Chapter Text
Upon entering the bookstore, Yoo Joonghyuk makes a beeline straight for the back. Physical copies of one of his favorite novels had been released earlier this week, and the urge to finally hold it in his hands was immeasurable. Unfortunately, his mother wouldn’t drive him here till today, no matter how much he whined about it.
He walks past the New Arrivals section, the customer service desks, the nonfiction books, and, the cafe, from where the sweet smell of chocolate drifts towards him. He hesitates for a second, closing his eyes and running his fingers over the money in his pocket. He then shakes his head and continues on, picking up his pace.
Yoo Joonghyuk turns the last corner…
…and bumps directly into another boy around the same age as him.
Both of them flinch and step backwards, the book the other boy was holding falling to the ground.
“Sorry!” he exclaims, bending down to pick it up.
Yoo Joonghyuk just stares at him.
His short black hair is messy, his eyes are wide, and he watches Yoo Joonghyuk curiously, head titled slightly to one side.
Oh. Fuck. He’s really pretty.
“Uh… I’ll be going now, then?”
Yoo Joonghyuk snaps out of his trance at those words. The other boy smiles and tries to slide past him, but just then, Yoo Joonghyuk catches the title of the book he is holding.
“Is that ORV?” he mutters, more to himself than anything. He cranes his neck to get a better view of the cover.
“Huh?”
“Is that Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint?” he asks again.
The boy brightens. “Yes! The first volume. I grabbed the last copy, thankfully.”
The last copy…
Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t usually think things through. He just acts.
Which is exactly what he does when he reaches over the boy’s head and steals the novel right out of his arms.
“Hey! That’s mine!”
“You haven’t bought it yet, so it’s not technically yours,” Yoo Joonghyuk growls.
“Still!” He attempts to grab the book back, but Yoo Joonghyuk dodges just in time.
They continue to fight over the novel, eventually causing such a commotion that one of the workers at the store come over to see what’s going on.
At one point, the other boy is able to get ahold of the novel, but yanks it out of his hands with such force that it flies across the hallway, slamming against the wall.
Yoo Joonghyuk looks down and sees that his wrist is grasping the other boy’s sleeve, which is rolled up.
A large purple bruise decorates his forearm.
“What’s that?” he asks, raising his head.
The other boy breaks free from his wrist and pulls down his sleeve, averting eye contact. “It’s nothing. I just got hurt while… while playing outside yesterday.”
“Liar.”
“It’s not a lie.”
Yoo Joonghyuk walks closer, disregarding the boy’s words. He touches a hand to the bruise through the clothing.
The boy flinches.
“Was it someone at school who did this?”
“No…”
“Your parents?”
The boy flinches again.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes widen. “What’s your name?”
“Um. Kim Dokja.”
“Dokja. Like, ‘reader’?”
Kim Dokja nods. “What about you? What’s your name?”
Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t respond. Instead, he stares at the other boy for a few seconds, silently thinking about something. Finally, he turns around, walks to the wall, and picks up the fallen book.
When he comes back, Kim Dokja is sitting against a bookshelf, his head buried in his arms.
Yoo Joonghyuk freezes when he hears the faint sound of sobs.
He stands in front of the other boy awkwardly for a few seconds. Then, he holds the book out to him.
Kim Dokja looks up, face tear-streaked. He looks at the book first, then at Yoo Joonghyuk, then back at the book.
“Take it,” Yoo Joonghyuk says, gritting his teeth.
“I can’t,” he sniffles, “I don’t have any money.”
“Then why did you pick it up?”
Kim Dokja stammers, unable to answer the question. “I… I don’t know.”
“What--?”
“I’m sorry.”
Yoo Joonghyuk transfers the novel to his other hand. With his empty arm still reaching out for Kim Dokja, he makes a decision. “I’ll buy it for you. Get up.”
~
Yoo Joonghyuk frantically scribbles something on a piece of paper as the two boys stand outside of the bookstore. Kim Dokja clutches the book protectively, as if afraid the other boy might try and steal it again.
“Here. My phone number,” Yoo Joonghyuk says, handing the piece of paper to Kim Dokja.
“I don’t have my own phone.”
Yoo Joonghyuk takes the paper back. “My address, then.”
“Oh, you live near me.” Kim Dokja smiles.
A car horn honks. “I have to go. That’s my mom,” Yoo Joonghyuk says.
“Okay.”
“See you around?”
“Yeah. Thank you.”
They wave goodbye to each other as Yoo Joonghyuk gets into the car.
“Did you get the book you wanted?” his mother asks.
Yoo Joonghyuk shakes his head. “No. But I got something else.” A friend, he thinks.
As they drive away, it occurs to him that he never told the other boy his name.