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Han Sooyoung used to be able to handle her liquor. She could knock back three bottles of soju in under an hour and still write half of a best-selling novel in the same night. The long nights and even longer days during the years of the scenarios offered no time for such leisure.
Now Han Sooyoung was polishing off her second bottle in around three hours, and she’s messed up enough that the taste of Kim Dokja’s name on her lips doesn’t burn like an iron. She didn’t know exactly why those two words won’t stop forcing their way out of her mouth.
Maybe it was because she was such a mess. He was always a mess, too.
“Kim Dokja. Dokja. Kim Dokja.”
“What are you doing?” is the first thing that Yoo Joonghyuk says when he walks past the living room.
He was the only other person who hung around their old space in the Industrial Complex as frequently as Han Sooyoung did. He was the only one who was struggling more than Han Sooyoung to move on.
“Drinking.”
Yoo Joonghyuk glanced between the one empty bottle, the two full ones, the shards of green glass splayed across the ground, and the mascara running down Han Sooyoung’s face.
“Pathetic,” he said, then continued walking through the empty halls.
He returned two minutes later, from the direction of the kitchen, and slammed a shot glass next to Han Sooyoung’s.
“Pour me just one.”
Demanding bastard.
Han Sooyoung has watched the world fall to pieces, and she was sure that Yoo Joonghyuk could give less of a fuck about his superior age and rank, so she grabbed the bottle with one hand and poured the soju until it overflowed from the shot glass and poured onto the table.
In return, Yoo Joonghyuk poured her a much neater shot, which she downs only after they locked eyes.
They didn’t exchange any more words, and Han Sooyoung thought that she passed out somewhere after they shared one bottle, but by the time Yoo Joonghyuk shook her awake, both were empty.
“Go to bed,” Yoo Joonghyuk commanded.
If this were a life and death scenario, which is usually was when Yoo Joonghyuk gave orders, Han Sooyoung would listen immediately. But, she was drunk, and Yoo Joonghyuk was slurring horribly and flushed from his high cheekbones all the way up to his ears. He had no authority at the moment.
So, she doesn’t listen. She tried to tease him a bit, instead.
“Carry me,” Han Sooyoung sighed, and draped herself across his lap.
If he were Kim Dokja, which he isn’t, she would have been shoved to the floor, and received some comment about how she would be too heavy, or too ugly to look at. Han Sooyoung would have pretended to be offended but secretly loved it, and fired back something about how Kim Dokja was ugly, and pathetic, and how he was probably worse at handing his booze than she is.
But Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t him, so instead, he placed his hands firmly on Han Sooyoung's waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips. His plethora of unnecessary belts and buttons dug into her calves as he took long, heavy steps towards her bedroom. His breath was labored, and when Han Sooyoung pressed her face deep into his collar and inhaled, she found that it smelled faintly of Kim Dokja. He placed her carefully on the bed, then collapsed to his knees on the floor beside the frame.
“Kim Dokja.”
Yoo Joonghyuk had his back to her as he spoke. The name did nothing to fill out the emptiness of her dark bedroom.
“What?”
“You were saying his name earlier. When I first walked by.”
Han Sooyoung reached out, and tangled her fingers in the back of his hair. She tugged gently, listened to the way his breath hitches, then began to run her fingers up and down his nape instead. His hair was a little bit darker than Kim Dokja’s, but it almost felt the same if she closed her eyes.
“I just miss him, obviously.”
Yoo Joonghyuk was quiet for a moment, but ended up speaking anyway.
“It should have been me.”
Han Sooyoung didn’t hesitate to reply.
“You’re right. It should have been.“
Yoo Joonghyuk turned around, and Han Sooyoung allowed her arm to fall limp.
“I can’t move on so easily. There has to be a way to save him.”
“There isn’t,” Han Sooyoung replied, and her heart skipped a beat at the way his expression fell. Then, “I don’t know how to move on, either.”
Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t reply, but he still had that sad look in his eyes, and it bore an uncanny resemblance to the one that Kim Dokja always carried around like a bag of bones.
Han Sooyoung moved her eyes to his lips instead, and brought her hands up to cup his face. She felt scars and sharp edges under her that she would never feel on Kim Dokja’s face, but if she closes her eyes, she might be able to ignore them. Han Sooyoung pulled his face a bit closer, and pressed her lips Yoo Joonghyuk’s. He didn’t hesitate to kiss back.
They never really talked about that night, or about him, not anymore. Han Sooyoung moved out of the Industrial Complex. She throws herself into her writing. It felt more than pointless.
She spent a lot of time in that hospital room, watching over Kim Dokja’s frail body. Yoo Joonghyuk never comes into the room, but she caught him lingering outside the door once. Maybe it was too much for Yoo Joonghyuk to see him. Maybe it was enough for him just to be close.
They didn’t speak when Han Sooyoung saw him out in the hallway. Yoo Joonghyuk only kissed her, once, deeply. Han Sooyoung kissed him back like it was her last lifeline left on earth. This time, there wasn’t a bite of liquor on his breath. It wasn’t as sloppy as that night, less tongue and general grief in the exchange. Still, it filled the empty hole in Han Sooyoung’s chest, just a bit. He eventually pulled away, breathless, then left her alone in the hallway. Han Sooyoung returned to the hospital room and spent the next hour dry heaving into the toilet of the attached bathroom.
They didn’t meet for a long time after that. Han Sooyoung got dinner with Yoo Sangah once, and learned that he was trying to reprise his gaming career. Han Sooyoung laughed at him a bit cruelly. She knew that he was never going to succeed in having a normal life again. Not after he’s lived through thousands of the apocalypse. Han Sooyoung knew, because she was trying, and she was failing.
She drank a lot with Yoo Sangah that night. Han Sooyoung has been drinking a lot recently, chasing the exact moment when she finally reaches the threshold where her brain shuts off.
It worked, at first, but she realized quickly that no matter how drunk she was, it wouldn’t incite the same kind of bitter satisfaction in her chest that the feeling of Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips against hers did.
One night, instead of picking up the bottle, Han Sooyoung catches a cab to the apartment that Yoo Joonghyuk shared with his sister. He answered the door after she knocked twice.
“What do you want?”
“Is your sister home?”
“No. She’s off somewhere with Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung.”
“Okay. Invite me in, then.”
Yoo Joonghyuk grunted indignantly, but stepped aside to let Han Sooyoung inside anyway.
That night, they didn’t kiss once. Not properly, at least.
Han Sooyoung let her mouth move from Yoo Joonghyuk’s neck, past the happy trail that runs down his stomach then down onto the golden skin of his waist. Likewise, Yoo Joonghyuk pressed his lips to the lobe of her ear and dragged his teeth across her collarbone. They never allow their mouths to wander too close together.
It wouldn’t be right to call what happened love making, or fucking, or even something in between. It was an act of desperation. A trembling plea to feel something besides crushing grief. They weren’t in love, though it would be easier if they were.
Yoo Joonghyuk was all too gentle, and Han Sooyoung was much too impatient for either of them to really feel anything besides heartache. A single tear slid down Yoo Joonghyuk’s face when he came, and he exhaled a pathetic whimper that wouldn’t even qualify as a moan.
Han Sooyoung wanted to tease him relentlessly. She wanted to ask Yoo Joonghyuk if he cried because she was just that good, or if he made a habit of sobbing into the shoulder of every woman he took to bed.
Instead, what came out was, “Did you cry the first time you slept with him, too?”
Han Sooyoung half expected Yoo Joonghyuk to clock her in the head, or simply throw her out of the apartment entirely. For some reason, he answered the question honestly.
“I didn’t. But he did.”
Han Sooyoung would never have wanted to hear such a disgustingly personal fact while Kim Dokja was still around. It was uncomfortable to hear about, and a private part of his life that Han Sooyoung was never the least bit interested in.
Now Kim Dokja was gone, and there was no way to bring him back. Han Sooyoung was grasping at straws just to keep herself together another day, and she’ll take anything Yoo Joonghyuk had to offer.
“Why?” she asked.
“I never had the chance to ask.”
The sound of a front door slamming shook the apartment.
“Sounds like Mia is home. I’ll shower first, so get some sleep if you want it.”
Han Sooyoung almost felt guilty about the whole thing, about taking advantage of the only man on earth drowning in more pain than she was. But because Yoo Joonghyuk was that person, Han Sooyoung also knew that he needed it just as much as she did. They were using each other. There was a strange sense of solace in that.
Han Sooyoung woke up a few hours later, found her jeans in a crumpled pile on the floor, then pulled on one of Yoo Joonghyuk’s t-shirts and began her walk of shame home. It was interrupted, of course, by Lee Gilyoung sporting a rather judgemental look when they locked eyes in the hallway outside of Yoo Joonghyuk’s bedroom.
“Not staying for dinner?” he leaned on the wall beside her, and to Han Sooyoung’s mortification, he stood a good few inches taller than her now.
Han Sooyoung shrugged, “I’m not hungry.”
“Sure,” Lee Gilyoung said, and then his eyes fell to the shirt hanging from Han Sooyoung’s shoulders. “That’s not very fair.”
“What isn’t fair?”
“It’s not fair to hyung. You know it, too.”
Han Sooyoung crossed her arms and sighed, “Sometimes, life isn’t fair.”
Obviously, Lee Gilyoung was acutely aware of that. He spent the most valuable years of his youth fighting against the end of the world. It was hard for Han Sooyoung to wrap her head around the fact that the kids weren’t the snobby little brats that they once were. The entire company has spent more time without Kim Dokja than with him, but they still were never able to repair the immense gap left by his absence.
“So that makes it okay for you to try and steal away hyung’s boyfriend the moment that he’s gone? I bet that you couldn’t wait for him to kick the bucket for good.”
Han Sooyoung didn’t hesitate to grab a handful of Lee Gilyoung’s collar and slam him against the wall. It was no secret that she’s never been above violence. She would cut off this little bastard’s right leg if he needed to be taught a lesson.
“Who taught you how to have such a foul mouth? Kids shouldn’t pretend to understand grown-up issues.”
Lee Gilyoung glared down at her, “Hyung would be disgusted with both of you.”
Han Sooyoung smiled back, “We’ll never know, will we? He’s gone. He left you, Gilyoung-ah. You worship Kim Dokja because he saved you back on that train, but did you ever consider that he did it for selfish reasons?”
“I don’t care if he did. Dokja-hyung loves—“
“He loves you? Then why did he leave you here, all alone? If he really loved you, then wouldn’t he have stayed?”
Lee Gilyoung swallowed the rest of his words. Han Sooyoung released her grip from his shirt and turned to the door.
“Kim Dokja’s soul is destroyed. He’s not in heaven, or hell, or reigning as prince in the Underworld. He’s not watching over us, and he’ll never hear when you spend hours talking to him in that hospital room. It’s time to move on. He’s nothing more than a forgotten story now.”
Her every word was hypocritical, and stung to speak, because she hasn’t been able to accept that reality yet. She doesn’t admit this. Instead, Han Sooyoung stormed out of the apartment without another word.
Han Sooyoung woke up to the feeling of a weak shaking of her shoulders. She lifted her head, and tried to remember when exactly she fell asleep. Her mind was still a bit foggy from the sleep, but with once glance at her surroundings it was obvious that she was in Kim Dokja’s hospital room. Long golden rays of sun flooded in through the gaps in the blinds, and Han Sooyoung found herself soaking them up like a plant emerging after a long winter. She took a moment to rub the sleep from her eyes, and stand up to stretch her back. Han Sooyoung should really speak with Lee Seolhwa about getting a more comfortable chair here.
“You’re finally awake.”
Han Sooyoung’s eyes snapped to the man sitting in the bed, grinning obnoxiously.
“Kim Dokja,” Han Sooyoung reached out a shaking hand, scared to touch. Scared that the second she got too close, he might disappear into a pile of ashes in the wind. Kim Dokja took one look at her trembling hand and grabbed it with his own spindly fingers. He felt warmer than usual.
“Han Sooyoung, did you know that you snore? It’s quite unattractive to look at.”
“Fuck off,” she bit out, and her voice shook more with every word. “I’ve been waiting a really long time for you to wake up.”
Kim Dokja’s tone was much more gentle than usual. He squeezed her hand before he spoke, “I know. You don’t need to worry anymore. I’m home.”
Han Sooyoung knew that she should go and get the others. However, she was a selfish person. She wanted to keep this moment to herself for a little bit longer.
“This reminds me of that time during my birthday. It’s similar, right?”
“You’re right,” Han Sooyoung agreed. “But wait.”
She glanced at his face and body, as mature as she remembered during the scenarios. It wasn’t the same kid-ified Kim Dokja who had been asleep in this same bed for so long.
“How did you return to your original body?”
“I regained my stories, of course,” Kim Dokja smiled.
“Why?” Han Sooyoung asked.
Kim Dokja only shrugged his narrow shoulders, and turned towards the sunlight streaming through the window.
Han Sooyoung’s eyes snapped open, and she gasped for breath as she resurfaced from her dream. At first, Han Sooyoung had assumed that she would have nightmares about Kim Dokja every night. Now, she’s realized that sweet dreams are much worse.
This wasn’t the first time she’s been greeted by the false sense of hope while she slept. It’s almost every night, actually. She would rather have to watch Kim Dokja die then have him ripped from her grasp like this so frequently. Han Sooyoung really doesn’t think that she can take much more of this. She spends around an hour, pacing around her apartment while she tries to think of a solution. There’s only one, good, sure fire way to stop her grief from taking over any more, but it’s so horribly ironic that Han Sooyoung can’t bring herself to stomach it.
When Yoo Sangah flung open her apartment door, her eyes just about doubled in size. Han Sooyoung has never seen a woman look more surprised in her life. Han Sooyoung must have really lost it this time.
“Sooyoung-ah, I think you need to put down the dagger.”
“I know I do,” Han Sooyoung said, but tightened her grip on the weapon anyway. “That’s why I called you here.”
Under the shining blade, lies an avatar containing every last one of her memories of Kim Dokja. Spanning back from the first time she saw him in that hospital bed in Seoul, and became tls123, to the dream that she had last night. Han Sooyoung dumped every last thought that could be traced back to him in this avatar, and if she killed it, each memory would disappear without a trace. She could go back to living.
“You don’t want to do this,” Yoo Sangah reminded her. “Dokja-ssi meant too much to you.”
“You’re right,” Han Sooyoung replied, but she still couldn’t bring herself to put down the dagger. “This just feels so much easier.”
“It wouldn’t be. You would only spend nights awake wondering what that missing piece of your heart was. You would feel even more lost than you do now. You wouldn’t get closure, and most of all, you wouldn’t be around to write that story for him.”
Yoo Sangah got close enough to pry the dagger out of Han Sooyoung’s hands herself. She held Han Sooyoung in her arms for a while after that. Eventually, after she calmed down, Han Sooyoung absorbed the avatar. The memories could live on safely inside her for a while longer.
Han Sooyoung considered making a trip to see Yoo Joonghyuk before she started the book, but he actually showed up at her apartment first.
“I don’t love you,” he said. “I can’t. Not like how I love him.”
Han Sooyoung shrugged, “I don’t want you to. I can’t love you either.”
“Okay,” Yoo Joonghyuk furrowed his eyebrows together a bit, then left.
He went a bit off grid after that. Not even Yoo Mia knew how to get in touch with him.
Han Sooyoung thought about looking for him, but she knew that she shouldn’t be the one to find him. She was going to be busy writing a novel, after all.