u

𝘨𝘪𝘯

[ywgin-blog]

𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚

[ywgin-blog]

ywkiha‌:

        kiha’s eyes focus on the way that gin moves, as though trying to piece together a puzzle; study the creases of gin’s palms without having them in front of him. he hums and nods, seemingly apathetically but more so not really feeling comfort in any form of humor in the moment. he only remains silent, not commenting on the loneliness of the wake any further – how he and a few others, most of which only knew his guardian in passing, stood isolated in parts of the room decorated with flowers. 

        “hm, she spoke like me… she was from yangwon, or at least lived here most of her life i think?” he says furrowing his eyebrows as he tries to remember. “but no she didn’t talk about her family… i never knew what happened to make her cut off all ties with her children, or perhaps it was the other way around. still it seems wrong to not come to your mother’s funeral, right?” kiha sighs and wiggles his toes inside his socks, hand moving to brush through his unkempt hair. “she was sweet, kind,” he says softly. “she was the only one i had growing up and she made sure to take care of me… as if i were her own.” 

    gin nods, his eyes drifting to kiha’s as silence sweeps the floor, only for a moment, his cheeks warming with the heat of the fire after spending half an hour stuck standing in the cold that afternoon. winter was always his favorite season, but with that came the curse of being stuck in wet, harsh situations as everyone else seemed to be happily couped up inside. he can’t complain, though - the company was always welcomed. hell, he might even call it a home away from home.

    “i assumed.” it’s curt, soft, and generally has no direction as he wants to know more but is too embarrassed to ask directly. isn’t he always? for the sake of his own sanity, he pushes that aside, listening intently as the boy’s voice always seemed to be one of reason. gin had always found it ironic he was meant to be the adult when kiha was absolutely wise beyond both their years, combined. he contemplates, ringing his fingers together and apart habitually; there was never a moment he wasn’t comforting himself, in actuality. 

    “you can read like... people’s ... uh, tarot? tarot readings with that deck, yeah?” he wonders silently if the cards had been passed down, avoiding any jealous whims that the other kept them in his possession when gin had nothing to his name. well, he had this little cottage, and his memory to refresh - so no, he didn’t have nothing. he had kiha, after all. 

[ywgin-blog]

𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙚

an open starter, for you !

    it is only for the most special of occasions that gin lets his fringe hang completely freely, in front of his eyes, obscuring his already lacking eyesight. even during the late nights spent at his computer, he keeps the hair ties someone had kindly left behind for him to manage what was soon to be completely out of control. ‘soon to be’ — as if he weren’t actively avoiding that fateful trip to the hairdresser.

    decency wasn’t really the name of the game now, though. he’d grown up being taught that although he was in his sunday best, keeping his hair natural was the most important part of one’s church attire. maybe his grandma didn’t phrase it that nicely; the feeling of her scrubbing violently at his damp hair rings far more familiar. he shakes his head out of habit, hands following the proverbs being read aloud by the priest as the ends tickled his brow and the shell of his ears without relent. 

    his eyes are perked by an awfully familiar voice pushing past the scarce row of old ladies and the occasional city folk couple (who never last long, as mumbled by one of the longtime altar boys). it’s really not common at all for the yangwon folk to be christian, let alone having been raised a strict catholic. 

    nowadays, he would invest the most time in his faith when he felt particularly lost or tired or just... overwhelmed. he never would’ve imagined it as a kid, but it became a way to cure homesickness. not something he often acknowledged at all. so, all in all, seeing someone from the township - someone he knew - piqued his interest.

    “hey,” it comes out a little louder than he’d intended, so he softens both his posture and his voice accordingly. “what brings you here?” to this service? to a church? to my church, of all places?

[nctmark15-deactivated20191027]

(180222) mark - boss @ mcountdown

[monokoh]

[ywgin-blog]

𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧.

[ywgin-blog]

𝙮𝙬𝙜𝙞𝙣 :

status: well, my sickness has been banished ( mostly ) ! i’m still on track to get round to more of this planting szn stuff, but i am surprisingly freed up atm so i’ll be heading back into the wild west of ims.

all my love, nu ♡

writing:

( yellow ): @ywjae​

( burgundy ): @wooseokyw

waiting:

lavender’s blue: @ywsunyool

feeling peachie: @ywjaehwan​

i’m blue all over: @ywseungho​

apple of her ochre eye: @hyerinyw​

off your high horse: @ywseunghae​

baby, it’s cold outside: @ywkiha​

the language of children: @ywjisun​

black is the new black / dinner date: @ywheni​ 

yes, bromo / the adventures of killugon: @ywsilas​

we grow up: @ywsunhwa​

be the fiona to my...: @ywcjames​

[ywgin-blog]

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙙𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙪𝙜𝙤𝙣

 for @ywsilas

    whatever it had started with, it had ended on an abrupt note.

    when gin had woken up that morning, ready to get the day rolling with celebrations for the planting festival, of course meeting silas was on the schedule. in fact, silas was on gin’s every calendar ( marked mostly by himself with a big star next to it and occasionally one of the stickers he’d usually save for his students. )

     and when he had knocked on gin’s window - never at his door - around 10am, lips pulled into his cheeks like a smug madman... well, his expectations were high. the proposal was as follows: arrive just on time to assimilate into the crowd and keep entertained by keeping tally on who could tuck the most seeds into citizen pockets. quantitatively, it was always going to be difficult. but, when it was him asking, how could gin ever say no? it was a challenge, after all.

    so, 50 counts or so in, silas had ( obviously ) gone for the big guns — one of the mayor’s confidants, an annoyingly boisterous man dressed in the most obnoxious blue outfit he’d seen yet. hell, gin worked for joja, but that dude was overcompensating for sure. without a whisper of input, both of them had sprung at the opportunity to gain ‘extra points’ as they each approached from different sides. expectedly, full proof plans were never their forte.

    now, he is running faster than he can recall doing since high school track tests, feet burning against the pavement as if to punish him for wearing converse on such a hot day. gin looks back for the first time in twenty seconds and finds his accomplice compromised, having difficulty running away from security amidst all his laughter. ‘oh,’ he thinks fleetingly, ‘how the tables have turned!’

    “hey-” he hollers above the heads keeping them separate, alarmingly urgent when their distance was barely a metre and a half. “daddy long legs!”

   he can’t remember the last time he’d been so filled with adrenaline; blood pumping straight to his pink ears, hair fussed about so violently that his previously combed bangs were mere wisps drifting in and out of his vision.

    had he a moment to think, he might consider how strange it was being like this. with silas, like schoolkids, so easily pleased and even easier to excite. if only it were as nice as it sounded. with a lunge to the side, he catches up with the taller boy in a single step, whipping out the scarf he’d brought just in case a sticky situation like this would arise. ‘ever the pragmatic~’—he can hear the teasing already, but he chooses to ignore it as the wind blows the fabric up and out, horizontally.

    “grab on, and hurry up, please !”

[ywgin-blog]

𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝 𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙚.

[ywgin-blog]

ywseunghae‌:

he’s still leaning against his horse, just listening to whatever else this guy has to say. some of those jabs were cute, he has to admit. some were even really good, maybe of him saying such things to the seunghae from a couple of years ago? he would’ve been terribly hurt, not even angry, just hurt. he used to be an overall much more sensitive person, but it is true that life can hit you so hard until you grow thick skin, and sure enough, that was exactly what happened to hae.

so he nods, and even shows fake surprise, “ah, what? you’re telling me this land isn’t mine? could’ve fooled me.” he brings his hand up and pats his own shoulder, “poor me, just now realizing this isn’t my land, just now realizing i, according to your logic, can’t ride freely because it isn’t mine, isn’t that just awful? it sure is.” he gets the point this other guy is trying to make, but for the sake of being obnoxious, seunghae chooses a different route.

“is she now?” he looks in the same direction he did, frowning when he doesn’t see her, “leading the trip, hm? i’m sure she didn’t witness this particular incident, however? and i’m pretty sure she wouldn’t want to have a problem with the parents of that kid. now i love that you’re trying to completely eradicate all blame from you, it’s cute, really. but the fact you’re acting as if you did nothing wrong and i’m the one who fucked up, hey, even by trying to minimize children that are homeschooled just to try and take a dig at me it’s just… VERY admirable, cynical and speaks highly of your lack of professional ethic, but god, that takes some serious dedication, can’t deny that.” and he claps, he claps and smiles at him.

“you’re messing with the wrong guy, though.” he says, the smile still there, but his stance is much more poised, “and if you keep running your mouth, i won’t hesitate to beat the shit out of you, so i suggest you change that tone of yours when you’re talking to me.”

   gin had grown up having to deal with the big kids. his older brother’s ‘friends’ were an interesting bumble of people - ruffling his hair as they entered the house, never with offers to walk him home, but instead to call them up if he ever found himself in trouble. because they loved trouble. at the very least, they cared for him in their own... individualistic way.

   in other words, he liked challenges. if it meant he could win, that was a victory he was ever chasing wherever he went. were arguments measured by winner and loser? were both parties losers? the answer was always yes. regardless, his ears turn red in excitement as the older boy metaphorically puffed out his chest. he spoke with much more venom than one would expect from such a pretty face, but gin found that was often people like seunghae’s vice. all bark, just to lead up to an underwhelming bite. 

   his head lulls lazily as he kicks at the grass, hands now tucked comfortably into the pockets of his jeans while the cool spring breeze passed him. “that’s exactly what i’m saying. glad you could catch on, sweets.” gin grins as the questions roll in, all hastier than the last, running together as he is genuinely sure he’d be more confused if he listened properly. that’s how most of his university lectures went, anyway. 

   “i take responsibility for not being in complete control of my single-minded student.” he says it with enough sarcasm to fit his lenient posture, but also nods to himself as the other goes on, and on, and on. “you talk in like... iambic pentameter dude. and for your information, homeschooled kids are scientifically proven to lack social skills; s’all i was pointing out. now, when you go all die-hard rant about our staff system... you ought to live it before making such big assumptions.” 

   “for acknowledging my dedication,” he hums softly, pulling out the stack of stickers he always kept in his inner pocket, picking at one gently before holding up his pointer finger provocatively, “a gold star?” 

   just to worsen the mood, as he steps forward, gin extends the same hand to place the small decoration on his lapel; his arm rests there momentarily, brushing the barely visible dust off his shoulder before stepping back smugly. physical threats? he was certainly braver than most of the sickly sweet country people he had otherwise crossed paths with. 

    ( and maybe gin was enjoying it a little too much. )

   “why should i change my tone? seunghae-ssi... this is too much fun, and it’d certainly not be my responsibility if you left me with a black eye and a sore, broken heart !”

[ywgin-blog]

𝙡𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧’𝙨 𝙗𝙡𝙪𝙚.

[ywgin-blog]

ywsunyool‌:

he’s a pretty trusting person. 

(like—Believed My Best Bud in Haesan When He Told Me Eggs Are Fake at the Tender Age of Twelve trusting.

…okay. so maybe he’s kind of stupid, too.)

still, sunyool’s come a long way from his mother being exasperated and concerned all-in-one that he might get swept away by strangers some day. he’s still trusting, but at the very least, he’s aware of his surroundings (and especially himself)—which is precisely why his nerves are a little frayed today, sitting too-straight and too-still in the chair in front of gin, anticipating both the best and the worst outcomes to this scenario. 

“oops,” he murmurs, shoulders automatically slouching upon command. sunyool closes his eyes too naturally. it’s weirdly comforting when people touch his hair, and if he weren’t concerned about the before-and-after, he might fall asleep. “i am a little nervous,” sunyool confesses, eyes still closed, arms crossed against his chest, “but it’s not because i’m not confident in your ability!” 

it’s true. he’s confident in gin’s ability.

but he was also confident in his grandmother’s ability when he was eight-years-old. that confidence crumbled into a fine dust when she’d sneezed while holding the scissors (blunt scissors, which could be both a positive or a negative, looking back) and sunyool had to sport the worst haircut known to mankind for what felt like a lifetime. said haircut only got worse after the haidresser in haesan attempted to fix it, and though his classmates’ laughter was short-lived, sometimes in his fondest nightmares, he recalls the class photo his mom refuses to burn for him.

he trusts gin.

(and in the worst case scenario, sunyool’s favorite character in slam dunk has a buzz cut. it’ll be fine.)

“good, i guess?” sunyool opens one eye, almost squinting, stray strands of hair splayed in his field of vision. “went to work on monday, took some walks—oh! grandma tried out a new recipe for preserves. she told me to give you some! remind me after we’re done and i’ll grab the jar…”

with each movement gin makes, the smell of lavender grows stronger and stronger.

sunyool almost sneezes (but he doesn’t—crisis averted). 

“how was your week?” sunyool asks, stifling a yawn. “sorry, is lavender supposed to make you sleepy…?” 

    gin wasn’t exactly trustworthy as a kid. though, was anyone?

    of course, with time, he’d become much more conservative. he understood from an early age that nobody likes a fibber. gin took this as a sign to be the school tell-tale, excitedly following up on his teacher’s wishes for him to gather ‘insider information’ on the pokemon card trading ring that broke multiple council rules. 

   simply put, he found a balance in honesty and dishonesty that served him well, though his social standards never really thrived - especially after being pulled over one rainy day in 8th grade, “snitches get stitches!” yelled in his ear as an empty pack of cigarettes hit him square in the nose. 

   yangwon was certainly a different story. dare he say it, he was even the tiniest bit popular here. being foreign, a community contributer, caring for people’s kids and making friends in the right places had done him well. he was in the hands of people who wholeheartedly trusted him, and he wasn’t dumb enough to mess that up. for now, at least.

   so he kept his hands steadier than he might usually, brushing back sunyool’s fringe gently and ruffling it as the boy spoke tentatively, continuing to tap his foot to the sound of the clippers. 

   “i’m glad. i definitely don’t see you enough! it sucks having to small talk with you just because everything is so... busy.” he knew that was majorly his fault, but he complained nonetheless. “the moment you give me those preserves my diet will become pickled food, and pickled food alone. my breath is bad enough as it is - but i’ll take em’.”

   “tell your grandma thanks, and i promise to visit you both more often.” he wasn’t lying on both accounts - gin could never white lie to him.

   “long. i’m...” he wants to say ‘homesick’, or maybe even talk about how obnoxiously often he's stuck in his home office, but that is much more than a white lie he’s keeping. instead, he changes the subject. “good question! i think if it relaxes you, maybe. but hey, my wrist could surely be a great pillow.”

[ywjisun]

✧༺ the language of children

[ywgin-blog]

ywjisun‌:

       Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ⊶ Waiting for him to respond to her, jisun briefly allows silence to envelop her in its bubble. she has spoken enough for much of the conversation, mind working away at its own nervousness to exaggerate everything. but maybe that is why while her mind is the loudest, she becomes the quietest. pupils allow themselves to focus on the hand beside her own, gazing in slight trance at the drawing.

          until he speaks. ❛―oh,❜ she pauses once again, the turbulence in her heart finally settles down. there are no more birds trying to escape the cage in her throat, having become reasonably appeased. for a second, then breath hitches for a second once again until a slow exhale filters through. if there was anything to be stopped, maybe it would be her pursuit for one chance perfection.

          ❛―you know what?❜ jisun simpers now, an act of confidence to help convince herself that she’ll be okay. which she will be, because the boy doesn’t seem like someone who would spit venom for the fun of it. ❛―i do dare. tell me, so i’ll be even better next time.❜

   he turns around, foot so firm against the floor a small squeak sounds against the linoleum floors. when he was in school, that sound was one he was simply accustomed to — the student body all traded their normal footwear for slippers at their lockers, meaning thousands of feet pacing to the beat of one high-pitched drum.

   the hum was a part of like, back then. but now? it was 101% torture. he winces as he hears the chair scrape behind him, pulling it as fast as he could, sitting down with one leg crossed under the other.

   it was odd how he always made himself smaller than he was; then again, he was never the confident takada son. was he a takada son? ‘too many unanswered questions, too little time.’ and with a sigh, he lets it go.

   “they love praise.” gin wasn’t dissimilar to his students - maybe that’s why he was so attentitive. “obsessed with it. so, the more you bring them into it - let them volunteer, they’ll adore you. a simple pat on the head?” he hums dramatically, 

   “it makes there day. i mean, think about when you were in middle school.”

[ywcommunity-blog]

REQUESTER: eom gin ( @ywgin )

SEARCHING FOR: adoptive cousin

AGE RAGE: 22-24

SUGGESTED FACE CLAIMS: nakamoto yuta, adachi yuto.

DETAILS: when gin was adopted, the grandparents who took him into their care had already taken their youngest grandchild at the time under their wing. the two immediately hit it off, with gin’s sudden lack of siblings being an obvious slot to be filled. growing up, they weren’t just peas in a pod, they were the definition of inseperable - not codependent, but individual in the most brotherly respect. despite having a rough family dynamic, the younger firmly believes that without his older brother his life would be insufferable, and that together they can do anything. to this day, they are still inseparable, despite one studying in kyoto and the other in yangwon… though, hopefully not for long.

CONTACT DETAILS: via discord (nu#1055) or tumblr ims ( @ywgin ) is absolutely fine!

[ywgin-blog]

𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙮...

[ywgin-blog]

ywcjames‌:

from: james choi

 [ 11:01pm — message received 📩 ] why are you like this??? WHY???

 [ 11:01pm — message received 📩 ] by telling me to admit that, aren’t you,,,,,

 [ 11:02pm — message received 📩 ] admitting that you think i’m at least a Little cute and have at least a Little swag?

 [ 11:03pm — message received 📩 ] either way i only speak the truth so i won’t say that

 [ 11:03pm — message received 📩 ] u should invest in a bug screen or smth

from: eom gin

   [ 11:03pm — message received 📩 ] bc im a masochist. duh

   [ 11:04pm — message received 📩 ] jk i cannot handle any pain! imagine not fainting at the sight of blood! 

   [ 11:04pm — message received 📩 ] u assume i didn't say that purely to get u to demean urself ...

   [ 11:03pm — message received 📩 ] the cali boy within is gettin very brave mr choi...

   [ 11:03pm — message received 📩 ] why exclude the lil guys when they’re clearly my friends. unlike You. 🙄

[ywgin-blog]

𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠.

@ywheni said: black

   some things in life are irreplaceable. other than family and friends, people like to invest their love in pets, books and other trivial pursuits that mean so much more than their title. gin and his own hobbies were no different.

   in elementary school, every student had been required to choose an instrument to learn and play with the school band. after the first month of searching desperately for something second hand, he came upon the music room’s stash of acoustic guitars. without a second thought, his scrawny 4th grader hands grasped the neck and started strumming away with no rhyme, reason or direction. it was a requirement, nothing more, nothing less — his goal was always to be the best student he could be, after all.

   by the time high school had started rolling in the punches, gin was fully fluent in the language of sheet music and pretending to sight read as his phone lay tucked amongst the myriad of papers sitting on his stand. from jason mraz, to more abstract original pieces, he was the high school band’s one-way ticket to late night vcr memories. ‘not quite marching band good, but just alright enough to be given a stage’, to quote his valedictorian speech.

   so, when he was asked to accompany yangwon’s own rock band, gin decided it was high time he got a second opinion on his rusty right hand. he’d played plenty in the comfort of his own home, but only in varying states of drunk, with a confidence he wasn’t sure he was able to muster in front of the entire upper school. hence the company and jet black bass guitar resting on his knee.

   after carefully playing 3 pieces, phasing in and out of himself as he focused on remembering where to place his fingers along the longer, broader fretboard and how comfortably he could recite the tune, he turned silently to his judge. “my very own simon cowell?” he’d questioned when heni was the sole volunteer after he had requested help during monday’s sun-soaked morning tea.

    “so…” he drags it out, unsure and absolutely awaiting praise (as he almost always did), “any opinions? well… i mean, where do we start?”

[ywgin-blog]

𝙤𝙤𝙘.

status: « coughs onto your tl » hi laid ease ! to put a long story short, i’m v sick and have so much schoolwork that i’m bout to drown. i’m also running 2 campus events tmrw so u know what that means 🤠healin up & no replies til the #wknd ! for i fear what i write might just be a fever dream ! many apologies, and i pinky swear i’ll make up for it in excess 💘this might also be a cause of jaemin’s new drama teaser 😔

[neotechs]

MC Mark ✧ 180602

[ywgin-blog]

𝙬𝙚 𝙜𝙧𝙤𝙬 𝙪𝙥.

for @ywsunhwa

    gin has been in a bipartisan relationship his entire life. he knows that when he was in yangwon, living as han eul, he had siblings. 3 or 4, he’s still unsure, but there was a family that cradled him beyond his parents. when it came to nara, living so far away from his previous home that is was a ‘potential danger’ forwarned by the court, it was just the same — and this time, he remembers. 

    the minute details about growing old with a brother that didn’t cushion him, per se, but propelled him forward quite violently into his own. it was a glorious, glorious way to spend 15 years, and he avidly supports that whenever he reflects on it out loud. sometimes, though, he’s left to ponder the reality to his upbringing when alone. a general lack of affection and communication, being cast into the shadow of a rowdier, more charismatic, and more entertaining cousin who had many a time claimed he’d live and die for gin’s success. did that encompass happiness? of course. did gin see that? of course not. 

    for now, he could chalk it up to a lack of a sister figure to ground him before launching him off, surrounding him with stars that only disoriented him more ( no matter how beautiful ). it was without question that grounding was yang sunhwa. as gin liked to joke, the apple of his eye. 

    the moment they had met, something within him had clicked. she was someone he stayed comfortably silent around, and knowing it was unnecessary for him to trail on about things that would only exhaust him was... for lack of a better word, liberating. like the fruits of all his years spent talking and talking and talking to just be quiet. on his own accord. to hold onto her arm, rest his head against her shoulder and walk idly while pointing out things wordlessly. 

    just as he was now. though this particular occasion did call for some speaking, as it was his first planting festival and he had planned diligently to spend it with the town expert herself. “so, what’s the whole goddess’ son tradition about? and... is it possible i could spoil this with all my questions?”

    “apologies in advance, nuna, but i just hate feeling so... lost !” 

[ywgin-blog]

𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚

[ywgin-blog]

ywkiha‌:

       kiha hums, moving to stretch out his legs and move his gaze back to the fire. he gathers his memories about the old woman who raised him, for she had died long ago. he remembers being by her side, holding her hand when her sickness came and in a matter of months took her away from him – the only one who ever called him their own, the only person who had the heart to claim him. he sighs, pursing his lips and rubbing his eye with his finger. 

      “she was very kind,” he says softly, looking back to gin. “she took care of me, adopted me… i didn’t know much about her children, but they didn’t come to her wake.” kiha sighs, chest tightening the more he thinks about the days spent in mourning after the only person who he’d ever know as a mother died. “she gave me these,” he says pulling out his favorite deck of tarot cards – the gold detail glistening in the light of the fire. “but i didn’t start doing readings until after she died, until i had to in order to be able to eat.” a sideways smile hangs on his lips. “is there anything you want to know specifically?” 

    unwittingly, he keens forward with the comments. the grandmother who raised him was cold, calculated and although he knows now she loved him, never went through the effort of showing it. all he had were heirlooms he’d watched her clean bi-monthly, and the extended will that illustrated her copious amount of regrets... not particularly family friendly. so, naturally, all of this information would be stored in his foremost memory to mull over for weeks on end. 

    “my parents! well, yeah. they didn’t come to my birthday, either.” the joke is cynical, but he doesn’t ever seriously mention them, so it seems appropriate for the mood. his hand is gentle to rest on kiha’s shoulder for only a moment, quickly finding its way back to the fur of the pudu lying idly on the carpet. so quiet, so innocent and so reserved from their surroundings - an admirable feat, for sure. “they’re beautiful. they suit you.” he hopes the sentiment passes across to kiha, gin only used to writing down and scribbling out his words over and over again. 

    “honestly? how did she speak? did she have a dialect? did she ever talk about how long she’d been in yangwon or any of her family at all? did she like kids? and was she good at what she did? i’ve never heard anyone tell me it ‘runs in the family’ obviously, but some things must! right?” 

    something must, right?

[ywheni-blog]

❀ dinner date

[ywgin-blog]

ywheni‌:

starter for @ywgin !

the hallway off which laid all the kindergarten classes was empty now, the kids having been picked up a little under half an hour ago. heni’s classroom had been, for once, not too messy when the school day had finished, so he’d managed to get away sooner than usual, excited for his afternoon plans. with his jacket hung over his forearm and satchel hanging from his shoulder he makes his way to gin’s classroom, leaning against the door frame as he peers into the room, smiling as he spots the younger teacher. “did the little monsters wreak havoc again?” there’s a fond smile on his lips as he talks about the kids. 

heni had invited gin out for an early dinner slash late lunch sort of get-together, since he’d grown fond of gin over the time he’d known him. despite gin being, in a way, utterly terrifying to heni sometimes, what with his ‘compooters’ and ‘smart phone’, and the vocab he used sometimes being entirely unfamiliar, heni had learned to look past all that and appreciate the caring boy beneath the tech. 

sure, heni didn’t want anything to do with his ‘compooter’ but he did want a lot to do with gin himself. so, he’d decided that going out for some food and a chat would do them good, especially away from the school setting, where their time in the staff room was always punctuated by odd shrieks or echoing laughter from students running around outside. 

“i hope you’re hungry, because i am, and i’ll feel really silly if i’m the only one stuffing my face.” he could already smell the grilling meat and the mouthwatering kimchi pancakes; his stomach rumbled, as if to attest to the fact that he was absolutely ready to devour whatever was set in front of him once they got to the restaurant. 

     gin’s days were pacing along with an increasing amount of stress, work and of course, the undeniable fun that came alongside working with kids. immune to holding back, he’d discovered a great balance to passivity and aggressiveness in his life as of late, and that was certainly owed to the classroom he now happily called a second home. whether it was the late, late nights spent updating his gradebook, or early mornings accounting for kids before a school trip, he knew yangwon public as a safe place. 

     despite this, the lingering reminder that it wasn’t his second home came with a sour grimace every single time it was brought up. simple questions about where he was from, and when he’d be going back, were so common he couldn’t indulge in any alternate reality. he’d come on a whim, honestly, but it was starting to feel scarily true that yangwon was not (whether he liked it or not) a dine and ditch. in fact, he might compare it to a late-night restaurant he’d dropped by unintentionally and ended up returning to for an entire 6 months. 

     the greatest part of that fear was the people. his peers, colleagues, friends and... and even his family. above all else, gin couldn’t deny that his blood and bones lay in the soft soil of those ever extending, rolling hills. but the new faces were just as daunting. well, most of them. amongst these ‘familiar faces’ was a fellow teacher, xiao heni. said to resemble a cat, he was a daily reminder of gin’s impending departure. what, with the baked sweets that kept him functioning til lunchtime, that were never once requested, instead a welcoming gift that lasted too long for him not to feel guilty.

     so, when dinner was proposed, he wasn’t going to refuse. especially with such kind, charismatic company - the company of someone absolutely accepting of gin and his broad range of interests, loud laugh, and never-ending determination. no sigh when he’d tumble into the staff room with a grunt, always confused whether it was a push or a pull. no, he was judgment-free and simply good. duh, terrifying.

     he turns around, rubbing his eyes to rid the nastier thoughts, smiling brightly in the older boy’s direction. now it was mentioned, he was always hungry. maybe that was due to his tea addiction and lack of meal prep skills; god, the kitchen was a battleground in his household. “i doubt you’ll be eating more than me. i’m tired and sufficiently starved after the weather thought’d be fun to keep me inside all lunch, away from my dear.. convenience store.”

     “so, i assume you’ve already picked the spot? can i really trust your taste, haeng-nim?”