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Subong isn't usually the one to be insomniac in any way. He never stays up late, doesn't have anything to ponder in the middle of the night, doesn't care enough. Never cared enough.
Always knocks out early: be it during his prime time of fame and way of becoming a rapping legend, when he couldn't stay awake for more than 30 minutes from stepping foot in the hotel, or the complete downfall he's been experiencing ever since he believed that stupid crypto asshole.
He's never stayed awake for long.
Never is a strong word, one he's not prone to be using often. Once again it proves itself to be worthless, Subong thinks, finding himself having third in a row sleepless night on the harsh metal bed.
This thing can't even be called bed. These people laying next to him in equally shitty circumstances can't even be called opponents or teammates. They're just here.
If only he knew it'd be like this, he wouldn't have come here. Wouldn't have accepted the offer from the dude on the bridge, wouldn't have dragged Namgyu into this hellhole.
Namgyu. Again.
Subong is finding out a lot of things about himself lately, really.
He can be insomniac, just like others. He can be terrified and get panic attacks, just like his former producer used to do when they had big shows planned.
He can share the drugs with someone else, putting himself on the second place for the first time in his life.
First and last, that is.
There's something right in letting Namgyu get into his space. Something stabilizing in sitting down next to him, in the way Namgyu's dark hair frame his face, his stupidly pretty face in fact.
Something intimately fucked up in the way Subong is the only person Namgyu is not a total dick to.
He's seen the way Namgyu treats others. The way he shits on Semi all the time, the way he openly lies into Minsu's face, keeping him close just to use for his own interests later.
Seen how hateful Namgyu's expression gets the moment any of the contestants try to talk to him personally, one on one. How his eyebrows frown together, eyelids heavy, voice almost sharper than his usual tone. Subong tone.
A sound akin to a heartful chuckle leaves Subong against his will, and it only proves his theory. A theory of him having Namgyu wrapped around his finger, a theory of Namgyu being one to follow him anywhere without question, theory of having a Doberman that's taken a like to him on a leash.
It's a pleasant feeling. And he wants to be sure, so deeply fucking wants to be sure he's not equally wrapped around Namgyu's.
Wants to want to be sure. He'll never accept how much he wishes to mean more to Namgyu, even more than what he is to him now.
He wants to take up all the space.
He's dozed off in the thoughts of Namgyu's... everything for a bit. Or a bit is what he thinks, pretty sure of his assumptions. Until the lights turn on, that is.
Choi Subong has never stayed up all night long by himself.
The first all nighter in Subong's life Is dedicated to Namgyu of Club Pentagon.
___
That day they play some fuckass game again. Subong is too high out of his mind to remember the name, the rules or who died this game.
He does remember Namgyu. Namgyu's cold and comically, to Subong's ideas, thin hands grabbing his wrist, dragging him into some room.
Remembers the noise of both screaming at a player who got in with them. He doesn't know why they screamed, doesn't know what was the issue, hence he never gave a damn about the rules.
Subong does know that he hates sharing. He's always wanted everything he got to himself.
He wants Namgyu to himself. Wants whatever this shit they got together to himself, too.
He remembers now. The moment he beat the player up, the exact second they stopped breathing. The shooting on the other side of the door, too.
The way Namgyu held his hand through it, way his other hand was gently sliding through Subong's hair, too.
Subong is a very, very selfish person.
Even the most selfish human can make an exception. To love one more person.
Namgyu, for a fact, can be his exception. A beautifully dangerous one.
___
Subong opens his eyes and it feels like there are literal wooden sticks in his eyelids. He doesn't know what time it is, hence the game, the fuckass game doesn't even allow for windows to breathe, let alone the clock.
It's lights out, though. And maybe that's all he needs to know.
His entire body hurts - getting dragged and dragging others, pushing players, beating one up with intense strength, let alone the mental stress would do that to you.
That, however, isn't consolidating him at all.
Subong is about to sit up to get a sense of stabilization when a cold hand is touching his hair.
He flicks under spontaneous touch, looking up immediately. Oh. It's nothing serious, his dried out mind thinks.
It is very serious, he realizes when Namgyu crawls into his bed.
He's not wearing a green jacket, one Subong tends to hate for being both ugly and suffocatingly hot to wear. He can see Namgyu's body even clearer this way.
— What are you doin — Impressive sentence formed by a mind of someone who's seconds away from fainting due to exhaustion. Bong should be proud of himself.
Namgyu hums. He updrafts his one leg and lets it lie beside Subong's thighs, getting himself on top of the other.
Bong could be dreaming now.
It could be a nightmare, with how much of a control he lets Namgyu have over him.
It could be a dream, with how Namgyu is leaning towards him, letting their faces dangerously close to each other.
His entire face is burning crimson. That's alright. Subong's is too.
— Namsu, — he's cut off by other's hand on his mouth.
— Namgyu.
His hand leaves as quickly as it appeared, and the silence falls down between them. It's not awkward silence. Subong couldn't name last time they even had it awkward, too melted into each other's presence.
Namgyu's weight is comforting on top of his body. It's pinning Subong down, it's letting him believe there's more to life than just him.
For the first time, this thought isn't scary to him.
Namgyu moves first, letting out his typical awkward sigh. Subong thinks it's cute.
Namgyu Is lowering himself so he's chest to chest with Subong, letting his legs straighten to the bottom of the bed. He's dropping his head on Subong's chest.
— Thanos,
This time Subong places a finger on the other's lips.
He doesn't want to think that shine in Namgyu's at this moment is a reflection of the little light the room got.
— Subong. — He's the one drawing circles in the other's hair now. He's surprised to find out it's softer than his own, much gentler to the touch, considering Namgyu's poor hygiene choices.
Maybe he's naturally mesmerizing.
— You set your rules, I set mine.
Namgyu giggles and it's ticklish to Subong's body. He raises his head.
— It's not a rule, it's my name.
Namgyu looks mesmerizing in the cold, ambient lightning of this place.
Subong wants to kiss him.
So he does.
He's a selfish man, after all.
If it's a dream, Subong thinks, then it's a good one. Great one.
Because menacing to others, calculating and oh, so dedicated to his idol Namgyu isn't pushing him away.