Hwang Brothers - Blog Posts

- Radiohead, 'Fog'

doomed siblings 😭😭 an edit of them to alex g is going to hurt EVERY time

my heartbreaking, nauseating, squid game edit of the day. this actually had me going “no no no no no” while kicking my legs.

HWANG IN-HO & HWANG JUN-HO

— The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky

I can never be happy in this fandom can I 💔

"Hyung! Don't you have other songs to listen to?", a 7 year-old Junho asked Inho with his annoyed voice.

"This is a good song, little brother.", Inho answered his younger brother playfully. Then suddenly he lifted Junho into his arms and made a dance move while singing - "Flyyy me to the moon.. and let me play among the stars..." - Inho was singing playfully to Junho, he was singing as if he was in an orchestra concert.

"Hahaha!! Hyung!! You're funny!!", Junho was giggling so much looking at his brother's behavior. Inho was smiling to Junho and continued to sing and dance with little Junho in his arms, nothing made him happier than seeing his little brother laughing with happiness.

-------🥺🥺🥺---------

I always wonder why Inho likes listening to "Fly Me To The Moon" so much. I first thought maybe because the song reminds him of his dead-wife (the song about people who are in love). But I remember that the song was first playing when Inho was trembling to the core while halucinating Junho after he shot Junho on the cliff. So.. I think the song reminds him of his baby brother. Maybe he used to listen to "Fly Me To The Moon" while he was playing some games with Junho when Junho was still a kid 🥺🥺 And now in the island, he listens to the song when he misses Junho, his baby brother.

Who tf gave you permission to rip my heart out like that/j

Junho slowly dying from major injuries at the end of the series.

He can't run anymore. He couldn't even stand anymore. The base is quickly going up in flames. The others have evacuated, and the only ones left are;

Gihun, who's at the end of the group to make sure everyone is safe, (and that's means Inho and Junho)

Junho, who's practically dead weight and has no energy left due to his injuries,

And Inho, who is still holding onto his brother for dear life, injured but trying to carry his brother out with what strength he has left.

Junho collapses not even halfway through. Burning debris fell from the ceiling and hit Inho's leg.

Gihun rushes to them and tries to help them out. Inho can't carry Junho anymore, and Junho is not moving except for labored breathing.

Gihun is conflicted. He doesn't know what to do. He can't carry both of them and by the time he getd one out, it'll be too late for the other.

"Take Junho, Gihun-ssi"

"What?"

"There's no decision to be made. Take my brother and go!"

Gihun hesitates. Just as he was about to open his mouth, Junho spoke.

"Hyung?"

It was weak.

"W-why is it dark, hyung?"

Gihun let out a sharp gasp while Inho's ragged breathing was interrupted by what sounded like a strangled sob.

Gihun catches Inho's eyes, and they know.

Junho is not gonna make it regardless.

Gihun kneels down to Inho and tries, one last time.

"Let's go. You can still get out."

Despite everything, Gihun already knows the answer.

Inho doesn't respond. He just held his little brother tighter, carding his hands through the dirty hair of the modt precious thing he has left.

Gihun exhales and ran his hand through Junho's hair as well.

"I'll take care of your mother."

After sparing one last look at Inho, whose eyes are looking at his brother only, Gihun leaves.

The flames are getting closer to them, but Inho can't feel anything other than Junho in his arms.

"Hyung?"

"Y-yeah?"

"It's warm."

Junho nuzzles closer to his older brother. Inho does nothing but reciprocate.

"It is, isn't it?"

"I. Hah. I don't think our house had been this warm in a long time."

Ihno chuckles and sobs.

"Hyung?"

"Yes, Junho?"

"I'm glad you're home."

If I can rewrite this as a proper one shot, I'll be posting on ao3

A Familiar Stranger (What if...?)

Summary: After the Red Light, Green Light game, the players vote to continue or leave the games with their own shares. In-ho votes for X this time, and the players are all sent home. Gi-hun goes back to the outside world and finds In-ho in a convenience store, but he knows him as Young-il.

REQUEST HERE

The warehouse reeked of stale sweat and blood as the players crowded into the middle, awaiting their turn to vote to continue or leave the games. The voting box was placed at the center of the room, ready for everyone to decide their life.

The red and blue buttons blinked softly on its surface like a heartbeat, waiting. For some, it was hope. For others, it was a cruel tease of a chance to escape. 

Gi-hun’s hands trembled as the last player, 001, took their turn. The vote had been close — shockingly so. The players were divided to Xs and Os, who had been nearly neck-and-neck after the Red Light, Green Light game bled the truth into their bones.

91 people died in less than five minutes into the game. There was no sugar-coating on such a bloody and violent scene. The gunshots still echoed behind their eyes.

Player 001 seemed to think first before pressing one of the buttons, adding to the tension. Gi-hun whispered under his breath as if he cheered for 001 to vote for X, so all of them could go home, and everyone could still have a chance to be saved. 

Or was it?

Was it really because he wanted everyone to be saved, or just to prove to the system that there is still something good in humanity?

Then, a click.

The computer above showed the score of votes, seeing a close call. 

X - 183, O - 182

A crowd of cheer erupted inside the warehouse, only to be interrupted by the lights being shut off, then a hiss of air followed. Gi-hun’s vision blurred, his heart pounded as he struggled to stay upright, but the weight of exhaustion and chloroform dragged him into darkness. 

——

Gi-hun awoke to the sting of cold pavement scraping his cheek.

Rain drizzled softly on the city street as Gi-hun groaned and pushed himself onto his hands and knees. The van’s taillights disappeared into the night, and the alley it had dumped him into was as empty as it was unfamiliar. He was back in Seoul, just like last time.

He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and froze, only to find a small, rectangular shape sitting in his palm, wrapped in plastic. It was a cassette tape, seemingly new, with three shapes on it - triangle, circle, and square. His pulse kicked into high gear as he looked around, but no one was in sight. Just the eerie hum of a city that truly never slept.

Gi-hun pulled the tape closer and saw a faint marking on the side, written in black ink.

“456.”

Gi-hun’s breath clouded in the cool air as he stood outside the nondescript apartment door, knuckles poised mid-air. The city buzzed below like it always had. But in his chest, something old had awakened. The tape sat like lead in his jacket pocket.

The door creaked open before he could knock, seeing Jun-ho staring back at him, who seemed scruffy, leaner, and shadows carved beneath his eyes.

“Gi-hun,” Jun-ho said, his eyes with a hint of question as he looked at him. “You’re back. How?”

Gi-hun stepped in without asking, pulling the cassette from his jacket and showing it to Jun-ho. He immediately closed the door as Gi-hun placed the cassette on the kitchen table like a loaded gun.

Jun-ho narrowed his eyes. “What is that?”

“A message from the inside,” Gi-hun’s voice was low and hoarse. “There’s something else. They took out the tracker.”

Jun-ho blinked. “What?”

“In my tooth. It’s gone. Someone knew it was there. They knew it from the from start,” Gi-hun’s hands trembled as he rubbed at his jaw.

A long silence followed, broken only by the soft click of Jun-ho inserting the cassette into an old player and hitting play. The tape hissed before starting, then came a voice.

“I must admit, watching you squirm has been… entertaining.”

A soft static crackles.

“Gi-hun, you should’ve taken your prize and disappeared. But I suppose you’ve never known when to walk away to try and be a hero.”

A pause came, then a faint sound that seemed like footsteps or breathing. 

“You thought you were clever. Hiding a tracker in a tooth? Cute. But I’ve been watching longer than you’ve been planning.”

The voice lowers, almost a whisper now. A sharp breath caught in Gi-hun’s throat.

“You should’ve stayed gone, Seong Gi-hun. You want to expose us? Tear everything down? Fine. But know this: while you waste time chasing shadows, we’ve already found her.”

Jun-ho’s head snapped toward Gi-hun.

“She looks so much like her mother.”

Gi-hun surged forward and slammed a fist on the table. “You son of a—“

The player stopped as Gi-hun was shaking now, clenching his teeth, curling his fists until they turned white. “He knows about Ga-yeong. He’s threatening my daughter.”

Jun-ho’s mouth opened, then shut. Something passed behind his eyes, something along the lines of guilt, recognition, or restraint. The cassette whirred softly behind them, tape still spooling, like a ticking clock counting down to something neither of them could stop.

The day when the line between brother and monster would no longer be a line, but a fog — bleeding through every breath he took, every step he retraced. But knowing that the voice belonged to his brother, crackling through the cassette player, was like being buried alive in guilt all over again. 

He hadn’t slept much since returning from searching around the islands. Sleep came in bursts, always haunted by the rhythmic thud of bodies hitting the ground, the clicking of guns disguised as toys. 

And his brother’s face. Always, his brother’s face.

But Gi-hun’s reaction had shaken something loose in him. That rage and fear. It wasn’t just about revenge anymore. Now, it was personal for him too. They crossed a line.

Jun-ho watched Gi-hun pace the room like a cornered animal. He knew that look. He had seen it in the mirror for years.

What if Jun-ho had pulled the trigger first? What if he didn’t hesitate back then, on the cliff…?

Jun-ho swallowed hard, his voice hollow as he broke the silence. “There’s a chance it’s a bluff.”

Gi-hun rounded on him. “Would you bet your daughter’s life on that?”

Jun-ho didn’t answer. In fact, he couldn’t. Because deep down, he knew In-ho never bluffed.

Jun-ho walked into the bathroom, shut the door behind him, and leaned heavily on the sink. In the mirror, his reflection stared back with eyes that didn’t belong to the cop who once believed in justice. They were the eyes of someone who knew too much — who lived too long in the underworld without dying. 

He couldn’t tell Gi-hun the truth — how he knew it was his brother who’s been running the games along and was a player. Because he knew that if he did, Gi-hun would run into hell blind.

——

The rain pattered against the glass as Gi-hun sat at the tiny plastic table near the window, slurping instant ramen like it was the first meal he had in days. In truth, it probably was. He stared into the broth as if it could answer the questions clawing at his brain.

The bell above the door jingled softly. Gi-hun barely glanced up, until he heard a voice.

“Mind if I sit?”

Gi-hun looked up, almost startled. A man stood across from him, casual in posture but sharp in the eyes. He wore a weathered jacket, sleeves slightly too long, and a disarming smile on his face.

“I saw you from the inside,” the man added. “Thought you looked familiar.”

Gi-hun blinked. “Have we met?”

The man nodded. “Briefly, I think. In the games.”

Gi-hun studied his face, but nothing rang a bell. Still, something about the man was unsettlingly calm. 

“You played?” Gi-hun asked.

The man took the seat across from him, folding his hands. “First game was Red Light, Green Light. It was total chaos. I tapped out early.” He took the seat across from Gi-hun. “Oh, and I’m Young-il, by the way.”

Gi-hun nodded. “Gi-hun.”

Young-il’s eyes lit up with interest. “So, It’s true then. You’re the winner from the last game.”

Gi-hun didn’t answer right away, but the man’s gaze was unwavering, so he shrugged. “Yeah, if you could call it that. I spent months trying to figure out how to stop it. Now I’m working with someone… trying to take it down.”

Young-il’s lips curled slightly. “Is that so?”

Gi-hun frowned, which seemed to make Young-il chuckle, much to his surprise. He leaned back in his seat, lifting both hands in mock surrender.

“Sorry, I’m not here to cause trouble. Just… I guess I needed someone to talk to. My wife’s in the hospital.”

Gi-hun's suspicion softened slightly. “Oh?”

Young-il nodded, eyes lowering. “She’s seven months pregnant. Liver cirrhosis. Doctors say she might not survive the birth,” Young-il paused, then continued. “We needed the money. That’s why I signed up. But I didn’t make it past the first night. Coward, right?”

Gi-hun shook his head. “No one who left that place is a coward.”

Young-il’s smile returned, faint and thoughtful. “Thanks.”

The silence that followed felt heavier than before. Then, Young-il pulled something from his pocket, which seemed to be a small, crisp invitation card, just like the ones given before the games.

“There’s a new date, and I got two cards. I don’t know why they gave me two.”

He slid one across the table to Gi-hun, who looked down at it, his heart thudding. 

“I think they want us back,” Young-il said, his voice quieter now. “Maybe it’s a second chance. Or maybe something else.”

Gi-hun pocketed the card slowly. “Why give me yours?”

Young-il shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe you might want to think about it? I’m not really sure. But given what you’ve told me, maybe this could be your way in to… tear everything down.”

Gi-hun’s hand hovered in the air for a moment before he took the card and looked it over. It had the same symbols and format, like déjà vu written in ink. 

The date was five days from now. 

Young-il smiled faintly, rain dripping from his lashes. “The games might be full of traps, but after seeing my wife again, I definitely need the money.”

Young-il turned, ready to walk away when Gi-hun called after him. “Wait! What are you planning to do? Are you going back in again?”

Young-il glanced over his shoulder, the words leaving his mouth left Gi-hun in pure shock.

“Some of us never left.”

----

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