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“Gilyoung-ie…” Kim Dokja makes a valiant attempt of withholding the strain in his voice.
Lee Gilyoung beams up at him, two bright brown eyes peering though an absolute mess of mud that was caked over his face, clothes, and hair.
He exhales, adjusting Gilyoung’s cap so it wasn’t at the risk of sliding off the side of the boy’s head and into the puddle at his feet.
Dokja knows that whichever unfortunate towel he sacrifices to clean up this mess would likely never recover. It was a sacrifice he had to make, unless Kim Dokja suddenly felt at peace with having a rather large piece of dirt as a son. What else could Dokja do other than accept his fate?
He should have known that taking his eyes off of his ward for even a fraction of a second in the public park would seal his fate.
Maybe he should have planned for this beforehand. Kim Dokja was no longer just an average salaryman who could afford the bare minimum upkeep and an unhealthy addiction to webnovels after all. He had responsibilities that, when neglected to take a peek at the lastest update on a story he was keeping tabs on, resulted in catastrophic consequence.
“It looks like you had a…” he winces. Kim Dokja makes a mental note to never leave Lee Gilyoung unattended in a park. “…A really great time.”
As usual, the reminder is hammered into his brain alongside the warnings of never letting the seven year old keep over five grasshoppers at a time and making sure that he doesn’t bite his teachers again even if they deserve it (which was something he had to instruct the boy almost every other week).
“Let’s go home, we should get you washed up.” He ushers Lee Gilyoung off of the grass, using the hem of his shirt to properly wipe off the dirt smudged on his cheek when a simple brush of his hand had minimal effect.
Kim Dokja had never anticipated taking in a kid, as someone who bad never recovered from the impact of childhood trauma himself. The imminent failure he would likely face in an attempt to provide a positive upbringing had been a very strong deterrent up until adulthood.
In fact, months ago, Kim Dokja had thought that he’d never get close to anyone ever again. Not after he finally gained the strength to leave behind those who would be better without him in his life.
But then he had seen a reflection of himself in the mirror of a child’s haunted eyes and hadn’t been able look the other way. The world had turned away from Kim Dokja and averted its eyes from Lee Gilyoung as well.
As morbid as it was, there was a silent realization that there would likely be no other that would see the broken pieces of a difficult child and attempt to understand. Kim Dokja wasn’t perfect, but he was willing to fail as long as he didn’t become another blind eye.
(Maybe he should have. Who was he to play savior when he couldn’t even help himself?)
The first few weeks had been utter disaster, furthering his fear of failure as the mishaps of burnt dinners, miscommunication, and overtime accumulated. Kim Dokja hadn’t even bought a vegetable in the last few months, how could he provide for a kid without messing him up?
Had he really made the right choice, or had Dokja taken a step in the wrong direction and doomed Lee Gilyoung from the start?
Maybe the ugly truth was that Kim Dokja was a failure that Lee Gilyoung should have never met at all.
A mantra of “I’m not good enough” soon became a resident in every waking thought, faced with eyes that had long lost their innocent but not yet their shaken hope.
Dokja still remembered the hopelessness that had plagued him, every time he called up Han Sooyoung late at night for advice so Gilyoung wouldn’t hear him breaking down.
(That had actually been how he had reconnected with one of his oldest friends. Isolating himself had come naturally over the years and it had been quite some time since he had responded to her texts. Kim Dokja wasn’t like the people he grew up with and he certainly hadn’t changed for the better.
Why should he make contact with those who would be better off forgetting all about him?
Kim Dokja was a lonely man, one that had been alone for most of his life. Though he had small moments in the past where he hadn’t been so alone, he had managed to push everyone that had cared for him away by the time he had met Gilyoung.
It had started with excuses, then missing scheduled meet-ups before it had all spiraled into Kim Dokja running away like a couple of them had been suspicious of.
They hadn’t given up their attempts of reaching out even as time had passed, but Dokja had been able to take care of himself.
But now, Kim Dokja was not alone anymore and Lee Gilyoung had been his tipping point towards reaching out again. He had needed help and didn’t have the ability to remain solely self-dependent anymore while responsible for a kid.
He couldn’t make Lee Gilyoung suffer because he couldn’t own up to his own problems. Dokja needed someone who could help him think things through, watch over the kid when he wasn’t able to, and fill the gaps that he couldn’t.
Han Sooyoung had picked up on the first ring on a desperate night, heard him out over the phone, then shown up at his front door less than an hour later.
“I’m so tired, Sooyoung-ah.” He was choking on the stress of failure, helpless to his own shortcomings that were becoming so painfully apparent with every passing day. “This was a mistake, wasn’t it? I shouldn’t have, I—“
Gilyoung hadn’t been able to sleep recently and he had gotten reports of the boy being ostracized at school. Kim Dokja stressed, worked, came back home late with his eyes burning from exhaustion every day. Dokja was too tired to play with Lee Gilyoung or prepare a good dinner when he could barely stay on his feet, then he has to leave the house too early to offer true support.
What am I doing?
Kim Dokja wasn’t fit for parenting, but he couldn’t let Lee Gilyoung go.
What a funny fate he found himself trapped in.
His chest felt like it was being squeezed by a thousand pounds, making it hard to breathe or think straight. “What do I do?”
“Hey.” Han Sooyoung brushed his palm over his face, tilting her head to look straight into his eyes. “Your first mistake was trying to do all of this by yourself, Dokja. Whatever you do now, I’ll be right there with you.”
“You shouldn’t be.” Kim Dokja looks away, dropping his head into his hands.
“But I want to,” Han Sooyoung narrows her eyes at Kim Dokja and wrangles him into a hug that feels more like a chokehold. “Now, are you going to deny me this one ask after the shit that you’ve put us through.”
“…I— well, I suppose not.”
After a considerable amount of time calming his panic, Han Sooyoung had given him a deserved lecture that almost burst his eardrum. She hadn’t left him alone since. Maybe she had never left at all, considering how quickly Sooyoung reintegrated herself into his life.)
Kim Dokja was still haunted by endless, stressed apologies that never amounted to anything worthwhile, but were still taken without question by a boy who had never been given enough. He knew he would never be able to promise perfection, but Dokja hadn’t realized that he’d never be good enough when he had signed those papers.
He recalls clearly how overwhelmed and lost he had been whenever he worked beside Yoo Sangah late into the night knowing Lee Gilyoung had to sit at an empty dinner table at home. How exhaustion came with an apology as he dropped the boy off at school half an hour late due to oversleeping from overtime the day before.
But then Gilyoung remained stubbornly by his side, voicing his high opinions of his beloved hyung, and never faltering in his satisfaction even when the kimchi fried rice prepared seemed more like a lump of coal.
It was even worse that Lee Gilyoung had never complained, but the guilt served as a clear wake-up call.
Kim Dokja realized that he didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on his terrible performance. If he wasn’t good enough, then he just had to become better.
So Dokja tried to pick up shifts that overlapped Gilyoung’s school days rather than ones that filtered into the evening so he could be present. He learned how to cook, even though the result of his hard work still remained fairly unsatisfactory, and he picked up on pieces that he could do for Lee Gilyoung.
Such as dousing his clothes in a bucket of detergent at the laundromat after forcing Gilyoung to get in the shower when his son forgot about his objective after finding a family of spiders in the corner of their bathroom (Kim Dokja had no idea how to get rid of them now that Gilyoung had proclaimed himself the godfather to their future children).
He didn’t have the heart to forbid Gilyoung from scrounging in the dirt, not when he cared so deeply for insects and their occasional inspection of the neighborhood gardens had become a bonding point. Kim Dokja resigned himself to purchasing more soap.
He should put aside a fund specifically for cleaning supplies at this point.
Kim Dokja raps on the bathroom door before the sound of water inevitably begins. “Hey, leave your clothes in a pile on the floor. I’ll have to take them to clean immediately once you’re done.”
“Okay, Hyung!” The mild sound of the tap turning on trickles from behind the door. He also hears the sound of Lee Gilyoung greeting the spiders that were apparently still in the corner beside the bathtub.
That was probably fine.
Kim Dokja reminds himself to check Gilyoung’s pockets before throwing them in the washing machine and dousing the fabric in an ungodly amount of soap. The boy had a habit of collecting small… critters in his pockets.
Kim Dokja was in no way disgruntled or unsettled by bugs, truthfully. He probably wouldn’t have lasted long with a kid like Lee Gilyoung if that were the case. However, he had grown tired of finding grasshoppers in his house.
Plus, accidentally killing them when pressure washing Gilyoung’s clothes was certainly problematic since the boy probably loved insects more than any human on Earth.
(Not that Kim Dokja blames him for that. In fact, there was a slight kinship that he felt towards Lee Gilyoung’s incredible infactuation with insects. He had a rather similar feeling towards the collection of stories.
Maybe they were similar in the small ways as well, not as heartbreaking as the ones that itched deep in his mind reminding him of the world’s failures— though they came to light whenever Kim Dokja thought of why they both felt this way.
It didn’t matter; it wasn’t something Kim
Dokja necessarily had to reflect upon or attempt to change. Not even their love was left unbroken, but it was love nevertheless, right?)
“I need to work late today, but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” Kim Dokja promised, rushing around the apartment bright and early in the morning.
Dokja was pretty sure that work should clear up right before Lee Gilyoung gets out from school, which would give them plenty of rare downtime to do whatever the boy wanted.
Lee Gilyoung watches him flit around the space from the corner of his eye, smacking an unhealthy dose of peanut butter on top of his toast. There’s a couple more slices stacked haphazardly on top of each other on his plate, likely to be utilized in a strange, fat sandwich that Gilyoung had made his routine breakfast.
“It’s about to tip over.” Kim Dokja had given up trying to convince Lee Gilyoung into a more beneficial option. He just prayed that the kid wouldn’t choke one day.
“All good, Hyung.” Lee Gilyoung concentrates on balancing his creation on the plate, sticking out his tongue. “I can handle it.”
He fetches his key from his pocket, leaving the other house key on the counter for Lee Gilyoung and almost trips on the dinosaur figurine left on the carpet.
“Dinner’s in the fridge, Han Sooyoung should pick you up from school. Don’t let her trash the house.”
“Shouldn’t you be directing that last part towards me?” Lee Gilyoung shoves at least half of his piece of bread into his mouth in one go. (If Kim Dokja hadn’t grown used to his small quirks, he would have sworn that Gilyoung had unhinged his jaw somehow.)
Dokja winces. “I’m honestly more scared of what she’d do than any damage that you might cause.”
Han Sooyoung would burn the kitchen down on purpose just to spite him, which was slightly worse than Lee Gilyoung letting in a horde houseflies again.
“Don’t let her order in pizza again,” he orders. “You need vegetables.”
Lee Gilyoung flattens his sandwich to stuff into his mouth. “You don’t even eat vegetables, Hyung.” His voice is muffled and a horrendous amount of peanut butter was smothered on his face rather than in his mouth.
“That’s different, it’s too late for me.” He musses up Gilyoung’s hair affectionately and rips a paper towel off of the roll to rub mercilessly against the boy’s face.
“Be good—“ he pauses, “…or not, actually, be as mean as you want to be with Sooyoung-ah as long as the house is still standing by the time I get back. I’ll probably be back home by the time you’re asleep.”
Lee Gilyoung nodded and smiled sunnily at him, swinging his feet. “Bye!”
And then Kim Dokja’s out the door. He makes it to the subway before spamming Han Sooyoung with reminders to update him on their continued survival, ignoring the fact that she had taken care of Gilyoung countless times before due to his prior graveyard schedules.
He’s still not used to this whole routine. Instead of dropping down into any open seat or squashing himself into a corner of a busy train with only the next chapter of his beloved webnovel on his mind, he recalls the grocery lists that he needs to make on the way back.
Then again, it wasn’t just the things he did now. He’s basically a new person thanks to the responsibilities he has. Kim Dokja checks his messages before novel updates now. He’s a little terrified of the man he’s become.
It’s different, strange, but not terrible.
Lee Sookyung might have said that he was healing. That this was his new normal, one that he should have found years ago under different circumstances.
He realizes just how much his life had changed outside of just a mix-up in priorities when he mulls over the idea of visiting her again. Dokja doesn’t have the courage to see her face again quite yet, but it’s a show of time that he even thinks about the possibility.
Kim Dokja had chosen this route, the stress of foster classes, tests, and sleepless nights, because he had thought that maybe he could provide a better life for Lee Gilyoung.
He’d like to think that he provided a kinder future for the kid.
Maybe it was a better life for him as well.
The first warning sign was that the ride home had been left in silence. Lee Gilyoung could be shy, perhaps a bit cold to those he didn’t know, but he had never hesitated to ramble about his day on the way home from school.
He quickly realizes that something must have been bothering the kid. Gilyoung loved to absorb Kim Dokja’s undivided attention as he talked about the bugs he had found on the sidewalk, or the new things he had learned that day.
It was strange to hear him so quiet, even after a couple attempts of prompting a conversation on Dokja’s part.
Kim Dokja decides to leave the boy to his own devices once they reached the apartment, staying in the same room but avoiding any attempts of forcing him to talk.
Almost an hour goes by where Dokja remains on the couch, stiffly rereading the same damn passage of a book he had basically memorized years before as Gilyoung stared right through the television. He gets antsy as he dwells over his next move and the words on the page are stale.
Luckily, Lee Gilyoung pipes up before Kim Dokja has to awkwardly spark the conversation himself.
“Hyung, are you ever… lonely?” Lee Gilyoung’s eyes are distant as he flicks through the afternoon programs. He settles on an old documentary, but his eyes are too sad and telling for Kim Dokja to believe he was actually watching it.
Kim Dokja flips the page. “Of course.” How could he not be, when Dokja remembers the times where beloved people had been so close as a bittersweet memory of what he had pushed away?
Of what was entirely, undeniably his fault.
“Why do you ask?” He says, a quiet concern seeping into his attempt of casual interest.
Had something happened at school? Could Dokja call the principal? Did Gilyoung not have any friends? He doesn’t think that he could hold himself back if Lee Gilyoung admitted that he was being bullied or something.
“Nobody likes me.”
Kim Dokja chokes.
“That’s not true!“ Dokja drops his book on the table, forgetting to place a bookmark between the beloved pages in his startled rush. “I— well, I like you a lot, Gilyoung-ie! I love you more than I could possibly say.”
Kim Dokja doesn’t know what to do, but he understands that he has to say the right thing before this belief is cemented into Lee Gilyoung’s mind.
”That doesn’t count, Hyung. You’re… you.” Lee Gilyoung says. He still seems painfully subdued. “Hyung has to like me at least a little bit.”
Kim Dokja pats the corner of the couch as a motion for Lee Gilyoung to sit down beside him. Once the boy hesitantly moves to his side, he carefully leans a hand over his back and pats his shoulder.
“Well, not very many people like me either,” he admits. They used to, but now, Kim Dokja severely doubts they’d like to see his face ever again. “But it’s alright, you know?”
He’s learned to live with that, but he hopes Lee Gilyoung would never have to do the same.
“Really?” Lee Gilyoung shifts. “How?”
“I have you,” he hums and squeezes Gilyoung’s shoulder to prompt a small huff of laughter, “and that’s absolutely enough for me because you’re my whole world.”
Kim Dokja looks away. “And… somehow, you’ll find other people who’ll think the same thing. Just try not to push them away when you find them, okay?”
“And you won’t leave me, right?” Lee Gilyoung asks under his breath, looking up at Kim Dokja with a heartbreaking expression of affection and worry. “I’m not too, I don’t know, weird or anything for you?”
“Hey, don’t say that. Of course not,”Kim Dokja breathes. “I would never leave you, Gilyoung-ie.
(If he had made this same choice, said these words and meant it, would there be more people in his apartment now? Would they still be here in his life?
Kim Dokja could never know. He hopes that they’re doing well.)
“Are you having a rough time at school? Don’t wait to tell me these things.” Kim Dokja knows the feeling of being an outsider like a second skin. “It’s alright, we’ll figure this out.” He would go through Gilyoung’s entire class roster in search of a friend for the kid if he had to.
But for now, Kim Dokja drapes the blanket hung over the back of the couch onto Lee Gilyoung’s body and accepts that this would be a quiet afternoon for the two of them.
“You need more help,” Han Sooyoung watches him judgementally as he handles laundry.
Kim Dokja throws a couple socks at her. “You should be more helpful then.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she scoffs, but starts folding them regardless.
“I don’t need anybody.”
“Cringe,” she shakes her head. Kim Dokja gives her a flat stare. “Okay, fine. Think about your son then. You’re overwhelmed with work and I don’t have any experience working with kids. You have to have realized that we’re not qualified to do this by ourselves.”
(She still remembers how wrecked Kim Dokja had sounded the first time he had reluctantly reached out, only pushed to the need of finding assistance for his ward, not himself.
Han Sooyoung doesn’t think that she’d ever forget seeing him cry like that.)
Sooyoung frowns at him. “You can’t afford to run away anymore.”
Han Sooyoung’s words stick with him after she leaves.
You need more help.
She wasn’t entirely wrong even though the idea made his skin crawl a little bit. There’s at least a hundred unopened messages left in his inbox, each from a person who would jump at the opportunity to assist him.
Kim Dokja stares at his contact list until his vision goes a little blurry. He puts his phone down and keeps busy instead.
Kim Dokja could do this himself, he’s been doing well so far.
He has, right?
Sure, his folding was lopsided and the meals he prepared were often disasters put aside in favor of take-out, but that wasn’t inhibiting Gilyoung’s progress, right?
Lost in his own thoughts, Kim Dokja trips over Lee Gilyoung’s bug collection kit left discarded on the floor. A couple beetles scuttle out onto the hardwood floor.
Maybe not.
With doubts in mind about his isolated parenting strategy, Kim Dokja doesn’t last very long against the embarrassing realizations that had been waiting to be seen. The small problems he’s been noticing pop up start to take room in his mind until they’re all that he could think about.
They all pointed to the same conclusion.
Kim Dokja still dawdles. The messages in his phone go unanswered.
He cooks dinner and the result is slightly charred. They order take-out and Kim Dokja buys a cookbook. His culinary practices don’t really improve, but at least he had a couple more recipes to try.
Han Sooyoung falls sick with a cough that makes her sound like a dying bird when she speaks. A little grossed out and, though he wouldn’t admit it, concerned about his friend’s health, Kim Dokja researches if Lee Gilyoung’s school offers late care. He swears that the lady at the front desk is judging him as he tries to explain his case.
There are more problems than improvements and Dokja’s tasks keep stacking up. It’s a lot to do by himself.
A few weeks later, faced with the realization that, for the nth time, Lee Gilyoung’s plate ends up in the sink with every green pepper in the trash, Kim Dokja can’t run from the fact he needs to take further responsibility and reluctantly makes a call.
It wasn’t fair to Lee Gilyoung if he put his fears pride first.
“I need your help.”
The voice on the other end sounds disbelieving as it slowly answers, “Kim… Dokja?”
It’s not a surprise that he’d be so confused, considering Kim Dokja had dissapeared on him and hadn’t opened any the texts that had accumulated on his phone.
He knew that he’d feel bad about bothering Yoo Joonghyuk, but the cave that splits open, heavy and daunting in his chest with a stiff viciousness that was akin to ice, was worse than expected.
“Yeah,” Kim Dokja winces. “I’m sorry, but, look. I know Mia-yah would never eat certain foods and you always cooked for her and literally nobody I know has a kid except for my boss, and I’m not asking Han Myungoh about this, so…” he trails off.
“Wait. I was your second choice?” Yoo Joonghyuk sounds disgruntled, the tone quite familiar to the reader.
Kim Dokja laughed nervously. “Well…”
Yoo Joonghyuk had always seemed so put together despite his task of raising his kid sister while they were still enrolled in school. He had always seemed indomitable, orderly in the way he controlled the house, and knowledgeable in how to handle a growing child.
The problem had been that, well, Kim Dokja had pushed him away first when he had started distancing from everyone and Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t the kind to forgive so quickly.
(There was a part of him that regretted even attempting to talk to the man when the only result would be a harsh demand to never call his number again.
Kim Dokja was the kind to run away from these kinds of problems rather than taking the first step to fix them.
He was working on it.)
“I need your advice on preparing meals for my kid. We could, uh, text if that’s more comfortable to you.” After all, Kim Dokja knows Yoo Joonghyuk probably didn’t want to hear his voice a moment longer than necessary.
“…You have a child?” Yoo Joonghyuk says and there’s something strange about his tone that Kim Dokja can’t decipher.
“Mhm. I started fostering him a little while ago, but,” he exhales raggedly, “I haven’t figured everything out. Just this once, okay?”
“It’s…” Kim Dokja feels smaller than ever. It feels like he’s admitting defeat, talking to Yoo Joonghyuk off all people once again. “He’s not eating certain foods and I don’t know what to do. It’s not that big of a problem yet, but I need to do something and I don’t know what.”
There’s a hush over the phone that relayed a sigh, of which Dokja assumed was of annoyance rather than relief.
Yoo Joonghyuk goes quiet. Kim Dokja’s just glad he doesn’t immediately hang up since he wouldn’t be very receptive of a favor from an estranged childhood companion either.
“I’ll be there in ten,” Joonghyuk says, lacking any hesitation once he had arrived at a verdict. “It’ll be better to teach you in person anyways. Don’t argue.”
“Wh—“ The line disconnects.
Does Joonghyuk still remember my address…?
Unfortunately, Kim Dokja has minimal time to spiral, regret his life decision, and clean up the floor. The doorbell rings, followed by an impatient, painfully familiar rapping pattern on the door that could only signify one man. Kim Dokja cracks the door open awkwardly without a doubt in his mind. He would recognize this figure from a mile away.
“Hey, you’re… actually here.” Kim Dokja blinks in disbelief, as if Yoo Joonghyuk was actually an illusion that would disappear the moment he closed his eyes.
At least the house looks less like a disaster zone, though Kim Dokja couldn’t say the same for his own state.
Yoo Joonghyuk shifted, both hands stuffed in his pockets. He’s taller than the last time they met somehow, taking up a considerable amount of Kim Dokja’s doorway. “I am.”
It’s been a long time.
Not quite years, yet it felt like an eternity since Kim Dokja had faced this man. He remembers his own evasion and the distancing tactics clear as day, even more apparent was the memory of how hard Yoo Joonghyuk had tried to persist through it.
He had never met someone who fought so hard to keep him. It had scared him to death, but the reality of living without Yoo Joonghyuk (and the others, if he was truly honest) had been so much worse.
Kim Dokja drags a hand through his hair. It was unfair for him to contact Yoo Joonghyuk out of the blue like this, but he just didn’t know what to do. “This is weird, isn’t it? I shouldn’t have called you—“
“You should have,” Yoo Joonghyuk cut in sharply and turns away. “Maybe way before this as well.”
“Ah.” Kim Dokja’s throat feels dry. He coughs into his fist. “…Right.”
There’s a pin tucked on his coat jacket that Kim Dokja recognizes, one that he had made himself when they were in high school. He knows that Yoo Joonghyuk had noticed that one of the jackets hung on his rack had originally been his due to way his stare lingered at the corner of his doorframe before snapping back to Dokja.
He had been scared because of these things, of what they meant to him. What they could do to him.
Not for the first time, Kim Dokja wondered what his life would’ve been like if he had been able to stomach the kindness he’d been offered.
“I messed up, didn’t I?” Kim Dokja exhales and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Let’s start over, shall we?”
“I’d rather not,” Yoo Joonghyuk says. He stands, daunting in the doorframe, but his eyes hold the warmth of a hundred favors in them. “I wouldn’t want to forget anything. It’s all too precious, if you understand what I mean.”
Neither of them make eye contact for a long moment. There were a lot of things they needed to say, far more that they wouldn’t. All of which crossed both of their minds.
Now is not the time, Kim Dokja reprimanded himself quickly. We look like idiots, why am I just making him stand in the hallway?
He finally remembers how to be a good host, ushering the man in and motioning for him to leave his shoes by the door.
“I’ll show you where the kitchen is,” Kim Dokja offers. “Want to get started with cooking? I’ll write stuff down as we go, I guess.”
“Hm.” Yoo Joonghyuk takes off his coat. “Do you have a blender?”
It’s easier to forget about any tension once they’re in the kitchen. Both Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk work better with an objective, something to focus on that assisted in ignoring any awkwardness.
Bustling around each other in the crowded space, Dokja was reminded of their junior high years bickering in during their culinary electives.
Then of their college years, Kim Dokja nagging Yoo Joonghyuk about taking too long making desserts when they were supposed to meet up at the barbecue place with friends half an hour earlier. Late nights where he worked on a thesis while Joonghyuk prepared dinner or an early morning where Kim Dokja prepared an extra coffee to leave on the counter before running off to his literature class.
And of course, just a few months ago, before the easy closeness between them had begun to feel like a sin to Dokja.
(Leaning over to grab a couple spices over Dokja’s head, Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t ask why. Kim Dokja doesn’t bring it up. He has a stiffling feeling that the man might already know.
Yoo Joonghyuk had known him long enough to understand that he never really changed his perception of himself. Growing closer with others just meant that Kim Dokja had grown more sinister of a poison.
He had just grown to be a man that was capable of seperating himself from others before it spread.
But, damn it, Dokja could admit it to himself tbat he had really missed this.)
They didn’t talk about how the transition felt like the radio silence from the last year had melted away, just for a little while.
“While it’s always good to address pickiness early, secretly mixing in foods that the child dislikes is an efficient way to introduce the necessary nutrients without complaint,” Yoo Joonghyuk instructed. “Most children don’t have the palate to taste blended vegetables in a sauce.”
“Isn’t that a little mean?”Kim Dokja says half-heartedly, crossing his arms. He was a little embarrassed of how ready he was to utilize this tactic, but one can only patiently debate the necessity of consuming green peppers to a child so many times before becoming a little desperate.
(Not that he was upset with Gilyoung, of course. Kim Dokja had waited a long time for Lee Gilyoung to become comfortable enough to express his dislikes openly without fear.
It was heartwarming to see him open up, but holy shit, this kid needs some Vitamin C.)
Joonghyuk shrugged. “I reccomend carrots in pasta sauce, that’s what I used for Mia.” He nods towards the gathered vegetables on the table.
He squints suspiciously. “You could afford to be less picky as well.”
“Hah?” Kim Dokja almost slices off his finger.
“Watch out,” Yoo Joonghyuk twitches like he’s about to snatch the tool out of Dokja’s hand. “Do you know how to hold a knife, you fool?”
“You don’t have to be so worried.” Kim Dokja rolls his eyes. “You still remember that?” He hands off the diced carrots and turns on the fire, selecting his (only) frying pan and a couple eggs.
“Of course I do, you would avoid tomatoes like the plague even if they were perfectly ripe. How could I forget?” Yoo Joonghyuk huffed, an undertone of just because you tried to forget about me doesn’t mean that I did the same for you lingering with his reminiscences. “I cooked lunch for you, after all.”
“Hey.” Kim Dokja blinks, missing a beat. “You said those were leftovers.”
He tests the eggs, accidentally breaking a yolk and spilling it all over the pan. Yoo Joonghyuk arrives behind him, nudging him carefully to the side in order to reach around him to fix his mistake.
“I lied.” Yoo Joonghyuk clears his throat. “Anyways, the point is that you were too particular for someone recieving free meals to amend your… questionable diet consisting of that artificial garbage.”
Kim Dokja takes a step back so they weren’t squashed into a corner and crosses his arms. “I’m not picky if I avoid a singular kind of vegetable and it was convenience food, thank you.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s expression relays that the clarified title didn’t make a different to him. “Why did you consume such slop?”
He sounds scandalized, so much so that Kim Dokja decides not to admit that a daily selection at the store was his typical lunch since he didn’t have much time to prepare his own meal anyways.
“It’s in the name?” Kim Dokja offers drily. Not everyone has the time to create culinary perfection in the morning after all. “Hey, can you hand me the—“
Yoo Joonghyuk tosses the pepper in his direction and Dokja has to scramble to catch it.
“Hey, you bastard. Don’t throw stuff,” he reprimanded hotly, shooting a futile glare at the other. “And how did you know that I needed this? What if it was chili or salt, do you know how stupid you would’ve looked?”
“I could tell.”
“How?” Kim Dokja grinds a couple turns of pepper sulkily, placing it back in the cabinet afterward.
Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t spare a glance in his direction. “I just could. You lack pepper.”
“You lack manners,” he shoots back.
“Perhaps. I’ll come over every Thursday from now on, by the way,” Yoo Joonghyuk decides, ignoring the spluttering squawk that indignantly makes its way out of Dokja’s mouth. “If you learn how to make your own meals efficiently with proper nutrition, there will be no reason for you to spend money on terrible options.”
“You…”
“Hm?” Cleaning the table of any spills, Yoo Joonghyuk tilts his head as if he was daring Kim Dokja to object.
This guy…
Despite himself, Kim Dokja cracked a smile. “You know, I missed you,” he admits. “Maybe just a little bit, of course.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s expression doesn’t change, still smooth with an unfazed, determined attention on his task by the stove, but the brief hesitation before he started moving again gave him away.
“I did too, Kim Dokja.”
There’s some things that are still left unsaid, but this time, they don’t need to be spoken aloud to be understood.
This was how they used to be, effortless in a juxtaposition of squabbles and silent care. He had missed this, having denied himself of such companionship for quite some time.
They work in silence for the rest of the time. Yoo Joonghyuk, true to his word, shows up at his door the following Thursday to prepare dinner. He brings along Yoo Mia, who waits in the living room and watches the newest CGI-heavy action movie with the rest of the kids. Dokja brings them Yakult and peeled oranges to snack on while they prepare meals, which makes Yoo Joonghyuk nag him for “ruining their appetites” or whatever.
“Bring this to work.” Yoo Joonghyuk shows up at their scheduled time the next week with a stack of already packed containers, refusing to take them back when Kim Dokja gawks at the contents and shoves them back.
“I thought this was about Lee Gilyoung? You’re supposed to teach me how to cook, not give me food.” He examines the contents, a little unsettled with how premeditated the offerings appeared. It kind of reminds him of their school days once again.
Kim Dokja still puts them in the fridge since he’s not going to waste perfectly good food.
“Just do what Oppa says, Ahjussi.” Yoo Mia pops her gum and pats his shoulder when she walks past to try and find where Gilyoung was hiding in the apartment. “We care about you too, you know.”
Kim Dokja brings them to work for lunch and splits half with Yoo Sangah. She seems delighted by the lack of burnt crusts and had started questioning him on who he’s “seeing” now.
“You seem happier recently. Whatever the reason is, I’m just glad that our dear Dokja-ssi seems more lively these days.” Sangah had patted his shoulder and expertly paired a serene smile with an expectant glimmer in her eyes. “Perhaps this means that you’ll finally accept an coffee meet up soon?”
“I’ll make time.”
Yoo Sangah smiled at that. “I’m sure you’ll keep your word.” She straightened his collar and then resumed interrogating him on his nonexistent partner.
(Embarrased, Kim Dokja calls up Yoo Joonghyuk on the subway back home and tells him not to cook for him again. The man still shows up with a stack of dishes and stares at him until he accepts the unwanted goodwill.)
By the time they leave each week, his fridge is stacked with leftovers. Yoo Joonghyuk’s contact on his phone is no longer deserted, stacked with messages and short anecdotes.
It becomes a routine, one that Kim Dokja’s pretty happy about.
Kim Dokja was a registered foster parent, sure, but he had never planned to utilize his qualifications for housing more than one abandoned kid that had caught his attention.
However, not a lot of people would have taken in the children he cares for so dearly though. So no, he doesn’t regret anything other than his own personal failures. His failures, of which were amounted spectacularly quickly.
Such as now, as his two wards faced off with bloodlust written in the silence judgement of their young faces.
Lee Gilyoung shoots Shin Yoosung a dirty glare, crossing his arms. “We should fight for dominance, the loser has to leave.”
“Deal.” The girl growls like an animal. Kim Dokja puts a hand between them, more than a little concerned with how Yoosung seemed likely to launch herself at the boy.
Was I supposed to acclimate them or something?
The whole situation had been purposeful, sure, but a lot faster than his work with Lee Gilyoung had been. Shin Yoosung had been able to come home with him sooner than he had expected, and Dokja had jumped on the opportunity to introduce the two of them.
He had met Yoosung by chance, small interactions from the neighboring pharmacy where Kim Dokja had run into a small girl trying to carry a stack of bandages she was trying to pay for herself. He had helped her purchase the load at the tim and assumed that was that.
But then Dokja began to see her around town, coaxing treats to the stray cats that he had been feeding on his way to work. Parks, out at a time later than a girl her age should have been wandering at. Shin Yoosung had warmed up to him with bright eyes and a hesitant voice that reminded him of the small dogs on the street that she cared for so deeply. He became familiar with her sweet smile and softer heart.
Soon, a jarring notion had made itself clear as he realized how closely Shin Yoosung had began to fit into his heart in a place beside Lee Gilyoung.
Was this what it was like to have a daughter?
Then Kim Dokja had learned the truth of her situation and realized that he could make those thoughts into a reality.
The kids were similar. Shin Yoosung, another child wrongfully outcasted by a world that refused to look at those who fell through it’s wicked cracks. One with a broken home and a dead sense of family, but quietly unwilling to give up hope that the love society had spat on could be given back to them.
Their stories were similar in the ways that Kim Dokja hadn’t been able to look away from.
Maybe too similar.
“Hey, hey, no deal—“ Kim Dokja shakes his head frantically. “I did not do all of this paperwork for nothing. The two of you can coexist in the same house without killing each other, right?”
An awkward silence greets him. Dokja narrows a pointed look towards Lee Gilyoung. “Right?”
The boy grumbles, “Fine.” The half-hearted sentiment is echoed by Shin Yoosung as well.
Kim Dokja sighs. He remembers his childhood days when his mother had forced him to give Han Sooyoung an apology hug after their squabbles. Considering how that had ended in teeth imprints against his forearm for at least two months afterward and the bloodlust radiating off of the two, he decides not to push his luck.
Kim Dokja moves his study into his room so Yoosung could have her own bedroom. He doesn’t trust either of them not to suffocate the other in their sleep or something quite yet.
It’s a work in progress, but he’s pretty sure that the two should mellow out once they got used to each other.
Running into Jung Heewon had been by chance. Kim Dokja hadn’t expected to see a familiar face while taking Shin Yoosung out shopping for clothes, especially one that had cursed him out online for not accepting her calls a couple months ago.
“Dokja?” Jung Heewon’s eyes widen.
“Ah,” Kim Dokja rubs the back of his neck. Shin Yoosung looks up at him, confused. “Uh, hey, Jung Heewon. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“A while?” She repeated dangerously. “You—“
Jung Heewon takes a step forward and Kim Dokja jumps back nervously, accidentally yanking Yoosung back with him due to their interlocked hands.
“Wait…” she blinks in confusion, registering that the child next to Kim Dokja was apparently his. Jung Heewon’s jaw drops. “Holy shit!”
“Wait, wait, wait!” Dokja shakes his head frantically. “Hold on, let me explain!”
He’s given the chance to elaborate, the three of them situated at a nearby cafe as Jung Heewon stares at him incredulously while Shin Yoosung licks the whip cream off of her hot chocolate.
“Are you serious?” Jung Heewon hisses and glances at the girl sitting on her right.
Kim Dokja flinches.
“I can’t believe that—“
“—I took in a kid when I can’t even take care of myself?” He finishes meekly before her mind can make sense of everything.
“What?” Jung Heewon blinks and slaps him on the back of the head (he thinks that he could feel something rattle against his skull). “Stupid. I can’t believe that you wouldn’t tell me.”
Heewon pinches the bridge of her nose. “To be honest, you take care of everyone a lot better than you do for yourself. I trust you with treating a kid well, but have you taken a break since this had happened?”
She narrows her eyes at him. “And don’t think that this excuses your radio silence.”
“I understand,” Kim Dokja bows his head, already dreading whatever was to come. “So, what could I do to make up for it?”
“Well,” Jung Heewon taps her chin and a smile spreads over her face. “Since Dokja-yah asked so nicely…”
Jung Heewon tags along to every store Kim Dokja visits. Shin Yoosung was wary of skimming more than just the first three closest stores and taking the cheapest items on the rack, but as she saw Heewon’s genuine enthusiasm in searching for clothes that Yoosung would like, the girl eventually become more comfortable in being pickier.
Watching the two search giddily through the dress section of a boutique, Kim Dokja admits that meeting Jung Heewon today had been for the better. Especially if it meant his kid would find someting she adored.
After all, Kim Dokja was terrible with selecting proper choices, at least according to Jung Heewon after an impromptu fashion show where he had only been able to offer variants of “It looks great, what do you think?” as advice. He eventually gets kicked off the judge panel and Heewon makes him call Han Sooyoung instead, but at least he gets a couple dozen pictures of adorable outfits.
Kim Dokja purchases a variety of clothes, a couple simple sets of necessities and then the prettier pieces that he knew Shin Yoosung was eyeing earlier but would never admit to wanting due to the price (and the concern that Dokja would eventually grow tired of her if she kept being so much work for him).
Jung Heewon stubbornly pays for some accessories and other treats that they find, stressing that it was her duty as Yoosung’s (self-proclaimed) favorite auntie. They squabble like siblings as Kim Dokja tries to throw his card over to the cashier when she pulls out her wallet like a weapon, but he’s never been able to overpower a powerhouse like Jung Heewon when she means business.
“You know, today was really fun.” They had stopped at a food court to get lunch since the simple drinks from earlier wouldn’t count as a meal for any of them. “I missed hanging out with you.”
She warmly offers him a drink of her smoothie, almost bumping the straw against his nose, which he waves away with a nod of awkward acknowledgement.
“I did too,” Kim Dokja admits guiltily, picking at his meal as Shin Yoosung steals a dumpling from his place.
Jung Heewon bumps his shoulder, slinging an arm over his back. “You should visit Hyunsung-ah and me, bring the kid too. He’d absolutely love it.”
“Kids, as in plural,” he corrected.
Heewon almost slams her head into his face as she jerks to look at him. Her take-out box goes flying and a passerby almost slips on the mess of noodles that go spilling on the floor. “You have more?!”
She and Lee Hyunsung gets to meet Lee Gilyoung a week later when he nervously calls them up to ask if they’d be interested in helping him paint the kids’ walls a different color.
Jung Heewon swipes a streak of green across Gilyoung’s cheek as they worked while Lee Hyunsung eventually forgot his task as he swung Shin Yoosung around the room as if she were a soaring bird, causing her laughs to chime through the apartment like a blessing.
They finish up in time for dinner and Jung Heewon, along with the kids, warn Dokja that treating hardworking guests to a shared meal should be the standard of his hospitality. He doesn’t have the heart to deny them, not when the kids watched him so eagerly and he could see the shine in Lee Hyunsung’s eyes as he awaited his verdict.
Long after Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung’s bedtime, Kim Dokja bids the couple farewell with a couple colorful stains on his shirt that he knows will never come out.
He’s not too upset about that, especially when he realizes that it meant that this day would never be forgotten.
Kim Dokja balances his phone against his shoulder and ear, answering the incoming call without hesitation as he leans back in his chair. He’s not exactly a slacker, but nobody would pay attention him taking a phone call in his little cubicle. “Sooyoung-ah, I’ve told you not to call me during work.”
“I can’t believe you got another one.” Han Sooyoung sounds a little frazzled. “They’re both evil.”
“They’re my kids.”
His two beautiful kids. It hadn’t been very long in the grand scheme of things, but Kim Dokja would give the world for their happiness without hesitation.
He can hardly remember what it was like to be alone now. Maybe he hadn’t been as alone has he had orginally thought, especially when he considered the woman on the other side of the phone call.
“They can be both. I bet it’s your influence. Are you some sort of demon and just never told me? Are these two demons?” She grumbles. “I should be getting paid.”
“I’ve proofread your novels for you for free since college,” Kim Dokja pointed out.
Han Sooyoung’s voice pitches. “And that somehow equates to me babysitting your little monster babies?”
He stops typing. “My lovely babies.”
“You’re all horrible. Hold on, I think one’s going to eat the other, shit—“
Kim Dokja pinches the bridge of his nose. “I told them to stop biting.
There’s a pause and a barely audible scuffle from the other side of the phone. There’s a brief scream that almost deafens his left ear, though he doesn’t pay much mind to it since he’s pretty sure that it was just Sooyoung.
Dokja waits patiently until Han Sooyoung returns, sounding a bit out of breath, “I hate all of you.”
“If this is how you’re going to be, I suppose I could ask Sangah-ssi… I know the kids like her more after all,” he sighs.
“No. I’ll do it, fuck off,” Han Sooyoung snaps. Kim Dokja has to hold his breath to make sure his laugh wouldn’t be noticed.
He could have said that he’d reach out to Jung Heewon or Lee Hyunsung, as both would have jumped at the opportunity to meet the kids again, but neither of those options would have prompted such a vehement response form the tempered writer.
For some reason, Sooyoung had gained a nonsensical grudge against Yoo Sangah and almost blew up every time he hinted at his coworker being better than her.
It was fun to watch, he had to admit.
“Look,” he feels a little bad considering how much work he knows the two could be, especially when they were together. “If you decide to stay for dinner, I’ll pick up some fried chicken on the way home.”
“Fine,” she groans. He can imagine her begrudging frown in his mind’s eye quite clearly. “Hey, kids. Say goodbye to your stupid father.”
There’s a garble of telltale squabbling before the voices of his two wards become clear.
Kim Dokja refuses to admit that his heart skips a beat at the title, especially when both Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung’s voices ring out without hesitation in cheerful farewells. It feels like a critical hit to his heart.
How did he get so lucky?…
Yoo Sangah almost spills her coffee when she sees him clutching his chest, immediately rushing forward to check if Dokja was having a heart attack. He invites her for dinner as well just so he could see the look on Han Sooyoung’s face.
In hindsight, it’s easy to pinpoint what exactly had started to do wrong, which felt even worse than if Kim Dokja hadn’t been able to find it at all. It meant his overlooks were noticeable to a painful degree, that he had been right to assume that he was unfit to take care of one kid and especially two at the same time.
“I’ll be with you in a moment, Gilyoung-ie. I’m decorating the other room with your sister. This is her bedroom so it should look like it, don’t you think?” He could have caught it early, noticing the anxiety in Lee Gilyoung’s smile would have taken seconds if he had turned his attention on the boy.
“Oh, uh…” Lee Gilyoung faltered but offered a quick nod which earned him a soft smile from his hyung. “Sure!”
But Kim Dokja had been blinded by the responsibility of another kid and hadn’t seen the way Lee Gilyoung had wilted at the dismissal.
Kim Dokja had asked Shin Yoosung about her interests, trying to find familiarity with his newest ward so he could get to know her better. Soon, their trips home started to branch out from conversations about insects to facts about any other animal.
Shin Yoosung had admitted that she liked it when Kim Dokja would hold her, so contact became more common between the two of them. Hugs in the morning, a gentle pat on the back, and bundling together with a storybook settled in his lap became things between Yoosung and Dokja.
Lee Gilyoung had never said anything which made it easy to forget that Kim Dokja had never verbally offered. He had assumed, which was one of his first mistakes, that silence meant that Gilyoung had been content.
(Had Dokja so quickly forgotten his own silence, that bled with the desperation to be held without pleading?)
For a reason that Kim Dokja didn’t want to acknowledge, it felt easier to give affection to someone who didn’t remind him of his past self.
It was easier to pretend that he didn’t see the resemblance between himself and his mother when the child he looked so tenderly towards didn’t share a version of his tragic story.
It definitely didn’t mean that he loved Shin Yoosung more than Lee Gilyoung, but he couldn’t ignore the way his hands shook when he tried to give the same care to his other child.
He was still unsure of how to handle Lee Gilyoung with the ghosts of his past clinging onto the very sight of the boy, so he channeled his affection to Shin Yoosung instead like the solution would somehow come to him naturally.
Looking back and noticing these signs, Kim Dokja hates himself for not seeing them sooner.
If Kim Dokja had been more perceptive, maybe he would have caught it before Lee Gilyoung’s fears had created a turning point. It had been a school night, a session of studying settled at the table after dinner.
“One second, Gilyoung, I need to help Yoosung-ie finish her homework first. We can talk after, alright?”
“Why are you paying so much attention to her?” He whined and stubbornly shuffles to cling to Dokja’s sleeve. Kim Dokja hovers his hand over Lee Gilyoung’s shoulder for a moment before reaching over and patting his head absent-mindedly.
“Well, she’s my daughter,” the reason was as easily explained as breathing, spoken like a fact of the world, plain and true.
Shin Yoosung lights up at the easy admission. Dokja can’t help but chuckle at her pleased expression and places a kiss on her head with a matching smile.
He feels Lee Gilyoung tense up beside him. Kim Dokja turns and sees a fractured, hollow look in his eyes.
The boy stills. “Your… daughter,” he repeats.
“Yeah.” Kim Dokja looks up and frowns. “Gilyoung—?”
“I hate you!” He snaps, a quiet hiss aimed at the girl sitting next to Kim Dokja. Lee Gilyoung’s eyes were dark with hurt. “It’s not fair, how come— ugh, everything was better before you got here! Hyung, why did you have to—?”
“Gilyoung, don’t say those things to Yoosung,” Kim Dokja cuts in sharply, noticing how Shin Yoosung shrinked in on herself as the boy started ranting. His frown deepens as his voice lowers in warning.
“No!” Gilyoung stamped his foot down. “You don’t even care about me anymore!”
“Hey, no, Gil—“
“What’s so— what’s so good about her anyways? Why did you have to take her in while I—“
He throws his hands out, a motion that certainly didn’t mean anything but frustration, but then Shin Yoosung flinched back and suddenly the world feels too explosive for Dokja to handle.
Kim Dokja stands up, the chair emitting a loud screech against the floor as he shoots up. “Lee Gilyoung!”
Kim Dokja usually makes a point not to raise his voice at any of them which was probably why Lee Gilyoung stares at him with wide, uncertain eyes.
Lee Gilyoung takes a step back.
“Hey, wait—“
Kim Dokja reaches out a beat too late. The door to Lee Gilyoung’s room slamming shut breaks the tension.
Shin Yoosung stares down at her homework, hands fisted against the fabric of her skirt. “Uh, Ahjussi…?”
He knows Gilyoung’s apprehension towards Shin Yoosung must be his fault. Kim Dokja hadn’t been able to meet Lee Gilyoung with the same gentle understanding that he offered to her now.
He hadn’t known how at the time, trying to reach out a hand without leaning too close and now it was affecting everyone.
“I know.” Kim Dokja pinches the bridge of his nose with a weary sigh. He leans down to make eye contact, brushing his hand against her shoulder lightly. “It’s okay, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll be right back, okay, Yoosung-ie?”
“Okay.” Shin Yoosung offers a quick nod. Gilyoung’s outburst had startled her, but there was no doubt that she carried a genuine concern for the boy with the relief that softens her posture. “Take your time.”
Kim Dokja hovers in the hallway as Shin Yoosung scampers off to her own room, trying to find something to say that could make up for his mistakes.
Does it mean anything that I’m trying my best? Probably not, considering how the the easiest way to splinter an innocent heart was by weaponizing the excuse of good intentions.
(Just like her.)
Maybe it was the way that he’s never really had real arguments with the kid or that this a lot felt heavier since it included Shin Yoosung a well, but Kim Dokja had never felt a fear quite like this before.
Do you know how much I love you?
He couldn’t mess this up. Lee Gilyoung had taught him how to try, despite everything. Dokja wondered if he realized that, if he knew that even though Kim Dokja hadn’t approached him as warmly at first, it wasn’t because he had loved him less.
Do you know that I really, really do care?
“Hey, Gilyoung-ie.” Dokja knocks on Lee Gilyoung’s door first, hand resting on the doorknob. “Could we talk?”
Do you know that I’m sorry?
There’s a silence that meets his approach. Kim Dokja remains undeterred.
“I’m not mad.” Not at Lee Gilyoung, that is. If he was as inexperienced as he had been in the beginning, Dokja would be pounding his head against the wall in his room right now.
This was his fault after all.
There’s a small noise of assent accompanied by a sniffle from inside that halts his lingering. “It’s unlocked.”
Oh.
He feels warm, terrible, terrified, and determined all at once.
Gilyoung is looking for a comfort that he doesn’t know how to give. One that I had looked for once and never found, he realizes.
What a heavy responsibility. Dokja hopes he doesn’t drown under it for them both. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he fucked up Lee Gilyoung and turned him into a man just like him.
It’s just like before, only Kim Dokja was the one who was failing.
He deserves better.
Kim Dokja needed to be the better man rather than wallow over his poor preparations. Trying never seemed like enough, but Dokja had to realize that it was all he had; had to understand that he had to be the one to make that change instead of waiting for an angel to take his place.
Kim Dokja slides the door open, leaving it open behind him as he enters awkwardly. “Hey, listen, Gily—“
A quiet, bitter voice interrupted him. “You like her more than me, don’t you?” Lee Gilyoung rubs his eyes, gaze remaining locked stubbornly on the floor. He looks like a mess and Kim Dokja doubts that he was any better.
“…Excuse me?” Kim Dokja sits down beside him on the bed, unsure if a hug would be wanted at the time. Gilyoung notices his hand, hovering just before contact, and something in his expression shifts.
Was his overthinking the reason for why Lee Gilyoung’s this way?
“What? No, of course not, Gilyoung-ie.” He decisively rests his arm around Gilyoung shoulder. The boy tenses, as if he couldn’t believe it and Dokja wonders if he had made the wrong choice.
Then Lee Gilyoung sinks into the touch like it would be the very last and something inside his chest shatters.
His rotten touch shouldn’t feel like relief to a child who deserved so much more than Kim Dokja could give him and yet he was starved for this poison anyways.
What have I done?
“I should explain myself,” Kim Dokja sighs, “you were never a part of my plan,” he admits.
Lee Gilyoung shrinks forward as if Kim Dokja had spat on his existence and he stumbles over his words to clarify, “Not in a bad way— never! I could never regret you, I swear, Gilyoung.”
He drags a hand through his hair. “I meant it as… this is going to sound like an excuse, but I mean it as a reason. You deserve to know that I’m not made to be a model caretaker. I was, and still am, so, so scared of messing up. Especially when it was just us.”
“Because I’m already too far gone?” Lee Gilyoung scoffs, voice bitter and subdued like he’d already accepted it.
Kim Dokja never wanted to hear him sound so defeated ever again.
“Never.” His hold on Gilyoung’s shoulder grows tighter, realizing now was not the time to hesitate. “Because you’re so much better than I deserve and I don’t want to ruin you.”
He feels like glass, a two-way mirror that was exposing the worst parts of himself but Giluoung deserves to know. Kim Dokja’s own trauma brought him to hold the boy in an arm’s length away.
Look at him, guilty of the same instincts that drove Dokja’s mother to push him away. He still feels the vivid pain of her empty, silent stare. The kind of hesitation that had broken him worse than the bones cracked from a three story fall was now held in his very eyes.
I’m just like her.
And Kim Dokja knew far better than anyone else how that had turned out for the little boy on the recieving end of those mistakes.
He wasn’t good for Lee Gilyoung, not in the way that a healthy, mature caretaker should be and he knew it.
There was always a quiet apprehension whenever Dokja initiated contact because of the way he saw himself in Lee Gilyoung, but his way of trying to protect the boy had only served to isolate him in reality.
He hadn’t realized it was so apparent, that both of them were scared.
Kim Dokja sighs. “I don’t know what a father should be like. I don’t know how to give you a good childhood and I really don’t know if I can promise to do better with my track record. But I can swear that I’ll try. You’re why I can keep trying.”
“I don’t need perfection. That’s a stupid thing to wish for.” Lee Gilyoung picks at the stray thread on his shirt. “I just want you to… like me as much as you seem to like Yoosung.”
Kim Dokja tenses. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that you ever had to doubt me this way.
His heart aches with a familiarity that he couldn’t understand, yet would never forget.
”Have you ever heard me call you my son?”
Lee Gilyoung freezes and Kim Dokja realizes immediately why he had blown up after giving Shin Yoosung such a familiar title without hesitation.
“You are,” he breathes. “You have been for a while. In my mind, you’ve always been my son no matter the doubts or fears I have. Gilyoung-ie, you’re my kid.”
“I love you both,” Dokja assures him fiercely. “The only difference is that Shin Yoosung came after I adjusted to taking care of you, Gilyoung. There’s nothing different other than the fact that I’m more prepared now to care of you both than I was when you first entered my life.”
“I’m sorry,” Lee Gilyoung says. “I’ll… apologize to Yoosung too.”
Kim Dokja rubs his son’s back and leans his head against his soft brown curls. “I’m sorry too.”
He’s not surprised by how much he means it.
I didn’t want to hurt you and somehow I made it worse. Dokja compares how he treats the two in his head, the clear gap in comfort stealing the breath from his lungs with a painful realization.
He hadn’t realized his nervousness had channeled into something so painful for Gilyoung to see, especially compared to how he recieves Yoosung now.
(It reminds Kim Dokja of a silent woman, a glass barrier, and the jarring realization that he was on his own now.
He understands her more than he wants to now. It’s not enough to forgive, but he sees that his hands were a lot like hers.)
Lee Gilyoung shifts uncomfortably. “You don’t have to apologize.”
“I should.” Dokja should have recognized the importance of assurance a long time ago. “You deserve it, all the apologies in the world because you’ve made my life so much better.”
And in return, Kim Dokja had made Gilyoung question his place in their family.
He would apologize a thousand times more if his simple words could soothe a fraction of the hurt he’s accidentally been inflicting.
He shoves those thoughts aside for later. Kim Dokja could break down about his failures afterward in an empty room by himself.
“I mean,” he continues with a lighter tone, “I would have gone my entire life without knowing that a grasshopper’s ears are called a tympanum and are found on their abdomen of all things. I mean, can you imagine?”
Lee Gilyoung smiles. His laugh is quiet, but it’s a laugh nevertheless. Soft, wary, but lacking in any bleeding undertone of resentment. It sounds like a second chance that Kim Dokja shouldn’t have recieved.
“Maybe.” Gilyoung leans against his shoulder. “You could make it up by catching some grasshopper with me? Just the two of us?”
This kid… Dokja didn’t deserve him. Not by a long shot. He makes a promise to do better, for all of them.
“Sounds like a plan to me.” Kim Dokja’s face softens. He plants a kiss against the crown of Lee Gilyoung’s head. “I’ll schedule some time on Saturday. We’ll get ice cream too, the two of us.”
That weekend, he finds how much he had missed the closeness between him and his first ward. Kim Dokja’s blood runs cold when he realizes he was, once again, pushing someone away, even if it wasn’t on purpose.
He had to be better. Instead of just dwelling on the fact, Kim Dokja works to improve. Lee Gilyoung would never feel lonely again, not if he could help it.
Kim Dokja makes it a routine to dedicate a few hours a week entirely to either Lee Gilyoung or Shin Yoosung. He stresses the fact that this was to ensure they both got one-on-one time with him and made sure that they all got to have fun together as well.
Cat cafes, zoos, ponds, creeks, and amusement parks all become events on his calendar (he certainly doesn’t miss the days when they were just filled with hospital check-up reminders and work events for himself).
(Soon, Kim Dokja had to make an elaborate list of places to tack onto the fridge so the kids could negociate their next trip together.)
He belatedly realizes, once the two seemed to soften their claims of territory, that this approach of validating both of them seperately had not only assisted in his bond with his children, but helped in their understanding that they didn’t have to compete for his care.
Honestly, if Dokja had known this before, he would have made a whole charted schedule, color-coded and everything to solve their little rivalry. He hadn’t realized that his divided attention had been such a fundamental factor of their feud.
It makes sense now that he thinks about it. Lee Gilyoung, who had already been insecure in his place, had felt threatened by the prospect of another child entering Kim Dokja’s life.
He works to make sure this would never happen again, one park trip at a time.
He gets the notice on a Tuesday, a letter in the mail discovered stuck between the animalia magazine he had ordered for the kids as a reward for finishing their school year strong and his bills.
The preparation for another addition to the Kim-Lee-Shin household begins that following Thursday since Kim Dokja has to take a day off to lose his mind over the news.
Dokja swears that he hadn’t planned for any of this to happen. He says as much to Jung Heewon when he comes to visit and finds a cradle half-constructed in his living room.
“People don’t just magically get three kids out of nowhere!” She hammers down a nail with a little too much vitriol, looking a little frantic. “How did this happen?!”
“Okay, okay, I know—“ Kim Dokja runs a hand through his hair, scanning over the instructions to keep himself from panicking as well. “I’m confused about this as well.”
Kim Biyoo, a little girl who had apparently been his cousin (as the daughter of his aunt’s estranged sister), that had recently become an orphan, of which he had somehow gained custody over due to the rather unsavory circumstances of his family, making out Kim Dokja to be the only decent candidate that the system could reach out to.
“And you agreed—?!” Was the response that immediately followed his explanation.
Kim Dokja levels the plank of wood against the floor with pointed percision, glancing over at the manual once again to ensure he wasn’t making a mistake.
“She’s family,” he says, a little more defensive than necessary.
“I’m not saying that you shouldn’t have, you’re a great dad. Of course you wouldn’t turn her away,” she rushed to add with a gentler tone, looking up with concern. Apparently, his insecurities about his parenting had become a gossip point with his friends and now everyone knew his business. “It’s just—“
She smacks down a nail viciously, the clang of metal against metal loud as a gunshot.
Kim Dokja scoots away warily with his screwdriver.
You have two other kids! How does this keep happening to you?” Heewon shakes his shoulders, causing Kim Dokja’s head to bobble around like a spring. “Can you handle another one? Do you know how concerning this is to me?”
“I mean, what’s one more?” He jokes weakly.
Of course Dokja had realized this was different. Both of his children had arrived to him just on the cusp of their tween years and Kim Biyoo was a toddler, an age that he had no idea how to care for.
At least it’s not an infant. He couldn’t afford to be kept up all night because of a baby’s crying. Yoo Sangah would despair over his eyebags even more than she did now.
“Dokya-yah…” Jung Heewon pales at his words. She reaches over to take his hand carefully as if consoling a wild animal. “This sounds like an addiction.”
“Excuse me?”
“I can get you help.” She slips him a card, expression serious as stone.
Kim Dokja squints, puzzled. “This… is information for a sobriety assistance program, Heewon-ssi.” He wrinkes his nose. “You know that I don’t drink.”
“Whatever.” Jung Heewon motions for him to stack the side of the cradle upright so she could adjust the back in accordance. “You know that we’re going to visit you a whole lot more now, right?”
“I need a bigger apartment.”
Jung Heewon raises an eyebrow. “I know who could help with that. Say, a certain pro-gamer who racks in three times your rent with every paycheck?”
Kim Dokja almost whacks her in the head with an abandoned extra piece of wood.
He does end up calling Yoo Joonghyuk despite the teasing (they’re definitely close enough for Kim Dokja to ring up his number without hesitationonce again), though not for the reason Jung Heewon might have intended.
Though, maybe he shouldn’t have started the conversation with, “Hey, Joonghyuk-ah, give me some congratulations. It’s a girl this time.”
To his credit, Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t immediately hang up, though he does sound dangerously bland when he responds with a resounding, “…What?”
“Come over for dinner, I need some advice again. I can cook,” he offers.
Yoo Joonghyuk does not, in fact, let him cook. They talk about how to take care of a toddler over steaming bowls of rice and endless dishes of banchan served with a hot soup that Kim Dokja would nothave been able to create himself.
He doesn’t regret calling the man at all, especially when Joonghyuk shares his cultivated advice of taking care of a younger girl around Biyoo’s age.
It suddenly becomes clear how small Mia must have been when she had been dropped off at Yoo Joonghyuk’s doorstep. Yoo Joonghyuk, years younger and far more inexperienced, had needed to figure all of this out by himself.
Yoo Joonghyuk certainly hadn’t been born perfect. Kim Dokja had forgotten that, along with the fact that he was allowed to make mistakes like the man must have done in his youth as well.
“I guess learning is all we can do, isn’t it? I felt like I was lost, but we all are.” Kim Dokja laughs because the other other option was probably crying like a fool over nothing. “There’s no way to be prepared or good enough other than a consistent attempt to be there, huh?”
Yoo Joonghyuk stills, fixing an unreadable stare towards Kim Dokja. “Dokja-yah.” He seems to find something there that he accepts because he reaches out and takes Dokja’s hand. “You won’t be alone, you never are and never will be. You know that, right?”
“Yeah,” Kim Dokja chuckles, and he really means it this time.
It’s become clearer with every time Han Sooyoung bursts into his house and declares herself their auntie. It’s the truth, though he rolls his eyes every time.
Han Sooyoung had been supporting him from the start. She had been the one he could count on, ready to drop everything to watch Lee Gilyoung for an hour if Kim Dokja had been running a necessary overtime, even if she acted like it was a careless whim.
Times when Yoo Sangah brings her old childhood storybooks by, generously contributing to the large collection of stories tucked lovingly in his bookshelves (soon, the ones written for teens would outweigh the ones for Kim Dokja.)
She had been there for him all this time, waiting beside his work station with a mug of tea and a kind smile. Yoo Sangah had never pressed him during the rough parts of his life, but had never strayed too far away. She understood him better than he had thought. Kim Dokja invites her over and she gets along swimmingly with the kids.
Lee Hyunsung and Jung Heewon had been a large help as well, keeping him grounded in his own needs and offering their support in any way possible. The two lives farther away, having moved further into the city after their college days, but had never truly left Dokja’s side.
Trips to the zoo were accompanied by Lee Hyunsung, the large, dependable man crouching to hold Shin Yoosung’s hand as she sped away in the opposite direction of where Lee Gilyoung wanted to go. Kim Dokja trusted very few to handle his children out of his sight, but Hyunsung was towards the top of the list.
He’s relieved for the help. Maintaining proper care was difficult when it was divided between two rowdy and competitive kids and a toddler, while fairly easy to entertain was still a lot of work as they required every cent of attention Kim Dokja had to spare. He was lucky to know someone as dependable as Lee Hyunsung.
He made sure that the man was aware of this fact, sharing his gratitude with a few kind words that didn’t feel enough to cover the entirety of what Hyunsung’s assistance meant to him. Lee Hyunsung still teared up anyways and promised insistently that he would come to help whenever Kim Dokja called.
Jung Heewon had instructed him through getting better with communication, delighted to see that he was attempting to change now that he realized the weight of his actions. She coached him through emotional betterment with her characteristic strength.
(“You need to take some time for yourself too,” she had said. The idea seemed more like an excuse for the two of them to go out at the time, but then she had explained, “You should get to know the version of yourself that you are now. What works, what doesn’t, what you need to change.”
“You’re… decently self-aware,” she makes a face, “but only of the bad things. Not of what you’re doing right. If you ignore your success, you’re never going to get out of your head.”
“And besides,” Jung Heewon grinned and checked his shoulder. Kim Dokja almost stumbles into a wall. “When was the last time you hung out with anyone, you stupid hermit?”)
Then there was the man sitting right in front of him. Yoo Joonghyuk, who he had met forever ago, yet never truly known in the ways that mattered. Ways that Kim Dokja was becoming acquainted with once again as he witnessed the gentle care he gave Yoo Mia; the kind of care that he was teaching Kim Dokja to give and recieve.
Dokja had really been a fool to distance himself from him— from them all, actually. Had he deluded himself into believing he was by himself all this time when there were people waiting, just outside, wanting to share their lives with him?
He intertwined their fingers with a small squeeze, giving Joonghyuk a small smile. “You aren’t alone either, Joonghyuk-ssi.” After all, Kim Dokja wasn’t going anywhere.
Yoo Joonghyuk nods, his eyes soft and voice quiet. “I know.”
Yoo Mia may be over at their house for playdates more often.
Kim Dokja learned immediately that loving Kim Biyoo was as easy as breathing. Of course, doting over any of his kids was just ss natural to Kim Dokja, but cooing over her adorable beauty seemed to be infectious.
“Biyoo-ie,” he lilts in a sing-song as the toddler squals at the hounding faces around her. “Come meet the rest of the family, yeah?”
Biyoo blinks her owlishly wide eyes. They’re bright as stars, even from where they were tucked behind sweeps of soft curls. Kim Dokja sweeps her bangs, endearingly wispy in the way that was found with babies or toddlers around her age.
“Um,” Biyoo clings to the hem of her white skirt tentatively before making up her mind and chirply a loud, “Hi!”
She looks quite proud of herself. Kim Doka kisses her nose, delighted, and adjusts her little pink hairclips so they don’t droop over her ear. Tufts of fluffy black hair stick up regardless of his attempts of styling.
Adorable. He doesn’t doubt that everyone else was thinking the same.
“She’s small for her age,” Yoo Joonghyuk comments, kneeling down like he was trying to examine her. Biyoo sticks her tongue out at him and he raises an eyebrow silently. Dokja had tell that he was endeared.
Joonghyuk pats her on the shoulder approvingly and looks up at him with far more scrutiny. “Kind of like you, Kim Dokja.”
He objects uselessly, “Hey, what?”
“Yeah, hi, I am taking her,” Han Sooyoung declares, swooping in to steal Kim Dokja’s newfound daughter out of his arms. She twirls the toddler in the hair and Dokja almost has a heart attack. “Mine now.”
Kim Dokja crosses his arms to hide his nervous twitch forward. Jung Heewon gives him a knowing look. “You’d give her back as soon as you have to change her diaper,” he retorts drily.
“You see, that’s the merit of being an auntie. You play with the little tyke for an hour and then hand them off to the momma when things get stinky,” Han Sooyoung agrees shamelessly and bounces Biyoo for emphasis.
Lee Hyunsung clutches his chest like he’s been shot when the little girl emits squeaky little giggles and claps her hands together.
“Oh my goodness! She is the cutest, sweetest, most beautiful little baby in the world!”Uriel’s in the brink of tears, which isn’t exactly surprising. “Give me, give me!”
The woman had jumped on the opportunity to visit Kim Dokja’s home and had literally screamed when he had told her about the kids who were living with him now.
Uriel had fawned over Gilyoung and Yoosung earlier, bestowing a plethora of little candies and toys from the market, and now takes the chance to spirit Biyoo away before Han Sooyoung could throw her in another reckless spin.
Biyoo blinks, offering a smile. Only the pearly buds of her front two teeth are visible. The sight makes Uriel squeal and Biyoo tucks her face into the crook of her neck shyly with a mumbled squeak.
Kim Dokja swears that he sees a tear run down Uriel’s face as she squeezes Biyoo into her adoring embrace. He doesn’t blame her.
“She looks just like you, Dokja-yah!”Uriel says in awe, wiping her eyes with a small sniffle. She carefully pinches Biyoo’s cheek. “So, so sweet. Look at her beautiful eyes, her little nose—“
“Don’t insult Biyoo-ie by comparing her to that idiot,” Jung Heewon chimes in with a laugh, though none of them could genuinely refute their likeness.
“I’m going to be her favorite sibling,” Lee Gilyoung declares. Since the crowd of people had migrated towards Uriel, he now had the space to cling onto Kim Dokja’s shirt.
“No, I’m going to be her favorite. You’ll get ants on her, Stupid,” Shin Yoosung refuted from Kim Dokja’s other side.
“You’ll give her rabies!” Lee Gilyoung cries. “I can get my spiders to protect her!”
“Why would Biyoo like spiders? You’re going to make her cry!” Yoosoung warns with a melodramatic shudder.
Again, adorable. He’s forever grateful that the two weren’t intimidated by Biyoo’s presence in their household.
Kim Dokja drops a hand on both of their heads fondly, mussing their hair gently. “Yoosung-ie, you’ll be her favorite big sister and Gilyoung-ie will be her favorite older brother. Got it?”
Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung’s eyes glimmer in tandem. He shakes his head knowing that Kim Biyoo was going to be spoiled rotten by her two older siblings.
“…Okay, Appa,” they muttered.
Kim Dokja decides that Uriel had cried enough for all of them today and tries to hold back a sob as he squishes their cheeks instead. “Thank you.”
He sits back on the sofa with a long, content exhale. Yoo Sangah leans against his shoulder on his left while Yoo Joonghyuk bickers with Han Sooyoung right beside him. The room is filled with the bustle of voices, a kind of rowdy fulfillment settling in the air.
It’s the comfort of a life Kim Dokja believed he had lost the right to ages ago. One that he hadn’t dared to believe in when fairy tales seemed to be nothing but dreams made of dust.
Kim Dokja learns to believe in redamancy, a word he had only thought to be true in stories; love that was returned in full. He sees it in the beautiful moments in life, left as reminders like the extra pairs of shows left at his doorstep and the dishes stacked high in the sink.
His home, now filled with light, warmth, and laughter. Faces, so familiar and fond, that he thought that he had lost before. New ones too, little kids who thought the world of him and in return, he adored with his whole heart.
He thanks the universe for his second chance. Somehow, a family had finally found him.
Kim Dokja doesn’t plan on letting go.