hold my hand
Monday comes.
Today, he wakes up and there's a patch of sunlight on the ground, cast through the window he left un-curtained for Yoo Joonghyuk and the others yesterday. He gets up silently, putting on his uniform. His sweater is warmer than it usually is. He doesn't think about tripping at the top of the stairs, doesn't think about slipping and cracking his head on the ceramic sink basin. It's unlike him. This contentment--happiness, is that what this is?--doesn't fit under his skin, bursting at the seams and too bright.
Picking up his bag, he suddenly remembers the new charms hanging on its zipper when they clatter from the movement. A small squid stuffy that Yoo Joonghyuk won for him at the arcade they went to just yesterday; Han Sooyoung had said it had a stunning resemblance to him. Kim Dokja is honestly mystified by her sense of humor.
He takes out his phone for the videos he took--the videos he can actually take, because this phone doesn't have a pathetically small storage size. Because there are things that he wants to remember now, and he has the time. He sets the volume at the lowest level so no one else hears, maybe because he wants to keep this to himself, just to make sure it really happened. He takes in the sound of their voices, Han Sooyoung's wide-mouthed cackling and Yoo Sangah's significantly more dignified smile.
Yoo Joonghyuk lips are almost, almost curved. Kim Dokja can see his smile in the goddamn sparkle in his eyes. He wonders what his laugh would sound like--is he even capable of laughing?
Making his way down the stairs, he's caught up in his thoughts and it takes him a moment too long to see her. He doesn't expect his aunt to be awake, yet she is.
"Where were you yesterday night?"
Kim Dokja freezes halfway down, then wishes for just half a second that he had tripped on the way down. He steels his spine, he doesn't shake, doesn't cower, he's supposed to be different now---his aunt's glare is glazed from a hangover, yet it doesn't stop her voice from cutting through his skin.
"I... ah, with friends," he murmurs and feels small.
"Friends?" She scoffs, her disbelief like broken glass pressing into him. "Get down here."
He does as she says. She raises her hand and he goes still, but all she does is put her hand on his shoulder, her fingers pinching like she's trying to physically crumple him. She has never hit him before, never quite as physical as his late father, but he almost wishes she would hit him. It would be better than her silent judgement, her hate and the all encompassing confusion on where he stands. Her tongue is sharp like glass shards are. He never really knows what she'll do or say, and not knowing makes him--
"You think I would believe that?" She stares him up and down. He should have checked the ground floor before trying to leave. He should have left through his window.
He swallows. Discomfort creeps up his spine. "It's true," he tries.
A scrutinizing look roves over his face. "Don't cause me any more trouble, understand?"
"Yes."
"Your friends--" The way she says the word is enough for him to know that she doesn't believe him, "--will cause misunderstandings. Everyone in this neighborhood knows what you are. Don't come home that late again."
Or else.
"Okay."
She jerks her head to the side, no longer looking at him. "Go."
He leaves, feeling sick to his stomach. The clatter of the charms they got at the arcade yesterday only bring back a ghost of the morning sun.
If only she were wrong.
As he closes the door behind him, watching the glimmer of the cans and shattered glass bottle pieces on the ground, he reminds himself of reality. Not yesterday at the arcade with its bright and vibrant lights--that isn't his reality, he won't let himself think it is.
It was a close thing. He'd been so immersed in their world, they'd nearly convinced him of his belonging for just a short, sweet moment.
He knows his aunt is right, yet hearing the truth from someone else has always hurt more.
Yoo Joonghyuk, Han Sooyoung, Yoo Sangah--they might like him enough now, but they'll realize what he is eventually and they'll leave. They came looking for a childhood friend, but--he isn't his mother's child anymore. He never will be anything but broken, and--
The glass crunches under his battered shoes.
That's okay. Kim Dokja is fine. He'll settle, like he always does, because he has to.
.
.
.
He breathes in. His ribs twinge with a hint of pain, and he thinks about the crack they sustained not too long ago--the fuss Yoo Joonghyuk and Han Sooyoung made over that insignificant injury.
.
.
.
"Joonghyuk-ah," he smiles because he can't help it, "it's a nice morning, isn't it?"
"Kim Dokja," Yoo Joonghyuk replies, sitting at the highest point of the playground slide this time. He wonders if he'll go down the slide to meet him, but he doesn't, and Kim Dokja honestly wishes he had. He'd go down the kiddy slide all stoic-like, it's such an outlandish idea that Kim Dokja can barely imagine it.
The early morning sun halos his figure, a soft glow, warm yellow in a backdrop of mid-fall cobalt skies and red-orange trees. It's unfair, how the wind cards through Yoo Joonghyuk's hair and leaves him looking soft, while Kim Dokja shivers in the shade of the residential building by the park. Protagonist bastard.
His heart hurts.
Kim Dokja thinks, I can have this until they leave. And there's nothing more to it.
A subtle kind of peace graces Yoo Joonghyuk's face. Kim Dokja thinks that even if it's inevitable that they'll leave, that they'll tear him apart like they're taking pieces of him when they do, he won't mind too much. He'll break like the glass bottles on his aunt and uncle's front door step, but at least he'll have good memories to look back on. It'll be just like rereading a book, he tells himself.
"The sunrise is almost done," Yoo Joonghyuk interrupts his thoughts.
He looks up and their eyes meet--he must want Kim Dokja to join him. It's so out of character for him--stoic and cold Yoo Joonghyuk, that he finds his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. The reflex to try and annoy him comes after a moment.
"That's what you were doing sitting there?" he asks, "Watching the sunrise?"
A small smile tilts Yoo Joonghyuk's lips, but it's gone when he blinks. Maybe it was a product of his imagination, but Kim Dokja still feels like combusting on the spot from that slight movement.
"Someone taught me to appreciate the world more," Yoo Joonghyuk answers without looking away from him.
"Mysterious much?"
Yoo Joonghyuk's eyes don't stray from him. Kim Dokja wonders who it was that taught Yoo Joonghyuk such a thing, and decides it must have been someone special. When he voices his thoughts, Yoo Joonghyuk just looks at him, until his heart lurches and Kim Dokja has to turn away, or risk blinding himself permanently via Yoo Joonghyuk's face.
"I didn't think you'd be the type," Kim Dokja talks to fill the silence, "to like scenery. You're just so--"
He tilts his head. "You're right."
Kim Dokja turns to him again. The sun paints Yoo Joonghyuk's cheeks in gold, and it burns to look at him, but--
"You're agreeing with me?"
--there's a glint in his eyes, like he knows something that Kim Dokja doesn't.
"There's good in this world."
Yoo Joonghyuk is on a roll, saying all these out of character things. He thinks about pointing it out, but it would be presumptuous, insinuating that Kim Dokja is close to him, knows him at all, so he doesn't. Even though it feels like Kim Dokja has known Yoo Joonghyuk for longer than he has been alive, like he might have known him before, before, before--
"Huh," Kim Dokja smiles to himself, "is there?"
Yoo Joonghyuk might be the good in this world.
"There is," he nods, and still, he never turns away. Kim Dokja blinks, and in that fraction of a second, he watches as Yoo Joonghyuk ages before him--ten years, twenty years, a century. He feels like a bug pinned beneath a boot. "So that means you should never give up. Not until the end."
His eyes start to water. The gust blows through and forces him to blink, and the millennia in Yoo Joonghyuk's eyes evaporate like stars in a black night.
"Where is this coming from?" He swallows the discomfort, smiles to cover up the feeling that he's being seen. "Han Sooyoung would beat you for saying something that cliché."
Yoo Joonghyuk's eyebrow twitches in irritation. Success.
"Come here," he says.
"Are you going to beat me up or something?"
An intense frown mars his face. Does the thought disgust him that much?
"I'm kidding."
The frown lessens, somewhat, but it doesn't completely fade. Half in apology, Kim Dokja acquiesces, climbing the playset and joining Yoo Joonghyuk in the light of the sunrise. Yoo Joonghyuk shuffles to sit closer and the proximity burns, but he pretends it's just the sun warming his cheeks.
A hand reaches for his--he refrains from flinching away. Yoo Joonghyuk must take his stillness for permission, because he takes his hand. His hold is soft enough that Kim Dokja could pull away at any moment, but it feels wrong to interrupt this somehow, so he doesn't, even though sweat is pooling in his palms and his heart rate is rapidly rising.
"Joonghyuk-ah," he laughs nervously, "are you perhaps the clingy type?"
"And if I am?"
Kim Dokja, for once, finds himself at a loss for words.
"Do you mind if I am?" Yoo Joonghyuk asks again, after a second passes. Kim Dokja's hand lays splayed in both his hands, cradled between the two. He feels his thumbs press into the meat of his palms. The pressure tingles and makes his knees go weak, and it's a good thing he's already sitting.
Yoo Joonghyuk, what are you doing to me?
Oh God, he looks pretty today.
He's just holding my hand. That's literally it. That's all. This is nothing.
"Were you like this when we were children?" He expertly dodges the question--what does Yoo Joonghyuk mean, 'Do you mind if I am?' of course he minds, this is--
"No," he answers, then tilts his head so the sun hits the height of his cheek. "But I wish I was."
"I think you went about your phases the wrong way." Maybe Yoo Joonghyuk hadn't had anyone like this as a kid, being parentless.
Yoo Joonghyuk laces their fingers together and he does not squeak.
.
.
.
They walk to school together.
Kim Dokja fills the silence with chatter, because he doesn't know what else to do--not when Yoo Joonghyuk looks at him like that.
.
.
.
It's another cool morning, soft sunlight accompanied by the twittering of bird nests in the trees around the school, the monotone droning of their teacher at the front of the classroom. Another normal, boring day.
Cha Insook breathes it in, and it dissipates the stuffy feeling inside of her chest for a brief moment. Their teacher continues to talk in the background. Idly, she watches the new girl sitting at the front of the class--Han Sooyoung, if she's remembering right--and like her mind is being read, the conversation happening beside her shifts topics.
"Joonghyuk-oppa is super handsome, isn't he?" Seo-ah brings up, pouting and staring off like she's thinking about his face rather than the lesson.
Iejun gives a long suffering sigh. "I heard from Sun Ahyeong-ssi that he lent her his umbrella."
Cha Insook scoffs in disbelief. "But it hasn't even rained since he transferred. That can't be true."
"Oh, you're right Insook-ssi."
"If she was going to lie, she should have at least made it good."
They chitter quietly, laughing among themselves. Seo-ah takes the hair roller out of her bangs, brushing it out gingerly. She might be the most particular person Cha Insook knows when it comes to how her hair looks. She resists the urge to roll her eyes--what an attention hog.
"You must be grateful for Joonghyuk-ssi, huh?" Iejun grins, "You've been trying to get away from that jerk Song Minwoo for months."
She isn't entirely right, but Cha Insook doesn't correct her.
"I am grateful," she answers. "I wish I could thank him honestly, but that nobody is hogging him all the time."
Seo-ah puts a finger to her chin. "His name was Kim Dokja, wasn't it?"
That's his name. Cha Insook remembers him mostly as 'hey you' and 'slave' on account of Song Minwoo--it's good to have confirmation that the loser does have a name.
If she's going to go digging, she'll need it.
"And there are those new girls too, Yoo Sangah and Han Sooyoung," Iejun tsks, her eyes flickering to Han Sooyoung across the classroom.
"Yeah! I wanted to get close to him," Seo-ah crosses her arms.
"Who are they, honestly?"
Kim Dokja had once been in her peripheral vision, just a nobody who had been neither a nuisance nor a notable part of everyday life. She had liked it that way, but if he's insisting on standing in her path now, there isn't anything she can do for him. It's a shame--as long as Kim Dokja is by Yoo Joonghyuk's side, Cha Insook will never get a chance at getting close to Yoo Joonghyuk.
Feigning hesitance, she starts. "Do you two remember the rumors from grade 9?"
"Rumors? Which ones?"
They definitely remember. It had been the talk of the year.
She purses her lips and shifts her eyes away. "Kim Dokja tried to commit suicide. And there was all that stuff in the news, the "Underground Killer" novel."
"Kim Dokja is the guy with all the writing on his desk? The murderer's son?"
Kim Dokja had done a good job at staying out of the spotlight over the past year, staying quiet in Song Minwoo's shadow, but it's too bad his efforts are going to waste.
"Yeah, this is all old stuff though," Cha Insook waves a hand, then leans in.
They lean in too, guileless, doe-eyed, but she knows they'll eat her words up like sharks. By the end of today, everyone will know. Yoo Joonghyuk might be as kind as the rumors say he is, but not even he will want to stay next to a murderer's son. And even if he does--
"I heard Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk are together."
--Kim Dokja will know what's best for the both of them.
.
.
.
"Yoo Joonghyuk," Han Sooyoung hisses, "chill. You'll burn a hole in someone at this rate."
Dumb teenagers can't tell murderous intent apart from Yoo Joongyuk's regular gloom, and Han Sooyoung is genuinely afraid that a single wrong breath might send Yoo Joonghyuk off the cliff.
"Han Sooyoung is right," says Yoo Sangah, one of her hands fiddling with a newly dyed lock of lilac-silver hair. Realizing the nervous tick, she stops, but Han Sooyoung can tell how unsettled she still must be.
"Kim Dokja," is all Yoo Joonghyuk says.
"I know, you bastard." She knows. Of course she would know. "Just--" She cuts herself off with an aggravated sigh.
They shouldn't have let him out of their sight.
Trusting Kim Dokja had been her first mistake, and her second mistake had been assuming Song Minwoo was the only vulture here. Han Sooyoung remembers the blows Kim Dokja dealt his former bully during the apocalypse--self righteous, simmering hate, but that isn't Kim Dokja now. Not anymore. Not yet. Kim Dokja had always had a target on his back in the apocalypse, self-made or otherwise, and even time travel hadn't been enough to erase that troublesome characteristic.
They need to protect him now more than ever.
"Dokja-yah!" Han Sooyoung speeds up down the hall, walking straight through a small bubble of people without pause at the mere glimpse of the back of his head (what does it say about her, that it's such a familiar sight?). She barely registers anything but him, standing there like nothing is wrong. "Where were you?"
She checks him from head to toe--no injuries. There's nothing. She breathes out in relief, jaw aching from the tension she'd put on her teeth. Kim Dokja gives her that infuriating smile.
"Was I gone too long?" he asks, like it hadn't been fifteen minutes of waiting, waiting, waiting. "Did you miss me? I didn't think you--"
She mashes her teeth together again. Never mind Kim Dokja's lack of injuries, that won't be true once she's given him a piece of her mind--
"Where were you?" she repeats her question.
Yoo Joonghyuk and Yoo Sangah flank her, and Kim Dokja looks between the three of them. His smile wobbles.
"Like I said, I just forgot stuff in my locker."
She doesn't believe it for a second.
"Did you get lost in the hall or something?"
"We were worried," Yoo Sangah finally says. A look of confusion and understanding paradoxically dawn on Kim Dokja's face. "We thought something might have happened."
She phrases her words carefully, but Han Sooyoung sees the scrutinizing glint in her eyes, prodding for anything that might be wrong.
"Nothing happened," Kim Dokja's expression smooths out. "Let's go back to class, the teacher will get annoyed at us if we're gone too long."
He swiftly walks past them. Yoo Joonghyuk snags his wrist, halting his movement briefly.
"Take one of us with you next time."
Kim Dokja turns again to face him, humor warring on his face.
"I don't need a babysitter? I'm honestly fine. Just because I was getting bullied before, doesn't mean I'm everyone's target."
Yoo Joonghyuk's frown deepens. "Still."
Kim Dokja stares at Yoo Joonghyuk for a moment. Han Sooyoung is sure he'll crumble for a moment, weak to Yoo Joonghyuk as he is, but he doesn't.
"Don't worry about me," he says instead. "Let's go."
"Damn squid," she mutters under her breath.
What could have happened in fifteen minutes? Han Sooyoung wants to think nothing could have happened, but she isn't that naïve.
They go to class. Yoo Sangah pretends to diligently take notes, and Yoo Joonghyuk barely makes a show of not looking away from Kim Dokja. In not the most discrete of manners, she hears Kim Dokja hiss at Yoo Joonghyuk to pay attention to the board. The teacher shoots him a side glance, and he shrinks back.
Yoo Sangah's mechanical pencil creaks from pressure.
It's just a matter of time, Han Sooyoung thinks, before something blows.
.
.
.
The day drags on.
The air gets heavier.
Is it the clouds converging on the blue sky, or is it something else?
.
.
.
When lunch comes, they sit at the bleachers by the grass field, listening to the distant cheers and shouts of sports teams. Kim Dokja puts up a token protest, suggesting they go to the cafeteria--for the sake of socializing, she figures. Han Sooyoung easily pulls him into bickering back and forth while they eat Yoo Joonghyuk's lunchboxes.
"Yoo Joonghyuk," Kim Dokja begins, "you must really like feeding people."
A tick appears in Yoo Joonghyuk's brows. They're both so oblivious, it kills Han Sooyoung to watch it--for God's sake, Kim Dokja is holding a character lunchbox. Han Sooyoung and Yoo Sangah's similarly prepared lunchboxes are a byproduct of Yoo Joonghyuk's 'swooning teenage girl' shtick.
"He doesn't eat anything other people make for him," Han Sooyoung answers. And he's too emotionally constipated to say 'I love you' like a normal, functioning member of society.
He never got to tell the future Kim Dokja, did he?
No. Not thinking about that. Don't think about that here.
Kim Dokja sits there, processing for a moment. She watches thoughts fly through his eyes--it's a new thing, being able to tell so clearly what's going on in his head. He appears to come to the conclusion that it's just another quirk of Yoo Joonghyuk's, nodding and filing the information away, a book to a library.
"If I could cook like this, I'd never want to eat anyone else's food either."
Yoo Joonghyuk preens. Like he's not aware of exactly how good he is at cooking.
.
.
.
That afternoon, it rains.
Kim Dokja insists on going straight to his own place from school rather than going to Yoo Joonghyuk's, and even though it leaves a bitter taste in Yoo Joonghyuk's mouth, he lets him leave. As if that place with its broken glass bottles and the stench of alcohol could possibly be Kim Dokja's home.
The smell of petrichor stings his nose.
"Stop sulking," says Han Sooyoung.
"I'm not sulking."
"...Sure."
The urge to follow Kim Dokja is a near physical tug. Han Sooyoung and Yoo Sangah feign not feeling the same, but he knows they do. Without Kim Dokja here, it's all too easy to forget that they're in the past. That things are different. The torrential downpour darkening the sky only manages to make things worse.
"Gilyoung-ah and Yoosung-ah will be here soon," Yoo Sangah deftly changes the subject, "shall we hurry and meet them?"
Yoo Mia will be happier that they're finally joining them. Being the same age, the three of them had become close. Although Yoo Joonghyuk is aware they've retained their memories and experiences, it doesn't change the fact that both Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung are barely five years old, so they walk through the frigid rain and growing puddles with a sense of urgency. Cars speed past them, uncaring of the sprays of rain water they send toward the sidewalks.
Will Kim Dokja be warm at home? Does he have spare clothes to change into, a meal on the table?
He's so close, yet so far.
If he burned Kim Dokja's caretaker's house down, would Kim Dokja stay with him?
His musing are cut short at the sight of two children, standing under the awning of a bus stop. He almost doesn't recognize them--at least with Yoo Mia, he was able to recall how she looked when she was much younger. They're tiny. Much smaller than he'd expected, somehow.
Shin Yoosung's eyes blow wide when she sees them and she runs to meet them halfway, Lee Gilyoung quickly following without a moment of hesitation. They get drenched instantly, clothes darkening like the cloudy skies.
"Ahjussi--is ahjussi with you?" she asks first, staring up at Yoo Joonghyuk.
His clothes weigh on his shoulders heavily, soaked through. He shakes his head.
Shin Yoosung's eyes tremble. She bites her lip and her tears mix with the rain. She uses a ratty shirt sleeve to wipe her face of water, discretely hiding the despair and disappointment on her face.
"We can see him tomorrow," Yoo Joonghyuk tells them.
"Tomorrow?" Lee Gilyoung repeats, sounding small.
"Tomorrow."
They nod.
He holds out a hand for Shin Yoosung to take while they walk--he knows it must be difficult, being five again. He wishes he brought an umbrella or a coat for them. Being this young, they're clearly colder than Yoo Joonghyuk, Han Sooyoung, and Yoo Sangah. Rather than taking his hand like he expects, Shin Yoosung crashes into his legs. The force nearly makes him stumble, but it's only from surprise--she's weaker than she should be and swaying slightly.
"Biyoo says she wants to go home and eat," she murmurs.
"...Then let's go."
Yoo Joonghyuk exchanges looks with Han Sooyoung and Yoo Sangah. Their expressions are grave at Shin Yoosung's words.
Biyoo had warned them that traveling back in time would come at a cost. This is the price--for the sake of her father. Her savior. Their one and only home.
"She also said," Shin Yoosung quietly continues, "to remind you that she chose this."
Yoo Joonghyuk can't think of a single thing to say, so he nods mutely and leads them home.
The murmur of Yoo Sangah and Lee Gilyoung speaking is obscured by the rain, but he catches the gist as they walk along the side of the road.
Lee Gilyoung has told his parents everything.
It's a wonder that they believed the words of their five year old child, but maybe it's clear--even to normal people--that Lee Gilyoung is no longer one of them. An apocalypse behind his eyes, death and resurrection and everything in between.
"As long as they moved, I agreed to behave. They don't want me anymore."
A sharp breath jolts Yoo Sangah's frame.
To them, Lee Gilyoung must have undergone an overnight transformation--no longer the same. No longer their sweet, docile child. No longer acceptable.
"So, it's no problem if I'm gone for the night."
So they abandoned him.
Lee Gilyoung doesn't cry.
They're a band of outcasts. Wanderers. Yoo Joonghyuk is familiar with this feeling--struggling to belong, trying to carry the burden of unquantifiable past lives and interactions that never came to be. Before the regression he'd shared with Kim Dokja, Yoo Joonghyuk had been a solitary existence, alone in his determination and survival and his hell of eternity. Here and now, he is no longer alone, and Yoo Joonghyuk finds little comfort in this fact.
When they arrive at home, drenched by the rain, Yoo Mia is there to greet them at the door. Yoo Joonghyuk steps in first and sees the pile of fluffy white towels piled by the shoe rack, undoubtedly brought here by his little sister.
He ruffles her hair. Her nose scrunches at the way his clothes drip and at the slight dampness to his skin.
"I'll cook now."
She nods and leaves to show Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung the bathrooms to take much needed showers. Yoo Joonghyuk doubts that Shin Yoosung has had one since they landed in the past.
As Yoo Joonghyuk walks to the kitchen, without paying a single mind to her clothes, Han Sooyoung falls onto the couch. Yoo Sangah indulgently towel dries her hair, so tenderly that Han Sooyoung's ears become bright red in just moments.
This is how it should be, he thinks.
Yet, Kim Dokja isn't here.
.
.
.
Yoo Joonghyuk starts thinking about what food he'll bring tomorrow for him.
.
.
.
At night, someone knocks on her door. Shin Yoosung barely hears it over the pitter patter of the rain hitting the house, but she does, and she recognizes the pattern they made together. As much as they fought over Ahjussi's attention and affection, they do have a mutual understanding.
You just don't want to admit you like him, Biyoo laughs.
"Shin Yoosung," his voice comes after she waits a moment too long.
She opens the door and Lee Gilyoung stares at her. She realizes he's shorter than her for now, and for just a moment, she relishes in the reversed height difference. She makes the decision to not lord it over him, because she's not immature enough to do that.
"Gilyoung."
"Let's go sleep in Yoo Mia's room."
"Okay," she says. "Did you ask?"
"Of course, do you think I'm stupid?"
"Yeah, obviously."
Sangah-noona comes out the bathroom wearing an elegant set of night clothes and an awkward expression. "You two... maybe it would be better if you talked a bit more normally, for five year olds I mean?
Lee Gilyoung's eyebrow scrunches. As much as he claims to hate the 'sooty bastard,' their facial expressions really match, don't they? Like if Joonghyuk-ssi and Ahjussi had a child...
"Talk dumber? How?"
No. Lee Gilyoung doesn't have a single drop of her Ahjussi's grace and kindness.
Sangah-noona stands still for a bit, until her lips stretch into a cryptic smile.
"No, nevermind me," she refutes hersel, "I think it should be fine. Please continue doing what you were."
At that, she retreats to her room with Han Sooyoung.
"She meant act cuter," Shin Yoosung tells him once she's out of sight. "You're too crass."
"And using the word 'crass' is going to make you sound like you're five... how?"
"I'm not gonna act like a five year old in the house."
"Hey." Shin Yoosung turns to see Yoo Mia in all her five-year-old glory, hands on her hips and stoic face. "What's taking you two so long?" She looks so much like her dear 'oppa' that Shin Yoosung has to hold her breath for a second to stop herself from laughing.
"It's nothing," she answers, "just Lee Gilyoung being dumb again."
.
.
.
Yoo Joonghyuk can't get used to sleeping through a full night, so he gets up early to at least be productive. The children get their own lunchboxes, and today, he walks Yoo Mia, Shin Yoosung, and Lee Gilyoung to their kindergarten classes, despite their protests about being able to go alone.
It's just for today.
The other parents dropping off their children don't hide their gazes, straying to him and the children. Despite knowing it means nothing, the crowd and the loud cries of kindergarteners grates on his nerves. Yoo Joonghyuk is glad that Yoo Mia wasn't like them at this age.
He speaks to the kind-eyed teacher for a brisk minute when she approaches their little bubble and double checks that the children have all they need for the day.
"When can we see Ahjussi?" Shin Yoosung asks just as he's about to leave, a hand tugging on his blazer sleeve.
Kim Dokja. Yoo Joonghyuk wants to make it to the playground quickly.
"I'll bring him after school," he promises.
Lee Gilyoung speaks up. "Can we meet you at your school?"
I'm negotiating with kindergarteners.
He sighs. "Do you know the directions?"
"Tell us the address, I can figure it out," Yoo Mia huffs. Shin Yoosung grins at her widely, and she looks away, abashed.
Yoo Joonghyuk is glad Yoo Mia has friends, so he ends up caving and giving them the address. It should be a safe enough walk for them, and they can defend themselves. They've fought beings much larger in comparison.
.
.
.
He walks to the playground, and thinks about Kim Dokja as he waits.
.
.
.