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Life was… hard, to put it simply. But lately, it was getting better.
After the apocalypse, what was the worst that could happen? Aside from being half dying and being half stuck watching over hundreds of worldlines for hundreds of years. And dying. More than twice. Which is certainly a lot considering most people die only once. And dividing yourself into millions of tiny fragments scattered around the universe. Which is absolutely a whole lot considering most people don't do that at all.
So yes, it was getting better. Slowly, carefully, but it was.
When Kim Dokja first woke up, he was alone, but not for long. Soon the ridiculously-big-for-one-comatose-patient hospital room was filled with screams and cries and apologies and promises. It was a messy family reunion, but that was okay. They were used to it.
(He is embarrassed about it, but Kim Dokja's first thought was along the lines of "Every character reached their happy ending". Later, when the sun had fully set and as he absently petted the sleeping children’s heads, he realized his mistake. They weren't characters anymore, and he wasn't a reader of their story. It wasn't an easy thought, and he wouldn't accept it just like that. However, they were here, with him; and he was here, with them. And maybe, just maybe, they could stay like that for as long as possible. And if it wasn't possible, then they would make it be. Just as they always did).
Kim Dokja wasn't particularly scared of change. He was forced not to be. He learned to take what was thrown at him without much care. There were many things he wanted to ask. Like: What schools were the kids going to? Or, how much time has passed? Or, why did you go through so much trouble for someone like me-. But he didn't ask.
When he moved in with Yoo Joonghyeok, he did not ask, and he did not care. That last bit is a lie. He did care. A lot, actually. But he tried to seem nonchalant about it. Fake it 'til you make it, they say.
No one else asked or cared either. Kim Dokja was a little disappointed that no one mentioned anything about a big house to live together, but he understands. More accurately, he tries to. He has some idea about what happened while he was on the train. Recovery was slow for everyone. Jung Heewon and Lee Hyungsung were awkward around each other, all members of Kim Dokja’s Company were “too busy” to meet often, and Yoo Joonghyuk... who knew what was going on in his head. Kim Dokja did not.
He was a little worried about rent, though. When he asked about what Yoo Joonghyuk did for a living, he was answered with:
“Terrorism.”
“Ah… Isn't he like an astronaut now?”
“Yoo Joonghyuk-ssi? I think he is unemployed.”
“He is a sooty bastard, full-time.” “Lee Gilyoung!”
He was very worried about rent now.
The house was fine. Nice, kind of minimalistic, medium-sized. Definitely bigger and better than any house Kim Dokja had ever lived in, but not remarkable. The house wasn't the problem. No, the problem was that Kim Dokja was insanely bored.
It was Tuesday morning, so no calling anyone; they were all at work or school. Yoo Joonghyuk had locked himself in his studio again and probably won't come out for a few hours. It wouldn't make any difference even if he was here. That guy had as much presence as a piece of furniture when he wanted to.
He decided to explore the house. It was painfully slow because Kim Dokja wasn't accustomed to moving in a wheelchair, or moving in general. There was a TV; not interested. He could go to sleep, but—truth to be told—he preferred not doing it any more than necessary. He hasn't been dreaming (yet, he reminded himself), and he didn't want to take his chances. He stopped in front of a shelf full of books.
Reading was... He wasn't sure if he was ready for it. But he was still Dokja, wasn’t he? Who is he without reading? Is not that he doesn't like it anymore. But, could he do it again? Read again? He promised Han Sooyoung that he would read her novel. He had to get used to reading.
"Get used to reading", what a silly thought for Kim Dokja. Reading is what he does, what he is. He is a reader.
With uneven breaths, he picked a random book. He allowed his eyes to take in the contents of the cover. Then he wheezed.
“Ha… What", wheeze, “is this…”
The Lone Mola Mola, read the title. It wasn't that what caught his eyes, though. It was the stupid-looking sunfish in the center.
Kim Dokja spent more time laughing at it than what is considered socially appropriate.
In the end, he took the book to his room.
He tried to read it. Keyword: Tried. The drawings made it really hard for him alright. It wasn't as if they were ugly or poorly drawn. They were just...
Kim Dokja was, once more, laughing.
Focus, Kim Dokja, focus.
Mola Mola was sad. Sad and alone. Poor Mola Mola. Enter a picture of a sad Mola Mola alone in the ocean. Mola Mola thought: ‘If I was stronger, could I have saved my now fallen brothers and sisters?’ The gods of the sea, seeing its despair, took pity on the poor Mola Mola. This is the story of… SSSSS-class Mola Mola Regressor! Picture of Mola Mola again, now with a fierce and determined look.
He couldn't do this anymore.
One of Kim Dokja’s favorite things about being back was getting to eat Yoo Joonghyuk’s food every day. And he quite liked spending time with the chef, but he would never admit that out loud.
Their dinners—unlike their lunches, where sometimes the kids would join—were quiet. A comfortable quiet. One would think that after hundreds of years of being apart from each other, there would be a lot to talk about. And there was. But talking was never their kind of thing.
Kim Dokja sneaked a glance at Yoo Joonghyuk. Dumb protagonist… Being cool even when doing such a simple task like eating… Wait, not cool. More like…
He choked. Yoo Joonghyuk tensed, and he looked a second away from running to his side. He opened his mouth to ask about his well-being, but ended up closing it, not a single word said. Emotionally constipated bastard.
“I’m… fine. It’s okay.”
Yoo Joonghyuk hesitated but ultimately averted his eyes back to his plate and continued eating. Kim Dokja kept staring at him as if he just discovered something of vital importance. He did, in a way. The ex-regressor sitting there… Worried about his companion but not knowing what to do… So ready to provide aid and protect… He looked a bit like the Mola Mola from the book.
Kim Dokja snorted and received a raised eyebrow in response. Really, why did Yoo Joonghyuk have such a book even. He was still staring and Yoo Joonghyuk frowned. Which only made it worse, and now Kim Dokja was full-blown laughing. Truly a sunfish in all possible ways.
The next day, he went to the bookshelf again. It had caused him so much distress yesterday, but he browsed through it eagerly today.
He found what he was looking for. A children’s book with the same dumb drawings as the one sleeping safely by his bed. This book was called How to math for dummies. Not the kind of thing someone, much less an adult, would read out of interest.
Kim Dokja wasn't into math, and he wasn't a “dummy”. Nevertheless, he read the 120 pages only for the pictures.
The protagonist in this one was a monster, more or less. It was covered with hair and had long legs and arms. It appeared from page to page to make small clarifications. The only exception was page 98, Quadratic equations, in which it only stood there looking blankly at the text, not one of its usual comments in sight.
He couldn't figure out if it was the artist’s laziness, a mistake on the editors’ part, or the monster was just as confused with the paragraph as Kim Dokja was, but he found it extremely funny all the same.
“Have you been… like, reading?” Han Sooyoung asked him one day.
It was on one of the rare company meetings. Kim Dokja was enjoying it, of course, but sometimes they were… too much, too overwhelming. So he decided to accompany Han Sooyoung, who was smoking outside. The sky was dark, not a single star in sight. Kim Dokja liked it better that way. What he didn't like was her tone when she asked. She sounded cautious, insecure, out of character.
He nodded. “…Children's books.”
“Is that so? Are they good?”
He turned around to look at her. With a solemn face, he said: “Absolutely fantastic.”
Her grin grew bigger. “They can't be that great. Have your tastes gotten worse?”
“I read your stories, didn't I?”
Silence.
He looked at the sky again, and this time, he didn't like it so much.
“I’m so-”
“No, no. It's fine. I shouldn't have brought up the topic.”
More silence.
“It’s okay if you… Look, I mean, ugh. You don’t have to force yourself, alright? Not a reader anymore. And I haven't been much of a writer these last years except for… you know. It doesn’t matter anymore. No one expects you to be like before as if nothing happened. You are recovering. Give it time.”
He nodded.
“We… are all recovering. Let's give it time.” She threw her cigarette and stomped on it. Her words sounded small in this silence. They were so small compared to the endless, cloudy sky above them.
Kim Dokja really wished there was a “How to recover faster” book.
There wasn't such a book, obviously. And he needed to stop looking at this bookshelf as if it held the key to solving all puzzles. He didn't. He ran his hand through the spines, contemplating what he should do. His hand stopped when a certain title picked his interest.
A happy ending is for everyone
“So cheesy…”, he said, but he grabbed it nonetheless.
It was another of those books, the ones with charming pictures. He let out a tiny snicker.
He didn't try to read it this time. He focused on touching and looking at the drawings.
From what he could collect, it was about a bear. For some reason, the bear wasn’t loved by anyone. He was sad and lonely all the time. Until one day, one of the birds he liked to observe approached him. The bear was more confident in the company of birds. Maybe it was because he liked them and knew about them. Also, the birds didn't know why he was so disliked. Soon, more birds started to come. Then other bears. Then ants. Then fireflies. Yet, the bear wasn't fully happy. One day he seemed particularly down. He brushed it off and went to the usual reunion spot, but there wasn't a single animal there. He felt even more miserable than before. Out of the blue, all his friends appeared with a huge cake and celebration hats. “Oh, so that’s why”, Kim Dokja thought, “it’s his birthday”. One bird whispered something to the bear’s ears, and he broke down crying. The End.
“Ha… That sucked…”
The pictures were different in this book. While the others had been colorless with blobby lines, this one was painted with soft watercolors. The lines were more stable, more caring. The expressions improved. Actually, had they improved, or did the artist put more thought into this one? The plain style remained the same, so why? Why did the artist like this cliché story more than the others? Why was he so moved by these dumb drawings? Why was Kim Dokja’s vision blurred with tears?
He turned over the book. For once in his entire life, it wasn’t to read the summary or the author’s name. Instead, he looked for the artist.
He dropped the book in shock, and he laughed a wet laugh. He really needed to start asking what he missed in those years, huh.
Kim Dokja doesn't know how much time he spent there, curled over himself in his wheelchair crying in front of the bookshelf. A hundred years, perhaps. Or just half an hour. Or it could have been an eternity. An eternity there. What a pathetic ending.
He woke up to the sound of a chair scratching the floor and the faint smell of tea. He didn't look up.
After a while... “You should have started with that one. I liked it better.”
“I noticed.”
Recently, all of Kim Dokja’s conversations involved a lot of silence, it seems. Didn't he just resolve to ask more things?
“Why?” There. Interpret it however you want.
Yoo Joonghyuk raised his eyebrow at him, but Kim Dokja didn't see it.
“It was a good story. You didn't like it?”
“Only paid attention to the drawings. I didn't read it.”
“You should. And learn something from it.”
Kim Dokja chuckled and finally raised to look at his companion.
It was weird seeing him without his Infinite Dimension Space Coat. Weird, but not bad. He had a domestic and calm vibe now, not constantly in mortal danger. He still had scars on his hands and face and he still wore all black, that chuunibyou. And he had tiny grey streaks in his hair. He reminded Kim Dokja of the Yoo Junghyuk from the 0th round. But better. Because this one was looking directly at him, Kim Dokja could touch him if he moved just an inch. They were together.
Kim Dokja gave him his widest and most shit-eating grin.
“I wasn't referring to that anyways. I was asking why the one about the sunfish. I understand why this one and the math book to some degree, but the Mola Mola? Seriously? Were you feeling nostalgic, Yoo Joongyuk?”
“Shut up.”
Kim Dokja laughed loudly. He thought he saw the faintest smile on Yoo Joonghyuk's face.
"Damn protagonist-halo, so unfair, you are good at everything. How did it happen? Where did this come from?"
Yoo Joonghyuk shrugged. He shrugged. So casually! This is it, Kim Dokja was hallucinating.
"Needed money; gaming was out of the question. Then I saw an ad for the math book. The company had already designed the character and needed someone to draw it. They weren't demanding either. After that, I was recommended for that one," he finished, pointing at the book Kim Dokja held so tightly.
"When does The Lone Mola Mola come in?"
"Shut up. And stop laughing; you sound terrible."
"Give me a break. I just woke up from a coma. It's a miracle I even relearned speaking this soon. Well anyways, the reader, the writer, and the illustrator works well, doesn't it?"
Now that he looked at it more closely, he realized that the bookshelf was packed with lots of books for people under de age of 13. And also pieces of paper that appeared to be sketches or practices. Now he knew what Yoo Joonghyuk was doing in his studio all those hours. He ignored the fantasy books. He wasn't ready to entertain the idea that Yoo Joonghyuk bought those for him or what that meant.
"...Kim Dokja, Han Sooyoung, and Yoo Joonghyuk is better."
"...Yes... That indeed sounds better, huh..." Kim Dokja moved closer and rested his head on Yoo Joonghyuk's arm. It wasn't as comfortable as it seemed. He closed his eyes.
Kim Dokja dreamt. For once in what felt like his entire life, he didn't dream of blood, death, and a warrior. Instead, he dreamt a dumb dream with dumb talking birds and dumb-looking sunfishes painted in beautiful watercolors.
"Ah! Dokja-ahjussi, did you ever find out what is Master's job?"
"I did."
"Seriously?! What is it?"
"Guess."
"Did he pick up gaming again?"
"Shin Yoosung, it was my turn! And of course, he didn't. We would know by now. It would be a big fuss. I'm betting it's got to do with cooking."
"Incorrect."
While Lee Jihye was processing Kim Dokja's answer, Lee Gilyoung spoke up. "Maybe teaching?"
"No way someone would let that bastard in a school", Han Sooyoung crackled.
"Uhm... I'm not sure but... maybe he picked on the military?"
"Not everyone is a military nerd like you, Lee Hyunsung."
"Han Sooyoung, don't be rude."
"Maybe something like martial arts?"
The guessing game went on for almost an hour. Granted, Kim Dokja had spent 15 minutes laughing at the imaginary picture of farmer Yoo Joonghyuk. It would quite suit him, he thought. And it would have lasted way longer if it wasn't for a voice interrupting them
"What are you doing."
"Ah, Yoo Joonghyuk, we were talking about you! How come you never told anyone about your profession?"
"....Children's book illustrator."
...
"OH MY-"
The common room was filled with shouts and questions. An overreaction, if you asked Kim Dokja. But a worthy one because it ended with a list of all the books Yoo Joonghyuk had ever participated in. He had some catching up to do.
"So you ditched my stories for his? I'm completely hearth-broken, I can't believe you. He didn't even write his! Obviously, that makes mine have more sweat and tears on them. And mine are way better, but that's a given."
"You said you weren't writing anymore."
"Well, I am now! Do you know how much money we could make? With my genius abilities and his fame, we would be rich in a week. Selfish men, both of you. Keeping this a secret. What are you, high schoolers?" Han Sooyoung kept grumbling, but Kim Dokja wasn't listening to her anymore.
Yes, life is hard and, yes, recovery is slow. But they were getting better. Slowly, carefully, but they were. They just needed to give a little bit more time. And as Kim Dokja watched fondly his teammates, his companions, his family, he felt confident that they had all the time in the world.