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Namgyu’s favorite place to complete homework was on the balcony, nestled in an armchair that had been purchased secondhand. He particularly liked the armchair because it reminded him of himself—torn and weathered down, yet remarkably given another chance at life.
The balcony was on the fifth floor of the apartment complex. Namgyu sat high enough in the atmosphere to see the sunset loom over the city, shadowing neighborhoods and strip malls and office buildings in vivid hues of pink and orange. Before he stopped taking pills and smoking, he’d never understood why people marveled over something so mundane, something that happened every night and would inevitably continue occurring in a boring, relentless cycle. Yet, after surviving the games and clearing his drug-hazed mind, he eventually understood why the sunset was so adored. To Namgyu, at least, it was a reminder of why he put himself through hell and back to reinvent his life; it proved that he had lived another day, that he wanted to live another day.
Namgyu was so preoccupied with his work that he didn’t hear the boisterous squeak of the glass sliding door opening, an indicator that Subong had joined him. He jolted in surprise when Subong affectionately ruffled his hair, setting a cup of tea on the coffee table.
Subong laughed. “Did I scare you?”
“A little,” Namgyu replied honestly, closing his laptop. His head was beginning to throb from staring at the screen too long, and he wanted to give Subong his full attention. He wasn’t around every evening anymore, not after he started his bartender job. While Namgyu didn’t mind being alone, he missed their nightly routine. Now, half the time, Subong left before dinner and slipped into their bed after midnight. Yet, the promise of their rent being paid was rather nice.
“Sorry, baby,” Subong said, standing near the edge and resting his elbows on the glass pane, staring down into the abyss below. Namgyu used to believe Subong was fearless; during the games, the notion that he could possibly die only exhilarated him. Once they got out, though, Namgyu quickly learned that it was the drugs that made Subong valorous, that he was just as insecure and afraid as everybody else. “I made you tea, though.”
Namgyu gasped. “Tea?”
Subong laughed again, and Namgyu loved seeing him so happy. “Yeah, tea. Fuck, I’m enabling your tea addiction. You’re like a grandpa, Namgyu, I swear.”
Namgyu casually gave him the middle finger. “You think it’s cute.”
“No, I fucking don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Fine, yes, I do.”
He compared Namgyu to an elderly man because he began drinking herbal tea before bed every night, wearing round-rimmed glasses, collecting oversized sweaters, and going to sleep earlier. Namgyu frequented the library and read literary fiction about messy people living messy lives to remind himself that it was okay not to have everything figured out. Namgyu preferred his new lifestyle, and he knew Subong preferred it too. Namgyu would rather be tucked in bed by ten with a book than snorting coke in a stranger’s garage.
The tea was steaming. Namgyu gingerly grasped the mug and blew at it, then took a small sip. He smiled as the tea crawled down his throat and warmed his stomach. Weed had made him feel like this, too, but this was a good change. Namgyu didn’t mind being like a grandpa if it helped him live longer.
Subong stepped away from the edge of the balcony, striding over with a smirk. Namgyu knew exactly what was about to happen but still let out a grunt when Subong plopped down onto his lap.
“Hi, baby.”
“Hi,” Namgyu said softly. Then he added, “How am I supposed to drink my tea with you on my lap?”
“I dunno.” Subong took the mug from his hands and placed it back on the coffee table. He straddled Namgyu properly. That was another reason Namgyu liked this armchair; it was spacious enough to allow them to do things such as this. “You’ll just have to wait.”
Namgyu pouted, hands automatically resting on Subong’s waist. “It’ll get cold, though.”
“I’ll make you another cup, baby,” Subong promised, then leaned in to kiss him tenderly. Namgyu sighed, completely and utterly content as Subong clutched at his shoulders, and he kissed him back. Subong always tasted like mint gum because that was what he chewed to reduce his drug cravings. He was on the journey of quitting too, but his was far more strenuous than Namgyu’s.
They kissed and kissed and kissed, and eventually Subong moved onto his collarbone, pulling the fabric of his sweater down so he could effectively leave a mark there. Namgyu’s face warmed and he moaned softly. Heat rushed down his body and between his legs, and he yanked Subong closer. Subong smirked against his skin, and he went on to kiss and nibble at his neck. Namgyu was noisy because Subong liked when he was, and it felt too damn good to suppress each and every desperate moan that passed his lips.
Subong leaned back to remove Namgyu’s glasses, placing them down beside the mug. By now, the tea was certainly lukewarm, and the sun was almost finished setting. Namgyu expected Subong to resume kissing him, but he merely sat there and stared at his face, not even attempting to conceal his gaze.
“What?” Namgyu asked, confused and impatient and undeniably horny. “The fuck are you looking at?”
“You,” Subong answered simply, cupping his face.
Namgyu blushed deeply, and he was thankful for the minimal sunlight. While his own complexion was obscured, dim light from their apartment illuminated through the glass door and enkindled Subong’s face, setting his purple hair aflame. Subong was smiling, Namgyu realized, and it was because of him.
“I’m still getting used to your hair,” Subong finally said, running his hand through the strands so gently that Namgyu could cry. “It’s weird now that it’s shorter.”
“Why? Because you can’t easily pull it when you fuck me?” Namgyu asked bluntly.
Subong burst out laughing. “The fuck, Namgyu? No! I mean, I could still pull it, I guess, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”
He frowned. “Do you not like it or something? I needed a change. My hair was always fucking disgusting when it was long because I was too fucked up to take care of it, and now that I’m better, I—”
Subong quickly shut him up. “No, no. That’s not what I meant. You look beautiful. You know I think you’re beautiful.” He paused, as if he was searching for the right words. “The short hair, it makes you look younger. That’s all.”
Namgyu couldn’t help but laugh at that. “That’s funny, because I feel so goddamn old. I’m only twenty-nine, but sometimes I feel fifty. Sometimes I feel like I wasted my life away, with the drugs and the drinking. With the games.” Sometimes, Namgyu couldn’t fathom how they’d gotten out of there. That enough people voted no to another round and they were simply drugged and thrown out of the facility. That he woke up groggy and hungover, sitting on a sidewalk bench beside Subong. Once a month or so, Namgyu had nightmares about it. In his dreams, Subong died, or he died, or they both died, and he awoke sweating and gasping for air. He was terrified it would haunt him for the rest of his life. The memories could deplete him entirely.
Subong looked at him—he really looked at him—then slipped off his lap. Namgyu wanted to yank him right back, because the weight of his body and the press of his lips was the distraction he hopelessly needed.
“Let’s go inside, Namgyu,” said Subong. “It’s dark.”
“Okay,” he whispered, grabbing his things. He took a sip of tea; it was cold and unpleasant going down. He followed Subong inside the apartment and closed the sliding door behind them, ignoring the irritating squeak.
Their apartment consisted of one bedroom, one bathroom, and a singular space that combined the kitchen and living room. It was tiny, but it was theirs. Namgyu placed his laptop on the kitchen table. He put the mug in the sink. He wasn’t in the mood to have sex anymore, but he didn’t want to leave Subong hanging.
“Are we gonna fuck or not?”
Subong gave him that same indiscernible look. “Do you wanna?”
He almost said yes. For some reason, he felt guilty. Ever since sobering up, he had to persistently remind himself that sex wasn’t an apology, that he didn’t have to run his body to the ground because he felt bad. And although Subong came off strong sometimes, he’d never force Namgyu to do anything he didn’t want to. He wasn’t going to be angry if he said no. Sometimes that was hard to remember, especially when he’d had relations with guys in the past who would do anything to get their way.
So Namgyu told him no. Then he said, “I just wanna lie down.”
Subong smiled at him. “It’s 8:30.”
“So what?”
“A few years ago, you never went to bed before midnight.”
“Yeah, because I was too busy getting shitfaced. I don’t know, watching hundreds of people die really sobers you up, Subong. I think that’s why I feel so goddamn old. Every person I watched die added another year to my age.”
“Well, that’s fucked up,” Subong replied.
Anger ran rampant through Namgyu’s veins. “You piss me off! Whenever I try to have a conversation about this with you, whenever I try to be fucking vulnerable, you have nothing goddamn useful to add!”
“Yeah, because I’m fucking traumatized, Namgyu. I’m not like you. You straightened out quickly, got right back on your feet—”
Namgyu laughed at him. “Are you shitting me? I straightened out quickly? Subong, when we got back I wasn’t sober for a month straight. I refused to process what happened. I was traumatized too; I still am! Just because we have different ways of coping doesn’t mean you can undermine what I’ve been through. That’s not fucking fair.”
Subong sighed, and it was heavy enough to rattle his chest. “I’m gonna go smoke on the balcony, okay? Go lie down, I’ll join you later.” And he left, the balcony door sweeping behind him. There was a time in their lives where Subong never turned down a fight. Where he’d do anything to win; he’d scream louder, curse more, push and shove and do anything to ensure victory. That just wasn’t him anymore, especially with Namgyu. They quickly learned that two people couldn’t peacefully live together if fighting became such a prominent extracurricular.
So Namgyu showered, and the water washed off most of the numbness in his heart. For now. He pulled on a pair of boxers and put on one of Subong’s oversized T-shirts. He dragged himself into bed, melting into the mattress. Maybe Subong was right—it was kind of pathetic that he was exhausted before nine o’clock. Maybe he should see a therapist or go to the doctor about it (though it wasn’t like he could afford it, anyway).
He rolled over on his side and watched stupid videos on his phone. Ten or so minutes later, he heard the cascade of running water in the bathroom. Subong often rapped to himself in the shower, and his voice wafted underneath the door and into the bedroom. Namgyu laughed softly at him while his chest fluttered with affection. Subong was raucous and obnoxious and terribly foolish sometimes, but Namgyu loved him to death. He fell for him at the club before the games commenced, and he was still falling for him now. And despite all their fallouts and misunderstandings, he didn’t regret it one bit.
Namgyu could hear the floorboards groan and swiftly turned his phone off. He tossed it on the bedside table and pretended to be asleep. Subong padded into the room, still humming to himself.
“How the fuck are you sleeping?” he exclaimed, his voice growing nearer as he slipped into bed. “Fucking grandpa, man. You need therapy.”
Suddenly, Namgyu was snickering because he had just thought that himself. Fuck, he’d given himself away so easily. Subong huffed, grabbing Namgyu and tugging him closer.
“Should have known. You’re a sneaky bitch.”
“Did you really think I’d actually be asleep by now?” Namgyu replied dismissively against his chest.
“I mean,” Subong said, “like you said before, the deaths of hundreds of people are weighing down your heart.”
Namgyu laughed at how dumb that sounded. It had made way more sense coming from his own mouth.
“I think it’s mostly the mountains of homework. And working that clerk job with the lunatics. And having to watch out for your annoying ass.”
“Last time I checked, you love my annoying ass.” Subong pressed a kiss against his forehead, fingers splaying across the small of his back.
“Unfortunately,” Namgyu deadpanned.
A comfortable silence settled over them, and Namgyu nuzzled Subong’s neck, arms winding loosely around his torso. He could feel Subong pull him impossibly closer, intertwining their legs, melding their bodies into one.
“You know I’m trying my best, baby,” Subong finally said into Namgyu’s hair.
Namgyu’s eyes opened, confusion raising his brows. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about earlier. I know I don’t always know what the right thing to say is, or how to help you, but I really am trying my best. I want to be a good partner. I want to be here for you always. It’s just hard for me, because this is the first time I’ve ever really given a shit about someone, and I’m trying hard to get it right.”
Namgyu slipped away far enough to see Subong’s face. Despite the dimness of the bedroom, Namgyu discerned all the emotion etched into his features.
“Hey, I know you’re trying your best.” He placed his hand on Subong’s cheek. “And I appreciate it so fucking much. You being here with me means the world, and I don’t know what I’d do without you. I don’t even know if I’d be alive.”
“Don’t say that, Namgyu.”
He shrugged casually. “It’s true.” He paused. “Don’t feel obligated to say the right thing. I know I say crazy shit, especially when I’m thinking about… that.”
“Hey, at least you’re letting your emotions out somehow. I need to work on that.”
“We both have shit to work on,” Namgyu replied. “But, you know, given how our lives used to be, we must have done something right these last few years.”
Subong snorted. “Somehow.”
Namgyu nestled back into his chest. “Well, I’m going to bed.”
“Are you shitting me?” Subong asked, chuckling over the hum of the air conditioner unit.
“Emotional conversations make me tired,” Namgyu replied rather dramatically, albeit it was true. He was still getting used to them, though they were becoming easier with time. So much, he realized, was becoming easier with time.
And nothing was easier than falling asleep then, with the warmth of Subong beside him and the promise of tomorrow floating over their heads.