Archive of Our Own

Nam-gyu hadn’t known exactly what he was expecting his relationship with Thanos to be like once they got out. Before the games, they’d practically been strangers; they knew each other from Thanos’ frequent trips to Club Pentagon, where Nam-gyu supplied Thanos’ need for something crazy , but those interactions were never really anything more than business. Nam-gyu saw the way Thanos came in weekend after weekend, eyes already blown and high out of his mind- Nam-gyu was sure that Thanos hadn’t known the difference between him and any other server at the club, or that he even cared, as long as he was getting what he wanted. 

Then there came some time of not seeing Thanos at all. The rapper was by no means Club Pentagon’s most valuable customer, but the absence of him and his larger-than-life personality definitely left a significant hole in the club’s atmosphere. His presence in the media had also gone rather silent (not that Nam-gyu had been actively looking or anything, it was just something he’d noticed…), and Nam-gyu assumed that maybe he was just laying low for a while out of the spotlight. 

And then, they’d reunited under circumstances that could only have been thought of by someone truly evil. Nam-gyu had been surprised to see Thanos in that arena wearing the same green jumpsuit as him, and Thanos seemed to not quite remember who Nam-gyu was, but they’d gravitated towards each other anyways, both of them looking for a sense of familiarity in that hell, they’d played the games together, and had just barely escaped together. But when you go through something like that with someone… 

Where does that leave you when it’s all over? 

Nam-gyu hadn’t known what exactly he was expecting his relationship with Thanos to be like, but it hadn’t been for Thanos to start coming back to the club, multiple times a week, and barely sparing Nam-gyu a glance. He hadn’t expected to go from being an ally- a friend- to Thanos in the games, to being treated like nothing more than a stranger again in the club. 

He hadn’t been expecting Thanos to act like nothing had happened between them at all.

It had been a little over a month since the games had ended, since Nam-gyu had been thrown out of a van on the side of the road in nothing but his underwear and left to fend for himself. He’d come away with some money, but the 350 million won he’d gained didn’t even cover the full amount of his debt, so to him it was pointless.

The amount of times I fucking risked my life in those games, he had thought miserably as he’d quickly dressed himself on the side of the road. The amount of times I nearly fucking died - all of that was worth at least a billion. As he had walked through the dark, alone, trying to find a way back home, he’d cursed all the fucking cowards who had voted to end the games- who had taken away his chance at 45 billion. 

Nam-gyu had been angry at first. Feelings of rage, envy, and helplessness festered inside him- leaving him so pissed off after getting kicked to the side of the road like a dog that he had stopped a group of high schoolers walking home that night and threatened them into giving up all the cash they had, just to because he could. Just to let his anger out on something . It hadn’t really made him feel any better, but at least he’d scared enough money out of the kids to buy a bottle of soju and a taxi home. 

“Still not 45 billion,” he’d muttered to himself as he sat on the side of the road, trying to drink away everything he’d gone through the past few days.

He’d been angry at first, but it wasn’t long before something else took over, something that was even worse than the anger- fear. Anger, he could take out on someone. He could get into a fight and beat the feelings out until his knuckles were raw and his nose bled and his skin bruised- and he did. It was too bad he’d always been better at instigating fights than winning them, but at least all the pain drowned out the rage for a while. But fear… Nam-gyu couldn’t escape that as easily, no matter how many punches he took. 

The first night he’d been back home, he realized he hadn’t left the games with just the money. His first night back in the comfort and safety of his own bed, he’d dreamt of being back in the crowd of green jumpsuits, standing beside Thanos as the carousel spun. Except, in his dream, he didn’t make it into the safety of the rooms. In his dream- his nightmare - he was locked to the ground as the eerily cheerful music stopped, replaced by gunfire and screams blaring in his ears as bodies around him fell, as blood spilled on the ground and splattered on him, as bullets tore through his own clothes and his flesh- 

When Nam-gyu woke up gasping for air, his entire body was trembling, but he also felt paralyzed. He couldn’t bring himself to move as those memories continued to flash in his mind, a harsh reminder that what happened within those walls wasn’t just a bad dream. It had all been real. All he could do was stare up at the ceiling, and try to catch his breath again and try to keep the tears from spilling, waiting for his mind to stop tormenting him.

That peace never came.

As the days went on, the nightmares continued. Nam-gyu could barely get more than two or three hours of sleep before he was woken up by memories of blood, screams, and death. Even when he was awake, the sound of a car horn going off suddenly flashed memories of gunfire; the sight of children playing red light, green light in the park made him remember that fucking doll and people getting gunned down around him; being in a crowded area with too many people hurrying around him brought him back to that final game, as players desperately ran and pushed each other into the line of fire to get themselves into a room… the way that Nam-gyu himself tore people away from the doors so he could slip inside. 

At the time, Nam-gyu had wanted so badly to stay in the games. One more game, he and Thanos had agreed. Now it seemed as though he got what he had wanted- he really hadn’t left the torture of the games after all. 

Through it all, through his hard days and even harder nights, Nam-gyu couldn’t help but think of Thanos as well. Where was he right now, and how was he dealing with it all? Sure, he’d been high out of his mind for a majority of the games, peacefully oblivious to the stress and fear that everyone else around him felt, but the trauma of the games had still seeped into Nam-gyu’s mind despite the pills he’d taken. He wondered how Thanos was handling the aftermath of everything- the memories, the loss, and the blood on his hands… if he even remembered any of it at all.

Once it had been decided that the games would be terminated, Nam-gyu had pulled Thanos to the side. “When we get out, come back to Club Pentagon and find me,” Nam-gyu had told him. “The stuff I got you before- remember? You said you liked it- and I can get you more of it, and something else that’s even better. Come find me.” At the time, he hadn’t been sure as to why he was so adamant, so… determined to see Thanos again. Why the first thing that crossed his mind after the announcement wasn’t relief that they were getting out with their lives, but rather that he needed to talk to Thanos. He wasn’t sure why, but he just knew that this couldn’t be it, the end of… whatever it was between them. If it even was anything at all. 

Thanos had been high then, not quite paying attention to what was going on as his body bounced to a beat that was only playing in his own head, but he had looked at Nam-gyu in that moment, and through his daze, he had smiled. “You better not be teasing me, Nam-su,” he said, his voice sing-songy as he placed one hand on Nam-gyu’s shoulder and the other on his cheek. Nam-gyu remembered the way a chill had run down his spine when he felt blood on Thanos’ hand press against his skin. 

“Nam- gyu ,” he corrected for what seemed like the hundredth time. “And I’m not. You trusted me before, remember? Trust me again.” Thanos had danced away after that, humming the tune to one of his own songs and living in his own world. It was one of the last times that Nam-gyu saw Thanos before the fight had broken out between the sides- one of the last times Nam-gyu saw Thanos before whoever ran the games started pumping the room with something and all the players would drop, falling asleep for the last time in that arena. 

Nam-gyu had gone back to Club Pentagon three days after he’d returned home. It took seconds to pay what he could of his debts to the loan sharks who were after his head- seconds to lose that 350 million won. Seconds to lose everything he’d risked his life to get. Once that was all gone, he’d crawled back to the club to sink right back into his old life. 

Thankfully, he was able to get back to his job without much difficulty. A vague story about a family emergency covered his sudden and unexplained disappearance for a few days, but one of the reasons why Nam-gyu liked working at the club was that nobody there ever asked too many questions. The nature of the club and its second, more underground business attracted a  specific group of people to work there- the type of people who had their own secrets as well, the type of people who weren’t completely clean. Nam-gyu had learned that if you stayed in your own lane, then the others would stay out of it, no questions asked.

A few days after returning to work, things started to feel somewhat normal again. Nightmares still stole his ability to sleep, and sometimes crept up on him during the day too, immobilizing him from doing anything other than remember, but at least being back at the club meant he could numb it all with shots and pills, filling his mind with a haze of drugs so there would be no room for the memories. 

Night after night he turned to the drugs to keep everything at bay… the same drugs he’d promised Thanos, who had yet to make an appearance. 

As the days went on, Nam-gyu became more… he wouldn’t admit it, but he was getting nervous about Thanos. The last time he’d seen his friend, Thanos had been bleeding out on the floor after getting stabbed with a goddamn fork by that MG Coin bastard. Nam-gyu hadn’t been able to see where the injury was- Thanos had been too far away, there were too many people rushing around them, and there was too much blood- how much blood could a person lose? Nam-gyu didn’t know- all he knew was the panic he’d felt upon seeing Thanos cry out in pain, his face twisting in fear, blood spilling over his hands. He’d started to run over, but getting tackled from behind knocked Nam-gyu to the ground in another fight, and he realized he had to focus on not getting himself killed. The last thing he remembered was seeing Thanos’ white T-shirt turn red before a foul-smelling gas filled the room, and everything went dark. 

Whether or not the injury was fatal, Nam-gyu didn’t know. That paired with Thanos’ silence over these past weeks only made him dwell on the worst case scenario- that Player 230 had never made it out of the games. That he had bled out and died there, alone, on a dirty bathroom floor.

Nam-gyu feared the worst, until one night when a group of people walked into the club, making him freeze in his tracks.

It was always dark in the club, the floor lit with colourful lights but never quite enough to see clearly. But Nam-gyu saw him as soon as he stepped through the door to the VIP lounge- he was dressed in dark clothes, like he wanted to fade into the darkness of the club, and wore a hat that covered his recognizable hair and cast a shadow over his face. Large black sunglasses shielded his eyes, but through it all, through the disguise and the group of people surrounding him, Nam-gyu could see him. Thanos. He was alive and he was here, just as Nam-gyu had asked him to be. Nam-gyu wasn’t sure how to describe how he felt- not quite relief or surprise, but something else. A feeling he could only really compare to that of getting high, but more.

A hostess quickly greeted the group, leading them over to a corner of the room where they all took a seat on a circle of plush couches. Two girls who Nam-gyu recognized as frequenters of the club took a seat on either side of Thanos, one of them placing a hand on his thigh and the other running her fingers along his chest as he took off his hat and sunglasses. When Thanos smiled at them, stretching his arms out along the back of the couch alongside both girls, another strange feeling washed over Nam-gyu, something turning in his stomach. If he hadn’t been so relieved with the conformation that Thanos wasn’t dead, he might have recognized the feeling as the same one that had overtook him whenever Thanos had tried to flirt with those girls back in the games, or even when he’d gotten extra friendly with that bastard Min-su, but in that moment, trying to understand his own emotions was the last thing he cared to do. In that moment, he only had one thing- one person - on his mind. 

He watched as the hostesses took orders and poured drinks, trying to catch Thanos’ eye from his place behind the bar. But Thanos never even looked over in his direction; it seemed he only had eyes for the girls on his sides, who were whispering and giggling into his ear and running their hands all over him. He was considering going over there himself when Thanos finally gestured one of the hostesses over and said something to her. They exchanged some words, and after the hostess gave him a smile and nod, she began walking over to Nam-gyu.

“He’s asking for someone named Nam-su,” the hostess said as she leaned across the bar, nodding towards Thanos with an air of confusion in her words. “I’m assuming that he probably means you, because he wouldn’t listen to me when I told him no one by that name works here and just insisted that I ‘go get him’ .” Nam-gyu rolled his eyes; it was almost as though Thanos tried to forget his name more than remember it. But over the annoyance, he still felt a thrill pass through him, taking hold of his heart and pumping it faster. He gave a quick nod of understanding to the hostess and slipped into the back to where he kept the supply Thanos was looking for. 

Nam-gyu hadn’t realized just how eager he’d been to see Thanos again until he was finally walking up to him. Over a month of nothing, of not even knowing if he’d made it out of that arena alive, left Nam-gyu with a feeling of excitement as he crossed the lounge and stepped behind the couch. Thanos didn’t seem to have noticed his approach, so Nam-gyu bent down over the back of the couch, placing a hand on Thanos’ shoulder and leaning in so he could speak in a low voice, but still be heard over the music. 

“You fucking bastard,” he said with a grin. “I’m glad you-” 

I’m glad you made it out alive, he was going to say, but never got the chance to before Thanos whipped his head around, and looked at Nam-gyu with a gaze that was as cold as it was unfamiliar. “You have it?” he asked, the same cold arrogance in his voice.

Nam-gyu was startled for a moment, as he stared at the man before him- so unlike the Thanos who had once smiled at him and placed a hand on his cheek as they made plans to reunite when they got out. And now, here they were- free and alive and face to face again, and Thanos looked like he couldn’t care less. 

In that moment, Nam-gyu brushed it off just as Thanos not wanting to draw attention to them. After all, what would the people around them think if they had heard Nam-gyu say ‘ I’m glad you made it out alive’ ? Surely they would have questions- questions that neither Nam-gyu nor Thanos would know how to answer. It was probably for the best that he’d been cut off; they could find a time to talk alone later. 

Nam-gyu replaced the wad of cash in Thanos’ hand with a small packet of powder. “I said I would,” he told him with a small smile, running his hand along Thanos’ shoulder before straightening up and taking a step back from the couch. There was no indication of thanks from the other man as he closed his hand around the packet. Thanos simply turned back to the conversation he was having with one of the girls at his side, and just like that, he was done with Nam-gyu.

He stalked back over to the bar, where several drink orders had already piled up in the time he’d been gone. He quickly returned to work- he couldn’t let those orders sit for too long if he wanted to make a good tip that night- but as he poured drink after drink, he kept his eyes on Thanos, desperate for just a glimmer of attention. 

Thanos didn’t look over to the bar once, and left without a word before Nam-gyu even had a chance to try approaching him again. 

It was the same the next time he came a few days later, as well as the time after that. 

For nearly three weeks, it seemed as though Thanos was completely ignoring the fact that he and Nam-gyu had fought together to survive those sick games. It was as though he had forgotten all the times Nam-gyu had fought for him, had taken his side, even when Thanos was being purposefully antagonistic or throwing Nam-gyu under the bus. 

It was like they had become strangers again, the only thing connecting them being the drugs and money secretly passed between their hands.

Until one night, when Nam-gyu noticed something… off , about Thanos. 

It was a Saturday, which was always the club’s busiest night. Even the VIP lounge was hosting more guests than usual, leaving Nam-gyu with about a million orders of drinks to make and barely enough time to even think about Thanos, who had gotten to the club about a half hour earlier- until the other man finally caught his eye. 

Thanos had a very distinct demeanor- it was what made him the recognizable social figure that he was. He was known for being arrogant and confident- a lot of which came from what Nam-gyu knew as a side effect of his drugs, but also from his own personal belief that he was at the top of the world. Even when he was sober, he never took anything seriously other than himself- in Thanos’ mind, he was always the most important person in the room.

That night, it was like a completely different person had walked in.

Just like the rest of the club, the lounge was packed, dozens of different voices speaking over each other, trying to be heard over the music that blared from the speakers; normally, Thanos would be craving attention, trying to bring everyone’s focus to himself. But that night, he was silent. He had come in with a group of friends like always- some of whom Nam-gyu recognized and others that he didn’t. While Thanos usually sought the spotlight everywhere he went, that night he sat near the edge of the couch, seeming disconnected from the conversations around him. A woman was seated next to him, the straps of her skimpy dress hanging loose off her shoulders and her hand running up and down his arm as she flirted with him, an alluring look in her eyes and her red-painted lips curving into a smile. Any other day, that would have probably led to Thanos sneaking out of the lounge to a nearby hotel with her clinging to his arm; Nam-gyu had seen him disappear from the club in that very manner countless times. But that night, Thanos seemed to have no interest in the woman, or anyone, at all. He didn’t lean into her seduction, he didn’t even look at her. If she was talking to him, Nam-gyu doubted he was listening, not with that glazed look over his eyes. When the woman finally seemed to realize she wasn’t going to get the attention she was looking for, she got up with a huff and turned to the group of partiers that were taking shots on the other side of the couch. Thanos didn’t watch her leave, if he even noticed she was gone. 

Nam-gyu knew that when Thanos was high, he went off into his own world- dissociated from whatever was happening around him until he came back down. But Nam-gyu had seen Thanos on enough of his trips to know what they looked like- and this wasn’t one of them. His eyes occasionally shifted around the room, darting back and forth between the different parties enjoying themselves around him, the expression on his face clearly uneasy. When he wasn’t watching his surroundings, he was staring down at his hands resting in his lap- alternating between tapping his long, tattooed fingers against his thighs and using his thumbs to roughly pick at the skin around his nails. His legs were bouncing rapidly, which wasn’t uncommon for Thanos, who always seemed to have far too much energy to contain inside himself, but once again, Nam-gyu didn’t think that was the case; it didn’t seem like regular fidgeting to relieve his hyperactivity, but rather that his legs were shaking from nerves he couldn’t suppress.

Nam-gyu tried to chalk it up to whatever drugs Thanos had probably taken that night. He’d had his own fair share of drug-induced trips of paranoia- especially recently, given that his mind had a whole new set of bad memories to taunt him with- and he knew that Thanos was into some way harder shit than Nam-gyu ever did. Maybe he’d just shot up more than he could handle, and in a few hours he’d come back down… but that still didn’t feel right to Nam-gyu. He’d watched Thanos get high out of his mind time and time again in this very room, he knew what it looked like, he even knew what it looked like when Thanos went too far- and this wasn’t it. 

Realization came down around Nam-gyu all at once, though, when a loud crack sounded through the room, cutting through all the voices and the music. Thanos reacted suddenly and harshly- his entire body jerked back against the couch, his hands gripping the fabric so tightly Nam-gyu thought he might tear the velvet. His face had gone pale, and his eyes… Nam-gyu never knew eyes could hold so much fear. 

The sound came from a bottle of champagne being popped open in the middle of the room, accompanied by cheers and laughs as glasses started getting passed around and filled with the bubbling alcohol.

A champagne bottle. It was something that Nam-gyu had heard a hundred times before, something that normally left him just as excited to drink and celebrate as the rest of the club patrons- but that night, it left him with his hands gripping the edge of bar tightly to keep his own balance, his heart racing as a chill snaked down his spine. Thanos’ reaction suddenly made sense, because Nam-gyu had had the same one… because they had both heard the same thing.

Not a pop of champagne, but the crack of a gunshot. And suddenly, Nam-gyu was back in that arena, in a blood-stained green jumpsuit, his head spinning from the rounds and rounds of bullets shooting through the air and into bodies, bodies falling to the ground, the ground stained with blood-

Nam-gyu curled his hands into fists, digging his nails deeply into his palms to bring himself out of his own memories, to stop this nightmare before he spiraled into one of those fits where his head spun and his chest tightened and he felt like he was suffocating. He looked back up and out into the crowd of partiers, his eyes landing directly on Thanos- only to see that he was in an even worse state. Nam-gyu could see his chest rising and falling in rapid, panicked breaths, his expression ashen as his eyes darted around the room. His hands were no longer absent-mindedly fidgeting, but visibly trembling now, so much so that when he pulled his cross pendant out from under his shirt, he struggled to get it open. 

Despite the reputation of Club Pentagon and the services they provided, most of the clientele still remained discreet when they took drugs, even in the VIP lounge. They went to a private room to shoot up, or slipped a hidden pill from their hand to their mouth with practiced sleight-of-hand, or asked a bartender to mix them a special drink. It was just one of the unwritten rules of the club, and usually, Thanos handled his consumption with that expectation of stealth; tonight, all of that was out the window. He didn’t seem to care that some of the members of his group were starting to glance towards him, sharing confused looks as they whispered to each other, most likely about him. He didn’t seem to care that when he finally popped open the latch on his cross, everyone around him could see the multi-coloured pills he kept in there. His shaking fingers popped a pill into his mouth without a hint of subtlety, and when the sound of a second bottle being opened cracked through the room, he flinched, and took another. 

Nam-gyu had never seen Thanos like this before. Before everything had happened, Thanos built his reputation by radiating confidence wherever he went, bringing a certain light with him that made others forget their worries and laugh along to the obnoxious, but likeable, celebrity character of Thanos . Even in the weeks since they’d been released, he’d seemed so… normal (well, aside from completely ignoring Nam-gyu), that Nam-gyu thought that maybe the games hadn’t affected him at all. But now, as he watched that mask of self-assurance and nonchalance crack and crumble away, as paranoia manifested in Thanos’ eyes, his trembling body, his ragged breaths… Nam-gyu realized he might not be the only one who had left that place with nightmares. 

Just as he started to wonder if he should approach Thanos or not, the other man acted first. He pushed himself off the couch, his movements jerky and unstable, and began shoving past people to get across the room. He didn’t seem to care that he was knocking into other club guests, ignoring their cold glares and curses when he caused them to spill their expensive drink or when he stepped on their designer shoes; it was like he was confined to his own, terrifying world as he clutched his cross locket close to his chest and darted towards the bathroom. 

Nam-gyu felt his heart sink down to his stomach, leaving a cold, empty feeling in him. There had been something in Thanos’ eyes as he ran off- something more than just fear, more than just anxiety- that left dread coursing through Nam-gyu’s veins. 

Almost unconsciously, he abandoned the drink he’d been halfway through making, dropping the glass and bottle down on the counter with a clatter. “Cover my orders,” he said to his coworker, not taking his eyes off the door that Thanos had disappeared into. Before his coworker could protest, ask questions, or even really process what he had said, Nam-gyu was speeding off himself, walking along the edge of the room to stay out of the spotlight as he followed Thanos. 

The bathrooms of the lounge were single-use, designed for the privacy of the club’s most profitable guests- so when Nam-gyu tried the handle of the only closed door along the hallway, he wasn’t surprised to find that it was locked. “Thanos,” he said, loud enough to be heard over the club music and through the door. 

No answer. 

“ Thanos ,” he said again, this time knocking.

Nothing. 

He pressed his ear against the door, trying to pick up on any sounds coming from inside- signs of him doing his business, a toilet flush, water running from the sink, something that would tell him that Thanos was okay in there, anything - but it was silent. 

When another knock went ignored and he accepted that Thanos wasn’t coming to the door, Nam-gyu thought, Fuck it - and reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring of keys. Main entrance, supply room, lounge door- his nervous fingers flipped through the jumble of keys until he finally found the one he needed, and slipped it into the lock on the bathroom door. 

When he pushed it open, Nam-gyu was both relieved and shocked by what he saw. He’d been correct in his assumption that this wasn’t just a normal trip to the restroom for Thanos (Nam-gyu was thankful that he hadn’t just walked in on Thanos with his pants down at the urinal), and although he knew that the look in Thanos’ eyes hadn’t been anything good, he hadn’t quite prepared himself for what he would be facing. 

Thanos had been hunched over the sink, but he jerked around when the door suddenly swung open behind him, his entire body flinching at the intrusion- causing dozens of small, multicoloured pills to fall from his hands and scatter across the bathroom floor.

Thanos’ face flashed with anger as his eyes followed his pills to the ground, then as he looked up at Nam-gyu. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” he demanded. “Is the door being locked not a big enough sign that someone’s fucking busy in here?”

“You didn’t answer when I knocked,” Nam-gyu said, trying to stay calm. 

“So fucking what?” Thanos snapped back. “What if I’d been pissing when you broke in? I could fucking report you-”

“I’d rather have walked in on that,” Nam-gyu replied, equally as sharp, “than to have to break in later and find you dead on the floor.”

That shut Thanos up. He straightened up slightly, his jaw set as he leaned back against the sink as his gaze pierced through Nam-gyu. He didn’t look guilty, or embarrassed, or even as angry anymore. More than anything, he just looked… tired. 

This was the first time since they’d both been released that Nam-gyu had gotten to really see Thanos up close. In the past weeks, whenever Thanos visited the club he’d stayed a distance from the bar, and whenever Nam-gyu passed by to slip a packet of something into his hand, Thanos barely looked at him. All of Nam-gyu’s observations of him had been from afar, shadowed by the dim lights of the club- never quite a clear image, never enough for him to really notice anything.

Now, everything was laid out in front of him, and Nam-gyu could finally see how much Thanos had been changed. 

The first thing he noticed was the scar on his throat: four small wounds, all in a straight line. The image of Thanos bleeding on the bathroom floor suddenly came back to him, and Nam-gyu realized that must have been where he’d been stabbed… and that if the impact had been just an inch over, the fork would have fatally pierced right through Thanos’ windpipe. It had been over a month since the fight, but the injury didn’t seem to be healing well, and Nam-gyu didn’t think that that was the only scars Thanos sustained from the games that wasn’t healing. Thanos’ signature hair had lost much of its brightness and charm, now washed out and faded to a pale purple; under the lights of the bathroom, it almost looked like his hair had gone grey. Darker and more purple than his hair were the bags under his eyes, making Nam-gyu wonder how much he had been sleeping lately… if at all. He looked like he had lost weight as well, his cheeks seeming more hollow than Nam-gyu remembered; they’d barely gotten enough food those few days they were trapped in the games, but had Thanos been feeding himself any better since getting out? 

But most of all, Thanos seemed to have lost his spark. His eyes were dark, no longer filled with the wonder and shine that Nam-gyu used to look to when the rest of the world seemed dull- the first thing he would look for whenever panic began to take over during the games. Thanos somehow looked older, as well; maybe it was the hair, or maybe the exhaustion, but all of his boyish charm was gone, taken away and replaced with fear, anger, hopelessness. The light he used to carry with him had been snuffed out, and Nam-gyu worried that it may be beyond a point of reignition.

Thanos’ tired eyes studied Nam-gyu briefly before they glided down to stare at the mess on the floor. His cross pendant hung loosely around his neck- open and empty, its contents now scattered across the bathroom tiles. “You gonna replace those for me?” Thanos said, finally breaking their silence, as he nodded towards the pills between them. Of course that’s what he cares about, Nam-gyu thought bitterly. Of fucking course that’s all he has to say.

He wasn’t denying Nam-gyu’s previous implications, his cause for concern and the reason he gave for busting open the bathroom door, but it was Thanos’ nonchalance rather than his denial about it all- as if this was just a mild inconvenience in his plan, that Nam-gyu hadn’t really stopped him, but simply postponed it- that was frustrating Nam-gyu as much as it frightened him. 

“Not if this is what you’re doing to do with them,” he said. He didn’t specify what this meant, but from the way Thanos stiffened, he knew he’d been right about the situation, and that his message had gotten across. 

Thanos lifted a hand up and ran it over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing his temples. When he brought his hand away from his face to brush his hair out of his eyes, Nam-gyu saw that he had the smallest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Since when did you become such a fucking cop,” Thanos muttered under his breath, and through his smile, his tone was miserable. “You never cared before.”

Nam-gyu’s heart cried out, a small part of him desperately wanting to explain that that was before. Before everything happened, before I… But Nam-gyu had never been good with facing those kinds of feelings within himself, let alone speaking them aloud. 

He was- he always had been- better at getting angry. Anger was an emotion he could understand, and whether it was through his words or with his fists, it was easier to let out his anger than hold it in- and Thanos’ words had touched a nerve.

“Well, maybe I got tired of you always treating me like a fucking idiot,” Nam-gyu said, shutting and locking the bathroom door behind him so that their conversation wouldn’t be overheard or interrupted. He did care for Thanos, even if he couldn’t quite understand or admit it, but he held some bitterness in his heart as well, and the dam that was restraining it had finally cracked. “I know that you’re used to having everyone do whatever you want, whenever you ask for it, but I’m done being your little pet, Thanos- I’m not fucking stupid, and I’m not going to be the one to give you drugs just to watch you go and kill yourself with them-”

Thanos finally pushed himself off the sink, squaring his shoulders as he fully faced Nam-gyu and pointed a finger directly in his face. “Don’t fucking act like that with me,” he said through gritted teeth. “ You were the one begging me for a hit back then”- Nam-gyu’s thoughts flashed back to the games, when he was on his knees pleading with Thanos for a pill to calm his nerves before that fucking death race- “so don’t you get off on acting like you’re any better than me, especially not now, when you’re shot up almost every night as well.”

Nam-gyu was taken aback, frozen as words lost him for a few seconds. He hadn’t taken anything that night- until the champagne bottle, the increased rush of the club had been enough to keep him distracted- but Thanos was right that most nights, Nam-gyu started his shifts on a high. Just to take the edge off, just enough to get through the night. It’s not that he felt any sort of guilt or embarrassment of being called out on it, but more so surprised that Thanos had even picked up on it. It must have been clear on his face, though, because Thanos’ smile grew a little. It still wasn’t a happy smile, though; not Thanos’ usual, carefree, contagious smile- but rather, when paired with the dark look in his eyes, one that sent a chill down Nam-gyu’s spine. “You think I didn’t notice?” he went on, a hint of mockery in his tone. “You’re not as hidden behind that bar as you think you are. I can see your arms, your eyes after you disappear off to the back of the club- you’re just a fucking junkie as well, so don’t even try to pull this bullshit on me.”

Nam-gyu tried to take a deep breath, clenched his hands into fists, but it didn’t do much to calm him. “You’re right- I didn’t think you’d noticed,” he pressed on, all of his built-up frustration from the weeks of being ignored and pushed to the side finally breaking out. It felt cathartic and painful and relieving and terrifying all at the same time, but he couldn’t stop the words from flowing. “I didn’t think you knew I was there at all, considering every time you’ve come in here the past few weeks you act as if you don’t even know who I am- that you only seem to realize I exist when I’m giving you your fucking fix, and even then you barely look at me-”

The side of Thanos’ fist suddenly connected with the wall, a loud thump cracking through the room and cutting off Nam-gyu’s words. “You want to know why?” Thanos snapped, taking another step forward into Nam-gyu’s space. He brought his arm up again, still curled in a fist from hitting the wall, and for a split-second Nam-gyu thought that his own face was going to be the next target. He braced himself, getting ready to raise his arms to cover his face in case Thanos threw a punch- but all he did was reach out and grab hold of the front of Nam-gyu’s shirt. “You want to know what I see when I look at you? I see it all again. I’m reminded that it was real.” 

Nam-gyu stared at Thanos in confusion. He almost asked the question of see what again? That what was real? , until he noticed that Thanos wasn’t meeting his eyes. Nam-gyu followed his gaze, down to his own body, to the fistfull of shirt that Thanos was staring at, gripping so tightly that his hand trembled and his knuckles turned white. It took him a second, but then it came to him in a heavy blow- Thanos was holding and looking at the exact spot where Nam-gyu’s number 124 had been sewn onto his green tracksuit. The same spot where Thanos’ 230 had been on his own jacket. 

“You remind me of it all,” Thanos said, this time his voice quiet, weak, but bitter. “When I look at you… I can’t forget them.”

Nam-gyu frowned, lowering his voice as he asked, “Who?”

Thanos didn’t answer. He kept his eyes intense on Nam-gyu’s chest, on the number that was no longer there; Nam-gyu was just about to repeat his question to try and break Thanos out of this trance, when the other man released him with a shove- not hard enough to knock him down, but still with the force to make Nam-gyu stumble back- far enough to put space between them.

Thanos turned from him, doubling over. Nam-gyu’s first thought was that he was going to be sick, and dejectedly wished that Thanos could have held it for a second longer to make it to the toilet- but quickly realized he was wrong. Thanos wasn’t vomiting at all- he was bending over, reaching out to pick up one of the pills from the ground, and shoving it into his mouth before Nam-gyu could even think about stopping him. Normally, the sight of Thanos putting something in his mouth that had been on a bathroom floor might have made Nam-gyu’s stomach churn, but his thoughts were overshadowed by a different worry. Despite taking a number of the pills himself during the games, Nam-gyu had never quite gotten a clear answer from Thanos regarding what exactly it was he kept in his cross; all he did know was that they were strong, they got him fucked up, and most importantly, that he didn’t think that Thanos taking a third in such a short time span was a good idea. 

The same concern didn’t seem to dawn on Thanos himself, though. Or maybe it did, Nam-gyu realized with unease, and that’s why he had done it. He straightened up, and Nam-gyu could hear the crunch of the pill breaking apart between Thanos’ teeth as he let out a breathy, nervous laugh. “They don’t even fucking work anymore, man,” he said, running his jittery hands through his hair. He tugged hard on the faded purple strands and squeezed his eyes shut as he stepped backwards to lean against the wall and sink down to the ground. “They don’t do shit…” he murmured, covering his face with his hands, bringing his thighs up against his chest and curling in on himself. “Makes it worse… can’t fucking get away…”

Nam-gyu stepped forward, in front of Thanos, and crouched down so that they were at the same level. “Thanos,” he said, trying to keep his voice firm, but with no more of his anger. This, whatever it was that Thanos was dealing with right now, it was beyond their argument, beyond Nam-gyu’s irritation. “What are you talking about- the pills? They make what worse? What are you trying to get away from?”

Thanos dug his fingers into his temples; up close, Nam-gyu could see that his nails were not only chipped of their polish, but also bitten down to the quick, leaving raw, cracked skin on Thanos’ fingertips. He was breathing heavily now, and from the way his shoulders shook, Nam-gyu thought that he had started crying… until Thanos finally lifted his head, and he was wearing a haunting smile. His pupils were blown, and Nam-gyu realized that the accumulation of the drugs were finally starting to take their effect on him. “They won’t go away,” he said.

“ Who? ” Nam-gyu asked once again.

Despite his smile, Thanos’ wide eyes shimmered with tears. “The people I killed,” he finally said, and then he began to laugh.

Of course.

There were lots of things that Nam-gyu still didn’t understand about those games- who was the sick bastard who came up with the idea of killing people for… what reason? Fun? It clearly wasn’t for money, not if they had 45 billion won lying around to give out to the last man standing. Why had Nam-gyu been chosen for the games? How had that man in the train station known who he was, and how much debt he was in when he taunted him with that game of ddakji ? Where had they been taken to, where had that nightmare been carried out without anyone knowing, and who were the ruthless soldiers behind the circle, triangle, and square masks? There were so many questions that Nam-gyu suspected he would never find the answers to, but there was one truth he’d learned right away, and that he would never forget. 

He knew that over two hundred people had died in that arena. He had watched over two hundred people die, all because they moved during Red Light, Green Light, or because their hands were shaking too badly to properly catch the gonggi stones or to balance a spinning top, or because they were too slow to run to a room for protection… but then there were the five people who’d lost their lives not just because they had failed the games, but because Thanos was the one who had caused them to. 

Thanos had begun to hum a soft tune, and Nam-gyu recognized it as Round and Round ; that fucking song was no longer a childhood memory to him, but would be stained by blood and fear for the rest of his life. “My flower,” Thanos said, his voice sing-songy, but still sombre. Nam-gyu remembered the girl, the one Thanos had been immediately attracted to upon noticing her in the line to sign their contracts- the one he had kept calling Beauty Flower in a lame attempt of flirting. Right before they had gone into the first game, Thanos had bet Nam-gyu that he could convince the girl to agree to a date with him by the end of the day; instead, all he had done was make her the first to die.

“And Gyeong-su,” Thanos continued, his eyes glazed over in their high, his fingers dancing in the air as if he were conducting an imaginary orchestra to play the song he was humming. “Poor Gyeong-su… I promised him a picture, you know? An autograph, too.” A weak laugh escaped his lips as his eyes landed on Nam-gyu again. “Pretty shitty gift I gave him instead, huh?”

“You didn’t kill them,” Nam-gyu said, although he wasn’t sure who he was kidding. Thanos might not have been the one to put the bullets in their heads, but if it hadn’t been for his actions, they might still be alive. “The girl- you didn’t know that would happen, and- and Gyeong-su, he… he had enough time to find another group.”

Thanos gave a lazy wave of his hand, brushing off Nam-gyu’s poor attempt at comfort. “I might as well have,” he said, his voice casual. “You want to know something? When I was coming here tonight, I ran into someone on the street. A girl- she was putting a poster up on the streetlamp, right outside the club. When she walked away, I saw what it was- a missing poster. You wanna guess who it was for?” He closed his hand into a fist and held it up near Nam-gyu’s mouth, like he was holding an imaginary microphone and waiting for a response. Nam-gyu didn’t respond, but the dread he felt must have shown on his face, because Thanos’ dark smile grew as he tilted the invisible microphone back towards himself and said, “That’s right! It was for Gyeong-su! Lucky, lucky Gyeong-su, having such a pretty girl looking so hard for him.” Thanos leaned forward slightly, once again tilting the imaginary microphone back towards Nam-gyu. Suddenly, there seemed to be much less amusement in his expression, as well as in his voice as he asked, “Do you think she would also tell me it wasn’t my fault?”

It all started to make sense now, Thanos’ behaviour from earlier- the look of anxiety and fear he’d had on his face while sitting in the lounge, his hands and legs trembling nervously, the way he’d reacted to the bottle popping. Maybe he’d been able to hold himself together these past few weeks with enough ignorance, enough drugs to temporarily forget what he’d done, to go out into the world as if everything was normal… until he couldn’t. Seeing Gyeong-su’s face again must have finally broken something within Thanos, the reality of what he’d done and the nightmares must have finally caught up with him, and he’d run to the bathroom with his cross in his hand, thinking of the only way he could really escape it all. 

Thanos’ hand fell back down to his side, his arm limp, and he let out a shaky breath. “I don’t even know why I did it- why I decided to leave him behind,” he said softly. “I… I don’t know why I pushed those people, either.”

Nam-gyu hadn’t seen it happen, during Red light, Green light . He’d only seen the aftermath, trying his best to keep the rest of his body still as his eyes had glanced over to the sound of screaming- there, he had seen Thanos, standing with his arms outstretched and a doped smile on his face. He had seen three people on the ground in front of him, staring up at Thanos with fear and confusion. Nam-gyu had only watched the first man be killed; he’d quickly shut his eyes as pleading screams rang through the air, followed by two more gunshots, and then silence. When the doll started singing again and Nam-gyu opened his eyes, the sight of Thanos playfully skipping over their bodies had made his blood run cold. Nam-gyu might have been able to come up with some sort of justification for the girl and Gyeong-su, but the others… 

“When we got out, I thought it would all be over,” Thanos went on, and he sounded breathless. “I thought I could take the money and just”-he brought his other hand, closed into a fist, up to his temple, then made an explosion gesture, spreading his fingers apart as his head tilted in the opposite direction- “ poof, forget what I did to get it. Wouldn’t that be nice?” He then let out a long, dramatic sigh, knocking his head back against the bathroom wall. “Too happy of an ending for what I deserve, turns out,” he went on. “I couldn’t get away from them. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw their faces. Every night, I heard their screams.” 

Thanos reached to his chest and took hold of his empty cross, his long, slim fingers closing tightly around the metal pendant. “I didn’t even pay off my debts- not that the prize was enough to pay them all off, anyways. I blew most of the money on getting something stronger. Taking it was the only way I could forget- the only break I got from thinking about it all. But now…” He let out another laugh, and it sounded heart-wrenchingly broken. “Shit’s making me go fucking crazy, man,” he said in English. “Now I even see them when I’m high. Isn’t that funny, Nam-su? The pills made me kill them- now the pills are making me see them. Isn’t that funny?”  

His words were interrupted by soft, intoxicated giggles- but Nam-gyu didn’t find this, any of it, funny in the slightest. He was watching Thanos suffer, slowly losing his mind to the trauma, the guilt, the drugs. He thought about all the times he’d watched Thanos come into the club over the past few weeks with a smile on his face, and wondered how much of it had been an act. He wondered just how many of those nights ended with Thanos back at home, alone, in a state not unlike what he was in now, taking the very drugs Nam-gyu had given him as a means of trying to forget. He wondered, with a stroke of fear, if tonight hadn’t been Thanos’ first attempt at trying to end the suffering since they’d gotten out. 

Thanos’ eyes were moving erratically now around the bathroom- to the dim lights overhead, to the wall over Nam-gyu’s shoulder, to the pill-covered floor, almost as if his eyes were following something invisible around the room. He lifted his head up off the tiled wall, leaning a little closer to Nam-gyu- close enough that Nam-gyu could feel Thanos’ breath against his throat. “They’re here now, too,” he whispered, and the tears finally began to stream down his cheeks as Nam-gyu realized what he was seeing. “I can’t get away from it- no matter what I do, no matter what I take, what I do, they’re always here.” 

His eyes finally met Nam-gyu’s gaze, and it seemed like for a moment, Thanos had come back down to Earth. “Maybe I killed you, too,” he said, his eyebrows knitting together, almost in confusion. “Are you even real? Or have you been haunting me as well, Nam-su?”

Every new revelation of Thanos’ confession felt like another knife to Nam-gyu’s heart, but for some reason, this one had especially hurt. The hopelessness in the way he’d asked, have you been haunting me as well? The desperation in his eyes as he looked at Nam-gyu, waiting for an answer, and the fear on his face at the expectation that the answer might be yes.

He didn’t bother to correct Thanos on his name anymore. Keeping his movements slow, Nam-gyu reached out, wrapping both of his hands around Thanos’- the one he was using to clutch his cross. Thanos continued to stare, and didn’t resist as Nam-gyu gently uncurled his fingers from around the cross, allowing the empty locket to fall back into place around Thanos’ neck, swaying on the long chain it was attached to. With Thanos’ hand- slender, cold, trembling - in his, Nam-gyu carefully moved his arms to press the other man’s palm flat against his chest, with enough force so that Thanos could hopefully feel the quick, very much alive, beating of Nam-gyu’s heart. 

“I’m real,” Nam-gyu said, putting as much conviction into the two words as he could. “I’m alive. I’m here.”

With his hand still against Nam-gyu’s chest, Thanos leaned back against the wall again, tilting his head back up to look at the ceiling as he let out a deep, but undeniably relieved sigh. Tears shone in his eyes and down his face, but he didn’t weep. It was like his heart was letting everything out, unable to hold it in any longer, but his mind was too far away to catch up on the signal. “Can I tell you a secret, Nam-su?” he said, sounding like it was getting a little harder for him to get his words out. He dug his fingers lightly into Nam-gyu’s chest, as though he was confirming to himself that the other man was still there- or maybe making sure that he wasn’t going anywhere. “When that man came up to me on the bridge, I thought it was my second chance. I took that business card and called that number because I thought it was a sign- a sign from the universe that maybe I did deserve to live.” Nam-gyu knew this already, having overheard Thanos tell it to Min-su back in the games. He remembered the ache he’d felt in his chest the first time he’d learned about Thanos’ attempt on his own life, but hearing it again, in Thanos’ broken, tired voice while Thanos trembled on the floor in front of him, made that pain come back to Nam-gyu tenfold. 

“But then we played that first game,” Thanos went on, “and I… well, I guess I realized that the only thing the universe was telling me was that I didn’t deserve shit after all. Once I found out what that competition was really all about, I gave in. I started taking those pills before the games, and I kept voting for one more game , because I had nothing to lose, nothing to live for- and I was just fucking tired of fighting for nothing. I thought that would finally be it for me, and you know what? It was the first time in a long time that I felt any kind of peace, at the thought that it was finally over, that I wouldn’t have to come back to this shitty life- but there goes the universe, fucking me over again and again and again , and now I’m here, worse off than I was on that damn bridge.”

Thanos finally let go of Nam-gyu’s shirt, only to reach out beside him and pick up one of the discarded pills from the ground. Nam-gyu- who could still feel the pressure of Thanos’ fingers against his chest like a ghost lingering on his skin- prepared himself to grab the pill or slap it out of Thanos’ hand if he were to try and take it, but Thanos only held it up in front of his face, looking at the small red capsule with a mix of desire, anger, and hopelessness in his stoned eyes, and let out tired breath of a laugh. “What was that thing you said?” he asked. “Back when we were playing the games? ‘Those who seek life will die, blah blah blah, those who crave death will live…’” He rolled the pill between his fingers, then glanced past it to meet Nam-gyu’s eyes, a cold smile stretching across his lips. “I guess you were right about that one. Fucking Thanos- can’t even kill himself properly.”

Nam-gyu had never seen Thanos, or anyone, like this before. ‘Fear’ was a gross understatement for the worry in his eyes, ‘ guilt’ didn’t even come close to describing the pain twisting his face, ‘sadness’ didn’t fully encompass the darkness surrounding him, slowly and tortuously suffocating him. 

He seemed so… broken. And Nam-gyu didn’t know if he could be put back together again. 

But, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t try to at least pick up the pieces. 

Nam-gyu’s knees were beginning to ache from the time spent in a crouch, but he pushed away the pain to move a step closer and place his hands on Thanos’ shoulders. Though he tried to be gentle, the other man still flinched at Nam-gyu’s touch.

“I’m not going to pretend, or try to convince you that you didn’t do those things in the games,” Nam-gyu said, keeping his voice steady despite all of his own worries. “But, I can tell you this: you did save me.” Thanos finally looked away from the pill he was holding, and when their eyes met, Nam-gyu could see that some confusion was now mixed in with the despair on his face. It was small, but it was a start, and Nam-gyu could only hope that his words would be enough to break through the darkness within Thanos.

“Those games were every man for himself,” Nam-gyu said. “You had no reason, no responsibility to save anybody’s life but your own. But throughout it all, you saved mine. Before the second game, you gave me a pill because I needed a hit- you said it yourself. And maybe you’ll tell me that you only did it because if my fucking shaky hands made us lose, then we’d all die, but still- that saved me. And the third game- every round, you grabbed me. You pulled me into those rooms every time, and when you did, you saved me over and over again. And maybe you’ll try to tell me again that you only did it to save yourself, but you could have chosen anyone to make up your group- and each time, you reached for me before anyone else. The truth is- I might not be here right now if it wasn’t for you.”

Thanos stared at him blankly, as though he was hearing Nam-gyu’s words but not quite understanding them. Nam-gyu wondered if it was because of the drugs, his mind fucked up on three doses, or if he truly couldn’t comprehend that he was being told he’d done something good, that someone was thanking him, that he’d… helped someone.

Nam-gyu began to softly run his hands along Thanos’ shoulders, his fingers stretching out and pressing gently against Thanos’ back, his thumbs brushing Thanos’ collarbones through his shirt. Physical touch was something that Nam-gyu instinctively sought after when he was stressed, scared, or even just bored; it was only something he’d realized about himself recently, and he couldn’t quite explain the reasoning behind, but reaching out and taking hold of someone else always seemed to bring him some comfort. He only hoped that maybe, right now, his touch could do the same for Thanos. 

He took in a breath, and continued speaking before Thanos could even try to argue his points. “And when… when shit started to get bad in there,” he said, “ you were the one I always found myself looking to, going to, reaching for, and… and it wasn’t just for the drugs, Thanos. There’s something about you, man- something that kept me sane in here. If it wasn’t for you, I… I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been in there alone.”

Nam-gyu had felt a lot of fear during the games, but just as distressing as the fear was the anger, too. A type of anger that had boiled inside him, a type of anger different than what he considered ‘normal’ for him, a type of anger that scared him, a little, when he didn’t quite know where it had come from, when it had come so quickly and so aggressively. But that same anger had always seemed to cool down when Thanos’ voice would ring through his ears, telling him to stop. He didn’t want to think about what all that anger might have accumulated into had Thanos not been at his side. 

It truly felt like, in more ways than one, Thanos had saved his life in that place. 

The faintest of smiles tugged at Nam-gyu’s lips, a smile whose appearance surprised him, but one that he couldn’t fight back as strange feelings rose in his chest. He’d started this speech just as a way to try and pull Thanos out of his spiral of paranoia and guilt, but along the way it had turned into somewhat of a confession- a confession he hadn’t planned, or even really knew was hiding in his heart in the first place, but the words tumbled out anyways. He wondered if he’d be letting himself say all of this if Thanos wasn’t high out of his mind and dangling off a dangerous ledge… maybe not. At least, not right now. Maybe one day, when both of them were better, when they didn’t need to shoot up just to get through the day, when the nightmares weren’t too bad… when Nam-gyu understood his own feelings better and when Thanos’ own heart had healed, maybe then he’d tell Thanos everything again. 

He gave Thanos’ shoulders a firm squeeze, grounding both of them here, to this moment, with each other. “I owe you my life, Thanos,” he said, his gaze set on the wide, fearful eyes before him. “Let me help you save yours.”

Thanos stared at him for a long moment, his eyes unblinking. Nam-gyu didn’t know if his words had reached Thanos- whether they’d reached his mind or his heart or wherever they needed to go to get through to him, whether he’d helped Thanos at all. The silence was making him start to think that maybe Thanos was so far gone that he hadn’t heard him at all, that he’d been checked out this entire conversation, that Nam-gyu had just laid his heart out to a brick wall… when Thanos suddenly slumped forward, leaned his head against Nam-gyu’s shoulder, and let out a soft sigh as some of the tension eased from his body. Nam-gyu was sure he hadn’t completely resolved Thanos of his guilt, his nightmares- but if he had been able to take enough weight off his shoulders to keep him above water, then at least it was a start.

Nam-gyu remained still as Thanos did, willing to let his friend use him as a pillar for however long he needed. He’d hold Thanos up, right now on the floor of this bathroom, and any other time he started to fall- Nam-gyu made a silent promise that he would be there.

Thanos deserved to live, and Nam-gyu wasn’t going to let him think otherwise anymore.

When Thanos’ breathing finally started to even out, slowing down from the ragged, frightened, close to hyperventilating breaths he’d been struggling through during the peak of his panic, he seemed to find his voice again. “Don’t call me that,” he muttered. “Stupid fucking name.”

He was quiet, so much so that Nam-gyu almost didn’t hear him, but the words still stunned him into silence for a moment. Thanos had turned into something more than just a stage name, when he’d started to go by it even in his personal life when he wasn’t on stage or in front of a camera. Thanos was the character he’d started to play when he had first dyed his hair purple and started painting his nails to gain attention and stand out as an up-and-coming rapper, but that always stuck once he’d gotten famous for it. Over time, he’d just… permanently become Thanos , the lines between character and actor having been blurred. 

At least, so Nam-gyu thought, until now- until he realized that it wasn’t Thanos sitting in front of him. Nam-gyu hesitated, then spoke up again, keeping his voice low. “Su-bong?”

The other man tensed slightly in his arms, taking in a shaking breath before lifting his head up… and Choi Su-bong looked at Nam-gyu. Not Thanos, not the character he put on for the media, not the mask he hid behind- but the real man beneath it all. The man who had been suffering in secret, whose cries for help had been silent and gone unnoticed- the man who had been alone for too long. 

Su-bong’s eyes were still red and his eyelids low, as though he was struggling to keep them open, but he stared intently at Nam-gyu, studying him. “Maybe… maybe meeting that man on the bridge wasn’t my divine intervention after all,” he said, his speech slow and his words choppy, telling Nam-gyu that he was still miles high. “Maybe it was this, instead.”

Nam-gyu’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “You mean getting out of that place?” he asked. “The games?”

Su-bong’s hand found its way back to Nam-gyu’s shirt, pressed against his chest just over his heart. “Finding my way back to you,” he said. 

Nam-gyu hoped that Su-bong wouldn’t be able to feel the way his heartbeat quickened, or notice how his cheeks might have turned pink as they grew warm. Nam-gyu knew that this was just intoxicated rambling from Su-bong, a jumble of words that weren’t necessarily the truth, but… that didn’t stop the rush of electricity through him, starting from Su-bong’s fingertips and coursing through his body.

“I thought you couldn’t stand the sight of me,” Nam-gyu said, trying to keep his own voice steady. 

Su-bong let out a sigh that almost, maybe, sounded like a weak attempt at a laugh, and shook his head. “Not you ,” he said, his voice sounding tired. “All this time, I… I couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t. I don’t remember everything from… from in there, and when I saw you, I-I didn’t know if you were really there or just another one of my fucking ghosts, reminding me of that place, and what I did. It was driving me crazy, but now… now I know. You aren’t here to haunt me, you…” He clutched Nam-gyu’s shirt even tighter, and Nam-gyu could hear the relief in his voice as his reality became a little more clear. 

“I can help you,” Nam-gyu said. “If you’ll let me.”

Su-bong blinked at him, slowly, a few times as he processed Nam-gyu’s words- his promise, before leaning forward and once again resting his head against Nam-gyu’s shoulder, his hair tickling against Nam-gyu’s neck. “I just want it all to stop,” Su-bong said, his words muffled against Nam-gyu’s shirt. “I want… I need to forget everything. I can’t live with it anymore.” 

Nam-gyu finally moved from his crouched position, joining Su-bong in fully sitting on the floor. He stretched his legs out on either side of Su-bong, making it easier for him to wrap his arms fully around the other man and hold him close. “I know,” he said, a careful hand tracing up Su-bong’s back. “It’s hard for me, too.” He hesitated for a moment, but then found the words spilling out from him before he could convince himself otherwise. “I’ve been having nightmares,” he said, admitting his own struggles to someone else for the very first time. “I dream that I’m back in there. During the day, too, I… I get these flashbacks. Even though we got out, sometimes I feel like I never really escaped.”

He was first met with silence, and Nam-gyu started to wish that he hadn’t said anything, until Su-bong’s voice eventually came again, “That’s why you’re always high, too?” 

Surprised by Su-bong’s observations and correct assumptions, just like he’d been earlier, Nam-gyu nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “It was the only way to stop thinking of it all. Made it all seem like… like just a bad dream instead.”

“A bad dream,” Su-bong repeated, and then went quiet. 

Nam-gyu wasn’t sure exactly how long they sat there for, holding on to each other like they were each other’s only anchor to the world. He was still worried about Su-bong having taken three doses of his pills, but with his arms wrapped around Su-bong he could feel that his breathing remained steady, unwavering, until he finally spoke up again. 

“Nam-gyu,” he said. “I think I want to leave.” His words were clear this time, not slurred, not distressed, and Nam-gyu was so relieved that Su-bong seemed to have finally made it out of this bad trip, that he almost didn’t realize that Su-bong had gotten his name right. 

“Do you want to go back to the lounge?” Nam-gyu asked. “Your friends-”

Su-bong’s quick, firm shake of his head was enough for Nam-gyu to realize what he’d meant by leaving. Though he could have sat there for the rest of the night and through until the morning, Nam-gyu slipped his arms from around Su-bong and pushed himself up onto his feet, unsteadily; his legs had fallen asleep, static coursing through them as they slowly woke up and tried keep Nam-gyu standing. Su-bong watched him get up, and when Nam-gyu extended his hand out, he stared at it for a moment before gingerly accepting. He struggled to stand, swaying as he did, and Nam-gyu had to use his other hand to hold Su-bong up until he found his footing. 

“I’m fine,” Su-bong muttered as he tried to worm his way out of Nam-gyu’s grip, until his knees buckled underneath him and his arms shot up, one of his hands grabbing hold of Nam-gyu’s bicep and the other taking Nam-gyu’s hand in a crushing grip to keep himself up. 

“You’re not,” Nam-gyu said, bracing himself to take on the other man’s weight. “Don’t shut me out.” Though he felt some frustration at Su-bong’s insistence on denying help, even after everything they had spoken about, Nam-gyu tried to keep it out of his voice. He knew that getting angry wouldn’t help anything, that letting his anger take control would be a step backwards on whatever journey he and Su-bong had started together. 

Their friendship, their relationship, whatever it was between them, was fragile enough as is. They were two broken souls, tied together by a messy, bloody, shared nightmare- both of them one thread away from snapping. Whether they really could heal from all of this, Nam-gyu didn’t know. Some days it felt like he was swimming in pure darkness, on others it felt like he was drowning it in. Some days it felt like that string holding him together was coming undone, and others it felt so strained that he just wanted to finally cut it and be free of all the pain. 

For the past month, he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to escape from the darkness. But tonight, when Su-bong looked at him, as he held Su-bong’s warm hand in his, it finally felt like some light had come through, like that thread had started to stitch up all his broken pieces.

Maybe Su-bong was right, Nam-gyu thought. Maybe finding each other again was for the best, after all.

Nam-gyu tightened his fingers around Su-bong’s in an encouraging squeeze. “We’ll go out the back way,” he said. “Come on.” 

After doing a quick check to make sure the hallway was empty, Nam-gyu led them out of the bathroom and away from the lounge. It sounded like the celebrations were still going strong as the loud music was accompanied by even louder, drunken singing. By the time Nam-gyu had brought them downstairs and out onto the street behind the club, Su-bong seemed to have mostly sobered up and was able to walk well enough on his own, but Nam-gyu stayed close.

It was early December, and though the first snowfall of the season hadn’t come yet, it was still brutally cold, especially in the dead of night. Nam-gyu was only wearing a thin, long-sleeved shirt, and without the warmth of Su-bong pressed against him, the cold spread across his body almost instantly. He pulled his sleeves down over his hands, as they were always the first part of him to freeze up. “You should get home,” he told Su-bong, who was only wearing a thin jacket over his T-shirt. “You’ll catch a cold if you stay out here for too long.” 

Su-bong gave a small nod, but stayed where he was, his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked like he had something to say, but instead of speaking up, he stared intently at Nam-gyu’s shoes. Nam-gyu had to admit he was a little worried about sending Su-bong off; he'd been able to talk him down in the bathroom, but would the memory of Nam-gyu’s words be enough to get Su-bong through the night? Was it really safe to let Su-bong leave on his own? He didn’t want to push, but he also knew that with Su-bong’s fragile state, he couldn’t be too careful. 

He was still trying to think of something to say, when Su-bong spoke up. “Can you-” he started, but quickly cut himself off, pursing his lips tightly as he ran a hand through his hair. 

Nam-gyu frowned, taking a step forward. “What?” he asked, trying to catch Su-bong’s eye, but the other man still wouldn’t look directly at him. “I can call you a cab, if you want.” At Su-bong’s continued silence, Nam-gyu dug his phone out from his back pocket, making a decision before they both froze to death out here. But just as he opened up the app to request a car, Su-bong finally found his voice, and his words. 

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Thanos had always put on an act. He was a character, one always full of light and energy, acting like a god of his own world, better than everyone else while also desperately craving their attention and approval. That was the person Nam-gyu had first met that night in the club, that night that seemed like a lifetime ago.

Nam-gyu had only ever known Thanos . But now, he was meeting Su-bong . Slowly, piece by piece, he was meeting the real man behind it all- the Su-bong who was vulnerable, the Su-bong who felt worry and fear, the Su-bong who had been buried away for too long.

The Su-bong who asking Nam-gyu to stay.

Nam-gyu cancelled his search for a cab, turning off his phone and tucking it back into his pocket. “My place is only five minutes away,” he said. “Let me just go get my things from inside.” Su-bong once again just gave a quick nod, but Nam-gyu could see the relief spreading across his face. “Don’t go anywhere,” he added as he turned back inside, quickly heading up the stairs and back into the club. 

He slipped back into the lounge and behind the bar, and even though he still had three hours left in his shift, he announced to his coworkers that he was heading out. “Emergency,” he told them as he slipped on his own jacket, patting down his pockets to check that yes, his keys and wallet were in there. The other bartenders he’d already abandoned earlier that night complained against his leaving again, but begrudgingly let him go only after he insisted that yes, it is a real emergency and agreed that yes, fine, I’ll cover one of your shifts next week in exchange. He knew his future self would regret taking on three extra night shifts when they came around, but that was a problem for his future self. His right-now self only had one thing in mind- one person , in mind, who was waiting for him downstairs. 

When Nam-gyu stepped back out into the cold, Su-bong was still standing right where he’d left him. He stood with his back against the wall of the building, a trail of smoke rising up from a light cigarette he held. Nam-gyu walked back over to him, and as Su-bong raised his hand to take another drag, Nam-gyu plucked the cigarette from between his fingers. 

Su-bong finally met his eyes, his brow pinched together. “Hey-” he snapped, trying to snatch the cigarette back, but Nam-gyu held it out of his reach. 

“I thought you were quitting,” Nam-gyu said, remembering one of the last times he’d seen Su-bong in the club before they met in the games, when he’d been loudly and proudly announcing to his friends that he was giving up smoking. “It’s not good for my voice,” Nam-gyu remembered him telling the others, before he’d begun freestyling and making everyone laugh at his poor freestyling abilities. That was back then, back when he was still carefree, when he still saw the world with light in his eyes. 

Su-bong narrowed his eyes, trying and failing to get back his cigarette one last time before giving up. “And I thought maybe you weren’t such an asshole after all,” he said. “But I guess we were both wrong.”

Nam-gyu only shrugged, bringing the cigarette up to his own lips and taking a drag from it. He didn’t smoke often- cigarettes weren’t as fun as pills and left him sober, open to the nightmares- but the bitter cut across his tongue and down his throat at least was a quick distraction from it all. 

Su-bong scoffed, his eyes set on Nam-gyu’s mouth as he blew out a puff of smoke. “Junkie,” he muttered under his breath, but Nam-gyu could see the beginning of a smile pulling at his lips. 

“Back at you,” Nam-gyu said, and wrapped an arm around Su-bong’s shoulders to begin guiding them down the street towards his apartment. After a block of walking in silence, Nam-gyu felt a cautious arm slide around his back as well, and a warm hand finding a place against his waist.

Maybe those games had broken something inside Nam-gyu and Su-bong, and maybe it was the kind of break that could never fully heal. A break so deep and so severe, so violent and so cruel, that it would leave a scar forever.

But maybe, through each other, they could still try to pick up their pieces. Maybe, though each other, they could even put some of those pieces back together again. And maybe, through each other, the scar would still be there, but be a little less painful. Maybe, through each other, they would both be able to live through it. 

Nam-gyu hadn’t known exactly what his relationship with Su-bong was going to be like when they got out, but as they walked through the cold together, using each other as a source of warmth and as a crutch to stay standing, he thought that maybe they would be alright after all.