kneel

she told me you’ll never be in love

[namshinhrs]

PINK WALK.

seoyulhrs​:

“is that true, or would you prefer i spin up some stories for you?” she queries, just drunk enough to grin as she says it, leans her head against his shoulder for a moment, before she straightens herself up again, sighs. “maybe i need another drink to be fascinating.” it’s out of character for her; or at least, for her with him. she half expects him to wander away, disappointed. 

he doesn’t have much of a sense of taste — his tongue growing bored of most discovered flavors as the years went by, but he has to admit that he loves the sweet little sparkle that appeared in seoyul’s chocolate brown eyes. her genius mind which constructed beautifully elaborate stories and her doe eyes, which made her look almost starstruck whenever shinwoo was present (which is to be expected, but so few returned), made her even more attractive. they pulled him towards her, made him want to spend just a few more seconds around her.

but as self-revolving as he is, shinwoo is, to an extent, perceptive. this is how he’s able to pinpoint weaknesses, elevate and attack them with it until he’s satisfied with the messy results he helped cultivate. though he’s ironically blind to any sort of positive attention others give him, so he’s never understood the true meaning in the way a teenage seoyul would stare at a teenage shinwoo. and he’s even more lost when seoyul no longer holds such passion when she looks at him. such a shame that spark is not as present as it was before. he wonders when such a precious treasure faded – it is one of the many things he likes about the girl.

but he passes that off as her being tired. it is quite late after all, and there is a faint scent of liquor lingering in her sweetness.

if shinwoo was anyone else, he would have the decency to ask why she’s not acting like herself – but he’s not. instead, his hand goes up to her hair again and fiddles around with it until she parts from his shoulder. she sighed, but not in that light and airy way she usually does, so he looks down at her with a hint of intrigue. but he doesn’t ask why, just says, “let’s not sell yourself short now, you’re always fascinating,” with a smile that intends to be reassuring but comes off as smug – a default setting of his. “i have all the time in the world to listen to you, and my doors are always open for you.”

he’s slightly disappointed that she doesn’t give him what he wants right away, but reasons with himself that she’s only doing this because she’s preparing for an even bigger and more entertaining tale to share. besides, at least seoyul’s attention brought his mood up (though it wasn’t as grand of a spike as it used to be, but he’ll blame that on kitaek, knowing neither shinwoo nor seoyul’s the problem).

“careful out here, seoyul, who knows what could be sneaking around in the dark.” he strokes her chin like he would to a stray cat before he walks off.

[namshinhrs]

ASYMMETRY

hrsjungmin​:

“i know this goes without saying, but, you can tell me anything.” there’s a passing acknowledgement in their stares, then jungmin turns his attention to the littered beer cans and swipes his hand to move them away. he won’t probe if that’s what shinwoo wants, but the invitation is there at least. “you got any exciting housewarming plans for this place? i love a good party, and it’s kinda sad to drink alone, no offence,” he laughs.

eyebrows raise curiously as jungmin responds, wondering if his friend was truly doing alright as he claims.

for one thing, shinwoo’s absence most definitely drained the color of this already monochromatic town — even the slightest pop of beige blending in with the gray that surrounds them. secondly, shinwoo thinks jungmin’s affected by his sister’s — murder? disappearance? god, he hopes it’s the latter, for his friend’s sake — more than he lets on. shinwoo would too, if the same thing happened to him. finally, he had guarded jungmin’s secret, promised to seal it deep within and to never reveal it to another soul; granted him protection from suspicious eyes and nosy questions with shinwoo’s ironclad position in ilmyo.

but jungmin’s an adult capable of coming to his own defense, so maybe shinwoo’s the one who’s coddling him. hilarious. who would have thought nam shinwoo is a clinger?

he chews on his snack slowly and he looks at jungmin through unstyled bangs. he shrugs again and follows it right after with soft, assuring laughter to round out the edge of brushing his friend off. no matter how close they are, and no matter how much they share, shinwoo’s never been one to divulge in his own vulnerability. never cries, and rarely bares his heart without a catch. he’s selective in what he chooses to share, and these mostly include anger and mischief. or it’s simply nothing at all. and these are things he’d rather not show to jungmin…even though he has seen it all.

“oh i really don’t want to hear that from you, mr. tall, dark and handsome.” he flicks the remnants of salt off his fingers. “don’t you practically live in that dingy bar run by that stalker kid, or whatever?” he stretches out on the bare, wooden floor, and groans like an old man as he does it to sarcastically prove his newfound maturity. “and you already know being with me’s a much better time than a party,” he says. it’s a joke, the way he speaks confidently — with jungmin, that is; it wouldn’t be around anyone else. he dials it down at least a little when they’re together.

“or do you want me to throw one?” he asks, even though shinwoo would throw one in a heartbeat if jungmin simply asks for it. there’s no doubt about it. “you know it won’t be hard. i’m sure these people are dying for some action that their golden god will happily provide.”

[namshinhrs]

GO HARD OR GO HOME

hrssanha​:

people like to think many things about yoo sanha; including that he can’t handle his liquor all too well. that’s where they are wrong. he’s near emptied the flask before he realises it. quickly downs the last drops of it too. bliss. again, he smiles; finally, kitaek’s words have been soaked up by the alcohol. his existence is irrelevant, his words empty. it’s time to enjoy now. ‘thanks,’ he speaks again, no more sincere than he had done the first time. he simply pushes the flask back into the younger’s hands; curiously raises an eyebrow at him. ‘so why are you not using them? don’t you want to have some fun?’ there is an excited twinkle in his eyes. childlike as much as it is daring. ‘c’mon. i remember you being more fun than this.’

shinwoo shakes the flask lightly to see if sanha has left at least a sip for him. besides the few droplets he feels hitting the sides of the metal, sanha did not. it wasn’t like this was the only kind of booze he had. and if he really wanted a drink, he would have already walked towards the bonfire and get trashed like everyone else, or drive off to drink in the comforts of his home.

but who would when sanha looks like he’s calmed down — at least a little bit. even though he looks like such a lightweight, shinwoo knows he’s not. sanha was, after all, a frequent visitor of his parties. but it’s so easy to pass him off as one since sanha’s always so stiff — he supposed that has to do with the years of self-discipline he went through to keep such a perfect image. shinwoo shakes the flask once more, his brows coiling slightly in confusion. maybe the concoction would hit sanha at a later time? or maybe not — maybe the alcohol has effected sanha, and he’s just putting on a face. after all, the guy is saying some dangerous words.

owing something to shinwoo isn’t anything to take lightly — sanha should know this already, but maybe his slip up signifies that he’s already opened up the doors of inebriation. so shinwoo doesn’t complain when sanha returns an empty flask, he only folds the other’s words into his mind with a wretched smile that stretches across his face. though, this doesn’t last long.

“oh please,” he emits an irritated yet breathy laugh, like he can’t believe what yoo sanha dares to say. “i’m not an idiot. i can’t just use these out in the open.” he shoves the flask back into his pocket and rests an elbow on the guy’s shoulder — not as comfortable as he had initially thought, possibly because of their similar heights. “and what’s so great about having fun alone?”

shinwoo does not reflect the same childish sparkle that shows up in sanha’s eyes. shinwoo’s is challenging, like he’s almost threatened by someone thinking he isn’t ‘fun.’

“isn’t it a common courtesy to smoke with company?” he locks onto sanha’s eyes, beckoning him — challenging him — to join.

[namshinhrs]

shoot out.

so here’s the thing—

nam shinwoo is not a nature person. he does not care for the outdoors; hates how mosquitoes seem to be so taken by him; doesn’t appreciate how his body becomes so sore whenever he sleeps in a tent. jungmin knows this too, so it just makes sense when he doesn’t even invite shinwoo to spend at least a day in the forest. nothing, zip, nada, radio silence on jungmin’s end. shinwoo would have said no anyways, even if jungmin did beg him to — not that he would.

but he would have appreciated the thought of being asked this — to sleep in a dingy tent, and to spend time together even though shinwoo knows he’d be complaining about how another bug bit his leg the entire time. — especially if he knew that he would be such an easily replaceable person.

he knows his friend is his own person, capable of making his own decisions. he doesn’t need shinwoo’s permission to hang out with other people. if he wanted to tell him that he was taking someone else, he would have been fine. really, it doesn’t bother him. shinwoo’s not a desperate housewife, and jungmin’s smart enough to know he shouldn’t make shinwoo too angry.

but shinwoo’s still there hiding behind a tree, waiting for his prey of the night to step foot inside his trap. the prey in question one of his favorites — not a favorite person. a favorite toy, perhaps? yeah, that could’ve been the best word to describe kim jooyoung. and when shinwoo hears the rustle of grass and the snapping of twigs, he strikes by grabbing onto his shirt. he pulls him back and presses his forearm into the guy’s throat.

“hey little darling—“ shinwoo’s sure a similar situation has happened before, with him ambushing jooyoung in a strange location and shinwoo almost choking him, but the memory’s hazy. shinwoo is never one to remember irrelevant details. “were you lonely without me?”

@hrsjooyoung

[namshinhrs]

double take.

hrsyeoreum​:

“we don’t need to do this,” she repeats. “this thing. we’re not compatible, never will be.” yeoreum gestures in between the two of them. “if you’re so scared of your mother’s opinion,” and at this she adds a hint of mockery, as if she can’t believe a man this old woul still obey his mother’s every command. that’s always expected of daughters, never of sons. “i can tell her that i’m the problem. i just lost my best friend, after all,” something that everyone seems to forget. “i’m not in the right state of mind for this. and i’m certainly not in the right state of mind for you to treat me like you are right now.” she looks at his arms around her. 

for the most part, shinwoo wouldn’t be bothered by what yeoreum’s saying because all the words she says would slip by him much like everyone else’s. she’s not important; never was. she’s only someone that mother decided she liked; it’ll only last a few weeks. he’ll scare her away eventually, just like he’s done with the rest of them. but she’s proving to be more difficult than he thought. she stands her ground, in her own way — cautiously.

he huffs, smile dropping.

he’s heard from small whispers that jung yeoreum isn’t as nice as she appears to be — she’s smarter and sinister than she lets on; something shinwoo’s never truly believed. he only believes in what he wants to, and he believes jung yeoreum is unassuming. maybe he was wrong about her the entire time, but that doesn’t mean that new side of her makes him like her. it’s just slightly entertaining.

but not now. not when the truth is exactly what yeoreum dares to say out loud: she’s not with him — none of them were. they were forced to.

and when he’s ready to attack, yeoreum goes back to her defenses. he takes in how she makes her eyes shake, like she’s magically regained her senses to fear him. while this look would excite him on any other day, he’s not an idiot; she’s managed to make a crack on her good girl mask by landing a small slap to his pride…and continues hitting the target.

and so what if she did lose a friend? shinwoo, he’s…

what did he lose? a friend? a family? a lover? he’s none of that to her. she’s just someone he found pleasant; liked her more than his family but slightly less than himself. maybe more? he doesn’t know. and he’s sure to her, he was just someone who was there at the moment. he doesn’t like to dwell on ‘what ifs,’ and he certainly doesn’t like it when his mind goes on long tangents like these.

he didn’t lose anyone, so just who is he to be so down in a memorial for someone who was essentially nothing to her? he should be celebrating like the rest of the folks in the distance, without a care in the world, preparing to drink their asses off.

he takes his arms away and brushes her off like a shrug, to show her none of this bothers him — not yeoreum’s desire to leave, her defiance, or the fact that he was probably deemed as nothing by someone who slightly mattered to him. “you know what, you’re right, and i’m such a terrible person for not realizing it.” he mimics her mocking voice with his own, playfully tapping on the top of her nose before it returns to rest on one of her shoulders again. “i should be more wary of how i treat you and your recent tragedy,” hopefully this time, his hand weighs her down, “just like how you should be careful of how you speak to me.”

[namshinhrs]

primadonna. 

kaeunhrs​:

”how’s your wonder mother by the way? i miss her quite a lot. i’ve been meaning to send her a little thank you note for everything that she does. she’s truly an extraordinary woman,” and just like that, kaeun knows where it hurts the most.

there’s a desire within him – it’s not buried deep; it’s shallow, touching the edge and begging to crawl out of his skin – that wants to drive off as soon as kaeun opens the door. he knows the action would possibly wreck his car, but who can care about the potential damage it would cause to his car when heo kaeun is being her insufferable little self – purposely walking slowly. but he can’t run off – even though he wants to – because it’s a personal request from his family, and shinwoo can’t say no to his family.

as soon as she steps in his car, shinwoo resists the urge to kick her out; holds his tongue from hissing at her; tightens his grip on the steering wheel to prevent himself from grabbing a spray bottle and chase her out with it. (it wouldn’t work anyway, since he didn’t have a spray bottle conveniently stashed in his car.) he settles in his seat, his back going as deep as he could. he’s never felt so small in his life, but combats the growing sense of impotence by turning towards kaeun.

“fuck off, princess,” he gets his own sunglasses – unfortunately not gucci – and flicks them over his eyes as soon as kaeun tucks hers in her hair. “i look great in pink.” there’s not a beat leftover when he adds that, “i look great in everything.” he doesn’t start driving again as soon as kaeun settles in, but the girl keeps talking. his shades may obscure the view of her face – which is awfully nice – but it unfortunately does not have the ability to plug his ears.

he doesn’t spare her a look, since he knows she only wants his head to be full of thoughts of her. and he regrettably knows heo kaeun too well to know that she welcomed almost anything that got you thinking about her – even getting her car set on fire.

his knee jerking slightly at the mention of his mother. “of course she’s an extraordinary woman,” he says, brushing off her attempt at crawling even deeper into his skin, “she had me.” he presses down on the gas pedal and takes off quickly before he could do anything else. he remembers the special care his mother has always given to kaeun – the little trinkets, get-well cards and baskets, even calls to shinwoo asking things such as, what would kaeun like? how the hell is he supposed to know?

“she’s the mayor’s wife,” he says as a smirk crawls his way up to his face, “so she needs little charity cases now and then to be entertained.” the car rolls slowly to a stop sign, and that’s when shinwoo decides to finally take a look at kaeun. he slides his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose, so his eyes can get a clear view of kaeun – from her begrudgingly attractive face (though, shinwoo is much better looking) to the mess she’d probably refer to as ‘shoes.’

he pouts mockingly. “and darling, you need all the help you can get.”

[namshinhrs]

200%

hrskitaek​:

“it’s fucking ironic, right? threatening to murder me and calling me the one most likely to murder all in the same fifteen minutes.” his voice is stilted and dry, some of the words stick like sandpaper to the back of his throat. kitaek doesn’t sound intimidating, but he does manage to force it all out. 

shinwoo wonders if kitaek’s purposely trying to wind him up, trying to get shinwoo to hit him in a public space, trying to get the public — or the small, select few in the bar — to crumble whatever positive image they had of shinwoo. he’s sure most of the town — at least their generation of the town — already knows he’s not a superficially upright man like robin. shinwoo’s knows they need him to spin their boring little lives with his spectacular flair for color. and even if they did want to expose whatever dirty deed he’s involved in, they won’t. they fear him; his status, his lineage, and his power to destroy what little worth they think they hold by a simple snap of his fingers.

he scoffs. let it be known that shinwoo is not a violent person — rather, he prefers to use the art of persuasion, brought to him by his politically-involved forefathers, to get out of tricky situations. (or slap a few bills on someone’s face.) but that probably isn’t very convincing with shinwoo’s grip tightening on kitaek’s shirt, his fist tightening, readying to fire. but he at least suppresses the growing urge to beat the guy.

for now — for whatever reason — shinwoo listens to kitaek, or rather, let’s him speak — to get whatever sense of entitlement out of his little system. shinwoo wonders which would be the best punishment for this smart-mouthed bartender — a simple punch in the face? humiliating smacks on the face? or should he just slam him onto the bar counter? but there is no need to think so long and hard over such a simple decision — not when kitaek’s cheek just asks for a hit; not when his eyes are just begging to be bruised.

then shinwoo finally does it. he’s not a fucking genius, right? only a guy who simply thinks with a head that’s too hot and wound up. so there’s a deep sense of satisfaction when his fist meets kitaek’s face.

“isn’t it better, kitaek,” shinwoo spits out his name, dropping the surname he stubbornly sticks onto his name to show a mocking extension of their friendship, “that a father cares about his own son to fix his fuck ups than your parents who didn’t even have the patience to deal with you? who abandoned you because they couldn’t stand you?”

shinwoo could have stopped there, but he can’t just leave kitaek hanging – not when shinwoo has so much more to say to him; the urge to destroy still lingering in his palate.

“and so what if it is ironic? you’re self-aware enough to know that this town would kiss the ground i walk on if i got rid of you. even kim minseok would be dancing with joy if your clingy, dead weight ass disappeared.” shinwoo’s not much of an artist, but he looks down at the mess he’s made of ahn kitaek. he smiles, face mixed with sadistic childlike wonder and pride. “don’t you know that you’re bringing him down all the time? strange how you have that camera around you all the time but can’t see the real picture.”

[namshinhrs]

ASYMMETRY

hrsjungmin​:

jungmin sighs, sitting back up again before grabbing a bag of chips. “i’m not gonna lie, i didn’t think you’d be this eager about coming back,” he eyes shinwoo’s reaction as he pops it open. “i thought seoul was the end-all.”

ft. nam shinwoo

shinwoo feels big here, like he’s a king; a god amongst mere mortals. the view in front of him of their little town, littered with small houses and stores within the unending forest, encourages this thought. he’s above all of them.

well, almost all of them.

he looks back to jungmin with a raised brow. “come on, man,” he says with a grin – half amused yet partly offended by his friend’s reaction to this place. shinwoo thought jungmin’s one of the few who knows him like the back of his hand. “by now you should always expect the unexpected from me.” with his foot, he nudges at a wall as he gets closer to his friend. “and what can i say? i’m a changed man now,” not really, he’s only gotten taller and a slight change in his features, but his overall character? still the same. “mature, even.” he isn’t even that, either.

shinwoo laughs quietly as a response, knowing jungmin of all people would never let him down. his hand goes for his friend’s hair and ruffles it since he can’t do that at any other moment besides now. it’s an odd sensation, but shinwoo likes odd, and that he has the privilege of seeing the top of head. he’s sure no other person in town can or has besides his family when he was a child of course, and shinwoo loves being one of the exclusive few.

there’s a slight jerk in his hand as soon as the mention of seoul, but shinwoo plays it off as smoothly as he can manage by flattening jungmin’s now messy hair with a pat. “well…” he shrugs with an easy smile, hands stuffed inside the pockets of a pair of sweatpants he rarely wears. “shit happens.” he crouches down and stares at the open bag of potato chips. he takes one out quickly, like he’s taking something he’s not supposed to. he stares at it – his favorite.

“and how can i leave you in this shithole to suffer all by yourself?” he takes a bite.

[baek1nho]

[namshinhrs]

pink walk.

seoyulhrs​:

despite herself, despite her better judgement and her own best interests, she grins at him anyway. takes his wrist and squeezes, lets her thumb drag against the point of his pulse as his fingers play into the curls of her hair. “now what would yeoreum think.” she points out, brows arching slightly, half curious to see if that grin might slip and falter. there’s a something brewing in the back of her head, a consideration of minseok and yeoreum, thoughts and pieces that are falling slowly into place. theories to be tested. “fine, you don’t want to talk about that. you’re not in the mood. so what do you want to talk about? how very sad you are at this very fine vigil? how distraught and devastated? about the ghosts in the trees or the omen i saw this afternoon?” 

he wants stories, so she’ll give them. seoyul is an accommodating creature, eager enough to spin a yarn for a listener, happy enough to sacrifice her dignity for a little attention. (pathetic.)

there's a growl he emits. it's not out of anger caused by seoyul defying him or talking back to him — he doesn't care about that; he would, if it was anyone else, though. it's out of frustration due to her strange fixation on kitaek — why? isn't shinwoo enough for her? — but he doesn't press on any longer, even though he wants to. seoyul can hold her own, and if anything ever happens, he'll just have to stick around longer — something that he's not entirely against.

“yeah, yeah,” he says dismissively with a click of his tongue. he still plays around with her hair and observes the lock nonchalantly. his focus on drowning out her stance withholds the desire to tell her to get her head out of the clouds for once in her life. he's usually not one to hold his tongue, but he'd rather not get so testy in front of seoyul. the two aren't that chummy.

“i don't want to start anything, seoyul—” since when did shinwoo not want to start anything? “just watch out for him,” he adds like an offhanded comment, like he's not entirely too concerned for her. but that's just how he is: unconcerned about everything besides himself, and even the concern for himself is conditional.

but even his casual manner has its limits — his grip tightens for a split second as soon as he hears yeoreum's name. who cares about how she'd feel? she left him — there's nothing left to be said; he doesn't even care to joke about how she's playing hard to get by leaving him by himself.

he breaks the stare on seoyul's hair, gaze moving to the odd pressure she puts on his wrist and then at her face to give her a look — not exactly threatening; bordering on it, possibly. there’s a smile on her features, something he’s well acquainted with; the look he adores on her because it means that she’s ready to entertain. so he returns her smile. besides, he can never will himself to get mad at her of all people.

now we’re talking.

“of course i’m sad at this vigil,” his words do not follow his tone, all mocking and full of spirit. “that’s why i found you.” he finally frees himself from the tangles of her hair. “don’t we always find each other when we’re down in the dumps?”

he tilts his head. “you know i’m always interested in anything you have to say,” his hand is now on her face, tracing the softness of her skin with the pad of his thumb. “for you, precious girl, i’m all ears.” he finishes off by giving her a light pinch on her cheek, and a smile grows wider at the pleasant plumpness of it.

[namshinhrs]

primadonna.

he purposely takes his time to get there, dreading the minute she steps in the car. he hoped that the last time he would see her would have been high school, but he should’ve figured that being in such a small town like this forced you to see people you don’t want to see.

and it isn’t like he wants to see her — he doesn’t even want to keep her safe, glad her car was set on fire — but mayor nam can’t trust the ilmyo police too much, and shinwoo’s sure his father can’t have any more deaths and or missing case files piling up during his time in office.

shinwoo can’t have that either. it’ll completely ruin any chance he has of being the next mayor.

so he’s told to tread carefully, to be aware of his surroundings, and most importantly, keep her happy. the last part is mostly an order from his mother, who just adores heo kaeun too much. he thought her interest had now moved onto jung yeoreum. at least she’s easier and less irritating to deal with compared to heo kaeun of all people.

his grip on the steering wheel tightens. initially, he praised the mysterious arsonist for bestowing such a hilarious act of destruction on her car. now, he wants to track them down and give them a good, hard punch in the face for making him cater to heo kaeun’s needs. sure, shinwoo doesn’t have to do anything — it’s in his nature to do the exact opposite of what people tell him to do, but he can never disobey his family. such a filial son, that nam shinwoo.

his car screeches to a stop, and he truly hopes the sudden friction leaves a skid mark on the parking lot. he sees the time – ten minutes later than the promised time. good. she should be done and waiting for him by now. he rolls down the window and honks the horn until he actually sees heo kaeun. it really shouldn’t be hard, considering she is the only person that’s worth looking at in their local gym. 

god, he can’t believe he actually thinks that. it makes him shudder with disgust.

he honks, trying to get her attention; trying to get this day over with. “get in, loser,” he shouts, voice louder than usual, “we’re going shopping.”

@kaeunhrs

[namshinhrs]

turn down for what.

[namshinhrs]

hrsjooyoung‌:

“Get off me!” he manages to break away from his grip, pinching himself between the two others that have stepped forward to block his path. “Take it back!” he screams childishly, slipping an arm between their shoulders to point a finger at shinwoo’s chest. “Take it back right now!” 

and there it is. this is the kind of thing he loves: when someone so insignificant, who deludes himself into thinking that he’s bigger than what he is, comes back down to earth to realizes that he’s absolutely nothing. that he’s weaker than a fruit fly.

shinwoo steps back just as easily as he had gotten close to him. he doesn’t laugh, but he desperately wishes to – but unlike poor little kim jooyoung here, shinwoo has a much better grasp at keeping himself at bay. especially when he’s got the upper hand.

he puts a hand on his chest and gasps, like he’s offended by the vulgarity of the other’s words. he’s not, obviously, but he sure loves to act like he is – especially when jooyoung’s…friends? (they sure don’t look like the type to hang around kim jooyoung, but who really would.) are holding him back and accommodating to shinwoo by apologizing to him. it’s a lovely sight. as soon as he takes a quick glance at one of jooyoung’s ‘friends,’ shinwoo can no longer contain himself. a short round of laughter shoots out of him. he leans back against the bar, both arms hanging loosely on the edge of it.

“you’re so sensitive, kim jooyoung. learn how to take a damn joke.” he puts his pinky in his ear and digs inside of it, trying to dig out jooyoung’s whiny voice out of his head. when he pulls his finger out, he flicks a clump of air towards jooyoung. “you’re ruining the mood.” he looks down at jooyoung’s finger — so accusatory, so righteous, so not fun — and looks back at him. compared to the rage that oozes from kim jooyoung’s face, there’s no emotion on shinwoo’s. he’s no longer laughing. it’s blank. completely stoic.

…take it back?

“no.” he leans down, now at eye-level with kim jooyoung. the rage swirling in his eyes is possibly the most entertaining thing he’s seen in the past month or two. “why should i? if you really want me to take it back—" he reaches out to jooyoung – he’s glad these people are holding him back. who knows what would happen if jooyoung’s free? he’d probably bite him – is being pathetic contagious? – and pushes the guy’s hair back and holds it in his fist; he wants to get a better look at the desperation drawn so clearly on his face.

it doesn’t disappoint – probably the most disgustingly beautiful thing nam shinwoo’s ever seen.

“why don’t you do something about it?” he takes his fist out of his hair and wipes down his hand on the side of his slacks, knowing all too well that kim jooyoung won’t and can’t do anything. 

shinwoo pushes away jooyoung’s finger to remind him once more that he has no power over him.

[namshinhrs]

GO HARD OR GO HOME

‘can’t you have your dad have him arrested?’ of course, it isn’t that easy, not even for the mayor. the words are more out of spite than an actual suggestion. instead of waiting for an answer, he takes another swig, forcing the memory out of his head. ‘forget it. i just want to erase his existence from my mind.’ pause. ‘aren’t you gonna have a drink yourself?’

shinwoo hates doing this but he looks over at sanha, stares at him enough to burn a hole through that perfect face the town raves about. if you ask shinwoo if he thought the same, he’ll agree — albeit reluctantly — and remark how yoo sanha would be much better looking if he let loose much like himself, but golden boy’s unusually stubborn when it comes to keeping up appearances. fortunately, shinwoo’s known yoo sanha long enough (which is not by choice) to know when he’s trying — and somewhat faltering — to keep his cool, so shinwoo just smiles as the other speaks. “convincing,” he hums.

while it is true that kitaek can’t do shit to sanha, there’s a type of power that kitaek has — power that doesn’t solely stem from kim minseok. and this realization is something shinwoo learned recently – they do say you have to watch out for the quiet ones, after all. he wonders just what exactly ahn kitaek has done to yoo sanha to make him so riled up. if he’s being honest, he’s somewhat jealous that ahn fucking kitaek of all people can get a bigger reaction out of sanha than shinwoo can – he’s the master of riling people up. then again, the creep did stalk sᴡᴀɴ.

his smile falters a bit by sanha’s silly question — is he already drunk or is sanha dumber than he had initially thought? it’s probably just something the guy blurted out without thinking, all too swept away by his emotions and — oh god. is he now defending yoo sanha’s lack of intelligence? first he allows their conversation go on for much longer than he would have intended, and now he makes excuses for this soccer ball-for-brains? what in the world is going on? is shinwoo just that bored?

“why would i drink when you’re gonna get drunk for the both of us?” he says, motioning him to drink more – yeah. maybe shinwoo is just that bored. “looks like you need it more, anyway.”  he glances off to the side, eyes swiping over his car before returning to sanha. what would happen if he did offer yoo sanha some of his criminally beautiful delights? faint, probably. the thought makes a chuckle bubble out of him.

“‘sides i have better things to relieve my stress.” he gives his pocket a gentle pat.

[namshinhrs]

double take.

[namshinhrs]

hrsyeoreum‌:

maybe i’ll ask minseok to kill you for me, she thinks. would he? of course. minseok would do anything for her. hell, he would kill shinwoo even if she didn’t ask him. i could watch you die and i wouldn’t feel anything. “maybe.” yeoreum asks, looking at her picture. goeun was so, so happy to marry that piece of garbage. yeoreum turns to shinwoo, gentle expression in her face, almost as if she’s worried about him. “who knows, maybe the murderer is still out there. god knows the police has been an endless pit of incompetence.” she sighs. “but if you die then who would be our next mayor? how would ilmyo live without such a fearless leader?” yeoreum asks, a hint of sarcasm on her voice. “i’m tired. thank you for your company shinwoo, but i think i’ll go home.” she already entertained him for long enough.

“most of us die alone,” he repeats to himself, amused. it’s possibly the most interesting thing yeoreum’s said all night. it’s a fact, though, and he won’t believe otherwise, no matter how many times he’s heard his parents vow to pass in each other’s arms. even if he did believe it, he would still think that kim donghyun didn’t deserve to die at the same time as choi goeun. that fucker deserved to die alone, and to never be found by anyone. but that isn’t to say shinwoo himself deserved to die with choi goeun in donghyun’s place. the girl didn’t deserve to die in general. she deserves to be alive, happy, carefree, and  — well, not necessarily together with him. he was always fine with just having her around. that’s all he could ask for, and that’s all that he needs.

“piece of shit,” he mumbles out before putting the picture back in its place, gently as if it had never been touched at all.

he takes a quick glance at yeoreum, slightly surprised but equally as underwhelmed that she hadn’t slapped him. jung yeoreum is basic, but that’s something shinwoo already knows. maybe he was expecting too much from her by wanting to be slapped. though, he does find some amusement with her tone — is that sarcasm he detects in her words? an attempt at bonding?

“woah — home?” he rarely feels panic, so there is a bit of surprise when he lets his words slip. his shock prevents him from keeping calm, so he grabs her arm with a grip that’s strong enough to hopefully get her to stop whatever she’s trying to do. he doesn’t pull her towards him, though; maybe a slight tug. “look, i know you church goers aren’t exactly the most fun-loving people. but you’re with me.” there’s a strong emphasis there to show that she should be honored that shinwoo’s taking his time out of his night to pay attention to her of all people when there are way better entertainers out there, all waiting to feel his presence. “and when you’re with me, you have certain expectations you have to meet.” he gets closer to her like a lion stalking its prey.

when he gets close, he rests both of his arms on each of her shoulders — an attempt to embrace her. an attempt. he doesn’t have to hug her — not anymore since their mothers don’t seem to be around — so his arms act as a cage, holding her in place; trapping her to stay. he holds her eyes long enough to scare her into the palm of his hand; that always seemed to work on people.

“so cut loose and hang out with me, babe, i know you have nothing else to do.”

[namshinhrs]

pink walk.

[namshinhrs]

seoyulhrs‌:

people expect something of her, have a predisposed notion that her every word must be some colorful flight of fancy, that a simple question will elicit outlandish tales. in truth, pathological lying is not quite so exciting as all that. at least, not usually. not without a few glasses of wine anyway. so sometimes she spins stories just for the hell of it, purely for the sake of someone remaining present, entertained. pathetic of her, honestly, but so is the lying in the first place, and so is she, and therein lies the heart of things. “the ghost of an old war general lurking between the trees, polishing a musket.” she drawls, flat and wry, lips curling at the edge as she cuts her gaze toward him. “and a brewing storm wherever kitaek goes. it was stupid of him to come tonight. i told him that.” she shakes her head slightly, taps a finger to her cheek. “no one listens to me.” she pauses, turning her gaze toward him to bat her lashes playful, “except you of course, darling.” it’s a lie, like so much else is (though not the kind he finds so entertaining), but he likes to feel special, she thinks. 

once you’re dropped by sᴡᴀɴ, it seems like you automatically align yourself with ahn kitaek. and unfortunately, seoyul is not an exception to that – out of all the people she could get along with, it had to be him. he doesn’t find comfort with that thought, but he knows that once the has been queen banishes you, there is no way that you can get back her good graces. people are (or were) aware of this and avoided the outcasts like a plague, but shinwoo’s never been one to follow around orders. especially hers — but strangely never crossed her, either. maybe he doesn’t care enough to?

and while he could neatly cut any sort of connection he had previously shared with sᴡᴀɴ’s victims, he could never effectively find an end to him and seoyul. it’s as if the fates didn’t want them to, so even if he did leave, seoyul somehow manages to call him back. she’s like a siren, enchanting you with whatever story she decided to sing. but unlike typical sailors, shinwoo’s not forced to be pulled into her. he’s a willing partner, listening by his own free will.

his hand comes forward to pat her head, place it on her cheek — whatever it is to reassure her that he’s the only one who will truly listen to her, but he doesn’t do either of those. his hand stops midair and with a roll of his eyes asks her, “you’re still talking to him?” he shakes his head like he’s…tired? exasperated? – he can’t believe he’s feeling like this all because of that creep. — by the attention people keep giving kitaek. what is up with people and ahn kitaek anyways? is it because he looks like a kicked puppy?

his hand picks up where he had left it and goes to pick a lock of seoyul’s hair, wild like her spirit. “come on, seoyul,” he drawls out his words slightly, like a whining child, “i can’t believe you’re talking about him when i’m right in front of you.” he winds her hair around his finger, unravels it, and repeats. if this was anyone else’s hair, he might have yanked on it as punishment – but it’s seoyul. “can’t we talk about something else? please?” there’s an underlying hint of desperation in his voice, but he doesn’t show it – the uncharacteristic ‘please’ might give it away. he still carries that insufferable grin as he tilts down to her level. “i’m really not in the mood today.”

[namshinhrs]

200%

[namshinhrs]

hrskitaek‌:

“should i act all shocked now? – wow, nam shinwoo. he really put it all together. what a fucking genius.” he throws the old bar rag in the direction of the sink, shakes hair from his eyes. “i mean, like, we all know nobody calls you a fucking genius or anything. but i’m guessing all this with an audience means you really want someone to, right?” kitaek breathes in, but doesn’t exhale. instead he lets the air pool in his cheeks, puffed out in thought. 

“you’re like, a month behind on the bullshit revelation. so buy a drink or get out.”

it might be hard to believe, but there was a quality that shinwoo liked about ahn kitaek. the kind of like that makes him feel empty and regret for overlooking him. kitaek is a lost soul, a child who is desperate for something special – a connection – easily malleable, and if shinwoo knew this sooner, he would have befriended him a long time ago; exploited him for all he’s worth until he tires of it. but the time shinwoo wasted trying to butter the guy, the more he realized that ahn kitaek is a difficult nut to crack. sure, he’s easy to let in but difficult to break. and while shinwoo doesn’t hate working hard, he does hate it when things don’t go according to plan – and things almost always followed his plans, by pure luck or by force.

so of course, kitaek’s refusal to cower only encourages shinwoo to give in to his anger.

if the countertop hasn’t been ruined by time wearing this shit hole down, he’s sure his nails digging and digging into it has. his jaw clenches tightly, and if he puts any more force on it, he’d shatter his molars by pure rage alone. “what, you’re not having fun?” he spits out mockingly through his teeth. “i always thought fucked up deviants like you got off to this shit.”

shinwoo knows he’s not a fucking genius; he also knows that he’s not a complete moron, and he sure as hell not small enough to be offended by some nobody who belittles his intelligence. but kitaek’s pushing it – he continues to, dangerously so – did this guy magically forget what fucking nam shinwoo is capable of? ahn kitaek should be thanking him for giving him the benefit of the doubt (?), always seeing him as too weak-willed to pull off a fucking murder when the whole town was suspecting it. the guy should speak nicely, too, give in and admit to his wrongdoing when shinwoo’s being polite enough to hear him out.

but fuck all of that.

he reaches forward, and finally grabs onto kitaek’s shirt. he drags him forward, now eye to eye with him; he hates how kitaek’s been shaking his hair from his eyes, and now the guy can finally get a look at him and his anger.

“who the fuck do you think you are to talk to me like that?” even his father doesn’t talk to him like that. “you think you’re some hot shit because kim minseok’s your personal body guard?” shinwoo’s hold on kitaek’s shirt tightens. “well here’s a little reminder for you, friend: i can end you, and unlike sᴡᴀɴ, i can make it permanent.”

[namshinhrs]

be off with you.

[namshinhrs]

hrsminseok‌:

he swings the door open, violently. about a dozen different emotions working their way through his features before they settle on disgust. “what the fuck do you want?” he asks, “if you’re looking for another excuse to get work on your face done, try again tomorrow. i’m not in the mood.”

if it was anyone else, shinwoo would have greeted them in that insufferably charming way he does: throwing his head back with a smile while saying ‘hey baby.’ but this isn’t just some person that he’s visiting. it’s kim minseok, of all people, so shinwoo can’t him the sarcastic bite that he normally does. he hates that, and hates minseok even more because of it. shinwoo’s positive the feeling’s mutual – hatred, that is. but he also can’t stop himself from being him.

he feels a little spike in his heartbeat when minseok threatens him, though. he wants to cover his nose, tell the guy to eat shit, and bring a bat so he can — he balls the hands in his pockets into fists, shaking with the pressure — he needs to calm down; now is not the time to be losing his cool. he needs to endure this…but can kim minseok? it hasn’t even been two minutes since they started their conversation, and the guy’s already threatening him – a new record, he’d say.

if he’s being honest, shinwoo thought minseok would straight up punch him – there and now.

“dial down the testosterone, kim minseok. what would your neighbors think if you hit the mayor’s son?” a pause, “again.” he knows minseok can’t risk hitting him a second time, but shinwoo still steps back a little after he says his piece, knowing all too well that kim minseok’s fist is a frightful force. ahn kitaek really knows how to pick his friends, huh?

he takes a small peek into minseok’s living situation – can it even be called that? he lives in a semi-basement while shinwoo lives on the upper most floor of an apartment complex (it’s not too big, since he’s gotta stay humble). he’s never seen one in real life, but any kind of desire to explore the little house dies since, well, its owner is kim minseok.

“instead of threatening an innocent bystander, why don’t you take that pent up frustration by getting laid? though, i doubt any poor soul would want to sleep with…” shinwoo takes off his sunglasses and trails off. he looks at kim minseok from head to toe and his eyebrow jerks upwards ever so slightly when shinwoo gets to minseok’s face, and he grimaces. he feels like kim minseok will understand with that.

shinwoo tucks his glasses in his shirt, his smile growing even more smug by the passing second. “but sadly for you, i’m not here to flirt—” he steps back a bit more to lean against his car, something he doesn’t hesitate doing at that time. normally he would, but shinwoo cleaned his car an hour ago just so he could do this – he can’t get dust or grime on his expensive jacket, after all. “i’m here because i have a proposition for you.”