✦ ⌢ coyote casino ＠ ~9:30 p.m. ｡
✦ ⌢ @drftings reacted for a starter from nory ｡
cold water splashes in her face, a feeble attempt at grounding herself for the remainder of the night. as she blinks up at herself in the mirror, she catches the opening of the restroom door & the entrance of xile rosario. an involuntary laugh sputters out— she'll blame it on the drinks, but really— is this a joke ? each & every chance it gets, the universe loves planting her at the other's feet. it's hard to find the right words, so she doesn't. she recounts her own misfortunes of opening the doors instead, ❝ you do not want to go in the first or second stall. ❞
✦ ⌢ @drftings sent a sentence starter ｡
↛ ❛ his hair gel was fucking atrocious. ❜
❝ ugh, don't remind me ! ❞ the words have rhiannon cringing away, wiping at her shoulder as if to rid herself of the memory. ❝ like, don't talk to me if a hurricane couldn't move your hair, oh my god. ❞
✦ ⌢ coyote casino ＠ ~6 p.m. ｡
✦ ⌢ @drftings reacted for a starter from hyunsik ｡
really, they should stay away from xile at this showcase, especially with a recent rodani win looming over their heads— but hyunsik had given up on the things he should do a long time ago. ❝ tell me, ❞ he begins, seeming to appear behind her spontaneously. their voice is low. ❝ what car do you put the most time into ? y'know, so i know where to place my next bet. ❞
✦ ⌢ @drftings sent a sentence starter ｡
↛ ❛ life’s simple, you make choices and you don’t look back. ❜
definitive choices follow hyunsik seung like a shadow, ones that he does not allow himself to second guess. kneeling to his parents whims until he couldn't. walking away on his wedding day. leaving the rodani prowlers— hyunsik looks back on this one choice. of course they do, because xile exists there. it's ironic enough to pull a laugh from him. ❝ yeah. words to live by. ❞ he shakes his head & leaves it at that. because what prize is it to be hyunsik's standing exception ? a line still exists between them. he downs his drink.
you don't remember much about the day your father fell from grace, but you remember the silence. the kind that stretched so thick it felt like drowning.
it was early morning in seoul when the first whispers surfaced. you were ten — old enough to understand, too young to grasp the full weight of it. the television was on, your mother standing stiff in the kitchen, gripping the counter like it was the only thing keeping her upright. the smell of doenjang jjigae hung in the air, but neither of you touched your bowls. the news anchor's voice was unnervingly calm, detached even, as the breaking news banner blared across the screen.
“오진석, 대규모 투자 사기 혐의로 체포…수천억 원 피해”
( oh jinseok arrested for large-scale investment fraud… billions lost in damages )
at first, the words didn't register. they were too big, too formal, too unreal. you had to hear them again, slower this time. your father's name. his company's name. FRAUD. EMBEZZLEMENT. ARREST. the words crawled into your ears, dug into your brain like they were carving something permanent.
you turned to your mother, but she didn't look at you. didn't move. just stood there, staring blankly at the news, her face eerily pale, her lips pressed so tightly together they looked bloodless.
❝ 엄마...? ❞ you tried, voice small.
nothing.
the screen flickered with images : men in suits, flashing cameras, the back of your father's head as he was pushed into a patrol car, his wrists bound in silver. his face wasn't visible, but you didn't need to see it to know — he was guilty.
GUILTY.
the word felt foreign when applied to your father. the same man who brought you to amusement parks, who taught you how to tie your shoes, who ruffled your hair and told you to be strong. but in that moment, all you saw was a stranger.
and then, everything changed.
you didn't go back to school after that. 엄마 wouldn't let you. the moment the news spread, whispers turned into stares, stares into hushed conversations, hushed conversations into outright avoidance. you had been oh jinseok's son yesterday. today, you were the son of a criminal.
your mother never said it aloud, but you could see it in the way she kept the curtains drawn, the way she flinched at every knock on the door. you weren't safe — not from reporters, not from former colleagues demanding answers, not from the families of those your father had ruined.
the next few days blurred into a haze of unanswered phone calls and unopened letters. your mother stopped leaving the apartment. you stopped asking when you could go outside again.
and then one night, as she packed what little you had left into two worn suitcases, she finally spoke.
❝ 바롬아… 이제부터 우리, 조용히 살아야 해. ❞
(barom-ah… from now on, we have to live quietly.)
live quietly. as if your entire life wasn't already collapsing. as if silence could erase the weight of your father's sins.
you didn't argue. you didn't ask questions. you just nodded, swallowing down whatever words you might have said.
by the time you stepped off the plane in miami, your father's name had become a curse back home. oh jinseok — once a respected businessman, now just a disgrace. people spat his name like it was poison. and you ? you carried it with you, even when you stopped speaking it out loud.
even now, years later, you still wonder. did he think about you when he ran ? did he even care ?
a win for nariza is tantamount to a win for sloane. this, of course, has less to do with teamwork than it does a personal vendetta. sloane had a hand in winning because it was her work on some of those cars that got them past the finish line, so naturally xile had a hand in losing for that very same reason. victory tastes sweet, and so does spotting xile across the room tonight.
“why, look who it is! you drinkin' your troubles away tonight? i hear tequila does wonders for easin' the sting of a loss. though if i were you i'd run on back to the garage to work on sharpenin' my skills so i don't end up embarrassin' myself at the next race.”
★ dedicated to xile rosario ｡
★ @ body , around 10 pm ｡
↛ ( prompt ) i don't think i'm ready ｡
nothing inspires gossip to spread like wildfire quite like numerous fights in a night. the word seems to reach her faster when xile rosario is at the center of two of them— or maybe the name itself causes nory's ears to perk up, like a dog waiting for its owner to come home. you made a choice, she reminds herself– the weight falls on you. it's entirely coincidental that she finds herself standing next to xile despite the sea of people in the club. it's habitual that she feels the urge to console. and it's totally inevitable that those words leave xile's mouth: i don't think i'm ready. for this, for her– nory's brain can fill in the blanks. ❝ right. ❞ her lips press into a thin line to subdue the sting. a pause, to let the sick feeling roll off her shoulders. ❝ just— can you ignore all the shit for a minute ? people can't stop talkin' about you ‘cos of your fuckin’ fists, shouldn't it be about your outfit or somethin' ? ❞ @drftings
🗝️ dedicated to @drftings' xile.
📍 @ heartbreaker bar, just after this.
this is where he is most comfortable, stepping into the doorway of heartbreaker bar. noisy lawless land, as far as he's concerned. mischief seems to be wired into their electric & they have no intentions on being the one to qualm it. straight ahead, there's a pack bar. to his left, people clearly feeling the valentine's spirit. and to his right, a mess of fists & raised voices. brows raised, impressed by how his night became immediately more interested when— shit, is that xile ? in that case, he can play peacekeeper tonight. he knows he doesn't step between a fight without risking a hit on himself, and yet... arms reach out, take hold. xile is officially off the ground. ❝ nope. ❞ he says, loud enough to be heard over the music. another display of strength when she's placed directly over his shoulder. once she's secured into place, he begins moving for the door. ❝ quit fuckin' kicking me. we're out. ❞
