chryuhwan

[chryuhwan]

EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT! FORMER BEST FRIENDS WALKING A TIGHTROPE THAT ONE OF THEM DOESN’T EVEN KNOWS EXISTS! 

well pops, hate to break it to you, but i’m pretty sure god really is dead!

(and other fruitless, worthless, pointless, and not to mention half-hearted sentiments presently coursing through nam yuhwan’s mind.)

the human body is probably a prison. that’s what yuhwan’s actually thinking right now. sitting in a family restaurant, grilling the meat (silently, too, which is crazy because yuhwan loves disrupting otherwise idyllic atmospheres—a favorite past-time right up there with exploiting people’s secrets) for two people he’s pretty sure are, on paper and to the masses, supposed to be his best friends shouldn’t feel like punishment.

but it does. 

for more reasons than one, it does. and he has to admit that at least forty-nine percent of the guilt weighing on his shoulders is probably a product of his own mistakes, but maybe they wouldn’t be here if this wasn’t his first time seeing @suranchr face-to-face in years?

(but every time he catches a glimpse of her face, he feels himself wavering like a god damn fool, and maybe he’s okay with taking fifty-one percent of the blame after all. shit.)

the meat sizzles. loudly. and he notes, mildly, that it’s not very good meat. @chrwoohyun deserves better for their first joint huzzah since his release from prison, but they’ll all have to pass off living paycheck-to-paycheck as indulging in some nostalgia instead. didn’t they bag on this restaurant in high school? how nostalgic!

the meat. it seriously sizzles. 

“—ah, shit. did anyone here like their meat crisp?” it’s black. charred, even. seriously, god? not even an itty-bitty holy ray of divine intervention? fuck god. he plops the meat (or the charcoal? whatever the hell it is) onto his own plate. “oh wait, i did. haha. anyway. been a while since we’ve all been together like this!” 

[chryuhwan]

ik i’m in the middle of plotting with some people (ty btw!! for being patient lul) but i thought i’d drop my discord tag too if you wanted to expedite the process bc i’ll be a lil slow thru this week! please feel free to add sollie#0970 

[chryuhwan]

truth - “what did you do to hurt someone the most?”

"huh. great question. personally, i wouldn't hurt a fly. way too much trouble dealing with all of that negative energy on your hands, you know? how's a guy supposed to sleep at night if he knows he's hurt someone the most?" yuhwan cracks a grin, but considering the conversation, it looks wholly out of place. he mulls it over for a bit—though his answer doesn't change. has he hurt people? sure, but who hasn't? ah, well, even splicing secrets and funneling them to the world is child's play at the end of the day. can't take too much offense when your dirty laundry didn't have to be dirty in the first place! still— "guess i've spilled a couple of secrets. just a couple, though. who knows how important they were? i'm sure some of them might have been a little weightier than others, but que sera, sera, right?"

[chryuhwan]

[chryuhwan]

truth: if you could trade lives with someone, who would it be and why?

"maybe my dad," yuhwan murmurs sagely. he crosses his arms against his chest, eyes squinted like he's really thinking about it. the moment's shattered when he adds: "just to really fuck him over for good. drive the nail in the coffin, y'know? no one likes a half-assed job."

[chryuhwan]

(truth) - What’s your least favorite memory from high school?

"all of it? haha?" he's laughing, but he's not sure why considering he's serious. wholly. then again, yuhwan supposes there were some perks to the otherwise mind-numbing hellscape that was hannam. maybe it wouldn't be fair to be so broad and so general when questions like these almost elicit specificity. so, he amends: "most of it. wasn't really a fan of navigating the social aspect of it, but i hate making trouble for myself. cheeks hurt. a lot of fake smiling. could have done without it, i guess!"

[chryuhwan]

suranchr, 

     ( ... )

    today, however, spells for something different. spells for the presence of another to disturb our spiraling dancer. for a pair of brown eyes, equally surprised, that locks with hers—here, for the briefest of moments, she feels like she can breathe—and suran stops without meaning to, breath caught in her throat. 

     ( ... )

    though, right here and now, from her mouth to her ears it sounded more like a greeting than anything. a it’s been a while, it feels like. a i can’t believe you’re here, left unsaid, yet evident all the same with the matching curve of her lips. 

    “you can’t possibly tell me you’re here to avoid people.” you shouldn’t even be here in the first place.

       fate is an ugly, blistering thing. there he goes, seeking respite the only way he knows how (by rooting out high peaks, where even falling would feel like a lifetime condensed into the blink of an eye); yet here he is, finding something sharper, more jagged in its place. memories are always fickle for yuhwan because sentimentality has felt like a luxury since the second he befriended mapo bridge—

       but right this second, it’s unfair the way his expression softens when she looks at him, meets his gaze, and god, how long has it been since the last time they were face-to-face like this? there’s a warmth, phantomlike, that lingers in a body often cold, before he reminds himself that some reunions only lend themselves to more tragedy in the end. 

       “hah,” he laughs, but it comes out like an exhale—something tired, resigned. he’s stupid for this, he knows, but the little bubble of hope that rises from the bottom of his ribcage only to pop right before it can make it to the tip of his tongue almost deludes him into thinking five years of radio silence were just a figment of his imagination. “so you get nostalgic too, huh?”

       five years of radio silence, of learning to dodge suran’s head not because he wanted to (he wanted to do anything but) but because yuhwan’s never been good at chasing, only good at accepting what comes to him. five years of learning limbo’s winding paths, of learning its boundaries and reminding himself never to blur them. 

       those five years were hardly his imagination. even he’s not so cruel as to punish himself in his daydreams. 

       he can’t hold anything against suran though. never against suran. and maybe he’s stupid for that, too. if there was ever a time to be angry, to be upset, to ask questions, to demand answers—

       well, wouldn’t it be now?

       yuhwan smiles, and it’s unfortunately sincere. if he’s going to be angry, be upset, ask questions, demand answers—it’s not going to be now. maybe it won’t be ever, at this rate. maybe an hour from now, suran smiling at him like she did all of those years ago will be another memory for him to juggle. and maybe that’s all he can really ask for. “i really did come here to avoid people,” he admits, and gingerly, he sidesteps where he’s pressed his back to the door—like he’s leaving her an opening. going to run away again? he doesn’t ask. it’s never going to be his place to. “a lot of chatterboxes in this company. you’d think i’m some bigshot writer with the way they’re trying to cozy up to me.”

       the loose cigarette wobbles up and down with each word he utters, like a pendulum, a see-saw; and how fitting that is. he’s feeling a little up and down himself. probably not battling any fight or flight instinct, seeing as how he’s been waiting—maybe impatiently, maybe patiently—for their serendipitous collision; but his heart feels like it’s rising only to plummet, and repeat.

       he doesn’t want her to leave, but who would he be to make her stay? 

       “if you’re going to leave, lend me a light first?” yuhwan tilts his head up from the pavement, where he’s been engaged in a staring contest with an unmovable fissure. he almost says, for old time’s sake, before deciding that’s too cheesy. almost settles on, you don’t have to leave though, before deciding his sincerity has no place here.

       what he really wants to say, what he really wants to ask is not a variation of what happened or why did you shut me out?

       all he wants to know is this: how have you been?

       (and have these five years treated you as kindly as i hoped?)

[chryuhwan]

hey everyone, thank you for the welcomes again! sorry i’ve been a little slow with ims (i swear i’m getting to them + the truth/dare prompts... which i’ll also be sending out soon) - irl chose the best time to get hectic </3 ty for your patience in advance

idk if this’ll flop or not (so ignore if it does bc im shyyyyy) but in recognition of how slow i am with plotting, mb reply with a color if you want a short random starter instead! if we have the workings of a plot going on in ims, i’ll probably try to get back to you on that first, but it’s open to all as long as ur open to a ~surprise~  CAPPED!!! tysm for replying <3

[chryuhwan]

hello, followers.

things are getting a little dull around here. so, let’s play a good old fashioned game of truth or dare. after all, the only thing more shocking than the truth are the lengths people will dare to go to to cover it up. i’m sure you remember exactly how we play it, but in case you forgot, here are the rules …

xoxo, rose.

Keep reading

[chryuhwan]

, LIFE’S NOT COMPLETE WITHOUT SOME KIND OF HAUNTING ”

       "christ on a fucking stick.” 

       the stairwell’s winding; not the good kind, either, but the dizzying kind. and the smell of cigarette smoke and something acrid feels especially strong the second the door closes behind him. there was a DO NOT ENTER sign abandoned somewhere in yuhwan’s wake, but he can’t bring himself to care. there’s an itch in his teeth, after all. he can’t get any work done at this rate. 

       three steps from the top and he stumbles. his tennis shoes are worn down. come to think of it, they were a gift from his parents, weren’t they? haven’t they heard? give a man a pair of shoes and he’ll walk straight the hell out of your lives! then again—maybe that’s what they wanted.

       hey man, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut. focus. this isn’t the time to unpack. granted, it’s never the time to unpack. but right now, right this second, it’s especially not the time for letting his thoughts wander. mental olympics are his forte and in the summer, winter, fall, and spring, all he brings home are golds when it comes to running cyclical hypotheticals—but not now. not when there’s money on the line.

       the door to the rooftop’s unsecured, a broken chain dangling from pristine handles. he doesn’t think much about it when he shoves it open, and the humid air of seoul’s summers is hardly refreshing or crisp (sometimes, he pretends he can taste the light pollution—he imagines it’s what la croix tastes like) but it’s one hundred times better than trying to navigate a conversation with a bunch of two-faced people trying to curry favor with his pen and paper. 

       ah, well. he’s two-faced too. but two’s a crowd. three might as well be an apocalypse.

       behind him, the door clatters to a close. yuhwan presses his back to it and shuts his eyes again. breathes in. out. he mutters the national anthem under his breath like a mantra. meditation. zen. he’s doing this for money. never mind the fact that sometimes, when work sends him to report on real news, it feels like he’s navigating hannam all over again. he prefers the sensationalism; prefers speculating about whether person A did fucked up thing B or why person C screwed person D and all of their ancestors over. when he’s forced to show up somewhere with only the truth to confront—only the truth, raw and unadulterated—it’s too boring, too stifling, and he’s not into it.

       “fuck,” he sighs out again. the tip of his shoe feels worn, but the dull pain kind of draws him back into himself. god, this blows. and when he reaches, blindly, for a pack of cigarettes only to find he doesn’t have a lighter, he thinks, well, at least things can only look up from here.

       and looking up from here happens in a one-two step:

       first, he opens his eyes.

       second, he realizes he’s not alone.

       and because one’s lonely, two’s company, and three’s so contrary it might as well be right—

       third, he locks gazes with someone all-too familiar. and he really shouldn’t be so simple-minded, but the way the sun’s setting casts an orange curtain on ( SURAN )'s face—timed so perfectly that it almost feels so cinematic. 

       an unlit cigarette dangles from the corner of his mouth. he’d laugh, but he doesn’t want to waste a perfectly good cigarette. 

       “sorry,” he says, the curl of his lips too easy. “didn’t mean to interrupt. pretend i’m not here?”

[chryuhwan]

helloooo i’m sol (21+, they/them) and this is yuhwan. he’s an old oc revamped too many times so if he seems familiar... my b dude i’m attached i guess. anyway, i’m excited to be here! please like this post if you’re interested in plotting and i’ll hit you up. i’m not on twitter and pretty sparse on discord, so i prefer tumblr im! but if that’s difficult for you, we can figure smth out! i have a short (haha) tl;dr under the cut, but you can also read up more on his BIO and PROFILE pages.

RUNDOWN

TRIGGER & CONTENT WARNINGS: physical abuse, underage drug/alcohol consumption, (attempted) suicide (lmk if you want a redacted summary!) 

BASICS — born and raised in busan up until the tender age of seventeen, when he was sent (“exiled”) to seoul to live with his aunt and uncle and attend hannam. the catalyst was a rebellious phase turned lifestyle (a lot of really reckless decisions involving drugs, alcohol, vandalism, swiping money from the tithes & offerings, u name it) and his parents deciding they a) didn’t want to deal with that and b) didn’t want that to reflect on their reputations. he’s been in seoul ever since and has never stayed in busan for longer than a couple of days.

ON RELIGION & FAITH — the only son of the head pastor of a well-known megachurch in busan, yuhwan was raised under the strict and watchful eye of his obsessive parents! he’s not religious anymore by any means, but faith (or his lack thereof) has shaped a huge part of his mentality. his lack of belief in a higher power is the foundation of his ‘if i have the confidence to own up to the potential consequences of my actions, then i’ll do whatever i want to’ mindset. he’s not going to be discouraged by a god that doesn’t exist! 

ON SEOUL — hates it. yep. he hates seoul, but he doesn’t really have the drive to try to find somewhere he does like because he hates busan too. when he was sent to live with his aunt and uncle, he was treated pretty poorly (still flinches when people raise their hand at him), like a glorified punching bag. hannam wasn’t any better, and the military was nice in the way prison cells might be. he hates cramped things and the only decent jogging path he knows runs him right by the bridge he almost jumped off of after his military service ended so. you know. you win some, you lose some. 

ON HANNAM — hated it. yep. straight up hated it. he was pretty good about being friendly around virtually anyone who held his attention for more than a couple of seconds, but yuhwan hates the idea of hierarchies! finds them downright stifling, and he doesn’t like the idea of being placed in a box, etc. hannam felt like an oppressive social pyramid and he thought that kinda sucked so as friendly as he was on the outside, he had zero interest in making friends and has probably only willingly kept in touch with a handful of people since graduating. 

ON GOSSIPS, RUMORS, AND SECRETS — he’s a tabloid writer. once a regular editor for a small newspaper, he gave that up and decided to sacrifice his morals for a higher paycheck. he blames his mom because she, as the pastor’s wife, had a lot of access to juicy gossip and liked to tell yuhwan about it. yuhwan’s probably the least trustworthy person he knows. he’s careful to keep the secrets of people he cares about, but as it turns out, he doesn’t really care about that many people. he’s friendly, open to listening, and honestly not that bad at giving advice etc., but be on your guard. wouldn’t want your dirty laundry to be aired out for the world to see, after all. 

ON THE PRESENT — he’s minding his own business. really. like i said, he’s probably kept in touch with some people, but otherwise he’s not really interested in the busy lives of almost-strangers unless they’re going to get him a bonus on his next paycheck. yuhwan very much so marches to the beat of his own drum. he doesn’t care much about the world around him and only cares when it inconveniences him. like a kite without a string, he’s floating wherever the fuck the wind’s going to take him!

ON HIS SECRET — after graduating from high school, and then university, and then finishing military service, yuhwan thought he might literally lose his fucking mind if he didn’t set himself free in one way or another. ultimately, he decides he won’t be able to coexist in peace with his parents unless they change. and because they won’t change of their own volition, he submits an anonymous tip about his father’s embezzlement of church funds. in the end, it doesn’t destroy his dad’s legacy or anything; the church is still up and running—but it’s an ordeal that takes months, years of being humbled by the weight of the world. he doesn’t feel bad about it. his mom gossips less and his dad’s less of an asshole, after all. makes family gatherings that much more bearable when they’re all tired of existing!

CONNECTIONS

BEST FRIEND — just one. no dramatic childhood friends story or anything like that. just one person he actually really genuinely sincereeeeeely liked from hannam that didn’t take any effort or slow build to figure out. probably the only person he really trusts in this big, bad city. you’ve got a huge weapon in your hands! he’s not used to putting this much trust in others. (+1000 if in a two-day relationship that ended terribly. ‘i would never date you again, but i’ll still die for u’ kinda vibes) 

HANNAM FRIENDS — there won’t be many, but! anyone? anyone?? he was a friendly, easygoing person (still is, tbh) during his hannam days, but was definitely a free spirit who did whatever he wanted. if you could keep up with his pace, then he might have liked your company. he’s not a fan of overly serious people unless they have the patience of a saint! (trust me, you’ll need it.) 

HANNAM... NOT FRIENDS — he’s not so conscious of his surroundings as to have enemies himself, but he definitely did get pushed around for a little while when he was first getting settled. and he’s also definitely spoken out of turn and said some rude shit (not on purpose) (he just doesn’t have a filter) here and there. want to hate his guts? please do. negative energy’s welcome in this house!

COUSIN — a similar-aged cousin, also the child of the aunt and uncle yuhwan absolutely fucking abhors. they might have a contentious relationship. might even be a positive one. either way, they lived under the same roof for a few years! 

TABLOID VICTIM — got a little fame to your name? have a nasty scandal you didn’t want to get out? well, now it’s out. and sensationalized, too! maybe you know it’s him who leaked it (and wrote the article, while we’re at it). maybe you don’t! 

BUSAN BUDDIES — and i use the word ‘buddies’ loosely. grow up in busan? have religious parents? religious yourself maybe? well, maybe you bumped into each other then. yuhwan had the reputation of being a prim and proper pastor’s son, amiable and cheerful and so so devoted, up until he was suddenly sent to seoul. all of his bad habits and reckless adventures were largely done behind his parents’ backs (until he got caught, at least!)—you know of them? partake in them, maybe? or maybe you didn’t know, and you’re wondering why the fuck he came to seoul in the first place

BLACKMAIL — he’s not above using underhanded tactics if they’re made available to him. sometimes he doesn’t even need a big reason. maybe he found out a secret of yours and he wants a secret you know about someone else. he’ll hold it over your head! call it a little game of cat and mouse!

[chryuhwan]

Once, I saw a bee drown in honey, and I understood

 Nikos Kazantzakis,” Report to Greco”