everwhovian

[everwhovian]

what remains. | Hwang brothers

Part 1 | next part | masterlist

Part 27: Forming an alliance, a team

That night, In-ho went back to his bunk, expecting silence.

He sat, back against the cold metal bars, muscles aching, mind already sorting through the possibilities of what came next.

The games weren’t over. The numbers were still too high.

Winning today didn’t mean anything for tomorrow.

He knew that.

And yet, something was different now.

He had seen death before. He had stood over crime scenes, traced the outlines of bodies, and felt the weight of someone’s last breath lingering in the air.

But this was different.

There were no investigations. No justice. No one coming to help.

Just a game.

And it wasn’t about doing what was right. It was about staying alive.

He had thought he would hold onto his principles. That the uniform he once wore, the badge he once carried, still meant something.

But here, in this place, those things were just as meaningless as the numbers stamped on their uniforms.

A shadow moved in his periphery.

062.

Of course.

But he wasn’t grinning this time.

He wasn’t bouncing onto the bunk like usual, wasn’t brimming with restless energy, wasn’t talking before he even sat down.

Instead, he moved slower.

Less like a kid too eager for his own good, more like someone who had finally understood exactly where they were.

He sat down onto the steps next to In-ho, but this time, he didn’t lean back, didn’t rock on his hands, didn’t start rambling right away.

For a long moment, he was just quiet.

And for the first time, In-ho didn’t know if it was intentional.

“Not bad,” 062 finally said, voice lighter than it should have been. “Think we make a good team?”

It wasn’t his usual cocky grin. It wasn’t the easy confidence he had carried before. It was something more forced. More deliberate. Like he was trying to reset himself.

Like he didn’t want to sit in the silence any longer.

In-ho didn’t answer.

He expected 062 to push like he always did. To joke, to fill the space, to keep talking like the walls around them weren’t closing in.

And he did.

But it wasn’t the same.

“Seriously though,” 062 continued, stretching his arms behind his head, though the motion wasn’t quite as relaxed as before. “I was a little worried about 184 for a second, but damn, she really pulled through.”

“I heard that,” 184 muttered as she passed by, stopping at the bunk.

062 just grinned at her, but even that felt off. Smaller. “You were great. Really. Not even lying.”

She scoffed but didn’t argue.

Another shadow.

009 sat down a few feet away, his usual quiet presence settling in like it belonged. No words. No acknowledgment. Just silent agreement.

And just like that: A team.

Not by choice. Not by trust.

But by necessity.

By survival.

062 stretched again, tilting his head toward In-ho. “You know, for a guy who barely talks, you sure have a way of keeping people around.”

In-ho rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who followed me.”

062 snorted softly. “You pulled me back, remember?” He tapped his chest, but there was no real humor in it. No teasing smirk. “Kinda hard to ignore a guy who saved my life. Twice.”

“Mm,” 009 grunted, nodding slightly, as if to say ‘fair point.’

This time, 062 focused his attention on 009, nudging him. “So,” he said, tilting his head, “You ever play that game before? Back when it wasn’t, y’know, murder?”

009 blinked at him. Slowly. “When I was a kid,” he said flatly.

062 hummed, considering that. “Bet you were a tank even back then.”

009 gave a slight, amused exhale. “I was scrawny. Didn’t fill out until I was eighteen.”

062 snorted. “Can’t imagine that.” He gestured vaguely to 009’s broad frame. “What’d you eat? Weights?”

009 didn’t respond right away, just raised an eyebrow. Then, after a beat, he muttered, “Steamed rice.”

The kid blinked, then let out a genuine laugh.

And just like that, he was back to being himself – laughing, chatting, nudging his way into the group like nothing had happened at all. He kept talking, his words more natural, less forced.

While 062’s voice filled the space, 184 let out a quiet breath, lowering herself onto the cot across from In-ho.

“You’ve got that look.”

In-ho’s brows furrowed slightly. “What look?”

She tilted her head, studying him. “The one people get when they start thinking this might not be temporary.���

His chest tightened.

Because she was right.

For the first round, it had felt like survival was just a delay. Something borrowed. A countdown waiting to hit zero.

But now?

Now, they had formed an alliance.

A team.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said finally, voice quiet. “That doesn’t mean anything here.”

184 huffed softly. “It means everything, Detective.”

His spine stiffened at that. He turned his head slightly, catching the glint of something sharp in her gaze. She wasn’t guessing.

Before In-ho could respond, he heard a rustle, and 062 plopped down next to him, looking excited. His eyes were wide, alert, studying them both.

“Wait… you’re a cop?” 062’s grin widened, but there was something sharp beneath it. “That makes so much sense.”

In-ho exhaled sharply through his nose. “What does that mean?”

“Y’know,” 062 shrugged, “all serious, no-nonsense, probably terrible at parties.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t like parties,” 184 mused, smirking slightly.

“You don’t like parties, hyung?” 062 asked, nudging his foot against In-ho’s leg.

In-ho’s eyebrow twitched. “Young-il.”

The moment he said it, the kid blinked. “Yeah?”

“Shut up,” In-ho muttered.

The kid laughed, his eyes crinkling.

009 huffed something that almost sounded like amusement. 184 smirked, shaking her head.

The conversation drifted after that – 062 talked about something dumb, something from before the games, some story about his little brother getting into trouble at school. 184 asked a few questions, keeping the flow going, keeping things from feeling too heavy. 009 barely spoke, but when he nodded, when he made a small sound of acknowledgment, it was enough.

And somehow, despite everything, In-ho found himself listening.

Relaxing.

Not fully.

Not completely.

But for a little while, just for this moment, he let himself exist there.

In the space between survival and something else.

And when the kid nudged him again, grinning like an idiot, In-ho didn’t shove him away.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ○△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Part 1 | next part | masterlist

[everwhovian]

getting attached to player 062 in the fanfic uh oh </3

So real!!!

Even I'm growing attached to player 062... all of them, to be honest 😭

And In-ho definitely sees Jun-ho in 062! I have something very, very evil planned! And 062 will haunt the narrative!!

For now, they are happy, though! Let's see how long it lasts...

[everwhovian]

Season 3 hwang brothers predictions?

Ohhhhhhh! Anon, this can go either way.... for my own sanity, I really hope they get a happy ending. Jun-ho manages to get to In-ho, In-ho turns against the games, and they're reunited and just finally happy again!

Realistic predictions, though?

I fear one or both will die... I don't think they will get a happy ending, definitely more hurt/no comfort...

So far they're mirror images of each other (I actually read this somewhere here on Tumblr but I don't remember whose blog it was)

In-ho gave his brother a kidney - they both share the scar

Jun-ho shot In-ho, In-ho shot Jun-ho - they both share a scar

So... what if only one of them dies? First of all it will BREAK me! Just imagine In-ho standing over Jun-ho's body, falling to his knees cause that's his baby brother, then turning against the games, sacrificing himself now that he has NOTHING left

Okay, in this version, they both die... but... honestly? It would work...

The first human emotions from the front man we saw in s1 was after he had to shoot Jun-ho. That was the breaking point.

If Jun-ho dies first... In-ho loses his last connection to humanity!! What if he goes rogue, taking down as many people as possible in like a suicidal mission against the games

So... it would be fitting to let it all end with Jun-ho, too.

But if In-ho dies... especially before Jun-ho and In-ho are reunited and get a chance to TALK... I don't wanna witness Jun-ho's guilt, desperation, etc... cause his whole arc was to find and save his brother

Everything about them is just so TRAGIC

Give them a happy ending... PLEASE

[everwhovian]

what remains. | Hwang brothers

(Warning: squid game typical violence, background character death)

Part 1 | next part | masterlist

Part 26: Biseokchigi

The first time 062 sat next to him at breakfast, In-ho had barely acknowledged it.

He had tried, at least.

But the kid had a way of making himself known. A quiet persistence, an easy grin, the kind of presence that settled in like it had always belonged.

Like this wasn’t a game.

Like this wasn’t life or death.

Like they weren’t already running out of time.

In-ho had ignored him at first. He hadn’t engaged, hadn’t looked, hadn't given the boy any reason to think he was welcome.

But 062 didn’t leave.

He ate like someone who had spent too long being hungry. Quick, efficient bites, every movement calculated – not frantic, but intentional. Like he had learned the hard way that food wasn’t something to waste.

Between bites, he talked.

Not much. Just little comments. Observations. Things that didn’t matter, but for some reason, he still said them.

“Coffee would be nice.”

“I miss instant ramen.”

“Do you think they’re watching us eat?”

In-ho barely reacted. He kept his focus on his food, on the distant hum of the facility, on anything except the boy beside him. In-ho’s thoughts were elsewhere. On the games. On the possibility of numbers thinning out. On the fact that this kid had already stuck to him longer than he should have.

It was a mistake.

He knew that.

The announcement came just after breakfast. “For the next game, players must form teams of four.”

The murmurs began immediately. Strategies whispered. Trust questioned. But 062 moved before the rest.

Without hesitation, he grabbed In-ho’s wrist.

Like it had never been a question.

Like it had already been decided.

And In-ho –

He let him.

Because it wasn’t just the games anymore.

It was the memory of Jun-ho, sitting across from him at the breakfast table when he was a kid, shoveling rice into his mouth and complaining about school. It was Yuna, pressing his palm against her stomach, guiding his hand to get used to the the faintest idea of life beneath her skin.

It was all the things he might lose.

And for a moment – just a moment – he let himself hold on to something.

“Two more,” he muttered.

062’s eyes flicked over the room, scanning the crowd with sharp instinct. He grinned, gesturing toward a familiar figure. “What about him?”

Before In-ho could stop him, he waved someone over.

009.

The man hesitated only a second before nodding. Tall. Broad. The kind of man who understood how to pick his battles.

Smart. Useful.

And now, theirs.

The fourth player joined shortly after – 184.

Sharp-eyed. Quiet. But there was something calculated in her silence. She didn’t ask questions. Didn’t hesitate. Just took the space they made for her and made it her own.

Their team was set.

And yet, when the game was announced…

In a different world, it was a simple game. Kids in dusty playgrounds flicking pebbles at an upright stone, trying to knock it over. Hit the stone, reset it, don’t get caught before you do.

But here, there were no pebbles. No playground. No laughter.

Instead, the arena was massive. A dirt-covered court with two metal cylinders balanced upright in the center. Each team had their cylinder to protect and the other to knock over.

On the opposite side, four more players stood at attention – their opponents.

A guard’s voice rang out: “You have five minutes. Knock down the opposing team’s cylinder. Defend your own. Any players who fail to reset their stone before being tagged – will be eliminated.”

Eliminated.

The word settled in his chest like a weight.

No one spoke at first. The tension sat heavy between them, unspoken but understood.

Two attackers.

Two defenders.

One shot at survival.

In-ho wasn’t sure who exhaled first, but 062 let out a slow whistle. “Shit. That’s brutal. So… who’s doing what?”

“I’ll defend,” 009 said flatly, cracking his knuckles. His voice was steady, grounded. Like he had already made up his mind before the question was even asked.

184 nodded once. “I’ll defend too. We need someone fast to reset the cylinder, and I’m quicker than you,” she told 009 and shrugged. It wasn’t a brag – just a fact.

062 grinned, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Restless, energy coiled tight beneath his skin. “Guess that means we’re on offense, huh?” He nudged In-ho’s shoulder. “I can work with that.”

In-ho didn’t react right away. His gaze had already drifted to the opposing team, studying them – not just looking, but noticing.

The way one man shifted his weight unevenly, adjusting his stance too often – uncertain.

The way another gripped a disc too tightly, tension in his fingers – nervous.

The way their tallest player stood like he was used to relying on brute strength rather than precision.

Years as a detective had trained him for this. Trained him to spot the cracks. The signs of weakness. The little habits that revealed too much.

One of their opponents was impatient, eyes flicking between the cylinder and the disc pile, likely to make the first reckless move.

Little things. Subtle tells. But enough.

He let out a slow breath. If they played this right, they could control the pace of the game before the other team even realized what was happening.

“Fine,” In-ho muttered, rolling his shoulders.

062 clapped his hands together, grinning. “Alright then… should we come up with a strategy or just wing it?”

009 levelled him with a stare. “Don’t die. That’s the strategy.”

184 smirked. “And don’t miss.”

062’s grin widened. “No promises.”

A sharp buzzer rang through the air. The game had begun.

062 was already moving.

He sprinted toward the first metal disc, his footsteps echoing in the open space. His fingers curled around the cool, heavy edge.

On the opposite side, the enemy defenders braced themselves in front of their cylinder.

A flicker of hesitation. A fraction of a second. But then, 062 grinned and launched the disc forward.

CLANG.

The metal slammed into the ground, missing the enemy cylinder by inches.

“Damn,” 062 muttered.

A counterattack came almost instantly.

One of the enemy attackers grabbed a disc, whipping it forward with practiced precision. It cut through the air, spinning fast – too fast –

Straight toward the kid.

In-ho saw it.

He barely had time to grab 062, a sharp yank on the back of his track suit, pulling him out of the way as a disc came flying through the air, smashing into the dirt where the kid had been standing.

Dust flew. A close call. Too close.

062 stumbled, breathless, wide-eyed. “Shit –“ he cursed, looking back at the impact.

In-ho’s grip was still tight. Too tight.

He let go.

“Watch where you’re going,” In-ho snapped. His voice came out sharper than he had intended, but he didn’t regret it. He was too used to reckless idiots getting themselves killed. Too used to seeing Jun-ho run headfirst into things without thinking.

But 062 just grinned, breath still unsteady, as if he wasn’t just inches away from death. “You’re watching out for me, though.”

In-ho exhaled sharply, but didn’t argue. Because it was true. Even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Now, it was In-ho’s turn. He stepped forward, lifting a disc. It was heavier than he expected. His fingers flexed. His stance shifted.

He aimed.

And threw.

The disc cut through the air in a clean arc.

CRACK.

It hit.

Not a perfect hit – not enough to knock the cylinder over completely – but enough to send it tilting to one side.

The enemy team’s defenders rushed to reset it.

And they made a mistake. One of them, a wiry-looking man, stepped too far from his zone. Open. Vulnerable. Exposed.

And 062 saw it. Without hesitation, he bolted forward. The man barely had time to react before 062’s hand slammed against his back.

“Got you.”

The man froze. A moment of silence. Then –

A sharp, mechanical sound of a gunshot.

The man collapsed where he stood. A red stain spread across his chest. Dead.

062 didn’t move. His arm was still outstretched. Fingers still hovering in the air, like the moment hadn’t finished passing yet. Like if he stood there long enough, the body on the ground might sit back up.

For the first time, In-ho saw the kid still.

Saw him frozen, saw him staring, saw the way his chest wasn’t rising properly, wasn’t breathing right.

This wasn’t like the first game, where bodies fell all around them, deaths counted in numbers, in distance, in moments of blurred, impersonal survival.

In-ho’s voice was low as he called out “062.” Measured.

The kid flinched, just slightly.

Then, he inhaled. A slow, deliberate breath. The kind that made it clear he was stuffing it down. Pushing it away.

The hesitation lasted a second longer. Then 062's fingers curled into a fist, and he turned. He ran back to them, and chuckled. Awkwardly. “Guess that’s one down.”

Now they had the advantage.

Three opponents left. Four of them still standing.

They just had to finish it.

062 moved again. Faster this time. He scooped up another disc, fingers curling around the cold metal. His breath came quick but steady. There was no hesitation in his stance this time, no flicker of uncertainty. He had already taken a life – there was no room left for doubt.

With a sharp exhale, he launched the disc forward.

CLANG.

The metal slammed into the enemy’s cylinder… but it didn’t fall. It tilted, teetering for a breathless second, but remained upright.

“Damn it,” 062 hissed.

But the enemy team didn’t wait. They retaliated.

One of their attackers was already in motion, gripping a disc, throwing it before 062 could even process the failure.

In-ho barely had time to react before 009 moved. He didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, broad shoulders squared, and threw himself into the disc’s path.

THUNK.

It slammed against his shoulder. A sharp, sickening sound. His body recoiled, knocked back by the force. Straight into their own cylinder. The metal toppled over.

“Shit –”

009 hit the ground hard, a grunt of pain forced from his chest. The cylinder crashed beside him.

But 009 was already moving again, gritting his teeth through the pain, and forcing himself back upright. He reached for the fallen cylinder, hands wrapping around it with a grimace, and lifted it back into place.

Still in. Barely.

The enemy team saw the opening.

One of them lunged forward, aiming for a tag, trying to take 009 out before he could stabilize.

But 184 was faster. She moved like she had been expecting it, pivoting sharply, sticking out a foot just at the right moment.

The enemy player tripped.

The stumble bought them just enough time.

184 reached out, steady hands grabbing 009’s arm, helping him keep his balance as he set the cylinder firmly upright again.

009 let out a sharp breath, barely masking the pain that radiated through his ribs. He didn’t complain, didn’t react beyond a slow roll of his shoulder.

But there was no time to recover.

The countdown was running out.

Now it was In-ho’s turn again.

He glanced at the clock. There was under a minute left.

Now or never.

He knew what had to happen.

If he hit – really hit – the enemy team wouldn’t have time to reset their cylinder. They wouldn’t even have the chance.

His fingers curled around a disc. The weight felt different now. Heavier. Not just physically – but in consequence.

This was it.

The moment that decided everything.

He exhaled.

Focused.

Aimed.

And threw.

The metal cut through the air like a blade.

A perfect arc – precise, deliberate.

CRACK.

The enemy cylinder collapsed. It started to tilt, hitting the dirt with a final, resounding thud.

The opposing team froze.

The countdown hit zero.

A buzzer blared through the arena. Game over.

062 pumped a fist into the air. 009 exhaled, rolling his sore shoulder. 184 stood still, her gaze flicking toward the group of eliminated players. In-ho watched, expression unreadable.

But as the other team’s last three players were escorted out – one of them weeping, the other staring blankly ahead, the third being dragged away…

In-ho felt something settle deep in his chest. Another group of people who wouldn’t be here tomorrow.

062 nudged his arm. “Hey.”

In-ho turned.

062’s grin had dimmed, just slightly. “We’re still here.”

In-ho didn’t answer.

He just looked at the empty space where the losing team had been.

And he wondered how long that would be true.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ○△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Part 1 | next part | masterlist

[everwhovian]

Here's the edit with the song "grieved you" @kitsunexgari

[everwhovian]

your inhun edit was in a gacha reaction video I think 🫡

In a what? I have to confess that I had to look that up cause I never stumbled upon that

That would be really funny tbh! I watched some on YT just now!! Didn't see my edit but that's okay 😂

If you find it again, anon, I would love to get a link!!!

[everwhovian]

Actually here’s some english shit that pisses me off. When you very slightly change how you pronounce a vowel to make a noun into a verb. This is a duplicate, which happens when you duplicate one item to make two or more.

[everwhovian]

what remains. | Hwang brothers

(Warning: squid game typical violence, background character death)

Part 1 | next part | masterlist

Part 25: Red Light, Green Light

The moment the first body hit the ground, panic erupted.

Screams. Sudden movement. More bodies dropping in an instant. The sharp, mechanical voice of the doll rang through the open field.

Red Light.

Everything stopped.

Except for the ones who didn’t.

More gunfire.

More bodies.

Blood seeped into the dirt, pooling beneath limbs that had barely taken a step before they were cut down.

In-ho didn’t flinch.

He couldn’t.

The mechanics were simple. Stop when the doll turned, move when it didn’t. A childhood game turned into a death sentence.

Green Light.

He moved. Steady. Calculated. Every footstep placed with precision.

Around him, others rushed, stumbled, fought against their own instincts, their own fear. The players ahead of him blurred into nothing but bodies, obstacles, numbers waiting to be erased.

Then –

A sharp gasp.

A shuffle of feet.

Someone was falling.

Instinct moved before thought.

In-ho lunged. His hand snapped out, fingers clamping onto fabric, gripping hard, yanking back with sharp force. The weight of the other player jerked against him, unsteady, nearly dragging him forward too. But In-ho held firm. Braced his legs. Dug his heels in.

For a moment, it was a struggle. The player’s balance was already gone, his body pitching forward, momentum carrying him toward the ground. A single second, and he’d hit the dirt – exposed, vulnerable. Dead.

So In-ho didn’t just pull – he caught him. A hard, quick tug backward, shifting the weight into him, forcing him upright before his knees could buckle.

Red Light

They froze.

The player was half-leaning into him now, barely standing on his own. His grip clenched onto In-ho’s sleeve, trembling. Short, sharp breaths. A shuddering inhale.

The doll’s head clicked. The eyes scanned. Searching.

Not them.

Not this time.

The moment stretched – too long, too tight, suffocating. In-ho could feel the the player shaking against him, the way his entire body was still locked in that near-fall. Could feel the grip knotted into his sleeve, desperate, like letting go meant collapsing.

When the countdown resumed, the grip on his sleeve was still trembling.

He looked down.

A boy – no, not a boy, but young enough that In-ho’s stomach twisted – stared up at him, breathless, wide-eyed, shaking. He barely looked old enough to be in his twenties, with sharp angles and too-thin limbs, dark eyes lined with exhaustion.

And on his chest –

062.

“…You –” The kid swallowed, words breathless, barely audible. “You – You pulled me back.”

In-ho didn’t answer.

Didn’t acknowledge the way the kid was still gripping his sleeve like a lifeline, like he hadn’t processed that he was still alive.

Didn’t acknowledge the way the kid reminded him of someone else.

The doll’s voice rang out. The game wasn’t over.

So he didn’t waste time with words.

In-ho just pulled his arm free. Didn’t look at the kid. Didn’t acknowledge the way he nearly swayed, like he wasn’t sure if he could stand on his own yet.

He kept moving.

When the game ended, when the screams faded, when the bodies were dragged away and silence settled over the remaining players, In-ho expected 062 to disappear. To stick with the others, to run to the safety of a crowd.

But later that night, In-ho sat on his cot, his back against the cold metal bars, staring at the ceiling. He wasn’t sleeping. He hadn’t even tried. It wasn’t that he wasn’t tired – he was. Bone-deep, inescapably tired. But that kind of exhaustion didn’t lend itself to rest. It just settled into his body, into his mind, into the spaces behind his ribs where something unnamed had started to root itself.

Survival. That was all that mattered.

A shadow moved in the corner of his vision. Someone hesitated near his cot. Too close.

His muscles tensed, already preparing for a fight.

“Hey.” A quiet voice. A little uncertain, but not afraid.

In-ho turned his head.

062 stood there, hands in his pockets, shifting on his feet like he wasn’t sure if he should be here. Not much younger than Jun-ho.

The resemblance wasn’t exact, but it was close enough to make something tighten in In-ho’s chest. The way he held himself, the way he looked at him, head tilted like he was sizing him up, trying to decide whether or not he was worth trusting.

The kid shifted, awkward, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be here. Like he wasn’t sure if he should be talking to him at all.

Then, hesitantly, “…Thanks. For earlier.”

In-ho said nothing.

The kid exhaled. “Guess you’re not much of a talker, huh?”

Still nothing.

But 062 didn’t leave.

Instead, he dropped onto the empty bunk across from him, leaning forward, arms braced against his knees.

“I’m Oh Young-il,” he said, voice still quiet, still uncertain. “Since we’re gonna be here a while, I figured I should at least tell you my name.”

Something in In-ho’s stomach twisted.

His fingers curled slightly.

He didn’t want to know that. Didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to see anything in 062 beyond what was printed on his uniform.

062.

A number.

Not a name.

Not a story.

Not someone he had saved.

But 062 just kept talking, filling the silence between them, his words easy, careless, like he wasn’t sitting in a room full of the dead and the dying. Like he didn’t understand how this would end.

Eventually, the kid sighed, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. I get it. I’ll stop bothering you.”

He stood, stretching, before taking a step back toward his own bunk.

Then – hesitation.

And, with a smirk, almost teasing – “For the record… if you don’t wanna call me Young-il, that’s fine.”

In-ho stared at him, unreadable. Then, slowly, his gaze flicked downward. To the number. The only thing that mattered.

“Go to sleep, 062.”

The kid blinked. Then, after a moment, he huffed a soft laugh. Shook his head.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, walking off, slipping into the dark, into the spaces between bunks where other players tried to disappear.

In-ho didn’t watch him go.

Didn’t acknowledge the way his throat felt tight.

Didn’t acknowledge the way something in his chest felt heavier than before.

Instead, he turned his gaze back to the ceiling

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ○△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Part 1 | next part | masterlist

[everwhovian]

You can only reblog this today.

[everwhovian]

Somebody's watching me... it's my anxiety

[everwhovian]

when i say sangihun and inhun are two sides of the same coin, this is what i mean by it

like...similar dynamic but one (inhun) is darker than the other

(i made these! please don't steal but if you do make sure that watermark thingy stays!!!)

[everwhovian]

what remains. | Hwang brothers

Part 1 | next part | masterlist

Part 24: In-ho calls the number...

He twisted the card in his hands.

A circle, triangle, and square were stamped on the front – simple, unassuming. But it felt heavy. He traced the edges with his thumb, feeling the weight of the decision he had already made.

He flipped it over.

A number.

Without hesitation, he called. A voice on the other end answered, calm and direct. “State your name and date of birth.”

His grip on the card tightened.

“Hwang In-ho,” he said. His voice didn’t waver. “February 2, 1976.”

They told him where to be that same night. No time to think. No time to change his mind. Not that he would. He hung up, shoving the card into his pocket.

So, before anything else, he went to the hospital.

Yuna was sleepy when he arrived, her eyes heavy, her breathing slow. The medications, the exhaustion – they were wearing her down.

But she still smiled when she saw him. The gentle rise and fall of her chest. The faint shadows under her eyes. The way she still tried to look strong, even when her body was failing her.

“In-ho,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re here.”

“Of course I’m here,” he said, sitting beside her, taking her hand in his. Warm. Still warm.

She squeezed his fingers weakly, her eyelids fluttering. She was too tired to talk much, too exhausted to ask why his grip was a little too tight tonight.

So he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered. “So much.”

Her lips curved faintly, but she didn’t open her eyes.

“Rest,” he told her gently.

And this time, she didn’t fight it. She sighed softly, her body sinking deeper into the bed, her breathing evening out.

He stayed for a moment longer, just watching her, memorizing every detail.

Then, carefully, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small folded piece of paper.

He placed it on the table beside her, next to her untouched cup of tea. ‘Don’t worry. I love you.’

A part of him wanted to stay there forever. But he didn’t have forever. So, he walked away. He didn’t look back.

His stepmother was in the kitchen when he got home, quietly sorting through the hospital bills In-ho had left behind. Her fingers traced the numbers, again and again, as if willing them to shrink. She didn’t hear him come in at first – too caught up in her own quiet worry.

In-ho didn’t say anything.

He just stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.

Tightly.

She stiffened at first, startled – he had never been the affectionate type with her. But after a moment, she melted into the embrace, her hands hesitantly smoothing over his back.

She didn’t ask why. She didn’t say a word. Just held him, without needing an explanation.

And In-ho held on.

Longer than he should have.

Long enough to memorize the warmth, the steadiness, the silent comfort of a woman who had been his mother in all the ways that mattered.

Long enough to regret never telling her everything she deserved to hear.

Then, before she could pull away, before she could look at him too closely, he let go.

And without another word, he turned and walked the familiar hallway down to Jun-ho’s room.

The light from the hallway spilled in just enough to see his baby brother curled up on his side, deep in sleep.

Peaceful. Unaware.

For a long moment, In-ho just stood there.

Looking at him.

Jun-ho was grown now. Twenty-three years old. A police officer. An adult. But to In-ho, he was still his baby brother.

Still the kid who had clung to his leg when he left for university. Still the teenager who had beamed with pride the day he put on his first uniform. Still the little boy he had tucked into bed all those years ago.

And now, one last time. He stepped forward. Knelt by the bed. Carefully, he tucked the blanket around him, smoothing out the fabric like he had done a hundred times before.

A habit he had never really broken.

Then, his hand found its way to Jun-ho’s hair. Soft, slightly messy, just like when he was little. His fingers brushed through it gently, lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

Jun-ho didn’t stir.

Didn’t feel the way In-ho’s fingers trembled slightly as he let his touch linger.

This was goodbye. The words were stuck in his throat, unable to be said. So he said nothing.

Just looked at Jun-ho one last time.

Then, he stood and walked out.

And by the time Jun-ho woke up the next morning –

In-ho was gone.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ○△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Part 1 | next part | masterlist

(A/N: the next part will be about the games!)

[everwhovian]

Made this edit at work, and a few of my colleagues are also Squid Game fans 😂

[everwhovian]

what remains. | Hwang brothers

Part 1 | next part | masterlist

Part 23: In-ho plays a childhood game

A gentleman in a suit approached him in the subway station.

In-ho barely looked up at first, too focused on the crumpled list in his hand, the ink smudged from being folded and unfolded too many times. Lilies. Roses. Something bright. Something to make Yuna smile, even just for a moment.

The bouquet was already in his other hand, wrapped neatly in soft paper, the faint scent of fresh flowers lingering in the air. A small, fragile offering. A reminder that he still had something to give.

He just wanted to get flowers for his wife.

But then the man spoke, smooth and deliberate, his voice cutting through the white noise of the busy station.

“Excuse me, sir,” the man said. Polite. Confident. Familiar, like he had done this before.

In-ho hesitated, glancing up.

The man smiled. “You look like someone who could use a little luck.”

Luck.

The word left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He was about to brush him off – he had no time for strangers, no patience for whatever this man was selling – when the man pulled a stack of ₩100,000 bills from his pocket and held it out between two fingers.

“Play a game with me,” the man said. “Win, and the money’s yours.”

It should have been easy to walk away.

He wasn’t a fool. He wasn’t desperate enough to entertain a street scam, wasn’t naïve enough to believe a stranger handing out money had good intentions.

But the money was real.

And the man wasn’t pressuring him. If anything, he seemed almost amused, patient in a way that made it clear he already knew what In-ho’s answer would be.

In-ho exhaled, the weight of his exhaustion pressing down on him.

And then, he sat down.

The game was simple. Ddakji.

Flip the opponent’s tile using your own. A game for kids, something he had played with Jun-ho when they were younger. Guiding his little brother’s hands, showing him how to angle the throw just right, how to hit the tile with the perfect amount of force.

Back then, Jun-ho’s laughter had echoed through their small apartment, full of delight whenever he won, full of stubborn determination whenever he lost.

Now, the game sat between him and a stranger in a subway station, and it felt like something else entirely.

It shouldn’t have made his pulse quicken.

But it did.

He played. He lost.

The man smiled and slapped him across the face.

Sharp. Sudden. Loud enough that the sound echoed faintly through the station.

In-ho blinked, his cheek stinging, but he barely flinched.

The man straightened his cuffs, still smiling. “Want to try again?”

His instincts told him to leave. To walk away, to pick up the crushed flowers from the ground and go home.

But he didn’t.

Because, for the first time in a long time, his mind was quiet.

No debt. No hospital bills. No desperate thoughts clawing at the edges of his brain.

Just the game.

Just the sharp bite of pain, the weight of the tile in his hand, the moment of anticipation before impact.

So he played again.

And again.

And again.

Each loss came with a slap, sharp and grounding, but not unbearable.

Each win came with money pressed into his palm.

By the time he had earned more than the times he had lost, his cheek burned, red and raw.

But in his pocket, neatly placed, was a card.

And in his hand, folded between his fingers, were a couple ₩100,000 bills.

Not much. But enough.

Enough to keep things going. Enough to make him wonder.

He walked away, the sting on his face still fresh, grounding.

But deep beneath it, beneath the exhaustion, beneath the weight of everything that had been crushing him for so long…

He felt alive.

Maybe – just maybe – there was a gambler in In-ho after all.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ○△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Part 1 | next part | masterlist

[everwhovian]

do you take writing requests?

Ohhh I never really thought about that!

I mean, I could give it a try and then see how I manage?

What do you have in mind?

[everwhovian]

Another edit! The hwang brothers will be the end of me...

[everwhovian]

I'm not ready for act 3 of my fanfic... act 3 will be focusing on In-ho’s games and I'm not ready...

So, you get an edit instead! Already posted on tiktok