make it mine

                                                         🔥 

                          YOU LIVE IN THE HWASEONG HOUSE LONG ENOUGH                                AND YOU THINK YOU'RE ON TOP OF THE WORLD.

but that’s—unsurprising—not unheard of when hwaseong houses the best of the best (in his very valid opinion). egos tend to fly sky high and so far, no one has proven eugene wrong. least, none he’d care to keep track of (so, you know, doesn’t fucking count). today is no different—even if it is just a laid-back carnival meant for fun—when there’s competition (pride and bragging rights altogether) on the line, it’s unsurprising that hwaseong kids (bullheaded, competitive, driven types) are the first to step to the challenge. 

even if often times it’s against each other.

case in point is tonight’s highlight, eugene eom and saelim nisa. names ever so often spoken in conjunction: between sheets and the dueling club room and moans and swears and day to day pleasantries. names that don’t hold much meaning otherwise; besides dueling and fucking and bickering, what else was there? emotional connection? a tender touch upon issues neither have interest in sharing? yeah right.

at least right now, what’s shared between them proves to only be the need to win. or, even just, not losing first.

“’IGHT” he slams the empty glass down, eyes narrowing at the girl across from him. the back of his throat bubbles in protest and eugene belches without much thought or care to one’s impression. damn, does it fucking matter? when they’re already here. “are you really not going to give up?” gene lifts off his seat slightly to lean forward, boyish grin taking to his face. intimidation tactic #43. thus far, nisa and him have been neck to neck. though he has confidence (mind you, i’m never sure where the so-called confidence stems from) that he could easily topple her over.

                                               “what are you gonna give me when i win again?”

miyoung always has had an eye for adventure.  it is the whole reason she’s gotten herself in trouble for the very first time back in mniddle school,  the whole reason she can ever just sit still and do absolutely nothing,  the whole reason she has trouble obeying any set of rules,  even if she tries to most of the time.  she hates the feeling of being restricted,  despises boredom even more.  as someone who believes sleeping is meant to be done when death knocks at the door and not at night,  night time is mostly the time she finds herself going on little trips the faculty won’t welcome if they were ever to find out.  not that they ever will.

luckily she’s not alone,  makes this night even more exciting.  miyoung and eugene blend in wonderfully with the dark surroundings clad in nothing but black from head to toe,  much like modern ninjas.  except they’re armed with wands and potions instead of shuriken.  pretty cool,  if you ask her.  “i think we’ll have to take care of these guys over there.”  her head nods very slyly and very slowly at two men guarding the path to their destination – the haunted trophy room.  she knows he won’t shy away from using his abilities to get them to their goal,  much she would never,  either.  

fingers wrap themselves around her wand and she’s ready to cast a charm to distract them if needed,  believe that perhaps a curse will work better when it’s more than one person.  “do you wanna do it or shall i?”  she asks,  voice quiet enough to not be heard by anyone other than ninja eugene.  there is no way she is going to let them fail this mission,  nor will they be retreating.  failure is not an option in this case.  actually,  it is never an option in her book. 

                                                           MY HEARTS ICED OVER                                                                I FOUND A NEW OWNER

                                      ((ICANTDIEANYSLOWERTHANTHIS))

                                                                    🔥

                                                 WHAT MAKES A HUMAN?

philosophers theorize. poets prose. scientists are definite. a person is human because their heart beats. because they can think of alternative outcomes and make decisions accordingly. because they have morals. because they are more than animalistic instincts. eugene eom is a human because—because what?—what makes him human? because he’s alive. well, what makes him alive? 

                                                                                                  good question.                                           WHAT MAKES EUGENE EOM ALIVE? 

—when the useless thing in his heart does nothing but beat at a stagnant resting pace. when he is forcibly grounded; wings plucked, scar ridden, hole in his chest. when he inevitably slows to a stop and his skin crawls, his bones quake, his stomach quivers in unease; from flicker flame a dying ember. what makes him—alive? human? 

the answer, though clear, is never one fondly looked upon. who would—when his proof of life lies on the premise of pure unadulterated adrenaline rushes? when the only way you know (eugene claims) you’re alive is to thrust your body in imminent danger. when the way you’re alive is when your heart is pounding, screaming against its ivory cage—head rush and all. that’s how you know. exhilaration. anything else falls short. 

it is that particular sort of reckless unraveling that lands him in less than favorable positions with the professors of mokseong. much less his dad, but fuck, since when has he ever cared? but it’s beyond the point, the point now (now, as in right this very moment, away from the sporadic train of musings within the inner workings of eugene’s brain, and more so rooted in his person: in reality), now he stands to cost the house another couple hundred points for the sake of feeling—a smidge less dead.

                                                                                                     thankfully, he isn’t in it alone.

gyeon miyoung and he often treads the line. teeters on the brink of doing too much, be it with the obvious disregard for school rules or their volatile treatment of each other (friends one moment, enemies a blink longer). though that too, is a frequent happening between two skulls that are far more alike than they’d like to admit. eugene especially, would abhor the notion of even considering it. but still, for an on-and-off partner in crime—she’s not all that bad.

“naaaaah, really?!” he drawls out, a careless stage whisper just barely the acceptable decibel for a stealth “mission” like this. but, whatever. if they get caught, that’s even more fun. hands in his pockets, eugene is remarkably lax in comparison to his companion, leaning to his side to eye the security guards patrolling a ways down the hall. huh. unlucky pair. “i’ll do it,” he brandishes his wand, taking proper aim at the two before muttering: locomotor mortis! 

and with that, comes the toppling of squabbling twin towers—a laughable sight to behold (mind you, he did laugh), but priorities. “cmon.” eugene grasps her elbow and tugs her from behind the wall, hopping out of arms reach from the two on the floor as he speeds past them. 

                                             TOO FAST ((AFRAID TO COMBUST                                                                    & AFRAID I WON’T))

                                                                   🔥

                  IF YOU KNOW HIM, YOU KNOW HE IS CONSTANTLY—BURNING.  that eugene eom is, at his very core, consumed by fire. driven by passion. flicker flame that burns bright, white hot; all encompassing. that he is but a scalding touch, seething tongue, ash ridden throat. that he is wayward bound, impetuous embodied, and astoundingly turbulent. that it matters little to the world to be nice, friendly, engaging when not a lick of compassion exists within the hearth of his chest. all pretenses and very little heart, this guy.

                                                            say with me: a wild, rocky ride straight to hell. 

if you know him know him, you’d know that his degree of recklessness trickles down to a lack of self preservation. that’ll he’d any day douse himself in gasoline and set oneself aflame—faster, brighter, quicker than the human eye—uncaring if you burn with him. that he is a taker rather than a giver. that he’d sooner take, take, take, and take from any willing being—thoroughly impenitent—than offer a morsel of himself. but, that’s eugene for you. greedy, gluttonous; voracious is the mouth that eats and eats. gorges to fill the dead mother-sized hole in his chest. or the absentee father-sized hole. either or. 

                                               BUT IT’S NEVER ENOUGH.                                                OR IT NEVER LASTS,                                                SO HE NEVER RESTS.                                       

with elissa, it is slightly different but still the same. it is the act of giving up a piece of him. it is breaking ties between them staggeringly messy and not speaking months after. it is seeing her again after swearing to cast her and her smile and her touch and her voice out of his brain forever. it is the two years of push and pull—in which elissa bites and he bites back. like a dog with a bone, chasing at her coattails. or was it the other way around?

it is how they are now, fated—no, fuck that—trapped in a school project together. as if hearing eugene eom and elissa chwe used in conjunction was not enough to rot his mood for the week. he sits now, knee bouncing under the table and brows knitted in predisposed agitation. to think, he had been so worked up (over antagonizing in his head? check. kicking his covers at night? check) and she hadn’t even spared the decency of arriving on time. 

                typical.  

he redirects his attention to his phone, lips twisted into a thin frown whilist he scrolls uselessly through social media. maybe he should’ve skipped out as well. though, as luck would have it (literally, he wouldn’t have wasted a breath longer waiting), the chair across from him slides back. and eugene could hardly contain the vexation that crosses boyish features, eyes lifting to meet hers.

“you’re late.” his eyes roll. “suddenly you can’t tell time or something?”

eeeee i was so excited for this i drafted my intro early—but hi, hello, i’m excited to meet you all!! this is eugene, gene, eggy, w/e—hwaseong 2nd yr and also co-captain of the boxing club and member of the duelling club! you can find his profile here but i’ll write some tldr under the cut!! anyway, pls pls smash that like to plot! i have discord (and recently made a twt???) if the ims aren’t ideal!