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Choi Subong, better known by his rap moniker Thanos, should have been used to the disappointment in people’s eyes. He had seen it enough times–his mother's gaze clouded with sorrow as he spiraled deeper into addiction, past lovers watching as his debts mounted, and Namsu–or was it Namgyu?–whenever he tried, however briefly, to break free from the drugs that numbed him.
He just wanted to be himself, was that not allowed?
No matter how hard he fought, he remained on a treadmill leading nowhere. Fame, drugs, women–none of it could fill the void he so desperately tried to ignore.
And on that cold night, standing at the edge of the bridge, he felt nothing. No fear, no sadness. Just exhaustion. He had given everything up, and yet nothing changed. The weight on his shoulders remained, suffocating him, pressing down like an immovable force. The city lights flickered below, indifferent to his suffering.
Then came his light at the end of the tunnel.
Park Minsu.
His boy, Minsu. Who was way too good for him. To him. The soft-spoken boy who couldn’t help but wear his emotions on his sleeve, his face revealing his every thought before he could speak them.
With Minsu, Subong could just exist–breathe without feeling the burn in his lungs that had become second nature. With Minsu, he was enough.
But it hadn’t been easy.
Their beginning was rocky. Full of short tempers, arguments, tears, and relapses—all on Subong’s end. His curated image, his self-destructive tendencies, his fear of being loved for who he truly was–he fought against all of it, and against Minsu too.
He expected Minsu to leave, just like everyone else had. But no matter how imperfect he was, no matter how many times he stumbled, Minsu stayed.
It had all started on a night Subong barely remembered. He had seen Minsu around before–heard his name from mutual friends, knew he was quiet, kind one, the boy with too much heart. But that night, when Subong was slumped against the cold concrete outside a club, half-drunk and lost in thought, he hadn’t expected anyone to stop.
“Hey,” Minsu had said gently. “You okay?”
Subong had laughed, bitter and low. “Do I look okay?”
Minsu didn’t flinch. He simply sat beside him, their shoulders brushing. “Not really.”
They talked. Or rather, Minsu, despite his shy nature, talked, and Subong listened. About nothing and everything. About the way he liked to watch the city lights from rooftops, how he had an old dog back home he missed, how he didn’t really like clubs but had been dragged out anyway.
It was the first time in a long time that someone had spoken to Subong like he was just a person, not an idol, not a failure. Just someone worth sitting beside on a lonely night.
That was the start.
After that, Minsu had a habit of showing up at just the right time. When Subong was too lost in his head, when the temptation to fall back into old habits felt too strong. Minsu would appear, sometimes with nothing but a quiet presence, other times with soft reassurances. He never pushed, never asked for more than Subong was willing to give. And eventually, the older man found himself wanting to give more.
One night, after a particularly bad relapse, after an argument where he had yelled, expecting Minsu to finally walk away–the younger man simply looked at him, eyes full of something too deep to name, and said, “I’m not leaving.”
And he hadn’t.
Even now, years into their relationship, Subong still couldn’t understand what Minsu saw in him.
“You are so strong, Subong. Despite everything, you continue to try and better yourself. You care more than anyone I know.”
Minsu’s voice was barely above a whisper, gentle like his touch as his fingers raked through Subong’s artificial purple locks.
Subong gazed up at him in awe. One of the things he had come to realize he loved about Minsu was how he always saw the best in people. No matter their reputation, no matter their mistakes, he saw them as simple, real human beings–capable of change.
And the more time Subong spent with him, the harder he fell.
He wasn’t blind–Minsu was beautiful. One of the prettiest people he had ever laid eyes on. The soft, short black hair that sometimes hid his puppy-dog eyes. The way his lips were bitten raw, the skin around his nails always picked and torn. Imperfections others might dismiss, but to Subong, they were captivating.
But it wasn’t just his looks.
Minsu was kind. He was real. After a lifetime of being surrounded by fakeness, by people who only cared about appearances, Minsu was a breath of fresh air. A quiet, stubborn force that refused to let go.
“Hey, are you okay? You’ve been pretty quiet all night, Su.”
Soft hands framed his face, pulling him from his thoughts. Minsu’s touch was always so warm. A small smile stretched across Subong’s lips.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Just thinking.”
Minsu studied him for a moment, his head tilting slightly. “About what?”
Subong exhaled, letting his eyes roam over Minsu’s face. The same face that had been his anchor when he thought he would drown.
“You.”
Minsu’s lips parted slightly, surprise flickering in his expression before a soft, pleased smile took its place. Minsu’s fingers traced the sharp angles of his boyfriend’s jaw, his touch grounding, reassuring.
“Good thoughts, I hope.”
“The best,” Subong admitted, leaning further into his touch.
Minsu chuckled softly and ran his fingers through Subong’s hair, his nails lightly scratching against his scalp in the way the older man loved.
“You’re sappy tonight.”
Subong smirked. “Maybe. You bring it out of me.”
Minsu huffed but didn’t deny it. He let his hand drift down, tracing the curve of Subong’s cheek with his thumb. The atmosphere between them grew heavier, the city humming quietly outside their shared apartment.
“Want to go for a walk? Clear your head?”
Subong hesitated but nodded. Minsu grabbed his coat, and they stepped out into the cold night air. Their fingers brushed against each other before Minsu finally just took his hand. Subong glanced at him, amused, but didn’t pull away.
The streets were quiet, the city lights reflecting off the damp pavement. They walked in comfortable silence. It wasn’t about where they were going–it was about being together.
The older man had always been an over-thinker, his mind a storm of memories and worries. But with Minsu, his thoughts narrowed to just one thing.
His partner.
“You’re thinking again,” he murmured, amusement in his voice. Not unkind. Never unkind.
Subong swallowed, heart hammering as he caught the way Minsu’s lips parted, waiting. The warmth in his chest spread, the kind that made him believe–just maybe–he was allowed to have this. To be wanted in return, despite his flaws.
“Yeah,” Subong admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “About how lucky I am to get to love you.”
Minsu’s breath hitched, barely perceptible, but Subong caught it. And then there was no space left between them. Minsu leaned in, their lips brushing, soft and tentative, like giving Subong a moment to pull away.
He didn't. He never would.
He pressed forward, deepening the kiss, fingers slipping into Minsu’s hair as he sighed into his warmth. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was steady, grounding, filled with a quiet devotion.
Even after three years, they still gave each other butterflies, still made each other feel new.
When they finally parted, Minsu’s forehead rested against his, cheeks flushed.
“You’re such a sap,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I love you.”
Subong chuckled, tracing slow patterns against Minsu’s hip. “Only for you. I love you too.”
Minsu rolled his eyes but didn’t let go. Instead, he stepped closer, wrapping his arms around his partner's neck.
“Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”
And for the first time, Subong believed him.
They stood there for a while, wrapped up in each other, beneath the dim glow of the streetlights. The world moved on around them, cars passing, voices echoing in the distance. But in that moment, none of it mattered.
It was just them.
Just them, and the quiet certainty that this—whatever they had built together, whatever they had yet to build—was real. Was theirs.
Because love wasn’t just grand gestures or poetic confessions–it was in the quiet moments. In the hand that never let go, even when things got hard.
“Come on,” Minsu whispered. “Let’s go home.”
Subong squeezed his hand, letting himself be led forward. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”
And for the first time in his life, home wasn’t just a place.
Home was Minsu.