—I didn’t mean it like that! I was just saying, hypothetically, it would be nice! Besides, this is so much larger than what I was expecting then,” he said. Then he paled. “Hyung, please don’t tell me you bought this house just because of a comment I made!”
Yoo Jonghyuk sighed. “Dokja, stop overthinking it,” he said, watching as Kim Dokja’s displeasure was written plainly on his face. “That old apartment just wasn’t very well suited for all of us—and don’t even argue, you know very well that it wasn’t meant to hold six people. It was also too small and it’s too far away from any other schools.”
Yoo Jonghyuk thought of dark hallways that hid more than just physical shadows, and of how Dokja never seemed to relax in that place, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Kim Dokja only deserved the best, and the life he lived before they met wasn’t it. The comment finally had Kim Dokja closing his mouth; they all knew that his school transfer had been something that he was quietly very grateful for.
“But,” he argued weakly, just unable to stop himself. “You really didn’t have to buy a house this big.”
Yoo Jonghyuk raised an eyebrow. “Well, if the house were any smaller, we wouldn’t have any room for your library.”
Kim Dokja’s jaw dropped.
“That’s right, Dokja. You have a reading room all to yourself,” Yoo Jonghyuk said. Then he frowned exaggeratedly. “But it doesn’t seem you like the idea very much, so I guess we’ll just get rid of—”
“No!” Kim Dokja blurted out, flushing at his outburst. He mumbled something under his breath.
“Hm? What was that last part? I couldn’t quite hear you.”
“I said,” Kim Dokja muttered, flushing an even prettier shade of red. “I—I don’t want you to get rid of it.”
“So you see why we need a house this big?”
“Yes, hyung.”
“Good,” Yoo Jonghyuk laughed at Kim Dokja’s obedient appearance. He scooped Kim Dokja in his arms, warmth filling his chest at how Kim Dokja barely tensed. He distantly heard Kim Namwoon loudly complaining about how he was just making them do all the hard work while he went off to have fun. Yoo Jonghyuk ignored him. They could figure that out themselves.
“Come on, my little star,” he said, tightening his grip around his precious cargo. “Let me give you the grand tour.”
---
The weeks that followed was a flurry of movement. They had mapped the floor plan together and finally figured out who was going in which room, but furniture placement and decoration was another matter.
The months of planning had been worth it, to see Kim Dokja’s slack jawed expression as he toured the house, the way his eyes glittered when he realized that he would get his own space. Kim Dokja would never need to mold himself to fit the cracks in someone else's life again, Yoo Jonghyuk would make sure of it.
“There’s a lot of shelves here,” Dokja said, looking at the still empty library, gorgeous with its dark wood flooring and high ceilings. He walked over to the floor to ceiling windows to stare at their large property, dying sunlight illuminating the room a warm gold. He was silent for a few moments.
“Hyung, I—I really hated reading for a long time," Kim Dokja murmured, his expression carefully blank even as his eyes dimmed at the words spilling from his mouth. "I just couldn’t stand the thought of opening another book but... somehow, I was okay with reading the text boxes in ‘Ways of Survival’ and ‘The 0th Life.’" He laughed humourlessly. "Isn’t that just funny?”
Yoo Jonghyuk stared at that skinny back, feeling the weight of that hushed admission. “And now?”
“And now,” Kim Dokja said, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “I think I can learn, again. Hyung, if you're here...then it suddenly doesn’t seem that bad anymore.”
Yoo Jonghyuk's chest filled with warmth and he moved to stand beside Kim Dokja, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I’m sure this room will be filled in no time.”
Filled with books, he thought silently to himself. Filled with happiness, with laughter, with love.
They stood there, staying long after their shadows had lengthened and the sun had disappeared, the pale moon taking its place. The night air was cold, but their hearts weren’t.
The stars twinkled above them, and for once, Yoo Jonghyuk didn't long for something he couldn't reach. The only constellation that ever mattered to him was right by side, and he was never letting go.
---
“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Jonghyuk said. Kim Dokja turned, and Yoo Jonghyuk’s breath was stolen from his throat. Kim Dokja was standing with his back to the large, open windows in the attic; a figure illuminated by the sunshine streaming through clear glass. Strands of his dark hair flashed gold, fluttering slightly in the wind. Even in the shadows, Yoo Jonghyuk could see the way his eyes glittered with happiness.
“Yes, hyung?”
Yoo Jonghyuk swallowed the lump in his throat. He moved forward, each footstep echoing crisply in his ears. He gently cupped Kim Dokja’s cheeks, tilting his head down to meet that wide eyed gaze. “Dokja-yah, my wonderful star.” Yoo Jonghyuk said, greedily absorbing the faint flush on his constellation’s cheeks. “Is this the epilogue you wanted to see?”
A quiet laugh bubbled up from Kim Dokja’s throat, “Yes,” he said, “It is.” Kim Dokja’s breath hitched slightly. “It’s more than I could have ever asked for. It’s more than I thought I would ever get.”
Scarred fingers brushed away the drops of liquid that fell from trembling lashes, and Yoo Jonghyuk gently pressed his lips against Kim Dokja’s forehead. “No,” he murmured, mouth grazing against warm skin. “You’re wrong. This is exactly what you deserve.”
He smiled at the way Kim Dokja leaned into his calloused palms. “Do you remember what I said before?”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, hyung,” Kim Dokja teased. “You’ve said a lot of things in the past.”
“You’re right. I guess I’ll just have to remind you,” Yoo Jonghyuk said, stepping back. He slowly sank to his knees and grasped both of Kim Dokja’s hands, intertwining their fingers together. “It was after my birthday, and I knelt just like this. You weren’t in front of me, but I was looking at the stars you lay in...is it ringing any bells now?”
Kim Dokja didn’t seem to be breathing, just staring at him, the flush on his cheeks spreading to his ears, down his neck, into his clothes. Yoo Jonghyuk wondered how far down it went.
“No?” Yoo Jonghyuk smiled fondly. “Then I’ll continue. I said, ‘Most Ancient Dream, you have done more for me than you will ever realize. You appeared just as this worn body was about to give up, and brought salvation to my old bones. You showed me that there are still things in this world worth living for.’” Yoo Jonghyuk paused for a moment, taking a deep breath.
He meant the words then. He means them even more now.
“Then I said,” he continued, voice hoarse. “‘I don’t know how I could even begin to repay this kindness, but I will spend the rest of my life trying.”
“Careful, hyung,” Kim Dokja said, voice shaking. “That… that almost sounds like a wedding vow.”
Yoo Jonghyuk just smiled, and Kim Dokja flushed even more at his soft gaze. “I would do anything for you, Dokja,” Yoo Jonghyuk reminded him. “All you need to do is ask.”
Kim Dokja’s bottom lip trembled. “What if—What if I don’t know how to ask?”
“Then I’ll stay with you until you can find the words,” Yoo Jonghyuk said simply. “And if you can’t, then I’ll help you find them.”
Kim Dokja launched himself at Yoo Jonghyuk, who caught him without hesitation. They both fell to the ground, with Yoo Jonghyuk adjusting his body to make sure that no harm came to the precious cargo in his arms. He pressed his cheek to Kim Dokja’s hair, breathing in the slight floral scent of the shampoo Uriel bought.
“Hyung,” Kim Dokja said, voice muffled into his neck. Yoo Jonghyuk shivered at the warm breath that grazed his skin. “I-I’m very happy right now.” Kim Dokja raised himself a little, and Yoo Jonghyuk’s breath stuttered at the sight of him. His cheeks were still flushed, a beautiful pastel pink compared to the burning crimson that it was earlier, and his grin was bright enough to light up the entire room. Kim Dokja radiated happiness. Yoo Jonghyuk’s heart felt like it would burst.
“Good,” Yoo Jonghyuk said, his chest feeling so, so light. “You should always be happy. This is what you deserve.”
The grin Kim Dokja gave him was blinding.
---
Later, when the skies had darkened and the air cooled, they made a pile of blankets and pillows in the middle of the attic. Yoo Jonghyuk watched Kim Dokja read, pressed tightly against his side, his eyes bright and focused on the story unfolding before him. The rest of his companions were talking quietly amongst themselves, trading insults and quickly soothing any hurts with gentle smiles and laughter. Here, surrounded by the people he loved, the family he fought the fates to have, he was relaxed in all the ways he was never allowed to be during the scenarios.
He had forgotten how easily happiness could come, how freely his smiles could be given, how full his heart could be. How fortunate he was to have gotten the chance to remember.
“Hyung,” Kim Dokja said, his thumbs rubbing against the pages of his book. “I remembered what you said about different world lines and parallel universes.” His voice was quiet, contemplating. Every person in that room was hanging onto every word. “I think...In another world, things might have turned out very differently. I may not have found you until much later in life, and we might not have even gotten along.”
The pages rustled as Kim Dokja resumed his reading, shifting until he found a comfortable position, content with simply sharing his thoughts with them. What Kim Dokja was saying wasn’t impossible. Yoo Jonghyuk himself knew how close the thread of his sanity was to snapping. If they hadn’t met then….Yoo Jonghyuk let his mind wander.
Maybe in one world, Kim Dokja listened to his mother’s words and read the story again, repeating the words until they were burned into his retinas, until the stories made permanent home in his brain. Maybe he devoured words like they were his lifeline.
Maybe in one world, Kim Dokja brandished books like weapons, the words a sharpened blade he used to cut his enemies down and protect the small family he found. Maybe in that world, Kim Dokja was, first and foremost, a reader.
But this is not that world.
Yoo Jonghyuk knew that in this world, Kim Dokja listened to his mother’s words and read the story again, repeating the words until agony coursed through his veins, until he learned to loathe the very characters that made his name. He saw black ink printed on pages and saw nothing but pain and suffering written in the letters.
Yoo Jonghyuk knew that in this world, Kim Dokja couldn’t bring himself to read books, but he still managed to digest the short sentences in bright blue text boxes. Slowly, and painstakingly, he devoured stories with a fervor that not even his tragic family life could suppress. His story saved Yoo Jonghyuk and Yoo Jonghyuk’s story saved him.
“Dokja,” Yoo Jonghyuk said, the words suddenly building up in his throat, rushing up with no other way to go. “You may be right. Maybe in another world things turned out differently—maybe I never trusted you or maybe you never trusted me, at least not in the ways that mattered—I don’t know.” He paused to take a breath, watching the light glow warmly on Dokja’s cheeks. He continued, “But I do know one thing, and that’s the fact that the bond between the reader and his protagonist is not something that’s easily broken.”
Kim Dokja blinked a few times, a wet sheen over his eyes, before burying his face into Yoo Jonghyuk’s shoulder. “Yeah?” He said, his voice muffled. “Hyung, is that what you really think?”
“ I know it.” He pulled Dokja closer, until he was practically sitting in his lap. “You’re here now, aren’t you? It doesn’t matter what world it is, I will always find you.” The words rang like a bell of truth inside Yoo Jonghyuk’s bones.
There was a sniffle. When Yoo Jonghyuk finally tore his attention away from his constellation, he saw the red noses of his companions.
“Captain,” someone cried. Kim Dokja giggled, the sound thick with emotion, and pulled back just far enough to open his arms. Barely a second passed before Yoo Jonghyuk found himself buried under the weight of five people. He couldn’t find it within himself to mind, not when he was surrounded with people he loved, and people who loved him back.
Kim Dokja thought their story ended at the completion of Ways of Survival, but he was wrong. That was simply the end of one chapter, and this was simply the start of a new one.
Yoo Jonghyuk could hardly wait to see where their story led them.
---