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Namgyu is staying the night at Thanos’ house. There’s no particular reason, just dudes being dudes. Passing blunts and popping pills in the same bed, inches away from another. He curls slightly closer to the older, voice low when he speaks. “Hyung.”
Thanos glances over at Namgyu, a smirk playing on his lips as he takes another drag from his cigarette. The smoke curls around them in the dimly lit room, obscuring the posters of famous musicians on the walls. He exhales slowly, letting the haze settle between them. Namgyu watches the smoke, eyes following it as if he’s in a trance.
He parts his lips, making some sort of hand signal for the cigarette. He doesn’t even like the taste, nor anything about it, but it tastes like Thanos. A mix of menthol and alcohol, sometimes if he’s lucky, toothpaste is mixed in there.
Thanos holds the cigarette out to Namgyu, his thumb brushing against the younger boy's lips as he hands it over. He watches intently as Namgyu takes a long drag, the ember glowing brightly as he holds the smoke in his lungs. Once Namgyu blows it out, he chokes on it a few times. Inexperienced with cigarettes, unlike the fein of a man that his hyung is. He smiles stupidly between coughs, pretending nothing is happening. The raven-haired boy passes the cigarette back, making sure his hands brush Thanos’.
Thanos takes the cigarette back, inhaling deeply as he watches Namgyu cough. He chuckles softly, finding amusement in Namgyu's inexperience with smoking. He sets the cigarette down in an ashtray, his fingers tracing patterns on Namgyu's arm.
Namgyu nuzzles his nose into Thanos’ neck. It’s normal, it’s not romantic. He repeats it to himself a million times, it’s not romantic. He mumbles something about disliking the taste of menthol, though it’s just to fill the void of silence.
Thanos tilts his neck, allowing Namgyu closer. He chuckles, his breath tickling Namgyu's ear. “You didn't complain when you stole my favorite pen last week, Namsoo. Hypocrite.”
Namsoo, the nickname that always made his heart flutter, even if it was because Thanos’ couldn’t remember his actual name. He doesn’t respond, shrugging with a shit eating grin. Namgyu playfully places a few kisses on Thanos’ neck, like guys do. A joke, of course.
Thanos inhales sharply as Namgyu's lips trail down his neck, his fingers instinctively gripping the younger boy's hair. He tugs gently, tilting Namgyu's head back to expose his throat. His voice is low and raspy. “Careful, Namsoo.”
God, would he stop saying that stupid name? Namgyu blinks a few times, though he decides to keep the act up. He whines out a protest, pouting like a bitch. “Not trying to get in your pants, Subong-hyung, just wanna kiss you.” Thanos hates his real name being used.
Thanos sighs, his resolve weakening. He reaches up to cup Namgyu's face, his thumb brushing over the pouty lips. “Fine, just kisses. But if you try anything else, you're sleeping on the couch tonight.” Namgyu isn’t sure where the joke starts and ends anymore.
Namgyu almost parts his lips to suck on Thanos’ thumb, but he stops himself. He looks up at the older with glassy eyes, so frail.
Thanos stares back, his expression unreadable. He slowly drags his thumb across Namgyu's bottom lip, teasing a gentle parting. He can see the drugs clouding Namgyu's eyes, making him look fragile and breakable.
Namgyu decides to test the waters, poking his tongue out to swirl around Thanos’ thumb. He has that same look on his face, the one he has when he’s purposely pissing someone off. Thanos' breath hitches as Namgyu's warm tongue wraps around his thumb. He pulls his hand back abruptly, standing up and grabbing Namgyu by the arm.
“Enough, Namsoo. You're getting too attached.”
Namgyu lets out a whine, one he isn’t sure is part of the joke or not. He tries to contain himself, his normal, confident demeanor. But all that comes out is a sappy look and downturned corners of his lips. He nods anyway.
Thanos sighs and releases Namgyu's arm, running a hand through his hair. He turns away, his voice quieter.
“You should get some sleep. In the guest room. Alone. “
He emphasizes the last word, making sure Namgyu understands.
“Goodnight, Namsoo.”
“Hyung,” Namgyu whispers, as if he had been kicked. He repeats it a few times as if it’s a prayer.
“Hyung, don’t wanna sleep alone.” He doesn’t wanna sleep alone cause he gets scared when he’s high, that’s it. That’s all there is to it.
Thanos pauses, his hand on the doorknob. He turns back to look at Namgyu, his expression stern but his eyes softening slightly.
“You're not sleeping with me, Namsoo. I mean it.”
He opens the door and gestures for Namgyu to leave. The younger obeys, of course he does. He stumbles slightly, making his way to the guest room and sitting on the edge of the bed.
The room feels cold and unwelcoming, a stark contrast to the warmth he craves. His mind, clouded by the remnants of the drugs, amplifies his sense of isolation. He wraps his arms around himself, trying to ward off the chill that has nothing to do with the temperature.
The silence is deafening, broken only by the occasional creak of the house settling. Each sound makes him flinch, his heightened senses turning mundane noises into perceived threats. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to calm down, but the darkness behind his eyelids only intensifies his anxiety.
“Hyung,” he whispers into the emptiness, his voice trembling. The word echoes back at him, a painful reminder of Thanos’s rejection. He bites his lip, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill. He doesn’t want to be alone, not now, not ever. The fear of solitude gnaws at him, a relentless beast that feeds on his insecurities.
He lies down on the bed, curling into a fetal position. The sheets are cool against his skin, but they offer no comfort. His thoughts spiral, each one darker than the last. What if Thanos doesn’t want him anymore? What if he’s pushed too far this time? The uncertainty is unbearable.
Namgyu clutches the pillow, burying his face into it as if it could muffle the turmoil within him. He longs for Thanos’s presence, for the steady heartbeat that used to lull him to sleep. But all he has now is the empty space beside him, a void that seems to grow larger with each passing second.
As the night drags on, exhaustion finally takes its toll. His eyelids grow heavy, and his thoughts become disjointed. But even as sleep claims him, his dreams are haunted by the fear of abandonment, and the aching loneliness that has become his constant companion.
Namgyu drifts in and out of a restless sleep, his dreams fragmented and suffocating. Each time he closes his eyes, the memory of Thanos’s stern gaze lingers like a ghost. In his dreams, Thanos is there, standing just out of reach, always walking away.
The void in his chest feels physical now, a heavy weight pressing down on him. He wakes up with a gasp, sweat clinging to his skin as his pulse pounds in his ears. The dim light of the guest room doesn’t soothe him; it only reminds him of where he is—and more painfully, where he’s not.
He sits up, his head spinning slightly from the drugs still in his system. “This is stupid,” he mutters to himself, trying to shake off the clinging desperation. His voice wavers, though, betraying the fact that he doesn’t believe his own words.
His eyes wander to the door. He knows Thanos would be furious if he barged into his room. It wasn’t a joke anymore, Namgyu realized. Whatever game he thought he was playing had crossed a line even he couldn’t find his way back from. But still… he didn’t want to be here, all alone with his thoughts.
Namgyu pulls his knees to his chest, resting his forehead against them. He hates feeling this way—weak, pathetic, needy. He’s always been the one who could keep it together, who could brush things off with a smirk or a biting remark. But tonight, it’s like every piece of armor he’s ever built around himself has been stripped away.
A shaky breath escapes him. “Just sleep,” he whispers, as though willing himself to shut down would make it happen. He closes his eyes again, trying to summon the sound of Thanos’s voice, the weight of his arm slung over his shoulders like it sometimes was during lazy afternoons. Those small moments of closeness—were they ever real? Or was it all just another joke?
The questions swirl in his mind, unanswered, until finally, exhaustion overtakes him again. His breathing slows, his grip on the pillow loosens, and his body surrenders to a sleep that is anything but peaceful.