Chapter Text
There was a strange man standing outside of Yoo Joonghyuk’s apartment.
He pulled out his phone, prepared to dial the police, and approached slowly. The man was fumbling in his pockets, a grocery bag from the nearby convenience store hanging awkwardly in the crook of his elbow. He hadn’t noticed he was being watched yet as he cursed softly.
“Hey,” Yoo Joonghyuk said.
The man jumped, startled, and glanced over at him. He tensed, shoulders hunching, but only dipped his head in a slight greeting, and returned to digging through his pockets.
Yoo Joonghyuk frowned. “Hey,” he said again.
The man glanced back at him. He looked like a standard salaryman, thin and rumpled from the day’s work, with pale skin and plain black hair and dark eyes an odd shade that made them look almost grey. “Yes?” he asked, not quite so much nervous as wary. After a moment, he blinked, and glanced at Yoo Joonghyuk’s door. “Oh, uh, I didn’t realise. I’ll get out of your way. Sorry, just, I can’t find my phone.” He took a few steps away, towards the end of the hallway.
“What do you think you’re doing here?” Yoo Joonghyuk threatened.
“What do I- I live here? I’m your neighbour. Have been for…” He squinted, peering into the middle distance. “Maybe five months?”
Yoo Joonghyuk stared. His neighbours were a middle-aged couple who thankfully didn’t know the first thing about games or streaming, and had an adult son who was away on military service for another year. He glanced towards their door.
The man shook his head, exasperated. “No, not them. Your other neighbour.”
Yoo Joonghyuk scowled. “I don’t have any other neighbours.”
“Uh, you do though. You have me.”
“I’ve never seen you before.”
The man’s brow creased. “Well, I guess we haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Kim Dokja.”
“Only child?”
His shoulders drooped and he sighed heavily. “Yes, but… never mind.” He returned to digging through his pockets, before finally retrieving a phone, sighing with relief.
“Don’t ignore me,” Yoo Joonghyuk growled, stepping closer. “And tell me who are you already.”
“What- I told you! Your neighbour, Kim Dokja!” He pointed at the door at the end of the hall, a few steps away. “Here, I’ll show you.” He stalked over to the door, shielded the number pad with his hand as he entered the keycode, jiggled the doorknob a few times, pushed his shoulder against it, then the door swung open.
Yoo Joonghyuk stared. He’d always assumed that door led to a janitor’s closet, or some kind of storage. It didn’t match any of the other doors on the third floor, didn’t have a nameplate, didn’t have a doorbell with a camera and intercom. Did the apartment even have windows? Based on the layout of his apartment, it couldn’t even stretch the whole length of the building – Yoo Joonghyuk’s bedroom was a corner one, with both north and west facing windows. “Is that even big enough to live in?”
Kim Dokja hunched his shoulders. His voice came through stronger now – indignation stripping away his earlier shyness. “Excuse me for not being able to afford to live in a palace? This isn’t a cheap neighbourhood, you know? It’s good enough to sleep in. It doesn’t leak, and it has security, and electricity, and running water.”
That was an alarmingly basic list of living requirements.
Still, his suspicion began to cool. Kim Dokja, it seemed, really was his neighbour, and not some suspicious loitering fan trying to stalk him or break in or install hidden cameras. Yoo Joonghyuk hadn’t had much to do with the building’s landlord past the initial lease signing, but Gong Pildu struck him as the kind of man who would wring every cent of value out his land. On reflection, it wasn’t surprising that he might take any shred of unused space on the building’s floor plans and find some way to get rent out of it.
“Fine. Don’t cause any trouble,” Yoo Joonghyuk finally settled on.
Kim Dokja sputtered. “Excuse me? You’re telling me this now? I’ve been here five months without causing trouble! You didn’t even know I lived here! Ah, forget it,” he grumbled. “I’d say it was nice to meet you, Yoo Joonghyuk, but it wasn’t.”
“I never told you my name.”
Kim Dokja scowled. “You’re famous? Sue me for recognising your stupidly perfect face. You know you’re on billboards, right?”
Yoo Joonghyuk glared at him. ‘Stupidly perfect?’
The other man huffed, stepping across his threshold. “Excuse me, then,” he declared with false politeness so thick as to be sarcastic, and rudely slammed the door shut behind him.
Annoying. Yoo Joonghyuk turned back to his own door. Still, as far as meeting people who recognised him went, especially for a neighbour, Kim Dokja’s reaction wasn’t the worst one.
Besides, they’d somehow gone without meeting for five months. The chances of him coming across Kim Dokja again with any regularity were vanishingly small. There was no more point wasting time thinking about it.
Yoo Joonghyuk saw Kim Dokja again less than a week later.
Yoo Mia wanted cookies. Specifically, rather than the much superior cookies Yoo Joonghyuk had made that weekend, she wanted a store-bought brand that was running some promotion with free phone charms that was apparently all the rage at her school currently, so she could trade with her friends.
Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t really understand the appeal, but she’d brought home a good report card that day, so after dinner he slipped on a plain black hoodie and a facemask, then headed out to go to the nearest convenience store. He didn’t usually bother going to it, because he did all the shopping he needed at the grocery store, but it wasn’t worth the longer walk for a single pack of cookies.
He stepped inside, and the first thing he saw under the harsh, flickering fluorescent lights was Kim Dokja staring at a row of discounted kimbap like they held all the secrets of the universe.
It was in the same aisle as the snacks. Yoo Joonghyuk glared, but shouldered past anyway. Kim Dokja didn’t even react at first beyond a brief irritated glance, which quickly turned into a double take when he saw who was responsible. “Yoo Joonghyuk?”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze darted to the cashier, who luckily hadn’t noticed. “Shut up.”
Kim Dokja followed his line of thought a moment later. “Oh.” For a moment, Yoo Joonghyuk was sure that was to be the end of it. But Kim Dokja glanced between him and the cashier several times, as though debating whether to say anything.
“What is it? Spit it out,” Yoo Joonghyuk ordered, when it looked like the man was about to settle on minding his own business after all.
Kim Dokja flinched at his tone, but seemed to find his courage a moment later. “Just, do you really think they won’t recognise you when you checkout? That’s not exactly much of a disguise.”
“It’s always been enough everywhere else,” Yoo Joonghyuk grumbled. In fact, he was a little surprised Kim Dokja had recognised him with one glance – he usually only got spotted by ardent fans, at which point he generally didn’t return to those stores again. He perused the row of sweets, and finally found the right pack of cookies.
“Right. Sure. Of course. But, just entertain me here, have you looked at the posters behind the counter right now?”
Yoo Joonghyuk looked.
Blazoned on a 2-metre-tall poster behind the counter was his face, staring at the camera, with electric green lightning in the background and cans of energy drink in the foreground. It was repeated again on the smaller placards above the drink fridges, and again in an A4-sized flyer on the shop window.
He didn’t even remember that campaign. That was to say, he remembered doing the product placement on one of his streams, and getting paid for it, and at some point attending a photo session, but he left the particulars to his agent in the management company he paid to handle his PR and accounts. Shit.
He considered his odds. Was there any chance the cashier still wouldn’t recognise him if they spent half their shift staring at his face?
It wasn’t worth it. He moved to put the cookies back, when Kim Dokja caught his hand. It was hard to tell who was more surprised by the gesture.
“Um- I’ll check it out for you. Is it just this? Also, you’re paying for it, just so we’re clear,” he muttered. Before Yoo Joonghyuk could protest, Kim Dokja snatched the cookies and shuffled to the counter with them and his three kimbap.
Yoo Joonghyuk checked his hoodie and mask were secure and moved outside, head down. It was paranoid, maybe, but he’d had enough annoying run ins with fans that he didn’t want to chance it – especially not somewhere so close to home.
Kim Dokja followed him out a moment later, bag on his arm. He fished out the cookies. “2600 won,” he said.
“It was 2200,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, and handed over a 5000 won note. It was the smallest he had.
“Oh was it? My mistake,” Kim Dokja said, opening his wallet and slipping the note in.
Yoo Joonghyuk eyed the rest of the contents of the plastic bag hanging on his neighbour’s elbow. Three kimbap, all from the nearly expired section, discounted to 500 won each. In fact, the cookies were more than what Kim Dokja had spent on his entire dinner.
It had been a nice gesture by his neighbour – in any other situation Yoo Joonghyuk wouldn’t have even asked. But the sheer irritation Kim Dokja inspired in him had him flatly demanding, “Change.”
“You’re real cheap, you know that?” Kim Dokja dropped a few coins into his hand.
Yoo Joonghyuk checked it, and his eyebrow twitched. “Can you not do the math? 2800 won.”
“Not even a service fee? It’s only a few extra won,” he wheedled. This guy – that timid and withdrawn aura suddenly disappeared when a bit of money was involved?
“I didn’t ask you to. You decided on your own. And that’s more than double what it cost in the first place.”
“I don’t have the exact right change-”
Yoo Joonghyuk snatched his wallet from his hand. Kim Dokja squawked, and made to grab it back, but Yoo Joonghyuk was both taller and quicker, twisting to block him with his shoulder. He counted out the coins and snapped the wallet closed again. “2800 won,” he repeated, showing the coins in his hand, and slipping them into his pocket. He shoved the wallet back into Kim Dokja’s chest – the other man stumbling back with the force of it.
“You jerk! Hey! See if I ever do you a favour again!” Kim Dokja complained.
Yoo Joonghyuk ignored him, turning to head home, cookies in hand.
Of course, Yoo Joonghyuk had forgotten – they were neighbours, which meant they were walking home to the same place. Kim Dokja caught back up with him in moments, ambling along next to him, venting his displeasure.
“I wonder what the internet would say if they knew how cheap you are. And how violent. I was going to give you the change anyway, I was just messing with you.” The man nattered on like a con artist. “I could make the money back other ways, anyway, and it would serve you right. How much do you think your fans would pay to know your address- Urk!”
Yoo Joonghyuk had wheeled on him, grabbing his shirt, glowering. Kim Dokja held up his hands in defence, frantically waving. “Kidding, kidding! I’m your neighbour, remember? I don’t want hordes of your crazy fans breaking into our building any more than you do!”
Suspicious, Yoo Joonghyuk relaxed his grip, then a moment later let go. Kim Dokja smoothed his shirt down, and remained blissfully silent for the rest of the walk home.
Annoyingly, after that encounter, Yoo Joonghyuk seemed to run into Kim Dokja everywhere. He’d go to drop off his garbage, and cross paths with his neighbour coming home from work. He’d leave his apartment in the morning to go for a jog, and Kim Dokja would be running to the subway. He went to his grocery store one Sunday, and Kim Dokja was there, dressed in an oversized white t-shirt and loose dark blue cardigan and jeans. It was the first time Yoo Joonghyuk had seen him in anything other than his work clothes. His eyes followed the exposed curve of his collarbone, to the nape of his neck, to his fake polite smile, and he was abruptly irritated.
He loomed over him. “Are you stalking me?” Yoo Joonghyuk demanded.
Kim Dokja backed up against the shelf of instant noodles to match his glare better. “Um, excuse me? This is the grocery store closest to my apartment? Do we really need to do this again?”
“I’ve never seen you here before.”
“How can you see anything? You don’t exactly look around when you’re trying to be incognito. Actually, aren’t you worried about that here? Sorry, but I don’t have enough money to buy your huge basket of groceries. Unless you wanna pay a service fee this time?”
“Unnecessary. I’ve been coming here for a long time.” The staff all seemed to be perilously close to retirement, and even the one or two who recognised him had treated it with the same sort of dull excitement and confusion as someone they recognised from a toothpaste commercial. And avoiding the notice of other customers was easy enough, so long as he didn’t shop in the busiest periods. Yoo Joonghyuk was famous, but he wasn’t a household name.
Kim Dokja had a point though, so he backed up, then glanced at the shabby contents of his neighbour’s basket. Instant noodles, eggs, rice, and nothing else. “What kind of bachelor’s shopping list is this? Are you trying to die of scurvy?”
“Is that any of your business? I don’t exactly have time to cook, you know? And who are you calling a bachelor, huh? That’s awfully presumptuous.”
Yoo Joonghyuk raised an eyebrow. “You’re not?”
Kim Dokja swelled up, squaring his shoulders, and Yoo Joonghyuk was immediately certain that the next words out of his mouth were going to be a lie. “I’ll have you know I-” He caught sight of Yoo Joonghyuk’s dubious expression, and seemed to deflate before his eyes. “Okay, fine, I am, but that’s not any of your business either, you know? So what if I’m alone.” There was an edge to the words that made Yoo Joonghyuk wonder if he’d just stepped on a landmine. Kim Dokja barrelled on regardless, as though he could cover up the awkwardness by burying it with more words. “And it’s rude to just assume. Not all of us are famous pro gamers you know, we can’t all have beautiful girlfriends-”
“I am too,” Yoo Joonghyuk cut in, reflexively, then frowned. He hadn’t intended to share that, but then, they were neighbours, so it wasn’t like Kim Dokja wouldn’t notice eventually.
His neighbour blinked dumbly at him, eyes dark and wide. “Huh?”
Yoo Joonghyuk pointed at his basket. “I’m single too, but you don’t see me shopping like that. Buy some vegetables, fool.”
It broke the odd spell. Kim Dokja huffed, stalked over to the refrigerators, and grabbed a tub of the cheapest kimchi. “There, are you happy? I won’t die of scurvy.”
Yoo Joonghyuk scoffed, and went back to his own shopping. “Idiot bastard.”
“Hey! Who are you calling a bastard? You stupid sunfish!”
“What kind of insult is that?”
“One that suits you. It’s the stupidest animal I can think of. Ah, but it’s much more handsome than you are, so it’s really a compliment.”
“You called my face perfect before.”
Unexpectedly, Kim Dokja flushed. The red ran all the way down his neck and lit up his ears. “Perfectly stupid.” He scowled, and stalked past. “This is my precious day off. I don’t have time to be talking to you.”
“We’re going to the same place,” Yoo Joonghyuk reminded him.
It was too late, though – Kim Dokja had fled to the checkouts, and Yoo Joonghyuk hadn’t finished shopping. By the time he had, and returned to his apartment, the door at the end of the hall was already firmly shut.
That was what he’d wanted in the first place, he told himself. But he was still irrationally bothered.
Kim Dokja was annoying.