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Prologue.
Namgyu still couldn’t believe this was happening.
There, on the stage of Club Pentagon, was Thanos. His hands wild, gesturing at the not-so-small crowd at the front; movement of his body easy as he slightly bounced to the beat of the music.
Honestly, this was a gamble. A gamble Namgyu couldn’t believe paid off. When he returned to his employer dearest, tail tucked between his legs, asking all nicely to please not fire him even though he was missing for a week, Namgyu wasn’t even sure he’d make it past the threshold of the club before being kicked out. Technically, he could've come back earlier, the games only lasted three days in the end, but his body just wouldn't move. For a while after he crawled back to his shithole of an apartment he still felt gone. He thought about those PTSD-ed soldiers coming back from war and dreaming about or of it. But he didn't dream about the games. Namgyu didn't dream at all.
He was familiar with risk and fear, with death being dangled in front of him, usually by some of the shadier collectors. This is what got him out of bed in the end. On his second day of withdrawals a knock on the door came. Namgyu thought about letting them do him in, but his survival instincts were so engrained, he moved on autopilot to pacify his creditors. And then he just kept going. Like nothing happened. Because in the end, when things happened, something tended to change. And for Namgyu, all stayed the same.
So he returned to Pentagon. Bowed his head, was about to go on a tangent of excuses, but his boss almost immediately switched the topic to their monthly planning, not even bothering to ask where Namgyu was or what he was doing. Huh. Advantages of working in the nightlife industry, he supposed. Or maybe his little chipping problem was no longer seen as chipping. The latter was probably more likely - honest to god, his colleagues seemed genuinely perplexed he showed up to work sober that day. They fully doubled down in their amusement when an infamous quote, unquote legend rapper Thanos had strolled into Pentagon immediately requesting to see him.
At the time Namgyu was already arguing with their new bartender about the off-menu orders. Because, realistically, who did the little bitch think he was? Boulevardier isn’t on the cocktail card. It absolutely is, if someone from the VIP room is ordering it, and “Sorry can’t hear you,” for the whores on the dance floor. Was it really that hard to pick up? Namgyu learned the difference when he was 17, and the new idiot seemed to be well into his 20s.
“And what does an old friend need to do ‘round here to get his old fashioned?” Namgyu’s monologe was interrupted by a familiar baritone. He would be ashamed to admit it, but it took him a whole minute to compose himself and turn around to check whether he was tripping or not. There he was: purple hair, an outlandish neon tee, complimented by an ever-present cheshire smirk and unnaturally blue eyes. Namgyu was surprised it only now occurred to him to wonder whether Subong was wearing contacts or if he'd underwent some permanent procedure to colour his irises. Stupid either way.
His train of thought was interrupted by the new guy, which, by the way, what was his name again? “Here you go, sir,” he quickly placed the drink in front of Thanos, practically buzzing with anxiety for Namgyu’s approval. Maybe he wasn’t so useless after all.
“Cash or card, sir?” Or maybe he was.
Thanos turned to look at Namgyu in question. The latter man sighed, turning to the boy. “What was your name again?”
“Namsu,” Namgyu’s eyebrow twitched, as he heard the hyena laugh coming from the purple shit behind him. “No fucking way,” Subong pretended to whipe away the happy tears from his eyes. “We’ll have to call you Namsu Mini, or Namsu Junior then, so no one mixes you guys up.”
“Why would they mix us up?” Namsu, the only one not in on the joke, raised his eyebrows quizzically. Namgyu sighed again, this time louder. “Namsu,” he said, “take a fucking walk and ask Sanghun to actually fucking train you.”
“But who will tend the-“
“Junior, fuck off, yeah?” Thanos interrupted before the boy managed to pop a vein on his promoter’s forehead.
When Namsu finally scurried off, Namgyu turned back to his “old friend”, as Thanos had put it. The man looked at him, his gaze more serious now, studying his features almost like he was solving a puzzle.
“Long time no see,” Thanos said, taking a sip of his drink all while not breaking the eye contact.
“It’s been less than a week,” Namgyu replied incredulously. “So much for a warm welcome, Namsu. Or should I say Namsu Senior now?” he chuckled without much humour behind it. “You were much friendlier in the games, wonder why that is.”
Namgyu studied Subong again, arriving at the scary conclusion that he was sober as well. Terrific, a rapper on a come down was the last thing he wanted to deal with.
“What would you like for me to say instead? “I missed you, baby, dinner’s in the kitchen”?”
Thanos hummed. “For example.”
Namgyu was about to reply when another customer arrived at the bar. Instead he shot Thanos a glare as he took the order meant for Namsu. If the boy had genuinely decided to take a walk, he might actually kill him now that he got experience in that department. The moment he thought it, Namgyu felt his hand twitch spilling some of the gin outside the jigger. “Nervous tweaker,” Semi’s voice sounded clear as day in his head. Dumb bitch. He hoped he’d never have to see her again.
While Namgyu was making the drink, Thanos’ eyes were slowly following the movement of his hands, never leaving them for too long. It made him self-conscious. And self-reflective. When the customer left, he mumbled under his breath, not sure if it was more for Thanos or himself.
“I was wondering where you were, just a bit.”
Subong heard him. “Oh, man, you flatter me, it wasn't even a week.” Namgyu shot him a glare but was met with a softened teasing expression. His mind instinctively tried to memorise it. They stayed silent for a few more moments while Namgyu continued to serve the clients.
“Listen, Namsu. Got a proposition for ya.”
“Uh-huh,” he said in acknowledgment.
“You should invite me to perform here.”
“Should I?”
“Of course, man! Think about it: the rapper Thanos makes his comeback after a year with an exclusive listening party at Club Pentagon - that’s peak promotion!”
“Listening party implies new material.”
“I’m releasing a new EP, three songs.”
“When?”
Thanos looked up in thought. “In a month?”
“We’re booked for two in advance,” saying that Namgyu felt a little proud. How did he manage to land those gigs when the last half a year he was high out of his mind 24/7 he had no idea. Come to think of it, maybe he landed them exactly because of that. One hell of a bender that was.
“Even better,” Thanos shrugged, “then it’s out in two.”
Nambyu rubbed at his temples. He really needed a dose, like, yesterday. “Have you even started?” he asked, to which Thanos groaned. “Who do you think I am?”
“Have you?”
“Yes!” Subong exhaled then added, “kind of. I have some drafts.”
Fuck it, Namgyu thought, and what he said outloud was: “Fine. Let’s talk about it properly in a few hours, I have some faces to show myself to and a runaway bartender to catch.”
Thanos grinned from ear to ear. “Sick. And don’t worry, my boy, I’ll help you with the latter. You know I’m like a Namsu-magnet,” he winked as he jumped off of the barstool.
Namgyu caught him just in time before he ran off on his side-quest. “One more thing, Thanos. Since the next few months will be busy I’ll need a little bonus to take this on.”
“The fuck? I thought you’ll be paying me,” the man said, dumbfounded.
Namgyu groaned. “Yes, yes. Not the kind of bonus I was talking about,” he pointedly looked at Thanos’ chest there, underneath the shirt, he could see the outline of the familiar cross necklace.
Finally catching up, Thanos chuckled. He seemed to be doing that a lot today. “Of course, my Namsu. Consider it a shared budget,” he said before departing.
With how stingy Subong used to be, this was suspiciously easy, Namgyu thought. Any other day, he would’ve followed through to find the root of such generosity, but today all he felt was the buzz underneath his fingertips and saliva filling his mouth at the prospect.
As they finally left the club, Thanos invited him to his apartment, saying they deserved some comfortable use after the recent hell they went through. Namgyu’d scoffed again about the unfairness of the games ending right after Mingle, which he considered the easiest challenge out of the bunch. Thanos agreed, but only half-heartedly, an unfamiliar expression crossing his face at the mention.
When they arrived at the address, Namgyu gawked at the glass apartment complex that was apparently Subong’s home.
“How can you still afford rent here?! Weren’t you just balls deep in debt?” he exclaimed.
“Still am, my boy. But I’m not renting. That’s owned fucking property,” Thanos looked at him proudly as they reached the elevator.
Namgyu banged his head against its closing doors, making the other man snort. “Then why didn’t you sell it?” He asked, annoyed.
“You’ll see,” Thanos simply replied.
His flat wasn’t one of the fancy penthouse apartments in the building, located on a relatively low level. As they moved further inside, Thanos beckoned Namgyu towards the windows with a jerk of his head.
The view of Seoul at night was still as breathtaking as ever. Though not worth entering death games for. Namgyu’s gaze must’ve translated his confusion well, since the moment he locked eyes with Thanos, the latter understood his silent question.
As if weighing some pros and cons in his head, Thanos made a decision and moved closer to him, outstretching his arm and pointing the finger in some far away direction.
“See that black hole? Between the two skyscrapers and a bit further still?” Namgyu followed his finger. Indeed, away from the centre of Seoul and its epileptic lights was a blackout point barely visible in the distance. He nodded.
“That’s where I grew up. So, y’know,” Subong shrugged. Namgyu did know. His only counterpoint was that living somewhere cheaper would afford the other man more drugs. Well, a lot more drugs, which was even better, since they took you all the way to the stars - further from the memories than any moving could do.
Maybe Namgyu was deeper in this than he thought. So, naturally, he asked, “Wanna do it now or…?”.
And Thanos grinned at him like he also understood. Which is how Namgyu got to his current day’s impasse.
Inciting Incident.
Two months later, and Namgyu really needed a normal fucking fix.
Somehow, from getting high together almost every other day (because, duh, both of their wallets were still too tight to do it at their previous pace) to getting Thanos’ career back up, which Namgyu forgot why he signed up to help with, - they were spending so much time together that the rapper had suggested him to ditch his shabby flat and move in already. He was at his place almost every day anyway, if not doing something productive (read: getting high or rap-related), then trying and failing to beat Subong at Mortal Kombat. Moreover, as he’d said, the money he was spending on rent he could now spend on supplies for their shared happy stash, so it really was a win-win situation.
Except not really. See, they had a bit of a predicament: the original reason Thanos was so willing to share with him, he confessed while snorting MD from the coffee table, was that he couldn’t do it alone anymore. Yeah. Apparently, after the games had ended, he’d gone home to get immediately blasted, had had the worst trip of his life and almost OD’ed, having to rehabilitate himself through excessive vomiting.
Wouldn’t that have been funny? Thanos had asked. To survive literal death games and die from pills he’s been popping since his early 20s.
Yeah, very funny. Namgyu, unfortunately, couldn’t fully share the sentiment. Because no matter what Thanos had told him about those magic pills in his cross, shit was strictly “okay” in the long run. To his dumb luck, the games seemed to have a different effect on his nervous system, the worst nightmare of any practicing junkie. He built up an uncharacteristically high tolerance. Almost any party drug they could find, which was most of the shit they did, was not fucking working the same.
He wanted to pull his hair out and throw his scalp into the wall. Or something.
Especially now, as established previously, watching Thanos perform on the stage of his club, for the listening party he organised, between two half naked go-go dancers he fucking invited.
Maybe it was time to mention that their living situation came with some other, uh, side effects. The apartment, obviously, had only one bed. There was a couch in the living room, but the more time Namgyu’d spent in that place the less often occupied it was.
They were high as always, Subong must’ve said something, one thing led to another, and they slept together. Fucked would probably be a better term. It’s not like Namgyu could say he saw it coming, but… He kind of did. From that day they met after the games and onwards there was some tangible tension between them, a chemical reaction waiting for a spark to happen. Or something. Namgyu hated Chemistry all throughout high school. Although he could appreciate its contributions to the medical sector even back then.
Anyway, where was he? Right. They fucked on occasion, he couldn’t get high anymore, his job was arranging girls for Thanos to shamelessly flirt with on stage, and he was still too fucking sober for this shit.
Time was an interesting concept, Namgyu thought. How did it get so intense and so out of control so quickly? Everything slowed down and picked right back up erratically, each day passing at a different pace than the previous. He was in a constant rush from the uppers, which now also included Thanos, mixed with the derealisation from the immediate withdrawals, caused in part by the same man. Or something. Did he think that already?
The reasonable part of Namgyu was nagging him that maybe, just maybe, it was a little irrational to put all the blame and glory of his situation on the one person who wasn’t himself. And that maybe, just maybe, participating in death games, there he was the cause of fatal casualties, one of which he himself almost became on too many occasions, well… Maybe it had an effect on his psyche as well.
That train of thought went right out of the window when he heard his phone ping in the most anticipated notification of the evening. His dealer was here, and not just any. Namgyu glanced at the stage for the last time, ensuring that Thanos wouldn’t miss him, and, thinking about it for more than a second, he knew he wouldn’t. Idiot. Why did he even consider it? Namgyu hurried to the back entrance.
Letting the guy in, he immediately led him to one of the staff rooms. As usual, this guy was solid. He brought some strong shit for the VIPs, as well as a little gift for Namgyu. H, H, H! Fucking finally. “You have a clean syringe, right?” the guy asked, all business, always double checking the stupidest shit. Didn’t need his favourite customer kicking the bucket, Namgyu supposed.
“Nah, I’ll just sniff it,” he told him, feeling giddy already.
“Um,” the dealer looked at him, eyebrows furrowed, clearly confused by the change. “Y’know I can always give you one, man, on the house.”
Namgyu heard himself giggling more than registered doing it. The guy was maybe a bit too dense. His dope was on the house as well, with how much he ordered for the club, what was he even on about?
“It’s chill, don’t feel like mainlining,” he said.
“Well,” the guy tried to offer, but Namgyu wasn’t having it. “Dude, be nice and kindly piss off,” he said looking at him intensely.
The dealer lifted his hands in mock defense, mumbling something close to “whatever”, and promptly making his exit after he got his cash.
They knew each other for what? Three years now? Did he think that suddenly made them friends or something? All these unnecessary questions, Namgyu shook his head. So what if Namgyu wanted to switch it up? Sure, it wasn’t his usual style, not as fun and effective, but…
They had been laying in bed, Thanos absentmindedly running his hand up and down his arm, examining the tattoos. He might’ve said something like “you have nice arms, Namsu, well, except for, y’know,” and circled that spot on his forearm. Thanos said a lot of bullshit when he was high, but Namgyu felt bitter anyway. He’d swatted his hand away, only for the other man to immediately bring it back, his grip stronger. “C’mon, doll, you know that’s not how I mean it,” he brought his lips to the spot, kissing it with unusual gentleness.
So yeah. There was that. Before Namgyu could do anything, there was a knock on the door, Namsu’s head showing a second later in the opened gap. “They’re almost wrapped up,” he said before his eyes settled on the table. “What is that?!” the boy exclaimed.
Namgyu wanted to groan. Kids these days. “Exactly what you think, Junior,” because yes the nickname’d stuck ughhh, “now skedaddle, I heard you.”
The door closed as fast as it had opened and Namgyu was left with his treasure. He snorted two moderate lines, cleaned up and made his way downstairs, waiting for the effect to kick in - easy peasy. Fuck that other pussy shit, dope was dope, that’s why it was called that.
The final act started. Thanos was performing his older songs now, and they decided to leave the most viral one for the dessert, setlist number one rule. Namgyu, to his own misfortune, was quite good at this marketing shit. So he’d suggested Thanos invite one of the audience members on stage. For a lapdance, by the dancer of choice. That should work, right? Unlike usual nights at Pentagon, they allowed filming today, so the rapper’s overly horny audience would eat it up, Namgyu supposed. Okay, maybe he wasn’t that amazing at marketing, but he prayed this would do at least something to Thanos’ visibility.
“Okayy, senōrita at the front doesn’t mind some girl on girl action,” Thanos proclaimed at someone’s raised hand, “neither do I,” he winked. Namgyu was going to gag.
The chick was invited on stage, her outfit a bit less on the bimbo and more on the alternative side. Someone’s definitely got a type. Namgyu was praying to nonexistent gods, that H would hit him right now.
“So,” Thanos twirled her, “you have me on vocals, and who do you want on your lap?” Eh, 3/10 pun.
“Actually,” the girl grinned, and Namgyu felt his body go stiff at her tone, “how about we switch it up?” the moment she said it, she put her hand on Thanos’ chest and pushed him back, making him fall on the chair instead, hovering above him.
Props for the boldness, but Namgyu was going to rip the bitch’s throat out. When did emos become so whorish, anyway? He saw red, but stayed frozen in place by his slowly slipping away mind.
Thanos seemed equally taken aback, a clueless smile playing on his lips.
The seconds ticked agonisingly slowly. Namgyu could see every microexpression happening on Subong’s face. It seemed like he was about to consider it, lifting his gaze in that fashion of his, thinking, before a flash of fear passed across his features, and then he turned to look at her again, his smile was more polite than anything. It lasted for less than a heartbeat, which Namgyu knew because in that exact “Badump” he felt the dope properly kick in.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m taken.”
What?
“Huh?” The crowd must’ve been as shocked as Namgyu.
Namgyu sort of came back to his senses in the taxi on their way back home. Thanos was beside him tapping his fingers on his leg.
They were still silent taking the elevator up to the apartment, Subong giving in only as the door closed behind them.
“Are you gonna keep giving me the silent treatment?”
“What?” Namgyu asked, detached. By the look on Thanos’ face that was the wrong thing to say.
“What?! I’ll tell you what. You were running around wrapping shit up at the speed of a fucking light when the concert was done. The second we’re alone in the car you go nonverbal.” He approached him, grabbing his shoulders and giving them a light shake. “What’s going on?”
Namgyu chuckled. Leave it to Thanos to miss all the cues. “I’m just a bit on the nod, relax, dude.”
Understanding sparked behind Subong’s eyes, as he quickly unbuttoned the sleeve of Namgyu’s black work shirt, lifting it up and above his elbow. Not finding what he was looking for, he moved to the other arm before Namgyu’s hands stopped him. “You’re not gonna find anything you haven’t seen before. I sniffed it. So, chillax.”
Thanos still check both of his arms. The distrust was making Namgyu agitated. “Why are you so worked up over some H?” he hissed.
“Oh, you’re right why should I be?”
“My fucking god,” Namgyu broke away from Thanos’ hands plopping on the couch. “What are you, a school counsellor? Look at yourself before lecturing me.”
“I know you love blurring the lines but let’s leave at least some of them on, yeah? This shit is not the same and you know it.”
Namgyu couldn’t believe it. Was Thanos the rapper, a legendary fucking crash out, preachifying to him right now? And, more importantly, “What the fuck do you mean by blurring the lines?”
“Oh, c’mon, Namgyu,” his real name, huh. So this was serious. “You sneer at anyone who touches me, beg me to do you with those fuck-me eyes, and then go completely cold the second you get your comedown.”
“Well, apparently, you’re taken by someone, so since I’m a side piece,” he spit the last word out, “I really don’t get what all the fuss is about.”
If he thought Subong’s eyebrows couldn’t shoot any higher, he was wrong. “By you, you fucking imbecile! I’m taken by you.”
They stared at each other, Namgyu still too out of it to process the other man’s words at a normal speed. Then, “Isn’t there someone you forgot to ask, huh?” he felt tears threaten to spill down his face, and didn’t know why. “You’re… a fucking, an egotistical man child, you know that? Who says I want to be your new toy to break?”
Subong studied his face. Namgyu felt his own lips tremble, at the lack of reaction. Finally, the other man exhaled, shaking his head and letting the purple (though now lilac more than anything) strands of hair cover his eyes. “Is this the worst you can come up with?” he asked.
“...Yes.” Namgyu said, voice already wobbly. Here came the inevitable, he thought.
Instead, Thanos, chuckled, deep and light at the same time. “C’mhere,” already sitting on the couch, he reached an arm out and pulled Namgyu into a tight hug. He tried to wrestle his way out, but it was to no avail. Subong’s grip on him was strong, hands stroking his back in weird patterns.
“You’re such a jealous little bitch, Namsu,” came from above in his bleary state. “Scaring me shitless. To lose you over something so stupid, would be…”
Namgyu didn’t remember what happened afterwards, fallen silent, probably crying, definitely passing out at some point.
Aftermath.
He woke up the next morning, predictably, feeling like shit. Well, woke up was probably a strong word. He started falling in and out of consciousness around noon.
First time Namgyu opened his eyes he was met with Thanos already looking at him, promptly standing up when he got caught staring. By 2 p.m. Namgyu had finally stumbled out of their bedroom (bedroom?he was pretty sure he fell asleep on the couch), to the bathroom and then the kitchen, led by the enticing smell of black coffee.
Thanos was on his laptop in the kitchen, looking at the screen with furrowed brows, seemingly in thought. Namgyu stood in the doorway, acutely aware of his bed hair, a stain on his home T-shirt (and when did he change from his outside clothes?), and chipped nail polish he was scratching off with his thumb. Thanos on the contrary looked surprisingly put together, in his pink hoodie and grey sweatpants Namgyu despised for two very polar reasons (it being cliche was the first one, and nevertheless working in drawing the attention to all the wrong places was the second).
“So,” he started awkwardly, “yesterday happened.”
Startled Thanos lifted his eyes, giving him a once over. “Yeah,” he smirked, emotion unreadable.
“You were great on stage you know,” Namgyu suddenly felt the need to say.
“You think so?” Subong moved from the table a little bit, putting some distance between himself and the laptop. As if allowing Namgyu to come closer.
“Yeah,” he said and did just that, approaching the other man and, only a little hesitantly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Whatcha have here?”
“Sit down, I’ll show you,” Namgyu looked around, moving to bring the chair from the other side, before he felt two arms circling around his waist and bringing him down into Thanos’ lap. “Don’t start acting like a virgin now,” the latter mumbled, putting his head on his shoulder from behind.
Namgyu took his time, wiggling while settling in on Thanos’ lap as a little payback for his loud mouth. The other man audibly sighed, lightly punching his shin under the table with his own, but otherwise stayed quiet.
When Namgyu finally turned his attention to the screen, his jaw went slack. Thanos had opened his twitter, which, if Namgyu recalled correctly, he didn’t use in ages, even before his break. In front of them was someone’s post with the clip from yesterday’s party when Thanos announced he was dating someone. It had tens of thousands likes, and a significant number of quote tweets. “Damn,” Namgyu breathed out. Thanos hummed behind him, clicking first on the opened Instagram tab displaying a similar situation, to then the open search on Google with multiple articles from local music and hip-hop publications talking about the same thing.
“So,” Thanos started, “guess your plan worked, huh.”
“Not exactly what I had in mind but… I guess it did,” Namgyu turned his head back to properly look at the man behind him.
“What do you wanna do?” Thanos asked, not lifting the head from his shoulder.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, now that you know who I meant when I said it,” Thanos removed his head and arms from him, stretching before leaning on the back of the chair, “the ball is in your court.”
They looked at each other, the tension Namgyu felt before resurfacing with full force. He studied Subong. The curve of his lips, his tired eyes, who he now was; he recollected the memory of the man he met at Pentagon and then found again in the games. Namgyu turned in his lap, their bodies facing each other now, a small yet such a significant distance still between them.
“Did you put me to bed yesterday?”
“Eh, you were still conscious then, so I only really helped you change.”
Namgyu sighed, putting his forehead against Subong’s. “I’m a fucking mess.”
“So am I. But somehow, you put me back together.”
“Shut- You can’t just say things like that,” Namgyu sighed, pain and hope and fear and tenderness, and pain again mixed in his voice.
“I just did.”
“Fine,” he gave up. “Then, as your accidental PR manager, I say keep up the intrigue, don’t reveal the name or the face of that person yet, at least until you know you’re solid. Also think about the whole coming out issue.”
“Uh huh,” Thanos hummed, obviously only half listening. “And what would you say as Namgyu, the prettiest thing I’ve ever held, sporting a semi and looking at me like I hung the moon?”
“I’m not-“
“Yes, you are. I don’t know which of the statements you were going to argue with, but they’re all correct, so.”
Namgyu sighed, dropping his head down and rubbing his face in Subong’s neck, breathing him in.
“Well, then I’d probably say… I missed you, baby, dinner’s in the kitchen?” He vaguely gestured at himself.
Subong laughed, a ramble that Namgyu could feel in his own body, due to their proximity.
He used that moment to press their chests fully flush against each other, leaning over the other man’s ear to whisper. “Take me if you’ll have me.”
Thanos hummed, a deep and content thing, finishing the line in his own head. I’ll have you every night, drown only in my arms. It was his lyrics from the recent release after all.
An idea blossomed in Namgyu’s mind, “Was this one about -?” He pointed at himself before being interrupted.
Subong reached for his neck, finding and stroking the pulse there, kissing it, making the skin bruise. “They fucking all are, nothing I could do about it.”
Their lips met then, and it felt like a promise. Like there was an end to the constant itch between Namgyu’s ribs, like there was a sound to fill the black hole between Subong’s.