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Forgive me, for all the things I did but mostly for the ones that I did not.  /  The Secret History,  Donna Tartt

BREAKING NEWS: The body of a PLA alum retrieved from a lake after a 2-day search! 24-year-old Vincent Kwon was believed to be missing before authorities were alerted of a corpse floating to the top of Weyronto Pond mere hours ago. The phone call was made by the young man's fr...

　"I want to thank all of Vince's friends for being here on this day. There is..." The man, dressed in a black suit──as is typical of all funeral wear──looked up from the dais, scanning the small crowd. "There is a lot of you. He would've been happy to see that. Other than his creative work, relationships with people were the thing that mattered to my son most."

As he directed his gaze back down, a slight quiver was barely noticeable in his lip. He adjusted his glasses, his hair, the handwritten version of the speech he was supposed to deliver.

Daol Kwon cleared his throat to speak when the heavy church doors opened.

Someone, with their stare glued to the tile under their feet, shuffled inside before quickly plopping down in the very last row.

Vincent's father squinted his eyes at that. His eyebrows were tightly knit and forehead wrinkled, though not in the way they have been for the past few weeks. Before, all that was consternation, mourning. As he looked at the intruder, one familiar sensation was carried over:

Disbelief.

From sadness, disbelief led Daol to anger. Irrational, maybe, in the judgement of other people gathered in the temple to say their final farewells to Vince. If Daol's wife were standing next to him, and not sitting on the frontmost bench, she would've gripped his shoulder then, the second his mouth began to open.

Instead, she was forced to watch in horror.

"Hey!" Daol called out. "You! Who invited you here?"

With every next word, he stepped down from the altar and passed family, friends and his child's peers. Some of them probably came only to be able to later tell other people they did.

At the very least, they wouldn't be able to boast about having seen his boy's cold face; they didn't open the casket, everything was too bloated.

"We don't want you here, murderer!" Daol continued to yell as he stormed down the alley. He could see something like fear, funnily enough, building in their expression. He had to force himself to keep walking past them.

He pushed the oak doors open and whipped his head outside, looking around. He caught sight of two men in uniform and smiled bitterly. "Officers. Get them out of here. Please. Before I do something I won't be proud of, and something that'll only result in more paperwork for you."

The policemen considered him briefly and nodded at one another. They came inside the church, but Daol didn't care to watch as they escorted his baby's killer out.

He swore mutely at the sight of the piece of paper, crumpled in his fist.

Providence Liberal Academy issues statement, garners mixed reactions: "Are those condolences or promotional material for the college?" people wonder.

　November 2nd, 11:43 PM. The last people to see Vincent Kwon alive──his five friends, significant other and younger sibling. Re-enactment of the events before the death.

VINCENT KWON: I'm going to go grab myself another drink, be right back. Don't miss me too much while I'm gone!

With that, Vincent stood, stretching his arms up and over the fire. HAMLET chuckled at the sound of his back cracking, and Vincent stuck out his tongue at them. If all of them had wanted to stay on the dancefloor with him instead of sitting on uncomfortable logs for hours (there weren't even any s'mores to make up for it), this wouldn't be happening.

MACBETH: Grab me something as well, yeah?

VINCENT KWON, already a few paces away and humming to himself: Sure, sure. A beer for each of ya. Except you, of course.

TITUS ANDRONICUS barely even shrugged at their brother's pointed glare. It's not like they wanted to drink with these people anyway.

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, on the other hand, watched their boyfriend walk away with longing in their eyes. They neither wanted to drink with these people, nor be left alone with these people.

The crackling of the campfire, its pops and hisses, grew impossibly louder with each second. The atmosphere was tense, and no one could really pin-point why. Maybe it was simply the stage of getting drunk when just a bit more alcohol is needed to tip you over the edge, and Vincent was a genius for identifying that before anyone else.

Or, maybe, it really was the two of them: TITUS ANDRONICHUS and ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.

They exchanged glances.

JULIUS CAESAR leaned forward, their foot nudging a rock as a smile pulled at their lips.

JULIUS CEASAR: So... What are your costumes for Vince's birthday party gonna be?

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA's lips parted, and a pang of glee and warmth (contrasting with how everyone surrounding the fire made them feel otherwise) spread in their chest. They and Vince had chosen matching costumes, something they'd been giddy about for weeks. They couldn't wait for Friday night.

A&C wouldn't say they fully understood that part of their boyfriend, but what did that matter if they still ultimately took him as he was? "There are no parties without Vince and no Vince without parties." That was a real thing they've heard people say, twice at least. And so, to celebrate his and all his friends' graduating from Providence Liberal Academy, as well as his coinciding birthday, Vincent decided a week-long marathon of huge ragers at his parents' even bigger lakehouse would be just the thing.

They were currently on night two. On the first night, there were about 250 people there. Night-marish, isn't it? A&C thought so too. But, night one was at least somewhat tolerable, because it was somewhat a semi-official celebration. Vince was loved at PLA. On night one, half the guests were college lecturers and staff. The announcement about the party had been posted on the Academy's website. Now, on night two, 250 people turned into around 325, and A&C could barely handle it.

A&C was happy for Vince, of course. This was something he really enjoyed. Drinking. Music. Fun stuff like that. He loved throwing parties, even if he ended up spending them with his core group of friends, away from this sort of thing's very crux, anyway.

A&C was very, very happy for Vince. They just really couldn't wait for Friday night's one last party, and they wanted to tell Vince's friends that, and about the matching costumes, and everything. Unfortunately, someone else spoke before they got to. 

ROMEO AND JULIET: Are we sure the costumes will be mandatory? He can still change his mind, right?

JULIUS CEASAR, shrugging: He can! But we all know he won't. He loves costumes more than you hate them.

ROMEO AND JULIET, quietly: I don't hate costumes. I just never seem to have any good ideas.

OTHELLO: Hey, that's not true. You at least know the inside jokes, R&J. I don't even have that.

MACBETH scoffed, leaning back and crossing their arms: The thing is, OTHELLO, Vince doesn't even care that much about you──and vice versa, I know──but that means he'll let it slide if your costume sucks. R&J, we'll help you out. I, for one, plan to dress up as the man himself──the venerable Vincent Seungwan Kwon.

JULIUS CEASAR's grin widened, eyes glinting: This entire week is actually going to be amazing.

HAMLET, tone wry, as they prodded at a burning log with a stick: How so? It's been a logistical nightmare so far.

ROMEO AND JULIET, laughter bubbling up despite themselves: Isn't it always with him? But I think JC is right. Partying for a week straight is, like, the best gift Vince could ever ask for, knowing him. Hey, TA?

TITUS ANDRONICUS shifted, the firelight catching the hint of a frown on their lips: Hmm?

ROMEO AND JULIET: Was your brother always like this?

TITUS ANDRONICUS: Huh? Like what?

MACBETH: An animal.

HAMLET, checking their watch with faux exasperation: Whom it takes ages to grab a couple of beers, apparently.

As if on cue, ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA's phone chimed. The notification could've very well been annoucing: 'new message! new message! these friends of your boyfriend's will probably try to peer over your shoulder and read it too if you open it in front of them!'

OTHELLO: Is that him, A&C?

Before they could reply, MACBETH and ROMEO AND JULIET's phones beeped or vibrated in a similar manner. R&J peeked at theirs, expression shifting from curious to annoyed as they shoved it back into their coat pocket with a huff.

MACBETH, reading aloud, , voice full of mock dramatics: "As I walked past my bedroom, I suddenly heard the bed beckoning me over and couldn't resist its pull. Get your beers yourselves, 'cause I'll be sleeping. Need to, seeing as I'll have to clean up all day tomorrow before round three. Cheers."

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA supressed a sigh.

HAMLET, TITUS ANDRONICUS, OTHELLO, and ROMEO AND JULIET didn't.

ROMEO AND JULIET, already pushing themselves up from the log: I'm out of here, then. I need my beauty sleep too.

They earned a few muttered goodnights as they walked away, but MACBETH's jaw tightened, eyes glancing around the fire.

HAMLET, raising an eyebrow: What?

MACBETH, curtly: Nothing. We should probably throw all of these people out.

TITUS ANDRONICUS turned around with a vaguely pained expression on their face, nodding. The party behind them was a kaleidoscope of light and sound──neon splashes escaping through open windows, fake smoke curling lazily into the night air, the bass of the music thudding against their chests. It was absurd to think anyone could sleep through it, but then again, Vince was always a fucking anomaly. They didn't know it, but the same concerns arose in TA's mind as moments earlier in ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA's: why did their brother have to want to invite as much as thirty dozens of people to one houseparty? Kicking them out was going to be a bloodbath.

A&C, hesitantly: Let's just stay here for one more moment.

　LIST OF SUSPECTS: too many to name.

Vincent Kwon,    ཐི♱ཋྀ    The Body in the Lake.

King Lear.   Chrome Hearts.   Mercury in retrograde.   Black Wolf.   Moonlit face.   Cigarette smoke.   Stick n pokes.   Being the center of attention.   Eyes everywhere.   Messy hair.   Blood spider orchid.   Experimental Performance Studies.   Cosmic navy.   How Soon Is Now?  by The Smiths.

The ghost of Vincent Kwon is probably watching the investigators work, taking notes for one of his scripts.

Who can blame him? You have to make the most of whatever situation you're in.

Daol and Myeongsuk Kwon never expected they'd have to bury even one of their children. Parents never do. If they had ever gone to a psychic or fortune teller, and this person told them this would happen, then, yeah, they'd probably guess it was Vincent.

At the same time, maybe surprisingly so, Vincent was their favorite. Vincent was, somehow, everyone's favorite──and if he wasn't yours, you just shut up about it.

As a student at the Providence Liberal Academy, Vince excelled in anything that required at least some extravagance of character. Furthermore, as a student (or even graduate, at the time of his death) in the Experimental Performance Studies programme, he had managed to secure a film deal shortly before his death. Vince was an aspiring director with an underlying interest in Shakespeare adaptations, and if that doesn't already begin to tell you of his personality, I don't know what will.

Vince Kwon was, among other things, larger-than-life.

Some would argue he was pretentious, full of himself, manipulative. Others would call him simply magnetic, charming, charismatic. Those who knew him best would aim for something in the middle.

Vince was...

He was definitely talented.

A boundary-pusher, someone who dismisses anything he deems "lowbrow" or "unoriginal," expecting the highest standard from others as well as himself. He was an absolute showman. That was why his professors loved him. They wanted to see him succeed.

At times, that insufferable martyr-artist attitude got to him, but when it didn't, he could be wonderfully down-to-earth. The balance he struck between creative triumphs and his party-boy persona was impressive, and he either bred admiration or envy and annoyance in the people in his life. He was never kind──he simply had a way of making people feel special when interested in them, only to drop them when they're no longer useful or exciting to him. And, thus far, his friends had been on the pleasant end of the spectrum.

That was why, at first, none of them were suspects in his case.

Later, all of them would be the greatest ones.

The academic year at PLA followed an unusual schedule, as it sometimes does at privately-owned colleges: the first semester from January to April, a break from classes, filled with compulsory internships, research projects or artistic projects (depending on your major) for all of May, June and July, and the second semester running from August until the end of October. Then, finally, the entirety of November and December off.

That meant that when Vince and many of his friends graduated, there weren't really many ways to properly celebrate. November isn't exactly the best month for clubbing.

Thus, Vince took it upon himself to make this worthwhile──especially with his 25th birthday just around the corner. The week-long celebration, welcoming everyone, students, alumni, staff and any outsiders, would happen at his parents' extensive lakehouse, fitting up to 350 people each night. Its culmination was going to be the costume party on Friday night, in a slightly smaller group, to celebrate him, and not graduating.

Before that highly anticipated evening, however, something else that would ruin Vince's meticulous plans happened.

He headed to bed early (unusual for him, friends suggest) and he was gone the next day. Nowhere to be found.

Until about 6 PM, the people closest to him, MACBETH, JULIUS CAESAR, ROMEO AND JULIET, HAMLET, TITUS ANDRONICUS, ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, and OTHELLO, assumed he would still show up at some point.

He didn't.

He wasn't there to welcome his guests, to enjoy his party.

The next morning, the friend group filed a missing person's report, and alerted Vince's parents of the situation.

On November 4th, around 1 PM, TITUS ANDRONICUS and ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA were taking a walk along Weyronto Pond's shore when they noticed a body floating to the top, face-down, black jean jacket soaked and heavy. Inadvertently, one of them discovered the corpse of their brother, and the other, the corpse of their lover. They didn't hesitate to call 9-1-1 for a moment.

The entire lakehouse, the pond, and some of the wooded area turned into a crime scene in the matter of minutes. Crime scene, because this didn't look like an accident. Not entirely.

A   Closed   Murder   Mystery   /   Whodunit   Apply   Fic.

Notes.
　⭒  /  Hi. Yeah. Back with an apply fic. Ignore what happened with HotR. I, too, think it's a shame. Anyway! I hope this intro was interesting enough. Experimented with form a little (though the entire fic will be in regular, narrative prose, if you weren't sure). I love Vince sm sm, too bad he's dead. All in all, check out the rules, slots and form in the next chapter and APPLY!

　⭒  /  Content Warnings: death, descriptive gore, violence, mental health issues, alcohol consumption, possibly consumption of other drugs, mature language, sexual content (no actual smut, but probably suggestive scenes and implied sexual activity), and others I can't think of right now.

　⭒  /  Because of HotR, I feel like I need to put this disclaimer at the very start: updates will most likely be very sporadic, as I am a first year university student and just moved out a little over a month ago, so in the moments when I'd usually have the time to write, I now have to go grocery shopping by myself, study, or other things like that. So, while I'm obsessed with this fic already, and I wish it wasn't this way, I won't be able to work on it super fast/often.

　⭒  /  rhaenicents norfilms iheartmiles hurricanesidney wervwolfs callumsluv

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