Kim Dokja reaches his hand out past the crumbling mental wall that sets him apart, blood dribbling from his nose as he whispers. His arm is thin and smaller than he remembered. His hand is too, but it is also covered in bandages and his fingernails are split and bleeding.
"I'm sorry."
He reaches for his friends, the ones he's built up and protected with his life, with his bloody hands. Hands that have no right to reach out to such good and righteous people. They stand in a vast white plane and they have no faces. They stand there, clustered together and just looking in his direction.
"I'm sorry."
He pleads for forgiveness he doesn't expect to get, something his little family gives him in spades. He looks to his companion, his protagonist.
"This may be me at my best."
He curls his outreaching arm back towards himself, watching the wall build back up between himself and the characters he adores. There was nothing else he could do.
o0o
It was devotion. Devotion so deep Kim Dokja had no idea what to do with it. Or how to deal will having it. It made him feel a certain way. A feeling that builds up in his chest, pressing out on his ribs and bubbling up in his throat. It makes his eyes burn with the intent to water. It sends his head spinning. He is not worth this kind of devotion. He has done nothing of the sort do get it. He's just a reader. No someone who is supposed to be in this position in the first place.
He looks upon Jung Heewon and quite nearly weeps. There is nothing he can do but stand there and wait. Wait for her to understand he's not worth it. Make her see that she's chosen the wrong person. Wait for her to change her mind and pick someone else. He didn't want this. This raw feeling of inadequacy, and something else he can't quite place. He doesn't want to feel the sting of rejection when Heewon find him not worthy. When he proves he isn't worth the effort.
Instead of crying, or screaming, or just down right breaking down, he stands there. He watches. He looks upon her. He does what he's always done. He reads it again.
And then he's smiling, something placid that he just barely scrapes together. Dokja puts forth his hand and smiles and waits. That's all he can do. Wait.
o0o
It's standing here, in these dark tunnels and a kid staring at him with hopeful eyes, that he realizes just how much he's fucked up. Because even now with everything that has happened and everything he has done, Gilyoung still looks at him with eyes glittered in hope.
Hope.
A kind of hope that comes from one child of abuse that sees an adult that survived the same conditions and feels that there will be a better time. Kim Dokja's own survival has given this poor little kid some semblance of hope. And it makes a seething feeling crawl underneath his skin. It's not Gilyoung that stands before him anymore. This kid is thinner, more gaunt, with black hair and black eyes. It's a familiar sight, one that leaves Dokja's eyes cold and dark with loathing.
He looks away when the moment settles back into what it actually is. There is a kid standing in front of him that needs reassurance. Reassurances he doesn't exactly have. Lying to this boy will probably be the nicest thing he's ever done in his life.
It still feels like ash on his tongue.
o0o
The scene of Jihye in the classroom overlaps with something from his memories, grainy and frayed at the edges. Instead of Lee Jihye, there stands a younger Kim Dokja looking out of an open classroom window. Only his back is visible, a ragged school brown school uniform and mussed up hair. Outside has the dwindling light of the setting sun. Abruptly, there is nothing but a torn up looking backpack sitting in a neat classroom. Jihye fades back into view on the screen, her dead eyes looking right at whatever camera the dokkaebi had on her. The classroom is no longer empty. The older Kim Dokja looks away and ignores the implications.
o0o
[You have obtained 'King of No Killing']
'Hell yeah, now I can live out my dream as many times as I want.' Kim Dokja grinned, blood smeared on his teeth and a rabid look in his eyes. The waves of fire from the dragon's attack heads his way, leaving no time for him to dodge past it.
'Dying'
Large swaths of pain overtakes his nerves. He is sweating and burning and it hurt so much- There are tears brought to his eyes that immediately boil off of his face. The grin that stays on his face exposes the inside of his mouth to the flames, his flesh boiling up and peel away from his bones. He can feel the heat so deeply that he almost gives into the idea of letting the pressure out by screaming.
['The Fourth Wall' activates.]
But he can't. His companions are still around and he has to be strong for them. It seems like forever that the moment lasts. He can hear yelling, voices that sound near to screaming themselves. The pain abruptly stops and it kind of feels like he's floating.
[You have died]
No wonder.
o0o
'I'll do whatever you want. Whatever. Just... please. Please don't make me do this' It's difficult looking Yoo Joonghyuk in his eyes as he begs through his thoughts. There's blood running down his face from a cut near his hairline. Kim Dokja could swear there were tears as well. He looked as handsome as ever, even beat up and bruised like this.This is the end. Yoo Joonghyuk." Dokja calls softly into the crumbling ruins, wings splayed out and curling horns wrapped around his head. "Kill me, Joonghyuk-ah."
'I will die in your arms as many times as it takes for you to realize that I'm not worth saving'
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