Chapter Text
Kim Dokja looks up at the ceiling, the skin of his arm sticking uncomfortably to his forehead. Hiccup like breaths are the only thing that his mind can process between the literal stars sparking behind his eyes.
"Kim Dokja."
He doesn't even bother to look down at the source of the languid, smooth voice above him; opting to instead press the heel of his foot into the alphas shoulder.
"You, you absolute bastard-" Dokja doesn't even get a chance to verbally lash out at him, once still fingers going back to abusing his prostate. A low moan escapes between his reddened lips, teeth sinking back into the worn flesh in a futile effort to keep the noises to himself.
"Kim Dokja, focus." The three thick, lubed fingers dig especially hard into the bundle of nerves as if to force the beta into coming down from his high.
Dokja's hard glare finally meets with Joonghyuk's sharp features. Despite his companions hard set jaw and barely kept together composure, Dokja just can't find it in himself to be cooperative.
It's his fault, so why should Dokja give him an easy time?
"You sex-craved maniac, no matter how many fingers you put in it's not going to fit. That-" A wobbly finger is pointed down towards the weeping cock laying on Dokja's flushed stomach, precum collecting on the sweat covered surface. "-is a weapon. I'll seriously die this time."
The deep furrow of Yoo Joonghyuk's eyebrows indicate that he didn't quite appreciate the comment made at the end, but decides to remove his fingers from Dokja's puffy hole rather than comment on it. Dokja's cock twitches at the movement, already stirring back to life despite the two orgasms he's experienced.
Seriously, why was he acting like a hormonal teenager despite being a 28 year-old man fresh out of being hospitalized? It only felt like a short while ago that he was prepared to spend the rest of his days inside of that damn subway cart. He lets out a curt chuckle at the thought.
It had only been a couple weeks since Kim Dokja was released from his hospitalization, his weakened body now able to withstand its own weight. Yoo Joonghyuk had mentioned how skinny he had looked the first day they had went home. Dokja still gets indigestion remembering the look he earned after not eating until dinner, too caught up in a novel to pay attention to the time. Three balanced meals were prepared everyday just for him after that.
Why was someone like Yoo Joonghyuk taking care of him anyhow? Shouldn't the protagonist be at some huge game tournament or practicing with his teammates? Why would he fall from grace and become a housewife for some unemployed middle-aged man, a beta man at that. Maybe if it weren't for Dokja he would be out in the world with some omega girlfriend-
"Kim Dokja." A strong grip pulls the arm covering Dokja's face away, an indecipherable expression clouding the once heated gaze directed his way.
He wishes that he could hide behind the invisible wall that used to protect him in these moments. Ever since awaking up his emotions have slowly started to bubble to the surface once again; the feeling of pain was almost unbearable after forgetting what it really feels like for so long. Dokja shudders to think what the probability storms would have felt like without the fourth wall keeping him company.
The hand on his arm suddenly yanks him to a sitting position, a deep red already settling into a dark purple from the contact. Had his body always been so easy to bruise before? Maybe it's a side effect from having been in a coma for so long-
"Didn't I tell you to focus?" Joonghyuk's free hand cups Dokja's face, shaking him around a bit before finally letting go.
"T-The hell are you-"
"What's wrong?" The two words make Dokja flinch, the reaction large enough to cause the man in front of him to deepen his glare.
What is wrong with him? He's been asked that a dozen times in a variety of different ways. It used to be easy enough to answer, his body aches causing his mind to collapse before it was able to wander too far. These days, however?
He wanted to ask himself that question. What is wrong with you, Kim Dokja? Your companions worked so hard to bring you back and yet you're acting like this?
But why did they go so far for him, enough to regress and seemingly abandon the happy ending he gave them?
⸢ "Who said it was your right to give us a shitty ending like that? We made our choices for our own reasons so stop acting like you're somehow to blame, Kim Dokja." ⸥
The past words from Han Sooyoung act like a dagger to Dokja's line of thought, the reminder of 'why he shouldn't think this way' causing his already cooling mind to turn ice-cold.
He shouldn't think this way, but-
There was always that comma at the end, a continuation to something that should have ended. It should have ended there, so why?
The sound of rustling clothing causes Dokja to refocus on the present, arm suddenly free from Yoo Joonghyuk's grasp. The alpha had gotten up and off the bed, already having put on his sweatpants and halfway through putting on his shirt.
"Ah, w-wait. Where-" The question dies as soon as Dokja had begun to ask. What right did he have to question where he was going? This was already the third time things had gotten awkward in the middle of, well, whatever hormonal alpha thing Joonghyuk was going through. Dokja had just assumed it was his rut period the first time it happened but surely that period was over by now? Not even to mention he was a beta, he didn't produce pheromones.
Yoo Joonghyuk gives a measured look to the still naked man on the bed, eyes giving a dangerous glint as he opens his mouth. "I-"
⸢ "■■■ ■■■■■ , ■ ■■■■ ■■■" ⸥
"Shouldn't you look for an omega instead?" His mouth opens before his mind has time to process anything. "T-That's what I was thinking, uhm, about. I mean, I know our rooms are pretty close to one another and that you have to take care of me everyday since I'm still getting used to things but that doesn't mean you can't go out and meet. . .an-"
The look on Joognhyuk's face was beyond murderous, even his hands were clenched into tight fists while his jaw his firmly locked. Kim Dokja can tell it's taking his all to be patient enough to even speak.
"I don't have to do anything."
"A-Ah, of course! I'm not saying you can't control yourself it's just, I'm a beta so an alpha like you-"
"Not that. But that's also bullshit as well."
"T-Then-?"
Kim Dokja knew Yoo Joonghyuk was never a patient man. The character that he grew up with, watched for the thousands of years he spent as his sponsor, never had the patience to put up with such a pointless conversation.
But the person before him wasn't a character. He wasn't the person he read about, subconsciously thought about or watched over all this time. He didn't know what the person standing before him was thinking, where he gained all this patience from and why he was willing to calmly elaborate himself.
"I don't have to take care of you, Kim Dokja. It would be better if you would take care of yourself a lot more but everything that I'm doing now is my choice. I want to do it, I don't have to."
But why? It's as if the question as written all over his face as Joonghyuk proceeds to answer it.
"Didn't I already tell you? It's b■ca■■■■ I ■■■■ ■o■."
Kim Dokja's hands tremble, a colder more oppressive sweat starts to form on his skin. His mind goes all but blank as he dares to not think. He doesn't know why the alpha goes so far for him, why his companions continue to look at after him after all he's done. He's hurt them, no, he's the source of all their pain and suffering. He doesn't deserve any of it.
A restrained sigh from the other side of the room causes Dokja to finally cover himself, the thick blankets now serving as his makeshift barrier.
"Seriously, you-" Joonghyuk cuts himself off before letting out another sigh, finally moving himself from the spot he had been standing at and towards the door. "I'm sorry, I know you need some time. Make sure to come out for dinner."
With that, he leaves while softly shutting the door behind him.
Dokja can't even bring himself to put clothes on, instead slinking deeper into his bed while cocooning himself with the blanket.
"Jerk, what are you apologizing for?" The edges of his vision start to blur, a familiar burn settling behind his eyes. The cold lube and sticky remains of what had only happened minutes ago only makes Dokja feel more like shit.
Truthfully, he can't be bothered to clean himself up. Once he got started he knew all too well that his mind would linger on the 'why' and 'how' that's been on his mind ever since coming back to the Industrial Complex. He also didn't want to have to think about meeting everyone at the end of the day while they all ate.
They would pick up on his bad mood the moment they laid eyes on him.
He didn't want to be left alone to his own devices, his mind often betraying him in such moments, but he didn't want to be around anyone either.
All he can do is close his eyes like always and dream.
⸢K im Dok ja⸥
A familiar presence greets Kim Dokja, the weight of his name being spoken acting like a heavy blanket on his small and frail body. His phone lays face down on the glossy floor of the subway cart, it's screen still shining brightly after having just read the updating text of the final revision.
He forces his body up, ignoring the questions that relentlessly pound away in his head. It wasn't the first time he'd awakened from dreaming of this worldline and he was sure it wouldn't be the last. It wasn't real, he knew better than to think otherwise.
Kim Dokja slowly walks over to one of the seats, flushed knees sinking into the plush fabric as he settles himself against the chair, arms crossing at the top as he gazes into the endless darkness beyond the window.
It isn't until his unfocused eyes slowly start to stare at the dimming star-like eyes shedding tears does he realize that he's crying.
⸢Ag ai n?⸥
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Perhaps it's due to his child-like voice that his words come across especially immature. Pale cheeks redden under at the thought and small fingers make their way to wipe at the face reflected in the window.
Kim Dokja can't help but feel a familiar pain when gazing at the face in the window. It's that kids fault that he's in this situation in the first place. The kid is the reason why the scenarios exist, the reason why everyone had to continue to suffer and why he was atoning for the story even now.
". . .Why do you get to have a happy ending?"
Why did 'he' get to have Secretive Plotter's misplaced forgiveness? What about Kim Dokja?
⸢K im Dokj a is Ki m D okja⸥
The Fourth Wall seems to move to Dokja's side, gazing over his shivering body.
"Then, Then do I get to-"
No, he doesn't dare entertain the thought. He was meant to be atoning, not having fantastical dreams of being saved and forgiven by his companions while he gets to live a happy life with the alpha who's always been on his mind. Even in his dreams he's reminded that he can never be truly happy.
He will always be weighed down with the knowledge of just 'who' he is. Anyone who knows the truth will remember him for who he really is; they can't just move past it and act as if everything was okay now.
Kim Dokja didn't want to be saved.
Kim Dokja didn't deserve to be happy.
These were facts of his never-ending story, something he would have to live with for the rest of his conscious life. He didn't want to think about a world where he'd been given yet another chance.
He didn't want to dream of a world where those words would be directed towards him.
⸢ "■■■ ■■■■■ , ■ ■■■■ ■■■" ⸥
Those words didn't belong in Kim Dokja's story.
⸢ "■im Do■j■ , I ■■■■ ■o■" ⸥
⸢Ki m D ok ja⸥
Those words weren't meant for a beta like him.
⸢ "Kim Do■j■ , I ■■■e you" ⸥
Yoo Joonghyuk hated him, hated that he had to go through regression after regression because of someone like him.
⸢ "Kim Dokja , I ■o■e you" ⸥
Yoo Joonghyuk would never say that so then why? Why would he say that in his dreams when he never wanted to hear words like that spoken by the man who should hate him the most.
⸢. . .Go b ac k to s le ep.⸥
He didn't want to dream anymore. He didn't want to feel this pain every time he was awake. He wanted to stop thinking, stop feeling, stop wanting.
The window is no longer in view, his eyes closing against his will.
Kim Dokja didn't want to go back.
The world was painted in a pitch black. It isn't until he recognizes the sliver of golden light sneaking its way past the shades covering a familiar window that Kim Dokja realized he's finally awoken.
Or had he just gone back to sleep?
The pounding of an all too familiar migraine stops the torrent of thoughts from sending him into a panic. It wasn't the first time he was left confused, wondering if he was actually just going insane from the countless years he spent in that subway cart.
He could never be too sure ever since waking up; is this his reality? Did it matter even if it was just another dream?
Kim Dokja could easily fool himself into thinking this was his epilogue; his story having ended and this being the life he earned after having served his purpose as a character.
But what exactly did he do to earn something like this?
He deserved to die, that was the truth that stuck with him throughout his period as the Oldest Dream. Everything he did was because he loved this story, he loved his companions and more than anything, he loved the love they offered to him.
So he offered himself up, gave bits and pieces of himself away as his form of loving them back. He gave up his very life for the world and the people that were his everything.
Kim Dokja sits up, body shivering as cold stagnant air collides with his naked body. It's as if it passed through him, as if the sheets that covered his lower half and the mattress that held his weight weren't colliding with his body.
He didn't feel as if it were real, he couldn't process the world around him.
Dokja had nothing more to offer up, he was out of ideas and nothing more than the stories of the past he built to last until the end.
Yet they were still here, continuing their existence. Continuing to tell their story.
Kim Dokja felt as if he no longer had a story to tell. He could no longer understand the words on the pages that denoted who the people around him were. What they were thinking, feeling, striving towards.
He was suppose to be a reader yet he could no longer read the words on the nonexistent pages that he now lived in.
It hadn't really set in until now, the weight of the guilt he held, the anxiety of waking up without having to dream anymore. Of having to face reality without that wall between him and the world.
Yet he still felt out of place, out of touch and lost as the passage of time moved on.
He wanted to keep denying it until the end of time but for some reason, he just couldn't anymore.
Kim Dokja was alive. Kim Dokja no longer had to dream for salvation. Kim Dokja was saved. Kim Dokja was loved.
And-
Kim Dokja was afraid of all these facts.
A dull sense of feeling finally sets back into Dokja's body, the sensation of moisture on his face and teeth digging into his bottom lip grounding him back to the reality he was trying to escape from.
No, he still wanted to escape from it. But for the first time, he thought twice about that decision.
It couldn't even be touted as progress, it was really something that should have happened the moment he saw his companions for the first time in so, so many years.
But it took until he had been beaten down by the sheer will of everyone around him. He was just too tired to fight against it; tired of seeing the same dream every night and tired of the filtering his mind forced upon himself to keep that familiar distance he was so used to.
The words that he denied himself from ever understanding now sat at a precipice, just moments away from being realized or forever becoming a combination of letters that will never become words, a sentence, something that held meaning or significance.
He couldn’t help but wilt under the nonexistent pressure of the decision that lay before him now. Dokja couldn’t help but think that the weight was a lot more suffocating than when he was facing a tough scenario.
With a renewed resolve, Dokja finally crawls out of bed. The sensation of cool air hitting his body still feels dulled; even the long since dried lube caked onto his thighs doesn’t bother him as much as it really should.
“I’ll still feel like shit if I don’t clean it later, though.”
He trudges to the bathroom, shutting his eyes as he turns on the light. Despite the effort, the sudden brightness still causes a dull pang of pain to add onto his already existent migraine.
A couple of blinks and eye rubs relieve his eyes of some of the strain, now unfocused orbs squinting to make sense of the familiar bathroom layout. Dokja makes his way to the shower, trembling hand gripping onto the handle and pulling. He uses his other hand to test the water temperature.
He doesn’t feel a thing. Probably too cold.
He pulls it a higher.
A sharp sting, like pins and needles. Probably too hot.
He pulls it a little lower.
A dull feeling, as if the water were simply poking at his skin.
Clack.
Kim Dokja freezes, pulling his hand from the water and looking back into the pitch darkness of his room. Before he can even allow himself time to process the distinct sound of a door nearby closing, he hurries to close the bathroom door.
He didn’t think about if he was awake.
He also didn’t consider that he could probably hear him turning on the shower since their rooms were right next to eachother.
Dokja stands in front of the newly closed door, unfocused eyes staring at the grains in the painted over wood as his eyes turn sharp. For what feels like forever, he can only hear the sound of the water hitting the shower floor. The comes a-
Knock. Knock.
“Kim Dokja.”
Once dull sensations turn sharp and oversensitive in seconds. Dokja might have been resolved, but he wasn’t the type to get things over and done with as soon as possible. Especially when it comes to matters involving Yoo Joonghyuk.
Dokja doesn’t say a word, opting to let his guilty conscious take on a little more guilt as he turns to enter the shower. Maybe the bastard would leave if he pretended not to hear him.
“Ah, shit.”
Dokja sucks in a breath of air, skin turning red under the heat of the steaming water hitting his skin. It probably hurt more than it normally would due to his hightened senses rather than the water being scorchingly hot.
Clack.
A soft tch escapes Dokja’s lips as he hears his door open and heavy steps approach the bathroom door. He lets his head hang low, water pelting his hair and sliding down his bite mark and hickey marked body.
He does nothing but stand there, waiting for the man behind the door to make the first move.
The time seems to pass like molasses, the water cooling as seconds, then minutes pass. Anxiety shifts to indifference, then impatience. It’s only when the water cools enough to soothe Dokja’s reddened skin that he reluctantly grabs his bottle of shampoo and begins to clean himself proper.
Yoo Joonghyuk finally speaks only when Dokja has finished cleaning the lube and cum caked onto his body; he opts to not clean inside of himself since the feeling of embarassment washed over him everytime he tried.
“You didn’t come out for dinner.”
A simple statement from a far from simple person.
Kim Dokja turns off the water and stumbles out of the shower, quickly drying his body before wrapping his lower half in a soft towel and using another the keep his top half warm. He considers foregoing drying his hair but relents and makes the effort just to give himself another reason not to leave just yet.
“I-” The response dies in Dokja’s throat as the single word comes out raspy. He has to clear his throat and cough a couple times before he’s able to no longer feel raspy and dry and unreliable. “I fell asleep. Sorry.”
Dokja once again finds himself standing in front of the door, staring at nothing as the conversation promptly dies after the two sentence exchange. He finds himself tempted to open the door but everytime the thought crosses his mind he chooses to keep it closed.
He didn’t have the mental fortitude to have the conversation yet. Especially when he was practically naked and it was who knows how late at night.
Red fingertips pull at the fabric of the towel, once perfectly sewn together cotton now slowly coming undone under the constellations attention.
“I’ll warm up the leftovers and leave it out on the table. Make sure to eat it and go back to bed.”
The finality of the statement has Dokja pressing his body against the door, letting out a shaky breath as he fails to think of what to say directly in the moment. A sense of relief washes over him as he doesn’t hear Joonghyuk leave, simply waiting until Dokja can find the words.
“Uhm, Joonghyuk-ah.”
Silence.
What is it that he wanted to say? The words I’ve been ignoring from the start, can you say them again? Will you forgive me for everything I’ve done? Will a beta like me really be enough?
Will you really wait for me until I’m ready? Will I ever be ready in the first place?
What if Kim Dokja ran away again? Would Yoo Joonghyuk finally give up on him? What if this was his last chance?
Towards Kim Dokja, what were Yoo Joonghyuks feelings?
No, what did Kim Dokja feel towards Yoo Joonghyuk? He actually hadn’t thought of that yet.
What if he felt something that couldn’t be reciprocated? Maybe it was actually a mistake, thinking he could handle confronting reality.
“Kim Dokja.”
The low voice shakes Dokja out of his inner spiral, lungs expanding as they force him to take a deep breath.
“I’ve spent hundreds of years on a chance that might not have even worked. Just because you’re here now doesn’t mean I wasn’t prepared to wait for you some more.”
The sound of things opening and closing fill the room as Joonghyuks muffled steps are heard through the door.
“For as long as you don’t give me an answer I plan on doing as I please. Don’t go filling your head with nonsense again.”
Muffled noises of fabric rustling sounds the end of Joonghyuks response. Dokja leans against the wooden door, his heart pounding a mile a minute.
He can’t bring himself to give a response.
There’s a weight pressing back against the door, a soft sound of skin sliding across the wood entering Dokja’s ears.
“The food will be ready in ten minutes.”
Yoo Joonghyuk finally leaves Dokja’s room, closing the door behind him while the sound of him dragging something with him filters and then disappears as he walks away.
It takes Kim Dokja a minute to piece himself back together, tentatively opening the door to a lamp-lit room. He can’t help but stare blankly at his bed, sheets stripped from the matress and blankets nowhere to be seen. The only thing left on the white space were neatly folded pajamas and a fresh hand towel Joonghyuk often used to dry Dokja’s hair.
He stands at the edge of the bed, hands unconsciously making their way to grab the hand towel. He startles slightly when unfocused eyes catch fresh droplets falling from above and staining the white towel with splotches of light grey.
Kim Dokja inwardly thinks to himself that he hadn’t done a good job of drying his hair.