hellu it's gloss here ( 21+, s/h ) bringing u the lean, mean 2-timin machine kwon hyunsik!! he's ur back to reality / voted off the island skele and is a major league baseball player who's currently suspended for the szn bc of his quote unquote villain era 🫣 i've got his bio somewhere on my page but it's written in prose so for a less? more? brainrotted version u can find out more ab him under the cut ( tw: infidelity & bullying ) but yeah pls hit that like button to plot im beggin on my knees!! i also have d*scord if u'd like ♡

"what the hell," is the first sentence that falls past her lips upon after meeting hyunsik at the entrance of her place, mahogany hues giving a once over of his outfit of choice, "that's the best you could do? we were told we could go all out and all you got is a basic ass suit and mask? what are you supposed to be anyway?" shiah questions with a hand on her hip. then again, comes to remember that men's fashion pales in comparison to women's, one of the reasons that vana gloria continues to only serve women as their target demographic. despite it all he does look good, always a fine specimen to be caught walking in together with, but it's not like she could actually tell him that to his face; they've known each other long enough that he could probably feel that sentiment underneath the rugged nature of her words anyway. leaving the door open for him to follow through, she moves into the dining area where shots are already prepared the taking. "wait," she starts, pausing before turning in his direction again, a manicured finger pointing at the small package within his hand, "that's not what i think it is, right. is that for me?"

—

perhaps hyunsik is hardly as bad as they say. dissect him down to his bare bones and you’ll find that he’s just like every other kid trying to make his parents proud. it’s why he’s here, corsage of red roses in hand because he’s dressed to the nines for some no-name club, so his parents still think he’s seventeen again asking some girl out to a high school ball. and who better than kang shiah, the first girl he’s technically brought home and therefore, the daughter-in-law of their dreams? it’s an odd pick on their part, he admits. after all, she’s dressed as the devil himself. “i’m you,” he deadpans. as in, the king of the underworld. as in, ironic for someone who’s trying to convince the masses that he’s hardly as bad as they say, “…without the theatrics.” she moves and he thinks to hand her the corsage, feels his wrist flutter at the thought, and he realises then that he’s nervous. almost in a way that seems out of place for the type of friendship they share, until she points at the offending item and ah, he suddenly realises why. groans out the, “i need a drink,” as he marches past her, corsage still firmly in his grip. he downs the first shot he sees, reaches for the second one and he brings it close to his lips, almost as though he’s too busy drinking to explain the whats and whys of the gift. simply slides it to her along the table’s surface. “put it on,” he commands, skulls the second shot, “my mom wants picture evidence.”

this is a story of boy meets girl, except he’s not that boy, and she’s not that girl. because yeju is nothing like the sort to sit in quiet corners of a coffee shop, and hyunsik’s hardly the sort to read. instead, theirs is a story of boy meets girl; as in girl, whose house he leaves at dawn wearing last night’s clothes, before he makes his trek to the coffee shop. as in girl, who he’s busy fucking while his high school girlfriend is waiting for his text. as in girl, who he bumps into at a masquerade party when he’s dressed as the devil and she, the siren whose song lures sailors to his very doorstep.

( and yet. there’s something about the way he’s staring. vestiges of a pocket of space existing just outside their own. hidden on the third floor of the apartment across the block: two rocking chairs. )

but he’s not that boy, so he snaps out of it before the cue for the coy smiles. realises he’s been staring at her long enough that he can’t just walk away, so instead, a “hi…” a, “do i—” know her? the memory of her is a man balanced precariously on the edge of the cliff he calls his tongue, narrowly and fruitlessly avoiding the plunge before he’s suddenly pushed. and here it comes, rushing. like the image of her on top of him, moonlight dancing along her naked collarbone. like one of gossip girl’s posts that he’d scrolled past, barely registering in his mind as he’s busy looking for more of his. like rumours of a child.

“yeju.” it falls past his lips like a breath. and perhaps it’s what he needs to regain his composure, manifesting as the polite smile he quickly dons, “it’s been… forever.”

( ... ) seryung takes the bowl sitting across the table and settles beside hyunsik, instead. she sits on the dining chair, facing sideways, and crosses one leg over the other. tugging at his wrist gently before picking up the spoon and starting to eat. "mmh," she hums, majorly pleased and slightly surprised. "i didn't know you cook," she says, laughing lightly. like she knows anything about him, like she wants to know everything about him. she busies herself with a few more spoonfuls, suddenly realizing she hasn't eaten anything in two days. seryung looks back at him. she swings her ankle slightly, tapping the back of his leg playfully. hopeful, "did you have fun last night?"

there is a word for people like her. the kinds of people to leave a trail of flowers blooming in the indents of the footsteps she leaves in the sand. careless, perhaps. naïve to the point of being offensively ignorant. hyunsik calls it power. indeed, from the airy chuckle she lets out, to the way her fingers graze his arm. he thinks it must be so easy to get lost in her. it’s so easy that he does. now, he’s escaped to a lush field of lilies, sandalwood, and strawberry bushes, yet all he cares to look at is her. smiling from the way she’s touching him and the way she’s laughing, till he notices his cheeks starting to hurt.

“there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he quips, inflection hopeful, “and a lot i don’t know about you.” like he wants to know everything about her. a careful, “but what i do know is you seemed to have a lot of fun last night, and i had a lot of fun watching you.” and it’s not enough that she’s enjoying the broth he’s made. ever the perfectionist, he doesn’t let himself settle until he tastes it for himself. gives it an approving nod only when it’s deserved, and only then does he drop his shoulders and lean back into his seat.

fine, then. he digs. he digs, and digs, and digs, until— “you’re up.”

im seryung. bright and early in the morning yet she roams as a ghost in last night’s dress, and suddenly, he realises why gossip girl, along with all of seoul, are so obsessed with her. she brings the light, and in this way, he reminds himself that there is still a plan.

“don’t worry, i haven’t kidnapped or done anything to you,” his tone is casual and he greets her with a teasing smile he supposes is meant to reassure her, “door’s that way if you have somewhere else you need to be.” a beat. “but uh…” he turns away from her and back to the stove, brings that spoon now to his lips to taste and when he’s happy, he turns the fire off and scoops the broth he’s made into smaller bowls. just as some girl had done for him a couple years back. “if you’re interested,” there is a cloth hung on his right shoulder that he wipes his hands with, tosses it onto the kitchen island and he carries and sets the bowls across each other on the dining table, “i made some hangover soup and i was hoping you’d stay.”

he crosses his arms atop the backrest of his chair and there is a sigh to follow, one to betray that he’s spent all morning making sure he’d gotten the recipe just right. as if to say that he’d done all of this for her. ( all to indicate that he’d dug all through the night, as he’d done every other night, and finally there’s an opening, and on the other side of that opening is unmistakeably and irrevocably im seryung. ) “for the soup, of course,” he jests, and his intentions are as thinly veiled as the pretty gold lace of her bodice, “never for me.”

SAINTS & SINNERS, YOU DECIDE kwon hyunsik is LUCIFER BEFORE THE FALL