Chapter Text
The Pentagon Club was on fire.
Not literally, but close. Lights flickered like they were alive, bass vibrating through the walls, every surface glowing with that perfect balance of luxury and chaos. People danced like they didn’t care who was watching… or maybe because everyone was. Tables overflowed with bottles no one ordered for the taste. It was that kind of night.
And then the door opened.
The rapper, Thanos, walked in like he owned the place. As soon as he stepped through the door, there was that moment where everything kind of shifted. Not in some deep, mystical way or anything. More like people just... noticed him. Some guy in the back almost knocked over his drink when he stared for a second too long. Thanos barely looked in his direction. He was just here for a drink, a little people-watching, and maybe some peace. He didn’t need nor want to make a scene.
He walked past the crowd, not pushing through, just moving with that kind of “I’m here, deal with it” confidence. The rapper looked like he belonged in a place like this: all the flashy outfits and neon lights everywhere. But that’s exactly why people gave him space. Thanos didn’t care. He wasn’t here for the attention.
Thanos slid up to the bar like he’d done it a hundred times before.
Nothing dramatic. Just another guy in a packed club, looking to take the edge off. The place was loud, hot, and borderline too crowded, but somehow, it still worked. Lights flashing, bodies moving, the music hitting just right. Classic Friday chaos.
He waited a sec, leaned his arm on the bar. The bartender was busy juggling three orders and a minor existential crisis, but eventually locked eyes with him.
“Something light,” Thanos said. “Surprise me.”
The bartender didn’t ask questions—just gave a quick nod and started mixing. A minute later, she handed over a Hugo spritz. Light, fizzy, green-tinted with mint leaves floating on top. Looked kinda bougie, but Thanos took it like it was water.
He sipped.
Not bad.
He posted up in a quiet corner of the bar, just watching. Not lurking, not doing that weird guy-at-the-club thing: just chilling. Soaking it in. There was a group already three drinks deep, singing along to a song that definitely didn’t need singing. Two people in matching outfits were arguing without trying to be subtle. And somewhere near the DJ booth, someone was trying way too hard to be mysterious.
Thanos just drank his drink and didn’t think too hard about any of it.
For now, things felt solid. No drama. No weird energy. Just noise, drinks, and the blur of a good night in progress.
He finished the drink slowly, letting the glass chill his fingers.
It was one of those moments that didn’t seem important—but always ends up mattering later.
The club didn’t stop.
It never did. That was the point.
Past the bar, past the dancefloor, past the half-smashed bottle glinting under a table no one remembered tipping over… things moved in the dark. Not everything at the Pentagon Club was meant to be seen. Most people weren’t even looking.
Everyone was too busy pretending to be the main character.
But near the edge of the floor, half in shadow, Nam-Gyu was getting pulled away.
He laughed at first: reflex, habit. The fake kind, light and easy. Just enough to keep the mood smooth. He’d seen these guys before. Clean watches. Ugly shoes. The kind of smile that said they didn’t need to ask twice.
“C’mon,” one of them said, gripping his wrist harder than necessary. “You know the room.”
Nam-Gyu glanced around. No one was watching. Or if they were, they weren’t doing anything about it.
That was the real rule here: look away and drink faster.
“I’ve got another table. Some regulars. Big spenders.” He tried to play it off.
The guy laughed, low and close to his ear. “We’re bigger.”
And that was it. No asking, no deal, just pressure. One hand on his back, another on his arm. Quick nods exchanged between them like this was routine… and maybe it was.
They moved toward the VIP stairs.
Nam-Gyu hesitated. Dug his heels in just slightly.
“Yo- slow down,” he said, not loud, but not quiet either. His smile dropped. “I said I’ve got a table.”
The grip on his wrist tightened.
One of the men leaned in, voice sharp now. “You don’t want to make this complicated.”
Nam-Gyu looked up at him. There was a flicker of defiance, of fear, of something just under the surface, and for a second, he didn’t move.
And the music just kept going.
Thanos didn’t mean to get involved.
But something about the way that guy was being dragged: fake laugh, stiff shoulders, eyes scanning for a way out, hit wrong. Too familiar. Too rehearsed. Like this wasn’t the first time.
He watched the hand on Nam-Gyu’s lower back. The grip on his wrist. The quiet tension in his jaw.
It wasn’t flirting and it wasn’t a game.
Thanos set his glass down on the bar. The ice clinked. He stood, jaw tight. He didn’t think, didn’t plan. Just moved.
The two men were halfway up the VIP stairs when he called out:
“Yo.”
They didn’t stop.
“Yo! Hey!”
Nam-Gyu’s head jerked toward him, startled. The taller guy finally turned, scowling.
“You got a problem?” he asked, like he already knew the answer but wanted to hear it anyway.
Thanos kept walking. “Yeah. I got a big one.”
The second man, slick hair, cocky grin, chuckled and tugged Nam-Gyu closer. “Back off, tough guy. He’s ours tonight.”
Nam-Gyu flinched. Just barely.
Thanos stopped at the foot of the stairs, “He’s not yours.”
The first man stepped down a few stairs. “Look, man. Why don’t you take that attitude somewhere else? This is club business.”
“This is gonna be rape,” Thanos said purposelt raising his voice. “You think that’s gonna fly just ‘cause you paid someone off?”
The word landed like a slap. People started turning. Ears sharpened. The lights still flashed, but the music didn’t seem quite as loud anymore.
Thanos looked past them, right at Nam-Gyu.
“You alright?” he asked, voice low but direct.
Nam-Gyu was frozen, his mouth opened, but nothing came out, staring with his eyes wide, breathing shallow. Slowly, barely noticeable, he shook his head.
Thanos locked back onto the guy holding him.
“Last chance,” Thanos said, voice low. “Let him go.”
The man’s jaw clenched. “You don’t know who you’re talking to.”
Thanos took a step forward. “Don’t care.” Another step. “Let. Him. Go.”
His fists were at his sides now. And for the first time, the guy’s smirk faltered. But the guy gave him an answer anyway; just not with words.
“You’re gonna regret this,” the taller man muttered, then turned to Nam-Gyu. “Keep playing cute, see what happens.”
He jerked Nam-Gyu’s arm up sharply, twisting it behind his back with a rough motion.
Nam-Gyu cried out at it, involuntarily. His whole body twisted with it, shoulder wrenched at an ugly angle.
That was it.
Thanos moved.
And fast.
He was on the guy in seconds, ripping him off Nam-Gyu and slamming him back against the stair railing so hard the metal rattled. The man’s eyes went wide, wind knocked clean out of him.
The second guy didn’t hesitate, he lunged at Thanos with a snarl.
Thanos ducked low, turned, and drove a solid elbow into his gut making the guy fold, gasping, and crumple against the wall.
Nam-Gyu was pushed by the first man, he hit the stairs hard, holding his arm, breathing in fast, shaky bursts. His face was white, lips parted in shock.
And then: chaos.
The crowd surged, someone screamed, the music stuttered and cut out.
Then the bouncers swarmed in.
Two had Thanos by the arms before he could go in for another hit. Another big one stepped in, shielding Nam-Gyu with his back, hand raised toward the two men like a warning.
Phones were up the second the fight broke out. shaky clips catching Thanos slamming a guy into the railing, fists flying, the bouncers stepping in. No edits, no commentary: just raw footage. It got uploaded fast. A couple posts. A few tags. Nothing major yet. Just people sharing what they saw.
“Enough!” his voice barked, snapping through the static. “Take that shit outside!”
Thanos didn’t fight the grip. He just stood there, breathing hard, blood on his lip, eyes locked on the man still wheezing against the rail.
The taller one recovered enough to point. “He assaulted us! That lunatic just attacked-”
“You’re lucky that’s all he did,” the bouncer snapped, cutting him off. “I saw what you did to him.”
Nam-Gyu was still on the stairs, cradling his arm, stunned into silence. He didn’t look at anyone… just stared down at the floor like he wasn’t sure what was real anymore.
Thanos looked at him. Softened, for just a second, then he let the bouncers drag him away. He didn’t fight the bouncers. He didn’t have the energy to.
They pushed him toward the door, and for a second, the cool night air hit his skin, the muffled sound of the club's chaos lingering behind him. He barely noticed the people around, just keeping his head low, focused on the ground beneath his feet.
But then, a voice cut through the night.
“Yo! Yo!”
At first, it was just a couple of people, but soon enough, a small crowd gathered, phones raised, eyes lighting up with recognition.
“Is that Thanos?” someone asked, disbelief hanging in their voice.
“No way, that’s him! The rapper!” another person shouted, half in awe.
Thanos didn’t respond. He didn’t stop walking either, just let the bouncers guide him toward the street, hoping it’d be over soon.
But the crowd pressed in, following, the phones clicking relentlessly.
“Yo, what happened back there?” someone asked, trying to get a glimpse of his face on his phone’s camera.
Thanos ignored them, continuing his slow march, every step another tug from the bouncers. But the questions kept coming.
“Are you good, Thanos? Why did you beat them?” one of them asked, as another person shoved their phone in his face. “You just went off in there! What’s next? Are you going on tour?”
They surrounded him now, like he was some sort of famous painting, cameras flashing in his face. But Thanos kept walking, just mumbling something.
It was one of the bouncers who spoke up. “Hey, hey—back off,” he barked, his hand pushing the crowd back just enough. “You don’t know what you’re looking at.”
The crowd hesitated, sensing the change in tone. “That man wasn’t doing what you think he was,” the bouncer continued, his voice low but firm. “You see those guys?” He pointed back to the club entrance. “The one he went after? He wasn’t there to party. He wasn’t there for anything good. What you saw wasn’t just some bar fight. That man was about to do something way worse, and Thanos-” he shot a look at the crowd, “he stepped up. He saved a worker there. So don’t go pretending like you saw anything else.”
The crowd fell silent for a moment, then they started cheering for him.
The bouncer nodded once, then turned to Thanos. “Go on, man. You’re good.”
Thanos didn’t even glance at the crowd, just kept moving, his face a mask of indifference.
The people around him murmured among themselves, phones lowered for just a moment as they processed what they’d just heard. But it wasn’t long before a few started murmuring, “Damn, he really did that?” while others nodded.
Another video caught the aftermath outside, Thanos silent while a bouncer laid out exactly what had happened.
As the bouncers ushered Thanos away, the crowd started to thin, the whispers carrying through the night.
And just like that, the legend of Thanos shifted. No longer just the extra guy on stage, the rapper with the fame, but the one who’d stepped into the dark to stop something that could have gone horrible.
Thanos didn’t say a word.
Once the crowd lost interest he slipped around the side of the club into the alley, dark and quiet, just far enough from the chaos to finally breathe.
He leaned against the wall, pulled out his vape with hands still shaking a little, and took a long drag. The warmth steadied him. Not much, but enough. His lip was bleeding, and his knuckles stung, but he didn’t care.
He exhaled slowly, eyes closed.
Then…
Soft footsteps.
He turned slightly.
Nam-Gyu stood a few feet away, one arm cradled against his chest, eyes wide but less scared.
He didn’t say anything and Thanos didn’t either. He just looked at him for a second, then offered the vape without a word.
Nam-Gyu hesitated. Then, slowly, he stepped forward, took it from Thanos’s hand, and brought it to his lips.
They didn’t speak, and didn't need to.
The club hummed behind them, but here? It was still, quiet. Breathing space.
Nam-Gyu took a slow drag, then handed the vape back. His fingers trembled as he did.
Thanos caught it gently, eyes flicking down to Nam-Gyu’s arm, still clutched tight to his side. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, quietly, barely more than a whisper, Nam-Gyu said “I think it’s broken.”
Thanos looked at him. Nam-Gyu didn’t meet his eyes. “My arm. I can’t move it right. Hurts like hell.”
Another pause.
“I should go to the hospital,” he said, voice tighter now, like admitting it made the pain sharper. “But… I don’t wanna go alone.”
Finally, he looked up. “Can you… come with me?”
Thanos didn’t hesitate. “Yeah,” he said simply. “I’ll go with you.”
Nam-Gyu blinked, like he wasn’t expecting that to come so easily. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something else, maybe he was ready to bed, maybe he wanted to thank him, but nothing came out.
Thanos just slipped off his jacket, hot pink and a bit sparkly, loud, way too extra- and held it out.
“Here,” he said. “It’s cold. And that thing you’re wearing...”
Nam-Gyu looked down at the glittery, short club uniform—tight, sheer in places, meant to catch light, not hide anything. His shoulders tensed.
He took the jacket.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, slipping it on with his good arm.
It swallowed him.
Thanos nodded once, then jerked his head toward the street. “C’mon. Let’s get that arm looked at.”
They started walking slow, side by side. No rush.
The walk to the hospital wasn’t long, but it felt stretched out and quiet. Nam-Gyu stayed close, not quite leaning on Thanos, but not far either. The pain in his arm was setting in hard now, adrenaline fading and reality creeping in. His steps were stiff. Every bump in the sidewalk made him wince.
Thanos didn’t say much. He kept a slow pace, hands in his pockets. His hot pink jacket looked absurd on Nam-Gyu, like something borrowed from a dream or a music video, but it covered him, and that was the point.
The city didn’t care about either of them. Cars passed, people laughed outside convenience stores, lights blinked across empty apartments. Just another Friday night and just another couple of ghosts moving through it.
By the time they reached the hospital, Nam-Gyu’s forehead had a thin sheen of sweat, and his face was pale beneath the club makeup. Thanos pushed through the glass doors first, held them open with a nod. The ER was dimly lit, not so busy, the waiting room full of tired eyes and glowing phone screens. A nurse looked up as they walked in.
Nam-Gyu tried to explain, but his voice cracked halfway through.
Thanos stepped in. “His arm’s probably broken,” he said, flat. “Needs X-rays.”
The nurse nodded and gestured toward a chair. “We’ll get him triaged.”
Nam-Gyu sat down slowly, holding the arm like it might fall off if he let go. He glanced up at Thanos.
“You don’t have to stay.”
Thanos looked at him like he’d just asked if water was wet. “I said I’d stay.”
That was it.
They sat together in plastic chairs, surrounded by coughs and quiet sobs. Time moved weird. A nurse finally called Nam-Gyu in. Thanos watched him disappear behind the swinging doors, then leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.
He didn’t know why he was still here.
But he was.
And when Nam-Gyu came back out after an hour or so, his arm wrapped in a cast, painkillers in hand and his eyes bleary but clearer, Thanos stood up without a word.
“They said I was lucky,” Nam-Gyu muttered. “Greenstick fracture. Could’ve been worse.”
Thanos gave a nod, not sure what a green stick was.
Nam-Gyu shifted awkwardly in the oversized jacket, looking up at him. “Thanks for coming.”
Thanos shrugged. “Didn’t feel right to leave.”
Nam-Gyu smiled, just barely. “You’re weird.”
“You’re wearing my jacket.”
“Yeah, well…” Nam-Gyu glanced down at it, a little smirk forming. “You’ve got taste.”
Thanos didn’t smile back, not exactly. But something in his face eased, like the tension he carried all night was finally cracking at the edges.
“C’mon,” he said. “You hungry?”
Nam-Gyu blinked. “I just got my arm set.”
Thanos nodded toward the exit. “Didn’t ask if you were ready. Asked if you were hungry.”
Nam-Gyu stood slowly, teeth gritted as he touched the cast. “I could eat.”
They left the hospital together, not talking much, not rushing.
They ended up at a Burger King a few blocks from the hospital. It wasn’t glamorous, flickering lights, greasy counters, that faint burnt oil smell that clung to your clothes… but it was open. And it was quiet.
Nam-Gyu hovered just inside the entrance, arms tucked into Thanos’s oversized pink jacket, eyes scanning the menu like he was trying to calculate what hunger felt like in won.
“I’m good,” he muttered when they got to the counter, stepping back. “I’ll just sit down.”
Thanos turned, one brow lifting. “You’re not eating?”
Nam-Gyu shrugged with one shoulder, gaze fixed on the floor. “Don’t have money.”
Thanos blinked. “You thought I’d make you pay?”
Nam-Gyu looked up, unsure how to answer that.
Thanos shook his head, already turning to the cashier, ordering two burgers, two large cokes, large fries and 10 nuggets to share.
Nam-Gyu followed slowly, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to. When the tray came, stacked high with food and two giant drinks, Thanos handed one of the wrapped burgers toward him without ceremony.
“Sit.”
They dropped into a booth by the window. Outside, the city had gone still—just the hush of traffic in the distance, a blinking crosswalk light switching over and over for no one.
Nam-Gyu peeled back the wrapper and took a bite, almost cautious. Then a second, faster, like something cracked open inside him. The food hit hard.
Thanos watched quietly, picking at the fries. He let Nam-Gyu eat for a bit before he spoke.
“How does a hooker have no money?”
It wasn’t cruel, it was just a real curiosity he had.
Nam-Gyu kept chewing, slower now. “Because I’m bad at it,” he said finally. “Or maybe just unlucky. Or because I spend everything trying not to feel like myself.”
He rubbed his thumb over the edge of the paper cup, eyes on nothing. “I’m homeless. Couch when I can find a kinder client, street when I can’t. Most of the money goes to food or... whatever helps. Some pills, or sometimes harder than just that.”
Thanos didn’t flinch or make a face, he just nodded. “I get it. I use it too. Not heavy stuff, just enough to quiet the noise.”
Nam-Gyu glanced at him. “You really don’t care?”
“If I cared, I wouldn’t be here.”
They fell into a slow silence filled with no judgment. Just the soft clatter of trays and the buzz of dying light.
Nam-Gyu pushed the rest of his fries toward Thanos. “You saved me tonight.”
“You’re wearing my jacket,” Thanos said.
“That’s not an answer.”
Thanos picked up a fry and tossed it at Nam-Gyu’s head. “Eat.”
It bounced off his bangs and landed on the table. Nam-Gyu blinked, then laughed, surprised, and a little hoarse. But real. It felt almost dangerous, like hope.
They sat there more, eating; Thanos chewed slowly, watching Nam-Gyu pick at the last of the nuggets like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to keep eating or just keep talking.
After a moment, Thanos broke the silence.
“So... why that job?”
Nam-Gyu didn’t answer right away. He stared down at the tray, at the smudge of ketchup on the wrapper. Then he sighed and leaned back against the plastic seat, wincing as his injured arm shifted.
“Because I don’t have a proper education,” he said. “Because I’ve got no real skills… and because I need money and I don’t have time to pretend I’m someone I’m not.”
Thanos stayed quiet, listening.
Then Nam-Gyu glanced at him. “And because I went to jail. That kind of kills your job prospects.”
Thanos’s brow twitched. “Jail?”
Nam-Gyu nodded once. “Three years.”
“For what?”
Nam-Gyu swallowed. His jaw clenched. For a second, Thanos thought he might shut down, but then the words started coming, slow, like they had weight.
“My ex almost killed me. He used to…” he gestured vaguely, then stopped. “He met me through the club and immediately assumed I would be just a hole for him. For both years together. Anyway, one night I fought back. I stabbed him before he could. Didn’t even kill him, but they didn’t care. Cops saw a bloody scene, me standing there, no one listened.”
He looked away, probably fearing judging coming from Thanos.
“No one checked the bruises. Or the hospital records. Or the neighbor’s report from the week before. Took three years before some bored intern in the public defender’s office finally gave a damn. Proved it was self-defense. Judge dropped it. But by then…” He gave a bitter laugh. “Too late. Record was already tattooed on my life.”
Thanos didn’t speak. His expression didn’t change. But his fingers drummed slowly on the table, a quiet rhythm, like something was boiling under the surface.
Nam-Gyu turned back to him. “So yeah. That’s why. Selling myself’s the only job I can actually get. And honestly? It’s easier than pretending to be normal. I’m not.”
Thanos leaned back, exhaled through his nose, and looked out the window.
“People don’t listen until they want to,” he said. “And by then, you’ve already bled out.”
Nam-Gyu blinked, surprised by how simply he’d put it. How true it was. He didn’t know what to say after that. Neither of them did, but for once, the silence between them didn’t feel empty. It felt understood.
By the time they finished eating, it was creeping up on 2 a.m. The wrappers were balled up between them, the drinks mostly flat, and Nam-Gyu’s eyelids were starting to droop despite the ache in his arm.
Thanos stood first, stretching his arms behind his back with a crack of his neck. Nam-Gyu followed, a bit slower, the hospital band still snug around his wrist, the pink jacket hanging off him like a big ass flag.
“I was supposed to be clocking out just now.” Nam-Gyu said as they stepped out into the empty street, his voice light, a little uncertain. “Shift ends at two.”
Thanos raised a brow. “You going back?”
Nam-Gyu shook his head. “Hell no.”
Thanos smirked.
The air outside had cooled, carrying that deep-night stillness where the city felt like it was holding its breath. Neon signs flickered lazily in convenience store windows. A bus rolled by half-empty, trailing stale exhaust. The streets weren’t dead—just quiet in that strange, liminal way. A city between pulses.
“Wanna walk?” Thanos asked.
Nam-Gyu looked at him, then nodded. “Yeah. I don’t really feel like sleeping.”
They walked side by side, no destination, just letting the sidewalk carry them, their footsteps echoed in the hush. Thanos hit his vape once, then passed it to Nam-Gyu without a word, and Nam-Gyu took it.
They passed a shuttered bakery, a laundromat glowing blue behind its windows, a little alley with cigarette butts scattered like breadcrumbs.
It wasn’t until they reached the bridge, quiet and wide, streetlights painting the pavement gold, that Nam-Gyu said, “I never caught your name.”
Thanos looked at him. For a second, he hesitated like it didn’t matter. Then he shrugged.
“Thanos.”
Nam-Gyu raised an eyebrow. “Like… the purple guy?”
Thanos rolled his eyes. “Nah. Stage name. It stuck. People remembered it.” Then silence followed for a couple of seconds. “...it’s Su-Bong, but I prefer Thanos.”
Nam-Gyu smiled, the faintest curl at the edge of his mouth. “Okay, Thanos.” He held out his hand, a little awkward but sincere. “Nam-Gyu.”
They shook, a brief touch. Thanos didn’t say anything, but he didn’t let go right away either.
And beneath the hum of the city, something quiet settled between them.
Not peace, exactly, but something close.
They sat by the bridge, Thanos hit his vape once, a different color now, then passed it to Nam-Gyu without a word: he took it, weirded out by the color change and hit it, inhaling deeply… then immediately coughed, almost choking on the sweetness.
“God, what the hell is that?” Nam-Gyu laughed, a surprised, genuine sound.
Thanos raised an eyebrow. “It’s mango-pineapple.”
Nam-Gyu wrinkled his nose, still grinning. “Mango-pineapple? You’re a grown man, not a toddler at a juice bar.”
Thanos smirked, taking the vape back. “Hey, I like it. Don’t judge me.”
Nam-Gyu burst into a laugh, shaking his head. “I’m just saying, I didn’t expect that flavor from someone like you. Thought you’d go for, I don’t know, something darker. Like... I dunno, whiskey-flavored?”
Thanos raised the vape to his lips, giving him a mock-offended look. “What, you think I’m a walking stereotype?”
“Maybe,” Nam-Gyu teased, nudging him with his shoulder. “Just a little bit.”
Thanos shook his head with a low chuckle, shaking off the weird tension that had hung around both of them for most of the night. For a moment, it felt like they could both breathe again.
“Fine, fine,” he said, “I’ll try something more ‘mature’ next time.”
Nam-Gyu smirked. “I’m just joking. I like cotton candy… or cherry.”
They both laughed, the sound easy, like something shifting into place.
They got up and resumed walking, the city’s buzz fading behind them as they moved further into the quieter part of town. The streetlights cast long shadows across the sidewalk, and the night air felt colder now, carrying the faint rustle of leaves from the nearby trees. The further they walked, the more the world seemed to slow down.
Eventually, they reached a park, empty except for a few scattered benches and the faint echo of distant traffic. It was peaceful, the kind of place that felt untouched by the chaos of the city. The path through the park was lined with old, twisted trees, their branches creaking slightly in the wind.
Thanos stopped, looking out over the park. “I come here sometimes to clear my head. Place’s dead at night, though. No one bothers you.”
Nam-Gyu stood beside him for a moment, just breathing in the quiet. There was something soothing about the emptiness, the way the park seemed to hold its breath.
“You live nearby?” Nam-Gyu asked, his voice quieter now, the light teasing gone from his tone.
Thanos shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets. “Not too far.”
Nam-Gyu nodded, then sat down on one of the benches. He still looked a little unsure, a little fragile, but there was something calming about the moment, like they were both allowed to just exist for a while without anything expected of them.
He looked up at Thanos. “You, uh... ever have nights like this? Just... walk around for no reason?”
Thanos took a seat next to him, his gaze wandering toward the moonlit trees. “Not really when it’s this late. But tonight’s different.”
Nam-Gyu leaned back, letting the cool air wrap around him. “Yeah. It is.”
“Do you?”
“When I can’t find a street to sleep in, yeah.”
For a while, neither of them spoke. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Just the two of them, quiet in the night. The weight of the day, of everything that had happened… seemed to dissipate here, in this small, forgotten corner of the city. And maybe that was enough for now.
Thanos glanced over at him. “You okay?”
Nam-Gyu nodded slowly, his eyes still focused on the dark shapes of the trees swaying above them. “Yeah... I think I’m starting to be.”
It was a small thing, but at that moment, it felt like a big shift. For the first time in a long time, Nam-Gyu didn’t feel like he was running from something. And maybe, just maybe, it was okay to stop for a while.
The night went on, quiet. A car drove in the distance, tires humming against asphalt, and then the world went silent again. Just wind in the trees. A creaky park swing shifting slightly with no one on it.
Nam-Gyu leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely. His shoulders weren’t so tight anymore. He looked like someone learning how to breathe again.
Thanos didn’t say anything right away. He just studied the side of Nam-Gyu’s face for a moment, how the dim light illuminated him, or how tired he looked. Then, finally, he spoke.
“You want to crash at my place?”
Nam-Gyu looked over, blinking like he hadn’t heard right. Thanos didn’t ask again or joke about it, instead he started feeling awkward, thinking he asked too early, or something lile that…
“It’s not much,” he added “One-bedroom. Couch is comfy, and it’s warm. And no one’ll kick you out in the morning.”
Nam-Gyu stared at him, then down at his hands. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, like the right words were out of reach. Finally, he just nodded.
“Yeah,” he said, a little unsure. “Okay.”
He didn’t say thank you yet, and Thanos didn’t need him to.
The walk to Thanos’s apartment was faster than the walk they had until now. Nam-Gyu still had the pink jacket wrapped on him, and Thanos was bouncing a little with each step, vape in hand, head bobbing and hand mixing an invisible record to a beat only he could hear.
“Almost there,” he suddenly said, tossing a glance over his shoulder. “You’re not allergic to cats, right?”
Nam-Gyu blinked. “You have a cat?”
Thanos grinned. “Nah, but the neighbor’s cat breaks in sometimes. He’s cool. He sells good weed.”
The building they reached wasn’t fancy, but it had personality. Hand-painted door numbers, potted plants lining the stairwell like they were trying to organize a rebellion, and wind chimes tied with rainbow yarn. Thanos punched in the code on the pad, then the door unlocked, and he held it for Nam-Gyu.
“Welcome to Thanos’s world!” he said.
The apartment was small but loud… in color, in texture, in warmth. The walls were covered in band and random posters, doodles, and polaroids stuck up with tape. A lava lamp glowed softly in the corner, red and orange. The couch was ugly in a charming way, draped with a bright green and yellow cover, and covered in mismatched pillows that looked like they’d all come from different unicorns.
“Shoes off,” Thanos said, kicking his own into a corner already occupied by three other pairs. “It’s a no-shoes zone.”
Nam-Gyu stepped in, blinking at the kaleidoscope of the room. It was cluttered, yeah, but the kind of clutter that belonged to someone who liked things, and who made space for himself.
“You live here alone?” he asked.
Thanos disappeared into the kitchen. “Yup. Used to have a roommate, but he fell in love and moved out. Now it’s just me and the cat… sometimes.”
He came back holding a blanket and a pillow, tossing them onto the couch. “That couch is magic, by the way. Slept like a baby on it when it was too hot last summer.”
Nam-Gyu let himself sink into it, just a little. It really was softer than it looked.
“I’ve got ramen if you’re still hungry,” Thanos added, peeking into a cupboard. “Or chips. Or popcorn. Or… wait, I think I have leftover tteokbokki if you don’t mind it cold.”
Nam-Gyu shook his head, a smile creeping in. “I’m good. Just tired.”
Thanos turned, leaning against the counter. “Cool. Bathroom’s there, don’t mind the sticker on the mirror. That’s from my niece. She thinks I’m a princess.”
Nam-Gyu snorted. “Honestly? Not that far off.”
“Rude!” Thanos said, smirking. “But fair.”
He lingered a moment, then nodded once toward the couch. “Sleep as long as you want. You wake up needing anything, just yell. Or don’t. I’m a light sleeper. I’ll probably sense it like a haunted house.”
Nam-Gyu watched him disappear into the bedroom, door left slightly ajar, soft light spilling out.
The quiet that followed wasn’t sad: it was gentle, like the place itself was exhaling. He looked around again, taking it in. The photos, the colors, the cake-shaped mug on the shelf with “Thanos” scrawled on it in glitter pen.
For the first time in a long time, a stranger’s home didn’t feel like a warning sign. It felt like a space carved out of chaos, bright, weird, and alive.
He pulled the blanket around his shoulders and let the warmth of it all settle in. And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t brace himself before closing his eyes.