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“I’m not always gonna be here.”
“Wow, real deep, Nam-Su.”
The black-haired boy’s expression soured, invalidation dancing in his eyes. “Seriously, you’re gonna get hurt one day.” “It’s a few bruises,” Thanos sneered.
Truthfully, it was more than that: Cut lips, bloody eyes, bruises large like continents, and exposed muscle in the knuckles. It was gunk-soaked bandages across his arms and wounds with inadequate healing time, but worst of all, Nam-Gyu saw the mental aspect of it.
How Thanos snapped his neck by the second, looking for the smallest of threats, how tremors inhibited his regular strutting, and how any past of emotional regulation was tossed aside for bloodied knuckles and a broken wall.
Nam-Gyu sighed, trembling as he applied Neosporin to the purple-haired boy atop the bathroom counter. “One day, I’ll be busy. Sleeping, taking a shit, at home, talking to someone else, and I won’t stop you in time.” Thanos smiled and tilted his head back onto the mirror. “You don’t talk to other people.”
He smudged the alcohol wipe harder than necessary, hoping Thanos would wince, pull away, anything. Something to prove he wasn’t another mindless animal, but Nam-Gyu knew he was worse than that.
The shorter boy didn’t understand, couldn’t compute why Thanos would do this. He wasn’t sadistic and compulsive like Nam-Gyu, arrogant and angry like MG Coin, or protective and kind-hearted like Dae-ho. No, he was something of a different nature, one Nam-Gyu could never explore due to the walls surrounding every peak of it.
“Stressing over me? C’mon cutie, I don’t cry over this shit.” ‘Though Nam-Gyu might,’ Was left unsaid. ‘I’m terribly worried about you,’ Was left under his tongue. ‘Please,’ Was hanging over them in the air.
Nam-Gyu thought harder: Thanos wasn’t violent or attention-seeking. Maybe on the surface of this fucked up pool, but something more sinister bubbled at the bottom. Nam-Gyu’s eyes fluttered to the white lines encasing Thanos’s arms. The boy, even with a wide smile and wiggling fingers, seemed half dead, and his other half flailed awkwardly between death and a life chasing death.
He grimaced, voice hushed enough to be missed, “Who hurt you?” Thanos could say a lot to this question: His beaten, homogenous mother, his psychotically religious father, his mom’s weird boyfriends, or the pastor always hugging him too intimately. He could mention the Vicodin in his soup incident, the ignored infections, and the closet full of spiders acting as his 5-day time-out. He could mention the rock-throwing at his old school, his used textbooks dunked in overflowing sinks, or being shipped off to a white floor in the hospital occupied with fellow yellers and hitters. But, all that shit is secondary–excuses you throw to your boss to hide the real reason of your tardiness.
Not his parents, not the fucks at school, him. It was always him. Since he was born, nothing soothed his cries like a head whip to the wall. Thanos stared indifferently at the ceiling. “Don’t get all weird on me, Nam-Su.” “...Nam-Gyu.” “Yeah, that’s what I said.”
Silence weighed unnaturally, soon flushed out by Thanos’s cross opening. The pills stood dully under the light. Nam-Gyu swayed closer subconsciously. “Little junkie,” Thanos mumbled as he balanced the pills on his fingers. Nam-Gyu ignored their swollen and purple appearance for the sake of peace-keeping.
~
“Honeyyy…Honey! C’mon, please, my boy.”
“Thanos, it’s 3 in the morning. What’s going on?”
Sleep evacuated as soon as the unique ringtone for Thanos lit up his room. “I,” Cackles cut through the speaker, “Need a ride. oH-Honeyyy-Honeyyy please. Don’t leave me hanging with the trees.” With Thanos’s voice trailing into song in the background, Nam-Gyu grabbed his keys, forgoing shoes to find the boy quicker.
His fucked-up car screeched down the street, the line with Thanos growing heavier with confusion. “Yeah, I’m just by…uh like…like the-the Waffle House! I’m at Waffle House, thank you!”
Nam-Gyu’s voice shook, lips disagreeing with his soft tone, “O…kay, I’ll be there in a sec, just stay put.” The pill bottle in the cup holder rattled as the car stopped–a pill bottle that Thanos had brought him. A pill bottle that Thanos had gone to a dealer for, tasted them himself, and tossed the scraps to Nam-Gyu. He hurled them to the back of the car.
The building was dingy and pathetic, matching the purple-haired man who was stumbling out of it and slamming inside his car.
“Honnney!” Nam-Gyu gripped the wheel. Thanos leaned in, cheek smashed against Nam-Gyu’s shoulder, the smell of alcohol and foul smoke staining his shirt. He could be angry–to scream obscenities, and kick Thanos to the curb like a bad dog in cage training.
“What were you doing at Waffle House?” “Okay, okay-” The car chugging forward masked Thanos’s hiccups, “First, I was at this hookah place, but I think I got kicked out. I don’t really know. Then, I tried a club, but they said I was too young! Can you believe that, Nam-Su?”
Nam-Gyu could, considering the stubborn baby fat on Thanos’s cheeks and the lack of facial hair.
“Yeah, that’s crazy, man.”
“I know! So then, this guy took me to Waffle House, and you know they got glory holes there?”
“Thanos, what the fuck. No, they do not.”
“Yes, they do, ‘cos…” He paused, “Holy shit, what did I fuck. Anyway! But then you, my knight in shining armor, picked me up before I had to eat their fucked up pancak-waffles.”
Nam-Gyu steadied his throat. “Who took you to Waffle House?”
“Bro, why you so nosy, for real?”
“Thanos.”
He made a non-committal sound.
The two made it to Nam-Gyu’s place, and Thanos flopped onto the dusty couch like second nature.
“What’s with all the books?”
“I had a test tomorrow.”
Thanos flipped through his study guide like it was a catalogue. “Wow, smart guy. Is this the one that you need, like… a 90 or something to pass the class?”
“Yeah.” “What period do you have it tomorrow?”
“None, I’m not going.” Thanos jerked. “What? Why?” He slumped back into the couch.
“I’ll skip with you.” Nam-Gyu sat next to the boy who was curled at the edge, stomach against the pillow. “Make sure you’re not dead from hangover. What did you take anyway?”
“I dunno. The guy gave me a tri-colored pill, so something like that. And a few lines. Also, some shots…and a joint or…more. Something like that.”His eyes slipped shut. Nam-Gyu’s hand hovered above his matted hair, fingers inching towards it.
“Thanos.”
“Mmh?”
He didn’t have anything to ask; he just needed to hear the boy with a fatigue-infested tone. “It’s okay.” Cautiously, he lay beside the boy, arms glued to his side but eyes boring into the purple hair.
~
“Thanos?” The voice was shaky with caution. The thin door between them seemed like cell bars now, only echoes of the running sink peaking out. “What?” He gruffed.
“Can I…come in?” “God, you’re so clingy, Nam-Su, just go fuck off. There’s pills on the counter, you junk-fest.” Nam-Gyu didn’t have time to coil back at the words, speaking softer now, “That’s not what I want. Could you open the door, please?”
“Fuck off.” Nam-Gyu slid against the door, mirroring Thanos, who was behind it, knees curled to his chest. He could feel the heat from Thanos’s back through the white door, he swears.
Gasps and sniffles slid through the door cracks, but words fumbled down Nam-Gyu’s throat. Nam-gyu holding the other as he slept felt like a distant reality now, hours ago, feeling non-existent. Rattles shook the door, the sound of cabinets swinging open and shuffling made Nam-Gyu perk up. “Th-Thanos?!” Panic infected his words. “What are you doing?” The door swung open, making him stumble at the lack of support.
“Nothing! See?” There Thanos was, obnoxious smile and his hands on his hips. His eyes shone sickly and wet. His sleeves were stained an ugly color; his nails were the culprit of his rouge wrists. Nam-Gyu leaned in to Thanos, but the boy only shoved past. “Ew, fag alert,” He sang and spread onto the couch. Watching Thanos collapse into himself, Nam-Gyu followed inches behind, hugging the skinny arm beside him. “Ya gonna start sucking my dick too?”
Nam-Gyu mumbled, “You don’t always have to hide.”
Thanos looked at him, weighing his thoughts. He could burst into tears and muffle in Nam-Gyu’s collarbone, or he could kick the coffee table over and hurl slurs at the man.
He didn’t like thinking of the coulds. To imagine which path would drastically alter everything, one word at a time, feels like holding a mosquito nest as a basketball. He jerks Nam-Gyu off his arm. “Whatever, man. I’ll come back later.”
“Wait-”
The door shook shut.
Nam-Gyu knew Thanos would only come back when he had the energy to deflect. Still, he pressed his ear to the front door of his apartment, hopefully.
~
“Fuck you! Fuck you, gap-toothed, titty-sucking, pumpkin spice ass-fucking whore!” A loud grunt acted as ending punctuation for the insult. Fists flew through the air as the crowd circling the two boys exulted. The night sky failed to cover the violent scene playing out in the backyard of someone’s party, jeers and flashing cameras attracting more people second by second.
The poor fuck, Myung-Gi, was rolling against the grass like an upside-down bug while Thanos held him down and pounded his face relentlessly. Hearing the crack of bone didn’t stop him. Watching the other boy’s eyes roll back didn’t stop him. Nothing could at this point. Thanos, somehow, was flipped over as Myung-Gi compressed his face into the dirt and knuckled the back of his head. “You fucking dick!”
“Yeah?! Where’s all that tough guy shit now?” Thanos swung his legs back, meeting the vulnerable skin of Myung-Gi’s stomach. He doubled over, providing enough time for Thanos to jump to his feet and ram his shoe onto the boy’s chest. In response to Myung-Gi’s gasps and clawing, Thanos sneered, “You know what I’m gonna do?” He dropped to straddle the boy now, palms meeting the throat beneath him like waves to a rock. “I’ll cut off one of your sticky little fingers, find that girl of yours, and fuck her with it. Make her scream for me on your dead body.”
Myung-Gi howled, face red and puffed with anger and suffocation. He lunged at Thanos, effectively pinning him to the ground and snatching a rock from between the grass blades. “Arrogant piece of shit. How many pills you have to take to be that delusional?”
The stone met Thanos’s forehead, an ugly mix of sharp and blunt pain diving through him. Then again, force now coiling in his skull. He yelled out and swung his hands uselessly. “What the fuck!?” Pressure simmered under his forehead, tiny needles surrounding his head and going deeper into his skin with every still moment. He cried out, squeezing his eyes shut willfully as the hurls continued. ‘Stop,’ He tried to say, but couldn’t as the pain dripped to his mouth and made him dig his teeth into his lip. Momentary relief soothed his head as warm liquid pooled around the area and down his cheekbone, but now with an opening in the skin, the continuous beating with the rock could hit deeper.
He choked out a cry (Though his eyes still stubbornly dry). It felt wrong. Nothing was supposed to feel like this.
“Yo, what the fuck!?” Thanos vaguely registered the weight on top of him disappearing and grunts echoing around him. He knew that growl-like voice. Aw, Nam-Gyu came. Blood dripped through the corners of his smile. The sounds of yells and rustling were relaxing to drift asleep to.
White. All Thanos could see and feel was white and bland when he woke up. The room, he eventually understands he’s in, wasn’t empty–two police officers and Nam-Gyu forming a semi-circle around the heart monitor. At Thanos’s audible awakening, the cops shift towards him while Nam-Gyu (not so subtly) runs to the side of his bed. The boy almost winced at how domestic the sight was: Nam-Gyu feeling his forehead with the back of his hand while tutting. With how he was curled over the hospital bed, Thanos almost forgot the cops were there. Well, until they fucking spoke.
“Listen, son-”
“I’m not your son.” He grunted.
The older cop crossed his arms, eyebrows furrowing so far down his eyelids disappeared, and Nam-Gyu hustled to his defense. “He’s moody from the pain. Please forgive him.”
Thanos tilted his head to Nam-Gyu like a bird witnessing a steady oak tree being cut down. Nam-Gyu and sorry didn’t belong together. Nam-Gyu had Thanos’s back violently, jumping in fights, threatening others for him, and giving him ideas for threats. If a cop was being a bitch, Nam-Gyu would steal his gun and shoot him. That would have been less head-turning than a sorry. Thanos swallowed the bitter jealousy at the tan man being polite to someone other than him.
The younger cop put on their best savior complex smile and nodded. “Of course.” “As I was saying,” Interrupted the old cop, “We’ve gotten complaints and reports from you multiple times. You’ve been in holding before, so you know the drill. This time, we’re not gonna take you in–only because the doctors worry your head injury would worsen.” The man picked his tough, compassionate expression back up. “But if you get in any more trouble, any! We’ll be forced to arrest you. This is your last warning. No more excuses from here, so stop this nonsense. Keep living your life like this, and you’ll end up behind bars. I don’t want to see you in trouble for fighting again.”
Thanos gruffed a mild agreement, ringing in his ears, preventing him from hearing the police debrief to Nam-Gyu and leave. Nam-Gyu remained huddled over Thanos. “Dude, the head bandage looks so badass.” “Holy shit, really?” “Yeah, man, you look like a WWE wrestler.”
…
“Why am I restrained?” Thanos asked, almost too calmly. Nam-Gyu shifted, crossing his arms limply. “Um…well, you woke up on the way here and started fighting in the ambulance. They-I had to hold you done, but you couldn’t calm down so they-” His voice cracked. Thanos’s face steadied. “They tied you down…and,” While Nam-Gyu’s shaking made his voice incomprehensible. Thanos interjected, pounding at the restraints as he jerked in excitement. “Yo, dude! You think I could score pain meds from this!?”
Nam-Gyu stared then smiled, the corners of his lips too flimsy. “Shit, dude you’re right! Quick, quick, act all in agony; I’ll call a nurse.” Easy enough. His head has been killing him since his slip into consciousness, panging and beating for attention. He started with a submerged groan. Unconsciously, his sounds developed to deep bellows as he tossed around in restraints. Fuck, was he acting. Was the pain this bad?
Was he scoring pain meds or just fucking asking? He pressed his forehead into the pillow, red peaking through and infecting its previous pristine state. This is real. This pain, as deep as it flowed, emptied his stomach and lungs with incessant thrusts to his head. Light curved through his skull and spilled through his eyes, wetness staining his cheeks.
“Nam-Su, turn off the fucking lights!” His voice broke with frustration.
Some bitch in a white coat scurried beside him, clipboard to her chest. “Hi, I’m Dr. Palms. What seems to be the issue?” Urgency leaked into her voice. “Where’s-fuck-where’s Nam-Su?”
“Right here, man.” He turned to the doctor. “He’s in a lot of pain. Headaches, sensitivity to light, dizziness, everything. He has a concussion and a broken hand, lady, that’s a lot of fucking pain.” “Yeah, okay, we can give him some Tylenol and Melatonin.” The two boys jolted, Thanos reaching his fingers to pry the skin off the lady, and Nam-Gyu bumping her harshly.
“Tylenol? Are you fucking kidding? He has broken bones, fucking head trauma, and you’re giving him some weak ass shit. What, are you guys cheaping out or something? Give him something that’ll actually help!” The woman hugged her clipboard to her chest. “I…We can’t give him anything too strong. It could put him at risk of blood thinning or prolong the-the recovery time.”
Nam-Gyu froze, looking at Thanos thoughtfully. Thanos’s glare didn’t scare him, but the thought of Thanos not being able to glare at him did. Sure, he’s missing out on a great free high, but they can just get one when he’s out. Nam-Gyu’s treat. “O-oh. I see.” “NO!” Thanos yelled like an alarm clock breaking a dream. “WHAT THE FUCK?! NO! Do you fucking understand anything?! I can’t breathe, I can’t sleep, I need something, and you’re just brushing me off! And you Nam-Su, you fucking traitor-the fuck are you-”
“I’m sorry, Sir, we’re gonna need you to calm down.”
“THEN GET ME SOME FUCKING MEDICINE!” He howled.
The doctor shivered, nails buried in the wooden clipboard. “Let…let me consult with my colleague.” She scuttled out before further protests. Thanos’s wrists lurged against the belts binding his hands to the bed. “Jesus, man. Didn’t you hear what she said? It could hurt you.” “My head hurts.” He had spoken so softly that Nam-Gyu wondered if he imagined it.
“What was that?”
“It…it’s fine.”
“It hurts?” Nam-Gyu slid onto the stool beside Thanos. “It actually hurts. How bad? Are you okay? Can you think alright? Should I really talk to a nurse now? Do you want me to fetch you some water? Or maybe a hot pack? I turned off the lights; should I close the curtains too? Or can I-”
“Stop,” The boy shook, “Ple-You’re,” He trailed off. Nam-Gyu slouched, dejected and overcome with thoughts of Thanos in pain. He stared at the boy, eyes trailing down his face. It was more red and purple than skin-tone colored. Wrists strained brittlely against the restraints, and his eyelids were swollen and squeezed shut. He was shaking, chest fluttering, and ribs decompressing. Nam-Gyu’s chest ached watching him struggle. “Thanos…”
“Stop…’s too much.” The emotion, Nam-Gyu’s eyes on his weaknesses, the god-fucking pain, and fucking everything. The cops, the law, the lack of freedom. Myung-Gi’s bitch mouth. The stupid, whore body he was born in. It’s too much. He wishes he hadn’t opened his eyes again from the loss of consciousness from MG Coin’s party or at birth. His anger, his sins (Though, he’s not really religious. More so, being this ashamed of himself, it’s impossible not to have a spiritual aspect of self-hatred). Vaguely, he registers the curtains being shut, and a small weight is lifted from his head. The stool beside rattles.
He wants to go home, but first he’d have to find one. It’s all too much. He opens his eyes. “It’s okay.” Nam-Gyu hunched over the bed, cutting apart the black restriants with his pocket knife. Nam-Gyu pouted at him with those sad, overthinking eyes, so before he could suggest healing suggestion after healing suggestion or cheap one-liners that make Thanos’s throat coil, he grabbed the other boy by his shoulders, yanking him to the bed and drowning him by entangling their limbs.
Neither had time for flushed cheeks or crude jokes as Thanos nudged his head into Nam-gyu’s chest and laced his fingers around Nam-gyu’s back.
Nam-Gyu stared at the fluffy-haired boy, feeling him huff warmly and wince into his chest. His arms curled around Thanos’s neck, fingers sliding into the base of his hair. He sighed softly and forced his neck upward despite the discomfort to see Thanos. Tear-stained, flushed, and leaking blood. Static-filled doe-eyes met Nam-Gyu’s for a moment before slipping back shut. Fuck. He really hopes Thanos can’t hear his heart pounding against his chest. Even in obvious pain and a complete lack of physical care, something about Thanos’s raw emotions has Nam-Gyu in a headlock he chose to put himself in. He’s so beautiful, sweet-looking, buried in Nam-Gyu’s chest.
Nam-Gyu dragged his nails in Thanos’s scalp, whispering in it, “You’re doing so good. You’re perfect. I’m so proud of you. So strong, so handsome, you’re everything…you’re my ever…best friend.” They both winced, Thanos from pain and Nam-Gyu from embarrassment. “It’s okay, hyeong, you’re doing so good. I couldn’t be prouder. So strong ‘n cool, hm?” Sneakily, his lips met the tip of Thanos’s scalp, feeling the boy’s tension melt at the contact of Nam-Gyu’s warmth. “...I’m so scared.” The boy’s tremors battered against Nam-Gyu’s chest, so he clutched Thanos tighter, breathing praise into his scalp and nuzzling into his cheek. “Scared? That’s okay. Everything must seem so scary right now, huh? What’s scaring you?”
“I-I don’t know,” His voice creaked. Nam-Gyu was touching him. Nam-Gyu was praising him and holding him, looking at him like sprinkles look at ice cream. Nam-Gyu was here, quietly and understanding.
And Thanos? Was fucking terrified. He would have been more relaxed if Nam-Gyu had shoved him away, spat at him, and left, but here he was, stroking Thanos like he was dematting a tangle. Stuttering gasps pried through Thanos’s mouth. “Wha…what are you doing? I don’t understand it. I’m scared-you’re being weird-sto-ah.” Gasps of pain and panic infiltrated his words as he greedily grasped Nam-Gyu tightly. “Don’t leave, please.”
Nam-Gyu’s body broke into Thanos, his gut curling at Thanos’s revelation. As fucked up as it sounds, this is what he’s been waiting for: for Thanos to acknowledge Nam-Gyu’s affection and accept it. ‘Don’t leave,’ Repeated in his head, perking a smile onto his lips. Thanos, depending on him, feels like what he was born for as he drinks up the scene like plants after a drought. Being the medicine to Thanos’s pain almost made him forget that Thanos was in pain in the first place. He could say so much, everything in his mind racing with thoughts of Thanos.
“I would never. No matter what,” He said solemnly.
Nam-Gyu’s forehead bumped Thanos’s scalp. “You’re okay. You’re perfect. So smart, so strong, so cool, handsome, beautiful,” Nam-Gyu’s voice creaked with honesty. Thanos shuffled closer, melting into the other.
“Nam-Su?” Thanos whispered after a while.
“Mhm? What is it, Hyeong?”
“Tell me your dreams for the future.”
Nam-Gyu paused, fingers unmoving in Thanos’s hair. “Wh-” He breathed shakily. “What are yours?”
Thanos spoke through Nam-Gyu’s collarbone, “I wanna be a rapper.” “You’ve always said you wanna be famous. Why?” When Nam-gyu asked this question in the past. Thanos had always answered, “I’m meant for bigger things,” but he knew that wasn’t the full answer. Now, with Thanos so docile and trusting, he could see him for what you really was and begin to know Thanos better than he knew himself.
“When I’m big enough, it’ll all be worth it. People’ll see me, all of me, and love me. They’ll connect with my songs. People see rappers, man. The fans know the artists are arrogant, manipulative junkies who’d run over them for gold-planted grills, but they still can’t get enough of them. When that’s me, on stage and on screens, I’ll know all this staying true to myself bullshit was actually worth it. All that stubborn, unbending personality was actually useful and not unbacked arrogance. I’ll fucking be something, man.”
Nam-Gyu stared, memorized like a toddler watching food being cooked. “You want to be seen?”
“Nah, man. I-ow-ow-ow-ow fuck-I want people to fucking know me and still bump my music. Know I’m snorting shit after concerts but still show up for me. That’s fucking crazy, unbelievable. I wanna understand why they would do that.”
Nam-Gyu breathed into the boy’s scalp thoughtfully, a repeating image plaguing his mind. Thanos was so beautiful, physically, yeah, but emotionally? When he was being open with Nam-Gyu, honest, and asking for help. Telling him not to leave. He sighed shakily, excitement slipping out of his lungs. He smiled quietly, lips steady for once.
“I could show you?” “You’re gonna start cheering?” Thanos said sardonically.
“No,” His finger curled around Thanos’s chin, lifting him from his collarbone to level with Nam-Gyu’s face. His tearstains shone on his bruised-fruit face, and Nam-Gyu’s lip shook, not from holding back his words but finally spilling them for once. “You’re so handsome.” His voice cracked.
Thanos hummed unsurely.
Nam-Gyu shifted closer while Thanos shook like a crackling fire. He leaned further, but Thanos stayed in place. “Is…this fine?”
“I…don’t-” Nam-Gyu’s thumb brushed his cheek, delicate and light against the bruises. Nam-Gyu’s lips parted before- The door snapped open, the sound of latex gloves and clipboards snapping, cutting the intimate air with clinical coldness. Thanos jumped away like Nam-Gyu was mold.
“My colleague here told me you were in a lot of pain. We’ll need to ask you some questions first; is that alright?” Nam-Gyu watched Thanos’s expression shift, arrogance spreading through his face and eyes dulling in stoicism. “Shoot.”
“Do you have any history of mental illness?” Nam-Gyu’s eyes darted to Thanos. “Ew, no.” Disgust filled his face. “Oh.” Confusion overtook the doctor’s face as they flipped through his papers. “You’re Choi Su-Bong, correct?” Nam-gyu agreed before Thanos could confuse the man further with his “rapper name.”
“It says on your records you were admitted to a psychiatric ward months ago.” He flipped the page, “Oh, multiple times actually.”
The room weighed heavily. Nam-Gyu stared at Thanos, eyebrows arched and mouth open while Thanos’s nostrils flared and gaze between the bitch fucking doctor and the floor. “Listen bitch, you think that ‘cos you fucked yourself in the ass with a stethoscope you know more shit than me.” Thanos stumbled to his feet, arms extended to the doctor in rapid, unsteady movements. “But that shit is not true. Say that shit again and your-dumb-bitch-married-to-a-fairy collegue gonna be stitching you the fuck up.”
“Sir, please calm down. I’m just trying to make sure you’d react well to our treatment.” The doctor didn’t shy away, stepping closer to Thanos’s erratic movements.
As insults filled the room, Nam-Gyu felt as if he was being sucked in like a whirlpool. He wanted to hold him. He wanted Thanos to yell, cry, want Nam-Gyu too, anything. His presence, as uncomfortable and gnarly as it may seem to others, is more than that to Nam-Gyu.
He can really see Thanos for who he is–irrevocably human. He watched Thanos’s storm, gratitude and awe rushing through him. He could witness a tsunami without living by an ocean. He could watch a sunrise without waking up early, something no one else would be willing to do except Nam-Gyu. And that was part of the appeal. Being Thanos’s first unconditional fan.
He pounced up, holding the boy by the shoulders, massaging them. “Hey-hey, it’s okay. Guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“I wasn’t in the psych ward,” He growled, eyes shifting to Nam-Gyu.
Nam-Gy felt dunked in cold water. Psychiatric Ward. Without him. Without telling him. Previously feeling “in the in” with Thanos, now he feels booted and back to the curb on Thanos’s psyche.
Weeks of radio silence, and Nam-Gyu couldn’t put two ‘n two together. Fuck that. Thanos is such a fucking asshole, always keeping shit to himself.
Did Thanos open up to someone else in the ward? Was he held and comforted by someone better than Nam-Gyu? Is he secondary to someone else’s comfort?
“Yeah, of course, man,” He said, insecurity peaking through his words.
“What!?” Thanos pried away. “You don’t fucking believe me?! You think I’m a fucking schizo-” Rapid huffs soured his words as he stumbled to the edge of the bed.
“Nobody is saying that, Sir,” The doctor said softly, fingers twitching towards the Call Button. He scanned Thanos, whose hands were clenching the bedsheets like a lifeline and swaying unsteadily, then the Call Button once more. Concluding that Thanos was too weak to pose a threat, he spoke with practiced confidence. “Are you comfortable continuing the questioning?”
Nam-Gyu gazed at Thanos, who was hunched over and glaring through his brows. “Yeah, whatever.” “Do you have any history of drug misuse?” “No.” “Okay, have you taken anything that altered your cognitive processes within the last 72 hours?” “No.” “Alright, and is there a parent or guardian we can call here?”
Thanos’s brutish expression melted, a childish and lost one taking its place. He stared at the doctor foreignly as if he had said he was a time traveller.
“...No,” He said with a different tone now, more disconnected than his last definitive responses. The doctor’s expression softened, and he took a step closer. “Are you sure? You’re in a very vulnerable state right now; it would be in your best interest to call them.” Thanos’s lips twitched as he subtly leaned towards the doctor. “I said no,” He said, desperately falling back into his persona, “Nam-Su’s here, so I’m good.”
A familiar smile twitched at Nam-Gyu’s lips, and he shifted closer to Thanos. The doctor’s gaze flickered between the two, contemplating his next words carefully. “That may be the case, but without parental consent, we can’t give you any medication for the pain. Are you sure there’s no one you can call?”
Thanos jolted, nails burying into palms. “I’m fucking dying over here and you can’t do shit!? What the fuck are you useful for then?” Nam-Gyu buried his fingers in Thanos’s shoulders, mumbling soft comfort under his breath.
“I’m sorry. Without consent from your guardians, at most, we can give you some Advil and a hot pack. Is there any family member you could get here? Doesn’t have to be your parents, just a family member over 18?”
Thanos made a mental checklist: No siblings, doesn’t want to call his parents, and his other relatives have long since thrown him away for association with his parents. They wouldn’t be wrong to do that; Asshole parents equal asshole kids. Though he doesn’t blame his psycho dad and boring mom. Beyond biology and how he grew up, he’s like this naturally, no intervention needed.
“I said no.” The doctor raised his hands peacefully, looking back at the nurse’s station. “I see. I’ll call a nurse, then, to see where we can go from here.” He quickly shuffled out of the room, arms hugged to his chest.
At this point, Thanos didn’t even want the free high. He just wanted to leave. All this poking and proding was making him sick. “There’s a meds closet by the bathrooms. I saw it while I was getting a nurse. We could get something from there.”
Thanos stared blankly ahead while Nam-Gyu’s nails ran through his scalp. He ticked, flicking his head away from the hands. “Let’s just go.” “What?”
“C’mon, Nam-Su, we’re leaving.” Pushing himself off the bed, he marched to the door and slithered out while Nam-Gyu quickly followed. “Are we going to the med closet?”
“Fuck the med closet, I’m getting out of here.”
~
Thanos lay parallel to Nam-Gyu, eyes shut and arms tossed around his face. He swiggled around the bed loudly. “What was the psych ward like?” Nam-Gyu blurted.
“I told you already,” He grunted, “That doctor didn’t know what he was talking about.”
The walls seemed to creep closer after that comment as Thanos groaned once more, smacking the bandage on his head frustratedly. “My fucking hand itches.”
The cast acted as the world’s cruelest cocoon, scratching Thanos by the minute. He can’t flip people off, he can’t eat properly, and he can barely shower. After they had bolted from the hospital, the concept properly caring for his injuries flew out the window, mixing Percs with Nam-Gyu’s shitty home remedies. He swears to fucking God if Nam-Gyu takes out one more spoon of turmeric, he’ll break his other hand from punching him.
“I think you’re supposed to take it off when you sleep.” “How do I do that?”
“...Yeah, I don’t really know either.”
“It’s cold.”
Thanos yawned.
“Thanos?”
“Ohmygod, what, fag-fest? I’m trying to sleep.”
Nam-Gyu scooted closer with a childish glint in his eyes. “Are you cold?” “Not really.” “Oh…”
Thanos turned over to Nam-Gyu. “In the hospital, you didn’t hide from me.”
He sighed, surrendering. “It fucking sucked.”
“The psych ward?” “No, this conversation.” He flopped away.
“Why’d you go?” Thanos nudged closer. “I got caught at the Han Bridge. Second time, I got sent there for spraying ‘Kid Fucker’ on my mom’s boyfriend’s car. Third time, my mom caught me snorting some shit off my textbook. I think, at some point, they just wanted a break from me.” Nam-Gyu couldn’t let Thanos turn away again, so he grabbed the back of the boy’s neck and pulled them together, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip.“W…what are you doing?”
“I’m sorry.” “Eugh, for what?” “Not seeing you. Not being there. I’m so fucking sorry, Thanos,” He cracked, burying his face in Thanos shoulder while waving his knuckles through the purple locks.
Thanos lay still, lost and out of his depth like a bomb to a peace treaty. “Guess…I’m sorry, too, or whatever.” “You don’t have to be sorry. I see you now.” Silence overtook them once more, comforting and vast.
“You never told me your plans for the future.” “You wanna be a rapper, right?” Thanos nodded. “I’ll work at a club, then. You can stop by when you’re done with your concerts.”
The two smiled, closing into each other. “Of course,” Thanos said in his signature English. Those shitty psychology articles lied: his chest didn’t feel lighter from spilling his secret. It was pounding and squeezing harder than ever before.
~
Another dish shattered against Nam-Gyu’s floor, joining the many remains of their fellow brothers. Nam-Gyu didn’t flinch as he hadn’t when Thanos started this spree. He remained glued inches away from the boy. He opened his mouth but was muted by a cup shattering. “You fucking cunt! Open-mouth, open forehead–fuck you!” He shoved one of Nam-Gyu’s blunts down the drain.
“Please! I didn’t mean to!”
A mean finger shoved into Nam-Gyu’s face. “You knew what you were fucking doing, huh? Trying to act all sweet and spilling everything the second you got the chance. You planned this from the start, dick-taking whore!” Thanos’s voice snapped with betrayal.
One of Nam-Gyu’s notebooks flew across the room while Thanos’s nails bled from the strain of destruction. The long-haired boy scrambled beside Thanos, pleading. “I swear, Hyeong, I didn’t mean to. It was a total accident, I promise.”
“What, you just casually mention I was in the psych ward during conversation?! You were waiting to bring that shit up, always wanting to prove you’re better than me!” Nam-Gyu pressed his palms to Thanos’s wrist to restrain or hold him (who knows). “I didn’t want to say it! You know I care about you, please, I swear I tried to fix it. I-I’ll fix it! I’ll tell everyone I was lying; I’ll do anything, please don’t be angry.”
Thanos’s bleeding hands met Nam-Gyu’s chest and shoved him into the counter. He dragged the desperate boy up by the collar and continued to shout.
“Fuck you! Fuck you, asshole! Spewing all that bullshit just to turn around and spew more–you’re fucking dead, man-”
“-No-”
“Dead! Dead to me, dead later-”
Nam-Gyu shook his head with his eyes downcast.
“All that shit we had: sharing my stash, hanging out, talking shit, having your back, that’s fucking gone. You’re nobody to me. I’m gonna fucking kill you!”
“Stop! Just let me talk, man!”
“Fuck off, cunt!”
Nam-Gyu’s voice dropped an octave from pleading to demanding. “You know MG Coin’s friend? The dealer? I was tryin’ get some Amineptine for you. Thought it’d make you happy. The guy was making small talk while getting it and asked if it was for me; I told him no, and he guessed it was for you. He said you were batshit and belonged in an institute. I looked away and didn’t say anything–Thanos, I’m so sorry–he put two and two together from there.”
A conflicted expression painted its way onto Thanos’s face. It was too complex-looking for someone so simplistic as Thanos, so Nam-Gyu watched it gradually fade. “Fuck you,” Thanos whispered, grabbing his hoodie from the counter and slamming the door shut.
~
The purple-haired boy leaned on the bathroom counter, the curve of his back adjusting to the mess of objects pushing against him. One arm held his full weight against the counter while the other hung lazily in its cast. The lighting in here was shit, buzzing, flickering lightbulbs matching the even shittier music in the other room.
This was the life. Thanos’s big, emerging rapper life. The rush and flood of celebrity magazines. It’s been months since his first time in the hospital (And since his last conversation with Nam-Gyu), and nowhere near his last. His left arm was practically goo now, snapping over and over again from his recklessness. He hasn’t seen a patch of his skin without stains of purple or black since those months either.
His fingers were either stained with red from blood or purple with hair dye, for even in this downward spiral, Thanos couldn’t stand to be regular. Not in his nails, his hair, his clothes, his voice, nothing. He was always a boy, chasing the extraordinary, and falling amongst all the others, being consumed by it before ever reaching it. He’s a part of the pathetic pile.
He’s not one of those cool artists whose fame finally got to them, or a celebrity pushed too far in the need to make each art piece better than the last. Thanos is simply another daydreamer who couldn’t take what they dish out, whose big mouth didn’t match their small bank account. He’s failed before he could start, running on pure delusion and reeking of desperation. To be seen, not known. To be recognized, not found. That’s fame. Not this clawing for views and assaulting for a reputation.
The boy, a thumb’s twitch away from eighteen, had released his first full album. His months of filled notebooks, shakily filmed music videos, and waltzing around copyright had gotten him:
@FowlerK: AND THE CROWD WENT HOME🔥🔥
@Holdentwopiece: Maybe try, try, try, again isn’t for everybody😊
And a used condom thrown at him at school.
9 songs, 9 music videos, 5 views.
He laughed, swelling with bitterness and disbelief. He was so close. This is how it all starts: flop, flop, then to the top.
He wasn’t hopeful, but running on full security in himself. He was going to be famous. Either he was going to be a rapper or fucking dead.
The door squeaked open, and another boy with a tucked bob crept inside. Thanos’s overgrown hair concealed his vision, but he didn’t need it to feel the arrogant, slightly meek, cunning presence of the person in the bathroom now.
Nam-Gyu.
He heard his boots rub against the tiles as he stilled. Thanos’s fingers slipped a joint from his pocket.
“Hey.” His voice sounded like alcohol during Prohibition.
Thanos shrugged. “You look,” Nam-Gyu turned on the sink, “...good.” Thanos remained wordless, swallowing the ache in his throat with smoke. “I heard your album. It was great, man, fucking artistic. Seriously.”
The taller boy inhaled sharply as smoke broke through his lips hastily. “Of-of course it was.” The air lightened with Nam-Gyu’s smile. “Yeah, of course, you’re seriously about to blow up, man.”
“Of course,” Thanos spoke in barely English as he now sat on the counter, his thighs grazing the black-haired boy’s hands under the tap.
“I’ve missed you, Hyeong.” “Yeah, well, rapping’s been keeping me busy, you understand. Someone as big as me doesn’t always have time, Nam-Su.”
“Of course, Hyeong, I’d expect so.”
Thanos couldn’t pinpoint why his lips stung, so he assumed he needed another hit and inhaled more smoke.
~
“Nam-Su, this isn’t right. We’re both guys.”
“It’s okay, Hyeong, I’ll take care.”
“No, dude, seriously, two men shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Please,” Nam-Gyu sassed, “You’re barely a man.”
“Says the one who suggested it!”
The two sat on the floor, crisscrossed at the coffee table, while Nam-Gyu tossed the first stone.
“Seriously? What kind of man plays Gonggi?” “Mm, that guy with the botched tattoo likes it.”
“Wow. Great. We’re in the same category of fucking Day-Whore.” The smell of weed flew through the open windows, replaced with blinding sunlight.
“Shh, it’s kinda fun.” “You keep dropping it!’ Thanos shook his shoulders, too invested and hyped for someone against playing a woman’s game.
The potency of substances they’d been taking had decreased while Thanos’s time at Nam-Gyu’s place increased.
Nam-Gyu smiled, feigning the clash of their shoulders as trying to catch the stones.
~
Nam-Gyu sat Thanos on the toilet seat. “Do you just want the roots or full hair?” He scratched the plastic lid off the hair dye bottle. “Full, duh, I want my hair to be darker purple now. None of this gay pastel shit.”
“Aw, don’t like looking like a TikTok E-Girl?”
“Don’t get punched, Nam-Su.”
“Nam-Gyu.”
“That’s what I said, right, Nam-Gyu.”
The standing boy’s fingertips threaded through Thanos’s hair. The roots acted as a black hole to the vibrancy of the rest of his hair.
He combed the purple sludge through Thanos’s fried waves bare-handed. He didn’t have a bowl: simply working the dye onto his palms and on Thanos’s hair.
He said his mom would kill him if he stained any of the bowls (She’s drunkenly careless), and Thanos called him a mama’s boy.
He said he doesn’t own any brushes, and that he left his toothbrush in the car (“You gotta work on your hygiene if you’re gonna be seen with the legend Thanos.”)
“What am I, a doctor? No, I don’t have rubber gloves,” He said. (They’re in the mirror cabinet inside the first aid kit.)
His hands smelled like Thanos and hair dye, most importantly Thanos.
His fingers moved like swimming octopi through the other boy’s hair; the way Thanos paused his rant and stilled each time Nam-Gyu met his roots weighed heavily on his heart.
God, it was fucking adorable.
Over fifteen minutes, Thanos’s head deteriorated from a 90-degree angle to 120 degrees against Nam-Gyu’s chest.
He didn’t mention how he couldn’t reach the tips from this position, pushing the boy further into him to run through his inner roots instead. Nam-Gyu’s gaze met Thanos’s eyelids, looking through him appreciatively. He was honestly doing more harm than good: the dye was set in each section of Thanos’s locks, yet he kept massaging his scalp, smearing the dye further across his hands than in Thanos’s hair.
The taller boy hummed softly. “Someone’s enjoying this,” Nam-Gyu teased. “Fuck off, just keep going.” His smile grew, almost domestically, as he fluffed Thanos’s hair with his hands, scratching the sensitive skin hiding under the now purple roots.
A yawn cut through the silent air, one so large it seemed to rearrange Thanos’s face. “Here, put your head under the sink.” A dramatic groan followed, acting as if Nam-Gyu was waterboarding him and not gently running the warm water between strands of hair.
Purple, chunky water trickled from his neck and into the faucet. Thanos stared at the whirlpool of dye and strands of his hair in the sink, determined to look anywhere but Nam-Gyu’s reflection in the mirror above.
Nam-Gyu, who held an expression like a child watching brownies bake as he cradled Thanos’s head under the sink.
“Eugh.” “Hm?” “You smell.”
Nam-Gyu’s palms pressed into Thanos’s scalp. “Says the one smothered in toxic dye.” “Says the one who’s sleeping on the floor tonight.”
Nam-Gyu shook his head amusedly as he turned off the water and reached for a towel. He whipped the towel around the purple head, basking in the grunts and shocked exclamations as he did so. He chuckled as Thanos smacked the towel from Nam-Gyu’s hands like it was a wasp in his hair. The purple-stained towel fell to the floor, and Thanos kicked it further childishly.
“Okay, drama queen,” Nam-Gyu said as he rinsed his hands. “You almost killed me.” “...From a towel?”
“I could’ve suffocated!” Thanos stood rapidly, yanking Nam-Gyu from the sink so his back met his chest. The two squirmed and scuttled around, swings of limbs and exchanges of exaggerated insults filling the room. Nam-Gyu, with no real intent to hurt Thanos, grabbed his waist for a few seconds too long before slamming him to the floor while the boy shrieked and kicked like an upside-down bug.
“See?! I’m the stronger one!”
“You’re the fucking cheater! You know I’m ticklish, dick-fucker!”
“Dick-fucker,” Nam-Gyu echoed mockingly, “Your insults are downgrading; that fucking sucked.” The black-haired boy pushed Thanos’s shoulders further into the tile; the other boy didn’t brush off how the tan fingers lingered and crawled across his collarbone: a movement too gentle for playfighting.
For the first time since last night, his blue eyes met the earthy ones above him. Nam-Gyu’s gaze was grounding, lifting Thanos away from the hands on him and sucking them in their depth. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the splash of light brown in Nam-Gyu’s irises, the premature creases tearing under his eyes, his lashes spreading like an eagle’s wings.
The feeling in Thanos’s throat was impossible to pinpoint. It wasn’t jealousy: he didn’t want Nam-Gyu’s copper skin or pursed lips, but longing stirred senselessly in his stomach, reminding him of his empty hands and lightly-weighing lips. He didn’t want to look like Nam-Gyu, admiring him in a way an owl admires the branch it perches upon.
Thanos could make more sense of AP Calculus than this harboring feeling.
Nam-Gyu’s hands grew useless, switching from their purpose of holding Thanos down by the shoulders to cupping his cheeks. His thumbs rested against Thanos’s nose, absent-mindedly appreciating its presence.
“You good?”
The boy beneath him didn’t respond. Nam-Gyu leaned in, but not for Thanos to hear him better.
“Thanos?” He whispered as if he were confirming his existence.
The skinnier boy didn’t move, face hardened and chest unmoving. They knew what was going to happen.
For such an act of love, they leaned in as if they were walking to their execution.
Nam-Gyu’s dry lips met Thanos’s busted ones, weighing atop them motionlessly. Minutes passed by during this moment–one of a still, distant meeting like they were statues made by an chaste sculptor. Thanos’s eyes were shut for survival; the fewer senses he experienced during this sin, the better. Nam-Gyu’s were wide open, inhaling each bit of Thanos’s wrecked, human face.
Purple skin. Bloodshot and yellowed eyes. Dark circles that blended with black eyes. His swollen jaw. Everything.
Their meeting of lips shifted into a kiss as Nam-Gyu began to consume Thanos’s bottom lip between his own. He peckered the corners and the middle of the boy’s lips with individual kisses, tossing his body against Thanos.
The tan hands dropped from his cheekbones to Thanos’s neck, stroking the Adam’s Apple. Thanos’s hands pressed against Nam-Gyu’s chest, not enough to push him away but just enough that he could say he was trying to later. His face was scrunched in disgust as his lips chased Nam-Gyu’s distancing ones. Huffs and wet sounds echoed across the room. The hands against Nam-Gyu’s chest began to hold him closer, subtly enough to still be able to plead as unwilling later.
The kiss was ugly, terribly so that if someone were to walk in, they’d mistake the two for rotting corpses sewn together. It looked ugly; it felt (morally) ugly–yet they continued as if they really were sewn together.
Nam-Gyu’s lips were warm.
Nam-Gyu’s tongue was soft.
Thanos couldn’t tear himself off.
Thanos’s sounds were soft.
Thanos’s grip was tight.
Nam-Gyu couldn’t let go.
The kiss shifted from a body on a body to interlocking and yanking each other closer. Thanos’s breathy groans and Nam-Gyu’s roaming hands deepened the kiss until-
Until a bang echoed throughout the bathroom. Like actually fucking echoed and rang against the walls.
“What the fuck?! No seriously-” Thanos stood up, doubling over like he had been punched. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” He screeched, fists meeting the first surface he could find as he continued to howl.
“Why the fuck would you-I’m not a fucking faggot! Do you know what this could do to me?! I don’t care what weird shit you do on your own time, but dragging me into it?! That’s fucking gross, disgusting! I swear to God, bitch, if you tell anyone about this like you told-”
He hit the cabinet again, the drawer vomiting its contents as he did: a pair of latex gloves, a hairbrush, a toothbrush, and a plastic bowl.
Thanos stared at them as if they were pointing and laughing.
“No,” He whispered as a lifeline.
Nam-Gyu groaned, slowly realizing Thanos had shoved him into the toilet while his ribs ached from it. He slouched up, watching Thanos shift from still staring to shuffling back like Nam-Gyu was rabid.
“-No-”
“Thanos-”
“-This has gone too far-”
“Just listen-”
“-It’s worse than I thought, fuck-”
He liked that Nam-Gyu lied to touch his hair. He liked how Nam-Gyu ran his fingers through it while they kissed.
“-No-”
His fingers grazed the doorknob while he remained facing Nam-Gyu like he’d pounce if he turned away.
“Thanos.”
His fingers lost their grip on the exit.
“Thanos.”
Nam-Gyu’s voice was final, cracked with emotion but authoritative. He couldn’t understand. Lost more than ever in an apartment he’s been to more than his own.
“Don’t run. Don’t run again.”
His fingers met the knob again.
“I’m not gay.”
“We don’t have to be. That’s a label people give,” Nam-Gyu stepped forward, “But they wouldn’t be able to, if they never knew.”
“Nam-”
He stepped closer, and without such close attention on the trembling boy, he wouldn’t have noticed his feet inching away from the door.
“It’s just you and me, Hyeong.”
“It’s wrong-”
“You’re different, aren’t you?” Nam-Gyu’s palm kissed Thanos’s cheek, stroking the stray hairs on his face and tucking them back. Others may have seen this as predatory if they didn’t see the pleading look pooling in the tan boy’s eyes.
“You’ve always been different–special. Other people say it’s wrong, Hyeong; Since when did you follow other people?” His voice was soft, words flowing like melted chocolate. Thanos exhaled unevenly, words hidden in his breath. “I’m scared.”
His touch on Thanos’s face became a hold, and Nam-Gyu tipped closer to him like he was falling. “I’m proud. I’m so proud of you, Hyeong, you’re so perfect.” Thanos didn’t lean away.
Thanos didn’t lean away. His shaking was incessant and terrible, but not enough to make him lean away. Thanos didn’t lean away.
He hunched over, not in insecurity, but for his lips to be more exposed to Nam-Gyu.
He whispered vague disagreement, so close to the other boy, he could almost taste it. Taste him. “It’ll be okay,” Nam-Gyu soothed, elongating his vowels like he was talking to a lost foreigner.
Thanos tried to plead insanity from here. From when he connected their lips together and opened his mouth to be swallowed by Nam-Gyu. The thick hands on his back aren’t what forced him to lean back: it was Nam-Gyu’s mouth on his neck.
His lips pecked the sensitive skin, leaving a trail of saliva and bite marks from his jaw to Thanos’s collarbone. Knees weak and giving out, Thanos gripped Nam-Gyu's hair and squeezed his eyes shut. “-Stop-”
“You don’t want me to,” Nam-Gyu mumbled against the pale skin, sucking another whine from Thanos. He tried to straighten his shoulders back into his tough persona, but Nam-Gyu pressed him onto the wall as they echoed each other’s names. Suddenly, a thunderous slap broke between them, Thanos panting as if he was the one who was struck. “No,” He vaguely muttered, “Too much, It’s too much, kill-my mom, no, I can’t, too much, bad image, invalid, my mom,” His voice cracked.
“Thanos-”
“NO! No-shut the fuck up, you fucking faggot! What do you want from me?!” He doubled over, squeezing his chest as he yelled. “I’m not fucking gay; I can’t be fucking gay! What the fuck are doing to me?! I like girls, fucker!”
Something strange happened from there, so strange it made Thanos want to pursue science to study it. Nam-Gyu, cheek red and lips swollen, bounced back, yelling like Thanos was a bear he was trying to scare away.
“You fucking asshole! Always treating me like I’m retarded, you think I don’t got my own shit too?! You think I want this!? You’re a piece of shit, Thanos, bottom of the god damn barrel, you fucking suck and then act you’re a fucking martyr for just standing next to me! You know how much I’ve sacrificed just for you to fucking glance past me?! Oh ‘cos I’m just ‘expandable Nam-su’ there to suck your fragile fucking ego-”
“Glance past you: you really are fucking retarded! You think I’d do any of this fucking shit for someone I didn’t like?! Fuck!” He yelled as if in physical pain, recoiling as far away from Nam-Gyu like he was a bug. A fast-moving, poisonous insect. One that Thanos doesn’t have the heart to kill but no means to let it live.
“Oh? What the fuck have you ever done for me?! Make me lug your sorry ass when you get beat?”
He didn’t mean to. He really didn’t mean to, but the words spilled out like oil, unable to be swallowed or buried in his fists. They were out. Known. Forever.
“How ‘bout let my mom’s boyfriend in the shower with me for pills.”
The two were stunned to silence, Nam-Gyu finally breaking it like a child jumping on a frozen lake. “What?” Thanos went all in. “Pills, it’s all about pills. I blew all my cash on some scam online a few months ago. Didn’t want your greedy ass to go to someone else.”
Before you build sentiments, Thanos wasn’t looking out for Nam-Gyu, worried he’d take something laced from someone else. No. He was pulling him by his addiction like a leash. Nam-Gyu likes pills. Thanos has pills. It’s as simple as that. Insurance that Nam-Gyu wouldn’t leave no matter what Thanos put him through.
Nam-Gyu repeated himself like a stuttering record. “Wait-” “Shut the fuck up.” “Thanos, wait-” “I said shut the fuck up, you piece of shit.”
The long-haired boy screamed. Not cursing, not begging, just screaming. “You are such a piece of shit! I hate you, I hate you! You always do this, spring some random shit on me and expect me not to care. Well, I do fucking care! Condemn me, Thanos, but I fucking care about you! I worry when you take six Advils every morning, I worry when I can’t even see your skin under those bruises, I worry when you walk! Everything you do warrants fear! You’re so fucked up, can’t you see that?”
Nam-Gyu didn’t let Thanos get a breath in, words softening as he gave up. “No pills, no affection, and you still could’ve led me like this. All the shit you’ve done to make me stay was useless. I would’ve stayed if you beat me out the door and fucked a bitch behind it.’
Silence. The only medicine the two didn’t have a tolerance for.
“No, you would've. Don’t act like a fucking victim, Nam-su-”
“NAM-GYU! NAM-GYU! NAM-GYU! NAM-GYU!”
“I DIDN’T SHOOT UP! You’re acting so fucking innocent-” Gargled English served as Thanos’s air, “I know what you did at Se-Mi’s party. I don’t shoot up, Nam-su, I never fucking did. And then, you fucking pranced along, got me fucking hooked, and for what?! For fucking what?! To hold me when I couldn’t refuse, you fucking fairy!?”
“You’re a god damn junkie, Thanos, get over yourself!” Nam-Gyu’s retort couldn’t hide the boiling shame popping through his veins and weakening his chest. This is the only point he couldn’t deflect, correct, or shove away. Because Thanos was absolutely correct. The 4th time they met, he pushed a drunk, barely-conscious boy to nod when he pressed a needle through his skin.
All to say his addiction wasn’t an addiction if he was doing it with someone else. All to hold someone and know you both feel the same synthetic, cold feeling. His knees ached with want to beg for forgiveness. He should. He never listens to shoulds.
“You are so full of shit.”
Nam-Gyu sneered like it was his last bullet. “And you are fucking insecure. Is somebody confused? Afraid your mommy is gonna kick you out when she finds out you like dick? You’re not a man, you’re a pussy who bit off more than he can chew, Su-Bong-”
Knuckles met his nose with a sickening crack. Su-Bong. A name more forbidden than the devil’s. “Who the fuck is Su-Bong?” Thanos growled above him, leaving the bathroom like how the eye of a storm passes. Face buried in the tiled floor, Nam-Gyu couldn’t tell if the wails or his or Su-Bong’s.
9 times out of ten, it’s usually both.
~
A knock joined the list of noises in Thanos’s apartment like a head submerging in water. He opened the jagged door, listening past its creaks and scratches. There he was. Untouched and as he was on the bathroom floor. Unwiped blood surrounded his upper lip like a kiss mark.
Don’t play coy, you know who.
“I can’t be alone,” His eyes were on Thanos as if he’d remembered this moment forever. His eyes shone, with tears or love was impossible to tell. They were two rams whose horns were entangled. If separation occurred, their best feature would shatter. Without their horns, the two rams would still cling to each other because now they’re the only two rams in the pack without horns.
Thanos was wearing his shoes, standing at the doorway as if he was about to leave. He only went to two places: Nam-Gyu’s place or a party. There weren’t any parties tonight.
“Me too,” He cracked, side-stepping and letting Nam-Gyu in. Leaving their shoes at the door, the two laid in Thanos’s bedroom like fitted puzzle pieces–Thanos on the left side, Nam-Gyu on the right. Their heads were tilted toward each other, drinking in the other’s appearance but not completely parallel in case someone walked in. They could be played off as sleeping friends. Close friends. Friends.
“Where’s your mom?”
“Out with her…boyfriend. Romantic anniversary at the motel by Walgreens.”
The two didn’t mention it, all statements in the bathroom now obsolete. Another Thanos and Nam-Gyu show-down, another succumbing to another.
“You’re right,” They both said. About everything.
Thanos leaned in. It was all hopeless now. With the way Nam-Gyu was looking at him, he was a moth to a forest fire, watching all he was sure of die and exploring the perpetrator because warmth is still warmth.
He doesn’t remember how it happens, so maybe he really could plead insane.
Nam-Gyu, above him, huffing into his neck like he was bleach.
Nam-Gyu, hands exploring his torso like he’d never seen skin before.
Nam-Gyu, wrapping the blanket around both of them as his lower half disappeared under it.
Humans want to feel good; it’s been in our nature since we came to be. We hunted when we could have picked grain. We explored when we could have been content in our home. We added to food when we could’ve eaten raw meat. We touch even when our fingers will be numb and scalded later.
Thanos cried out, tears pricking his eyes the way Nam-Gyu cradled him. He was good. He was good. He was good. According to Nam-Gyu’s whispers. Their chest met, deflated and bare. The two were slumped against each other as the black-haired boy’s fingers halted around Thanos’s member.
“I breathe you, Thanos. You’re my priority. Fuck school, fuck my family, fuck health, you’re my everything.”
It was a grotesque sight–one beaten, skinny boy and one with too many scars near his veins rubbing against each other. Like ugly dogs pretending the floor they’re rolling against is another being. God, they were so fucking ugly, past their medically abnormal appearances and in the cores. Thanos and Nam-Gyu. Nam-Gyu and Thanos. Cosmically unable to ever find someone else’s unconditional love. Sure, they could leave, neither being a hostage, but then what? Pick up knitting? Replace the addictive feeling of knuckles in the others locks with grandma yarn?
Hands held the protruding bones on Nam-Gyu’s back, mirroring the movement of Nam-Gyu’s hips back to him. Sensitive flesh met sensitive flesh, moans met moans, and tears met tears. “Nam-Nam-Su–please-please-fuck-I’m sorry-I’m so sorry, man-don’t lea-stop-fuck-please,” His eyes rolled back as Nam-Gyu’s fingers wrapped around his cock, moving up and down like Thanos was worth a damn. “I’m here, I’m here. You’re my good boy, remember? So sweet for me. You’re so good-”
Huffs and whimpers tumbled out the arrogant boy, gripping Nam-Gyu like he’d slipped away. His head hammered into Nam-Gyu’s collarbone, gripping his shoulders as his cries escalated to ecstasy. “Fuck-fuck! Nam-oh God-Please-!-Please-!-fuck,” He sobbed, shaking and curled into the tan boy who quickly followed in pleasure. He held Thanos’s head to his collar like he was shielding him as he finished, continuing the position after. Gasps and shudders felt warm against Nam-Gyu.
Dread filled Thanos like a clogged toilet. Nam-Gyu could come again at the memory.
“Thanos.” He spoke into the boy’s scalp, wrapping his arms around him and burying him further into his chest. Thanos lifted Nam-Gyu’s sweaty palm into his scalp expectantly as if they’d done this thousands of times before. Like they hadn’t broken every sacred taboo. Nam-Gyu’s fingers drew tiny circles in the purple scalp beneath him.
“Don’t mention it,” He said like he’s said thousands of times before. Another Tuesday with Nam-Gyu and Thanos.
~
Something terrible was happening; Nam-Gyu could feel it in his bones. The feeling stabbed at his throat, forming waves of anxiety, but a bigger feeling crashed into his chest. One he was only comfortable letting out in a secluded bathroom such as this one. The same one he and Thanos had reconciled months ago. Grief. Unadulterated, unmanageable mourn for a relationship dead from the beginning. One he had been dragging like a corpse. Sobs beat through his body as he collapsed onto the floor. Music leaked from the door, reminding Nam-Gyu how fucking helpless he was. He could cry; He could scream all he wanted, and the party would continue.
He felt purple. He felt messy. He felt decked in fake gold jewelry. Nam-Gyu, more than anything, wanted to ruin this party and make these fake fucks feel the same grief and hopelessness as he. Only physical. He could ram his fists into their stomachs, threaten their loved ones, and be dragged away.
A wash of familiarity covered his shaking body. He’d felt these urges before, but not by himself. He felt someone else feel them. It seems everything about Nam-Gyu is from Thanos. Joy, anger, sadness, all inspired by Thanos, never directed towards Thanos.
He understood. Why Thanos ran. Why Thanos bites. It wasn’t fear. It wasn't an escape. It wasn’t to cope.
It was because he was an animal who wasn’t made to do anything else.
Thanos bites, Thanos bleeds, and Nam-Gyu follows. Because he is an animal who isn’t made to do anything else. Nam-Gyu is the fly that follows a carcass of a failed predator. One who was never hungry in the first place, but empty. He surrounds Thanos, mourning him as he feeds off him. It’s him. It’s always been him. And it’s always been Thanos.
Nam-Gyu wasn’t religious. He and Thanos went to his biological dad’s funeral, but were quickly thrown to the curb after Thanos spat at the corpse and stole his necklace. But, something was terribly wrong, spiritually unnatural like how Adam felt when he followed Eve in biting the apple. When he followed the only loveable one in his life to betray the world around him for the sake of betraying it together. Because what is satisfaction in the name of love? What is eternal damnation in the face of solitude?
Nam-Gyu felt a shift in him like how an amputee sees the gap in their leg for the first time. And like how an amputee can’t run; Nam-Gyu couldn’t care.
~
This party fucking blows. Thanos sighed, laying back on the couch and shutting his eyes. He thought about going home, but a strange phenomenon occurred as he did–he thought about Nam-Gyu’s bed. Fuck. Thanos groaned; Everything was so fucked up. He chucked his red solo cup at a random dark head before slinging himself off the couch.
Fuck that! Fuck Nam-Gyu! Thanos is fucking great. He doesn’t need some greasy junkie to hold his hand. He has his confidence, his looks, and his ectasy. All good, brother. Somehow, his hands found another red solo cup, heavier than the last as he slammed it into the same dark-haired head. Brown liquid splashed through the air and into the short hair in front of him, the remaining beer beating against the floor like bullets.
He knew it wasn’t drug-induced paranoia when he felt everyone looking at him.
Oh fuck these pussies, Thanos needs another bump. Barely registering the sound of cheap shoes sliding around the floor, Thanos sauntered to the kitchen, arms swinging to his nose as he walked. Fumbling his way through sweaty bodies and couples making-out, he found a blank spot on the counter and hunched over it. He dumped the white powder onto it, choking and beating the bag for every particle of happiness it had to offer.
As he cleared the counter for space for his nostrils, an unimportant shatter echoed around him, and his feet painlessly met points of glass. Unimportant in comparsion to the powder stained under his nose. He straightened up, stretched, and stepped heel-to-toe in the puddle of glass. A smile suffocated its way to his lips. Again, he stepped, the arches of his foot being pushed into the now slightly red shards. Head to toe numbed, the shards couldn’t hurt him. Nothing could.
A sharp inhale stood at the doorway, and Thanos caught its eye with the look of a a teenager shoplifting for the first time. An older boy stood completely straight, arms glued to his sides like a poorly made doll. If Thanos squinted, he would have been able to see beer running down the man’s forehead and the face of the senior who rocked his shit mere months ago. As if his clenched fists were a figment, the taller man gently walked to the shattered picture frame.
His picture frame.
On the filthy floor, the photo of him, a baby, and an older woman in the hospital lay ruined like the moment after the picture was taken. Water clung to the paper’s skin, revealing the writing on the back of the bittersweet photo:
Baby Kang and Mother Kim. Time of death: 19:23.47.
A snicker pried through Thanos’s lips. What, is he supposed to take this fucker in his arms and say they’re in a better place. Fuck that dead ass baby. Fuck that dead ass mom. Why should he give a fuck. Nobody gave a fuck about him.
He yanked his shoulders back and pushed his lips together. Why’d he use past tense?
~
The six year old boy stood at the driveway, watching his mama and daddy scream into each other’s air. The sounds of her fists beating against the windshield was duller than the regular sound of bottles meeting the wall. He stood boldly on the withering concrete, staring obviously. His father had loaded his last box in the car. After much struggle sounding out the letters, Su-Bong read ‘Jang’s Stuff.’ Mama’s friend is coming too!
His mother howled on her knees, throwing herself at the car as his father turned on the engine. She must need more time to pack. Su-Bong held his schoolbag packed with snacks and books for the road. Daddy is going to open the door for him in a second. Mama just needs to go back outside. He wonders where they’re going. Gangnam…or maybe Seoul! Will he get to go to a new school? Will their house be bigger? He clutched his purple bag to his chest and rocked back on his heels.
The car roared to life, giving its final warning for his mother to let go of the windshield. Mama always said stubborness was the greatest gift. Finally, Daddy told Su-Bong to come.
“Move, bitch!”
He ran towards the car, backpack shaking across his shoulders as he did. He was the fastest kid in class, but he didn’t reach the car door before it started moving.
Neither did his mama.
He wailed, pounding at the truck of the car. “Daddy! Mama-Mama’s there-stop!” Tears weighed his eyes downward in a way they’ve never recovered from. The window opened, hope filling Su-Bong like water in lungs.
“God, Su-bong’s such a pussy,” Daddy mumbled to himself as the tires screeched off his mama and into the distance. Su-Bong stood motionlessly, taking in her crushed curve of bones and flatted arms. Like she was roadkill. Like she was just another can at the side of the road.
“Su-Bong…help…please…call…hospital.”
The six-year-old boy looked at his mama, watching her go stiller and stiller. He didn’t move. “...Mama?”
“I said-! Call the fucking hospital!”
He knelt next to her, his feet feeling as if h had yanked them from wet cemet. “The doctors said you can’t get anymore medicine. Why do you want to go?”
He didn’t see the blood.
Su-Bong swears he didn’t.
To the police. To his classmates. To his uncle.
But as he laid in the rough bed of a temporary group home, he saw the blood. Coating his hands like spider webs. In his throat like salvia. Under his nostrils like Vicks. He knows it so clearly. Her blood. Her wails.
Su-Bong threw the covers over his head, burying his knees in his knees as if he had something to hide from.
Her suffering. It felt good.
~
“Pick it up and leave.”
Thanos held his foot over the picture, close to drowning it further in the puddle. Till the faces were wiped from earth. Till their time of death was now.
Another senior appeared–one with hair to his ears. “Get out.” Both their words were clipped yet unwavering. He crushed the photo with his shoe, wrinkling it in the puddle while his glare remained on the two men.
“In-ho-”
Without a second to spare, In-ho’s fist met Thanos’s nose, making him slam onto the counter. “I’ll do it again, bitch!” Thanos pushed, swinging his fist to In-ho’s chest who caught it like a bear catching fish.
Fuck.
By the collar, Thanos was thrown against the fridge, head cracking against the corner. His eyes darted around instinctively. Punches caught his face by the second, each landing with a sickly thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Crack!
In-ho’s grip on his shoulders kept him from doubling over or holding his jaw. He felt it go slack, popping out of place. Yells spilled from him uncontrollably as In-ho only watched. His screams attracted a circle around him, all cheering for his pain.
He screamed, eyes squinting shut as he struggled like an upside-down bug.
~
He wishes he could say something happened to make him like this, but up until he was ten, his life was pretty normal. No creepy uncles, no living on the streets, never starved. But when he was born, he cried like the umbilical cord was choking him. He cried like his mothers arms were the mouth of a beast.
He was a baby. And he cried. Normal, right?
He cried as he left the hospital. On the way home. In his crib. He didn’t sleep his first night on earth. Or the second. Or the many following after.
He wanted something. Ever since he was born, he needed something stronger than air to keep him going. He didn’t know what–wasn’t even capable of knowing–yet he still cried for it. Su-Bong later found out he was born addicted to drugs.
That’s how it happened. His mother shot herself up with him inside. So his first experience of the world around him was already dreadfully dull in comparsion.
His first time with drugs went exactly as you’d think. Nostalgic. Like his whole life had been building up to this very moment. The fifteen years prior to the white gold were spent as Su-Bong. Quiet. Weak. Scared.
It was like watching his mom bleed. Over. And over. And over. And over again. And when they quickly wore off, Su-Bong found himself doing anything to feel again. Anything for the warmth and belief that he was perfect and everything that came with it.
Anything.
One sunny day, his mother, scarred and resentful, came into her son’s room. Her son, freshly purple hair and queer-painted nails, on his knees for her boyfriend who was holding a baggie of colorful pills.
Su-Bong didn’t see his room for five months after that.
~
Tears warmed Nam-Gyu’s face, waking him up from his corpse-like state. Something was wrong. Something was so wrong; Nam-Gyu couldn’t breathe. Sobs spasmed in his throat as his fingers found their way in his hair, but it wasn’t right. They should be thicker. Squeezing his eyes shut, he imagines mismatched nails buried in his straight hair and a purple head on his chest.
It felt warmer than his tears and righter than the pills he took. Thanos—he should go find him, situate himself in his rightful place around Thanos’s shoulders.
His lack of air brought him back to the cold tiles.
Fearful intuition cut through his veins, making each pump of blood feel like a clock ticking to its eventual end.
Something was wrong. He was gonna die. Oh God, he was gonna fucking die. Nam-Gyu should’ve called for help, grappled at his phone or stick his arm out the door. He remained in place for one reason.
He didn’t if “he” meant him or his other self. The lines between them have begun to blur.
~
Thanos’s struggles weakened, falling limp from asphyxiation or lack of motivation. Fuck. Only his eyes had the motive to try. Past the crowd, through the cameras, away from the blood pooling at his feet. Nam-Gyu. Where is Nam-Gyu? Faces and sounds merged to create an abstract painting with specs of black infiltrating the corners.
Nam-Gyu.
Nam-Gyu.
Where is Nam-Gyu?
Thanos needs him.
Su-Bong needs him.
Something poured from his face, the wet and burning sensation bringing him away from the hands on his neck. It was blood so salty it had to be diluted with something…
He was crying. Thanos. He was crying in front of this crowd of people. Not from the pain. Not from fear. But from the familiar feeling coiling and snapping in his gut. One he was born with. One he had hugged every night at the group home and ate as every meal growing up.
Nam-Gyu had abandoned him, sick of Thanos’s countless shit and with some other bitch. They’re probably fucking right now, calling Thanos Su-Bong as they mock how much worse he was in bed. Or maybe there was nobody and Nam-Gyu just left. He clasped the feeling tight in his fists because it was his last remains of Nam-Gyu.
His name stumbled from his lips like a prayer. Like directions to a far off, impossible destination.
“Nam-Gyu-”
The hands holding Thanos by the throat were yanked away, so he fell into the puddle of his blood, his jaw letting out another unnatural ‘Snap!’ His eyes slipped shut immediately, the warmth of his blood like a lullaby he was never sung.
“You went too far! Look at him!” A raspy voice yelled.. The crowd around him dispersed in a panic with the slam of a door. No phones, no jeers, no punches.
Just Thanos, completely alone. Laying in his blood with his bones meeting the air for the first time. Like mother, like son.
Is Nam-Gyu coming soon?
Su-Bong is scared to sleep alone.