The smell of blood hits long before his doorway darkens; never a good sign in general, worse in this neighborhood, worst of all when the figure that eventually staggers in wears a familiar face. Thereâs a clatter of metal on metal as his momentum launches his chair into the cabinets and his hands find Gabrielâs long enough to guide him to the single bed one room over.
Questions rise with the bile in the back of his throat as he take stock of the damage done, reproach barely reigned in before they fall off his tongue like accusations. Hasnât he tried to warn them when they pass through his doors?âall of them, every single one of these reckless fools with something to prove? Thereâs only so much he can do before they start splitting at the seams faster than he can stitch them back together.
âIâm not a surgeon Gabe, I donât think you want me handling that bullet wound,â he says without looking up from the head injury heâs working on. And if thereâs a plea for an end to this madness in those words, he knows better than to hope itâs heeded this time of many. âShould I call an ambulance instead? Or is there someone you usually go to for this kind of thing?â
relief surges over him like a thick salve to a wound at amberâs voice, at a warm hand gripping him as he slips inch by inch into encroaching darkness. itâs warm, this dimness, and the metal and silver of the clinic is cold, and so is the bullet inside of him, shot out of malice, directed by a hand heâd trustedâÂ
hot tears prickle the corners of his eyes as something bitter and black tickles the back of his throat, and his wounds feel like fire razing. only scraps and cuts before, nothing like this. when he stares at amber, he hopes there is remorse in his own limpid gaze and, he hopes, an apology.
âyouâre perfect, amber,â he mumbles, pushing himself into the doctorâs palm, eyes fluttering shut. âyouâre good. youâll fix me.â he takes in a shuddering breath. âi was taken by surprise - not far from here, they werenât supposed to know i was going there.âÂ
His chest rose and fell with each breath he took, his face split into a frantic smile as the ghouls cheered him on. He hadnât done a proper fight in what felt like forever, but this particular night he had to do something, anything to make himself stop feeling this way. How was he feeling? GUILTY, for something he hadnât even done. After each fight he fought, the bitter feeling of guilt was replaced by the excitement fueled by the crowd, soon enough he was screaming with the crowd, cheering when his opponent fell, finally he was acting like himself, that is until he noticed a familiar face in the crowd. He hadnât been expecting him to be there, he hadnât been expecting to see him at all. Azriel had been desperate to see him ever since the ambush, wishing he could make him understand that he hadnât done anything, that he would never make anyone hurt him, but as their eyes finally met he was completely frozen, like one of those Greek statues. After a while, he finally made his way towards him, with each step he took his heart began beating faster and faster. â I- â He began before he glanced around the room, noticing few glances landing in their direction. â Can we go somewhere to talk? â
there is much within him that escapes fathoming, even to himself - such is the nature of half-known things bred to be wild and coveted. among them is the incessant compulsion pulling him taut towards that which he knows he should forget, but heâs never forgotten a kindness, not even when it was eclipsed in the shadow of cruelty. like a string, or a venom, it cinches around his chest as he watches azriel, steals his breath as he watches the ghoul pummels and thrashes, his own scars and remnants of bruises aching with every hit landed on his opponent. Â
what had he done? what had he done wrong? what did he do, to provoke azriel, his dear friend, into sending his subordinates to unto him what azriel is doing to his rival?Â
there is no doubt he is at fault by default - for trusting too readily, for finding beauty and good in things that could turn around and kill. but he would be remiss to say it would keep him from trusting again. from trusting him again.
his scar on his side stings when he catches azrielâs eyes; drat. heâd meant to leave before he was spotted, but now that azriel has taken notice of his presence all the words that had run laps in his mind for weeks suddenly fall silent.
âi - yes.â lips draw a trembling, thin line. itâs difficult to turn away, even if it is only to lead them down a dim, empty corridor. he still doesnât turn back, not even when theyâre alone. âwhere have you been, azriel?â
bruises bloom virulent, violent and in watercolor splotches of indigo, and his breath grows haggard with each passing hour. itâs some masochistic punishment heâs resigned to subject onto himself, this insistence on letting himself suffer for his sins, a penance heâs owned for his unrepentant tenderness and lethality in equal measure. this time though, thereâs no penance - only betrayal.
but he still finds amber in his little clinic, he stumbles in, blood dripping from his lips, from the side of his head. heâs shot somewhere. his side, maybe.
he thinks he might die.
some vague, subconscious part in the periphery of his mind registers approaching footsteps. he breathes a ragged breath. âamber,â he mumbles, âi think iâm hurt.â
itâs the hour in the evening in which the stars that hang about the velvet sky are brightest, when everything seems to possess a faint, rosy film of stardust and eventide charm. the energy in paranoia is that of a slow winding down, of drowsy companionship and the quiet, warm prattle specific to the drunk and addicted and their waning hours. how gabriel could drown in these hours, until he knows nothing but round edges in his vision and warm nerves and the honeyed sweetness of a drink burning its way down his throat.Â
he parts from where he sings, pale ivory robe trailing behind him, the smell of jasmine skin and honeysuckle hair cuts through the sharp scent of sitting alcohol and smoke; heâs, at once, a fixture of paranoia as much as he is an anomaly. perhaps there are still those who do not know him by name, only by fragrance or by sound, or something theyâve known in a dream - he doesnât mind it this way, never ever believing he was meant to be more than an enigma, a creature to know in halves.Â
âthere you are,â he says, and itâs not certain if heâs addressing one patron over another, only that they hope he might at all before daylight comes and wakes them. a faint smile flits about his lips. âyou wonât pass out on me, will you?â
(KIM JINWOO, 28, HE/HIS) Coming up next on Rebel Radio is HOME WITH YOU by FKA TWIGS. This tune goes out to GABRIEL HWANG. Rumor has it they just rolled into town and are fightinâ for VIOLENT DELIGHTS. Theyâre, ETHEREAL, WITTY but also EMOTIONAL, TIMID so watch your backs out there. We wish them the best of luck here in our gilded City of Light. Stay vigilante, stay dirty rock ân rollers and weâll catch you for the next one.
hi there bbs! keira here playing my gabriel hwang, a violent delights member who daylights as a lounge singer at paranoia, singing u sweet little lullabies while you drift into euphoria (or soothes u during bad trips). by night he is a mercenary who feels v v remorseful about killing!! pls love me, and give this a like if u want me to come to u for plots
tw: child neglect, abuse, murder
gabrielâs family had been neither rich nor poor, but they were greedy, and their greed was not born out of desperation, but a desire for excess, a desire to be among the opulent and luminous. so greedy, in fact, that when they found a babe swaddled in ragged cloth upon their doorstep, left by someone who was certainly far more desperate than they, they only thought of ways they could use him to their advantage.
in a tumultuous time in the city of light, the rich were growing more defensive, more paranoid - some of the more paranoid with their own enemies have taken to hiring hitmen, bodyguards, companions for a steep price if quality can be guaranteed. gabrielâs parents, too frail and too unwilling to lay their own lives on the line for their own machinations, resolved to turn their new child, a gentle boy who loved to sing and pick flowers through the cracked pavement, into a weapon.
âyouâre lucky to be alive,â they said, âyou would have died had it not been for us.âÂ
itâs funny, how the most undeserving folk sometimes inspire the most loved and dogged loyalty. gabriel loved his parents, you see. he would have died for them - and this was just short of it. they taught him how to shoot a gun, found him discarded and damaged revolvers and rifles to practice his aim, showed him how to cut up meat and not flinch at blood. for his 18th birthday, they gave him a sniper rifle; heâd asked for a pet bird, a journal, or a soft sweater for the cold.
a jewel that can cut, his parents told his prospects. a flower as lovely as he is lethal; there were some more interested in the former than the latter. eventually, after many kills and after many tearful nights, his reputation began to precede him in some circles. all the money went to his family.
a job went awry. his target had a hunch she was being targeted, and had her own guards sent out to dispatch her assassin. a shot through the side, he woke up in the violent delightâs hq, on the verge of death. it was there he was offered a new lease on life, money and satisfaction for himself in exchange for his talents, and the freedom to sing as much as he pleases.
though he still has plenty of love in his heart for his parents, wherever they are, he made the first choice heâd ever made and decided to leave his old life behind - for the most part. all he knows is how to kill, despite his hatred for it, and works as a mercenary for the violent delights while also singing at PARANOIA, his voice lulling clients through their euphoria.
tldr:Â soft boi who loves to sing but was forced to kill. finds beauty in everything.Â
WANTED CONNECTIONS
SAVIOR - the person who saved him from certain death years ago; must be a violent delights member. the subject of his undying gratitude.
WITNESS - a muse who lost someone they loved (or hated!) to gabriel, be it prior to his joining the violent delights or after
ENEMIES - gabriel truly hates the thought of anyone hating him, especially a stranger, but realizes itâs the nature of the beast of both his profession and his loyalties. your muse holds nothing for vitriol for him; gabriel canât blame them.
REGULARS - regulars at PARANOIA who recognize him from his gigs. regulars who sometimes come just for his singing.
PAST LOVERS - a man who loves easily and generously, who is not without his share of exes, all of whom have stayed in his heart one way or another.
FWBs - something of a hedonist since joining violent delights, gabriel is very affectionate and loves to indulge. he is biromantic bisexual.
