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⸻ 𝒂 𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒔

The day is December 26th, 2016. In these moments that lead into the interrogation, the rook finds himself at odds with everything and everyone. It is a pivotal moment that will change him more than he will ever know.

#calendar ( 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔 )#cm:breaking #cw physical abuse #man is officially perma unhinged after dec 20 hits but that's ok #posting before i get to the questions bc timeline things!! for my own benefit and also to provide further context #as to how he was during this ... week or so

In between the empty spaces, she sees him.

It’s not nearly as sentimental as it seems. He is, after all, the only figure at the bar, the seats parallel to him vacant on purpose. The way his back is arched reminds her of a wounded animal, spine bent with the weight of survival. It’s a reminder of him at the wake; all that bark and that bite and that break. She remembers thinking that there is nothing romantic about that particular grief. The type that’s self-inflicted, a two-way knife.

And now he’s here alone. He’d kill her if she said it, but she feels fucking bad. Where they come from, they gut feelings out of you like the insides of fruit and polish the empty until it gleams. Then they look at you funny when you bleed anyway. Making machines out of men: an imperfect process. She would know; her dad had never managed it with her.

Back to the boy:

There’s probably a wealth of literature out there about how you’re not supposed to confront ticking time bombs, but to be honest she’s not big on the whole reading thing. So she goes off pure instinct: open hands, open face as she slides onto the seat on his right with ease, the ice in her glass tinkling from the maneuver. Let the change in atmosphere settle into the silence. Half of her feels whatever is just before regret — and the friends she’d left behind at their private table would swiftly agree — but she’s not in the mood for second guessing. Never been the type. So, okay, think: here she is next to a crouching tiger, and all she’s got for armor is her mom’s old Gaultier.

Light work.

“Let me guess — whiskey neat?” Airy tone to match a similarly carefree expression; from her point of view the glass is drunk clean, so really it’s a shot in the dark. “You kind of seem like the type. That or like, a martini. Bond style.” And then a big old smile, to set the mood. “Whatever it is, want another one? My treat.”

RED LIGHT — @silenthowls

#2016 #cm:breaking #w: yohan #t: red light

Now that I've gathered some thoughts and done some brainstorming with a few people, I'm going to be making a more cohesive timeline and put my plot ideas from my initial post here so everything is all organized. Later, I will be making a specific page for events summarizing Yohan's reactions and interactions during them for posterity ~ I'll also do smth similar to this when the next part of the event hits as well.

⸻ THE ALIBI

Yohan was, admittedly, not thinking of giving too many people an out for this one. Unless you were Bae Yunhee, that is. The narrative is that Yohan overheard their plans to go to the resort for a getaway; his own presence there being a reluctant chaperone and alibi for their sake. Just in case their parents disapproved of their sudden private tryst and needed an out for being alone together. The rest of the story is that he, for the most part, kept to himself, wandering around the building quietly like a man intent on meditating — which is actually true to the real events of that day prior to the dinner party.

⸻ TIMELINE

DEC 20TH : Yohan was out on an arranged date when the news broke, and proceeded to make several phone calls. Needless to say, he rushed back to campus the minute after he hears it, trying not to throw himself into a panic. That night is his first sleepless one — he stays up all night.

DEC 21ST : The funeral comes fast; so fast that Yohan still hardly has much time to register what's happened. It is clear he is in distress. During this day, he is quiet, trembling as he attempts to keep himself together in the presence of others. He mentions after, off-hand, that maybe he should speak to the police.

DEC 22ND : By now, it is beyond clear Yohan has hardly gotten much sleep in the past two days, nor eaten from the way his stomach bubbles in protest. However, he is in intent on attending each day of the funeral. His parents attend with him this time to console Hyungseo's. Unfortunately, this is also the day Yohan happens to lose his mind and has his outburst, spurred on by the hostility that already rests in the air. He is dragged away and piled into his parent's car. They take him home shortly after where he continues his meltdown and subsequently punches a hole in the wall of his room. His father gives him the beating of the lifetime to knock some sense into him, and discipline him for embarrassing them in front of everyone. "You may be too old to send back, but we can sure as hell disown you. Did you forget how lucky you are?"

DEC 23RD : Yohan shows up to the final day, too; more rested, but keeping to himself this time. There is a bandage over his knuckles now and a far off look in his eye, light wincing as he walks. It is quite obvious he is seething, though. The same day, he visits the memorial for the first time and places the pocket watch he intended to gift Hyungseo after his victory among the other things. He decides it's time to throw himself head first into self-destructive behaviors.

DEC 24TH : Another memorial visit to assess what's been left for Hyungseo. Another day of thinking of taking up smoking. Another day of plotting revenge on everyone who has wronged him and Hyungseo.

DEC 25TH : His father, once again, is unhappy with his adopted son. He's caught wind of the police interview taking place the next day and decides to remind Yohan of his place. If he had any thought of exposing the entire thing, it's been forced out of him now. He's in no mood for Christmas dinner and leaves to do something more productive with his time.

DEC 26TH : The interrogation, interview; whatever you may call it. Yohan keeps to himself for the most part if he sees anyone at the station. He's decided. Everyone will pay for this somehow.

⸻ PLOT IDEAS

It is a couple days after Hyungseo is found. His funeral is taking place, and Yohan is none too calm about it. When his outburst comes, only MUSE A is the one who takes action and pulls him back before something bad happens. They are the one who loads him into the car that takes him to his parents' home where he is met with his own version of Hell. Not that they would ever know what they'd done.

SONG SUNYOUNG is determined to convince Yohan to cease in his determination to tell the entire truth. Whether it's done in a gentle manner or not is of no consequence. He doesn't seem like he's backing down the day the news is revealed, and he has it already set in his mind. Maybe it's time to set him straight. But, at least you aren't the only one trying to talk some sense into the man.

In this time, Yohan finds himself more willing to do things he wouldn't normally be inclined to do. In his search for distractions and in his attempt to put his mind off of completely going off the deep end, he finds solace in MUSE C for the time being. What's a little scandalous rendezvous between two people in a difficult time? Especially if it means he will chill out a bit and stop threatening to cause havoc? It might offer a temporary slice of stress relief along the way. And, no, it doesn't matter if they've always hated each other or will ruin their friendship with it.

MUSE D just doesn't get it. What was so great about Hyungseo anyway, and why is Yohan so damn hung up on someone like him? They are the first to express this out loud, deriding the man's method of mourning. It seems he's lost his mind, after all, so aren't their feelings justified? Anyway, it wouldn't be the first or last person who Yohan gets in a fight with during this week of turmoil. Physically or otherwise.

#ooc #cm:breaking #cw physical abuse #YES i am making a new one ok dont come for me #also if something in the timeline catches your eye feel free to reach out too

Out the window, December is in full bloom: ink-black by half five and the city lights warm against the expanse, the scarf on the chair a reminder of the biting cold she’d left at the door. By the window she sits with a boy, pretty from every angle and the picture of attentivity. Even the lamplight is strangely sentimental — romantic, even — if not for that one thing.

The thing: her date with the police tomorrow. Better a rendezvous with the devil; that would be an easier pill to swallow. Luckily for her Seunghan is all things clever, twice as handsome, and evidently sympathetic to her barefaced pleas for assistance. She’d be hard-pressed to find anyone so willing to incriminate themselves in someone else’s crime (though to be fair he’d been scheduled for one as well, and she was a big believer in collaborative effort). And, okay, sure, a little bit of it was because she wanted to spend time with him. A little.

Probably not the best thing to say to this very nice boy who was helping her out. A bit too forward, maybe. Totally not her style anymore.

They’ve run through a generic list of questions already, him bouncing them off to her at light speed in likely a far more lenient imitation of the real interview. It’s the rush that gets her, the thoughts too fast for her tongue, the nerves taking over and causing her to short-circuit. Mid-(fake)interrogation she feels her throat closing after stumbling over too many words and has to signal to stop. Track record so far: not great.

“I’m nervous.” Let it go unsaid that in part it’s because of him. Fuck her, she’s never been great at hiding her heart, sleeve notwithstanding. “I— ugh.” Her hands twist as if to expel her anxiety, the only thing to show for her effort being the crescent shaped indents on her palms. In a huff she sinks further into the sofa, head lolling over the backrest as she looks over at Seunghan. “This is really hard.”

As if the detectives would make it easy. Be a big girl, Soojung.

“Can we try again?” And, in a moment of levity, a smile and a tease. “Be a little nicer this time.”

MAGNETIC — @5threquiem

#t: magnetic #w: seunghan #2016 #cm:breaking

pray you are not taken by the devil’s deception. he will come to you when you are at your weakest, just as he had done to the good lord who had, once, taken the shape of man and in doing so, endured the weakness of flesh. here, he will offer you the remedy to your immediate suffering. pray you do not fall to this temptation. though it may appear kind to the untrained eye, the devil has but one motive: to steal. to kill. to destroy. from his lips he offers you the world, but peek behind them and you will find the tongue salivating from his ungodly appetite for your soul.

kim seunghan swears he saw the devil. in fact, he is looking at the back of him now. go jihoon strikes a commanding presence, but it is kim yul that the knight looks at as he stands amid the crowd, now unmasked. around them is a tangible tension, shoulders stiffening and heads bowed — is this debasement not a kind of death? yes, kim seunghan sees it now. there, the corners of yul’s lips turn upwards into a unsettling smile. some will claim it to be a trick of the light, but seunghan knows better.

mother had taught him better.

at some point, go jihoon runs his mouth dry. do not ask seunghan for the details — he is too busy watching yul leave. he excuses himself and slips quietly behind, only making himself known inches from where the light from the ball streams into the darkened hallway. here, he digs his fingers into the latter’s bicep and wrenches him forcefully back.

“it’s you, isn’t it?” seunghan accuses, his gaze murderous from where it peeks behind the mask, “you fucked off to the states eight years ago when hyungseo was buried along with his name. now you’re back, and how convenient — so is he.”

the man releases his hold on his older half-brother in a manner that is not unlike a shove. he sees it now, the devil’s motive — to throw him off his game, if only so yul may steal his inheritance from right under him. mother was right. seunghan steps forth, hovers over his half-brother with barred teeth.

“you’re the rat.”

TO THE DEATH ft. kim seunghan & @heirdrop's kim yul

#𝐢𝐯. WRITING.#ft. kim yul 002.#anno domini : 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 #cm:breaking #I MADE IT

PLEASE LEAVE A MESSAGE AFTER THE BEEP.

“hello, this is officer park donghyun of seoul metropolitan police. we’ve been trying to reach you regarding the noh hyungseo case. the case has recently been reopened as some new evidence has come to light. we would like to invite you into the station for a voluntary interview to clarify a few details from your previous statement. please contact me at your earliest convenience so we may book in a time. you can reach me directly at this number. we are aiming to conduct this interview sometime next week. thank you for your cooperation. we hope you have a good day.”

“…seunghan? seunghan. what is it?”

where was he? start with the obvious. here, leaning forward on the couch, a hand gripping his phone until the knuckles pale. mother, now beside him, an anchoring hand digging into his shoulder. seunghan looks into her eyes, notices how the concern etches into the wrinkle between her brows.

“they’re reopening the case,” he parrots, only remembering to shut his phone when prompted by the click, “hyungseo’s.”

“what?”

there is something to be said about the way she stands while he sinks into his open palm. a pity seunghan doesn’t have the words. mother paces in front of him, her arms crossed.

“did they say why?”

“something about new evidence.”

“about your involvement?”

the words die in his throat. his mother holds her position in front of him — looking down upon him — and there is a twitch in her jaw that catches the light. like always, it is him who yields the stare.

“i… i don’t know.”

she doesn’t conceal the sigh. seunghan doesn’t look up again. not when he hears her breathing deepen. not when he hears her footsteps resume along the marble flooring. like a dog, he only responds when spoken to.

“it’s yul.”

seunghan stills, brows furrowing.

“why now?” she prompts, her tone forceful, “what’s changed in the last eight years?”

it’s instinct, the way he shakes his head. “but… i don’t —”

“seunghan. your father is sick. the company will go to one of his sons. you. or him. do you understand? hyungseo was your best friend.” she kneels before him, a hand on his knee and another on his cheek. “oh, darling. you’re too soft, just like your father. you can’t let it get in the way of everything.”

only now, does he pull his gaze to look at her, and he finds that her eyes are warm as the palm on his cheek. he leans into her touch, and reaches up to hold with his cold hand.

“you’ve worked too hard for this, darling.”

where was he? now, between the lines.

seunghan nods. against the tenderness of her palm, he grits his teeth. “i won’t let him win. i promise.”

#𝐯. INBOX.#anno domini : 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 #cm:breaking #VOM anyway

SEEING RED ⸻ @5threquiem

Grief is nothing the human body will experience once in one's lifetime, and it is not a delicate little monster — nor are the five fiends hot on its trail. It is the first time Jin Yohan has experienced the true sorrow of loss; of knowing the pain when another being he's bothered caring for has died. It is not unfamiliar like the death of his adoptive father's grandfather when he was too young to process the concept. He thought it was all a joyous occasion back then; what with the crooked smile on his father's face.

Only on the first day of Hyungseo's funeral did grief and all its companions introduce themselves to Yohan. Anger took a particular liking to him; settling on his shoulder alongside the sin called wrath who'd already burrowed its claws in long ago.

It should have been enough for him to brood in silence; take the loss with grace, remember he stands before others, Hyungseo's parents included. However, there is a lingering presence of others that churn his blood into a boil. The stone-like faces of members of the King's Club — the club he'd fought so hard to find place in, to uphold the pride of. All it takes is an off-hand comment by one, a tiff said in the sloppiest of stage whispers, to send Yohan over the edge he'd been on the precipice all week.

He breathes in, the scent of sulfer pushing through his nostrils, and when he exhales, it becomes a roaring fire.

"Would you shut the hell up?" is how it begins. And the hall grows silent, just as he requests. The bitterness bunches his voice into a firm stacatto. He could so easily say it all, shout every revelation the dead boy's parents had been hoping for weeks on end. Had Yohan the better mind to, perhaps he could have. In fact, he is unconscious of the things that spill from his mouth within those tense few minutes. He remembers yelling, accusing them of being unworthy of being there while his fingers clenched. Crying out that he wished Hyungseo had not been such a fucking fool to die. He wished, he wished, he wished.

He doesn't quite feel the sting of tears until he's dragged toward the entrance, cold dry breeze stuck on his skin, all the while a pair of hands pull his thrashing form back with all their might.

"Let go of me, dammit!" He pushes forth another command, hoping it would work as well as it did moments earlier.

#calendar ( 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔 )#cm:breaking #03.seunghan #oops it got a bit long im sorry

pray you are fortunate enough to be martyred for your faith. in this way, the murder and imprisonment of one’s physical body may be viewed as a blessing. do not be mistaken: the boon does not lie in physical suffering or the opportunity to prove one’s devotion to the god — rather, it lies in the god’s mercy for those who leave themselves open for slaughter in his holy name. see, how the lord will send his angels to spare you the hurt.

the god he serves dies in a lake eight years ago, and the sinners gather in desecration of his sacred temple. eight years ago, kim seunghan, in his righteous anger, had stood by the dead god, had stormed the temple to cast out all who dared commit sacrilege. eight years later and again, they make a mockery of the god’s death. they reconvene here in this temple, and kim seunghan finds his strength wavering.

and so, as is the god’s grace, he sends his angels to spare the hurt. in front of him is nam soojung. she stands by the bar, an intricate mask on her face and her back turned towards him, but it matters little how she orients or presents — kim seunghan will recognise nam soojung anywhere. it will take a stronger man to doubt her attendance in this party for businessmen — and perhaps, rightfully so — but kim seunghan is parched in the desert and here she stands, a body of water. and is it not an understanding that angels are not of this earth? yet they roam in deference to the god. as will she.

he approaches, stands right by her and there is a certain silence held between them, filled by the crescendo of a song that reminds him of a simpler time back in his car — one hand on the wheel and another on her thigh. kim seunghan may pretend to have bought into her disguise now, but in this way, intimacy is a water in a dam. simply because he holds it back does not mean that it is not always pushing forth, always feeling for the crack.

“a selfish part of me hopes you came alone,” he confesses, finger tapping against the bar as he briefly places an order for his glass of red. finally, he turns to address her, leaning his weight against the bar, “otherwise, whoever left you here is a fool.” now beside her, seunghan lets his gaze trace deliberately along her features lest this is the last time he gets to see her like this — content, like this.

do not be fooled by his composure. here, watch him take a breath and see the way it shakes. seunghan steadies himself in the exhale, “care to dance with a stranger?” and he holds a hand out. here, pushing forth. here, feeling for the crack.

she always loved to dance.

GOD SENDS HIS ANGELS ft. kim seunghan & @cataclyisms's nam soojung

#𝐢𝐯. WRITING.#ft. nam soojung 003.#anno domini : 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 #cm:breaking #yappatron3000 is back