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Summary
“Nah, nevermind.” Punctuated with a swig — nearly his final — that spills partially down his chin. Thanos wipes it clumsily with the back of his hand. “‘S pointless.”
Nam-gyu is the one who knocks their shoulders, this time. “Hey,” clicking his tongue and perhaps it’s that antsy, desiring thing that wants to hear. Wants to hear it all — wants everything, always. The flashing of bare arms and fresh scabs and even those picked-at when Thanos moves, courtesy of the jacket pooled around his waist — Nam-gyu wants that, too. “This is the last chance I’m ever gonna get to hear it. Come on.”
thanos, namgyu, and all that's made, broken, and kindled in-between.
Series
- Part 1 of thangyu fest