mememe

kwon neul, first yr.

[800dbdb]

yooo day here and this is kwon neul, your local chess prodigy (if you ask him though, reports of his “genius” is vastly overrated ((b/c his bitch baby ass keeps losing out on first place in tourneys and pitching a fit)), he’s 19 and currently a [checks palm] y1 child dev major (or w/e he’s just killing time), and living at the blue house. 

( profile, bio )

anw i’m blahblah with intros but i need to flesh out his personality so here we go.

quick tldr if you’re too lazy to read bio

parents had a shotgun wedding (mom was just some early 20s kid who managed to bag this well off late 20s to early 30s man) > blablah birth of neul and mom having a tough time adjusting with her in-laws b/c they’re snooty rich people yadadada > essentially she placed all her hopes and dreams on neul to Be Something so she can rub it in everybody’s faces > after a couple years of piano/cello/tennis/wtv lessons they finally settle on Chess > neul goes on to ride that dream onto being a national player blahblah > ff to mom being so set on him getting into yonsei she told everybody and considered nothing else so when he didn’t get in he had to settle for hansung n she’s somewhere hiding her face in shame idk > thats it ..,

anyway neul:

quite? sociable? but also comes off as bit prickly depending on the Vibes yk

has a temper, cant stand losing or being bested - idk would rather eat a denim jacket than admit losing in just about anything

mama’s boy... mommy issues... you name it! 

really a jack of all trades but master of none (minus chess) b/c of all the extracurriculars his mom had him take on when he was younger. so can he play you something on the piano? yeah! is it the same five songs? yeah.

essentially this is the first time he’ll be out and about away from home (mom) and making his own decisions so i wanna say he’s kinda acting out in a i’ll-live-on-ddeokbokki-and-malatang-for-a-week-who-cares way not in a euphoria kinda way or w/e 

more so he’s just doing whatever his whims call for (but still toeing the line as a good boy b/c he was raised as one lbr)

academically he does decent enough but doesn’t have much passion for it as his career’s p much already set in stone — meaning he really honestly dgaf about the early child dev of any child (so sorry) ((but what did you expect he’s still a kid himself)) (((the closest he’s ever come to interacting with a child is when hes paid to be a chess tutor))) 

only in yongmaru b/c he knows his mom would like it (generally a selfish kid who doesn’t do that sorta thing lmao like mother like son!!) which means he’s a) not much of a go-getter in terms of stepping up within the club b) tho will do his personal best he will also be complaining the whole way through

re: blue house — very good roommate, picks up after himself in shared spaces, his own room is kinda messy and still unpacked (effort), the assortment of popsicles in the fridge is his!!

lemme just say now he don’t care for the unsolicited comments on how mint chocolate tastes like toothpaste and blahblahblah let him eat what he wants damn

plots

check back

[orosii]

sore point

@800dbdb

to a boy whose forte is a strategic mind (only really applicable to games, specifically chess—) and nothing really else, he finds it extremely difficult to approach any sort of irritation that isn’t his own. even when it is his own, they’re almost always temperate, much like everything else about him. but when it’s anyone else’s, notably neul’s—he can’t help but to be ill at ease.

especially when that source of irritation is none other than himself.

today’s one of those days, fated to fall yet again under neul’s spleen. minha makes sure not to step on the worn-out, tawny-red concrete tiles in the morning. his brain hatches out these improv superstitions when prompted (he can’t quite grasp the pattern himself,) and the frequency of it multiplies on the more important days. the taxi driver is whist and doesn’t pry information out of him and neul for his makeshift entertainment. while minha appreciates it, he makes sure to have him double check the address stamped on the screen. songpa-gu, baekje gobunro 7 gil—yes, the building next to that one. he remains quiet for the remainder of the ride.

—

it’s almost routine, the way neul is quick to dart back to his room as soon as they get back home. minha carefully roves over the pieces of clothing lying around the living room, then around some empty water bottles and an abandoned textbook (’biomechanical basis of human movement,’) trophy in one hand and messenger bag in another. 

“neul,” he calls out tacitly, promptly in front of his friend’s door upon stashing away his stuff in his room. “are you hungry? we can go to the jjampong place you’ve been talking about for dinner,” he pauses for a second, scratching his head in fidgets before slow-processing his words.

“—or i can bring it back for you, whatever you want.”

he stands in a sweltry silence, hoping to hear some sort of response. 

[800dbdb]

if possible, he'd like to travel back in time and punt grandfather for ever speaking on his supposed ‘talent’. neul could’ve made do without the mountain of expectations, could’ve endured an easier adolescence without mom breathing down his neck, could’ve done without having perfect song minha brought up whenever the topic of ratings made its way to the dinner table.

it didn’t matter that they grew up together, that their families have known each other since before their generation, that it’s more or less a one-sided inferiority complex at play than anything. she had her sights set on proving her worth—and there was no better way to do it than through her only son.

and here’s where sins of the father applies. dad, who fell victim (victim? is it “falling victim” when it’s mutually assured destruction driven by lust?) to mom’s charms, mom’s lies. and son, who grows under the weight of her expectations and aspirations and frustrations. son, who spends majority of childhood pushing the impossible boulder up the hill (does aunt’s distaste not carry over to him? do his cousins not view him with the same gaze?)—only for it to fall short; for it to trip over the hitch that is song minha and topple down to the foot of the hill.

                                                                                                                             motherfucker. 

today's no different. if you’re new here, i’ll recap: it always starts the same. the same slow trek upwards, the same anticlimactic outcome of the first handful of matches (because though kwon neul is not the best—he’s still better than the vast majority), the same nerve-racking thumb gnawing suspense of the final five, the same final two—minha’s usual passive poker face jeers at him from across the board—and, much like usual, he loses sight of the game plan in his haste, and forfeits the trophy.

which brings us to now. 

now, it’s mom’s calls going unanswered. now, it’s the second place trophy (cash prize aside) kicked under his desk. now, it’s the mild (not really) fit on his bed. now, like clockwork, it’s the knock on his door and his best friend’s voice reverberating through his room. of course. of course he’s here.

minha, much like mom, is relentless when it comes to bothering him. 

“i’m not going out.” he snaps back, head lifting with the next passing beat and lips twisting into a thin frown. there’s a tug of guilt here, there always is. it’s not his fault that the outcome is always the same. and minha is almost always lingering around him post matches like an apologetic puppy; forcing an odd sort of guilt and vexation out of him—as it feels almost too much like pity sometimes.

still, neul isn’t too inclined to be particularly cordial back; wasting no time to rise to his feet and stop before the door, reaching out to rap his fist sharply on the thin wood—roughly around where minha’s head would be (as if visualizing himself doing the actual deed). if only. 

“so, bring it back here.”

[800dbdb]

quick update: neul’s fc is now to sunoo (enhypen) + under the cut for tracker (4myeyesonly)

reply to: @orosii, @winneing, @xmeiuns, @solsprint

dms: help me i’m drowning

[ashstfu]

*lying* why would i lie