Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nobody on the team could believe they had pulled it off. But they were sailing away from the island successfully. The culmination of the immense dedication and efforts of hundreds of special agents and medical professionals, all working together to take down the underground murder trials. With the information And experience from Hwang Junho, they were able to stay hidden for long enough to rescue many of the players and shut down the games. 

The first few days of the raid had been quiet. The operators back on the mainland: communication specialists, strategists, field operations support officers, they were all listening in as their undercover agents spread out throughout the massive island compound. Not just detailing every room and protocol, but successfully extracting players deemed dead by the guards. Hidden in their red uniforms and their freaky masks, they had played pretend ever since intruding on the day of the mingle game. 

The team was huge, and as a result it was An incredible challenge to stay undetected in the middle of loads of real guards working for the twisted system they were investigating. As much as the manpower was important, lifting, dragging, carrying both the dead and the living— brainpower was just as important if not more. They had to think through every single move they made with great intricacy, following the strict direction of those back at base on land. It was a test of strength and willpower. It took more than anybody could imagine to stand back and let the games continue while they collected the information they needed. When it was finally time to reveal themselves during the jump rope game, the entire team was more than ready to get the hell out of there. 

Two ships left the island that night. One carrying the players, and the other carrying the now detained staff of the games. Both were packed full of agents, tending to the victims and keeping the perpetrators from struggling or fighting back. Both vessels are a sight to see. The players look past the eyes of the agents, refuse to answer questions, can’t really. They’re all traumatized, hurt, some even grieving new friends and old loved ones alike. It’s heavy, and the agents nearly cheer when the flickering lights of the mainland come into view over the water. The other ship’s staff is equally happy to reach port of course, having grown exhausted of the childish behaviour of the killers cuffed in their extensive brig floor. Brats. Murderous, senseless, remorseless brats. That’s all that could be said about them for now. 

When the ships both finally come in, they make sure to make port with some space between them. It is done deliberately so that when they are being ushered off, the guards can’t see the players and vice versa. The mainland team behind the operation is waiting at the harbour when the ships arrive. Red and blue lights flash from numerous emergency vehicles. Ambulances prepared for the injured, fire trucks, police cars. When they lower the ramp, the first priority is to tend to those who had been stabbed or shot. The undercover team had been equipped with many medical professionals and the tools they needed to save people in a tight spot, but those who were hanging on by a thread needed the paramedics, the hospital. Proper medicine. Some needed a proper OR. 

One officer in particular watches as the injured players are sent to various vehicles. Some carried, some carried on stretchers, some strapped to stretchers, some limping, and some seemingly fine aside from the haunted facial expressions. The officer rubs at her neck, sighs, and waits for things to settle so that she can begin asking questions. She looks down at her watch and sees that it has been just over an hour of loading off the injured. Some of the emergency vehicles have sped off with players inside, others have simply shut the back doors while the paramedics assess the situation. 

After the injured comes the dead. They load the unimaginable number of dead people away with a solemn and massive body removal team. A handful of funeral homes had to be contacted to utilize their removal services along with the police to get these people identified and the families notified. It was a scene out of a nightmare, the sheer amount of them. Dead away from home, across the sea, confused and terrified and having had to fight for their lives in a twisted glimpse of childhood. The officer looks at the ground until the dead are dealt with. Until they have moved onto removing the players well enough to speak to from the ship. 

There aren’t nearly as many of them. The dead far outnumber the living, and most of those who did survive are now on their way to the hospital. The officer is now left with a ragtag group of survivors, blood all over them and all of their eyes wide and horrified. Some of them are actually injured as well. The officer could only assume based on the lack of urgency, that these injuries must be of a lower priority. Sprained ankles and the like. She is quickly proved correct when she sees a young lady limp by with a purpling lower leg, swollen and painful. The officer scrunches up her face, overwhelmed with empathy for the girl as she is prompted by the paramedics to sit in an ambulance. 

Things have finally calmed down enough for conversation to begin. The officer first decides to reach out to a fellow team member she knew. One who had been present for the raid. A job she is frankly extremely grateful she hadn’t taken up. 

“How many were they able to save from the maze?” The officer asks her friend, who has a grim expression on his face. The strategists here tried to keep the entire team informed about what was going on there. Descriptions of the games and other such  important details for their work, but the officer didn’t know any more than that. The maze had sounded brutal. A giant game of deadly hide and seek tag. 

“Very few,” He responds. She nods and grips the notepad in her hand. “Most of their stab wounds were just too severe. We got to some of them in time, but the majority of the injured didn’t make it.” 

“And the jump rope game?” She prods again. Her friend looks more upbeat at this question. 

“They just barely got to start it when we finally got the go ahead to reveal the operation,” The officer says, as he itches at his beard. Then he throws a thumb over his shoulder at a disturbed looking individual sitting in the back of one of the many open ambulances. 

The person has a bob sort of hairstyle, and his face and clothes are splattered with blood. He is gripping a gleaming silver cross necklace with both hands. A paramedic is leaning into his personal space and seemingly having problems getting him to answer their check-up questions. The victim doesn’t seem to even really recognize that there is a person talking to them at all. This should be interesting then. 

“That guy was the only one to fall before we shut it all down. We moved quickly and spread out the net. Caught the guy from a pretty gruesome fuckin’ end,” The officer’s friend tells her. Both of them now looking over at the victim. “He got seriously lucky.”

“You would have just had to watch him fall if they hadn’t queued you to help?” The officer asks. Her agent friend gives her a frown. 

“We had no choice,” He admits. “If we wanted this whole thing to be a success, we couldn’t act early. We had to wait until we had men in the control rooms.”

”That meant sacrificing people?” The officer asks, gripping her notepad with a burning sensation licking up under her skin. 

“Just go talk to him while you have the chance. They’re gonna want to get these people to safe places pretty fast, here,” The agent waves her off, clearly much too exhausted to deal with any moral puzzle. She sighs and nods, heading over to the victim with the cross. 

The man stares down at the cross, digs a short fingernail into the crevices of the designs on top of it. He picks at it, frustratedly, teeth gritted, eyes wide and hair unruly. He looks a complete disaster. The officer calls over an equally important worker for this person to talk to. The prosecutor. There’ll be many of them on these cases, of course. But it’s a start.

The nearby firefighters are nice enough to set out some lawn chairs for them to sit on while they talk to this guy, who dangles his legs over the edge of the ambulance. Swinging them back and forth like he hasn’t just been rescued from a series of death games. 

“Hello Sir,” The officer greets. The man does not look up from the cross. “I’m in victim services, and I’d like to ask you a few questions.” 

The officer waits patiently for any sort of response. She does not get one. She tries again.

”This is one of the prosecutors that will likely be working on this case. She’ll be looking into what happened to you all over on that island, okay?” The officer says, gesturing to the prosecutor, who nods. The victim glances up.

”We were on an island..” The man says, in what the officer supposes is a question. It comes out more like a mumble. 

“Yes. Surely you remember you boarded a ship?” The officer prompts.

”Yeah but..” the man trails off and starts picking at the cross again. 

“Sir?” The prosecutor asks, trying to get his attention again. 

”I’m going to prison now?” The man asks, flatly. And it's then that the agent realizes he’s actually shaking. Shaking hard, like- fully trembling. Not scaredy trembles but a real health signal. 

“What? No.” The prosecutor tells him, before the officer can ask about the shaking. Probably good to address that first. “You’re not going to prison. We’re here to help you.” 

“Did you tell the paramedics what sort of pain you’re dealing with?” The officer asks, gently. It is a major part of her job to assess the immediate needs of the victim, of course. 

“Why am I not going to prison?” The victim asks. It’s a strange question. And maybe the agents that had been on-site a during the games would know why the victim is asking such a question, but the officer does not. She frowns. 

The prosecutor runs a hand through her hair. The officer scribbles down a quick note about survivor’s guilt resources. 

“Hold on, let's start over,” The officer decides. The prosecutor gives her a weird look. The victim is looking at the cross again. “Can you tell me your name?” 

“Namgyu,” Namgyu says, his hair hanging over his face, eyes squinting down at the cross. He looks angry.

”Namgyu. Great. Namgyu can you tell me-“ The officer starts. 

“Told him so many times. So many times. He got it wrong. Said it so many times his ears must have bled, I swear,” Namgyu rambles, picking at the cross with his nails again. His eyes, dark and wide, glisten with the ever growing buildup of unshed tears. He speaks entirely through his teeth, still shaking like a leaf. 

“Namgyu can you tell me if you need any pain medication at the moment? Are you in pain?” The officer asks. “We can’t help if you don’t tell us. Did you tell that paramedic what was wrong?” 

“You won’t arrest me?” Namgyu asks, still not looking up from the cross. A particularly violent tremble makes him kick. 

“We won’t and can’t arrest you,” The prosecutor confirms. “Were you given a substance? Is that why you’re worried?” 

“Nothing you were given in there is going to get you in trouble. We just want to help you, Namgyu,” The officer tries. And this reassurance seems to make some difference. 

Namgyu looks up at them, only moving his pupils and not his head, still tilted down towards the cross. He seems to think on it for a moment, still shaking.

“It’s withdrawals, yeah,” Namgyu tells them. 

“You’re sober?” The officer asks. 

Namgyu looks as though he does not appreciate that question.

“Where is Minsu? Where is that fucking worm? You need to tell me. He’s the reason I’m like this,” Namgyu spits out, dropping the cross. It swings back into his chest, knocking around a bit, the chain holding it in place right in front of the 2 in 124. The number is not only spread across his t-shirt, but also on the back and front of his sweater. All of the players had been given these numbered tracksuits. And all of them were covered in blood. Namgyu was not an exception, in fact, he may be one of the bloodiest of all. (And there were many that had multiple stab wounds, so that was saying something.)

“Hey hey, calm down. It’s nobody’s fault except the people who did this to you. We’re handling it. You’re okay now. You’re safe,” The officer tells him, reaching forward to try and see if contact would help. She intends to place a firm hand on his shoulder. He instead jerks away like she is going to shoot him. His eyes grow wide, the tears from before threaten to slip down his cheeks. He raises an arm over his face, a bracelet slides down from his wrist. She backs up and sits back down in the lawn chair. 

“You don’t get it,” He whispers, enraged. He lowers his arm. 

“I’m certain I don’t,” The officer agrees, with a short nod. The prosecutor looks between them, concerned. 

“Why don’t I grab some water for you, Namgyu?” The prosecutor suggests. “I’ll ask around and see what else might help those withdrawal symptoms.”

And she gets up and circles around to the front of the ambulance to speak to the paramedics. Leaving the officer alone. 

“So you were given a substance. Do you know what it was? Or are we misunderstanding? Were you a user before your kidnapping?” The officer asks. 

“Yes,” Namgyu tells her. 

“What would you use?” She continues, trying to be as casual about it as she can, looking down at her own notes instead of at him. Pencilling in many new ones as he begins to list. 

”Ecstasy, Ketamine, Heroine, others,” He rattles off. “I don’t know what I had in there, though.” 

The officer looks up from the notepad. He doesn't look sheepish or anything. Just angry and sad and out of it. 

“The withdrawals you’re experiencing right now are not a result of your substance use before the games then? You had an unknown substance within the confines of the games for the first time?” The officer asks, the question is extra specific just to be sure. Namgyu nods. 

”Keep up, lady, jesus,” He tells her. She shouldn’t be offended by this guy who is obviously in a bad state, but for some reason she still is. She watches as he itches up and down his arms, wrenching up the sleeves on either side of the unzipped track sweater to do so. 

“Who gave you the substance. And in what form?” The officer continues. Namgyu locks eyes with her and stares. Hard. 

“He’s gone so it doesn’t matter,” Namgyu tells her. “I won’t tell you.” 

The officer stares back. 

“Listen, I’m not trying to get anybody you love in trouble. If you happen to know one of the guards, whoever gave you this-“ 

“He wasn’t a guard! Wh- Do you know what you’re dealing with?!” Namgyu snaps, eyes wide and sparkling with angry tears. 

“Admittedly, no. We’re rushing through protocols right now trying to administer immediate care to COUNTLESS victims,” The officer explains. And she knows she shouldn’t be making excuses to the person who had just come from an overnight camp from hell— but it comes out of her mouth regardless. “Many of the people who will help you heal will never understand what you went through.” 

“You don’t need to talk to me like I’m an idiot. I’m so tired of being treated like a fucking idiot,” Namgyu drops his head into his hands, groans and gnaws his teeth together. He’s sweating so badly that it’s beading on his face and mixing with the dried blood. 

“I apologize,” The officer responds, quickly. She is throwing this whole interaction like a game of chess against her little brother. “Listen Namgyu. I’m just trying to start with figuring out if you are okay right now. In this moment. Do you need something else to deal with the withdrawals?” 

“What else could you possibly give me aside from water?!” Namgyu questions, fists clenched. The officer leans back in her lawn chair. “I don’t know what I took, so I don’t know what could help. And the only guy who knew is dead.”

“I’m thinking you should have been sent to the hospital with the injured. They should find out if something is still in your system,” The officer says. “Or they could help you with medical detox.” 

“No shit?” Namgyu mocks. 

“Do you feel like you’re almost over it or do you want me to send this ambulance to urgent care?” The officer asks. “Actually, can you tell me how long it’s been since you took a.. were they pills?” 

“I’m not going to the fucking hospital,” Namgyu tells her. The officer has a feeling that Namgyu will in fact be going to the hospital later tonight. She takes a deep breath. 

“Okay. I’ll ask one more time and then I’ll drop it, can you tell me what form the drug was in and how you got it?” The officer questions. Namgyu scoffs, his eyes still watery. 

“I- I don’t understand!” He says. “There was so much killing in there and you’re asking me about the fucking drugs? Don’t you have better shit to investigate?” 

“I’m not a detective, Namgyu. I’m here to help you specifically. I’m here to make a plan to assist you through recovery,” The officer says. 

“Are you saying if I don’t chill the fuck out you’re gonna put ‘psych ward’ in that plan?” Namgyu asks her. The officer almost laughs. 

“That’s not- no. No,” The officer shakes her head. “You are dealing with withdrawal sickness, you’re in shock, there are going to be long lasting effects of this experience. I’m here to determine what the best path is for you. Whether that’s a specific type of therapy or- whatever else you may need. Do you understand?” 

“And the prosecutor?” Namgyu asks. 

“They’ll be working on the case against the people who kidnapped you. She was not here to gain information to detain you,” The officer says. Namgyu’s shoulders seem to settle just a little bit. “I don’t know why you’d think that.” 

“That’s why you shouldn’t be asking me questions,” Namgyu tells her. “Until you know what the hell we just came from, you can’t know what I need.” 

“I’m not- I’m not arguing with you. That’s not what I’m here to do,” The officer says, taken aback. 

“I’m hearing a lot about what you’re here to do, and no sign of you actually doing it,” Namgyu says, kicking again with a shiver. A lot more sass than the officer usually deals with in these post-trauma interviews. “When do you give me clean clothes and- a fucking- I don’t know a fucking baby wipe? I’m covered in dead people.” 

“We’re.. right now resources are scarce, there are a lot of you,” The officer explains. She tried to ignore the fact that Namgyu is absolutely right. That he is practically shining with the blood plastered all over him. 

“Clearly. She ran off to get water a goddamn year ago now,” Namgyu points out. And the officer opens her mouth to respond, and does not find a convenient answer for that. 

“I- I’m sure she’ll be back very soon. And I assure you this whole thing will be over soon as well. Further questions about the experience will have to be asked at a later date. Our main concern is to make sure you are currently well,” The officer says. 

“Okay I’m fucking well! Let me go home and shower,” Namgyu says, shaking again. 

“They caught you with a net. Did you feel anything hurt with that fall? Anything you think may have been twisted or sprained? Any head pain?” 

“No. The fall didn’t hurt,” Namgyu says, sharply.

”And the impact that threw you off the bridge? You’re sure your ankles aren’t hurt? No bruising on your side?” The officer questions. 

“No.” Namgyu says, even sharper. The officer is certain that he’s lying, but it’s not as though she has a truth serum to administer. And it’s more than likely that he will be a lot more willing to accept help even as soon as the morning. Right now, literally fresh off the boat, he must be simply too overwhelmed. 

“Alright. Alright then.” The officer flips a page of her notebook. “Can you tell me how you’re feeling? What kind of emotions you might be dealing with at the moment?” 

“Are you fucking for real?” Namgyu asks her, a bitter expression on his blood-sprinkled face. “I’m not talking feelings.” 

“Just a one word answer is fine, Namgyu. Sad? Angry, maybe? You seem angry.” 

“I am angry. Of course I’m fucking angry. I did all of it for nothing,” Namgyu says. “I stayed for him and he died.”

”Stayed for who?” The officer asks. ”Christ?” 

Namgyu looks at her, with the most appalled look on his face. His eyes squinted with disbelief, his mouth open and jaw pulled back, almost with disgust. He scoffs, laughs a little. 

“What?” He asks.

“Well you seem so attached to your necklace. I thought maybe you pulled through this traumatizing experience for your love of Jesus,” The officer says, and as Namgyu continues to stare at her, almost like he wants to hurt her, she keeps talking. “I realize that must have been the wrong assumption.”

”Uh, yeah. Yeah. The wrong fucking- Are you serious? What kind of- ugh.” Namgyu looks back down at his necklace. ”No it’s. It belonged to a guy I knew.” 

The officer leans forward at the softer tone.

”This person was a friend?” The officer asks.

”Mm,” Namgyu confirms.

”Another player or someone from the outside?” The officer tilts her head.

”Both,” Namgyu responds. The officer nods, scribbling a plethora of information into her notes.

”So there were some of you that were accompanied into these games by people you knew from real life? You weren’t all strangers?” The officer asks.

”I’m not the best example,” Namgyu says. “There was a mom and son in there. Crazy shit. Pregnant girl too.” 

“Pregnant.. my goodness..” The officer says, as she continues to write. 

“And, I apologize for this next question— but, this person. The guy who gave you the cross. Did you see him die?” The officer asks.

”Yes. I saw fucking everybody die. Everyone is dead. We killed each other or got killed by the guards.” Namgyu tells her. There is a stunned silence for a moment or two, and suddenly, the prosecutor comes jogging around the corner. Her suit tie billows in the wind. 

“Here. So sorry for the wait. Somebody over there has a fucking baby,” The prosecutor says, wiping sweat from her forehead. She hands a water bottle to Namgyu. Namgyu snatches it and does not say thank you. 

“Why were you dealing with the baby? You’re a prosecutor,” Namgyu says flatly as he unscrews the bottle cap. 

“I stopped to ask a few questions,” The prosecutor says. 

“To the baby?” Namgyu snorts, raising the bottle to his lips. The prosecutor bristles. 

“If you’re feeling a little more settled with the water, I’d like to ask you a few things about your attackers,” The prosecutor says, grabbing Namgyu’s attention back to the point of their conversation. Namgyu doesn’t give them the go ahead. Only shivers. 

“Were you held at gunpoint anytime prior to the first game?” The prosecutor questions. Namgyu has to think for a moment. The officer lets her jaw open and close a few times at the bluntness of the question. 

“Mm no. I think they wanted it to be a secret. It was fun and weird at first,” Namgyu tells her, shockingly honest. “After that we were threatened many times. Last night I was thrown to the ground and they pointed the gun at my head.” 

“Okay, yes. And after the first game were you automatically given the opportunity to vote?” The prosecutor asks. The officer is furiously writing in her notepad. 

“… no? I think the one guy asked them to make us vote,” Namgyu says. 

“The one guy. Who’s the one guy?” The prosecutor asks. 

“456. Ask him all your questions he’ll have way fucking better answers. Guy said he won the games once already,” Namgyu tells them, suppressing a large shiver. He rubs at his arms again, and shuts his eyes tight. The prosecutor sits there for a moment with her jaw open. 

“A- alright. We’ll try with him. But can you tell me here first-“ 

“Okay. Namgyu. Thank you for answering those difficult questions. Let’s get back to your immediate care.” The officer says. 

“Wait I wasn’t-“ The prosecutor tries. The officer glares at her. Namgyu resumes his shaking and itching and picking at the cross. 

The officer proceeds to have him fill out a few different forms. She gets his full information that allows them to look him up and find if he has an emergency contact, insurance info, address. Everything they may need in order to send him to a detox team. With the state he is in currently mentally, there doesn’t seem to be many kinder options. The officer knows this man will not be happy to be sent to the hospital, but it will only be for a night. They’ll do some checks and perhaps give him Clonidine or something like that to lessen his symptoms. After that, the officer will come ask some more questions and determine if Namgyu will need to go through a more profound clinical evaluation. 

“What. What’s going on?” Namgyu asks, when they gesture for him to lay on the gurney. “What?” 

“It’ll just be a check. It’s not safe or ethical for us to send you off home without knowing what’s in your system,” The officer explains. “You’ll be much more comfortable with specialized care for tonight. And the hospital is much closer than your apartment.” 

“Are you fucking with me?!” Namgyu sits up in the gurney as the paramedics grab hold of either of his wrists, another attempting to calm him, hands out like a hiker subduing a mountain lion. “I said I’m not going to the hospital! I’m a fucking heroine addict I know how to deal with a few hours of withdrawal sickness! You LET ME GO-“ 

Namgyu’s writhing and wriggling quickly turns into hysterical kicks and swings. He tries and fails to escape from the ambulance with a team of paramedics holding him down. Whatever he believes he is capable of handling is clearly stronger than he thinks it is. Or at least, its hold on his mind and body after the high are stronger than he thinks. The officer bites her lip and sighs as the ambulance doors close over a still struggling Namgyu. She’ll see how he’s doing the next day. 

The rest of the night is spent asking similar questions to a handful of other victims. There are many workers just like her asking the same questions and making similar plans for the victims they are assigned. Since Namgyu is out of her hands for the moment, the officer makes herself helpful by aiding in the conversations with various others. She speaks to a woman by the name of Hyunju, who appears to have an impressive military history. She speaks calmly and answers the questions with great detail. She is a strong soul. It’s a palette cleanser after the less than great interaction with Namgyu. 

Hyunju is a stabbing survivor who had been pulled out by the undercover rescue team after the second to last game that was played. The hide and seek maze game. She had been stabbed in the back by a fellow player, and saved just in the nick of time by the immensely impressive medical personnel in the undercover team. She Is in recovery at the moment, in decent condition. And the officer couldn’t be more impressed with her ability to answer questions and provide great first hand insight in such duress. She was already helping the legal team build up the case in massive ways, right after escaping a nightmare. Not many of the other players were ready to share their experiences this way just yet. But, to be fair, many of them were on life support. 

The officer hears a lot of different horrific recounts throughout the night, and after a short rest in a hotel, it’s time to visit Namgyu in the morning. She first stops by to speak with the hospital staff that had been helping him since the previous night. They quickly handed her a few reports and gave their personal recounts of his behaviour and his improvement. They also provided her with the results of a mental health evaluation that had been done once he was more grounded later in the night. It was. Not great. 

The conversation with his new care team lasted quite a while as they tried to find a good plan for Namgyu, and after cross referencing with other victim services officers working with players, they finally came to agreement. The next step was visiting Namgyu and informing him of his next move. 

“You did this,” Namgyu squints as she walks in. The accusation, however true, is not what she expects upon entering. 

Namgyu’s hands are strapped down to the railings of the hospital bed. Likely a precaution taken after his tantrum the night previous. An understandable tantrum, considering the circumstances. And maybe it's actually quite unprofessional to refer to it as a tantrum at all, regardless of it being in her inner monologue or not. Curiously, Namgyu does not seem to have recognized the state of his hands. Or if he has, he hasn’t made it clear. 

“My job? Yes,” the officer says with a small smile. It’s cheeky, but she thinks this guy might appreciate that sort of thing over dramatic politeness. This is proven correct when he scoffs and looks down at the hospital sheets. The shaking seems to have lessened almost to nothing. And, maybe it’s the white bright hospital lights, but the sweating seems to have mellowed as well. 

“You seem to be doing better,” The officer says. “You understand this was to help you.” 

“How am I going to pay for some fucking uppity withdrawal treatment? I’ve been losing my mind here all night,” Namgyu says, eyes steely and serious. “I can’t enjoy feeling slightly better because I’m going to be drowning In bills. You know all of us ended up there because we’re hopeless worthless brokies, right? You trying to put me on the street?” 

“You don’t need to worry about that. This case is extremely important, incredibly elaborate, with so many victims. They are determined to provide massive financial aid throughout the recovery process for all of you,” The officer says. The cross sits next to the hospital bed, on a small table. “The games existing and luring people in for this long undetected, unlinked to any of the missing persons cases they caused— it’s at the very least a massive negligence issue in policing. I’m hearing lots of talk about making this right.” 

“I don’t-“ Namgyu shakes his head, annoyed. He shakes again like last night, this time not with sickness, but with anger. “I don’t fucking care. They’ll pay for this shit?” 

He gestured to the machines around him. The officer sighs. 

“Yes. I’m trying to say it’s not just going to be a relief fund. This is huge. You are one of many people who were wronged here not only by your perpetrators but by the system that allowed it all to happen under its nose,” The officer says. 

“Stop, stop it,” Namgyu tells her. “I really don’t care.” 

“Alright. You had a bit of a fit last night. Do you remember?” The officer asks. 

“Yes I fucking remember. Keep asking these demented fucking questions,” Namgyu threatens. The officer raises a brow. Namgyu thrashes in the bed and she takes a step back, mildly shaken. Namgyu laughs shortly. 

“You think I’m kidding. You don’t know what I’ve seen. What I’ve done. In under a week. I’m not trying to be mysterious or— or- fucking- scary, or threatening. I’m being honest,” Namgyu says. And his voice has a tremor, it shivers and wavers. His wrists shake as he speaks. “It was torture like you’ll never ever know. I feel it all. Forever.” 

His eyes are wide. The officer stares, but her expression is soft. She doesn’t want to provoke him, she knows he must be feeling some complex emotions. Many likely about the way he acted in the games as well. Not just as a person forced into a game that involves killing, but as a person in that situation on drugs they’ve never done before. 

“I don’t doubt it for a second. You can believe that I’m clueless all you want, but everybody who is working to help you has been adequately informed of the conditions you were surviving in. You need help. I’m part of that. That is all. This was the right thing. You look physically healthier,” The officer tells him. Namgyu flattens his mouth into a line. 

“You shouldn’t be trying to help me. You should’ve all let me fall, actually,” Namgyu tells her. “If you’d seen me in the previous game, you wouldn’t have bothered trying to catch me.” 

The officer stops and waits for a moment. Huh? But they HAD been there the day before. Does Namgyu think the undercover crew had just arrived when jump rope began? 

“The crew was there since just after the mingle game,” The officer informs him. “They saw whatever you’re thinking would’ve stopped them from saving you. And I can guarantee you that there are many others who were playing the game the same as you were.” 

“What?” Namgyu asks, eyes shooting up to meet her. He looks like he expects a gotcha moment. She only blinks back at him. “You all were in there since then? And only stepped in three days later?” 

“I was not a part of the team dispatched to the island, but I can confirm that the undercover group arrived the evening following the mingle game,” The officer nods. Namgyu stares. He is a stark streak of pale skin and black hair against the white hospital bed. His bloody clothes are no more, and the dried splatters of days-old deaths are gone from his face. The hospital gown he wears almost makes him appear ghostly. His stare is wild and frightening. 

“You watched so many people croak. You watched us kill each other. You watched him- my friend- You watched me play god,” Namgyu mutters to himself, not breaking his gaze away from the officer. The officer sucks in air through her teeth. 

”No. We watched your kidnappers play god. You all were forced to act out their fantasy world. Don’t pretend you would have happily done the things you did in there— out here. It’s not good to let it blend into your real life this way. But you can tackle that in the future in a proper therapy group. Which leads me to-“

”Stop- stop stop stop, stop rambling to me,” Namgyu says, going so far as to cover his ears with both hands. He squints his eyes shut and brings his knees up beneath the starchy hospital sheets. “You don’t know anything.” 

“Namgyu, your care team and I have decided the best course of action is for you to be placed in a mental health clinic,” The officer says. “We found one that is well suited to you and a few of your peers who went through the same experience.” 

“What? Hold on- what?! What? You’re sending me to a fucking insane asylum? Like I said yesterday?” Namgyu questions, rhetorically, utter disbelief crawling across his face in the form of a red flush. 

“It is not an asylum, nor is it for the ‘insane.’ It’ll only be a trial period, to see how you fare. If the specialists believe that you are well enough to reenter the world after a week, they’ll most certainly discharge you,” The officer explains, stiffly. 

”A fucking week?!” Namgyu echoes. “That’s longer than I spent in the games.”

“i understand your concerns, but i assure you that-“ 

“I can’t fucking believe this. First the hospital now— I mean- you’re sending me right back into an unfamiliar place full of twin beds. You think that's gonna be helpful?” Namgyu scowls. His voice getting louder with every word. The officer can practically feel the presence of nosy nurses listening in through the door. 

But actually, it's a good point. If the psych ward has rooms that resemble the room the players were kept in, it will likely be the opposite of helpful. The officer will be sure to check in on that and make sure the living areas are warm and comfortable. The officer doesn’t get to voice any of this, because Namgyu is too busy raging.

Namgyu attempts to raise an arm up, likely to make some big gesture to emphasize his anger. Instead, the bed rattles, and he looks down with furrowed brows to see that he is strapped to the hospital bed. He loses it. 

“Are you fucking joking?!” He shouts, shaking his wrists and subsequently the entire bed. He kicks as well, beneath the sheets. “This is fucking crazy! I’m going to fucking- i swear to god when i get out of this- i-” 

The rage fit does not help his case, and the doctors end up rushing in to settle him down. He’s knocked out just as the officer backs up to the doorway. Namgyu is halfway through a threat about knifing her when his chin bumps down onto his collar bone, his whole body sliding down as consciousness escapes. The officer frowns and heads off to call about the bed situation. 

It hadn’t taken long to decide on the right clinic. There is a psych center in the nearby university hospital that multiple of the game victims will be sent to. After a bit of asking around and verifying regulations, they decide that this will be where Namgyu will need to spend at least the next week. And after some extra poking around for the added comfort of the former players, the officer is certain that the bed area will be nothing like that of the island. She had seen a couple still images from security cameras, the hundreds of metal beds stacked nearly to the ceiling, all decorated with thin ratty blankets. It had looked cold and unwelcoming at best. Blood splatters all over the floor, strange paintings on the walls, white office lighting. The psych ward will have cozy plush duvets, warm yellow lights, large windows and an outdoor area, anything a former prisoner would wish for. Namgyu will likely have the healing week of his life. It will no doubt be even more comfortable than his apartment. 

At least, the officer tells herself this. 

The time of release will depend on how Namgyu does in the facility. There will be regular check ins from the officer, as his assigned victim services provider. And hopefully in no time he will be right to move on to outpatient therapy. It seems as though the drugs were not spread across many players, only a select few. Those few will all be treated at the same location, with a team that understands the situation thoroughly enough to provide proper care. 

The officer is sure that a week in the psych center will do Namgyu a lot of good. And if he needs to stay after that, such is life. After such an extreme situation, nothing can be predicted or expected of a survivor. The unique circumstances require unique care plans and the ability to adapt. It is also possible that Namgyu will get through a couple days in the facility only for staff to determine that he is safe to reenter daily life. They will find out soon. 

Chapter Text

        The nurse wasn’t allowed to know too much. Apparently whatever hell the new patients came from was very big and very classified for the time being. Even to workers like himself who had to tend to the after effects of said classified hell. 

       It is a very busy morning in the psych center when they all arrive. Each in different emergency vehicles, with seperate care teams from the hospital, and victim services officers as well. Usually their ward takes on only a select couple dozen patients at a time. Because the number of spaces in the center is so small, and the length of the stay is often dependent on the individual, the arrival and departure of patients almost never occurs on the same day. 

       That is to say: having to check in three new patients and keep them all apart from each other is next to nightmarish. It’s a lot of running around, a lot of reorganizing, and in this specific case— a lot of catering to the needs of these peculiar patients with their mysterious background. 

      Despite not knowing the details of their kidnapping, the staff is given the knowledge that it was in fact a kidnapping of some sort. They are told the basics. They were held for a week and the conditions were not good. As such, the center has to be made to look nothing like the place they were kept. Which, if the nurse is honest, was a little strange to hear. What kind of kidnapper provides his victims with individual beds? The victim services officers were very specific about that part. Do not allow them to sleep in a room with many twin beds close together. And no bunk beds. Okay then? 

      As basic of a request that might seem, it is not easy to meet. All of the rooms in the ward could be described that way. Twin beds close together. They are warm and cozy, of course, but twin beds in close proximity nonetheless. This does not meet the standards required for these patients, so two rooms are promptly transformed. 

      The nurse had spent almost the entirety of the morning running back and forth rearranging furniture to adhere to this temporary standard. One room will house two new patients, and the other room will house only one. They don’t have many small rooms suitable for only one or two people, so they need to first move around patients that had previously been occupying them. 

       Switching patients to new rooms is always hard enough, as usually they are used to their current surroundings. Happy where they are and therefore uncomfortable with the change. Not to mention their belongings, clean bedding, cleaned out dresser, all of this is important in moving someone out and prepping a room to be lived in by someone new. And of course, you can’t forget the deep cleaning. It only becomes harder when it is on a timeline. The three patients arrive only hours apart, all on the same day, with very little notice. It might be the busiest day of the nurse’s life. 

        From what he is told during the check in process, the two who are sharing the room are not to be introduced to each other until it is necessary. The nurse is told that it’s possible they interacted negatively during their kidnapping, and they will not be happy to share the space. Because they are not sure how this meeting will go, the shared room has been split with multiple divider screens and curtains. Hopefully this visual privacy will suffice for their short stay. 

        The third patient is lucky enough to have his own private room. It is tiny, but it is absolutely nothing like the description of the room they were held in during their kidnapping. According to the victim services officers, it had been massive, cold, full of bunk beds, and windowless. This is the exact opposite. As previously stated, the room is tiny. On top of that, the walls are pink, a nice warm colour. There is only one bed, and there is a large (locked) window to let the sunlight in. The patient that gets the private room is being rewarded for his apparently less than excellent behaviour on the way from the scene to the hospital. It was said that he had more violent tendencies following the kidnapping than the other two patients being checked in. 

While it may not be immediately helpful for the violent new patient to be alone, it is only what is most safe for now for the others living in the ward. 

         The nurse had just finished reporting to the head nurse on the preparations when the first patient arrived. Flanked by ward staff and their victim services officer, the purple-haired man is led easily up to the check-in counter. The process is relatively fast given that a lot of it had been prepared In advance for him. 

         To the nurse’s surprise, there are bandages around this patient’s neck. All the way up to just beneath his ears, covering what must be multiple wounds. The patient also pointedly does not speak at all. Makes no noises whatsoever. There must have been something that happened to his throat. In a place like this, having a voice is important. The nurse hopes that this patient will be okay with communicating some other way. If not, this is going to be an interesting week. 

“Hey there,” The nurse says, once the patient is guided to him. The patient gives him an unimpressed look, and makes no effort to respond in any way. Obviously the nurse was not expecting any verbal reply, but a wave would be nice. He should be used to the coldness of new patients by now. People who come here only come here because they are struggling. And this man has fresh wounds both physically and beyond. ”I’ll be the nurse regularly checking with you during your stay.”

The nurse waits a moment, gives the patient another opportunity to make some move of communication. The patient nay stares, eyelids droopy like he couldnt care less. The nurse clears his throat and gestures to the hallway.

”Let’s go ahead and get you settled in your room, yeah?” The nurse suggests. And they start walking down the hallway, the patient at the nurse’s side. When the nurse glances to the side, it almost seems like the patient is saving face in the admittedly awkward branded pyjamas by walking with both thumbs resting in the waistband of the pants. A makeshift hands-in-pockets pose. The cool guy attempt is lost on the nurse, who only feels bad for what the patient must be going through. The nurse is sure he’ll give it up eventually, when he realizes that there is nobody to impress in here.

They reach the door of the newly organized double room, split in half by dividers and curtains. The door swings open to reveal this patient, Subong, Subong’s side of the room. it is blank and waiting for him to become situated. 

The nurse smiles at Subong, and waits for him to enter the room on his own accord. Subong looks at him and raises a brow, before pursing his lips and walking inside. He slowly looks around, taking in the minimalism. The nurse stands at the door and watches as he scans his new space. 

Subong turns to the bed and, seemingly without thinking, throws himself down onto it. Flops onto it like a kid home from a long day of playing at the park. He lays there for a moment, on what must be a much softer bed than the one of his kidnapping, and sighs. The nurse waits patiently for him to adjust and be open to hearing more of an explanation about his stay. 

After a second or two, Subong flips himself over so that he lays facing the ceiling. Then he folds his hands over his abdomen. His hands are- well. He has tattoos that seem to trail all over him. Long thick lines that might turn into something readable beneath the pyjamas, but the parts the nurse can see now only poke out on his hands and neck. His fingernails are also painted a variety of bright colours. And, of course, the purple hair. It is easy to admit that this is one of the more eccentric looks the nurse has seen in his career.  

“Can i help you with anything, Subong? There will be a sort of orientation and general discussion with some other staff and fellow patients tomorrow, but for now I’m looking to just help you get acquainted with this place,” The nurse explains, kindly. Subong looks over at him, not lifting his head to do so. Then, he raises his hands up just slightly, and mimics a paper and pen. One palm facing inward acting as the notepad, other hand holding an invisible writing tool and scribbling into the palm. The nurse nearly jumps a foot in the air.

”Of course! Let me go and grab that for you Subong! I’m not sure why you hadn’t already been provided a notepad to write on! You’ll need that to speak to us for now while you heal, yes?” The nurse says, and watches as Subong nods, eyes already having left the nurse to look back at the ceiling. 

The nurse dashes out of the room and back down the hallway towards the entry desk. He scrambles around to the inside of the desk and pushes past his coworker to dig through one of the drawers. 

“What are you doing?” Another nurse asks, peering over his shoulder into the junk drawer. The nurse grunts as he scans the piles of coloured paper clips.

”The new patient needs something to write on. He can’t talk without messing up the healing process,” The nurse explains, finally extracting a good pen and small notepad. 

“Can you give a pen to him? Maybe a marker is better? Wide tip? Then he can’t hurt himself,” The nurse’s coworker suggests, taking the pen from his hand and replacing it with a marker. The nurse nods, thankful that his coworker had thought of that. He couldn’t imagine giving his patient something to harm himself with on his first day here. The nurse rushes over to the patients room.

He walks in, hand out to offer the communication method to Subong. 

He is met with an empty room. 

“Uh- ah! Oh no!” The nurse jumps, his chest becoming uncomfortably hollow with the knowledge that he had just let this happen. He had left the door open in his hurry to get the pen and paper. The patient could be anywhere.

”Subong!” The nurse calls down the hall, his shout earning some concerned looks from both other staff members and other patients cleared for free roam. Subong was brand new here, at the very least, he didn’t know any good hiding spots yet. It shouldn’t be too hard to find him.

”Subong!” The nurse calls again, turning a corner and and peering through the window of each patient bedroom on his way. The new patient is nowhere to be seen. The nurse’s heart pounds, sweat drips down the side of his face, gleaming under white hallway lights. The coral painted walls pulsing in his vision, waving around and mocking his immediate mistake. Subong hadn’t even been inside the room for more than a minute. 

The nurse turns a corner and sees the water cooler, placed strategically at the most scenic hallway. Big floor to ceiling windows let all of the courtyard’s sunlight in, and the big trees and gardens push their greenery against the glass, flickering in the wind and livening the place up. At the water cooler, Choi Subong stands casually with a paper cup to his lips. 

“Subong! Subong,” The nurse sighs, relief coursing through him instantly. He leans over against the wall to catch his breath, then walks the rest of the steps over to the cooler. Subong takes the cup from his mouth and lifts it under the dispenser again for a refill. The cooler bubbles and groans with the additional water expelled. The nurse huffs. 

“Subong, you can’t just leave like that. You don’t know your way around here yet,” The nurse says, as gently as he can. Subong doesn’t even turn to face him, only finishes his water and proceeds to fill it again. The water cooler creaks. The nurse sighs. “I’m sorry. I know it’s difficult to be so restricted, especially after what you experienced. But this will help us help you get better. For now, we should head back to your room and get you comfortable.” 

Subong finishes his second refill and slowly crumples the cup up. He stands with it in his hand for a second, almost long enough for the nurse to actually urge him to throw it away already so they can get moving. 

But then. Subong backs up several feet down the hallway, glancing behind himself so as to not trip or bump into somebody. The hallway remains empty, and Subong remains upright, but it's nice that he checked. It’s notable, actually. Many patients here, especially those suffering after traumatic situations, lack good spatial awareness. Subong then raises both hands up above his head and hops, tossing the crumpled up paper cup into the bin from an imaginary three point line. 

It goes in, and it doesn’t hit the rim. It cleanly falls in the middle of the bin atop the rest of the wet paper. And, the nurse watches blankly as Subong does a silent cheer for himself. Both hands balled into fists pumping in front of him, and although no words come out— he mouths ’yes!’ 

The nurse can’t help it. He’s immediately charmed. He thinks Subong’s stay here will be good. The best thing anybody can do for themselves in a place like this is find joy in mundane things. 

“Follow me back to your room and I’ll get you set up with the notepad you asked for,” The nurse tells him. And, miraculously, Subong has no issue doing exactly as requested. Subong follows at a leisurely pace behind him, the nurse glances back to watch the way he carries himself. He seems laid-back, almost aggressively cool. Subong quite literally leans backwards slightly as he walks, hands once again at his waist band, the nurse squints as he watches the character come to life. The nurse wonders what kind of life this guy leads. What he must do in his spare time. What he might do for work. It’s intriguing, to say the least. 

The nurse can’t help but think that Subong may be a little old for this kind of act. Maybe just a little past that stage of life. The stage where you play up your charisma and try extra hard to make sure there are no cracks in anything. The exterior is indifferent, and the nurse knows that Subong must be more than that. He doesn’t read as someone so passive. That’s something to pry into during some of the upcoming group therapy sessions. Who knows, maybe the nurse is jumping to conclusions assuming its an act at all. Some people just have that air about them.

“Here you go,” The nurse says, with a smile, when they reach Subong’s room once more. Subong sits down on the bed and looks up questioningly, as if having forgotten his request for the notepad already. The, what looks to be genuine confusion on his face as it is handed over to him makes the nurse pause. Brain fog? Maybe? The hospital did inform them that Subong was found with trace amounts of some new street drug still in his system. It’s entirely possible that he is a consistent user dealing with some of the side effects. 

“The notepad you asked for? To communicate?” The nurse reminds him, shaking his hand with the notepad and marker in it. He feels bad instantly for doing so, wiggling it like a treat or a jingly toy in front of a cat. Subong only seems to think for a second before nodding and taking the notepad and marker from the nurse. 

“It was a good idea. Please don’t hesitate to write anything you feel you need to tell us,” The nurse says, gesturing to the notepad as Subong scans its empty pages. He flips through them as though expecting to find something inside. It waits blank for him. Subong looks back up at the nurse and nods, and then looks away and readjusts himself on the bed. He swings his legs up so that he is laying instead of sitting. 

The nurse watches as Subong brings one knee up and places the notepad against his thigh. Then, with both hands free, he removes the cap on the marker, puts the cap between his teeth, and immediately gets to writing. The nurse watches. Waits. Expecting Subong to at some point turn the notepad to face him, maybe with the previously blank pages harbouring some big questions about his stay in the ward.

Subong does not flip the notepad. In fact, he doesn’t slow down or stop writing at all. Once a page is full, he flips to the next one and continues. The nurse is more than confused. 

“Subong, was there something you wanted to tell me? Or ask me? With this new option of written communication?” The nurse prods. Subong looks up, and jolts, as if having forgotten the nurse was even in the room. The nurse raises both brows. 

Now aware that the nurse is waiting, Subong still does not finally turn the notepad over as expected, he only waves his hand dismissively. Telling the nurse to leave.  

“….Yes I can- I can leave you be. But may I ask what it is you’re using that for, if not to communicate?” The nurse pokes, one hand already placed on the doorknob, to signal to Subong that his request for privacy is not being ignored. ”If you’re comfortable sharing, that is.”

Subong does not look up at him until he has finished scribbling another phrase. Eventually, he looks up and stares at the nurse, as if considering how to explain it.

’You could write your answer?” The nurse suggests. “That’s what i thought you wanted the notepad for.”

Subong makes an understanding face, mouth open as if to say ‘Ahhhh.’ He nods and then flips to the next page of the notepad. Where he writes only two words. He then finally turns it around to face the nurse. The lined page now decorated with the diagonal shitty printing of ‘song lyrics :D’  

The nurse doesn’t have to ask any questions about Subong and the strange air he carries. Any and all suspicions about a career are wiped away when one of the newer nurses excitedly chats to everybody at the welcome desk about her favourite rapper. It’s a few hours later, and they’re waiting patiently for Subong’s roommate to arrive from the hospital. The newbie is organizing some paperwork when she sees Subong’s image on his file. The small picture of his unimpressed face in the corner of the page. The discussion exploded from there. 

“I can’t believe it! He was missing for like, at least a few days! Usually people spot him at the clubs every night! When he disappeared everybody was talking about it,” The newbie explains. The nurse eyes her with poorly concealed curiosity. Silently urging her to continue. She does. “I’m a big fan. He goes by the stage name Thanos. Recently I think he was in kind of a music slump? But there are a lot of people like me that were really looking forward to his next drop!”

The newbie frowns, looking down at Subong’s file again.

“Now I just hope he’s okay,” The newer nurse says, her eyebrows upturned with concern. “He came with that warning from the hospital about that weird kidnapping?” 

“Yes,” The nurse confirms. “I wonder if it’s classified because it involves celebrities? Maybe that's why we’re only on a need-to-know basis.”

”I don’t think the other two are celebrities, though,” The newbie responds, moving Subong’s file aside to look at the other two who should be arriving today. Minsu and Namgyu. 

“Maybe we just don’t recognize them? I didn’t know who Thanos was,” The nurse says, with a shrug. The newbie bites her lip, as if considering whether or not her response is appropriate.

“I wouldn’t really expect you to know who Thanos is,” The newbie says, with a laugh. The nurse rolls his eyes. “I keep up with this stuff, though. And I have no clue who these two are.”

They both look down at the other two files, both images staring up at them with vastly different expressions. Minsu, the one they’re expecting soon, looks frightened out of his mind. The photo had to have been taken immediately following his rescue, because he looks a disaster. His bangs are stuck to his forehead with sweat, his pupils blown up, his lips pulled back to reveal teeth in an uncomfortable grimace. He looks terrified and super high. The nurse has to admit, he does not look like the celebrity type. 

The next person, the patient who gets the private room, Namgyu— he looks angry. Angry is putting it lightly, really. He looks furious. He stares at the camera with a slight blur chasing him through the frame, as though he had refused to stand still for even a moment to get it done. The state of him also implies that the photo had been directly following rescue. His face is smeared and splattered with blood. His eyes wide open and enraged, lips tight in a threatening small frown. His long hair drifts to the left with what must be movement. Like he’s either dodging the camera or winding up to hit the cameraman. He also does not look like the celebrity type. He does, however, look like the type to get the private room. 

“I suggest you don’t call him Thanos in here,” The nurse says, lightly, to the newbie. Who immediately blushes with embarrassment. 

“Right! Right. Of course. I wouldn’t,” The newbie assures him, with several quick nods. 

“I would.. avoid bringing up the career or anything you knew about him prior at all, actually. Don’t discuss anything like that unless he brings it up himself. At least for now,” The nurse instructs. The newbie nods again. 

“And, maybe you should keep your hopes up about a new drop,” The nurse says, earning a puzzled look from his coworker. She tilts her head. The nurse clears his throat. “I brought him a notepad and marker to write down any questions he had for me. Since his throat is healing.” 

The newbie nods, listening intently. 

“He didn’t have anything to say to me. He only started writing down lyrics,” The nurse tells her. The newbie gasps.

“Really?!” She asks, excitedly. 

“Yes, but calm down. I wouldn’t bring that up to him either. It’s a great outlet that we should let him keep private,” The nurse tells her. The newbie nods again, her signature move.

“Of course! Of course! Wow..” The newbie says, turning back to her task of organizing the files. 

It’s not a half an hour later when Minsu arrives. He enters in much the same fashion as Subong did, helped by a few hospital workers and a couple policemen. His victim services officer stops to discuss his stay with some of the other nurses, and the newbie is sent to help him get settled in his room. 

Minsu does not look as crazed as he does in his photo. He no longer looks to be on any mind altering substances, but he does still harbour the frightened expression. it almost looks as though his eyebrows are permanently stapled in the upturned position. The fear on his face only accentuated by the full-body shivers he seems to have. Either from withdrawals or the fear. Or maybe both. It should be expected of someone rescued from a nearly week-long kidnapping. 

The newbie is a good match to help him calm down. She gently welcomes him and leads him away towards the second door of Subong’s room. The one on the other side of the divider. Hopefully they’ll be able to keep the two split up for the time being. The newbie has already been told to refrain from using Minsu’s name inside the room, in case Subong hears. They were told by hospital staff that it is more than likely that even these two, who were cleared to share a room, had negative interactions during their kidnapping. It is best if they are not aware that the other is staying in the same place. 

The nurse watches the newbie walk away with Minsu. Minsu almost a cartoonishly direct narrative foil to Subong. Curled in on himself like a kid with no friends in highschool, hunched and shivering with every step. The exact opposite of Subong in every way. Not a single cool bone in Minsu’s body. He is the much more common image of a person post-traumatic event. He looks a lot more like everybody else that comes to this place. Subong is a major outlier. 

The nurse doesn’t get the chance to go check and see if Minsu and Subong’s arrangement will work, because the third patient’s arrival is only minutes after Minsu’s. And it is not pretty. 

“Let me GO!” The third patient screams upon entering the ward, shaking with the effort of his attempts to rip both arms out of the hospital workers’ grip. He is held by three people at once, an unfortunate way to be guided into his home away from home, but it seems it would not have been the move if not for his behaviour. The nurse watches with concern as Namgyu makes it harder and harder for the staff with each step. Pulling and dragging them every which way, pushing against them, even trying to throw his body at one of them to escape. ”I’m not staying in a fucking insane asylum!” 

“Please watch your words. There are other patients—“ One of the hospital staff tries. They in turn get Namgyu stomping his foot down onto their own. They hiss in pain as Namgyu frowns deeply and raises his knee to do it again. 

One of the other hospital workers grabs him and tugs him away, causing him to stomp down on nothing, missing his target. He shoots a glare at the staff member responsible, and then starts another struggle for freedom. 

“Hello Namgyu,” the nurse greets. Namgyu does not stop to say hello back. He only continues to struggle. His victim services officer pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs, fed up. The nurse isn’t sure that that's an appropriate behaviour in front of the patient. 

“He’s going to be troublesome. But he has been through a lot, so please understand that this is what he needs. I’ll be back every day to meet with him and you,” The victim services officer says, setting an immediate expectation for a problem patient. The nurse gives a flat smile.

”This is what we do. If there was no trouble there would be no reason for this place to exist,” The nurse assures. 

“Shut up,” Namgyu spits, from where he is still being held by three workers. Some of the nurses from the ward hurry to take over for the other hospital staff. The police officers both have grim expressions on their faces. The nurse wonders idly if these officers have any insider knowledge about this whole classified kidnapping thing. 

“We’ll take good care of him,” The nurse says. The victim services officer only nods, before rushing up to the desk to speak to some of the other ward staff members. 

“Namgyu,” The nurse says, walking over and stopping a safe distance away from Namgyu. Just out of kicking range. The other ward nurses hold him tightly, but not unkindly. Namgyu huffs and gasps for air. The nurse imagines it's been a constant fight the whole way here. Maybe even since the rescue. ”You’re here only temporary. And it's to help you heal. I’m certain that you’ll blink and you’ll be back to normal daily life in no time.”

Namgyu stares him down, at least settling slightly in his escape efforts. If only to catch his breath. The darkness that pools under his eyes is only one of many concerning signs on him. He looks completely out of sorts. He looks like he needs a good sleep, and maybe a hug. 

“Can you just trust us for now?” The nurse requests. Namgyu’s face does not change, his eyes do not soften. He does not say yes. But he also does not kick or squirm. 

“I swear to god, if I have to pay for this-“ Namgyu starts.

His victim services officer immediately turns around from where she’s speaking at the desk. She looks angry.

”We’ve been over this! You will not have to pay for this stay, Namgyu,” The victim services officer says, as though it's the millionth time she’s said it today. 

“Sure, You say that now. And then I get a bill in my jank ass mailbox that my fucking descendants living in the year three thousand will still be fucking paying,” Namgyu says. 

“You planning to have kids, Namgyu?” The victim services officer asks. Namgyu’s jaw drops.

“Fuck you! Some fucking help you’ve been. Rude bitch,” Namgyu mutters. 

“You can’t be talking like that here,” One of the ward nurses holding him scolds. Namgyu does not answer. Only glares straight ahead. 

“That’s a conversation that can wait,” The nurse decides to move forward and attempt to take Namgyu from the other ward nurses. He gently places a hand on Namgyu’s shoulder. ”Here, can I show you to your room?” 

“Do I have a choice?” Namgyu asks, finally succeeding in ripping his arms away from the ward nurses. They let him go of course, as the nurse moves to take him down the hall. 

“Not right now. But I guarantee you there is a lot more freedom in here than you're expecting. This isn’t prison,” The nurse says.

“Probably should be,” Namgyu says, under his breath. They start the walk to the room.

”Pardon me?” The nurse asks, wondering if he heard that correctly. 

“I’ll be back to check in tomorrow, Namgyu! Don’t give these poor people such a hard time! You are here to get better!” The shitty victim services calls from the welcome desk. Then she turns and immediately returns to speaking with the rest of the staff.

The nurse looks sideways at Namgyu, still one hand firm on the patient’s shoulder. It’s entirely possible that he’ll just start bolting at any moment.

Namgyu’s enraged expression has not faded. Nor has the tension in his entire body. Like he is just ready to spring into fighting or running. Like he’s just waiting for the chance. Subconsciously, the nurse tightens his grip on Namgyu’s shoulder as they walk.

Namgyu’s hair sways back and forth, and it looks a lot nicer than it had in his file photo. His face as well, despite the pale anger, is clean. His hair appears soft, drifting by in silken strands with every small movement. It has some personality to it that almost seems laughable when compared to the hard shell of a man the nurse is seeing currently. His hair shines, obviously having been washed in the hospital. It glimmers, really, beneath the white hallway lighting. Namgyu’s livid facial expression is almost a hilarious contrast to his frankly gorgeous hair. The nurse tries not to smile. 

Success comes in small bites, as they reach the door to Namgyu’s room with not even a single attempt to run away. The nurse wonders if it had just been a whole lot of bark and zero bite. 

“Here we are,” The nurse says, and he reaches down with one hand to open the door, his other remaining on Namgyu’s shoulder. “Listen, I’m not your assigned nurse. I’m sure you’ll meet him tomorrow. But for now, if you have any questions— feel free to ask me.”  

“Just let me in already,” Namgyu says, coldly. And the nurse swings the door open and moves his hand from Namgyu’s shoulder to his upper back. Puts just a tiny amount of pressure to urge Namgyu to enter. He does. The room is very very small. The afternoon light shines in through the matching tiny window, revealing the dust in the air. Namgyu waves a hand around as if that will get rid of it, and then he turns and sits down on the bed. 

Having learned from Subong, the nurse comes in and closes the door behind him. Strangely, Namgyu looks up with a glint of fear in his eyes. Only for a second, before it transforms into anger again. But the nurse catches it. 

“You can always speak to any of the staff members. Even if they’re not your assigned nurse. We’re all here to help,” The nurse explains. “Tomorrow we’ll have a group discussion where we can talk about why you might be here.”

”The cross,” Namgyu responds, looking down at his lap. 

“Hm?” The nurse asks. And it’s sincere. He’s not sure what Namgyu just said.

’The cross. You have it. Give it to me now?” Namgyu says. 

The nurse stares down at him.

”…I’m not sure what..” The nurse tries. Namgyu’s angry expression twists into something worse.

”Yes you do you have it! Give it back! They took it from me for the transfer but they said they’d give it back! Give it to me now!” Namgyu shouts, his shoulders coming up and his fists clenching. The nurse gapes.

“I.. wasn’t informed about a.. what is it, its a..?” 

“The cross! The cross! Give me the cross!” Namgyu shouts, reaching out to grab at the nurse. The nurse jolts back just in time for Namgyu’s swipe to miss. Instead he sort of falls forward with the wasted energy. Namgyu glares up at him, truly intimidating. The nurse ducks out of the room and locks the door. 

The nurse stares at the door for a second, listening as Namgyu immediately comes up to it and starts to pound his fists against it.

“Give it back to me, it's mine! It’s mine you can’t just take that! It’s not yours!” Namgyu shouts, maddened. ”I dropped it by accident— it's still mine! I WANTED TO GO LOOK FOR IT. YOU DIDN’T LET ME!” 

What the hell is he talking about? With every sentence Namgyu’s yelling grows more broken, it starts to sound a lot more like crying.

“You have to give it back to me! You have to give him back!” Namgyu says, his fists on the door having turned into open palmed smacks. The metal does not budge, of course. Only clangs and rings with each hit. 

Give him back? 

The nurse heads back over to the welcome desk, only to find the victim services officer digging in her coat pocket. She retrieves a silver chain with a bulky and excessively decorated cross pendant on it. She purses her lips and raises it up to hang in the air in front of the nurse. The rest of the staff, obviously having heard the screaming and crying, stare blankly. They blink, wide eyed, as the victim services officer hands the cross over to the nurse. 

The nurse nods in thanks, and opens his mouth to ask what the importance of this thing is. The victim services officer doesn’t even give him the chance to ask. 

”We don’t know either. He wouldn’t answer any questions about it. We just know it belonged to someone else he was friends with in the games and he seems to care a lot about-”

The victim services officer cups a hand over her mouth and gasps.

”..games?” The nurse questions.

”I’m so sorry. That’s classified. I meant- I was referring to his kidnapping,” The officer says, attempting to brush over the slip up. Games? 

”So it belonged to his friend?” The nurse asks, for additional confirmation. The officer nods. 

“I believe that’s what he said, yes,” The officer says.

”Should we take it off the chain?” The nurse turns to ask his hire ups behind the welcome desk. The head nurse brushes a thumb against her chin thoughtfully. 

“Better safe than sorry? It’s not known if he has self-harm tendencies but we best only allow him the pendant for now,” The head nurse says. 

The nurse nods and turns to head back to Namgyu’s room, removing the large cross pendant from the chain as he walks. The continued chatter of Namgyu’s care team and the ward staff fades behind him as he walks. 

When he passes Subong’s door, he glances inside to see if he and Minsu have united their space. Subong lays on the bed and writes still, and his mouth is not moving In any way to imply a conversation happening in the room. The dividers remain in place. It seems as though they are still apart. Maybe not yet realizing they know each other. When the nurse passes Minsu’s door, Minsu sits on the bed and listens to the newbie nurses spiel. Seemingly completely unaware that Subong is on the other side of the dividers. 

Finally, the nurse reaches Namgyu’s door again. There is no more banging or slapping happening on the other side of the door, but the nurse stands there for a moment listening just in case. When the silence lasts long enough, the nurse finally enters, quickly shutting the door behind him. He is greeted with Namgyu curled up on the bed, knees to chest. His head is buried in his knees, arms curled around them, hugging himself. It’s a pose the nurse has seen a million patients take on.

The nurse opens his palm and reveals the cross, chain removed and hidden in his other hand. 

Namgyu lights up. he lifts his head instantly, then scrambles to the edge of the bed to snatch the cross out of the nurse’s hand. 

Namgyu does not say thank you. But he cradles the cross in both hands as though it is a gift from god. He brings one finger up to gently caress the encrusted detailing at the top, brushing over some mysterious dents in the artwork. His eyes grow glossy, the patches below his eyes where one would apply blush are blotching a natural pink with the suppressed tears. A single drop falls down Namgyu’s cheek and lands on the cross. Namgyu hurriedly wipes it off with the sleeve of his ward pyjamas. 

It had to have been a long several days in captivity. 

Namgyu does not look up again at the nurse, for the minute he stands there. 

The nurse gets the message and exits. 

Chapter Text

Minsu’s room in the psych ward is not anything special. But he is frankly glad to have a room at all for now. He knows that as soon as he gets out of this place he is back to square one. No money. No apartment. It has taken a while for him to remember that, though. To remember who he is and where he is. What was even going on in his life when he got picked up by that van full of gas and unconscious people. Nothing seems to matter anymore, least of all an apartment scam. Nothing matters after seeing what Minsu saw. Doing what Minsu did.

He can feel himself coming to his senses again after the rush of being extracted from the games. It is only now, with his body under the freshly cleaned warm blankets of his temporary home, that everything starts to come back to him. There are a million gaps in the last several hours of his life. He doesn’t really remember much of being in the hospital. Or much of the rescue. 

 He hadn’t even realized they had been on an island, or that he was on a boat, until they got back to mainland SK. Minsu remembers the lights of all of the emergency vehicles, and the crash of distant cargo ships already being loaded up as the middle of the night turned into early morning. The crowd of hysterical players crying and asking various healthcare workers and officers if they were truly safe. The baby screaming. The sun coming up over the water as the ambulance doors finally shut and he was taken to the hospital. 

The many hours of nighttime into morning spent being uselessly questioned/tended to at the harbour, the details of the conversations are all nearly completely gone from memory. Minsu can only hear the noise of the police officers, the echo of Semi’s pained wails, Namgyu’s begging. It all happened so fast. One moment, he felt himself turning into something different. He stabbed that shaman woman, he threw the cross onto the platform with the intent of killing Namgyu. Minsu couldn’t recognize himself. And then, he heard the insects and the howl of wind coming up over waves and through dense trees. He remembers being practically carried down a rocky pathway to the beach, then loaded onto a small lifeboat and paddled out to a much larger rescue vessel. 

It doesn’t sound real when he recounts it in his brain. It doesn’t seem real when he describes it to himself. Is it real at all? Had he fallen in the street and hit his head really hard? Was the last week of his life a cruel hallucination? Is that why he is in the psychiatric ward? 

Minsu is curled up under the covers, shivering even with adequate warmth. It is the evening of his first night in the ward. 

At the very least, it is much better than the bedroom at the games. It is warm, it is colourful, it is not TOO colourful. It’s not absurdist or creepily artsy. No freaky drawings on the walls. No hanging bodies. No towering metal bunk beds. There's no strange stairwells or twisty hallways. It’s just cozy and well-lit. 

It seems that his room is not entirely visible, however. Minsu realizes quickly after the nurse leaves, that there is another patient on the other side of a couple of large curtain dividers. He hears the subtle breathing, albeit slightly rough, of a second person in the room. It sounds as though the person has smoked their whole life, or they have a bad injury. 

One of the curtains is standard hospital white, the other is patterned with small animal drawings. Minsu takes a long twenty minutes examining all of the little creatures sewn into the curtain. And while he does so, he tries to see if there is a gap in the dividers for him to slyly peer at his roommate. There is no gap, and if he wanted to take a look, it would be incredibly obvious. Minsu doesn’t want to make his roommate angry or invade his privacy over a bit of curiosity, so he crawls back into bed and calls it a night. He is sure he will meet his roommate tomorrow. 

Minsu winces as he is unwillingly reminded of Namgyu peering over the bathroom stall, giggling and swiping at him from above. Is being a creep with no regard for your peers contagious? Minsu looks down at his palms, uncomfortably aware that he would have had no desire to look through gaps in the curtains a week ago. Will paranoia like this follow him through his whole life now? He is sure moments like this will not be contained to a stay in the psych ward. Will he scope out his whole life now as if he is being hunted? As if there are gunmen around every corner? As if even his peers are to be feared? 

At first, if he is entirely honest with himself, the pink scrubs that the nurses wear catch him a little off guard. It’s like some kind of fight or flight kicks in the moment he sees their full-body coloured getup. And then, he relaxes as soon as he sees their uncovered, kind faces. Well-meaning. He wonders if anybody else from the games has been sent to a place like this. If they are struggling similarly with any reminders of the horrible place they came from. Will he deal with moments like that when he is discharged? Will he be unable to look at someone wearing pink? Someone wearing a tracksuit? Someone wearing shapes on their clothes? Would all of that take him back? 

The evening seems to last forever. He realizes not long after trying to submit himself to sleep that he can hear something else along with the rough breathing of his roommate. He can hear some aggressive writing. The brush of some sort of marker against paper, sometimes hard enough to sort of squeal or squeak. It keeps him awake.

It must be nearly morning when his roommate finally stops writing. Minsu knows because his room has become less comfortably dark and is now fuzzy and blue with early light. His roommate thankfully only snores softly, and Minsu feels a relieved rest pull him down. 

“Good morning, Min- uh- new patient!” The nurse says, a few hours later. Minsu’s room is a charming yellow again, the pink walls only deepening the warmth of the light. And as Minsu rolls over and rubs his eyes, he sort of wonders why the nurse isn’t using his name. Maybe they are trying to keep identities private? Concealing Minsu’s name from his roommate? The second thing he considers is how lovely it is to wake up without trumpet concerto. 

“I’ll be waiting right outside your room to give you your first proper tour,” The nurse says, with a smile. 

Minsu takes a deep breath and rights himself, taking in the reality of this arrangement with the clear mind of a full sleep. He feels more sober now, more normal. He’s sure he was fine after his short stay in the hospital too, but now he felt much better. The sweating had stopped and the obscene guilt and maddening confusion that had been giving him tremors was much less prominent. His brain was now filled with the fuzzy feeling of this warm bed, his cheeks pink and hair mussed. He felt clean, too. Changed by the now two nights it had been since his stay in the games. 

Minsu wonders, as he gets up and out of bed, why his roommate hasn’t been spoken to by a nurse yet. Maybe his roommate was woken up earlier than Minsu, and is already gone from the room. Minsu can’t hear any loud noises from beyond the dividers, so he supposes maybe that's the truth. Minsu slides on his slippers and hesitantly opens his door. He is greeted by the nurse that had woken him, smiling and waving slowly. 

“Morning,” Minsu says, hesitantly. The nurse nods and gives him the same greeting. 

From there, Minsu is taken on a guided tour through the psych ward. The pink walls are not exclusive to the welcome area, he finds. The colour is consistent throughout almost the entire section of the building. Barring the entertainment room, the pink is always there. Minsu isn’t sure how he feels about it. He thinks he would feel more normal if the walls were white or grey, but he supposes the psych ward was not built and painted with survivors from a place full of bright colours in mind. He is sure every other person admitted here feels happier with the warm colours. It just feels slightly too reminiscent of the strange stairwell area that had led them to each game. Specifically the photobooth area from the start. Before they knew what they were getting into. It had seemed so joyous and whimsical. Minsu isn’t afraid to admit he had thought they might have been secretly on TV. 

Minsu finds himself sort of curled into the middle of the hallways as he walks behind the nurse, unable to lean against or touch the pink walls. He also subconsciously keeps his distance from the staff, and the other patients. It’s not that weird for him, he thinks he probably would have done the same had he come here before his experience at the games. Minsu is not the kind of person that would make friends in a place like this.

Then again.

He had thought the same thing when he wandered around that second game room, digging his shoes into the sand and preparing to be teamless and dead. The rainbow circles on the ground mocking and childish. And Semi had come and spoken to him. A friend, if only for one day. A friend he couldn’t save.

”And finally, this is the garden— Minsu?” The nurse’s voice fails to interrupt his stream of bad thoughts. He only sees Semi, Semi and her blank dead eyes staring up at the ceiling. Maybe even up at Minsu if he squints hard enough, up to where he had been peeking over the railing of the bunk bed. Watching her be attacked and killed. The nurse’s spiel completely muffled by the memory. Her screaming, Namgyu’s deranged grunts of effort as he stabbed her over and over. 

Minsu hadn’t even been brave enough to watch it all. And he hadn't been brave enough to look at her for long. In the morning, she had been gone. He hadn’t even been brave enough to watch the gunmen take her. Lay out her still body in those pink-ribboned boxes, like a gift. He felt that if he didn’t watch it happen, maybe it hadn’t happened at all. 

“Minsu?” The nurse asks again, finally close enough and loud enough that she breaks through. Minsu jolts. 

“There you are,” The nurse greets, her hands folded in front of her with poorly hidden concern. One of her thumbs rubs at the top of the opposite hand. ”Everything okay?”

”..mm,” Minsu nods. Unable to really say yes out loud. It’s not really okay, is it?

”Don’t worry. The tour will be over right after this. I’m just going to take you through the gardens quickly, and then you can have some time to yourself,” The nurse explains, gesturing to the large glass door and windows next to them that lead to a courtyard full of greenery. Minsu nods again. “After some free time, I’ll take you to one of the therapy rooms for a group meeting. You’ll meet some of the other patients and talk about how you’re feeling.” 

That doesn’t sound good at all. But Minsu nods again, eager for this conversation to be over. For the nurse’s watchful eyes to leave him. Her patronizing gaze cutting deeply into his damaged head. 

The gardens are beautiful. They are larger than he had previously thought, and the sunlight comes in from more angles than just directly above, due to the slanted rooftops. Beneath the trees, the light spots on the ground in great blotches of yellow. Gold glowing on the pavement and in the grass. Minsu doesn’t smile, but the warmth of the sun feels healing. 

The nurse tells him a few things about the plants here, and how the gardens are open whenever he wishes to be with nature. She says that it is the most popular place for patients to relax, so it is unlikely to ever be empty, unfortunately. Once she is done with her spiel, she says she will be in the entertainment room, and that she will come back to fetch him in two hours for a group meeting.

Minsu takes the time he has to sit on one of the benches and breathe. The fresh air is so lovely. He had missed it so much. This euphoria is much better than the spiral that the pills had sent him on. How Thanos or Namgyu ever found joy in those things is beyond Minsu. How much they had to do regularly for those to be enjoyable, it was hard for him to wrap his head around. When he took them, it was a nightmare. Whatever small bouts of happiness sprung from the carelessness was quickly snuffed by massive waves of horror and confusion. 

He sits on the bench, breathes, forces himself not to think of Semi. 

Instead, he finds himself thinking again of Thanos and Namgyu. Those idiots. Jumping and skipping around like children, reckless and dangerous and completely apathetic. How did the drugs do that to them? It had almost seemed to bring them together. It had stoked this demented fire within them, watered these crazy flowers. And they had slithered around each other, stayed together like magnets, putting their madness together to make something truly horrendous. Smiling, giggling, and winning. Dancing and playing and joking. At the time, it had seemed to be just the effects of the drugs doing that to them.

Minsu had thought that the drugs alone had made them like that. Clingy and cheerful and ridiculous. But, almost competent and capable. Fearless. He thinks, after having tried them himself, that it can’t have just been the drugs. It had to have been more than that. The drugs in proximity to each other. That weird friendship they had nurtured in their short time together, a fucked up little pair of crazies. Probably not the type of language that is encouraged in a place like this, but Minsu watched the two of them kill people with zero remorse. And then hang off of each other like a couple in the honeymoon phase. 

Minsu knows that he must be in his head again, because he sees Namgyu picking at his nails across the garden. Sitting on the pathway with his knees up to his chest, frowning down at his hand. Minsu blinks. Blinks again. Brings both fists up to his eyes to rub, hard. 

Namgyu remains. Minsu sighs and decides he is almost certainly in the place he needs to be. He’s lost his fucking mind. 

He looks away from ‘Namgyu’ for several minutes. Instead staring at the flowers flicking back and forth in the shallow breeze. Only so much wind can come down in the courtyard. The flowers, a bright purple, waver with an unsettling pattern, almost shivering like they’re uncomfortable. The flowers. 

Minsu stares at them for a while. Thinks he must have seen a patient with long black hair and muddled up their face in his mind. He’s sure of it. He looks up again, looks to ‘Namgyu’ who still looks like Namgyu. Minsu looks back down at the flowers. 

Minsu looks up again, and he sees that ‘Namgyu’ is sitting next to another bundle of the same purple flowers. He is not longer fiddling with his nails, but instead the petals on one of the flowers. Minsu watches with one eye, almost feeling like he can hide by looking away. His head is turned to face the plants still, but he keeps his one eye on ‘Namgyu.’ He watches as ‘Namgyu’ first gently rubs at the petals, then, with a grimace on his face, plucks a few of them off. Then, furiously rips at them, letting tiny pieces drift down to the path between his legs. 

Minsu sees a nurse approach ‘Namgyu’ and say something to him. Causing him to look up. It’s clear from the nurse’s body language that he is chastising Namgyu. He points at the flowers and then at the ripped petals on the ground. Then at Namgyu. ‘Namgyu.’ Minsu is appalled that his brain hasn't corrected itself yet. Shocked that he is still seeing this other patient as his murderous ex-teammate. The nurse scolds Namgyu for picking at the flowers, and the nurse leans down and pulls the remaining flower petals from ‘Namgyu’s’ hands. 

Minsu can’t help it. He finds his head fully turned again to face ‘Namgyu.’ He watches as the nurse attempts to calm him down as his hands fly up from the flowers to instead pull at his own hair. Violently. Namgyu’s fit is not only physical, Minsu can hear from where he’s sitting as Namgyu cusses out the nurse. Shouts about ‘it’s done it’s over it’s gone’ and some other nonsense. Minsu isn’t sure why his mind is conjuring up such a sight, but Namgyu’s pained grovelling reminds him of when he had begged Minsu just before falling in the jump rope game.

Dying just before they were rescued. Namgyu had fallen only a second before the guards suddenly turned on each other. Even the thud of his body against the ground was not heard over the gunshots and yelling. And Minsu had been taken outside, free, having just popped a pill, and killed someone. 

Minsu supposes hallucinating Namgyu in this place of healing must be his mind punishing him. Telling him what could have been. As Namgyu’s fit ends and the nurse squats down to his eye level. Comforting Namgyu with a hand on his shoulder and another hand pointing at the flowers again. No doubt explaining more kindly why they shouldn't harm the plants. 

And Minsu squints to see past the nurse as Namgyu’s angry breakdown turns into desperate tears. And Minsu watches as, funnily enough, this mocking image of Namgyu pulls the cross from the waistband of his psych ward pyjamas. THE cross. 

Minsu shakes his head angrily. He wills the images away. Slaps half heartedly at the side of his head, waiting for ‘Namgyu’ to disappear. 

Why couldn’t he see Semi here instead? That was a punishment he could at least perceive as a wish. In all honesty, Minsu doesn't want Namgyu here. He doesn’t want him to have had a chance. As much as he regrets being the one to have killed him, giving in, matching his apathy— Minsu did not want Namgyu to make it out of that place when Semi couldn’t. It would not be fair. 

But dying… the way Minsu had made him die. This was not fair either. 

Minsu looks down at the flowers again, looks past the purple ones this time, to see the yellow ones that sit in a smaller bundle behind them. Just like the painted floors of the jump rope room. The floors Namgyu must have landed on. The floors his body must have smashed apart on, strewn all over. Minsu winces, covers his mouth with his hand and gasps. He had really stooped down to their level. Became everything he hated. Became just the same as the monsters who had been playing with him the whole time. When Namgyu had pressed X, finally, if only to end his own pain— Minsu had pressed O. 

Minsu is ravaged by the flashing image in his head, of Namgyu’s face when the voting board changed to accommodate Minsu’s decision. His disturbed expression, mouth open, eyes flat and unbelieving, as Minsu left to the circle side. Minsu thinks of Namgyu’s limping, wilting figure trudging up the steps to the jump rope game, breathing hard and heavy. Like a man walking the steps to the gallows. Face pink with sickness. Minsu remembers staring at him with meaning. Staring at him with intent. Made sure Namgyu knew. Saw. Understood that Minsu had wanted to end him. 

Minsu wipes his hands down his face, now coated with a thin layer of sweat. He looks up again at where his hallucination had been. 

The nurse is gone. 

Namgyu remains.

Namgyu is looking up. Staring. Straight at Minsu. 

Their eyes meet. And any belief that this was a hallucination suddenly leaves Minsu’s body. He feels a primitive fear vibrate all through him, his hair stands up, his skin goes cold. He is frozen as he watches Namgyu place a hand on his knee, pulls himself up to his feet, and stomps towards Minsu. With as much intent as Minsu had sent his way before jump rope. 

Minsu’s whole body shakes, but he cannot move. He stays glued to the bench like an insect caught in a trap, his lips wobble with words he cannot expel, and tears well in his eyes as Namgyu grabs the collar of his pyjamas. 

“Minsu. Minsu. Minsu!” Namgyu grunts, like it’s taking everything out of him to even utter Minsu’s name. Like it's causing him actual pain. “This can’t be real.”

Minsu brings both of his hands up to Namgyu’s arm, and he attempts to pry Namgyu’s hand from his collar. Namgyu’s fingers only squeeze tighter on the fabric, tugging him upward, almost off the bench.

”Y-you’re dead,” Minsu says, weakly. 

“Are you fucking stupid?” Namgyu asks, a fury in his eyes that Minsu isn’t sure if he has ever seen before on anyone.

Minsu’s eyes bounce down to where Namgyu’s free hand is tensed up at his side. Clutched in it, is the cross. Namgyu follows his gaze.

”Oh of course. Of course you’ve got your eyes on that. You little junkie. We really transformed you didn’t we?” Namgyu smiles, twitchily. The anger stays. His jaw is clenched. Minsu tries to shake his head. “Don’t lie, Minsu. Don’t lie. You changed! You had your share, and you wanted more.” 

“You’re just like me. You’re here with me, aren’t you? You stupid fuck. You’re hopeless. Couldn’t even kill me yourself,” Namgyu growls out. His words rough with the throat of somebody who has been screaming and crying. Minsu finds the uncertainty of Namgyu’s real-ness come creeping back in. This feels like a conversation his mind would make up. 

“I did.. I did kill you,” Minsu croaks. A weak argument when someone is standing right in front of you, seemingly alive. 

“Did the drugs fucking fry your brain?” Namgyu asks, letting go of Minsu’s collar and letting him fall back against the bench. Namgyu’s fists are both clenched at his sides now, shaking with the desire to do more. “It’s pathetic. It’s fucking pathetic. You couldn’t even let me have the last one. You knew it was going to kill me. And you couldn't let me have it. Couldn’t even offer me that much. Evil fucking idiot who fucked up his own brain by taking what wasn’t his.”

”They weren’t yours either!” Minsu says, a sudden bout of bravery at being unchanged. It doesn't last for long, because Namgyu rushes forward and pins him against the bench this time. 

“You don’t know anything.” Namgyu hisses. “You don’t even know what’s going on. You don’t know where you are. Fucked yourself up that bad. Mashed your brain up into nonsense because you couldn’t handle reality.”

”You’re….” Minsu gasps. “One to talk.” 

The cross clatters to the pavement. 

And the feeling of Namgyu’s hands around his throat feels so real that it just must be. The pressure can’t be mimicked by his sober mind. There's just no way that what is happening right now isn't real. Namgyu squeezes. His fingers press into Minsu’s throat, it feels like he’s choking on something. 

“Namgyu..” Minsu says, and it comes out like a whistle. 

“You wanted to kill me. All because you liked that stupid bitch. You didn’t have any better reason. Just a girl. A fucking girl. You pathetic pervert. You fucking desperate virgin,” Namgyu slams all of the insults out one after the other while Minsu’s vision swirls. 

Minsu can’t even defend himself now. Can only sit through it and hope he doesn’t pass out and die as Namgyu continues to ramble out some far reaching assumptions about Minsu’s character. About Semi. 

“You stole my shit and you baited me with it. Used it to fucking kill me. You’re deranged. You’re fucking twisted. I bet you were real sad to be rescued. Sad you couldn’t see my fucking corpse burst all apart in little chunks on the ground.” Namgyu says, as though he hadn’t done a million worse things. As though Minsu hadn’t watched him go on a killing spree after Thanos died. “So disappointing, isn't it Minsu? That a little idiot gets to live and the only person you care about doesn’t.” 

Minsu isn’t sure what he’s referring to. His brain too foggy to wrap his head around why Namgyu would call himself a little idiot. When he realizes he is in fact talking about Minsu. Namgyu is angry that Minsu lived and Thanos didn’t. 

“If you hadn't voted X. We wouldn’t have had to talk to you in the bathroom. MG Coin wouldn’t have came in to fight your fucking battles for you. Thanos wouldn't be dead.” Namgyu chokes out, like it hurts him to say it. And Minsu knows his vision is fading, but he swears he sees tears in Namgyu’s eyes. How was Thanos and Namgyu cornering Minsu in the bathroom Minsu’s fault?! 

Suddenly, right when Minsu thinks his time has come, the nurse who had been scolding Namgyu before comes to rip him off of Minsu. 

“Namgyu! Oh my- Jesus- oh my god..” The nurse grabs both of Namgyu’s wrists, which shake with the effort to escape and go back at Minsu. Minsu, who feels at his own throat, which must be bruised. He leans back against the bench and sinks, deflates, coughs, and breathes in deeply. Another nurse comes to his side to make sure he is okay, while the male nurse from before angrily tries to make sure Namgyu can’t do anything else.

Namgyu rages, throws his arms up and scrambles forward, stopped with the nurse’s entire body. Like a wall. Both arms still held hard with the nurse’s hands. The nurse pulls Namgyu’s arms down to his sides, then, together in front of him. He holds them together like Namgyu is being cuffed, and the nurse is saying something to him, must be telling him to calm the hell down. Minsu can’t hear it because he’s too focused on the oxygen coming back to his brain. He can’t even really hear the nurse tending to him, her soft voice familiar, perhaps the same one that had been touring him. 

“The cross! Give me the-“ Namgyu yells, like he is being bathed in hot coals, like the nurse is doing something horrible to him. The nurse holding him gestures with his head for a third nurse to come and grab the metal cross from the ground. The third nurse holds it for Namgyu, and says that she will walk with them to his room and make sure it is returned to him. Namgyu squirms. 

Minsu watches as he sucks in more air, as Namgyu’s wide-eyed anger stays visible only in facial expression and body language, and no longer any movement. He only stands and trembles as the male nurse angrily talks to him and begins to drag him out of the gardens. Namgyu stiffly walks with him, angrily staring down at where his hands are still being held. 

Minsu’s breaths are shivery from the near death experience, his stress levels finally dropping after the attack. He feels the nurse examine the bruises on his neck. His vision still blinks in and out. 

Minsu is taken to a medical wing of the psych ward. The mini hospital within the hospital. Apparently there are several branches that operate in here solely for the patients of the psych ward. A separate cardiology wing exclusive to the psych patients. Minsu feels a little special as he is guided to sit on a raised check-up bed and wait for the doctor. 

The doctor informs Minsu, after a short examination, that they will be providing him with pain killers and ice packs. They will be adding a humidifier to his room to assist with the pain he may have while breathing. And he will have to do regular checkups so that they can monitor any issues he may have with breathing, swallowing or speaking post strangulation. Minsu doesn’t think it was that bad, but when they mention something about making sure there is no damage to his brain, he remembers that he was without oxygen for long enough to nearly black out. 

Naturally, after all of that, and how seriously it was being taken, Minsu assumed that Namgyu would be strategically kept away from him. That they would never be allowed to be in the same place at the same time. 

Instead, against all logic, Minsu is brought to the group meeting (a little late due to his attack and subsequent checkup) and he is greeted by Namgyu’s face in the circle of patients. Are they joking? Is this place serious?

Minsu really can’t believe his eyes. He thinks that any moment, Namgyu will be removed from the room so that Minsu can sit down and engage in the meeting. But no such precaution is taken, and Minsu is guided to sit down in a chair across the circle from Namgyu. 

Minsu finally sees the small comfort they have provided him in the form of straps around both of Namgyu’s wrists. They have strapped him down to his chair. Minsu almost laughs. His face stays blank for his own safety. 

“Welcome to the meeting Minsu,” The psychiatrist says, as the counsellor next to her nods. The psychiatrist holds a clipboard, and the counsellor sips on a mug of coffee. ”We are sorry that you had to miss the first bit of discussion, but right now we are just sharing some past experiences.”

”We had introductions for new people at the start of the meeting,” The counsellor says, a disclaimer. He glances over at Namgyu, who Minsu assumes must be the only other new person. Minsu wonders how that introduction went. “But since you missed it, why don’t you go ahead and introduce yourself to your fellow patients.”

Minsu stares, not overly enthusiastic about this prompt. But eventually he swallows and tries. 

He realizes, a second into trying to speak, that his throat actually hurts SO badly. Are these hospital workers sadists or something? Who sends a strangulation victim to a conversation-heavy group therapy session? Are they trying to kill him. Minsu licks his lips and clears his throat, and he sees Namgyu across the circle fighting down a grin. How messed up does a person have to be? He must recognize the pain on Minsu’s face.

”I’m. Minsu,” Minsu says, choppily. His two words jolted and rough. Namgyu fully smiles. He knows he’s hurt him. 

“Alright well. Welcome to the meeting, Minsu. We’re all glad to have you,” The counsellor says. 

Several of the other patients, the ones who must be more used to this stuff— they nod in agreement. And they smile. They look at Minsu with genuine kindness and understanding, as though they know how bad it feels to have to be here. 

Minsu has a feeling they have never known a hell like the one he just came from. 

The pain of having the only person who may understand be the deranged psycho with the fucked up haircut. The only person with the same experience, Namgyu. It is a pain Minsu thinks strangulation could never outdo. 

Minsu is humbled quickly. 

A girl in the group talks about her experience with an abusive ex boyfriend, who never allowed her to say no. Following her story is a younger girl who talks about the night her family was beaten to death in front of her by debt collectors. Then, an older man talks about his childhood kidnapping where he was kept in a garage for forty days. During each story, the staff members pause to ask about how that moment affected them, what they have been doing to get over that, or to move on with it. The stories last a lot longer when accompanied with the therapy-talk. And there is a constant effort from the counsellor to have the other patients contribute to the topics. They talk about how each story affects their current lives, and then what coping strategies may be most effective. After the old man, there is a prompt from the staff members for others who experienced a kidnapping to share their thoughts. 

At first, nobody speaks. 

Then Minsu sits through two more heartwrenching stories from other patients about their kidnappings. The whole way through, Namgyu only blinks and stares down, having apparently lost interest in staring at Minsu. He doesn’t bother trying to escape the wrist holds. He looks completely done, and he doesn’t look like he cares at all about any of the horrible experiences being shared. Minsu supposes he shouldn’t have expected anything else. 

Then, just before they are about to switch topics, Namgyu decides to include his and Minsu’s unique kidnapping experience to the conversation.

”I was taken to an island. Stripped and dressed in numbered clothes, referred to by number. Held at gunpoint and made to play kids games,” Namgyu rambles. 

The circle is quiet for a long moment. Like the counsellor and psychiatrist don’t know what to tackle first. The other patients seem shocked too, their saddened and surprised faces all coming to be at the same time. 

“Wh.. how do you feel that that experience has-“ The counsellor starts. But Namgyu goes on.

”And I made a friend and then everybody was killed and he died too,” Namgyu says. A string of words with barely any space between them. And he says it so monotonously, that Minsu has no problem hearing it. The bluntness from Namgyu seems to counter any threat of a flashback coming on. Minsu feels nothing. Sees nothing. He only hears Namgyu’s emotionless and ultra basic recount. 

“Namgyu. We’re so sorry to hear about that,” The counsellor says, with a great amount of true empathy. Her lips are tight and her eyes are big. Minsu guesses empathy must be required for a job like this, but only so much. 

“What can you tell us about how you’re feeling now? What parts of the experience do you feel are impacting you the most currently?” The psychiatrist asks. Namgyu is silent for a while, before he decides to stare again at Minsu.

His hard eyes are sharp across the empty circle, Minsu feels them pierce his skin. 

“I feel angry,” Namgyu says. 

“That’s understandable, certainly. Are there specific things that you feel angry about? What was done to you? The lack of control?” The psychiatrist asks for elaboration. 

“I feel angry that some people made it out, and others didn’t,” Namgyu says, with absolutely zero effort to conceal what he is trying to say. Only repeating the same things he was saying when he was attacking Minsu. 

“You wish your friend made it out? It feels unfair? This is a common feeling when we lose someone we love,” The counsellor says, nodding with understanding. 

Namgyu freezes, and his eyes shift slowly from Minsu over to the staff members. He doesn't confirm or deny. 

”No pressure to share any more, Namgyu. We’re happy that you said anything at all,” The counsellor says, with a small encouraging smile. “We’re all here to get better. Getting it out is one of the first steps. And sometimes it's a step that can be repeated forever. It is very important not to bottle it up.” 

“Is this kindergarten?” Namgyu snaps, suddenly. 

“Of course not,” The psychiatrist says, visibly taken aback. 

“I feel angry that I made all the right decisions. That I was ruthless. And other people were still worse than ME.” Namgyu says. “And that he didn’t make it.” 

Minsu thinks of Thanos, thinks of Namgyu hanging off of him, thinks of how Namgyu’s entire personality was altered after Thanos died. Thinks of how everything about him changed, down to his hair, his grooming. Minsu thinks he understands, suddenly. 

Namgyu had changed just as Minsu had. After Thanos. After Semi. They were similar that way. 

”I was bad before,” Namgyu says, honestly. “I’ve always been bad. It always felt like fighting back.” 

Minsu knows his mouth is ajar, knows he must look pretty silly. But Namgyu sounds sincere, right now. 

“I was fighting. But nothing was happening. It just got worse and worse and worse. And people I thought could never fight, fought harder.” 

Minsu knows Namgyu is talking about him, but Namgyu is no longer looking his way. He speaks directly to the staff members, maybe only being honest because he thinks it might let him crawl out of special treatment sooner. Minsu can’t imagine Namgyu’s stay ending after this week. Not after the stunt he pulled in the garden. If he thinks being honest will help him, Minsu won’t butt in. 

“It makes me so angry that I played along. When it was going to end that way anyway. It feels pointless. We were going to be rescued, and he died for no reason.” Namgyu stays, obviously talking about Thanos.

And, if Minsu is being true, Thanos’ death wasn’t just pointless in the context of the rescue. It was pointless in the context of the games too. He died in the evening in a conflict only between players. He didn't even die to the people that had captured him. The same as Semi. Pointless, and arguably worse. Long painful deaths. Not bullets to the head and the knowledge that they made it as far as they could have. 

“Again, the loss of a loved one can be hard to comprehend,” The counsellor speaks up. “We often try to find ways to explain it or make it make sense, but death can be unfair and inexplicable.” 

The psychiatrist nods. “Nobody is judging you for searching for answers that you may not find. Nobody is judging you for being angry.” 

The meeting ends, and Minsu is led out of the room seemingly a long time before the staff are wanting to take Namgyu out. Minsu still does not understand why they were allowed to be in the same therapy session, if one could even call it that. Minsu doesn’t feel very.. therapized. 

The nighttime approaches fast, and Minsu has showered and cleaned up before he knows it. The light flicks off in his room and the nurses say their final good nights. Minsu wonders what tomorrow will be like, and if he is still in danger in this place. Namgyu’s bit of honesty in the meeting did not really instill any hope for a friendship between the two of them, if anything it reestablished Namgyu’s burning hatred for Minsu. But it also let Minsu in on Namgyu’s feelings about Thanos. There seems to be some real grief there. 

Minsu sighs and tries to settle into bed, unable to really clear his mind properly for a sleep. His neck hurts, and he really wishes that he had asked for more pain meds before bed. 

Minsu hears footsteps behind the dividers of their room. He jumps, startled by the sudden noise in the dark room. What does his roommate have to shuffle around for? What is he doing? 

Suddenly, one of the curtains hanging from the dividers, the one with the animals on it, is pulled back. His roommate peeks into Minsu’s side of the room, and waves.

His roommate. With purple hair and big bandages on his neck.

Minsu gulps when he realizes it. If Minsu was shocked to see Namgyu, this is a whole other feeling. Namgyu’s going to lose his mind. The thought lasts only a moment, because the next one is spent trying to beat down the uncontrollable fear that suddenly builds up within him. Thanos, who had been severely injured in a fight that only started because of Minsu’s vote, is standing right here. Locked in the same room as him. Minsu feels his entire body freeze solid. 

Chapter Text

Housekeeping in the psychiatric ward isn’t always the nightmare the custodian’s friends seem to assume it is. Most nights, the only excitement is the overnight nursing staff walking back and forth between the rooms and the welcome desk, working diligently on their computers and checking on the sleeping patients. It is usually peaceful and quiet. Every now and again there is somebody who is struggling, and there can be subsequent issues. Yelling, crying, escape attempts, none of which are anything for the custodian to take care of. He is simply here to clean the spaces and keep the ward safe for the patients and staff alike. 

It is extremely rare that anything more than his regular duties fall on the custodian’s shoulders. Nine times out of ten, the nursing staff is extraordinarily quick to the scene of any issue. Whenever anything that needs their attention occurs, they are there. Tonight, however, right at this moment, the welcome desk is empty. The nurses are in the break room for a small chat. Normally, someone would have to be stationed within hearing distance of the patient rooms, somebody would have to stay at the desk. But this time, just this once, they all go to the break room at the same time. 

The custodian is mopping a section of the hallway, diligently. He is completely alone under the nighttime flood-lights. Tiny and white and occasionally sparking off and back on. An afterthought in the build of the hospital. He hums as he mops, his headphones slipping down his head every now and again when he looks down at the ground and scrubs at a patch of something or other. 

Suddenly, there is a shriek from one of the rooms. The custodian pulls one of the muffs of his headphones from his ear, and listens again. Following the shriek, there is a scramble of loud bangs and footsteps. All coming from the same room, the door to which is right next to the custodian. The custodian looks down the hallway, wide-eyed, waiting for a nurse to come running. Nobody comes. The shuffle from inside the room turns into loud bangs on the door. Someone pounding their fists on it desperately from the inside. 

The custodian drops his mop, the handle clatters aggressively against the floor. The custodian slips a little in the puddle of soapy water he hadn’t been done with, and he watches and listens as the door to the room jitters and jumps. 

“Help! You have to help me! You have to let me out!” The patient who must be banging on the door yells, from inside the room. This is followed by several more angry fists against the door. The custodian blankly stares, jaw hanging open and hands shaking. His arms out wide for balance on the slippy floor. Where are the nurses? They really can’t hear a thing from the break room? 

The one time nobody is at the desk? 

What if he doesn’t open the door and the patient is in serious danger? Would the custodian lose his job for opening the door? He has no idea what to do.

”You have to let me out- my- you have to-“ The patient yells, their voice breaking. And, although it's muffled through the heavy hospital door, the custodian can hear the fear. It’s so real and so pressing, that the custodian finds himself with no choice but to open the door. 

The custodian brings a vibrating hand down to one of his belt loops and shakily unclips the carabiner holding his keyring. The keys to every door in the psych ward jingle and ding against each other as he raises the ring up to his eyes to peer at the tape labels on each of them. 

He looks at the room number, and struggles to read the labels in the flickering nightlight. Where is the match? The keys rattle and clang. The pounding on the door hasn’t stopped. 

 “Please!” The patient yells again, suddenly. And it shocks the custodian so much that he physically jumps. The keyring falls to the floor, all progress lost. 

“I CAN HEAR YOU OUT THERE! PLEASE!” The patient screams. The custodian hurriedly picks up the keys and continues his scrambled attempt to find the match. 

Eventually, he finds it, and he wastes no time in shoving the key into the lock and twisting it open. The door flies forward and the patient rushes out in such a mad dash that they slam against the opposite wall of the hallway. 

The patient, a young man with an unfortunate haircut, breathes heavily and stares at the custodian for a moment, before taking off down the hallway. 

“Hey! Hey wait!” The custodian calls after him, certain that he is going to be fired. 

The custodian watches as the bowl cut takes a hard left and disappears around a corner. Running directly away from the direction of the welcome desk. The custodian turns back to the patient’s room, and jolts in shock when he sees another patient standing there in the doorway. 

The custodian’s hand flies up to his own chest, clenching at the fabric over his heart. He tries to calm his breathing, and he sees a somewhat concerned expression appear on the face of the tall purple-haired patient. 

Finally, two nurses come skidding to a halt next to the custodian. Seeing the two of them, the purple haired patient ducks backwards into the darkness of his room. 

“Did someone get out?!” One nurse asks, horrified. 

“One of the new guys!” The other nurse exclaims, pointing to the room number. The custodian weakly nods and points down the hallway in the direction that bowl cut sprinted. 

Just a room designated for the patients with questionable hair choices, huh?  

The nurses both take off, the custodian thinks he even sees a cartoonish puff of dust they leave behind as they dash down the hallway and around the corner. They’re gone and the entire ward feels silent once again. 

The custodian looks back at the room and sees that the purple-haired patient has come back into sight. He leans against the doorframe like a loitering teen. He is definitely not anywhere near his teens, but he has the body language of somebody just as careless. 

The custodian takes a couple deep breaths before attempting to speak to the purple-haired patient in the doorframe. 

“Are you.. What was going on? Is your roommate hallucinating?” The custodian asks, confused. Purple hair says nothing, only gestures to the great big bandages on his neck. Oh.

”Can’t talk for now? Okay uh.. is there any way you can tell me what your roommate was freaking out about so I can go report to the nurses?” The custodian asks. He hopes that maybe providing some info might win him his job back after effectively letting an at-risk patient out to potentially harm themself. 

Purple hair whips out a notebook from the waistband of his psych ward pyjamas. And a marker from behind his ear. He scribbles some words onto the paper and then flips the notebook around to face him. 

‘He’s scared of me’ the notepad says, in appalling printing. 

“He thought you were going to hurt him?” The custodian asks, desperate for some clarity here. Purple hair nods. Alright. Enough of the nicknames. The custodian wonders then why on earth these two were placed in the same room. If anything, a paranoid patient should have been put in a room alone so as to not be scared like this. 

“What are your names?” The custodian asks, finally leaning down to pick up his fallen mop. The purple-haired patient goes back to scribbling. 

’I’m Thanos Roommate is Minsu’ The words on the notebook say. Thanos? Interesting name..

”Thanos.. and Minsu?” The custodian repeats. The patient- Thanos- nods. 

“Do you know why he might have been scared of you just now?” The custodian questions. He can hear the distant yelling of the nurses calling for Minsu in another section of the ward. Their nervous voices echo through the halls. Thanos writes some more, this time taking a little longer. The custodian waits patiently.

’We were both rescued from the same place’ The first line of writing says. Then, on the next line: ‘He knows me’

”So you.. did you scare him at some point before you were admitted? Did you give him a reason to be afraid of you? Where were you both rescued from?” The custodian asks. Thanos only stares at him for a while, before finally writing again.

’I messed with him a lot, but it was just jokes’ Thanos flips the notebook around to show him. The custodian hums. Thanos turns the paper back to himself to write again. ‘We were in a bad spot’

”Bad enough to land you both in psychiatric care,” The custodian agrees, knowing he doesn't really harbour the correct language to converse with patients this way. Thanos shrugs and nods, seemingly unbothered by this bluntness. ”Were you going to hurt him?” 

’No i like him’ Thanos writes. He’s frowning. ‘I wasn’t gonna hurt him in the games either’

”Games?” The custodian repeats, brows furrowed down. Thanos nods, then clutches at the bandages around his neck, seemingly in pain. 

“Careful,” The custodian urges, as Thanos waves him off. 

‘We were both kidnapped and made to play games for cash’ Thanos explains. And for all the custodian knows, this could be a big old lie. He thinks actually that it is more likely to be a lie than the truth. Kidnapped into some big game show? Thanos isn’t done writing. ’If we lost the games, we died’ 

This patient is definitely lying. Or maybe he believes it himself and doesn’t know what’s really happening. Either way, what Thanos is describing did not occur. The custodian is certain. Perhaps this is a patient that is experiencing delusions. What is especially interesting about the story is that Thanos is shockingly calm about it. Usually, at least whenever the custodian saw a similar thing happening, the patients experiencing the delusions would be very scared or emotional about whatever they were seeing or believing. Thanos seems almost, indifferent. Accepting. 

“So you were both there together? Surviving these… games?” The custodian asks, not sure if it's right or helpful to play along with the delusions. He’s not a medical professional at all. Thanos nods. “I still don’t understand why your roommate would be afraid of you? If anything you’d be closer given what you went through together..?” 

Thanos sniffs, then looks down at his notepad. Then starts writing again. It takes a full minute this time, and when he turns the notepad around, the page is full of crazy writing. 

‘That’s what I'm saying! We were teammates and I was just looking out for my boy. I don’t know why he’s so upset and I don't know where—‘ There is a name here that is crossed out. When the custodian squints, he thinks it reads Namsu. It is clear that Thanos did not want him to see that, so he reads on. ‘any 1 else is and im confused’

“Anyone else? You mean there were others in the.. games with you?” The custodian asks. He wonders how intricate the delusions may be. Thanos nods vigorously. The custodian supposes Thanos could be looking for whoever this ‘Namsu’ is. Potentially a made up friend? Or a real person that used to be a part of his life?

‘100s’ He writes. Hundreds of people competing? 

“…Listen ..Thanos,” The custodian bites the inside of his cheek. “I’m sure everybody who you’re worried about is A-okay. They’re probably all in a similar place as you, figuring things out. And Minsu will be back in just a moment, and you guys can talk it out.” 

‘Minsu wont wanna talk’ Thanos writes, and beside it, he draws a little sad face. The custodian isn't sure what to do here. 

“Then maybe, you’ll have a room all to yourself and Minsu will be given a comfy private room too. That’s something to look forward to, yeah?” The custodian suggests. Thanos stares at him, his frown wobbly. 

After a second or two, Thanos sighs and turns to head back into his room. Curiously, the custodian sees him duck through some divider curtains to a hidden section of the room. Now completely out of sight. The custodian can only hope that their chat didn’t make things worse. The way the patient had looked, so authentically upset by the whole situation, shoulders down in a way that seemed against his nature. Any indifference, suddenly lost in the visible bodily disappointment. 

Suddenly, at the end of the hallway, the nurses appear, each holding one of Minsu’s arms, and walking with him in between them. 

The custodian rushes to make it seem as though he was working as normal this whole time. He lets the mop slide against the bend where the wall and floor connects. He watches sideways out of one eye as the nurses calm Minsu in hushed voices. 

“It’s going to be alright, We can move you to a new room if you’re so afraid, Minsu,” One of the nurses says. The custodian bites his lip. Minsu is sniffling and red in the face, the symptoms of a crying session. 

“We weren’t aware that the history between you two was so troublesome,” The other nurse admits. Minsu sniffles again. “We were only told that there was a chance you interacted negatively.”

”And we never expected him to peek through the barriers like that, we informed him that that was against the rules. It was not his space to invade. We’re very sorry Minsu,” The first nurse continues. Minsu still has no response. 

The custodian wonders if Thanos had been playing him for a fool the whole time. If he really had been trying to hurt Minsu before the custodian had opened the door. If he was really a manipulative man trying to get Minsu back where he wants him by appearing innocent. But.. it seemed so real? Not the story about the death games, of course, that couldn’t have been more fake, but the behaviour. The disappointment, the slight sense of shame he seemed to exhibit. 

“You don’t know enough about us to take care of us properly,” Minsu says, suddenly. “You don’t know what we’ve been through.”

So.. it is possible then that they were indeed in the same bad situation together. Perhaps truly kidnapped and taken to the same place. The custodian doubts there were any such killing games, but he supposes it could be that Minsu and Thanos were both victims of the same perpetrator. And maybe, Thanos was adding more to the story, the hundreds of other people, or.. Namsu. Those were maybe just tidbits that Thanos’ brain added in post. 

The nurses seem shocked into silence by this statement. having paused walking Minsu along. Minsu decides to keep talking. 

“Why didn’t the officers tell you anything? This isn’t fair. We’d be better off if you let us back into the real world already,” Minsu rambles. And the custodian has to assume that the police really did not provide enough information for Minsu and Thanos’ cases. If they had, the nurses wouldn't have placed the two of them in the same room, right? 

“Can I ask what you mean by ‘we?’ Minsu?” One of the nurses asks. Minsu tenses up.

”He’s… he’s not my friend. But he was stuck there just like I was. I ..voted to stay too. I’m just as guilty. We are in this t-together..” Minsu says. 

“Subong? Your roommate?” The other nurse clarifies. Minsu makes a weird face, and then he raises his head to stare at the still open door of the room. Where Thanos— ‘Subong’ apparently— could certainly hear them from. Minsu’s pupils dance around in his eyes a little bit, jittery like he’s had many cups of coffee. Despite this teammate attitude, it is clear that he is afraid of Thanos. 

“I can’t stay with him. He'll hurt me,” Minsu says, his breath growing quicker and rougher. 

“Why do you think so, Minsu?” One of the nurses asks. 

“He said he didn’t want to hurt you,” The custodian blurts, suddenly. All three faces turn to him, each one pale with shock. The nurses eyebrows dip down with concern, and Minsu looks lost. “He uh- while you were gone. He told me he didn’t mean to scare you.” 

The custodian waits for the inevitable call for him to clock out, but it does not come. Instead, an unsure expression rises on Minsu’s previously frightened face. And the two nurses turn away from the custodian again to look at their patient. 

“Minsu,” One of the nurses says. “We were made aware that the both of you were under the influence of an unnamed substance during your kidnapping. You must know that it's possible Subong’s behaviour will be much different now that he is sober, yes?” 

That’s interesting. They were drugged up? Maybe then the whole games thing was a part of a really bad trip? And the nurses may have a good point, depending on what they took, it's possible that Thanos- or Subong’s actions towards Minsu were much more cruel than what his sober self would have intended. Not that it excused.. whatever he did. Thanos did mention that he ‘messed with him’. Suddenly the custodian felt very immersed in these poor patients’ stories. 

“Tonight, we of course won’t make you sleep in the same room. But tomorrow, we will place you in the same group meeting so that maybe you can give him a chance to explain himself. Okay?” The other nurse suggests. “It’s as you said. You’re in this together. And if our custodian here is telling the truth, your roommate didn’t want to harm you.” 

Minsu doesn’t look overly ecstatic about this decision. 

“You put Namgyu in the same meeting as me right after he tried to strangle me to death.” Minsu says, coldly. “I wouldn’t have been shocked if you made me sleep here too.” 

“But Namgyu’s words in the meeting did give you a better understanding, yes?” One of the nurses counters. 

The custodian is lost now. Evidently there’s a third person involved that the custodian is not familiar with. Is it the same person Thanos mentioned on the notepad and scribbled out? Namgyu? Namsu? 

“I think you could have done me the favour of keeping him away from me for at least the rest of the day,” Minsu says, bitterly. And the custodian doesn't know the story, but for some reason, he sort of feels like the patient might be right. 

“Here, let us take you to a different bedroom. The only one we have available and clean is with three other patients, so you’ll have to be okay with some noisy breathing and the like,” One of the nurses warns as they walk Minsu away from his previous room. 

“Theres’s no private room?” Minsu asks, his voice small. The custodian feels for him. It can’t be comfortable being forced into a crowded sleeping arrangement after a traumatic experience. One where, supposedly, many people were stuck all together. If this guy was going to get better, the least they could do is provide him some space. Seems like its not going to happen.

“The bed is only actually even available because the patient is on a temporary trip outside tonight. We are otherwise completely booked up, Minsu. I’m sorry,” The other nurse explains. And the custodian hadnt known that. Maybe he shouldn’t have told Thanos that they may be moved to separate rooms. Perhaps it was not possible with the current occupancy. Not that Thanos seemed excited about that idea. If anything he seemed to hope his roommate would come back.

As much as the custodian feels glued to Minsu’s side of things, nervous breakdown or not, he does think that perhaps a proper conversation between him and his roommate would be beneficial. After all, the custodian’s conversation with Thanos was quite civil. Minsu would probably be less frightened in a group setting and under the light of day. The custodian decides that he is rooting for them to be at least aquaintances. 

He can’t imagine the struggles of these patients, really. The things he overhears are so often unbelievable. And if any of it is made up, it's more likely only been made up because of a real experience. Whatever real kidnapping caused Thanos to spiral into this whimsical story of games and hundreds of people at his side, it must have been bad. 

The Custodian finds himself staring at Minsu’s back as he is led down back towards the welcome desk by the two nurses. Neither of the nurses remembered to tell him to lock up Thanos’ room again, but he knows it's what he should probably do.

Just when the custodian is about to close the door, Thanos lifts the curtain divider again and peeks at him. He then comes rushing through and waves both of his hands in a universal ‘stop!’ signal. The custodian pauses, his hand still on the door handle. 

Thanos pulls out his notepad and starts writing, furiously. Much quicker than he had been earlier. 

‘They talked about him,’ Thanos has written. And he must see the blank look on the custodian’s face, because he grunts with some frustration and continues to write. ‘Namgyu is here?’

He looks a lot more urgent than before. All of the indifference that had shed off into disappointment, it is now a buzzing nervousness. Thanos waits for the custodian to give some sort of response.

”I.. I’m not familiar with that patient,” The custodian admits. “I’m sorry.”

Thanos starts to write again.

’You have to find out! They said he was in a meeting with Minsu and smth about strangling’ 

The custodian recalls hearing the same thing, but he has no way of knowing if said patient was still here. It’s more than likely, but the custodian would feel horrible if he lied to a patient by accident. He’s better off not spouting off facts he can’t possibly check. Like he did with the separate rooms bullshit earlier. 

“He’s probably still here. At least it sounds like it,” The custodian compromises. Thanos’ face lights up like a stadium stage, and his hands ball up into fists, crunching the pages of the notepad a little bit. The paper bunches up, his scribbled words now unreadable. The hope in his eyes tells the custodian all he needs to know.

”Do you.. want to talk about him?” The custodian suggests, aware that he is likely way breaching the bounds of any patient interaction instructions in his employment contract. He can’t help it, the way Thanos shakes, like he is about to burst, like he needs to get something out. The custodian has to offer some sort of avenue for him. Subong, or Thanos, nods twice and then gestures for the custodian to sit down. He points at the floor, next to the still drying puddle of soapy water. 

“Hm? I don’t know, do we need to sit on the-“ The custodian is cut off by Thanos tugging him down to the ground by the sleeve. Thanos sits down criss-cross with his back against the doorframe. Hitting the ground with a thud and a small pain in his tailbone, the custodian lets out a grunt. “..dirty floor.”

Thanos writes something quickly. ‘What should I talk about?’ 

“I thought you wanted to talk about your friend,” The custodian responds, as diplomatically as he can. Maybe Thanos just wants to talk to anybody. Maybe that's what had happened with Minsu. Maybe he had really approached his roommate for conversation and it had been horrifically misinterpreted. Thanos nods again.

’Yes but what about him’ Thanos writes, with no question mark. The custodian isn’t sure what Thanos wants him to say. Does he want to be interrogated? Play 20 questions? The custodian had assumed that the patient was just waiting to let loose and write out his stream of consciousness. The custodian assumed that Thanos had only needed a listener, turns out he seems to need prompts as well.

“Uh well,” The custodian clears his throat. “Maybe tell me why you’re so excited that your friend may be in here with you?” 

Thanos nods and begins to write. The custodian spends the small bit of time making sure the mop is balancing properly against the wall so that it won’t fall again. Thanos hands the notebook over for the custodian to read this time, two pages full of erratic writing. 

‘He was my main man in the games. We stuck together and made all our choices as a team.’ The first lines read. The custodian tries to read with an actively changing expression so that Thanos knows he is engaged. Having a good listener right now may be exactly what he needs. Not that the custodian is a professional or anything. He moves to the next lines. ‘He was the only one that didn’t pull some weird shit. All of our other ppl got lost in it, but Namsu saw things straight. I knew him outside. He was just ready to go all the time. The type of guy you can rely on.’

Ready to go? Is this referring to the drugs the custodian had heard about? 

‘He had the same mindset as me. We just clicked right? And he was right next to me with a sly little smile at every turn. It was mad. Like a match made in the heavens you kno? And so we were having a lot of fun in there.’ 

So this is a really close buddy that Subong is missing. A close buddy who had allegedly attacked Minsu just hours prior. Based on all of the information being revealed tonight, the custodian has a sneaky feeling that Thanos and ‘Namsu’ Namgyu, whoever, were a dastardly pairing. He wonders what the ‘messing with Minsu’ truly was. The custodian keeps reading. 

‘And so when i got hurt in this big fight because of fking Minsu n MG Coin-‘ The custodian stops reading to just stare at that second name for a moment. He can’t for the life of him imagine what type of individual would go by such a title. Another extrovert cool-guy type like Thanos? More importantly, a big fight. Hm. The writing continues, but Thanos seems to notice that the custodian had paused. 

Thanos points down at the page where it says hurt, and then points up at the bandages around his neck. The custodian’s mouth forms and o, and he nods slowly. A pretty bad fight, then. 

‘Everything went dark and i had no idea what happened to my boy. My Namsu. I wake up on a boat, and then again in the hospital, and then I’m taken here. And I’m getting no answers and nobody will tell me anything about my man.’ Thanos’ scribbles deteriorate as the sentences continue, the letters growing more and more sloppy. Some words missing letters completely. The custodian can feel the emotion in the writing just as well as he could have had Thanos been speaking. The custodian can see Thanos’ intense stare looking straight at him over the notepad, perhaps watching for reactions or understanding, maybe empathy. The custodian does his best to put on an appropriate expression. At the moment, the whole situation is so overwhelming that while the custodian does feel bad for this patient, he is also trying to make sense of the story simultaneously. 

’And I’m thinking this whole time like, last place i saw him was that bathroom and he’s getting the shit beat out of him while im blinking in and out. I’m thinking he’s dead and idk how i survived the whole shitshow and im sort of thinking that i also caused it and lead him into it and im thinking he’s dead and its my fault’ 

The jumpy contextless rambles would be hard enough to dissect with perfect grammar, but it's even tougher when written in such a manner. Towards the end, when the words start repeating, it sort of looks more like a toddler with a crayon than a grown man with a marker. The custodian feels his heart ache for this patient. What a scary experience to have to face and recall. And how much worse it must have been to be so alone afterwards. Nobody filling you in or updating you on your friends’ whereabouts or wellbeing. 

The custodian feels he understands now, why Thanos had been so over the moon to hear Namgyu’s name in this place. 

The custodian looks up from the notepad, signalling to Thanos that he is done reading. Thanos takes the notepad back from him and flips to a clean page to prepare his next response. Then he looks at the custodian expectantly. 

“..I’m so sorry you were hurt so badly,” The custodian starts. To which Thanos makes a dismissive waving motion, as if the neck injury is nothing at all. The custodian sort of gets that, he supposes if he thought his friends were dead he would be unphased by his own injury too. Severe or not. “And I’m very sorry that none of the people taking care of you have given you any peace of mind. You should have been informed about your friend.” 

Thanos nods once. twice. Then nods again and turns his head away, bringing a hand up to his face, knuckles against one eye. The emotions must be too much. The custodian gives him a second. 

“You seem like a strong person. Outgoing and charismatic. I’m sure your friend was happy to have someone like you in there to be next to,” The custodian offers. Thanos stares at him, hand back down to grip the notepad. His eyes are glistening in the greenish hue of the shitty flickering nighttime light. ”Don’t dwell on who is responsible for the fight. I know I don't know the whole story, but I’m sure being in a place like… what you’ve described, can drive a group of people to act out. I’m certain it wasn’t just you looking for trouble.” 

Thanos takes to writing again. Much shorter this time, only a few seconds. 

‘Namsu and I were talking to Minsu. I was telling stories. big stories.’ Thanos has written. He waits for a reply from the custodian, but sensing that this was too vague, Thanos writes again. ‘MG Coin thought we wanted to fight. So he poked us and called his people.’

This MG Coin person again. 

“And why do you feel like the fight was your fault? If you think uh.. MG.. MG Coin started it? You and your friend were only pulled into it, yeah?” The custodian says. Thanos frowns. He looks ashamed, as if he hasn’t shared the whole truth. He writes more.

’MG Coin started it because he thought we were gonna hurt Minsu,’ Thanos has written. The custodian bites his lip. 

“Do you think Minsu felt similarly threatened by your.. story time?” The custodian asks, spotting the opportunity for further context on the Minsu mess. Thanos looks even more ashamed. 

‘Maybe. But I didn't want to hurt him. We only chose to go along with the fight because it was MG Coin. Namsu and i hate MG Coin. He took all our money.’ Thanos’ writing is basically chicken scratch by now, a pot of emotions covering the yellow pages. Once Thanos sees that the custodian has read it, he starts writing again. ‘But it ended up with me KO and Namsu left to deal with it by himself. I think i put a lot of people in bad places in there. I think i did a lot of bad things.’ 

The custodian lets that ruminate for a moment or two after he has read it. It seems Thanos is done writing until he receives another reply, so the custodian thinks hard about how he can approach it. The truth is, if Thanos was really at fault, he would probably be in a prison psychiatric session and not a regular university hospital, right? He must only be overthinking the gravity of his sole contributions.

”Thanos, you said it yourself that you two were making your choices together. You even said ‘we’ just now. You’re not uniquely responsible for that fight. Or Nam..Namsu getting hurt. I’m sure you all had a part to play.” The custodian says. And he doesn't want to say anything that might convince Thanos that he is innocent. For all the custodian knows, he orchestrated the whole damn thing. The only thing keeping him hopeful that Thanos is not all problems is the shine in his eyes and his presence here in the regular treatment facility. 

The custodian’s words seem to help, at least a little bit. Thanos’ eyes don’t dry, but his frown grows flat instead of drooping down into his chin. He looks as though the burden has lessened just slightly. The custodian wonders, with this small sprout of pride in his chest, if he had better go to study to be a nurse. 

“What else are you wanting to get off of your chest? Anything else about your friend?” 

Thanos starts to write again. The custodian wonders if the nurses will think to return and check on Thanos soon. If they are planning to do so at all. He is sort of appalled that they haven’t yet. Maybe there is a lengthy conversation happening with Minsu. Thanos turns the notepad around again to reveal another page full. 

‘I rllly rlly hope Namsu wasn’t hurt in the fight. Pls not so bad as me. And im wondering what i can say to him and if he would still be part of my team or my world after that. If i messed it all up for good, like took it too far with Minsu and caused some bullshit. Im thinking if Namsu wants to see me outside again or if i scared him too while i was under. Minsu was rlly scared of me.’

And.. thats a lot. 

“Under? As in under the influence of drugs? I thought all three of you were high?” The custodian says. Thanos scribbles again. 

‘Just me n Namsu were popping them. And im trying to remember what else i did when i was on them. They were so crazy. i just remember the fight and the fun. But Gyeongsu disappeared and i just have a bad feeling.’ 

“You feel like you did something that you don’t recall?” The custodian clarifies. Thanos nods, stiffly. He writes again. 

‘And if i was scaring Minsu so bad that MG fucking Coin stepped in, i just also wonder if i was scaring Namsu.’ 

“I don’t think so, Thanos,” The custodian says, although he has no way of knowing. But he can’t imagine that the patient supposedly going around strangling guys was scared of a little hostile talk from the guy with the purple hair and the rainbow nails. ”From what you’ve told me, it sounds like Namsu was with you all the way. I think you’ve had too much time to think. They should have let you know he was okay right when they knew.” 

Thanos nods gratefully and writes again. 

‘I try to give benefit of the doubt. Maybe they didnt kno. But i kept asking so i wish they would have checked for me.’ 

The words written are draining. And The custodian opens his mouth to respond just before Thanos turns the notebook back to himself again to add something. This time, Thanos is sort of hunched over the notepad like he needs to hide what he is writing. Which is silly, because the custodian knows he will turn it around to face him again in a second. But then, in the strange lights of the hallway, he sees a flash bolt down from Thanos’ face to the paper. And a small drip sound, a teeny tiny splat, as the tear hits the paper. Thanos shows him the notepad again and looks away.

’I was really scared for him.’ Accompanied by a grey dot of moisture above the writing, no doubt salty. The custodian feels his limbs buzz with anger on behalf of this patient. Who had been in pain and left uninformed about the circumstances of his own rescue. 

“I hope you will see him soon, Thanos,” The custodian says, and Thanos nods one last time. The custodian’s head jolts to his left as he hears the distinct squeaking of a nurse’s sneakers approaching from the welcome desk. Time’s up.

The custodian wrenches himself to his feet, a hand braced on one knee and the other gripping his mop. Thanos seems to get the gist quickly, he gives the custodian a final thank you bow and dips backwards into the darkness of his room, closing the door with a heavy click that echoes through the hallway. The custodian hurries to look busy as the nurse finally comes into sight. 

“Is that the same puddle you were working on thirty minutes ago?” The nurse asks, one of the same ones who had come to fetch Minsu before. The custodian blinks. 

“Oh- ah- uh- yes well- i just did the rest of this area and circled back to here. I missed this bit in all the ruckus, actually,” The custodian says, scratching at the back of his neck.

”I’m sorry about all of that,” The nurse says, crossing her arms and moving to check that Thanos’ door is locked. It rattles with confirmation that it had automatically latched when closed. The nurse sighs in relief. “That shouldn’t ever happen. We take full responsibility. We weren’t paying close enough attention.” 

“It happens,” the custodian shrugs, trying not to look shaken. As though he hasn’t had the most shaking conversation of his recent years. “What matters is that they’re both safe.”

”You’re right,” The nurse says, with a smile that says she is very happy the custodian isn’t reporting them. He’s just happy she’s not reporting him. There’s been no talk of him opening the door. “Speaking of. Subong. Did you see him go back into his room and shut the door? It occurred to me just now that we left without making sure he was settled again. Just… too much on the mind with so many new patients at once and such a full house. I’m so sorry.”

”Yes he’s just fine. I saw him go right back to his bed,” The custodian confirms. 

“That’s great to hear,” The nurse says. 

And while they say their good nights, the custodian wonders how he is going to casually clean the section of the hallway he just claimed to have already done. He also wonders how his eccentric new friend will sleep tonight.

Chapter Text

The recreational therapist is used to big characters in the psych ward. His family often asks about the sorts of people he encounters and helps on the clock, and if he weren’t so dedicated to doctor-patient confidentiality, he would have a lot of interesting stories to share. Somehow, despite his rich history with a variety of intriguing individuals, these three new patients are uniquely memorable. 

It is rare that the ward takes in three people at once, even for a short stay. It is even rarer that they take in three people who know each other. The ultimate point of interest, however, is the fact that they were all taken in under orders of the government, by way of an unnamed branch of policing and victim’s services. All three of them were apparently rescued from the same crime scene. 

Their first day had been one of the more exciting in the ward. Possibly the most exciting in all the time the therapist has worked here. One of the new patients had attempted to strangle another, and the third is apparently a famous rapper. Does it get more exciting than that? And, the therapist had heard from the newbie nurse— that the strangle victim had escaped his room and taken off last night. He needed to be chased down and switched to a different room temporarily, the newbie had told him in a hushed voice. The therapist had nearly choked on his coffee. 

“We don’t have another place for him to stay,” The rapper’s nurse told him a little later, around the break table. The therapist had frowned. What is that supposed to mean? Are they having to discharge one of the three patients or send him to a different location? It has only been one day. Surely they can all get along if given the proper resources. “Which is why I need you to take on the task of getting them comfortable with each other.” 

“What?” The therapist had asked, setting down his coffee lightly. The nurse had itched at the side of his face awkwardly. Perhaps reluctant to pass on this seemingly large responsibility. 

”Can you organize some sort of activity for Subong and Minsu? We need them to get along well enough to share a room this week. There's no extra bed anymore,” The nurse had continued. 

”We can’t just swap around the beds? Have the other one share with Minsu instead?” The therapist had suggested. The nurse had immediately shook his head.

”No, the third patient is too violent. We were warned about it, so we put him in the private. And he just tried to strangle Minsu yesterday, remember?” The nurse had said. The therapist felt a little silly then.

”Oh right,” The therapist had said. “We can’t have Subong share with the third one?” 

“We think it's best to keep the third one- Namgyu, in a private room for now. Odds are if he is violent towards one person he can and will be violent towards another,” The nurse had responded. The therapist understood. Better to not take any unnecessary risks. 

“They mentioned that he was pretty open in group meeting though?” The therapist says, recalling the information passed on from other hospital staff. 

“Yes. Usually new patients hardly contribute anything to group meeting until at least a few days in. Sometimes weeks,” The nurse responds. “He said some.. interesting stuff about their kidnapping. Whatever it was.. it sounds like it was pretty unreal.”

“He could've been lying,” The therapist shrugs. “Not uncommon.” 

“That’s not a good outlook to have on patients,” The nurse scolds lightly, to which the therapist nods and flattens his mouth into a line. “And actually— Based on how secretive his care team was being, I think it’s true.” 

“Alright alright. And you’re sure you don’t want to include the violent one in this session as well? Just Subong and Minsu for now?” The therapist checks. The nurse nods.

“Like I mentioned. Namgyu shouldn’t really be trusted around Minsu at the moment. It doesn’t matter how open he is in meetings if he’s attacking fellow patients. We’re just going to keep them apart unless it's a controlled setting like a group sit-down session,” the nurse reiterates. 

“Could he join if it’s something indoors and statutory? Like.. cards or something?” The therapist asks. The nurse sighs and nods. 

“I suppose that’s no different than group meeting, yes. That’s fine. But for now, just Subong and Minsu. Okay?” 

So here he is, waiting for the patients to be directed to the longest strip of grass in the garden where they will be starting with a simple game of catch. The recreational therapist checks his watch, fiddles with the baseball he holds, and then glances up at the door as Subong is lead into the courtyard by his nurse. This patient is the most interesting. As the newbie nurse had said, he is a famous rapper. He has vibrant purple hair cut in a cool style, with tufts that sort of seem to naturally curl upward into something like devil’s horns. He has long thick lines of ink up and down his arms and neck, and if the therapist had to guess- they likely went beyond that as well. And, although it now seems to be chipping away a little bit, he also wears colourful nail polish. 

On top of his physical appearance, he also carries himself with a level of confidence that is to be expected of a famous rapper. It is almost like something out of an American movie, the sort of laid-back strut he uses. Forced or not, the image matches the career perfectly. And seeing it all fall into place in a location such as a hospital, specifically the physiatric ward, it is a little unsettling. It almost feels like he was placed here by accident. Like Subong is perhaps an undercover inspector checking on the safety and security of their hospital. 

As the nurse walks Subong over to the therapist, the sun glimmers down onto them from above, through the large open courtyard entrance. The patches of light flicker through the trees onto Subong’s bright hair, leaving shiny lavender patches in the colour, like he has just come from a hair appointment with some early 2000s highlight style. His hair colour also matches well with several of the small bushes of purple flowers littered throughout the courtyard. It is like the courtyard welcomes him, like it approves of him. Almost like it wants him to be here. 

He seems to light up as he exits the stuffy hallways of the hospital as well, something like a pleasant expression settles on his face. Not a smile but not a frown. Like somebody waiting for his turn to skate the bowl, he places his hands behind his head, elbows out as he leans back into his palms, fingers clasped together cupping the back of his skull. 

“Subong, nice to meet you,” The recreational therapist says, offering a polite handshake to the patient. The patient gives a small nod, but doesn’t spend much time looking at the therapist. Certainly not long enough to notice the hand out waiting to be shaken. Subong only looks around the courtyard, not a care in the world. From the outside it probably looked as though he purposely ignored the introductory gesture. But the recreational therapist brings his hand back to his side and takes a long look at Subong’s face. It’s clear to him that Subong had sincerely missed the handshake, obviously too enamoured with the beauty of the gardens. 

Off to a good start. 

“Today we’re going to toss a ball around for a little bit. Group activities that involve movement, however small, help build bonds and brighten moods. If you’re feeling low, it can sometimes be a good distraction to come outside and do something like this.” The therapist explains. Subong is still looking everywhere apart from the therapist, and he doesn’t seem to really hear him either. But that's alright. 

Minsu approaches from the left, lead by the newbie nurse. He quivers behind her, not quite hiding from view, but evidently frightened by his roommate. 

“Hi Minsu, thank you for joining us this morning,” The recreational therapist greets, and he throws the baseball up a tiny ways and catches it again. “Today we’re here to strengthen our trust in one another and enjoy a bit of sunshine.”

Minsu doesn’t respond for a long moment, but he shakily steps out from behind the newbie nurse. Subong suddenly looks interested in the situation now, eyes ripped away from the gardens and now over at Minsu. His gaze is unreadable. The therapist even feels himself shiver with uncertainty. Do they know enough about the history here? 

“..Why with him?” Minsu questions, softly. “Not that- it’s- I’m..”

”You two are going to have to share your room for the rest of this week, so we thought it best to sort things out between you,” The therapist says. “I’m going to offer you both some methods to coexist and start tackling your individual struggles in your shared space. Today’s exercise also serves as a reminder that activities like this are always helpful in maintaining a healthy outlook on life.” 

“We’re playing catch?” Minsu asks, then he finally looks over at Subong, his eyes sort of wiggle with the desire to get away. The newbie nurse bids a silent farewell and pats Minsu’s shoulder. She turns to leave the courtyard. The therapist is left with the two patients staring each other down with varying levels of distrust.

The tension is rotten. There is shame in there somewhere, behind Subong’s eyes. His hands, still clasped behind his own head, shift and tremble. The therapist sees him shuffle his fingers back and forth, fidgeting, nervous, hiding it with the chilled out posture and facial expression. Minsu wouldn't see a bit of ambiguity, only the hard eyes and the leisurely pose. The therapist is at just the right angle to notice the vulnerability. Minsu is something like Subong’s opposite, standing hunched over a little bit, front and center are his hands, and with it, his anxiety. He folds and unfolds them, right in Subong’s line of sight, and half of his body curled over them protectively, defensively. A vision of nervousness. 

Minsu has vivid bruising on his neck, finger marks no doubt from the attack of the previous day. The therapist sees Subong look at them, his eyes running around Minsu’s darkened blotches of skin, perhaps wondering what happened. Or perhaps, feeling a kinship. The therapist watches as Subong brings a hand to his own neck, and brushes his fingertips against the thick bandages. Minsu’s frightened body language shifts just slightly, his expression hardens, but he remains curled over himself. 

“For the next forty five minutes to an hour, depending on how much you enjoy it, we’re going to pass this ball back and forth. And we’re going to ask each other questions,” The therapist says. At that, Subong takes his eyes off of Minsu only to give an unimpressed scowl to the recreational therapist. The first head-on look that implies anything other than indifference. The recreational therapist clears his throat. “Of course, since Subong cannot currently answer with his voice, and since it would be inconvenient and frustrating for him to have to write every answer, we’ll simply only ask him yes or no questions. Is that okay with you, Minsu?” 

“Why do we have to ask each other questions at all?” Minsu asks, grabbing and rubbing at his own arm. His stance is painfully awkward. 

“We’re just trying to get more comfortable with one another for the roommate situation. And, who knows, you two might find some value in being friendly with someone who went through the same thing as you,” The therapist explains.

”We had… different experiences,” Minsu says. At that, Subong’s mouth opens, as if offended. As if, in disagreement. 

“Seems like a good place to start,” The therapist says, suddenly tossing the ball over to Minsu, who catches it with a surprised stumble backwards. Both hands cradle the ball against his chest, and he lets out a small ‘oof!’

The therapist thinks he hears Subong snicker a little bit. 

“When you have the ball, you ask a question to the person you throw it to,” The therapist says. “Minsu, I’ll ask your first question for you, just as an example. Subong, do you also think you had a very different experience?”

Subong immediately shakes his head no. Minsu purses his lips, seemingly unsatisfied with this response. The recreational therapist makes a gesture for Minsu to throw the ball. Subong catches it easily, one handed. He then looks down at it and picks at the threads. Then, he looks up at the therapist with an expectant stare, eyes dull and once again unimpressed. 

“Uh- right. I suppose not being able to speak causes issues with both sides of this game, hm?” The therapist laughs awkwardly. “How about: Instead, I ask all of the questions. And later today, if you guys are wanting some proper communication, we can have Subong bring his notepad. Yeah?” 

Minsu doesn’t say anything, just waits for the therapist to blurt out another question for Subong. The therapist decides not to waste anymore time. He wishes he thought this out a little better. 

“Minsu, why do you feel that you and Subong can’t relate?” The therapist asks. 

“…Because he wanted to hurt me,” Minsu says. “I was just as scared of him as I was of the guards.” 

Guards? 

Subong’s jaw hangs open, his eyes wide and maybe even watery. This is not how this game is supposed to go. The therapist bites his lip. 

Subong’s arms come up, bent at the elbow, palms (one empty and one holding the ball) facing the sky, as if to say ‘why?!’ He looks hurt and confused. The therapist wonders what attitude Subong might have had during their joint kidnapping. What Minsu could have had to be afraid of. 

Subong throws the ball at Minsu, and gives a look that is almost pleading to the therapist. Practically begging him to ask the right questions in the coming rounds. Minsu catches the ball and squeezes it. 

“Subong, did you want to hurt Minsu before?” The therapist asks. Clearly satisfied with this question, Subong gratefully sigh in relief and shakes his head ‘no’ several times. Minsu’s frown only deepens. Minsu throws the ball, Subong catches it. 

“Minsu, why did you think Subong wanted to hurt you?” The therapist asks. Subong looks at Minsu as if he himself has asked the question, he looks desperate for the answer. Minsu appears hesitant, a small bit of sweat making the skin on his face shimmery and his bangs slightly clumped up. 

“You were threatening me. You were trying to control my choices. You both were..” Minsu says, his voice small. Subong once again looks shocked and bothered. He shakes his head and lets out a huff. Then, finally, he throws the ball back to Minsu.

“Subong, did you mean to threaten Minsu?” The therapist prompts. To his surprise, there is not an immediate head shake or anger like the previous questions. Instead Subong just turns away from the game of catch and places his face in his upturned hands. Minsu’s frown grows even larger. 

The recreational therapist watches as whatever magical confidence that had been building throughout the game blooms on Minsu’s face. Very likely nourished by Subong’s obvious disinterest in hurting him, Minsu drops the baseball and his hands curl into fists at his sides. Encouraged by Subong’s apparent shame at past intimidation attempts, Minsu takes a step forward. All of the lingering fear and suspicion dissipates, and he stands up slightly straighter. The therapist assumes the light of daytime must help in making Subong less menacing. 

“Do you know what happened to Gyeongsu?” Minsu asks, throwing the ball back at Subong with a little more kick this time. Subong turns just in time to dodge the ball. It lands a ways away, in one of the small patches of purple flowers. Subong stares, mouth slightly ajar, hands open similarly and shaking. 

The therapist feels the panic rise. He is not sure what kind of conversation he has just brewed, but he is sensing now that it will not be helpful in having these two comfortably room together. He puts his hands out.

”This activity doesn't really work well if it's entirely one-sided,” The therapist warns, deciding to stop it and figure out something else for them to do. But, Minsu doesn’t bother looking in his direction. Subong glances over at the recreational therapist, with an expression that says ‘no shit?’

”Do you know what happened, Thanos?” Minsu asks. And the therapist supposes Minsu must have been familiar with Subong’s rapper identity prior to their kidnapping? Or maybe the kidnappers had referred to him by his stage name? 

Thanos shakes his head slowly, left and then right. Minsu stares.

The therapist is shocked that in a matter of a few minutes, he had managed to tangle these two patients up in a conversation that clearly had no business taking place when only one of them can speak. He decides to call it off.

“You-“ Minsu starts, one hand raised, index finger pointing out at Subong. 

”Minsu that’s enough,”  The therapist says, stepping in between Subong and Minsu. Minsu glares past him, his hands tightly balled up. “I’m going to continue asking the questions. Subong, can you pick up the ball?” 

The therapist hears Subong shuffle away behind him, going to fetch the ball from the patch of flowers. In the meantime, The therapist places a soothing hand on Minsu’s shoulder.

“If you have a serious topic that needs attention, you can speak about it with me first. We’re trying to become more comfortable together, not icing each other out with accusations. Okay?” The therapist says. Minsu’s eyes finally come away from Subong, finally meet the therapist’s, and the scowl slowly shifts into a less hostile frustration. Minsu nods and looks down. 

Subong returns with the ball. He stands back in the place he was before. The therapist steps back from in between the two of them.

”Minsu are you feeling different after your traumatic experience?” The therapist asks, prompting Subong to throw the ball. Subong tosses it lightly, underhand, and Minsu has to duck forward slightly to catch it. Subong winces. Minsu looks up at the therapist, ball caught successfully. 

“Yes,” He says, with seemingly no intention to elaborate. It may be better that way, to keep things equal. 

“So.. it’s reasonable to assume that Subong also feels different after his experience. Is that right, Subong?” The therapist asks. Minsu seems to be conflicted, the frustration on his face mixing with puzzlement in an uncomfortable way. Minsu throws the ball. Subong catches it. Subong nods. 

“Now, Minsu, with that being established, do you think you can relate deeper with Subong? You’re both dealing with the effects of the same exact situation,” The therapist says. Subong throws the ball. When Minsu catches it, Minsu does not nod or shake his head, he only stares at the ball and frowns. The therapist tries again. “Can you at least reconsider your shared room? Do you feel scared of Subong right now?” 

Minsu shakes his head no, firmly. And then he throws the ball. Subong catches it with a neutral expression.

”Subong, do you feel any hostility towards your roommate?” The therapist asks. Subong shakes his head side to side vigorously, his purple hair messed up with the repeated movement. “Surely you would agree to simply stay on your side of the room and respect Minsu’s privacy, yes?” 

Subong nods, and throws the ball. Minsu catches. 

“Minsu, do you think you can relate to Subong on the topic of substances? You were both found to be using within the confines of your abduction. Minsu looks up, his eyes wide. 

Minsu slowly shakes his head no. The therapist raises a brow. 

“Really? You once again feel as though you had a different experience than Subong did?” The therapist asks. Minsu slowly nods, and before the therapist can follow up again, he throws the ball. Subong catches it. 

”Subong do you feel that you and Minsu can relate on the topic of substances?” The therapist asks. 

To his surprise, when he turns to look at Subong, the patient looks completely confused. The therapist thinks to rub his eyes, as Subong points to Minsu as if to clarify ‘him?’ As if he had not been aware at all that Minsu had also taken a drug whilst kidnapped. The therapist wonders if there is certain information they don’t have about one another. If maybe the situation is more complicated than their victims services agents explained. Subong waits for answers, mouth open and one brow raised, a phantom question mark appearing above his head. He jerks his head forward, to highlight his disbelief. The recreational therapist looks back over to Minsu and sees that he is looking at the ground with a great amount of shame. 

“What do you guys say we take this inside and have a proper discussion?” The therapist suggests. 

And it is about ten minutes later when the three of them sit at a circular table in an empty counselling room. The warm inside lights don’t come close to the comfort of the sunlight, but the therapist would say that the space is adequate for a difficult discussion like this one. Subong sits on the therapist’s right, while Minsu sits on his left. Subong has his notepad ready on the table, flipped several pages forward to a clear page. Minsu has both of his hands in his hair, elbows on the table. 

“Alright. So let’s pick up where we left off, shall we? Ah- and I’d like to apologize that I did not choose a more effective activity for our communication circumstances,” The recreational therapist starts, his hands folded on the table. “Hopefully this works better for us.”

Minsu and Subong say nothing. Minsu continues to stare down at the table, his hands tug a little bit at his pin straight hair. Subong scratches at his chin, attempting once again to look bored and uncaring. They are past that, the therapist thinks. It is no use now. 

“So. Subong, were you not previously aware that Minsu had also been using substances during your joint capture?” The therapist asks. 

Subong hurriedly picks up his marker and begins to write. When he finishes, he slides the notepad across the table for the therapist to read out.

”Ahem. Subong says: There is no way he was using in there. If he was, he wouldn't have been such a.. I can’t repeat that word, Subong. And it is not helpful to namecall,” The therapist scolds. Subong does not offer a reaction, only looks over to see Minsu’s. Minsu glares down at where it says ‘pussy’ on the notepad. He does not say anything. 

Subong snatches the notepad back and hastily writes something else. 

The therapist reluctantly reads it out. “You don’t need to treat us like toddlers. I”m just saying it how it is. Nothing wrong with a bit of… pussy-ism.” 

Minsu looks up at the therapist, shocked at him actually reading out the made-up word. Then, his glare switches over to Subong, who stifles a laugh into his fist. 

“I was scared because we were fighting for our lives,” Minsu says. Subong rolls his eyes. He takes his notepad and writes. This time, the therapist does not read it out, interested to see how the conversation goes organically. 

‘Well you shouldn’t have worried so much. I got out more hurt than u did.’ 

”You almost died. I thought you really died. We were in mortal danger. We were killing each other. Of course I was scared.” Minsu says, bravely. Subong only stares back at him, his smile fading a little bit. Subong writes again.

‘Were you actually high? On what? I’m lost’ Subong lets Minsu read it, then takes the notepad back and writes again. ‘U didnt even ask me for any of my shit’

Minsu sighs deeply and opens his mouth to respond.

”Yours? Your stuff?” The therapist interrupts. Subong looks at him, confused. “You were the one giving others the substance? It was not your perpetrators?” 

”You didn’t know that?” Minsu asks, while Subong furiously scribbles something else down. 

“The hospital only knew that there were a handful of people on drugs. They didn’t know where it came from. It’s not uncommon to be dosed in a situation like that,” The therapist explains. “I believe another one of you implied at some point that that may not have been the case, but they weren’t sure his word could be trusted.”

‘I only gave my stuff to Namsu! Nobody fcking else!’ Subong had written. 

“I got a hold of it after you got hurt, Thanos,” Minsu says. Again with the rapper name. The therapist bites his lip.

’How??????’ Subong writes, then underlines it twice, angrily. If, a little worriedly. Suddenly, for whatever reason, there is no fake cool-guy mask on at the moment. 

“There were two more games after you, well, after we thought you died,” Minsu explains. Games. The therapist feels a chill go down his spine. 

‘Two more games? Then rescue? Is Namsu alive?’ Subong asks. And the therapist watches as Minsu’s expression morphs into something entirely unreadable. Maybe something fake. He does not offer any confirmation or denial of this unknown friend’s death. There has been a lot of talk about various friends the therapist is not familiar with. How many other people had been captured? Subong stares, mouth open, eyes wet, then he writes again. His letters now shaky and messy. ‘He gave you the pills?’

”Of course not,” Minsu says. “He was holding onto the cross for a while, but I found it- he must have dropped it- in one of the games.”

Subong looks stiff, frozen. Minsu avoids his gaze, as if struggling to respond properly to the emotions displayed on Subong’s face. The therapist thinks this is going much better now, despite the coldness. They are successfully conversing about their experience, which is good progress. Subong writes again, his cursive having devolved into something nearly illegible. 

‘I heard that he’s here. tell me it's right?’ Subong has written, and this time he holds the notepad up for Minsu to read. Minsu only stares for a long while, and then shrugs. His face delivers something that the therapist can only read as purpose. Subong lets the notepad fall to the table, and he places a hand over his mouth, and looks away as he takes in a breath. 

The therapist watches as tears well up in Subong’s eyes, as his raspy breathing which before had been a result of his injury, worsens with great emotion. The therapist, overwhelmed by having zero context for the back and forth, turns to Minsu, only to find him standing up from his seat at the table.

”We can share a room,” Minsu says, flatly. “It’s fine. Can I go now?” 

The therapist frowns, but nods. “Yes Minsu, your next group meeting will be tomorrow. You have free time and then a check-in with the doctor and your victim services officer at 3pm. You’re free to go.” 

Minsu leaves the room, lets the door latch shut gently, holds the door knob all the way before walking off. His steps barely audible through the heavy psych ward door. Subong has not moved at all. He only sits there staring off at the wall, sideways in his chair, cupping his hand over his mouth. 

”I think you did a really good job in our discussions with Minsu today, Subong,” The therapist says, earning absolutely no reply. The therapist bites his lip.

”You did a great job being more approachable and vulnerable. It seems like Minsu has no issue sharing a space with you now,” The therapist says. “I wish I understood more about what you were talking about, but I’m sure with time and more group meetings we will all be aware of what you two went through. Or of course, however much you’re wanting to share.”

Subong still doesn’t respond or move. He breathes in through his nose with several stutters, and his chest rises in a similar way, jolting almost like every breath is electrocuting him. The therapist moves a hand to reach towards Subong, but Subong jerks backwards, his chair making a loud squeaking sound against the floor. The therapist’s hand freezes mid-reach. Subong does not get up and run off like the therapist was afraid he might, but he sits now a foot away from the table, both hands up over his entire face now. 

“Can I ask why you’re upset, Subong? Is it because Minsu used something that belonged to you? While you were unable to stop him?” The therapist asks, Subong doesn’t move. His hands cover any and all hints the therapist might have gotten from his expression.  “I can promise you, Subong, that there are infinite greater things in the world to worry about. I’m willing to bet there are lots of great things in your life that are much more worth being upset over than drugs.”

Subong still does not move with any intent, but his hands tremble where they cradle his face. 

“Things can only get better from here, Subong. Now that you and Minsu are on decent terms, you can have better conversations with each other and fully come to an understanding about your traumatic experience,” The therapist says. And he gets the feeling that the words aren’t even entering Subong’s ears, let alone being processed. The therapist sighs. “I’d say now is a good time to call it. I sense that you’re needing some privacy. Maybe stay here and settle down for a few minutes. I’ll be back.” 

Subong still doesn’t move, and the therapist decides to go and get his assigned nurse. 

The recreational therapist finds him at one of the welcome desk computers, typing away at some kind of form. 

“Nurse,” He says to him, over the counter. The nurse looks up and raises his eyebrows once he recognizes the therapist.

”Oh yes! Hi! How did it go? I think I saw Minsu around here a moment ago,” The nurse says, a small smile on his face. The therapist rubs at the back of his neck.

”I think it went well.. I can tell you about it. Could you come with me for a sec?“ The therapist gestures over his shoulder. The nurse frowns and stands up.

They head back down the pink hallways towards the empty counselling room they had been using. 

“It was a little tough to work around Subong’s injury,” The therapist explains, as they swiftly approach the room. Many other patients and nurses are out and about since it is the middle of the day. The business slows them a little bit on their way. “But it seemed like they cleared things up? Minsu definitely didn’t look scared anymore.”

”Seemed?” The nurse asks, as they dodge a hurried nurse carrying several sanitary wipe bags. 

“Yes well, their situation is so hard to understand.. there were a lot of moments where I got lost trying to follow their exchange,” The therapist explains. The nurse nods. “Minsu voiced that he would be fine sharing the room now, so it must have gone well. But.. Subong didn’t look so great afterwards. When I left he was just sort of.. sitting there? Holding his face in his hands.” 

“What did Minsu say to upset him?” The nurse asks, with concern. 

“I didn’t catch anything outwardly upsetting! That’s why I’m so confused about his reaction. They were just catching up about what had happened after Subong was injured. I think there is a lot Subong didn’t know,” The therapist says.

”Like what?” The nurse asks, as the counselling room’s door comes into view.

”Well. First off, did you know the drugs that they all had in there were Subong’s?” The therapist asks. The nurse’s jaw drops. 

“What?!” The nurse whisper-yells. 

“Yes. And Minsu had apparently stolen some of them a while after Subong was injured. It sounded convoluted. Thanos wasn’t just handing them out like candy I don't think. Either way, nobody was made to take the drugs. They were all willing users is what it sounded like,” The therapist rambles. The nurse nods, calming down as they reach the door.  

“Maybe he’s upset that his drugs were taken off of him by someone he trusted?” The nurse theorizes. The therapist shakes his head.

”Actually it sounded like they were discarded by somebody else first, and Minsu just happened to find them,” The therapist explains, they pause at the door to the counselling room. “When I brought it up to Subong just now, he said nothing. It didn’t seem to be the source of his stress. He was just sitting there with his head in his hands, and he wouldn’t let me touch him.”

“Well. Let’s go in and ask a few more questions,” The nurse decides, turning the knob on the door and pushing it open. 

To reveal a completely empty room. The chair Subong had been sitting in sat sideways on the ground. 

“Oh my god not again!” The nurse exclaims, turning away from the room and immediately darting down the hallway. ”Subong?!” 

“I don’t see the issue.. don’t they have free roam?” The therapist calls after him, his arms limp at his sides. “I wouldn’t have left him in an unlocked room if he was a flight risk!”

”Well I wouldn't let him walk around free if he was in a bad emotional state! You said he wasn’t even responding?” The nurse reiterates. 

And so they begin to search. It is extraordinarily difficult to find a patient when the ward is so packed full. And when something like this happens at a high-traffic hour of the day, it is especially problematic. There are tons of patients entering and exiting their rooms, taking leisurely strolls in the halls, checking into different activities and appointments, all with the same pyjamas. The therapist can only hope, as they stick their heads in and out of each room they pass, that Subong will be easier to find with his bright purple hair. 

Twenty minutes pass with no luck, and the therapist starts to feel really stupid about leaving Subong alone with his emotions. He actually feels pretty stupid about a myriad of his decisions today. Virtually all of them. Why did he have them play a game that required talking? Could he not have had them do colour-the-number’s or something? Something that could have allowed them to use the notepad the whole time? A table-top game. 

It is unreal how Subong managed to disappear so well in such a small space. There are only so many unlocked doors in the psych ward, even during the day time. And there are only so many rooms to begin with. The therapist has no clue how it has been nearly half an hour with no sign of Subong anywhere. And with every minute that passes, the guilt eats away more and more at his insides. Which is why the therapist is delighted when he hears the nurse call out from around the corner. 

“Subong! Oh my god where have you been?” The nurse shouts into the custodian’s closet. It is truly a small office space, a tiny desk shoved in with all of the cleaning equipment and a wall of hanging keyrings. Subong sits at the desk, leaning backwards in the chair with the same carefree attitude as the beginning of the day. A long string dangles from the flickering lightbulb above. Yellow light cascades down on Subong’s funny hair. Subong looks too tall for the room, like a shot from Alice in Wonderland. Whatever breakdown the therapist had thought was going on is not visible at all anymore. Subong is chomping on a granola bar, perhaps one he found in the drawers of the custodian’s desk. The nurse has a hand over his own heart as he takes deep calming breaths and prepares to speak to Subong.

The therapist crosses his arms over his chest and watches as the nurse pulls Subong up by the sleeve and snatches the granola bar out of his hand.

”Where did you get this? What are you doing? How did you even get in here?” The nurse asks, tugging Subong out of the closet and yanking at the string to turn the light off. Subong doesn’t offer any reply, of course. No physical attempt at communication either. 

“Are you pulling this kind of thing just to scare us? Are you alright?” The nurse asks. Subong stares for a minute, then nods. The therapist squints, not sure if Subong is saying yes to being a troublemaker or to being alright. The therapist wonders if it's both. 

“Were you actually upset earlier? You know you can walk around this place without conducting any big escape plan, right? Subong, you’re not a prisoner,” The nurse explains, letting Subong’s sleeve go and shutting the door to the custodian’s closet. Subong does not respond. The nurse sighs. “You shouldn’t go around sneaking into staff quarters. We have a lot of patients here and there could be sensitive information. Please be more mindful.”

”And if you’re hungry, you can just talk to me and we can set up your meal schedule differently,” The nurse adds on, as they all start to head back to Subong and Minsu’s room. Subong walks in between the therapist and the nurse. It was as if the Subong from earlier, the one that had been sniffling into his hands, never existed. This Subong only stares forward and yawns, walks just under the pace of the nurse and the therapist. “Listen, Subong, because you snuck into the custodian’s office, we’re going to have to have you stay in your room for the rest of today. Your dinner will be delivered tonight instead of getting it in the cafeteria, okay?” 

Subong is apparently suddenly too cool to look miffed at any of this information. He only nods and lets the staff members lead him back to his room. The therapist silently wonders if the nurse should just give him back the granola bar, since he’s obviously hungry right now— but the therapist also knows he is in no spot to tell people how to do their job. The therapist watches as the nurse tosses the half-eaten granola bar into a nearby trash can as they walk by it. Subong does not look overly peeved about it, so the therapist keeps his mouth shut. 

They reach the door to Subong’s room, and the nurse is quick to open it up and gesture for him to enter. Subong complies, and sits down on the edge of his bed. Then falls backwards with his arms splayed out. 

“Subong, again, you don’t need to act out. Other than the remainder of today, you are allowed to walk around and enjoy the common areas on your own. You’re not being monitored harshly. But we will have to up the security around you if you continue to behave this way,” The nurse reiterates. “I’m happy your conversation with Minsu went well, and I hope to see more progress from both of you over the rest of this week.” 

“Yes uh-“ The therapist chimes in, leaning in from the doorway. Subong does not look their way, only up at the ceiling. “I’m sure next time I can organize a more inclusive activity for you and Minsu to better utilize the notepad.” 

Subong still does not respond, and so the nurse decides that the conversation is over and moves to shut the door. As the therapist takes one last glance at the confusing patient, he thinks he sees a gleam of shiny metal sticking out from the band of Subong’s pyjama pants. For a moment, he is disturbed at the idea that Subong might be holding on to something dangerous. A metal loop, the therapist thinks, as the door latches. 

A metal ring. Of course, he nearly slaps his own forehead at his slowness. It must have just been one of the rings holding the notepad together. The nurse takes the lead and the therapist heads over to the break room to prepare for his next activity of the day. He wonders if he will be working with Subong or Minsu again before their stay ends.

Chapter Text

Namgyu can only equate the cold of his room to the cold he felt in that bathroom. The bright red streaming down in between the tiles, long rivers leaking closer and closer to him with every second. He remembers being thrown to the ground next to Thanos’ still body, Namgyu’s chin hitting the floor, his eyes landing on the weapon lodged in his friend’s neck. Whatever pain Namgyu had felt from his own beating, it had all gone away when faced with the picture in front of him. It had all been replaced by cold. Flooding all through him, the sudden debilitating freezing of his veins and muscles. The sudden adrenaline that pushes him to get up and whip around, use the weapon against his attacker. The weapon he had just taken from Thanos. The shiny fork, gleaming with his friend’s insides. Namgyu remembers the painful twist of his own face as he let the fork descend into his attacker several times. Feeling like someone he doesn’t know. The squelch and the flying speckles of blood as his attacker gave in and died under him. And Namgyu couldn't even feel any of it land on his face, couldn’t feel anything other than the cold. Even as a bathroom stall door crashed into his back and sent him sprawling over his victim, Namgyu felt only cold. 

Here, in this tiny room, in the blueish grey hue of the nighttime, he feels that same cold. He sits upright in his bed, knees up at his chest, the cross between his hands, and his wrists just burn with cold. Like a climber must feel using his last bit of energy to rip his own gloves off and kill any chance at surviving with all ten fingers. He feels like a swimmer after a failed race, crawling out and shivering while water descends all around them into pools at his feet. No towel. Namgyu feels like it's all over. The room is so cold, why is it so cold? Namgyu looks down at his hands and sees Minsu’s neck between them. He can’t believe that he’s here.

It’s only Namgyu’s luck that Minsu got put here too. They must be equal now, in murder attempts. Although Namgyu is sure Minsu shivers and cries at night while he tries to sleep, thinks about how he had really tried to kill Namgyu. Namgyu is sure he feels more guilt than Namgyu could ever fix with any little attack. Namgyu thinks, even if he successfully killed Minsu, Minsu wouldn’t feel good about having tried to do the same to him. He’s just the kind of guy that will let that act stay with him forever. He’ll probably roll around in bed years from now and remember how he tossed the cross out onto that platform. He’ll probably cry and whine to his empty bed about how he is irredeemable. Namgyu rolls his eyes and huffs, feeling lightheaded. 

Namgyu brushes his thumb over the ridges and dips of the metal on the top of the cross. Colder than the rest of him are the places the cross touches, as if coated in ice. The cross shines in the moonlight that comes in from the window. It stares him down with no love or comfort, just cold blue light. Namgyu swallows, then opens it up. He thinks, if he stares into it long enough, maybe he can will another pill into existence. 

This place is not a place for him. It’s a place for stupid people who don’t know where they are or what they’re doing. Or, people like Minsu who will no doubt struggle with his own actions and the actions he has witnessed for the rest of his tiny life. its not for Namgyu, who has already pocketed everything that happened there. Back pocket. It’s all gone. Practically none of it matters. He’s already completely over just about everything, obviously. 

The only reason he’s awake and not sleeping peacefully is because he’s here in this stupid place. If he were at home, he would be far beyond any late-night contemplation. He is sure of it. Namgyu shuts the cross closed with a click, and he lays down and readjusts in the bed. He places the cross next to his head on the pillow, lays sideways so he can look at it while his eyes slide shut. 

Thanos’ face greets him as soon as his eyes are shut. The darkness of the room is not comforting, and neither is the image of his dead friend. Namgyu tugs the covers up higher over him, but does not open his eyes. He squeezes them shut tighter, as though the image may change if he tries hard enough. It does not, instead he only continues to see his friend. Lazily laid out on his bunk in that damned place, one knee up comfortably. Fiddling with the same cross Namgyu now carries, bobbing his head back and forth with whatever tune he had been messing around with in his head. His purple hair looked darker in the cold light of the big bedroom, shiny and somehow a little silvery in some places. Pretty and bright, even in the shadows of the bunkbeds. 

Namgyu remembers crawling towards him with a specific goal, and then staying there kneeling between Thanos’ legs just because it felt right. And they had spent the whole morning like that, chatting so close together before the game began. Letting the drugs dissolve into his system and letting the funny numbness take over whatever conversation they had been sharing. Then it turned into giggly nonsense in no time. It had been so comfortable still, as his mind grew soft and squishy, and he leaned against Thanos and let their exchange turn into mush. Namgyu remembers the warmth of Thanos’ chest through their thick sweaters, and remembers Thanos’ numbered tag staring Namgyu down as Namgyu’s head laid against Thanos’ chest. Closer than the nametag, the cross would hang. Dangling right in front of Namgyu, an inch from his nose. 

Namgyu’s eyes flicker open, and he stares over at the cross the same way he had been looking at it before, when it had been attached to somebody else. But the pillow is cold in a way Thanos had not been. There is no light movement beneath his head, no rise and fall of breathing, no thump of a heart beating. He can only hear his own blood rushing, and the distant footsteps of staff members in the ward. He stares for a long time at the cross, thinking of the faint blue and red lights that had accompanied them in that place, like nightlights. More than likely a prompt to always think of their vote, to always consider their choices. Namgyu hadn’t thought of anything except for Thanos and what they might do with the money. 

The night cannot possibly pass slower. His crazy person room only gets colder as the morning approaches. Everytime Namgyu makes an attempt to sleep, he sees Thanos, and he opens his eyes again having learned well from his first try that keeping them shut only shows him more that he’s missing. The cross sits on the pillow like a prized jewel in a fancy store, or maybe a wedding ring stuck in a cushy little velvety case. It shines, and the shadows it casts change as the moon moves and eventually descends to make way for the sun. 

Namgyu knows he must have deep dark circles beneath his eyes when he starts to hear the nurses doing morning rounds. He has not had a wink of sleep, and it is not at all because of his recent experiences— it is because he is stuck in this pointless place. 

“Namgyu, hello, good morning,” His nurse says, greeting him along with the slow creak of his door opening. It’s a female voice that Namgyu doesn’t even recognize. It’s not the same nurse as before? The light from the hallway comes in and lays over the cross, golden and bright after a long night of dust forming and icicles growing. Namgyu does not say hello back, nor does he look over at the nurse. 

“Have you been awake for a while Namgyu?” The nurse asks, concernedly. Namgyu does not respond. If she’s smart enough to get her answer from the way he’s sure he looks, she should stop the line of questioning right there. Sure enoug: “You haven’t slept at all, have you?”

The nurse comes fighter into the room and crouches next to the bed to shove herself into Namgyu’s eyeline. Her eyes meet his over the cross. Namgyu jolts, grabs the cross up from the pillow and turns onto his other side.

”I’m sorry about your bad sleep, Namgyu,” The nurse says, her voice rising as she must stand up. Namgyu does not respond. 

“Would you like to come have some breakfast? You must be quite hungry if you didn’t sleep,” The nurse says. “We will have breakfast in the quiet room since you have been physical to your fellow patients.”

”Oh my god,” Namgyu whispers. And he knows he must sound like a twelve year old brat, but he’s tired of this place and it has only been two nights. They might as well have thrown him back into the games. It's not as if he has better things to do. 

”You’re going to need your energy Namgyu. Today you have a check in with your victim services officer,” The nurse says. “She’ll be coming this afternoon.” 

”Not that bitch,” Namgyu mutters. 

“I’m sorry?” The nurse asks, as Namgyu sits up and rubs his eyes. 

“Why are you here and not the guy from before?” Namgyu asks. The nurse still looks caught off guard by what he said before, but she straightens herself and clears her throat. 

“Ah, actually, he was not your assigned nurse. I’ll be helping you from here on out,” the nurse explains. Namgyu lets his hands fall to the bed and stares her down.

”You’re the third one. The guy from yesterday barely talked to me. The one from the first day is the only one who knows how to do his job,” Namgyu says, as he picks up the cross and picks at the detailing. 

“I’m.. sorry to hear that your nurse yesterday wasn’t much help. We found that it would be best if he moved on to a different patient. And unfortunately the nurse who helped check you in is just too busy with his assigned patient,” The female nurse says. 

“Sounds like a load of bullshit,” Namgyu says. “You kicked the guy from yesterday off because he wasn’t there when I tried to choke Minsu out, yeah? Do I really have to see the officer? She said she was going to come yesterday and she didn’t.” 

“Well. She did come by yesterday, but because of your… altercation.. with Minsu, she left and said she would come back today. She thought you needed to wind down,” The nurse says. She does not address Namgyu’s theory about his second nurse being an incompetent asshole that just lost his job. Namgyu imagines it can’t be good if you let your patient attack somebody else while you’re off sipping coffee in the break room. It had been the other male nurse from the first day, the one who had brought him the cross, he had been the one to pull Namgyu off of Minsu. 

“She knows about that?” Namgyu asks, flatly. “She’s going to sentence me to life in this place.”

And then, the nurse has the gall to say: “Who’s fault is that, exactly, Namgyu?” 

What the fuck? 

“Are you serious?” Namgyu asks, but the nurse doesn’t look ashamed of her wording. There is no flush on her face, no visible regret in. Her body language. Normal nurses would have said something like: time in here is not a sentence, Namgyu. Or: this isn’t prison, Namgyu. 

“I was told that more harsh language works better with you,” The nurse says. Namgyu only stares at her open-mouthed, until it is clear that she is not going to say anything else. 

“Alright, do you have to escort me to breakfast?” Namgyu asks. 

“I sure do,” The nurse confirms with a nod. 

Namgyu does not reply. He shakes his head in disbelief and mumbles something cruel under his breath, before running a hand through his hair and lifting himself up from the bed. The cross remains gripped in one of his hands. Its cold metal digs into the skin of his palm and fingers, leaves dents in him like he is only clay. The nurse gestures for him to follow her.

She lets him stop at the bathroom to brush his teeth and do other such necessary morning things. And after that, he is taken to breakfast in ‘the quiet room’ which should actually just be called the empty room. If he had known he would be completely isolated like this he’s not sure if he would have attacked Minsu. It’s not so nice to be closely watched this way, too. He has the nurse’s eyes on him with every bite of his meal. It’s almost worse than the cameras that had been pointed at them all throughout the games. At least the nurse’s eyes are actually visible, not hidden behind a shape and a gun. 

Namgyu thinks, if it hadn’t been so cathartic to wrap his fingers around Minsu’s neck, he really wouldn’t have done it. He had had free reign of this place yesterday, and a nurse that didn’t give a shit where he was or what he did. Had it been a good trade to reduce Minsu to deathly raspy breaths? A blue face and dim sleepy eyes? Had it been worth Namgyu’s freedom and- depending how his conversation with his officer later today goes- his chance of getting out of here when this week ends? 

Namgyu thinks of the moment Minsu had thrown the cross. Thrown that last piece of Thanos out onto that death bridge. The metal ‘rope’ threatening to knock it off, an optical illusion, of course. It was truly swinging too high to even touch the tiny cross. but Namgyu had felt a panic run through him then, a deranged electricity that had him grabbing Minsu by the jacket. He should have just thrown Minsu off, right then. What gave him the right to force Namgyu out first. Namgyu should have made Minsu fetch it. Should have done anything other than what he had done. He ran out like a fool, jumped higher than he should have, exhausted himself, felt the metal bar trip him, landed hard, and then expected not to land at all. 

He knew it would all end as soon as he hit the ground. He had prepared in the few seconds he had, his body went limp, his mind blank, he was sure he would be greeted with an excited face, purple hair, painted nails, lots of bright colours. He was sure. 

Instead, he had landed in that giant net set up in advance by the crazy people that had infiltrated the place. And when the buzz of his incoming death had dissipated, replaced instead by the real rope of the net scratching and carving into him, Namgyu had been horrified to see that he was in fact completely fine. Staring up at the platform he had just been stood on, the fake jump rope continuing to swing in great big circles, the aggressive whoosh of air it pushes descends down and sends Namgyu’s hair back, tangling in the netting. It looks almost more terrifying from below, the giant mechanism, the huge statues holding it all up, it looks as though it might all fall on top of him now. And Namgyu feels his brain so all fuzzy with the shock of it all. His fall had only been a few metres when the net had come out and caught him, and now he feels the net descend, taking him with it, all the way to the pristine flower-patterned floors of the arena. And then he feels a gloved hand grab at his ankle, drag him off of the net, and his vision blurs into nothingness. 

But, no, Namgyu feels none of that, he only feels the nurse’s eyes on him and the occasional beeping of a smoke alarm that needs replacing in this room. 

After he finishes eating, the new nurse says that he has a few options to fill his time before the victim services officer comes by. He is not happy to hear that he no longer has any semblance of garden privileges. 

“I can’t go outside?” Namgyu asks. 

“Not in the morning. It is simply too busy out there at this time of day and we would not be able to keep you adequately separated from the other patients,” The new nurse says, so monotonously that it is almost disturbing. Is he seriously that big of a deal? You attack one little prick one time.

”You let me into that group meeting!” Namgyu points out.

”The gardens aren’t exactly a space that allows for physical constraints like arm straps,” The nurse replies, easily. Namgyu balls his hands into fists.

”You can’t strap me to a fucking bench or something?!” He asks, before he can think about it.

”Do you wish to be strapped to a bench?” The nurse asks, in a way that sounds sincere but is actually completely fucking phoney. 

“No i- ugh!” Namgyu turns away from her, unsure how to continue. What the hell is he supposed to do now? How is this meant to be a place where he can ‘heal & grow’ or whatever else they want from him, when he is isolated? 

The nurse ends up suggesting that he spend some time in one of the recreation rooms. There is apparently a smaller one that is saved for organized rec therapy activities. Since it isn’t being used today, she takes him there and sets him up with a bunch of ‘outlets.’ There are various craft supplies including markers and paper in a few clear crates at one side of the room. The other side is dedicated to a surprisingly well labelled set of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Namgyu wonders why this room isnt just called the library. He walks over to it and begins to scan the labels. 

”Writing, reading, doing puzzles and other such brain stimulating activities can be super super helpful in calming and-“

”Yeah whatever lady can you fucking-“

”One of our new patients actually likes to write lyrics, doing something creative can be very-“

”Can you leave me alone? Please?” Namgyu interrupts again, crouching at the small section of the bookshelf labelled ‘history’. Shockingly, the nurse does shut up, and Namgyu uses the silence to really process the words he’s reading in his sleep-deprived brain. As a fan of Admiral Yi Sun-sin’s war diary, he wonders if he might find something similar here. 

It has been a long time since he has read consistently. But if the rest of his stay here is this lonely, he may as well pick up the hobby again. He has nothing better to do, and it's not as if the people in here would facilitate the activities he usually takes up in the outside world. The idea of going in for a shift at the club makes his stomach stir for some reason anyway. Something to deal with when he actually gets out, he supposes. But as soon as it’s on his mind, he can’t really steer himself off of it.

The flashing lights, the pounding music. He thinks of carrying trays of drinks over to various freaks and creeps, all on a spectrum of most to least interested in Namgyu. By the end of the night, Namgyu was often just as high or drunk as the club-goers, and he was usually just as fucked. Literally and figuratively. It was a life he had made the most of for several years now, practically since he was old enough. But now, the thought of hands wrapping around him and pulling him into a lap, the idea of a glass being pushed to his lips, a baggy being sneakily tugged from his pocket or swapped with rolls of cash, it all makes him nauseous. He freezes in front of the bookcase, no longer reading any of the titles. He thinks of Thanos under the lights of the club, doing all of the same things with him. And it makes him feel even sicker, in a different way, it makes his eyes sting and his jaw shake. 

Namgyu shakes his head and grabs a random book, eager to replace his train of thought with a different freighter. Ideally one that has nothing to do with his dead friend. The book is ‘The Memoirs of Hun Pong’ some Korean War story about some guy who served both sides. Namgyu doesn’t care what it is, even though he is pleasantly surprised by his random choice’s alignment to his interests. He sits down at one of the tables in the room and reads until lunch time. 

Lunch is quick too. Namgyu insists he does not want to eat, and it's the truth. He isn’t hungry at all. Probably a result of the exhaustion, or more likely the fact that he hasn't moved since breakfast. The nurse unfortunately does not take either of these reasons seriously, because she forces him to scarf something else down before she tells him his victim services officer has arrived. 

The new nurse guides him to the visitation room, where he sees two uncomfortable looking couches facing each other with a small coffee table in between them. His bitch victim services officer sits on one of the couches, and offers him a flat smile when she sees him enter. Nothing is said until Namgyu sits down on the other couch, and the nurse leaves the room. Namgyu notes that the door is locked when she leaves. They really have zero trust in him right now. He is surprised he was given the opportunity to take part in that group meeting yesterday. 

“Hello Namgyu,” The officer says. 

“You’re late,” Namgyu says. “This is awful. Get me out of here.”

The officer bites the inside of her cheek before taking a breath.

”Unfortunately Namgyu, you’ve made things harder for me. Harder for me to do that for you, I mean. surely you’re aware that attacking somebody was not going to get you out of here sooner, right?” The officer says, and suddenly everybody feels like they have the right to sass him like he is some kind of fucking evil high-security prisoner.  Namgyu does not reply to her, deciding that maybe if he cuts the sass she’ll do the same. 

The officer adjusts some papers on her lap, letting them fall into place. 

“We’ve poked around, and it seems like you do not have any family aside from your mother,” The officer says. “We’ve informed her about your situation, and she has made the decision to sign for you to stay here for a bit.”

Namgyu feels everything go cold again.

“What? What? She hasn’t even seen me? We don’t- she’s not- how can she possibly decide what’s good for me if she hasn’t even seen how I’m doing?” Namgyu asks, as he feels the tingly sensation of panic crawl up his body. 

“Well of course we told her how your first day went,” The officer says. “Not great.”

”Wh- you- this is-“ Namgyu stammers, then he brings both of his hands up to tear at his hair. The officer, seemingly instinctually, leans forward and tries to rip his hands away from his own head. Namgyu suddenly feels like this is actually where everything ends. Forget the bottomless pit he had looked down into before jump rope.  ”AGhh! Oh my god!” 

“Stop!” The officer says, concern suddenly evident in her voice again. What a great bad cop she has put on.

”I’m going to be here forever,” Namgyu cries, and he feels his knees shake, even sitting. He feels like an idiot. 

“That is just not true, Namgyu,” The officer says. “We will be checking in regularly, and if things change, you can expect to leave soon. It all depends on how you are doing.”

”I'm stuck.. it's over..” Namgyu decides, softly. 

“N- Namgyu its-“ The officer sighs. “You need to treat this as what it is. A healing experience. It’s an opportunity to fix up your mindset without the stress of the outside world. For now, you can just live and get better. That’s a good thing,”

”This is not good. I can’t even sleep here. It’s a nightmare. You put me in here with him,” Namgyu says.

“With who? Su-“ The officer starts.

”Minsu! Minsu! That fucking- you put me in here with that pathetic coward and you thought i wouldn’t try something? You’re insane. He tried to kill me. I had to do something. He’s a good for nothing druggie just like me. You should just kick us both out to rot and forget you ever knew our names,” Namgyu spits. 

“I’m.. I’m sorry, he tried to kill you? What are you referring to?” The officer asks, lifting up some of her papers and seemingly using them as a makeshift notebook. They look to be forms, but whatever he said must be so important that she wants to mark it down even over legal documents.  

“He tried to kill me. In the games. He tried to lure me into a death trap,” Namgyu says, every consonant sharp and every vowel slow. To accentuate the seriousness. “He would have succeeded if your colleagues hadn’t caught me.”

”You’re not lying to me right now?” The officer asks. Namgyu shakes his head and leans back on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. The lingering anxiety at the mention of his mother, her decision to keep him here, fades as the officer seems to take his words in. It’s only right. If has to stay, Minsu has to fucking stay too.  The officer writes quite a bit on the spacious corner of the forms. 

The officer gives a frustrated huff. “I wish those damn special agents told us more about what we were dealing with. Why are we in the dark about something like this?” 

Namgyu wonders then if she knows how many people he offed in there. If the officer thinks it's so bad that Minsu tried to kill him, how would she treat Namgyu if she knew he stabbed something like ten people to death. Namgyu can practically see the blue vest over her fancy pansuit, maybe an x badge over her nametag, a key dangling around her neck. He imagines her running through the tight hallways of the keys and knives maze, features pulled apart like putty with fear and confusion. Namgyu thinks of what Minsu must have looked like in there. A red vest to match Namgyu’s, shakily gripping the knife like it was going to end his life and not his victim’s. 

Which makes Namgyu think— actually. Minsu had needed to kill someone to get through that game. He HAD killed somebody. Namgyu has no idea who it was, hadn't paid any attention at all to the numbers being announced in there, too lost in the hazy joy of the moment. Dancing around and dripping off of Myunggi like he was somebody else. Like he was taller and brighter and more fun. 

Namgyu thinks of telling the officer that Minsu had actually killed somebody, but Namgyu knows explaining that would come with explaining his own bodies. 

Namgyu watches as the officer continues to write. And he thinks back to Myunggi in keys and knives. Thinks about if it had been Thanos in there. Namgyu wonders if he would have felt the same way about that game if Thanos had been there. If he had been vibrating with the need to act. Or if he would have been eager for other things. If whatever had taken over him when he was with Myunggi would have.. been different? Had it been Thanos? 

Namgyu hadn’t directly killed anybody until after Thanos. If Thanos had still been there, would Semi still be there? Would Namgyu have only killed who he needed to, to get through? Would he have sang and danced with Thanos through the maze, sharing a moment or two of crunching on some pills and leaning in too close? Would they stop to relax for a bit? Spend ten minutes killing two guys, then, spend twenty sitting and staring at the drawings on the walls? Maybe carve their own in with their bloody knives?

Or maybe. Maybe Thanos would have been a blue vest. And Namgyu could have escorted him like a fairytale knight. could have defended him and had a nice righteous reason to kill somebody, and come out on the other side some shining hero. He thinks of Thanos in blue, cheering him on as he took a blade through Myunggi’s gut. But then.. could he have done that? Was it against the rules for Namgyu to have killed another red vest? Namgyu feels his brain grow muddled, and he blinks hard, the visions of the maze disappearing, replaced with the curious expression of the officer.

”Namgyu?” The officer asks, and Namgyu hopes he hadn’t just been fucking staring out into space like a crazy person. He is seriously going to be in here forever. 

“Why doesn’t the rest of your team tell you more about what happened? Why don’t you know what we did?” Namgyu asks, as sincerely as he can muster. The officer looks slightly taken aback. 

“Namgyu, we’re trying our very best to understand the situation- but because it’s under such heavy lock and key, we have to work around-“ The officer tries. 

“Nono, stop. Aren’t you part of it? Weren’t you helping? Why don’t you know anything?!” Namgyu asks, feeling bubbles begin to rise in his blood. “You said they were in there since mingle? Why don’t you know anything?!” 

The officer puts her papers face down on the table, presumably so that Namgyu can’t read her notes. This only frustrates him more. She puts her hands out to calm him. 

“It’s- complicated! It’s a massive situation that the government is dealing with. We are on very strict orders to keep things under wraps,” the officer explains. 

“Under wraps from the people that are supposed to support the victims?! I don’t understand!” Namgyu pulls at his own hair again, grinds his teeth together. “Why do useless suits get to know but you don’t!” 

“They don’t trust us Namgyu, it’s too big. If we know too much, we accidentally say too much to hospital staff, hospital staff passes it on to family, friends, suddenly all of SK knows, then the world,” The officer rambles. “Please stop hurting yourself.” 

Namgyu takes his hands away from his head. 

“Why shouldn’t the world know?!” Namgyu stands up, straight and stiff as a board, energy coursing through him with a suddenness that makes him dizzy. He jolts downward at the coffee table and smacks the papers up into a flurry of white. They fly everywhere and float down onto the floor. The officer only looks at him and waits for him to relax, an unimpressed expression on her face. Namgyu grunts, huffs, refuses to settle. 

“I’m on your side here, Namgyu. We know enough. Just not the details of each and every one of you,” The officer offers, when there seems to be no end to the fit. Namgyu winds his leg back and kicks the leg of the coffee table. The officer winces. Namgyu shouts. The coffee table rattles with the impact. 

“If you were on my side you would let me out of here!” Namgyu shouts, and his throat feels rough, his face feels hot. He feels the intensity of the last several days start to eat at him physically once more. Whatever refresh the hospital stay had offered him was completely gone with a sleepless night in the psych ward and the horrible memories contaminating his mind. “You have to listen to me.” 

“Namgyu, we're doing everything we can to make the transition back to every day life as seamless as possible,” The bitch says. “For all of you.” 

“STOP grouping me in with him! He’s a fucking idiot who should’ve died in the first fucking game! I don’t want to see him!” Namgyu says. Just the thought of Minsu’s face makes the rage bubble up again. Namgyu feels hazy, he collapses backwards onto the couch, and places his face in his hands. 

“Namgyu, we’re now aware of that. The nurses have informed me that you are being kept apart for the time being. You’ve even been given the luxury of a private room,” The officer says. As if that isolated freezer is any luxury. 

“What are you talking about?!” Namgyu asks, through his hands, his voice muffled and silly. “They put me in that group meeting with him.” 

“Well I was also told that you took that opportunity in stride, Namgyu,” The officer says, to his horror. Namgyu groans. “The nurses tell me you offered up some sensitive information about your experience. You can’t have been so bothered by Minsu’s presence. Don’t you think you two have a lot in common?” 

“I was fucking threatening him. I was telling him indirectly that I wished he died,” Namgyu says. “How fucking stupid are you people.” 

“You said a lot more than that. You admitted your anger and your resentment, and you even talked about your loss. I think if you go at the rest of your stay with that same attitude, you’ll find some success,” The officer says, with a tone of finality. 

Namgyu lets his hands fall from his face, he looks up at her across the table. The officer sighs and slaps both of her hands lightly on her knees, standing right after. 

“You’re free to go. Please try a little harder to take the opportunity to feel better while you’re here. I will come to check in at the end of your week,” The officer says. She gestures for him to head towards the door, and she bends down to begin picking up the papers he sent flying everywhere. Namgyu does not move from the couch. 

The officer finishes picking up all of the papers while Namgyu sits and stares straight forward. Once the task is complete, she sighs again upon seeing he is still there, and she walks over to the door. She stands there, facing him, papers held against her chest with one arm, the other moving to knock on the door. Namgyu turns and watches as the nurses open it at the queue, and let the officer out into the hallway. She looks back at Namgyu one time, and then continues on her way.

Namgyu does not leave the couch until he is physically pulled off of it by this new female nurse he is supposed to get used to having. She practically drags him back down the hallway to his room, which he is a little bit surprised about.

“Would you like to continue reading, Namgyu? You’re allowed to take your book back to your room if you’d like,” The nurse suggests, as she closes his door behind him. “I can go and get it for you. I can fetch a bookmark as well.”

”It’s the only thing I’m allowed to do anyway so I don't know what you expect me to say,” Namgyu says, as he sits down on his bed. 

She does not reply to him, but she does leave and return with the book and bookmark. The bookmark is one of those threaded ones, with loose dangling pieces at the end to hang out of the book. It is purple. 

Namgyu sighs and lays down on the bed, turning over onto his stomach when the nurse bids him goodbye. She tells him she’ll return to deliver him dinner later, and she says something about enjoying his book. Namgyu sets the book down open on his pillow and resumes reading, but he pauses to pull the cross out of his waistband and place it next to the book. It sits in his peripheral vision while he reads. 

The hours pass quickly, and the book does a good job at making that happen. It is also extraordinary at making sure he isn’t plagued by any nauseating thoughts over the course of the afternoon. He becomes completely swept up in the world of this poor man who is captured and made to fight for North Korea. 

Namgyu is forced to eat again, this time in the solitary quiet of his room. The nurse thankfully does not stay to awkwardly watch him this time around, and she only returns to get the tray and prompt him to come wash up before bed. 

It is after that that he finds himself again in the same place as the previous night. The cold moonlit room with only himself and the cross as company. The story that had taken up most of his day is lost with Namgyu’s attempts to sleep. When the book is not open in front of him, it does not have the same power to cleanse his thoughts. When he tries to think of the man and his experience with the atrocities of war and the complexity of his own allegiance, Namgyu’s mind takes off running with memories from his time in the games. Shockingly, he is faced with Semi, Gyeongsu, and Minsu. He sees them all sitting around Namgyu on the bunk beds stairs, all looking to Thanos for leadership. He is poisoned by the memory of that brief time of confidence. There is a real pain in his chest when he thinks of it. A team. One that Thanos seemed to believe in a lot more than the rest of them. 

Namgyu once again wonders how things may have turned out had Thanos made it through that brawl. If Myunggi hadn’t played dirty. The idea of him there with them preparing for Keys and Knives. 

Speaking of keys.

Namgyu’s eyes fly open when he hears the jiggling of a key in his door. The metal on metal is not usually so drawn out. The nurses are used to the shitty locks and they know just how to turn it to get the door to open immediately. Maybe it is because Namgyu hasn’t slept in over 24 hours, but he is instantly nervous. The cross shines in the dark room, and he doesn’t think when he grabs it, sits up, and points it at the door. 

The door opens slowly, as if somebody is trying to make sure it doesn’t squeak or squeal. It is silent, and the light from the hallway shines around the intruder. The person in the door is not a nurse, Namgyu can only just see the outline of the Psych ward pyjamas on the dark silhouette. Fantastic. He has some fucking crazy breaking into his room at night to kill him. Probably some lunatic that got put in here because he tried to murder his dad. 

Namgyu knows he is shaking, but he can’t help it when the shadow in his doorway enters and shuts the door behind him, trapping the both of them in Namgyu’s cold blue room. 

Namgyu’s eyes adjust in the darkness, as the person raises a hand up to their mouth in a ‘shhh’ motion. Interestingly, no sound comes out when they do so. The fuzziness of the darkness slowly fades to reveal the identity of the person in his room, and Namgyu makes out the messy purple hair pointing in all sorts of directions. The tattoos, the chipping nail paint, the face. 

”I’ve actually lost my mind,” Namgyu concludes, in a shivery whisper. He drops the cross onto the bed and lets his arms come to his sides. Thanos takes a step closer, into the moonlight coming in from the window. It shines on him as he breaks into a smile and waves. 

Chapter Text

After dinner and washing, Thanos greets the evening with great excitement. A result of the treasure he has acquired, of course. The morning had been a bummer, for sure. Minsu is acting completely wrong, and Thanos is still struggling to understand the missing pieces. He knows there are patches of memory that he needs to sew up, and he knows now that Minsu obviously sees things quite a bit differently than he does, but any positivity he had at being reunited with Minsu had been stomped on and squashed today. Minsu seems to want nothing to do with him. 

This disappointment is wiped away when Thanos finds the custodian closet completely unlocked. Practically begging for him to snatch up some keys. The shitty recreational therapist and his hunky male nurse are perfectly irresponsible and neglect to pat him down or even ask him if he has anything other than the granola bar. And if his only payment for this glowing opportunity is to spend the rest of the day in his room? He’ll take it with a smile. 

So dinner is just spent pretending to be sulky alone in his room. And while he does all of his evening washroom tasks he can only think of what’s ahead of him. He heads back to his room practically vibrating, ready to take on the night. The custodian’s backup keyring, one of many, sits safely on the far corner of the floor beneath his bed. 

All that matters, all he knows, is that if Namgyu is actually here: Thanos will find him tonight. 

Thanos has not seen Minsu since their talk. And if he had to guess, Minsu probably spent the whole afternoon sitting in the garden or something equally Minsu-ish. Thanos has nothing against sitting in the garden, but there were bigger things to do in this place. He hasn't decided whether Minsu was lying to him before or not, and maybe he was impacted pretty brutally by the games. Maybe he has short term memory loss or something. But Thanos is sure he heard the nurses say Namgyu’s name. He is sure he heard them say something about him attacking Minsu. And as disappointing as that is, I mean really, they’re supposed to be a team, Thanos had seemingly missed a couple days of action. For all he knows, Minsu started it.

The evening can’t possibly go by slower. Thanos sits in his room, atop his bed, staring at a blank page of his notepad for what must be a couple of hours. He waits as patiently as he can for the noises of the ward to die down completely, for the nurses’ bedtime checks to end. He knows they’ll keep checking through the night every once in a while, so he has tried to think out a route as best he can with his memory of the place. Hopefully he can be efficient, because he is pretty sure he only has one chance at this. If they catch him with the keys he’ll never be trusted in any way ever again.  

Minsu finally returns to their joint room just before the final verbal check-in from the nurses. After this they will come by silently. Thanos hears the door on the other side of the dividers open, and Minsu says a quiet goodnight to his nurse. Unsurprisingly polite, despite the circumstances. Thanos has to assume that he is just trying to get out of here as soon as possible. No doubt putting on the picture of a positive outlook for a better chance to be discharged early. Thanos can respect it, but he has something up higher than discharge on his priority list. At the moment, he can’t even fucking talk. So he’s not sure what he’d do if he were to be let out right now anyway. He really sympathizes with people who can’t talk now. It’s proving to be especially challenging when he doesn’t know a lick of KSL. 

When the door shuts again, Thanos hears Minsu sigh and take a few steps. Thanos expects to hear the sound of him shuffling into bed, the rustle of sheets and covers, the removal of slippers. Instead, one of the curtains on the dividers is pulled open. Minsu faces him. Thanos lets his notepad fall to his chest, and he pulls himself up into a sitting position, looking questioningly at Minsu.

”Listen Thanos,” Minsu says. And Thanos hadn’t thought Minsu would have much more to say to him. He had truly thought that Minsu would only look at him or speak to him if he was told to. Forced to, like this morning. Thanos thinks maybe that recreational therapist had been better at his job than it had seemed. Not good enough to give them an activity where they could equally participate, but good enough to make Minsu want to speak to him.

Minsu steps through the curtain, and lets it falls behind him. Upon watching him just stand awkwardly while attempting to find his words, Thanos leans over ad pats the end of his bed. Minsu’s eyes dart over to where his hand hit, and he reluctantly walks towards it. He sits down on the very edge of Thanos’ bed, and he latches his hands together in his lap. Thanos has no choice but to wait for him to say something. He has no idea what it might be. 

“Do you remember how you… acted? In there?” Minsu asks, softly, slowly. Thanos stares for a second, before sighing and grabbing his marker from his lap. 

‘I really didn’t mean to scare you,’ Thanos writes. And he tries to think of other things that may have bothered Minsu. ‘It was wrong of me to tell you what to vote. But you were giving up so much money Minsu.’

”We were sentencing people to death by voting blue,” Minsu says, tearily. Thanos does not know how to respond to that. 

’I could say the same thing about voting red. I was going to die outside anyway,’ Thanos writes. 

“I… understand that. But it's different. We were being gunned down,” Minsu says, as if Thanos didn’t know that. Thanos bites the inside of his cheek as he writes the next thing. “We weren’t just voting for ourselves.”

‘Minsu i was honestly too high to care,’

”I understand that too. When I tried it I.. I saw how you might have had no problem staying. Making people stay. It all seems trivial when you’re like that,” Minsu says, in a way that sounds just like any first-timer. Thanos is almost endeared.   

‘So if u get it why are you scolding me?’ Thanos writes. Which earns a huff and a head scratch from Minsu. 

“I.. I don’t even know what I’m saying. I ended up voting blue again without you there,” Minsu admits. And Thanos does find that compelling, but at the same time he has noticed the silence outside and he’s growing antsy about getting out of here and accomplishing his mission. His eyes dart back and forth between Minsu and the door. 

“I think I understand how those drugs can mess with you. How they can make you see things differently. I just want you to know I don't blame you, for what happened to Gyeongsu,” Minsu says. And that pulls Thanos right out of his eagerness to leave. 

“…What?” Thanos asks, suddenly feeling sort of cold. 

“I know I’ve been hostile, but I don’t… I don't know you. I didn’t know who you were outside of those pills.. I had no way of knowing if you meant to do it all.. or.. or if you were like me,” Minsu says. “Or.. I guess. I guess I might be worse than you. I think. I think I might be the worst of all.” 

Thanos’ brain feels completely scrambled. What the hell is he even talking about? He writes that thought down.

’What the fuck are you talking about?’ He rips the page out and smacks it against Minsu’s arm. It falls down to the bed and Minsu picks it up and reads it. His eyes squint at first before opening wider than before. Like a moment of realization. 

“That’s a problem too, I don’t know how to- you don’t-“ Minsu sighs and pinches his nose. “I’m sorry. You missed a lot and I can’t possibly explain any of it to you.” 

‘Well can you fucking try?’ Thanos writes, and once Minsu has read it he writes again. ‘I have shit to do tonight.’ 

Thanos thinks he can probably trust Minsu not to squeal. It is not as if he seems overly fond of the nurses. Minsu looks confused, he looks at Thanos with a pinched up face, all scrunched up and judgy. Thanos hates when people look at him like that. And he thinks that Minsu wouldn’t have dared to look at him like that before. He almost misses when Minsu had been folded over himself all frighty. Only looking at Thanos with big eyes and nervous swallows. 

“What could you possibly have to do tonight?” Minsu asks. 

Thanos decides to show him rather than tell him. He pulls himself up off of the bed and stretches. He places the notepad and marker down on the covers before getting down on his hands and knees on the floor. Minsu gasps.

”What are you doing?!” He whisper shouts, and sort of jolts backwards in place, a hand and a leg coming up as if Thanos is about to jump off the floor and bite at him. Minsu is funny. Thanos does not respond and lowers himself to basically lay on his stomach on the floor. Then, he pulls himself under the bed in an army crawl, thankful that the cleaners do a good enough job that it's not too dusty, and a bad enough job for the keyring to still be there. Thanos reaches out once he is close enough and retrieves the keys. 

When he gets back out from under the bed, he settles himself on his knees and holds the keys up at Minsu’s face. He shakes them so that they jingle a little bit, for emphasis, but then thinks better and grabs them with his other hand to silence them. 

”What?” Minsu asks, breathless. “Are you trying to escape? Where did you get that?” 

Thanos gets up and sits back down on the bed, rubbing at his neck for a moment before picking up his things and writing. The keys sit between his knees. 

‘Custodian’s closet,’ He writes first. Minsu doesn’t have anything to say to that, he just looks at Thanos, open mouthed. Thanos writes again. ‘I’m going to find him.’

”Find..” Minsu seems to think on that for a second before seemingly realizing. He looks vastly uncomfortable then, as if the idea of Namgyu had completely shifted his mood. And Thanos isn’t sure how to take that. He knows Minsu knows something. Whether it's that Namgyu is dead or that he’s in here, Thanos isn’t sure. The weird face he’s making could be one of guilt and worry, thinking that Thanos is only going to be disappointed. Or it could be nervousness that Thanos is going to get on his ass about lying to him. Thanos supposes he will find out tonight. 

‘I was going to go after their last check, but you wasted a bunch of time and now I need to wait for the next one to get the optimal window,’ Thanos writes, fast. He knows his printing looks like shit, but it’s like the last thing that matters right now. Minsu’s eyes scan the text before he furrows his brows at Namgyu and gets up from the bed. 

“You’re going to be in here forever if you pull something like that,” Minsu says, as he heads towards the divider. Thanos notes that he looks infinitely more comfortable than he ever had before. Probably a result of Thanos humiliating himself by getting down on the dirty floor and fucking pulling himself over it like a worm. Or Minsu is just putting on a brave face and avoiding the topic of Namgyu, for one reason or another. Misnu pulls the curtain open and looks over his shoulder. “Good luck.”

And with that he lets the curtain fall again and they are divided. Thanos does hear Minsu crawl into bed this time, and Thanos thinks it's smart to probably follow his lead. After the nurse’s next check, he’ll have a full hour before their next one. An hour to check as many rooms as he can, as silently as he can. 

Thanos slots himself between the sheets and the covers, and he places his notepad and marker on the side table. He holds the keyring in his hands beneath the covers and turns on his side to face the wall. He waits patiently, although he is still shivering with excitement, for the nurse to open the door and look him over.

It comes sooner than he thinks, and he hears his door creak open. The nurse only takes a moment to look at his form in bed, and then she moves onto Minsu’s door. Thanos stays still while she checks him from the doorway and then leaves. Thanos still does not get up until he hears her pass by again a few minutes later, having checked the rest of the rooms down this hallway. The check is over. His time is now. 

Thanos gets out of bed and rearranges his two pillows under the covers to act as his body if he does not get back in time. He also grabs the extra pair of ward pyjamas from a bin at the end of the bed to bunch up with the pillows and hopefully make it more believable. He snatches his notepad and marker from the side table and shoves them into his waistband, frustratedly. Another thing he needs to carry if he wants any chance at communicating with Namgyu were he to find him. Then, he turns to his door and prepares himself. He takes a deep breath, clutching the keys in his fist so that they do not jingle when he brings them up to the doorknob. 

He unlocks his own door and opens it just slightly to first check the hallway. He looks left and right, ducking backwards a little bit to hide behind the door. He sees nobody. And he hears nobody. The flickering flood lights are just the same as the night before when he had spoken with the custodian. The hallway looks almost green in the strange lighting, and Thanos thinks it's now or never.

He slips out into the hallway, closing his door behind him as quietly as he can. It latches almost silently, and he makes his way in the opposite direction of the welcome desk. It is his best bet to not get caught, although he has absolutely no clue where Namgyu’s room might be. He could be on the other side of the ward, if he is even here at all. 

Thanos makes his way to the door past Minsu’s door, and he is unhappy to find that none of the rooms have windows. He is seriously going to have to open and shut every fucking door. He bites his lip and opens it, greeted by three patients he does not recognize. Luckily, they all sleep deeply, probably used to the nurses coming in and out of their rooms at night. The snoring is ridiculously loud too, which is good to cover up the noise of the door, but probably not good to keep hidden from the nurses. If they hear some overly loud snoring that implies a door may be open, they’d be over here in no time. Thanos feels glad that all three of the patients’ faces are facing him so that he can quickly identify them and leave. If there is anybody he needs to come in and turn over, he might be screwed. 

Thanos backs up from the door and quietly shuts it, moving on to the next. The room across from his and Minsu’s is also for two people, but this one is not divided nor does it have two doors. Thanos easily checks over their faces and closes their door. The next one is another three person room, and this time he has to go in and slyly try to look at the person facing the wall. He nearly swears when he sees that it is not Namgyu, and he ducks out of the room as quickly as he can. None of the patients stir, and there are still no nurses in the hallway. Thanos’ heart is pounding. 

The next room has only one person in it, a luxury private suite. Thanos is not happy that it is not Namgyu, but he is happy that he only has to glance at the person from the doorway to recognize that. He quickly skips past the custodian’s closet, although he does consider for a moment going inside to grab another keyring. He decides in the same second that if multiple keyrings go missing there would probably be a bit of a problem. The staff would be way more likely to find them on him than they are right now. As far as he knows, the one he stole isn’t even on anybody’s radar. Completely unnoticed. 

The next two rooms each hold three people, and they are both unlucky searches. Both in the identities of the patients and in the way that they sleep. Thanos has to creep in and lean over virtually each of the six individuals to see that they are not Namgyu. They’re all skinny with long black hair. What are the odds? He guesses that Namgyu does look the type to end up in a place like this. Thanos moves on to the final room of this corridor, the final room of this entire side of the ward. If this isn’t Namgyu, Thanos will need to rethink the plan entirely and find some way to pass the welcome desk unseen. He’s not sure it will be possible.

This room is at the end of the hallway, with its door facing the big windows that are open to the gardens. The water cooler sits next to it, and the door to the stairwell is on the other wall. Thanos is not religious, despite his jewellery, but he does think some things happen for a reason. He thinks, if this room is Namgyu, it will have been destined. 

Thanos opens the door, struggling with the lock for a moment like he had with every room. He is shocked for a second when he is faced with the patient not laying down and sleeping, but sitting up and holding a familiar locket out to face him. Both hands gripping the cross tightly, knuckles visibly white even in the dull light of the room, limbs shaking. Thanos feels his whole body go warm with relief, he feels numb for every second it takes him to get inside the room and close the door behind him. 

It’s Namgyu.

It’s Namgyu, safe and alive and okay. His long black hair falls over his face elegantly, Curling a little bit when it reaches his shoulders, hiked up and tense. It sits in a way it hadn’t before, his overgrown curtain bangs tickling at his cheekbones. His expression is as if he is seeing a ghost, but his skin is shining and bright. It looks soft in the moonlit room, it looks cold, like Thanos should come closer and place his hands on either side of Namgyu’s face. Like he should touch him and let his skin turn pink and warm, like he should push his hair behind his ears like it had been when they first met. Both times they met. Namgyu looking all neat and tidy in the club, collared black shirt, fancy watch. Namgyu on the first day of the games, hair tucked back, skin clean and eyes hopeful. 

Thanos watches as the cross falls to the bed along with Namgyu’s arms, and the pyjamas the ward gives them, the ugly things, somehow look so cute and cozy on Namgyu. Thanos thinks of the ugly tracksuits they were made to wear before, and how they had looked similarly comfortable on Namgyu. How Namgyu had sort of made them his own by pulling up the bottom hem and pulling the white shirt out from beneath it. And when his hands hadn’t been in his pockets, they had been hidden in his sleeves. Thanos had just wanted to hug and squeeze him. Namgyu’s chest is rising and falling so quickly, just like how it had done before one of the games, excitement tugging at his muscles, beating from the inside to escape him. 

Thanos sees Namgyu’s lips quiver, and his eyes are covered in a thin sheen of wetness, shimmering like gems peeking out of the dull rock of a dark cave. Namgyu looks tired, dark circles beneath his eyes prompt a serious shove down into the covers. Thanos thinks of Namgyu placing his head on Thanos’ chest and letting his eyes fall shut all domestic-like, even in the disturbing bedroom of the games, they had found good fulfilling rest. Namgyu looks like he needs it again. Thanos itches to crawl in with him and hug him close, tell him to sleep. But they have too much to talk about. And not even kind of enough time. Namgyu also looks vaguely angry, not at Thanos, and not right at this moment, but it looks like it's just sort of pooling in him, just behind his eyes, just below his skin. He looks as though he has spent their days apart consumed by this anger. 

“I’ve actually lost my mind,” Namgyu whispers. And it comes out in such a vulnerable way, with his voice sort of cracking over it, struggling to get it out. Thanos just wants to hold him. The nighttime is heavy on his shoulders, and he feels the anxiety of being caught curl up in his gut. He can’t let this end. He needs to let this start. So Thanos steps forward, he smiles, and waves. Doing all three things with as much strength as he can. Namgyu does not smile or wave back, but he brings a hand up to place his knuckles against his lower lashes. Wiping a tear away. The cross sits in his lap. 

Thanos comes closer, relieved when Namgyu does not react in any poor way. No jumping or trembling or anything like that. Namgyu just sits and watches, and wipes away a few more stray tears from the same eye. He blinks rapidly, but his eyes do not leave Thanos. He watches and breathes in a sniffly way that one does when they cry, and he does not say anything else. Thanos sits down on the bed with him, a comfortable space between them, but not so far like Minsu earlier- practically falling off the goddamn bed. Thanos lets his smile soften, and he looks Namgyu up and down now that he is closer.

Namgyu continues to wipe at his eyes, now bringing both hands up at both eyes, and some tears slip down his cheeks, not stopped fast enough. Namgyu sniffs, bites his lip, tries to keep his eyes on Thanos through the tears. His skin grows pink, not from Thanos’ hands on his face like he’d imagined, but just from his presence in the room. Thanos had elicited tears. He doesn’t know how to feel. If it's good or bad. He just knows he should comfort him, but he can’t speak. Thanos slowly, as if asking for permission with the hesitance of the movement, leans forward.

He adjusts himself on the bed to pull himself toward Namgyu, leaning just close enough to do what he’d wanted to. Namgyu shows no signs of wanting him to stay far, nor does he pull away. He just continues to wipe at his face, now practically reflectant with the layer of tears. 

Thanos places a hand on his face, the wetness moving to his palm, he brushes his thumb under Namgyu’s left eye, the darkness seeming to fade just with the touch. It isn’t true, of course, it just sort of feels that way. Then Namgyu’s breath stops for a second, as they look at each other. Another tear slips down, this time stopped by Thanos’ hand. 

And, Thanos hadn’t realized it until now, but he thinks he is also crying. At least a little bit. He still doesn’t fully clue in until one of Namgyu’s hands comes up to do the same thing he had been doing. First, it runs up Thanos’ arm, stopping at his shoulder for a moment, as if only to ground himself. Then it comes up and skips his face, lands in his hair for a second or two. Pulling lightly at some tufts. Playing with the texture between his fingers, Thanos’ shitty dyed hair must feel like hay. Thanos watches as Namgyu’s eyes follow his own hand, watches as they dance around his head, lock in on each little bit of hair he tugs at. As if proving to himself that Thanos is really here. that this is real. Thanos thinks his voice might help drive in that point, but he can’t fucking offer that up right now, can he? 

Thanos realizes that the whirlwind of the last several days has left himself and, from what he is seeing, Namgyu as well— in a fragile emotional state. He thinks of the confidence and security Namgyu had shown off both at Club Pentagon and in the games, and he struggles to connect that same person with the man in front of him now. In the same light, he himself feels different. Dressed down in this wrinkled looney bin uniform, confused and hurt and without the thing he relies on to make both his art and his money, he feels unrecognizable too. In any other place, at any other time, Thanos is sure that both himself and Namgyu would appear different. Even through their suffering, Thanos has to imagine that Namgyu has been performing. Just as Thanos has. He is sure that none of the nurses have seen this Namgyu that he is seeing right now. He is sure they have been receiving nothing but rage, just as Thanos has worked hard to convey hardly anything but indifference. He feels that he and Namgyu are so similar in so many ways, and he thinks immediately, through tears, of their potential.  

Then, Namgyu’s hand comes to Thanos’ face, mirroring Thanos’ own action. Namgyu brushes his thumb back and forth the same way Thanos had been doing, and they’re just sort of sitting here and crying and staring at each other. The sensation of Namgyu’s cold hand on his cheek is like nothing else. It makes tiny little sparkles invade his vision, bordering his view. It makes him shiver, and he feels the tears escape from his own eyes, meeting Namgyu’s freezing cold hand. Just fucking sitting here crying on each other. Thanos knows that they are new people, but he feels quite similar to how he felt curled up with Namgyu in the games. 

Thanos lets the rest of his body come closer, sort of moving himself between Namgyu and the wall, they gaze at each other still, their eyes never leave each other. Namgyu’s other hand comes up to Thanos’ neck. The cold touch of his fingertips start first at Thanos’ collarbone, a ticklish kind of feeling that makes him smile, then they make their way upwards, brushing the way a feather would, and then rubbing with a little more force. Almost like Namgyu is going to grab him. Then his hand slides up to the bandages, and his fingers grow careful again, the touch barely anything through the white material. Namgyu lets out a soft breath, almost a question in itself.

Thanos can’t reply to him in any meaningful way aside from facial expression, so, as if to tell him he is okay, he settles into another smile. Namgyu’s eyes bump up to see it, pausing for a second before falling back down to the bandages. Clearly still concerned. His fingers continue to examine the bandages, considering each patch where they are layered, each area where the wounds are. Thanos feels a light pain each time Namgyu’s fingers graze over the sensitive spots, but he works hard not to wince or make Namgyu pull his hand away. One of his tears drips down to his pyjamas, making a small noise in the silence, and it catches Namgyu’s attention. He looks down at the tiny stain on the collar of Thanos’ shirt, and then he looks up again at Thanos’ face. Then, he brings the hand that had been touching the bandages up to Thanos’ other cheek, now holding both sides of his face so gently it makes the tears come even faster. The connection between them feels so unimaginably strong, like their togetherness is summoning something bigger than them. Thanos doesn’t know how this happened actually, how they formed this surreal bond. Thanos feels like he is awake again for the first time since the fight. He feels like a person again. 

Namgyu’s tongue touches the back of his teeth, or maybe the top of his mouth with a small ‘coo’ sound, like he is upset at the prospect of Thanos crying. But Namgyu must not know that he is crying just as much, if not more. It's like they’re both fighting to be the comforter, their own discomfort a subconscious thing when compared to their desire to comfort each other. The forefront of their brains taken up by the sight of each other. This new idea that maybe they have a future. To know each other again, this new each other. Thanos follows his lead and lets his own other hand rest on Namgyu’s other cheek. They both hold each other still like that, the blue room feeling a million times larger. The walls are far away. The bed beneath them is nonexistent. Like they sit in an ancient hall, with ceilings way up high and stained glass casting light down onto them, or a ballroom, with swinging chandeliers and twisting pillars. It feels like they are someplace magical, or otherworldly. Their being together again evokes a kind of wonder in Thanos that feels warm and bright. It feels like music and success and more than that. 

Thanos thinks they should talk. He knows they should talk. And he knows he can’t stay here forever and let the night, the wonder, the magic, whatever else he had called it, damn he had used some stupid words— take over. He feels more lyrical than ever, practically itching to let the words flood out. But he can’t speak. And he can’t write the way he speaks. He knows the words will lose meaning when they hit the paper, they will lack tone, emotion, rhythm. He can’t fully express to Namgyu what this feels like right now. He can’t tell him verbally and he knows the marker cannot encapsulate his feelings properly either. Not the way he needs right now. 

He doesn’t write poetry, after all. He writes things meant to later be said out loud. Nothing he puts on paper could ever be read in a way that would be more impactful than his voice. His lyrics are written for his voice to deliver. He can’t deliver anything to Namgyu right now. He physically can’t. The bandages that had just now tingled and tickled with Namgyu’s soft touch now burn. They burn with the knowledge of what they’re hiding. The evil wounds that stop him from telling Namgyu everything he needs to tell him. How he worried for him, how he only thought of him, how he really wished they would get out together, richer and happier and eager. How he thinks he looks so beautiful right now, and how he had looked just as beautiful in the club, in the games, snuggled up close to him, begging him for another pill all playful and silly. Crawling up near him and smiling with that viciousness he puts on, that protectiveness he let out each time Thanos invited somebody else in. 

Thanos wants to express his appreciation, somehow. For Namgyu’s companionship, his consistency, his truthfulness. He had been so real in Thanos’ eyes. Something to believe him and be believed in. A person just like him in a place that nurtured them to be their worst selves. Matching him in every way, like they were linked, like they were meant. Another piece of the whole situation that Thanos just felt was supposed to be. Like the timing of the salesman arriving at the bridge. And now, the both of them just the same, in a place that nurtures them to be their best. 

Thanos thinks of Namgyu’s huge pupils in the games, when Thanos could see his own face in them, and he knew they were locked in this hazy joyous little journey together. He had felt so loose and giggly, looking in those big black eyes and seeing himself look back. Another reminder that they were one in the same, their matching blue patches a mocking comparison. Nothing on their joint enjoyment, their joint high, their joint enthusiasm with each other. Now, Namgyu’s pupils are a lot smaller, and Thanos only sees him. Their partnership falls to the side in place of Namgyu’s individuality. His value. His survival, his strength. How had he made it here, Thanos wonders. What had happened in between the fight and now. Thanos looks down at Namgyu’s lap and sees the cross look up back at him. HIS cross. Namgyu had somehow kept it with him the whole time. Minsu, that lying wuss had told him it was dropped. That he had found it on the ground. 

He thinks now, as it practically glows between them, that that must have been bullshit. Namgyu had held it like a crucifix upon Thanos’ entry. He had held it with both hands like a weapon, like it was so special. Like how he holds Thanos’ face now, with both hands, like he is so special. 

“Thanos,” Namgyu finally says, a whisper, so much smoother than the first one. And Thanos wonders if Namgyu believes him. If he knows that Thanos is truly here, or if he thinks he is giving in to some great illusion. Thanos does not know how to prove it. He knows better than anyone what you can see that isn’t real. What you can neglect to see. Thanos does not know how to respond. Namgyu’s voice is so quiet, barely anything at all, but Thanos feels like it echoes all around him. Bounces off the walls of the hall, the ballroom, whatever magical castle they reside in. It swirls around him and pulls at the hairs on his arms, gives him the chills, tiny goosebumps. 

Thanos does the only thing he can do, he mouths Namyu’s name out. Slowly lip syncs it. And, he doesn’t mean to, but he pushes air through his mouth without using his vocal cords, barely a whisper. Like he was so desperate for Namgyu to hear him say his name, he had to speak for the first time in days. He hadn’t know that he was feeling this. He hadn’t known this was going on in his head. And he almost hears himself if he tries hard enough, although the pounding of his own heart and Namgyu’s huffy breathing fights to cover it. Namgyu seems to understand. He hears it or he sees it, and strangely, or maybe— rightfully, he sort of scrunches his nose and furrows his brows at his own name on Thanos’ lips. A reaction due to Thanos’ insistence on nicknaming him each time they were together before now? Was it too weird to use his real name now? Too formal? Too corny? Is it silly to worry about something like this when they’re holding each other like lovers? Did Namgyu even hear him right? Could he have noticed the difference between su and gyu at a nearly non-existent volume? Could he have possibly seen the may Thanos’ mouth had posed to form the G instead of the S? Did he even know? 

Suddenly it is the most important thing in the world. Thanos nearly feels a panic come over him. He realizes that he needs Namgyu to know. To know that he knows him. To know that he used his name, to know that he recognizes him right now. But before he can repeat himself, enunciate Namgyu’s name more clearly, Namgyu dips his head with a small bout of laughter. His hair sways downwards and hangs in a sleek waterfall of black. It covers Namgyu’s expression for these few seconds.   

“I miss you,” Namgyu says, in a way that sounds so honest, Thanos is immediately in pain. His chest caves in and his breathing stops for a second. The words so damning he feels real aches all throughout him. He can’t say anything. He can’t really tell Namgyu that he misses him too, but he mouths it and hopes Namgyu understands. Can he make it out in the dark? Thanos notes as well that the phrase is present tense, like Namgyu is mourning him. Like he doesn’t believe what he is seeing, or that he is still stuck in the mindset of the last couple of games. The ones Thanos hadn’t seen him play. 

Namgyu must understand his lip syncing, because he laughs a little bit, tearily, and drops his head again, fully to Thanos’ chest this time. His hands fall from Thanos’ face and they land on his shoulders. Namgyu’s forehead knocks lightly against him, and Thanos moves his hands accordingly, one on Namgyu’s hair and the other comfortingly placed on his shoulder. Namgyu’s small laugh turns into more tears, and Thanos feels them slowly seep through the psych ward pyjamas, to touch the skin on his chest. Cold and hot at the same time, he lets his fingers run through Namgyu’s hair and pet at the top of his head. He cherishes the closeness, but he grieves their eye contact. Just as soon as Namgyu’s eyes are gone from his sight he imagines them again. He just wants to tell Namgyu that he is here. He wants to make sure he knows that this is reality, and not some cruel dream. Thanos knows it's egoistic to assume Namgyu may dream of him, but Namgyu is also crying into his chest right now. One comes to certain conclusions. 

“Why’d you have to die, asshole?” Namgyu whispers. And the worst part is that it still sounds like he is speaking to himself. Like he doesn't believe for a second that Thanos is really in this room with him alive. He sits there with his head on Thanos like a person at the end of their rope. Giving up, or having already given up. Somebody who has simply accepted their tendency to see people that are already gone. Like Namgyu has just come to terms with Thanos’ presence here in the complete wrong way. He has found peace in treating Thanos like a figment of his own imagination. Thanos wants to do something more than this physical comfort. What must it feel like to be pet and supported by what you believe to be yourself? Is this not helpful at all? There is no truth to this for Namgyu? Thanos feels everything start to hurt. A strange pressure builds in his throat, like he might be sick or cry some more. Namgyu doesn’t let off. ”Why’d you fucking leave me with stupid fucking.. stupid..” 

Thanos tries to dig his fingers into Namgyu’s hair a little deeper, applies a little more pressure to his scalp as he Combs and separates his part. This makes no difference. Namgyu’s miserable words go on.

”That stupid bitch and her little friend. And the evil dick that carved your throat out..” Namgyu says into Thanos’ chest. And the way his voice goes through the material, it muffles it in a way that sort of pitches it up. Makes him sound all nasally and pathetic. “And I… I had to… with him in the maze and..”

Thanos doesn’t know what this means. He doesn’t know what the maze he refers to is, and he doesn’t know who ‘him’ is. Thanos can’t find it in himself to care much about it, aside from how it’s making Namgyu feel. He looks and sounds so beaten up, and Thanos thinks that whatever he is regretting, whatever situation he is contemplating, Thanos would like to push it out of his pretty head himself. He should never worry again. Not when he is here, curled up against Thanos like this. 

Minutes pass. And Thanos imagines them in several more beautiful places as he massages the muscles between Namgyu’s shoulder and his neck. He thinks, what if they were sitting outside on a pretty hill, and the moonlight was right above them instead of leaking in through the tiny window. What if they were in the wings of a gig venue, pink and purple lights similar to those of the club coming in from the stage in patterns following a beat. They would play across Namgyu’s face, make him glow and sparkle like glitter. What if they sat in Thanos’ apartment together, curled up in the living room watching the sun rise over the city after a night where they forgot to sleep. They would watch the tiny lights flick on in all the apartments in sight, watch as everybody else came to join the world they felt was theirs, silent in the early hours.  Thanos comes back to himself. The small private room of the psych ward. His temporary mutism. His favourite person’s tears finally drying up. His own, maybe not. 

“I would go anywhere,” Namgyu speaks up again. And Thanos doesn’t have to hear more to know what he means. He feels the same way. He would go anywhere too, he had just gone everywhere in his head. He could only dream of doing it all in real life. Anywhere with him. He knows it’s what Namgyu must intend to say. Anywhere together. Because things had seemed so possible, so simple, so easy, when they were together. It had been like the world bent at their will, like the danger didn’t exist and nothing else mattered. It had been like they were in control. 

“With you,” Namgyu finishes, although he doesn’t need to. And Thanos, at first, does not know how to tell him he thinks the same thing. He cannot vocalize it, and now Namgyu looks away from his mouth, he can’t nod or mouth it. He decides to bring his hand down from Namgyu’s hair and wrap both of his arms around his torso. He hugs him closer to him, if such a thing is possible, it’s tight and warm. 

And he just keeps hugging Namgyu to his chest, as Namgyu’s hands slip down from his shoulder to press against his chest. Not pushing him away but, making himself known. Namgyu shakes a little, sobbing drily, the tears having made their last stand. Thanos hugs him close until his muscles hurt, until his arms feel weak and his lungs feel loose in his chest. 

“How,” Namgyu asks, and— for some reason— it sounds like the way somebody may speak to themself. Namgyu says it is a tone that implies it is intended for only his own ears, and not Thanos’. It nails into him that Namgyu may still be doubtful. Thanos can’t think of a way to tell him he’s wrong. 

Thanos pulls backwards, finally, making sure to simultaneously support Namgyu’s head. He catches him in one hand and lets Namgyu straighten himself up again after the sudden movement. Namgyu takes a deep breath, as if expecting to look up and see nothing in front of him, but his eyes grow large and his mouth twitches when he sees Thanos still in front of him. Thanos leans down, quick to make Namgyu know why he has pulled away. He makes just enough space between them to pull his notepad and marker from his waistband. He then makes sure Namgyu is looking at him, directing his eyes from the notepad up to the bandages on his neck. 

Namgyu watches, eyes still big, but he looks sort of blank. As if he doesn’t know what to expect, or what to believe. And the dry tears on his cheeks are blue in the light, like icy rivers in a wintery woods. The paths they made down his face cut apart his features and highlight his uncertainty. He looks so lost, Thanos thinks there will never ever be a time to write faster. 

He opens the marker, the cap popping off with a sound that startles them both. Thanos brings the marker down to the blank page the notepad had already been flipped to, and he writes as quickly as he can. The first word the most important.

’Namgyu :)’ He writes, and turns the page around to show Namgyu. Namgyu squints in the dark, looks at the page for far too long, far longer than it must take to read his name. And Thanos smiles the whole time, so that as soon as Namgyu is looking up, he sees Thanos smiling. NO risk of being met with a frown or an unsure look. If one of them has to be certain and unmoving, Thanos can do that. Thanos observes his wide-eyed wet-lashed face for a moment before taking his notepad back down to his knee to write the bulk of it. 

‘I miss you too. I would go anywhere too. I’m real’ Thanos writes, needing to just say it as simply as he can. Get the point across before he runs out of time. Namgyu reads it slowly, his eyes stopping on every word. He looks up at Thanos, his breathing is shaky again. He still looks unsure. 

‘I was rescued from the fight, the same guys who rescued you. I thought you were dead. I’m so happy I was wrong.’ He writes, and he knows his writing must look like shit, but he tries a little harder than he had when writing for anybody else in this place. He knows Namgyu won’t be impressed with it, but he hopes it’s good enough for now. 

Namgyu reads it, and the explanation must do something to help the rationalization, because his face seems to light up a little bit. He looks as though he is starting to believe it all. His mouth is open like he wants to say something, but Thanos can see his tongue just sort of sitting there, like he can’t decide where it should go. So Thanos writes again. 

‘I heard them say your name. I thought you were gone. I had to find you. So I stole these keys and I looked,’ Thanos describes, hoping that the details would allow for a more strong connection to reality. Thanos brings the keys up to show Namgyu, but they hold Namgyu’s attention for only a millisecond before his eyes come back to Thanos’ own. Thanos hopes that Namgyu could make sense of it and see that this was true. Namgyu looks touched, he looks like now he doesn’t doubt Thanos’ presence so much as he doubts the sincerity. Thanos thinks that might be worse. 

‘I think we’re great and I think I couldn’t be here without you’ Thanos writes, and he hates it. It sounds so stupid. He wishes he had his voice. It’s too late to scratch it out and he knows Namgyu would just fight it. But before he shows it to Namgyu he purses his lips and adds a bit more. He can feel Namgyu’s eyes on him as he does it. ‘Couldn’t be anywhere without you.’ 

When Namgyu reads it, his tear ducts somehow find a way. Like a perseverant protagonist in an action adventure movie, they push out several more tears, and Thanos cannot help but reach forward and wipe them away. His chipping nail polish looks even worse in the darkness of the room, the colours blending together and all appearing to be black, the high contrast resulting in it being even more obvious how bad of a state they’re in. Thanos hopes the rest of him doesn’t look so bad. Not when Namgyu looks so perfect. 

“Can you believe Minsu is here?” Namgyu says, and it's choked out with a smile, an evil little grin if Thanos has ever seen one. Like Namgyu’s nature just sort of pushes through this tender moment they’re having. Like, despite the million things they need to discuss, Namgyu first has to rip on the poor weirdo Thanos had accepted into their little group. Thanos can’t help it. He immediately starts to laugh. It’s the first time his vocal cords have made proper noise in days, and it's horrible noise. He knows it sounds terrible, he feels his shoulders shaking with the tremors of his reaction. He knows it looks and sounds tragic. But he can’t help it. And when he opens his eyes again, Namgyu is laughing too, a silent body-jerking laugh that makes his cheeks get kind of red and puff up a little. 

“I need to tell you everything,” Namgyu says. And it’s the best thing Thanos could ever hear, ever. He wants no more than to sit here for the rest of the night and let Namgyu do just that. He wants to hear about every encounter good and bad, every little turn and twist of the last two games, every vote, and how his first days in this place have been. He wants to know how he’s doing, how he’s feeling. Thanos can’t remember the last time he thought about something like that, wanted to know something like that from someone else. He doesn’t remember needing so desperately to be updated, rambled to, storytold, ever. Not ever had he needed someone to ‘tell him everything’. But he’d welcomingly listen to Namgyu tell him every little detail of anything he wants. He’d listen to him talk about pain dry, happily. 

Thanos doesn’t bother writing all of that, because he knows it won’t come across the way he wants it to. He knows his written words don’t hold the same strength. So he just nods, and he smiles, he tries to look as supportive as he can, and he wonders how it looks on his face. He can’t recall ever having been this way with somebody. Namgyu’s face shifts then, into some reluctant happiness. Almost as if Namgyu is afraid to give in. Afraid to accept that this is true and real. Thanos is comforted at least by the idea that tomorrow, in the light of day, with the acknowledgement of the nurses, Namgyu will have no choice but to know he is here with him. 

“What do you want to hear first?” Namgyu asks, so quietly, but it’s clear that he’s so excited he can’t help but actually speak rather than whisper. His soft-spoken voice is so pretty, it’s raspy with the crying and it is trembly with his nervousness, but Thanos just wants to hear it forever. 

In truth, Thanos doesn’t care what he talks about first. Just that he talks. But they only have so much time. He decides there is no way to explain that without writing. 

‘Tell me how you’ve been feeling. Then I might have to go. I have to sneak back to my room before the next check,’ Thanos writes. And when Namgyu reaches the last two sentences, his face transforms into something deeply harrowing. He looks like he’s already mourning Thanos’ exit, or like he believes his leaving will be the last time he sees him. Or, when the door shuts, Thanos will just dissolve like any figment of Namgyu’s imagination would. 

Thanos, desperate to make that face go away, cups Namgyu’s cheek again, and Namgyu leans into it this time. 

“I’ve been feeling horrible. I’m so tired and.. I just feel like there is no hope for me,” Namgyu says. 

Thanos wishes he could fucking speak. He wants to tell him there’s a million things to be hopeful about. He can only frown, shake his head, and hope the point is conveyed.

“If you were really here I’d….” Namgyu pauses. “I’d do anything. I’d suck it up and spend a long time in this place if you were here with me.” 

Thanos tilts his head slightly, then lets his hand slowly drift from Namgyu’s face, making sure to give him a comforting smile when the touch stops, only really letting him go because he HAS to. To write. 

‘I AM here with you,’ Thanos writes, then points at the ‘am’ with his index finger. Namgyu sighs, it's a small thing, sad and unsure. 

“I’ve been awake for so long I don’t… I can’t trust myself,” Namgyu admits, in a way that is almost apologetic. In a way that Thanos is sure he would appreciate if he was conjured up by Namgyu’s mind. Which he is decidedly not. “If you were really here.. you wouldn’t be holding me like this..” 

‘Can you pretend to believe me? Just pretend for now? I promise you will see me tomorrow. For real.’ Thanos writes. And he knows that his writing has become so garbled and messy, he knows it’s rushed and horrible. But Namgyu reads it and pulls his eyebrows together like he’s trying not to cry again. 

“Pretend?” Namgyu whispers out. Thanos nods. Namgyu hesitates. Thanos pulls a few strands of his hair aside, tucks them behind his ear. Namgyu smiles a little bit, close mouthed. “You want me to just talk about how I feel?” 

Thanos writes again. 

‘Just a few minutes, I have to go really soon. But please believe me. I’m here. I’ll see you tomorrow. And the day after and after and after,’ Namgyu laughs a little at the haste with which he writes the last few words. The repetition makes his wrist ache a little bit. Thanos looks up at him again, dropping the notepad for what he hopes is the final time. He knows his face must be hopeful, because Namgyu nods and decides to pretend. 

“It's hard to pretend,” Namgyu tells him, still talking to him like he is only a vision. “You should be angry with me. You don’t know what’s happened. The things I’ve said.” 

Thanos shakes his head, but it’s true that he doesn’t know. He can’t imagine what Namgyu could be thinking of specifically. What he thinks would have angered Thanos. He can’t offer up any comfort, because he is just so out of the loop. 

“Whatever Minsu says…” Namgyu says, with gritted teeth, and a decided tone that reeks of nothing but malice. Thanos tilts his head a little at the sudden change, though familiar. It is wholly Namgyu, to scrunch up his face this way at the mention of the other man. Such proud hatefulness. Just lives to drag people down, doesn’t he? “Whether it’s true or not.. can you believe that I was just trying to live? I didn’t really… I wasn’t… on his side.” 

Thanos tilts his head further. Namgyu’s anger is overshadow now by a strict sense of shame. He looks angry still, but maybe more so with himself. He wants to grab his notepad and ask who Namgyu means. If he means Minsu. Which makes no sense. Or if he’s talking about somebody else. What would Thanos have to be angry about? 

“I was so gone.. I was very out of it. I saw him like.. I looked at him like he was you,” Namgyu says. And Thanos squints at him, wondering what the fuck he means. “I had already given in.” 

Thanks gestures for him to keep talking, eager to hear as much as he can before he has to leave. 

“I was feeling done. Like it was all over. Just the same as if I’d been fatally wounded like you,” Namgyu says. Thanos shakes his head, trying to emphasize the fact that he was alive and somewhat well. Namgyu huffs a bit of short laughter again, then continues. “I was acting like it was over too. Speaking like it was over. Acting with cruelty you don’t have unless you think it’s over. At least. That I don’t have unless I.. you understand.” 

Thanos nods. 

“I felt finished. And more than that, I felt changed. I’d never been so impacted by somebody leaving. Like you. I felt.. feel.. finished,” Namgyu says. “It felt final. I’ve just been hurting and hurting and waiting to be given the opportunity to stop it.” 

And Thanos knows how that feels. To wait for the moment it all goes away. To seek it out. To push for it. He aches to hear it all come out of Namgyu’s mouth. His whole body feels numb at the idea. The image of Namgyu in place of Thanos at that bridge. His pretty hair wavering in the wind, flicking into teary eyes. It makes him feel ill. It makes his throat close up. Thanos waits for him to go on. But they’re really running out of time. 

“If I could feel.. how I felt right now.. forever.. I’d never think like that again,” Namgyu says. And he says it like it’s impossible, like he’s truly pretending. That there’s no way in hell Thanos is actually here. Thanos wants to hear him say it with the full belief that he is really here with him. He wants to hear him say it like a promise, not a wish. 

Thanos cradles both sides of Namgyu’s face again, making sure his drifting eyes come to meet his own. They stare at each other for the last few moments they have. Thanos looks at him with such intention, he hopes with everything in him that it comes through. Namgyu looks at him in a way that tells him he feels the same wonder, the same strange magic. A way that implies Namgyu may also see them in some big ballroom. Some starry hill. Thanos mouths to him ‘you will’ and he hopes Namgyu can read it. He moves so slowly, every moment an exchange. More time with Namgyu, potentially more time in this place overall. 

Thanos lets him go, and he stands up reluctantly. As he slips off the bed, he lets his hands fall down to graze the cross. Namgyu’s eyes follow. He doesn’t want to leave. But he knows any second now he will hear distant footsteps approach. His hands feel cold at the loss, his legs shake as he pulls himself from the bed completely and heads for the door. His things all tucked into his waistband again. He looks back to see Namgyu looking at him with a face that says a lot of different things at once. 

Primarily, most importantly, there is love. There is something like love in his eyes, wide open and shiny again. And something like hope on his trembling lip. Namgyu has shifted to hold the cross again, both hands on either side of it. He is still sitting up in bed. Like he has no intention of attempting to sleep. 

Thanos makes a gesture, both hands together and leaning his head atop them. He mimes a person and their pillow. He shuts his eyes for a second to nail in the point. Namgyu laughs a little bit, a hand coming up to cover his mouth as he does so. Mission accomplished. He really wants to tell him sweet dreams and rest well and a gazillion other things, but as is his current reality, he can only smile back and open the door. 

He is halfway out into the hallway when he thinks to make a little heart with his fingers. The resulting laugh and smile will probably fuel him for the rest of his life. Thanos thinks of the Namgyu he met upon entering the room, freezing cold, shaky, confused, depressed. The one he sees now, bright, giggly, hopeful. Thanos will do the best he can to keep that Namgyu around as long as Namgyu allows. 

The door latches shut with a quiet click, and Thanos feels rejuvenated. There is an instant sadness that comes with reentering the empty hallways, a specific loss at being once again alone, but he also feels like he has the world ahead of him. He will see Namgyu tomorrow. If he gets back to his room successfully, that is. 

All is going well until he turns the corner near the custodian’s closet. The only corner he had to face, and of course as soon as he peeks around it he sees the same custodian from the night before, mopping away. 

Thanos jumps what must be a foot in the air, probably only making it far worse for himself as the custodian jumps too. The mop flying out of his grip before he catches it again. It makes no noise, luckily. But the custodian looks disturbed, he points at Thanos, then at Thanos’ room, then at Thanos again. 

“Wh- what the hell?!” The custodian whispers. “What are you doing out?!” 

Thanos thinks for a couple of seconds. 

‘Water,’ He tells the custodian, a quick word in his notepad. He throws a casual thumb over his shoulder as if pointing to the water cooler. He hopes it’s believable. He hopes this custodian will give him a pass. It’s the same guy he had the heart to heart with just a day ago. He must have some kindness left in him. Thanos hopes with everything he has that he can keep these fucking keys. 

“Water.” the custodian repeats, flatly. Thanos nods. 

“How?” The custodian asks. “The doors are locked.” 

‘They left mine unlocked by accident,’ Thanos writes, unsure how he’s going to be able to get back into his room now without the custodian noticing him unlocking it with the key he stole FROM HIM. Jesus Christ. 

“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it,” The custodian says, with suspicious eyes. Thanos breathes a small sigh of relief. “But I’ll have to escort you back to your room.” 

Fantastic. 

Thanos follows the custodian as they head over past the few other rooms Thanos now knew the inner layouts of. Finally they come to Thanos’ door, and he is sort of impressed that the custodian remembered which one it was. Thankfully, the custodian reaches forward to check if the door is locked, and he doesn’t seem to question when it is. He must know they simply automatically lock when shut. The custodian simply pulls out his own keyring and unlocks Thanos’ door for him. 

“You better not make this a regular thing,” The custodian warns lightly, as Thanos heads past him into his room and crawls into bed. 

He doesn’t want to lie to the custodian. Thanos knows this will absolutely be a regular thing. 

Chapter Text

The newbie nurse is a huge fan of Thanos. The underground rap scene is for everybody, and as bubbly and careful as she might be, she adores sneaking into dingy bars and watching amateur artists give it their best shot! And sometimes, there are real standouts. She doesn’t pretend to have been around to see Thanos’ start, but she dedicates herself to being a fan and getting in with his scene. Thanos was anything but amateur, in her opinion. He had built an impressive fan base and a really great discography over the course of his career. She knows some people like to call him washed, or too old for it, or… various other similar insults. The newbie nurse has always believed in him, and in recent years, his tendency to put the party scene over the rap scene in his priority list— it never stopped her from supporting him. She has always been waiting patiently for the next drop. It’ll come soon! She’d tell all of her friends.

And then, he had gone missing. Just briefly, not even technically. Not in the paper or anything. Just gone long enough for the usual club-goers to notice his absence. Long enough for her to hear about it. Long enough for her to start to think that maybe that next drop was never going to come.

And then and then. He shows up again. But not at the club, not on a stage, not in the news. At her place of work! The newbie nurse does not think she could possibly recreate the face she had made upon seeing his file if she tried. There was no way she could capture that shock and horror again. Not only was her favourite rapper checking in to the hospital she works at, he was also checking in under mysterious and secret circumstances. Under protective watch from an agency that kind of just refuses to properly name themselves? But it looks official enough… It seems like some sort of down low stream of government? Some military force that is kept under wraps for one reason or another? 

It reminds her of SHIELD from the marvel movies. She’s sure Thanos thought the same thing. If anybody was going to relate a marvel movie to real life it would probably be him, she thinks. 

He is.. different than she thought he would be. Not in a bad way, necessarily. And it’s likely that the videos from the club and the performances are all authentic too, that personality still seems to be there. It’s just really.. dull? It’s like his light is dimmer, perhaps after whatever happened to him in this crazy secret kidnapping. It can’t help that he can’t use his voice at the moment, either. His voice is quite literally the money maker. The newbie nurse can’t imagine he could feel at his best this way.  

The newbie nurse almost thought that she would be assigned to be his personal aid, but she was instead placed on helping his little roommate with the bowl cut. Both of them were rescued from the same place, along with the extra unhappy one that attacked her patient. At first she thought the three of them would be causing trouble for the entire week, but after a session with the rec therapist and group meeting, it seemed like things were going a lot more swimmingly? At least from outside eyes.

She tries really hard not to pay too much attention to Thanos. She knows it’s unprofessional to treat him any differently than she would a normal patient. But it's extra tough when you’re a long time fan and.. she doesn’t really have a good excuse. She tries to just keep her eyes and ears exclusively on Minsu, making sure he is comfortable and getting better. He has these unfortunate bruises on his neck from the attack of the first full day here, which are hard to look at. They just look so painful. They’re only just darker than the colour of Thanos’ hair. That’s another thing. She knows she is supposed to refer to him as Subong, his government name. But she is having a really hard time changing the default in her mind. 

Today is the three new patients’ third day in the ward. It seems like every day that passes Minsu sort of just becomes less and less outspoken. He had seemed like he had so much anger brewing, and now it's just sort of like he is a zombie. Absently making his way through each day just looking forward to the moment he gets to leave. It’s interesting, because according to his file, he doesn’t really have anywhere to go after this. She imagines he has friends to move in with or something like that, but if she were in his shoes, she would be making the most of this place. She thinks. She supposes she didn’t just come from a crazy kidnapping where she was drugged up and confused. She would probably be looking at life a little differently if she had. 

Thanos is the exact opposite. Thanos- or.. Subong. Subong seems to have inexplicably brightened up. She knows she isn’t supposed to watch him, isnt assigned to him, but anybody and their mom would notice the difference. it is truly like night and day. The previous day he had caused a whole ruckus running off on his nurse and the rec therapist. And then he had spent the rest of the day essentially locked up and brooding. He had looked miserable to the newbie nurse, but maybe she had been misinterpreting things. And now, today, in the early hours of the morning, he comes to breakfast practically skipping. It makes no sense. The newbie nurse wonders if he has just been blessed with some sort of happy dream. Like he had the best sleep of his life and he is just ready to take on anything. She can’t think of anything that would result in an attitude switch like this aside from maybe magic. 

She doesn’t know what to think when she sees his cool indifference suddenly replaced with a stifled smile, a bouncy walk, excited eyes. Something has seriously happened. Something had changed. It is so clear to her. He looks every bit the happy performer he did early in his career. He looks like he has new success, like he is looking down at the world from a ladder he built himself. 

When he sits down for his breakfast and starts happily writing down what must be lyrics in his notepad, the newbie nurse can’t take it. She decides she needs to speak to somebody about this. 

“..Uhm,” She says to Thanos- Subong’s nurse. Who stands with his arms crossed at the cafeteria doors. Watching over his patient from afar. Probably a little nervous from yesterday’s kerfuffle. “How’s your.. how’s your patient doing?” 

“How’s yours?” The nurse bites back at her. And it’s a little rude, and she’s sort of taken aback. And she realizes quickly that he knows she’s a fan and he probably thinks she is being intrusive. Which she is. She laughs awkwardly, glancing over at where Minsu is silently finishing his breakfast.

”He’s… well he seems down. I’m just wondering if maybe you did something.. I don't know.. Subong seems so chipper! And Minsu is very uh.. well he looks like he’s struggling,” The newbie nurse explains, hurriedly. The nurse sighs, looking a little apologetic for jumping at her neck. 

“Honestly, I have no idea why he’s suddenly like this. Yesterday he was a different person,” The nurse says. The newbie nurse hums and nods, looks back over at Thanos eagerly writing. He's even sticking his tongue out a little, like the inspiration is just flowing out of him and he needs to get it all out and down on paper asap. “He’s been oddly cheerful this whole time, sure. When he checked in he was playing pretend basketball with the water cooler cups.. but.. I don't know.”

”I thought he seemed pretty laid back the last couple days,” Newbie nurse offers. The nurse nods along. “Today he’s like.. I don't know. He’s so sunshiney. He’s acting like he just won the lottery.” 

“Yes. It’s exactly like that. I don’t understand what changed between today and last night,” The nurse responds, finally uncrossing his arms and letting them hang at his sides. 

“What’s this about our patients being weird?” Another nurse comes, to join their conversation. She has a blue hairclip in today. The newbie nurse always likes her cute hairclips. She heard that hairclip nurse got assigned to the third kidnapping patient, Namgyu. The one with the private room and the thirst for Minsu’s blood. 

“Why, yours is all smiley too?” Thanos’ nurse asks, genuinely interested. The newbie nurse sort of wonders if their patients have formed a hive mind and they’re telling each other jokes through their brains. Maybe that's why they’re all happy go lucky. 

“Not.. not quite smiley,” Hairclip says. “But, it's a shocking improvement. He’s just completely complying with everything, no arguing, no fighting, no insults.” 

“That IS bizarre,” Thanos’ nurse responds. “Does he still have private mealtime?” 

“Yes. He’s spending the morning in the quiet room. But he’ll attend group meeting this afternoon,” Hairclip nurse answers. “He’s not really smiling? But he’s not frowning either. It’s weird.”

”What magical fairy came and cast a spell on them last night?” The newbie nurse chimes in, causing both of her colleagues to lightly laugh. 

“I think tomorrow we can let him off the hook,” Thanos’ nurse says. 

“Namgyu? You think Minsu will be okay with that?” Hairclip asks. 

“He’ll have to be. We’ll keep a close eye on him at all times. There's just no way he’ll get better if he’s on his own this whole time,” Thanos’ nurse shrugs. Hairclip nods.

”I suppose you’re right..” Hairclip says. Then, she juts her chin out towards Thanos. “Reckon he’s writing new lyrics?” 

Newbie nurse feels her face go pink, and she knows if she responds with any sort of excitement Thanos’ nurse will be on her ass about professionalism. She stays silent. 

“I’d assume so. When he’s not trying to communicate with a staff member that's all he does. Mind you, usually with less enthusiasm,” Thanos’ nurse says. ”Usually he looks all melancholic. Today he’s writing with like.. fervor. I don't know. Like he’s getting paid for it.” 

“When he gets out of here he will get paid for it!!” The newbie nurse can’t help but blurt.

”What did I say about mentioning his career,” Thanos’ nurse scolds.

”You set her up,” hairclip nurse says with a smile. Newbie nurse appreciates the defense. 

When breakfast time wraps up and more and more patients leave the cafeteria, it ends up being only a handful left sitting at the tables with no apparent desire to move. Among the handful are both Minsu and Thanos. Thanos’ nurse and newbie stand in their same spots next to each other and wait patiently for one or both of their patients to want to get up and leave. But the time just never comes. Hours pass, and eventually Minsu has spent a concerning amount of time just staring down at his hands, newbie decides to go and take him to the rec room and encourage some sort of brain-stimulating activity. Thanos’ nurse bids her farewell, and newbie can’t help but be a little jealous that he just gets to chill in the caf and watch Thanos be all creative the entire damn day. It’s super cool. It’s like living in a documentary. 

Wouldn’t it be awesome if a camera crew showed up here to film his biopic? That would be so cool. 

Thanos still has a massive smile on his face and a pep in his step later in the afternoon when it's time for group meeting. Newbie distinctly remembers that he was absent for the last one. She remembers waiting outside for Minsu and being sort of disappointed, against her professional knowledge, that she hadn’t seen Thanos leave the room. As much as she knows it’s not good practice, she is excited every time she spots him out and about. This time, it seems that Minsu and Thanos are both in the same session. Furthermore, Namgyu is also supposed to be in this one, probably will be strapped to his chair just like the first time, if the newbie nurse had to guess. The newbie nurse is just in the middle of making sure Minsu is comfortable in his spot when they enter. 

Hairclip comes in with Namgyu in tow, and gestures for him to sit down so that she can wrap the restraints around his wrist and adjust the tightness. They enter just in time for Thanos’ nurse to get stern with him. He says “Subong can you please just relax? You’ve been so excitable today.” 

Curiously, Namgyu does not sit down. Instead, his head isn’t even facing the chair he is supposed to reach. It is facing Thanos’ nurse, as if caught by his words, and then it is facing Thanos himself. He stands there frozen solid, like he has been turned into concrete. Newbie nurse almost snorts, thinking back to a couple hours ago when hairclip had said he was being extraordinarily complacent. But then, newbie nurse follows Namgyu’s line of sight, and sees that Thanos is similarly frozen. They’re both standing and staring at each other, and for some reason, Minsu flinches at the newbie nurse’s side. Like he wants to bolt towards the exit. 

The two patients look like they’re in an isolated chamber. They’re looking at each other as if there is absolutely nobody else in the room. It’s like nothing the newbie nurse has ever seen in this place. And the look on Thanos’ face. It’s not a look she had ever seen on him before. Not in the fuzzy club instagram stories, not in old performance videos, not in the last several days of in-person sightings. He looks so fond, so insanely fond of who he’s looking at, that he looks like he’s just going to explode with joy. He looks so goddamn happy, the newbie nurse doesn’t think she has ever or will ever see ANYBODY look like this ever again. 

Thanos whips out his notepad, and shows it to Namgyu, it already has writing on it. As if he has prepared this particular phrase for this exact moment. It says ‘I TOLD YOU’ in big bold letters. 

The newbie nurse glances down at Minsu, and sees him looking down at his own lap, like he wants to hide his face. Or avoid seeing this whole thing. The other patients getting settled into the meeting room are all sort of confused. Their nurses as well. everybody is just confused and quiet. 

Namgyu dashes towards Thanos and tackles him in a great big hug. Taken aback, Thanos’ nurse stumbles backwards as the two patients cling onto each other like long lost lovers reunited in an airport. Thanos’ nurse had looked panicked for a moment, as if he thought Namgyu was going in for an attack just like the other day with Minsu. When he realizes that this is actually a hug, he looks downright lost. It is just confusing. As much as it is charming. The newbie nurse can’t help but wonder what the hell she’s missing. Seemingly several pieces of information. 

Hairclip is scratching her head, a look of puzzlement so profound newbie almost laughs. They still haven’t let go of each other. Thanos is rubbing a hand on Namgyu’s back like they are close, and Namgyu is laughing? Crying? He’s doing something that involved little hiccups of air intake and trembling shoulders. He’s squeezing Thanos so tightly that the newbie nurse thinks she hears him wheeze a little. That can’t feel good. But it’s sort of heartwarming? Thanos has this big smile on his face similar to the one he’s been carrying around all day, but now its even bigger, and his mouth is open. And he’s sort of silently giggling as Namgyu squeezes him again, tighter, and then takes a weak fist to punch him lightly on the arm when he finally lets him go.

They don’t fully break apart, though, they still hold each other, both hands on each other’s biceps, less than a foot apart. 

“I really can’t believe it,” Namgyu says, hushedly, as the room resumes with murmurs of other patients. “I was starting to think I dreamt it.” 

And at this, Thanos’ eyes go wide and he hurriedly shushes Namgyu. Full on index finger to lips shushing. What the hell is he hiding? When had these two interacted? Had they somehow sent each other carrier pigeons in the night? The newbie nurse can’t remember the last time she was this perplexed. 

At the aggressive hushing, Namgyu laughs, a funny little laugh like he is still in some sort of disbelief. and he runs a hand through his hair and steps back slightly. Thanos doesn’t let him get far, sort of comes forward with him and keeps them attached. 

Newbie nurse can’t help it, she leans down towards Minsu, and whispers. “Do you know what’s going on here?” 

Unsurprisingly, Minsu only shrugs, and does not look away from where he twiddles his thumbs in his lap.

“Namgyu I need you to sit down,” Hairclip says, as firmly as she can muster, although she still just looks confused. Namgyu does not even look at her, still absorbed by his giggle fit as Thanos smiles and shakes with laughter with him. They’re still holding on to each other. 

“Namgyu, now.” Hairclip says. 

“Can you-? Oh my god,” Namgyu sighs, still laughing a little bit even through the evident frustration in his voice. Thanos seems to find the nurse’s anger funny too, because his shoulders shake harder and he looks a little pink in the face. They both look really happy, despite these strange circumstances. ”Just give me one fucking second.” 

Thanos pulls Namgyu back in for one more hug, seemingly smart enough to know that any second now they are going to be pulled apart to get this meeting underway. They’re lucky that the group therapist isn't here yet. It’s an even tighter squeeze than the first time, if that's even possible, and Namgyu laughs through it happily, and wraps his arms around Thanos’s shoulder like he can’t get close enough. They look like such a silly little pair in their matching ward pyjamas, soft and clean and smiling in the sunlight that leaks in from the courtyard windows. The newbie nurse feels her chest ache a little bit, wondering what their story might be. 

Thanos lets Namgyu go and gives him a light shove towards his chair. Namgyu laughs and gives in, turning to sit down and let himself be strapped to the chair. he doesn’t even have to be told to place his hands on the armrests. He just does it. Thanos sits down too, a few seats away from Namgyu in his designated spot, and he places his notepad in his lap, ready to contribute to the conversation, it seems. 

It’s only once they’re all settled into place and ready for the meeting to start when the newbie nurse notices the tears. They make Namgyu’s eyes shine with something that hadn’t been there before. The vulnerability is larger than that first meeting, it’s something else. And his expression is so relaxed, so satisfied. Like he has what he wants and being stuck in the psych ward suddenly doesn't matter to him. The newbie nurse tilts her head a little, she can’t decide if she’s happy for him or intrigued. Probably both. There's this added authenticity to him now, no longer the hostile beast of a man that the newbie nurse had perceived him as since he checked in. Like being around Thanos calmed him. Warmed him.

”Alright folks,” The group therapist says, as she enters, oblivious to the scene they’ve all just unwillingly been a part of. She claps her hands together a couple times and makes her way over to her seat at the circle of chairs. Newbie nurse and the rest of the nurses all take the time to exit the room. Newbie decides to make a rare decision and stay in the room for the session. She sits down at a seat next to the door and watches as the rest of the nurses wave goodbye and leave the room. 

The first thing the newbie nurse notices as the group therapist starts rattling off the usual spiel to start the session, is that Namgyu and Thanos are looking at each other. They’re not looking anywhere else, actually. And they’re laughing every once in a while, again. Like being around each other makes them high or something. They’re acting so odd, so bubbly. They raise their eyebrows at each other and purse their lips, they seem to be communicating in some way with just their eyes. And the newbie nurse watches as Namgyu playfully shakes the restraint straps, making a small jingly noise as the locks on them clang against the chair. Thanos puts a fist up to his mouth to stop his laughter from escaping. 

When the hell did this happen? Where? How? Newbie nurse isn’t sure exactly what she’s seeing, but if Minsu’s tired expression and his eyes rolling into the back of his head, if those are anything to go off of, she presumes this must be quite serious. 

“Now we’re going to talk a little bit about management in the outside world. Can anybody name a few ways we can work to manage our feelings and our bad memories?”  The group therapist asks. And nobody opens their mouth to speak. At the silence, the therapist speaks again. “We talked a little bit about this the other day. Does anybody remember?” 

Namgyu talks then, shockingly. With a small smile on his face and an attempt at carelessness. His cheeks bunching upwards with happiness, turning his eyes into crescents. It’s like he can’t hide the joy if he tries. “Get high?” 

It’s quiet, and Thanos has doubled over in his chair, bent virtually in half and jerking with silent laughter. Namgyu holds his lips tightly closed, also attempting not to laugh at his own words. A couple of the other patients snicker.

“…No, no that’s definitely not a coping method we discussed last week. No,” The therapist says, reluctant to even play into it. Namgyu shrugs, like he hadn’t know that. Like it was a genuine suggestion. Thanos still hasn't recovered, he’s wiping a tear from his eye like it’s the funniest thing he has ever heard. “Anybody else? Anybody else want to try? Coping methods?” 

“Fuck?” Namgyu asks, and Thanos bends over again, hands covering his face, laughing so violently it almost looks painful. The other patients laugh too, a little louder this time. Minsu is silent and completely still. Namgyu once again seems to find himself quite funny, because he actually chuckles at himself this time. 

“If you’re not going to take this seriously, I’ll have you removed. Know that your behaviour here could easily result in more time before your discharge,” The therapist says, sharply. Namgyu’s face doesn’t change. Whatever aggression would have resulted from such a threat yesterday, does not come to the surface today. He looks like he could not care less. He looks like he’s willing to spend his life in here. The newbie suspects that that is because of a certain someone losing their shit a few seats away. 

Thanos has an arm around his torso now, clutching his stomach like it hurts from laughing. The newbie imagines it must be even more painful having to keep it in like that, struggling not to use your voice and potentially hurt yourself. 

“Anybody else. Anybody other than Namgyu, please,” The therapist practically begs. Newbie would feel sorry for her if she wasn’t honestly enjoying it. 

“Talk about it?” A timid patient offers, earning a big smile from the therapist. 

“Yes! Thank you,” The therapist says. And they move on to discuss how .. discussing.. your issues can be hugely impactful. The laughter dies down halfway through this little lesson, and the meeting slowly turns into a normal one. It’s all of the usual topics the newbie nurse sees covered. From the coping methods they move to personal stories, a prompt for anybody to share how they are feeling about their situation currently. 

“I like the bright colours in here,” One patient says. “The office is so cold and white.. it makes me so sad.” 

“Yes, that’s a perfectly reasonable way to feel. It’s very common for office workers to experience depressive episodes as a result of their dull work environment. That brings us back to the importance of spending lots of time outside and in places you enjoy,” The therapist nods, and smiles. The patient nods back. 

“The guys who kidnapped us wore bright pink just like the walls in here,” Namgyu blurts, suddenly. The room goes dead quiet. It's not uncommon for people to dump out sudden facts about their traumatic experiences, but this one is strange. Their kidnappers wore bright pink? Another piece of the strange secretive government puzzle they’ve been left to put together. The newbie nurse sees Minsu squirm, looking intensely uncomfortable suddenly. 

Thanos then writes something in his notepad and flashes it up to the therapist. In big letters, it says: That’s true! Walls r creepy. 

“Hm,” The therapist says. “I’m sorry to hear that our paint colour reminds you both of such a terrible thing. I wonder why we weren’t informed of this before your stay began..” 

“Because our officers are shit at their job,” Namgyu says. And he opens and closes his hands and makes the locks jingle again. Thanos nods in agreement, his eyes closed. 

“Does anybody else here have a problem with specific colours? Do we know some good ways to combat that in real life?” The therapist asks, opening the conversation black up to everybody. 

“My abuser always used a purple bat.. when I see purple I just think of that metal bat..” One patient says, dimly. Their expression small and gloomy. The therapist nods and frowns with heavy sympathy. 

“Sometimes it can be helpful in the long run to actually expose ourselves to such a colour regularly. If you get used to it in a new context, it can help you break free of those memories,” The therapist says. ”So, maybe it would help to have a purple coffee mug.” 

The patient nods, and bites the inside of their cheek. The therapist turns to Namgyu and Thanos.

”Or, for you two. Maybe it would help to wear pink yourselves. Sort of hold something over your perpetrators. Reestablish your own control,” The therapist suggests. 

Thanos scribbles something on his notepad, then shows it to Namgyu. The newbie nurse doesn’t see all of it from where she’s sitting, it’s not so largely written as before. Like it was written just for Namgyu to see. But she catches the word ‘buy’ and the word ‘pink.’ Namgyu responds with a close-mouthed smile. 

A promise to buy some pink for them to wear? Maybe? How corny. 

As far as she’s aware, at least from the rumours she has heard, Thanos is in no financial position to be offering to buy people new wardrobes. 

The meeting ends after a long hour more of similar discussion. Namgyu doesn’t pipe up again, but he does occasionally share a silent laugh with Thanos about one thing or another. Almost like a team of antagonists in a cartoon, they seem to crack up whenever somebody shares something especially unfortunate about their lives. The newbie nurse has to bite her lip to contain her saddened sighs at how cruel and uncaring Thanos is suddenly acting around this guy. Notably, not ever towards him. Just towards everybody else around them. Like the two of them are playing some sort of one-up me game. Or, performing for each other in some way. Like they kind of fuel each other’s bitchiness. Minsu does not say a word for the entire session. 

And when it ends, Minsu insists on heading straight back to his room. Seemingly completely uninterested in talking with his fellow kidnappees. The newbie can’t say she blames him. It doesn’t seem as though his personality would really mash with the two of them. Which is interesting, because Thanos had seemed very eager for him to stay earlier. 

Which brings them to the moment Thanos makes a noise and rushes over to the doorway. Just when they are leaving. It’s like he wanted to call out to Minsu, but remembered he shouldn’t be using his voice. Namgyu was still being unlocked from the restraints on his chair, and his nurse was making sure his wrists were alright since he had been messing around with them during the meeting. Thanos grabs Minsu by the arm and pulls him backwards slightly. 

He has this puppy-dog look on his face, like he wants Minsu to join them and chat. He gestures backwards, wordlessly, for Minsu to stay. Everybody else is streaming out of the room in a little line, nurses included. Minsu looks confused, scared for a millisecond, and then conflicted. 

But, no matter Thanos’ feelings about making Minsu feel included- Namgyu’s expression was more than enough to make Minsu turn and never look back. All thoughts about maybe staying and conversing seem to completely leave his mind when his eyes meet Namgyu’s. There is a fiery rage in his face that the newbie nurse cannot help but also shiver at. Even when it is not directed at herself. Thanos glances back at Namgyu and sees the furrowed brows and the pursed lips, the white cold skin and his whole head tilted downwards, his features shadowed and his eyes grey beneath his brow ridge. Thanos seems to find it amusing, because he lets go of Minsu only to chuckle a little bit and step back, making the visibility between Minsu and Namgyu clearer. A little dotted line seems to appear between them, like a lazer coming from Namgyu’s steely glare. 

Thanos holds his palms out like he is a zookeeper, as if to tell Namgyu to settle. He has that same cool-guy attitude on him right now that the newbie nurse knows and loves. It doesn’t work, however, as her patient spends one last second looking at Namgyu and turns and darts out into the hallway. 

The newbie nurse wants to stay and see what Thanos and Namgyu are going to talk about, but she knows she has to chase down her patient and make sure he’s okay. 

As she runs after Minsu, she hears Namgyu laugh like he’s successfully caught a mouse in his garage. The newbie nurse furrows her brows as she follows her patient through the hallways. Far away from the meeting room. Minsu reaches the door of his room just before she catches him. And she watches from a few feet away as he heads inside the open entrance and sits down on his bed, shakily. She heads inside a moment after him, giving him just a second to catch his breath and calm down. 

She asks if she may sit down beside him, and surprisingly Minsu allows it. 

“Can I ask what that was all about?” She asks, knowing that there was no point in asking permission to ask the question while simultaneously going ahead and asking it. Minsu doesn’t seem to mind. He looks away for a moment before seemingly deciding to speak. 

“It’s so frustrating..” He says, and his voice is very small. It’s like he has been turned into the same Minsu she imagines came out during capture. Unassuming, scared. “They’re acting just the same as before..” 

“Can you elaborate?” The nurse asks. 

“They’re acting like.. I thought that…” Minsu huffs. “It wasn’t the drugs. They’re just.. like that. They do it to each other, I think.” 

“How do you mean?” The nurse prods. She can’t help it. She knows this conversation will do nothing for Minsu’s healing. It seems like it has nothing to do with him. But she’s just so damn curious about her favourite artist’s weird relationship. 

“This is exactly how they were during our.. when we were kidnapped,” Minsu explains. “They were just like this. But I thought that maybe.. it was just.. the effects of the pills? But when they’re together they’re just so… Thanos changes so much like.. they transform into something else.” 

“I can understand that,” The newbie nurse says, with a short hum. “Sometimes codependency can do things to our personalities. We start to feed off of each other and change ourselves to match better with who we’re attached to.” 

“But it’s.. it’s so instant, didn’t you see it?” Minsu asks, looking troubled. His eyes are red with stress. He clutches at the fabric of his pyjamas, scrunching them up, knuckles to his kneecaps. 

“It’s possible that they relied on such a dynamic to get through the traumatizing experience. They’re just falling back into it because it’s how they’re used to each other,” The nurse theorizes. Minsu’s face changes, like he seems to get it. “Did you have somebody you relied on like that?”

“Not like that,” Minsu says, almost defensively. Like he is insulted to be compared to them. 

“Do you feel like your experience with the drugs made you feel more like them?” The nurse asks. “Is that why you’re confused?” 

“I didn’t feel like them.. but I felt. Like a loose cannon?” Minsu says. “I wasn’t myself. But now I think.. they WERE. They were themselves the whole time… I don’t understand it.” 

“Does that change how you perceive them?” The nurse asks, not sure where this is going. 

“I just. I thought. The last few days with Thanos, Subong, it sort of made me think I judged him too soon. That the drugs made him different,” Minsu explains. “But as soon as he’s with him.. it’s like they’re on the pills again. It’s like the last couple of days have just been a bunch of lies. I don’t know how I was starting to believe him.” 

“Two things can be true at once,” The nurse points out. “And.. they haven’t done much, have they? Just a little bit of poorly timed humour?” 

“You don’t get it,” Minsu tells her, darkly. “They were terrible in there. The way they are acting now can only lead to the same thing I saw. Ruthlessness. Apathy.” 

“Minsu, are you stressing over this because you worry that you are the same?” The nurse asks. And Minsu goes deathly quiet. 

The room feels cold, then. Like the world has stopped moving and the sun has decided to send their plane tour of orbit, to face the darkness of space for good. Minsu stares straight forward with eyes as wide as black holes. His hands tremble on his knees. 

“You’re worried that, like them, there is some part of you that was enhanced when you were on the drugs? That you were still you, while on the drugs? That it wasn’t some puppetry, some changing potion? That you are capable of thinking the same way you thought on the drugs?” The nurse continues. 

Minsu looks downwards, a dry sob escaping him. And the nurse isn’t sure if this is a breakthrough or a massive mistake on her part. It feels like both. 

“We are multifaceted beings, Minsu. You may have still been you on the pills, but that doesn’t mean you would necessarily do the things you are feeling so bad about while sober,” The nurse says. “Namgyu and Thanos are probably the same.” 

And Minsu’s head jolts over to her, a strange look on his face, one brow raised. And she realizes she has accidentally used his rapper name. 

“Ah- uh- Subong! Namgyu and Subong are probably the same! I meant,” The nurse takes a breath. “They may be the same people. But that doesn’t mean that Subong doesn’t regret how he may have acted on the drugs. It doesn’t make whatever he said to you these last few days untrue.” 

“But I can just see it, I can see them hurting people. Namgyu DID hurt me,” Minsu says. “And if they.. if they’re always that way. If it has nothing to do with the pills. I must be the same.” 

“Can I ask, what was so bad that you did while you were high? The other two as well. What did you see them do? You said, hurt people?” The nurse questions. And it’s at this moment that she knows she has overstepped. Minsu turns and lays down on his bed, facing the wall. It is clear that this conversation is completely over. The nurse instantly regrets her decision to ask for so much. It sounds like that was the source of Minsu’s stress that she was digging into. It sounds like it’s going to take a good while for him to be willing to offer up any of the answers to those questions. 

The nurse walks out of his room and locks it with a dizzy head. She feels as though she has just entered some sort of grand story, something far beyond what the staff of this place are aware of. Suddenly, the backgrounds of these three patients are all she can think about. Would it be possible for them to ask for a better understanding from the victim services officers? Is it so much to ask for a basic explanation of their patients’ trauma? 

How are they meant to properly treat them when they are so in the dark. The nurse did her best with that conversation just now with the amount of information she has, but she knows it would all go so much more smoothly if they actually knew what they were dealing with. Whatever Minsu is feeling guilty about, and whatever he insists is so villainous about the pair in the meeting room, all of that is essential to helping them get over it. 

The nurse, rubbing at her temples as she walks, heads back over towards the meeting room. She finds Thanos’ nurse and Hairclip nurse both leaning against the wall just next to the door. When newbie nurse walks up, she glances inside to see Namgyu and Thanos sitting and talking. Thanos holds up his notepad and points to a couple of words while Namgyu nods along. 

“So.. any clue how this happened?” Newbie nurse asks. Hairclip shrugs. 

“No. I’m so stuck on it. I have no idea how or why they’re so close,” Thanos’ nurse says. He looks frustrated, the wrinkles around his mouth more evident in this light. 

“They must have spotted each other at some point? It’s not like we were trying to keep them apart. We didn’t know there was any significant connection there,” The Hairclip nurse says. 

“Then why the big reunion hug? I’m so confused..” Thanos’ nurse mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Good point,” The Hairclip nurse says, then she leans over to peer inside. “They’re like best friends.” 

The newbie nurse can’t help but snort. 

“What?” The Hairclip nurse asks. 

“Best friends?” Newbie asks. Hairclip and Thanos’ nurse both look at each other. Newbie places her hands on her hips. 

“They’re completely obsessed with each other,” Newbie says, gesturing inside once again where Namgyu and Thanos are giggling. Namgyu is poking at Thanos’ chest and holding that cross thing he carries in his other hand. He’s holding it up and saying something with a sly look on his face, eyelids droopy and ducking down sort of, to lean in towards where he’s prodding at Thanos. 

“You’re right,” Thanos’ nurse says, a little breathlessly. “You think they got extra extra close when they were kidnapped?” 

“It’s not really our business,” Hairclip shrugs again. “Pretty rare to have something like this in this place though. We hardly ever even have people that know each other. Let alone..” 

Thanos has a hand out petting at Namgyu’s head, they all watch as Thanos takes a finger down to curl a strand of long black hair around it. He twirls it beside Namgyu’s head. Namgyu seems to be laughing. So jokey, those two. It really is like they’re in their own world completely. 

“I don’t know if they realize it, though,” The newbie can’t help but say. Both of the other nurse’s heads snap over to face her. “Minsu said this is just sort of how they are.” 

“Namgyu’s attitude about staying here has switched like a light,” Hairclip says. “He’s still aggro, but it’s like he doesn’t care as long as Subong is here with him.” 

“Yeah, that’s easy to see,” Thanos’ nurse agrees. “It’s like all of the trouble of their recent experience is just.. gone. They’re acting like nothing can bug them now.” 

“I was thinking this is probably the same thing they did while they were actually captured. Relying on this relationship to keep their moods light,” The newbie nurse says. 

“That definitely makes sense. They formed this sort of protective bond,” Hairclip says, with a nod. 

“Subong was so off yesterday, too. The rec therapist said he had a little meltdown and.. he ran off, I don’t know. This is all so strange,” Thanos’ nurse says, itching at his chin. 

“Yeah. I’m still confused about when they first saw each other. How did none of us catch it?” Newbie nurse says. 

“Namgyu has been pretty isolated since he attacked Minsu that first day. Not sure how Subong could have ever run into him without me knowing,” Hairclip says. 

They look inside again to see Thanos writing something in his notes, and Namgyu’s chair has been scooted closer, their knees are slotted together in a pattern. Locked to each other, sort of. They’re almost awkwardly close. Namgyu might as well sit on Thanos’ lap. 

..huh. 

The newbie nurse is suddenly reminded of a video she remembers seeing. 

It was grainy footage from the club. Some girl had posted it and it had gone around everywhere on Twitter. It wasn’t that often that Thanos was spotted with guys, so it sort of caught people’s attention. Bad and good. 

The newbie nurse remembers vividly, the pink lighting flashing over Thanos as he gratefully took a shot from a waitress’ tray. The video shifting to follow his hand as he picks it up, rings and painted nails and tattoos making him so recognizable. Then you could see him send a wink to the waitress as she walks away, the music pounding hard. It turns into only bass in the shitty quality of the video. 

And the camera shifts again, showing his entire body, lazily sprawled out against the unidentifiably coloured couch. And there are people everywhere, basically all around him and all over him. All looking dazed and happy. There are hands on him from virtually every angle. But there is someone in particular in his lap. Propped up with one arm around Thanos’ neck, it’s a staff member. You can tell because of how he is dressed, the black collared shirt and the nice black pants. The nametag. The video quality was too horrible for anybody to actually find the dude’s name. He is sitting sideways on Thanos like any of the usual girls. 

It’s Namgyu. The newbie nurse knows it. It flashes in her mind like it is her own memory. Only a video she had seen on Twitter. Invading her mind like she is involved. It’s Namgyu. Leaning close to Thanos’ mouth, blowing smoke into it. Then, grabbing the glass from Thanos’ hand and lifting it to pour it into Thanos’ mouth for him. And their eyes are locked on each other. Just like right now. It’s intense, even through the gritty video, anybody could see it. 

It had been so intense, actually, that Thanos’ fan base had been sort of dead set on tracking down Namgyu. 

But when Thanos had disappeared, it had seemed like this specific club staff member had disappeared too. Nobody could find the ‘long hair guy from the video’ anywhere. 

The nurse is brought back to herself, and she stares through the window on the meeting room door with a face she knows must be telling. She knows she shouldn’t say it. Knows it’s not important for their work. Knows that Thanos’ nurse won’t be happy with her bringing him up in the light of his rapping career. 

“They knew each other before,” She blurts. 

“Hm?” Thanos’ nurse asks. 

“There was a video that went around before uh.. before they were both kidnapped,” The newbie nurse continues, unable to stop herself. “Pretty sure they were in some sort of relationship.” 

“Not shocking,” Hairclip nurse says. 

“What did I tell you about- you can’t be-“ Thanos’ nurse sighs frustratedly and brings both hands to run through his hair. 

“You need to really wipe your mind of anything you know about this guy. Okay? It’s seriously unprofessional to bring up anything about his life that he hasn’t told you himself. It’s not our job to make assumptions about him. Alright?” Thanos’ nurse says. 

And the newbie nurse nods and apologizes. But she knows tonight she’s going to try to find that video again and confirm her theory. She takes one last peek in the meeting room and sees Namgyu and Thanos playfully linking arms. They’re still sitting, so it’s a bit of an awkward angle, but they seem to be reminiscing about something. 

Chapter Text

Namgyu should know better than to believe his eyes. But somehow, even hours later, still reeling and wide awake, he cannot bring himself to accept the dream he had stirred up. Thanos’ silly smirk and his firm hands on Namgyu’s face. His terrible writing and his focused expression. His funny little wave when he first entered the room, the little heart he made with his fingers when he left. His recognizable charisma, but without the unhinged joltiness of the pills he was on. How could Namgyu’s mind dare to build all of that? How could it possibly be that all of it was nothing? Nothing but the silence and darkness of this room, wavering in static noise, dust in the air. Thanos’ figure approaching, and then lowering itself to Namgyu’s level, the mattress dipping with his weight, his warmth palpable. How could it have been a dream? 

Namgyu thinks of his own image, how he had broken down, how he had let the moment take over. Let his own vision destroy him, this nasty made-up fantasy a cruel and overbearing reminder of his current state. Namgyu may be stubborn, but he is not stupid. A moment ago, he had felt that he did not belong in this place. That there was nothing his experience in the games did to him that necessitated a stay in psychiatric care. He had insisted to himself that there was nothing holding him back, nothing pulling him down, aside from his being in the hospital. He thought that, once on the outside, all would go back as it was. Now, after such a visceral hallucination, he is starting to believe that he may in fact have reason to stay here.

Could he have truly been capable of mocking himself this way? Creating this piss-poor version of Thanos, this.. kind, sweet, touchy, sort of doting version of him Namgyu hadn’t known he desired. Is his mind so inhuman? Namgyu half wonders when the door will swing open again, revealing some gang of dead people Namgyu is responsible for killing. A mob of his greatest regrets or some other bullshit of the same caliber. Or does he lack the amount of remorse necessary for such a trip? For him to see the people he killed, he’d probably have to remember what their faces looked like. For the life of him he can only recall Semi. He turns over in the bed, the cross in his hands beneath the covers, no longer set out on the pillow beside him. 

On the off chance that the Thanos he saw and touched, is actually real, Namgyu should probably prepare himself for their next meeting. Never before has he been rendered so utterly incapable of collected speech and action. It cannot happen again. He had been trapped in this odd cycle of tears and touchiness, the sober intimacy somehow giving him a buzz, of sorts. It had felt like magic, like nothing a drug had ever done for him. It had been humiliating, after the fact. To sit in his room and ponder if it had been reality, and how embarrassing it was if that was the case. Crying like a baby, spending more time holding each other than informing each other of the situation. Holding the air? Had he been holding anything? Just the memory of him? Or.. this strange twisted version of Namgyu’s memory of him? 

Had it been indecent, cruel, weird? To dream up this version of Thanos that was so close and soft to him? A version of him just for Namgyu, made by Namgyu? Could Thanos see him from whatever off plane of existence he might dwell in? Was he laughing in the afterlife? Laughing while watching Namgyu paw at the empty space, seeing a face? 

When he had placed his head against Thanos, had his head been hanging down in front of him with nothing supporting it? Had he been so delusional to perceive a non-existent surface holding him up? The thought is enough to make his eyes sting again, and he knows that his face must be puffy with emotion. His eyes must be red, the skin above his lips too. He must be blotchy and ugly. Namgyu brings a hand to the side of his head and feels at the hair that is tucked behind his ear. Had he done that himself too? Pretended to have been so gently groomed and observed? Moved his own hair out of the way and convinced himself it was a dead person that did it..?

Namgyu thinks back to Myunggi in the maze, how it had felt to cling onto him, hang off of him, jumping and hopping around him. Both of their figures had been strong and intimidating in the blue tight corridors of the arena. They had been so strong together. Taller, meaner, hungrier. He had felt like a member of a team again, a partnership. It hadn’t been the same in any way, but when Namgyu was high enough, lost enough, uncaring enough, Myunggi transformed before his eyes. Had Thanos seen that too? Had he seen him play around, lick the blood from Myunggi’s knife, following him around like a lost dog. Hug the back of him and pretend he was just a little taller, a little brighter, a little bolder? Colourful hair? Smaller lips? Handsome eyes? 

Myunggi was a pathetic fucking man. More pathetic than Namgyu. More pathetic than this whole situation, more pathetic than his multiple visions of a dead guy he knew just sort of. More pathetic than fucking Minsu, only just. Myunggi was a loser, a cheat, a scammer. And Namgyu, in his quest for a joyous last moment, some sort of high— greater than the pills— to pull him out, had missed his opportunity to get rid of him. He had instead attached himself to that man like he hadn’t had any other chance. Myunggi had offed Thanos in such a demeaning way, with a small piece of cutlery, unassuming and unthreatening. And then he had been given more and more power every moment since, including Namgyu’s manpower and temporary loyalty. Like a reward. 

Namgyu winces and squeezes his eyes shut. Thinks again of Thanos sitting on his bed, curled up close and not letting his happy expression drop once. An hour spent wiping each other’s tears, painfully sober. The heat radiating from his palms, his chest, it had felt so true. Namgyu still feels hot, and when Thanos first left the room. Or perhaps disappeared back into Namgyu’s imagination- Namgyu had been left with a stupid smile on his face. It had lasted a long time. He had tried to do what Thanos suggested, get some good rest and believe that he will really see him tomorrow. But the longer the night got, the more he rationalized, and the dread began to take over. 

By morning, Namgyu has slept a whopping two hours, and he is just about completely convinced that Thanos had been a hallucination. 

He tries very hard to push down the little seed of hope, but it stays firmly nestled in his chest. And he doesn’t realize it, but he tramples through the morning with a shocking amount of grace. The result of this hope, no doubt. His nurse seems happy with the prospect of his more positive outlook, his sudden willingness to follow her and listen to her. Namgyu doesn’t even realize he’s doing this until it's far too late to fix it and go back to his aggressively uncooperative ways. Then, he is taken to group meeting, where he is sure he will see stupid fucking Minsu.

Instead. 

“Subong can you please just relax? You’ve been so excitable today,” It’s that first nurse that had given Namgyu the cross. the one that had shown him to his room on the check-in day. And he is facing a patient Namgyu hardly believes he is truly seeing. 

Thanos is standing there, in this big group therapy room, surrounded by other patients and many staff members. The windows out to the garden shine light down onto his smiling face, his hair brighter than Namgyu’s ad ever seen it. It almost reflects the light over at him in a sort os silvery way, so unlike the muggy office-like lighting of the games, or the dark pink of the club that blended everything together. Namgyu sees him so clearly right now. Standing there in those goofy pyjamas and slippers, he looks so clean and snug and. Thanos has never seen him look like this. he looks so sincere and happy and the little bit of hope that he had planted in Namgyu last night was clearly 

He’s looking right back at Namgyu, with a knowing look on his face, as if to say I told you so. And Thanos seems to remember himself, pulling the same notepad from last night out of his waistband. An item Namgyu thought his sleep-deprived, traumatized brain had just made the fuck up. An idea so out there, that Thanos may have survived those grizzly wounds, lived to see another day, only to be faced with the temporary (?) challenge of being voiceless. It had seemed so stupid to the Namgyu of last night, so unlikely and ridiculous. So naive. Now, as he listens to the familiar sound of Thanos’ marker against paper, Namgyu feels an intense wave of relief charge through him. It makes his whole body feel weak, his breathing nearly stops completely. It feels so warm and beautiful, he feels like he might keel over. 

Thanos’ notepad says ‘I TOLD YOU’, and Namgyu decides then and there that if the Thanos of last night is the real Thanos, then he should waste no time. He runs forward and captures Thanos in a hug, one they hadn’t really been able to do last night, with light touches and careful eyes, so little movement, so much emotion. there hadn’t been space to hold each other quite like this. They had been all twisted up. Now they stand upright against one another. They are closer now than they could have been last night, they are pressed right into each other, and the warmth Namgyu had thought felt so real, it all floods back into him in an instant. The sunlight flickering over them through the brush and the windows. 

There is a little whisper in the back of Namgyu’s head that tells him to be wary, to be careful. It taunts him with the idea that this is yet another fake. That he is so exhausted, or that his brain is so sick from the games, that he has molded the entirety of his surroundings to match this unachievable, impossible dream. It tells him that he has somehow changed even the nurses, posing them to appear as though Thanos is really here, moving the one nurse’s mouth, assigning him these words, placing Thanos’ name on his lips. 

This whisper is nothing compared to the great soaring joy that courses through him. The heat and the familiar comfort of their bodies together, the wheeze that escapes Thanos as he squeezes him tightly. He feels the breath against his ear, he feels some of his hair fly up with this breath. Thanos’ hands on him, his arms wrapping around him matching Namgyu’s hold on himself. The firm hold they have on each other, it is a tangible thing, Namgyu doesn’t think he is crazy enough to simulate such pressure. It feels so incredibly real, that Namgyu is all at once completely certain that they are both alive. That the dream has come true.

Determined not to fuck it all up like last night, crying or something similarly revolting— Namgyu begins to laugh. The better greeting, of course. And he knows Thanos must be happy too, he feels his body jitter in the confines of his arms, and knows they must both look like lunatics. Maybe they are. Namgyu is laughing and he thinks the nurses are chattering about something or other, but he can’t be fucked to pay any attention to it. Nothing else could pull him away right now. 

They don’t rock back and forth like a military husband holding his wife, switching the weight from foot to foot. They just stand there latched to each other and laugh in this room full of awkward people. Thanos’ hand is rubbing his back so soothingly, like he expects Namgyu to break down like he did the night before. It’s so sweet Namgyu almost thinks he might adhere to that assumption. Namgyu feels this sort of glowy feeling inside him, it’s unclear whether that’s to do with the sunlight beaming down on them or the general circumstances. But it feels like being high again. Not a care in the world, just endless energy, a smile, and a specific sense of ferocity. Suddenly, in this fantastic hug, he feels like they are a pair again, ready to take on just about anything. He feels like he is buzzing, hopping up and down with his fists balled and his pupils blown, eager to sprint out into some kill ring and end it all side by side. Alive and fearless and confident. He feels like this place cannot impact him anymore, nor can the heaviness of the last several days of his life. Suddenly, none of it fucking matters! The worst is over, the sun has risen, he has reached the end of the tunnel, he has made it through the proving grounds. 

Namgyu thinks then, suddenly, still holding Thanos and listening to his huffy giggly breaths: perhaps the hospital was some sort of gift. Because, despite his reluctance or outright refusal to admit it, Namgyu doubts he could have spent much time at all outside alone. Everything had felt dead and grey, cold and pointless and empty. He hadn’t slept a wink, he hadn’t had a single positive thought about the world since he saw that ever-spreading pool of thick red blood on the floor of the bathroom. Maybe, as much of a strong man he likes to be, he would have dipped right back into the club and finally pushed it too far. He feels like he would have. Would have done something, some THINGS, overdone some things. Would have found himself with a pounding heart or blackening vision in the alley by the dumpster, would have blinked and maybe never seen earth again. Would have never known Thanos had lived. 

Namgyu doesn’t believe in that divine intervention shit quite like Thanos does. That whole ‘meant to be’ spiel to Minsu about the card and the bridge, it had all seemed a little much to Namgyu. But he understands where he’s coming from, and for some reason right now in Thanos’ grip, he feels himself shiver a little at the thought of the bridge. Namgyu doesn’t believe in that shit, but it feels like maybe for once he ended up in the right place. The worst place ever after that fucking island, sure, but the same place as Thanos. Both of them sober. Thanos shockingly alive —and perhaps even more shockingly— interested in reigniting whatever they had going on. 

They finally part, and Namgyu is so pleasantly surprised by Thanos’ willingness to keep holding on, as they hold each other by the elbow. They stare at each other, and Namgyu is overwhelmed by how Thanos looks right now. It’s so different, it feels like some huge prize, to see him this way. The pyjamas are so funny, but Thanos somehow makes them look in style still, the same way he had with the sweatsuits. The way he carries himself is just unmovable, no ugly piece of clothing could ever taint his image. In fact, Namgyu distinctly remembers several instances where Thanos came into the club wearing various offensively hideous items. He always managed to make it look cool. He looks fucking cool, he looks handsome, he has an almost cocky smile on his lips, similar to the one he had used to approach the girls they met in the games. His eyes are bright, almost glittery, maybe thats Namgyu’s imagination. He looks so fucking good. 

Namgyu feels that sort of ragey feeling you get when you want to hug a cute little animal to death. He lets both of his hands tighten around Thanos’ arms, tugging some of the shirt fabric up into his hold, trying to hold back from jumping him again. 

Namgyu isn’t sure how this happened, in hindsight. They had been excessively intimate in the club, sure, but that's how it goes sometimes when Namgyu makes himself known. When he appears more than he is technically supposed to, offers more than he is technically supposed to, justifies it with the profit, the fame and the pull Thanos has. Of course things happen. He will admit that a particular night had been a little much. Certainly more than Namgyu usually does for club-goers, famous or not. And now he wishes he had been a little more sober when it had happened, wishes quite badly that he could remember more of the kisses they shared that evening. But Namgyu senses that Thanos has likely shared an evening like that with countless people. 

But the games were a unique situation that even Namgyu couldn’t define. What they had created in there is difficult for Namgyu to really grasp. All he knows is that it had felt right to be with him, by his side, fighting together. And when he ‘died’ it had felt like nothing could ever be right again. All of that feels a lot more profound than a drunken makeout.  

As previously mentioned, almost more shocking than Thanos having survived, is the fact that he may feel the same way. May feel this rightness, and subsequent wrongness that comes from being apart. It is hard to believe Namgyu had trapped him like that. Really? Had he? This isn’t some sort of big prank? Maybe Thanos had greeted Minsu with a similarly intimate conversation in the dark of one of these bedrooms… and received a crushing hug in the daylight.. 

Namgyu stops that train of thought quickly, because he realizes that there is an imminent wave of fury that comes with it. The idea of Minsu being anywhere near Thanos in the way Namgyu had been the night before, it lights his veins on fire, it makes his heart tighten. Namgyu nearly glances backwards at the seat he had noticed Minsu in when he entered, nearly gives him the time of day, but he just can’t pull his eyes away from Thanos’ cheerful perfect face. Namgyu feels like everything is happening now, feels like life has resumed. He feels like the previous days hadn’t counted. That they had been losses that can be swiped aside and discarded. That this is the truth. 

“I really can’t believe it,” Namgyu says. And he doesn’t really mean to say it quietly, he doesn’t care what the other fucks in the room think. For all he cares they can watch Namgyu jack off, what does it matter to him what they see? But it comes out like a whisper sort of. And it feels right, like everything else, and Thanos’ smile only gets bigger as he ducks closer to listen. “I was starting to think I dreamt it.” 

And at this, Thanos’ eyes go wide and he hurriedly shushes Namgyu. Full on index finger to lips shushing. Namgyu realizes he had been a little careless, that maybe it does matter what they see, a few things matter if they’re going to keep the nighttime visit a secret. Thanos looks hilariously worried about it, almost uncharacteristically so. But Namgyu is reminded that he has only ever seen Thanos at his most invulnerable, his most powerful, highest form. This could very well be the usual level of carefulness he exhibits. Namgyu thinks back to the very first game, where Namgyu had seen Thanos’ cool vanish briefly, just between that girl getting shot in the head and Thanos popping that first pill. He had seen him shaking, the blood splatter on his pretty face. Namgyu had been shaking too, and everything had been blurry in that moment, but he remembers Thanos’ horrified expression. Funnily, this face right now at the notion of them being exposed and potentially barred from seeing each other— it almost looks like it harbours more terror. More terror than watching that girl get shot right in fucking front of him. Namgyu can’t help it. He’s flattered. 

At the aggressive hushing, Namgyu laughs, a little hysterically, because he is still struggling to be fully present right now with the nature of this interaction. Can he be blamed? He runs a hand through his hair and steps back slightly. Thanos doesn’t let him get far, sort of comes forward with him and keeps them attached.  

“Namgyu I need you to sit down,” Namgyu’s bitch nurse says, but it doesn’t have nearly as much bite behind it as usual. She sounds lost. Namgyu does not even look at her, still absorbed by his giggle fit as Thanos smiles and shakes with laughter with him. They’re still holding on to each other. It feels so good. 

“Namgyu, now.” The fucking nurse repeats. 

“Can you-? Oh my god,” Namgyu sighs, still laughing a little bit even through the evident frustration in his voice. Thanos seems to find the nurse’s anger funny too, because his shoulders shake harder and he looks a little pink in the face. The colour looks so good on him, so much better than the pallor that had chased him to the bathroom floor. So much better than the dim musty light of the games bedroom. ”Just give me one fucking second.” 

Thanos pulls Namgyu back in for one more hug, seemingly smart enough to know that any second now they are going to be pulled apart to get this meeting underway. They’re lucky that the group therapist isn't here yet. It’s an even tighter squeeze than the first time, if that's even possible, and Namgyu laughs through it happily, and wraps his arms around Thanos’s shoulders like he can’t get close enough. 

Namgyu knows he can be a clingy, touchy, sort of a possessive personality. He knows that. He’s been told that enough times to pounce on the next person that repeats it. But, unlike the many moments of unrequited touchy-feeliness in the games, which had been soothed by Thanos’ consistent bounciness, his energy rubbing off on Namgyu, his cool-factor only sucking Namgyu further in despite being a little too cool to hang off of Namgyu the same way he did him. Unlike all of that: this Thanos, sober Thanos, survivor Thanos, though seemingly just as fucking cool, is almost equally eager to hold and feel and be close to Namgyu. This equal desire sizzles between them, Namgyu hears it crackle. It is as if they sit across from each other at a campfire they have just lit. Like the fire will burn forever now and they are both throwing the wood in and fucking .. adding newspaper or whatever else you do when you camp. It’s not just Namgyu throwing shit into the fire and Thanos sort of.. pretending he doesn’t enjoy the heat. Putting on a cool face for the hundreds of people around them. 

Thanos lets Namgyu go and gives him a light shove towards his chair. Namgyu laughs and gives in, turning to sit down and let himself be strapped to the chair. He would be upset about the lack of Thanos’ hands on him now, but he can still feel the burn of them. As though branded, Namgyu feels a tingly sting in all the places Thanos had touched, his entire back on fire with the circle Thanos had rubbed. Namgyu thinks he might be grinning like an idiot. He doesn't even have to be told to place his hands on the armrests. He just does it. Thanos sits down too, a few seats away from Namgyu in his designated spot, and he places his notepad in his lap, ready to contribute to the conversation. 

In the daylight, with this beautiful confirmation that there may be something worth sitting through this shit for— Namgyu tackles the stupid meeting with a sharp tongue. He makes a couple jokes that Thanos laughs about, and then he sits tight and waits as patiently as he possibly can for this to be over. He is rewarded handsomely when the people all filter out and Namgyu is left in the room with only Thanos remaining. 

They sit down again, pull their chairs real close together and firstly just gaze at each other again. Something like what they had done last night. Something like what they had done in the dingy, dusty darkness of the games. Thanos’ hidden bunk, tucked into a corner. Still winding down from the high and the day’s experience, they had just sat and been together, and maybe Namgyu had crawled up and cuddled him like a fucking lonely girlfriend. And he had looked at the cross a lot, hanging from his friend’s chest, but he had also looked up at Thanos quite a bit. And sometimes, caught Thanos looking down at him too, a little smirk on his face, expectant or amused, or maybe fond. Like he thought maybe Namgyu being attached to him that way was entertaining, or, if Namgyu was to read into it a little more and maybe toot his own horn— Thanos had liked the way Namgyu looked against him. 

Now they are so close their knees are slotted together, and Namgyu prompts Thanos to pull out his little notepad.

“When will you be able to talk again?” Namgyu asks. Thanos simply shrugs, the smile hasn’t left his face despite the subject of the conversation being rather depressing. Namgyu realizes maybe it wasn’t so tactful to bring it up first. But Thanos doesn’t seem to care. ”Does it still hurt?”

Thanos nods vigorously, like he can’t confirm enough. It makes Namgyu feel sore inside, like he too has been horrifically injured and rendered mute. 

“Did it hurt when I touched it?” Namgyu asks, and he lowers his voice, as though there is anybody else in the room, as though he would care if there were. Thanos shakes his head this time, sharply, confidently. Namgyu hums. “Should I do it again?” 

Thanos doesn’t nod or shake his head, only leans closer. 

Namgyu takes that as a yes. He first places his hand on Thanos’ bicep, then traces upwards lightly, one single finger leading his entire hand to the shoulder, lat, the connecting bend of his neck, and eventually the large bandages. Namgyu lets his fingers just kind of prance about the area, just very gently brushing the tips along the material. Thanos shudders, instinctively, then makes sure to smile, likely as not to assure Namgyu he is fine with this. 

”How often do they redress them?” Namgyu murmurs, tracing around the bandages in big squares on Thanos’ skin. Thanos marks down a few words in notepad and turns it for Namgyu to read. 

‘Too often,’ Thanos has written. Namgyu can’t imagine it’s a pleasant process. He can’t imagine the stab wounds are anything near good condition right now, only a few days out. Is it.. going on a week now? 

“When we get out of here,” Namgyu says, leaning close to Thanos. He gets extra close to his ear for the next bit. Then he switches to a full whisper. “I’ll redress them for you.” 

Thanos must not be able to control it, he shudders again and he lets out a small puff of breath. It’s a laugh, Namgyu supposes, but it sounds more like an attempt to compose oneself. Namgyu is satisfied with his own work.  

”Do you remember what happened?” Namgyu asks, and he’s not actually sure what he is asking about specifically. Does Thanos remember when he got hurt? Does he remember everything that happened after? When did he wake up? ”I mean, the rescue?” 

Thanos shakes his head. It’s a subtle thing, almost like it disturbs him too. That one second he was there on the floor, almost dead, and another second he was alive somewhere else. 

“Me neither really,” Namgyu says. “I guess I got shocked when I fell-“

Thanos sort of juts his head forward like he is confused about this particular thing. Thanos lowers both of his eyebrows and opens his mouth as though he might be saying ‘huh?’ Or ‘what?’ Namgyu thinks for a moment, before understanding the situation.

”I’m fine,” He assures him first. Thanos relaxes a little bit. Namgyu continues to feel at the bandages. “The last game we played.. tried to play, before they took the whole thing down— it was jump rope.” 

Thanos tilts his head, a small bemused smile twitching at his lips. Namgyu can’t blame him. All of the games they played were pretty silly in retrospect. If there hadn’t been the risk of death, it would have been fun to revisit such childish activities. 

“It had to have been a hundred feet up in the air. Big bridge that we had to cross while the ‘rope’” Namgyu pauses his touching to make quotation marks with his fingers. “Would try to trip you and throw you off. The rope was actually this big bar made of metal.”

Thanos’ smile has disappeared. He looks at Namgyu with deep concern. He points a finger at Namgyu’s chest, as if to ask ‘you fell?’

”Yes I fell, but those guys that rescued us, they had it all figured out,” Namgyu says, resuming and placing his fingers back on Thanos’ neck. Thanos sort of leans into it. “They had a net ready just a little ways under the platform. Nobody actually got hurt during that one. That loser Minsu threw the.. uhm.”

Namgyu doesn’t know if he should even tell this to Thanos. Should he tell him he got fucking baited into almost dying? Does it look desperate or pathetic that he ran after the cross like that? Empty, no less. Would Thanos have done the same? Surely not. 

Thanos nods like he wants Namgyu to continue. Namgyu bites his lip.

“I was the first to go out, and then those guys all came out of nowhere and held the real guards at gunpoint. They were all in disguise, did you see them?” Namgyu asks, wondering if maybe Thanos was awake at any part of his rescue. 

Thanos shakes his head, then looks down to write something. 

‘Passed out in the bathroom, woke up in hospital,’ He writes. Namgyu nods. 

“Well they dressed like guards.. none of us had any clue they were in there with us. I was the only person that tried to play the jump rope game,” Namgyu explains, slowly. Thanos seems to think on that for a second or two, before he writes again. 

“Y did you go first?” Thanos writes. Namgyu chews at his lip again.

”Minsu ah.. uh.,” Namgyu stops and places a hand on his face, dragging it down across his skin, which feels hot all of the sudden. He feels flushed, embarrassed. ”He threw the..”

Thanos nods again, and pokes at Namgyu’s arm playfully, like he can’t wait for him to finish his explanation. Namgyu sighs and lets his hand fall. And then he pulls out Thanos’ cross from the waistband of his pyjamas. He holds it up in the air for Thanos to see. Namgyu is still bothered that they took the chain off of it. 

“Minsu threw your cross out onto the bridge,” Namgyu says, lowly. As if to emphasize that it was Thanos’, that this was the importance, Namgyu pokes Thanos’ chest. Thanos doesn’t seem to understand at first, just staring at Namgyu and trying to figure out the correlation. Namgyu sees the moment it hits him. The moment he realizes that Namgyu had ran out onto that death trap to retrieve HIS cross. Thanos’ eyes go all wide, and his skin seems to redden just slightly. His lips part, and his pupils shake. Thanos ducks his head down, presumably to write. 

‘You ran out to get it back? My drugs?’ Thanos writes. 

”I had to,” Namgyu tells him. Thanos shakes his head like that's bullshit. 

“I needed it,” Namgyu insists. 

‘The drugs????’ Thanos writes. 

“You,” Namgyu tells him. Thanos’ eyebrows shoot upwards. Although the drugs had certainly been a fucking part of it. He knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere alone and sober. He knew he needed that cross. He also knew he should be completely honest. “..And the drugs." 

Thanos grins, like he loves this answer. Probably both halves of it. And he drops the notepad and tugs Namgyu into their third hug of the day. Namgyu relaxes into it like it's the only hug he has ever received in his life. 

“I was in a bad way.. I thought I could handle two pills.. but then I lost the cross for a bit and I couldn't take the withdrawals,” Namgyu whispers in Thanos’ ear. As though this recollection is something intimate or secretive or.. sensual or something. “I felt like it was all over… you were gone and..”

Namgyu doesn’t know how to finish that. Thanos pulls away, gives him a pensive expression before moving to write again. Namgyu wishes so badly that he could talk. It must be torture for a guy that never shuts up. And Namgyu isn’t used to doing so much of the talking anyway. Usually he’s the one who hangs back and follows. 

‘It’s intense stuff, right?’ Thanos writes. When Namgyu nods he continues. ‘It’s a brand new thing. I knew u could take that shit cuz u showed me your track marks, but damn. 2 at once is out there. No wonder u were struggling.’

”It wasn’t the high.. really, uhm. More the comedown. Well I guess the high was intense too. I was seeing you, actually,” Namgyu tells him. Thanos recoils with a strange look on his face, like he is surprised. Namgyu hurries to make it sound less creepy and weird. “I mean uh- I was seeing things like. Dead people and .. yeah.” 

Thanos looks at him kind of knowingly. 

“But I was ecstatic, it was.. magical. That stuff is crazy. I was shocked the withdrawals came so quickly too,” Namgyu ponders. “I wouldn’t have made it through without them.. Without you..”

Thanos looks like he wants to speak, but instead he just raises his hand up and pokes at Namgyu’s nose, like he’s a cat or something. 

“Dude!” Namgyu falls backwards slightly in his chair, and Thanos starts to laugh. Namgyu is so pissed off that he can’t listen to him laugh either. God he hopes the doctor clears him to use his voice again soon. 

‘I can get you more of that once we get out’ Thanos writes. And Namgyu is delighted at the prospect of sticking together once they get out of here. He’s delighted that they’re on the same page. That Thanos might feel the exact same way about belonging together or.. feeling good together. It’s like in a romance novel when they talk about soulmates or fucking instantly bonding. When you click with somebody like you were always bound to find each other. It’s dumb as fuck, but Namgyu kind of feels like he understands the appeal now. It feels a lot more real when it has happened to you. 

“I can get you good stuff too, you know how it is with me,” Namgyu tells him, and gives him a light smack on the arm. He wants to remind Thanos that this isn’t some kind of sugar friendship situation, Thanos doesn’t need to take care of his little addict like he .. might have had to in the games. Namgyu has his own connections, his own avenues, his own suppliers. If anything, he could probably hook Thanos up with a lot more than Thanos could ever find for him. Big artists like to pretend they know their Amy around the scene, but Namgyu knows its surface-level. And Thanos might be able to find the new stuff easily, because who would turn down a famous guy? But Namgyu knows where the good stuff is. 

‘Relax,’ Thanos writes, smiling the whole while. ‘We can take care of each other, my boy.’

And Namgyu instantly feels embarrassed for worrying about it. He can’t take back the desperation he exuded in the games. But he had also already established himself as a self-sustained addict before the games even happened. Thanos already knew him as a capable guy. Flirty or beggy or not, once couldn’t deny that Namgyu knew how to keep himself happy. He worked, he survived, and he supported his own bad choices with more bad choices. Which is how it is when you’re not a has-been famous rapper using all your old funds to party before you kill yourself. 

“Can I ask,” Namgyu suddenly says, before he can stop himself. “Why you came looking for me?” 

Namgyu knows it must sound stupid. But he wants some sort of extra verbal confirmation of Thanos’ mindset. Based on their interaction the night before, Namgyu can only assume that Thanos is thinking the same way about him as Namgyu is about Thanos. But you can never be too sure. He wants to hear it from him. That they feel right. That they feel good together. That he missed him so bad like Namgyu did. 

‘You were all I could think about,’ Thanos writes. And he writes it slowly, he writes it steadily and carefully. The words for once coming out neatly and almost elegantly. Namgyu feels his heart try to escape his chest. Then, without looking up to see Namgyu’s reaction to that sentence, Thanos starts writing again. Still slowly, carefully. ‘The second we were apart I just thought.. it was wrong.’

Namgyu almost actually gasps when he reads that. Because not only are they on the same page, they’re using the same fucking descriptors. Namgyu just wants to fucking jump on him and send his chair down to the floor backwards. Tackle him to the ground, straddle him and.. Just wants to pull him by the neck all the way back to his apartment and.. Take him to the club and find a free back room and..

”I felt the same way,” Namgyu tells him, softly, quietly, once again as if he is afraid of someone hearing. Like he wouldn’t glue himself to Thanos right in the middle of his workplace. Like he hasn’t before. Like he wouldn’t get fired from his job for serving all their oldest bottles on a guy who doesn’t give a shit what he puts down his throat. ”I missed being with you.” 

Namgyu isn’t sure what this is exactly, but it feels like a partnership. The same one they had formed in the games, coming out to play once more. The more specific labels could wait. 

Thanos blinks slowly, and leans forward towards Namgyu to grab at his face again. Namgyu follows his lead. Like he always does. Then, Thanos lets one hand trace down to Namgyu’s arm, and then it slithers itself through the gap between his elbow and his torso. He moves to link their arms together like they had done in the mingle game. Dancing around like fools on that spinning platform. Namgyu breaks out into a smile.

“The nurses are being strict with me,” Namgyu tells him, as Thanos plays with his hair, twirling some of it around his finger. The small pains that bloom on his scalp as Thanos sort of tugs at it, it makes sparks appear all throughout his body. “They will probably come get me soon. I’m not supposed to be anywhere with other patients unrestrained.” 

Thanos mouths that that's bullshit, and Namgyu couldn’t agree more. But Thanos also doesn’t know that Namgyu tried to choke the life out of Minsu a day ago. Or at least, Namgyu is pretty sure he doesn't know that. Namgyu thinks if he worked in a goddamn mental hospital he’d probably lock up the crazies that tried to choke people out too. 

Thanos lets go of Namgyu only to write again. Namgyu feels the mingle lights and the people all around them fade. The orange hue of the room dissipates, replaced with reality. The sunny meeting room. Just them. 

‘What have u been doing with your time? All alone?’ Thanos asks. And its sort of sweet of him to ask. There are a lot— practically endless— other, better, more important things for Thanos to ask him about. As far as Namgyu is aware, he doesn’t even know about keys and knives. Or the fate of most of the people they got to know. Aside from fucking Minsu. 

“..reading,” Namgyu admits, a little embarrassed, if he is completely honest. But Thanos smiles. Namgyu wants to say more about it if Thanos wants to hear it, but he notices that the nurses are peeking inside watching them. They look antsy, like they want to come in. He groans as he locks eyes with one of them.

When Thanos hears his noise of discomfort, he turns to see what Namgyu is looking at. When he sees the nurses outside, peering inside the room and looking as though they intend to enter— Thanos hurries to write one more thing on his notepad. 

‘Tonight I will come get u,’ Thanos writes. And he turns a fresh page over to hide this just at the same moment as the nurses come in to take Namgyu back to his room. 

Chapter Text

When Semi wakes, she feels nothing but pain. And she can’t really think about anything at all. She just lays there, shocked, confused, half convinced that the hospital room is in fact the afterlife. Her own survival is a thing of storybook level miracle. She has frankly no clue how it is that she ended up safe and alive in this hospital room and not very dead on the floor of the giant games bedroom. 

She thinks first about how much it hurts, about how every part of her is aching and screaming and begging for some sort of relief. And then she thinks of Namgyu’s deranged face. His crazed eyes and scrunched up nose when he first approached her. The gross self-love with which he had cockily brushed his hair out of his face, stumbled towards her all confident-like. A man who had come straight from one kill to commit another. Completely gone. Completely lost. She knew then that this was one thing or another. Not the man she had met in the second game, or every bit the man she had met in the second game. Namgyu in a state of madness, a temporary slip, or Namgyu on full display, a reveal. She could not decide in the short time which she believed. 

His remorseless expression when he pulled himself up and away from her body, which had been numb in shock at the time. She remembers groaning, her voice making the blood flowing out of her mouth bubble and gurgle in a sinister way. She remembers Minsu’s little face peeking over the railings of one of the bunk beds, staring down at her in her peripherals. 

Semi remembers the acceptance she had come to just before blacking out. She had thought for sure that it was over. She had briefly regretted her decision to stay, and then remembered things would have likely ended just the same on the outside. And she remembers having thought, just for a millisecond, that she was glad she tried. She fought and put her all into it. What more can a person give? 

And now, in the bright white room full of beeps and electric noise, she can only be amazed. Apparently a person can give a lot more. A sign, maybe, that she should and would give a lot more. She’d live on and do something better. Be better, try harder, put her all into something greater. She’s alone here, but her survival feels like a companion itself. Some sort of strange confidence that consumes her. And the pain of her wounds is undeniable, but it fades slightly in place of this confidence. This big surge of pride. She had made it through. 

Just as fucking poor as before that whole nightmare, but she had made it and she has another chance. She can find some other way. 

Semi can’t help but feel vaguely peeved at the prospect that it was a fellow player that had taken her out. Not the guards, or the rules of the games. Nothing like that. Not her own inability or her own mistake. Just a fucking crazy person with nothing better to do in the dead of night. The fact that Namgyu had had the satisfaction of removing her from the playing, it is almost worse than the satisfaction he would have had if he succeeded in killing her.

Who knows? Maybe right now he is under the impression that he HAD succeeded. It will be funny to show up and tell him he failed. ..If he is even still alive. 

Semi thinks again of Minsu, as the nurses realize that she is awake, and some hurried movement happens all around her. Maybe giving her pain medication? She’s not sure what’s going on. But she thinks of Minsu in this haze of motion, thinks of his scared face and his complete lack of determination. She wonders what he had been thinking, through all of it, but mostly at her end. What she thought was her end. She wonders if he thinks she’s dead. If he thinks of that hand motion he threw in the mingle game. If it haunts him. The peace sign flipped on its side, the pair of scissors cutting their short-lived shitty little bond, cutting whatever trust she had in him, cutting it open and apart. Slicing and watching the blood shoot upwards. 

“Hello Semi,” a nurse says. And it’s muffled behind the ringing in Semi’s ears. 

The nurse has long brown hair that curls into little helixes, it's so pretty. It flows down over her shoulders to elbow level. Semi watches it bounce as the nurse makes her way over to check something on a machine at Semi’s side. Semi is so dizzy that the nurse’s image sort of blurs and shivers in her line of sight, like she is in multiple places at once. The pain is so bad that it makes her head feel like it might just explode, and her vision seems to fall to the side as a result. 

Another nurse, with a bob similar to that tall girl in the games, comes to greet Semi as well. And, despite the pain, Semi feels like she’s kind of in heaven. 

“We’re so happy to see you finally awake, Semi,” the bob haircut nurse says. And her eyes crinkle in a way that suggest that she is smiling beneath her mask. Semi tries to smile back, but the oxygen mask over her face makes it sort of tough. The nurse laughs a little at the attempt. “Don’t worry about trying to make me comfortable, Semi. You’ve been sleeping for five days.” 

Semi’s eyes bulge out of her head. Five days? Is that why her pain is just miserable and not completely unbearable? 

“You became unconscious due to your wounds and you were saved and kept alive for two days before being extracted and brought here. It’s been a rough ride, and we’re overjoyed to see you pulling through,” The long-haired nurse says, looking away from the machine briefly to alls presumably smile at Semi. Semi again tries to smile back. She earns twin giggles. 

“You’re a fighter, Semi,” The bob nurse says. “I can’t imagine the pain you’re dealing with right now. We’re going to set you up with some painkillers and make sure you’re feeling comfortable before the officers come in.” 

“You haven’t even explained-“ The long haired nurse butts in. The bob nurse waves her off. 

“Right right,” The bob nurse says. “Some victim’s services officers and the like need to come in and speak to you. They are going to be asking some tough questions, so we need you to be feeling good.” 

Semi tries to mumble into the mask, but she feels like death and her voice comes out all hoarse and breathy. It sounds like nothing at all, actually. She means to ask the nurses how the hell she is supposed to feel good right now, but it seems as though she won’t be asking anyone a single damn thing as long as she’s in this state. Which makes her wonder how they think she will answer questions. 

Could they not give her maybe at least an afternoon to collect herself? She has just realized that her life is in fact resuming, so she can’t imagine how she might answer any weird suspicious questions from curious police officers who don’t understand the severity of what she has just experienced. 

They do wait a while to have the officers come in. Semi does get the entire afternoon to come to her senses. And with proper drugs she feels well enough to speak and drink. She wouldn’t dare to eat anything, knowing from the numb swirly feeling in her stomach that she wouldn’t be able to keep anything down. The hours pass quickly as she sort of just fades in and out of reality. She is not ashamed to admit that a lot of her time is spent pondering on the ending, what she thought were her final moments. She thinks that the rest of her life will probably be similarly plagued by these memories. 

The doctors have informed her that they think she can be safely discharged tomorrow at the earliest. She is astounded, really, that they are letting her go so quickly. Semi thinks that maybe there had been some sort of supernatural force looking after her. Like something had taken hold of Namgyu’s wrist and made sure he brought the fork, and then the glass shard down only in the least lethal places. A gift from a higher power, none of Semi’s organs had been touched. It was like Namgyu had had X-ray vision and he managed to miss every part of her that would have rendered her unsaveable. The state he was in, the mindlessness of his attack, Semi does not understand how that was the case. What were the odds that none of his maddened stabs had hit anything important? 

What’s more, how on earth had those undercover paramedics managed to save her when the weapon had been pulled out immediately each time? It wasn’t as though the wounds were properly plugged up, and it had taken them long enough to reach her that she had been completely unconscious. Bleeding out on the floor of that place. It all just seemed so unlikely. And Semi was really fighting with herself here in the hospital, even after twelve hours of lucidity, she couldn’t believe that this wasn’t some sort of cruel dream. A vision at the end of her life just before it all goes black forever. 

But the giggly nurses never fade away, and the beeps and distant talking from the hospital machines and the busy hallways do not disappear with time. It all stays, overwhelmingly loud and real. And the officers eventually finally arrive to speak to her, just before the sun is about to set. 

“Good evening Semi, we’re sorry to bother you while you’re healing,” One of the officers says. The other nods and silently writes some things into a clipboard as he observes her current health. Semi waves them off, although she isn’t happy at all that they’re here, she’d rather they get on with it so that they can leave quicker. The officers seem to get the hint. “Ahem. We are here to ask you a few questions about your situation, and hopefully assemble a good plan for your recovery.”

“Mm?” Semi hums, looking at them with a brow raised. What does that mean. Don’t they just let her go home and let her figure it out herself?

”You have to understand, because this is such a massive criminal ring with so many victims, we need to make sure we stay on top of your healing journey,” The officer continues. And Semi tries very very hard not to roll her eyes. She has been stabbed three times. No part of it is a journey of any kind. She sees where they are going with this, though. She imagines that everybody who was rescued from that place is going to be monitored for a while. Maybe months. 

“There are many others just like you in the hospital. Despite what you may be thinking, there are many in worse shape than you. Some people have also been placed in psychiatric care for the time being,” The officer explains. Semi can imagine the type of people that may have been put in a place like that. Probably half of the freaks in there deserved to get thrown behind bars, forget psychiatric care. ”You are going to be screened for this before you are sent home.”

Oh. They’re going to decide if SHE needs to go there? That’s actually the last thing she needs right now. Semi opens her mouth to speak, but the officer cuts her off. 

“For those living independently, we have established small groups with other victims for bi-weekly therapy,” The officer says. And that's not all that much better. Is that mandatory? “So, if it is decided that you are in a good mental state to head home and move on with life, you will have that support in place. Don’t worry.”

Semi is not worried. But she would be a lot happier about all of this if they would just leave her alone. So if she doesn’t go to inpatient she has to attend some goofy meetings every other week? Or do they mean semiweekly? Twice a week?! 

”I’d be fine on my own..” Semi manages to get out, and she cringes at her rough voice. It sounds like she has been run over by a truck. 

“We understand that, Semi. But this is just something we have put in place for everybody. As your victim services officers, we can always check in in a month or so and see if you really are good to go without the meetings. It won’t be forever,” The officer says. Semi sighs. It also sounds rough. 

“But let's not get ahead of ourselves,” The officer says. “You will be screened tomorrow before being discharged, and then sent either home or to the designated place of psychiatric care depending on your results. There is no pressure, this is all just to help you settle back into your life after such a traumatizing experience.” 

There absolutely is pressure. Semi would rather live a mostly normal life at home and have to show up at some corny talk sessions than be stuck like a prisoner just like she was in the games. 

The officers ask her many more questions, and Semi tries to make sure they realize how bored and annoyed she is so that they will go away as fast as possible. This seems to make no difference, however, as they continue their horrible streak of invasive questions for at least an hour and a half. By the time they’re gone, Semi is sure they are going to show up in her nightmares.

She wonders if everybody else is being treated the same way. Being aggressively coddled and interrogated in her first day back on planet earth, it's not the greatest welcome. She wonders if the last five days for those who weren’t injured into sleep have been filled with this. She wonders if when she leaves they will check in via cell phone, or if they might arrive on her front step and insist they forgot to ask her about one thing or another. Suddenly, against all odds, Semi feels like she needs to talk to somebody else in the same position as herself. 

She realizes not a moment later, that that is exactly what the officers insisted she would need. It is the whole reason why they have arranged these group meetings with other players from the games. Survivors, she should call them. Semi wonders then, if when she attends said meeting, she will find anybody she was somewhat close to. She wonders if she will see Minsu. 

It turns out that she will not know quickly, because the following day, Semi is told that unfortunately she will not be discharged yet. She wasn’t all that shocked when the two sweet nurses helped her have her first solid meal and softly spoke their apologies to her. They tell her that another couple of days in the hospital would probably do her good. 

“Now that you’re awake, we can do some physical therapy and make sure you’re in good shape to be walking and moving around on your own at home,” The long-haired nurse tells her, with a smile that sparkles. And Semi smiles back, mouth closed and still chewing her breakfast. She feels woozy about swallowing it.

”We will do your mental health screening later today, maybe after lunch,” The nurse with the bob says. “How does a walk around the hospital sound? We should get you up and moving sooner rather than later.”

The days sort of blend together after that. They do the screening, and she is told the following day by the grace of something or other that she is NOT required to go into inpatient. Thank everything good. They reiterate that she will need to attend the bi-weekly meetings, and she inquires this time about whether they intend to say twice a week or every other week. To her …delight, they say it means twice a week. She doesn’t think a frown has ever formed on her face so quickly. 

But, she thinks, at least she will get to speak to other survivors. Outside of the professional clinical sphere of the meeting, she sort of looks forward to pulling somebody aside afterwards and asking them how things are going. Being asleep for five days shouldn’t make you feel so behind. But somehow, Semi feels as though she has missed a year of her life. Everything is just happening, and it feels like they’re in the midst of tying up the games with a nice little bow for the law to deal with. Hyper-focused on the whereabouts and wellbeing of the victims. It’s good, she supposes, that they are getting this attention. But she doesn’t really want it.

She’s sure she’d be happier to just seek out other survivors on her own. Track down a facebook group or something. She doesn’t even use facebook. 

She is finally let out of the hospital after three days of being awake. Taking the train all the way back to her tiny apartment feels otherworldly. It feels so strange to just be thrown back into the world after what she has experienced. And, as silly as it sounds, she somehow feels extra alone. Even more alone than she felt before the games. It is almost as if she has lost more than what she had to begin with. Whatever small fondness had come to life within the games, whatever little inkling of friendship she felt may have existed. It was gone and dead the same as most everything else in her life. 

As the city passes by in a blur, Semi thinks hard about what’s ahead of her. Those people were just as stuck as she was. They were desperate losers with no hope, same as her. And now, the better half of them were likely dead. Semi wonders just how many survivors there were. Just how many went to psychiatric care. Just how many she might happen upon at the meeting this evening. What comes after all of this? What happens when she attends the last meeting with this group of equally troubled individuals? What happens when they say she’s fine to continue on as normal? Does she do just that? Try again to find work? 

How could she survive an office job after all of this? Everything feels so miniscule now. Looking out at the city as it flies by, she wonders how many of those people walking around have seen the things that Semi has seen. How many of them have had to move on similarly, try to forget about the people she saw shot and killed. 

When she arrives home, it feels like the place has almost shifted and changed to match her state of mind. An inconceivable amount of dust has built up for the short while that she has been gone. Unfair. And the dingy musty nature of the apartment seems dingier and mustier than before, if possible. Darker than ever. The light filtering in through her rotting curtains seems to make the whole place glow brown and spotty through the patchy fabric. Ibuprofen sits open on the countertop, the headache she had been complaining so much about before being kidnapped— it seems so stupid now. Her recycling sits in the corner next to the kitchen counter, the buildup of beer cans and coolers from the last time she had that girl over. How would that girl have felt knowing what Semi has seen. What she had subjected people to, having voted blue. She swallows, sets down her small bag of things from the hospital, and she turns around.

Semi does not spend any time in her apartment her first day back. She locks it right back up and goes to sit on a park bench instead. 

It all seems fake now. The world she knew completely flipped up on its head. She sits there in the chilly afternoon breeze, her hands clasped together in her lap, staring straight forward at the cityscape. The meeting is to take place in four hours, and Semi spends three and a half of them sitting here in this same position. 

The hours pass achingly slowly, but she does not get up or move at all. Completely struck by the memory of that place. And how strong she had felt in the moment. How eager she had been to continue, confident she would be able to get what she needed. Confident that she preferred this over the outside world. In all of its cruelty. 

And now. Sitting here, watching all sorts of lives play out in front of her. Semi can’t help but feel that she was wrong. That as horrifically evil the world can be, there is nothing like this inside the games. No peaceful park benches. No moments of gratitude or love. 

She watches as a small child drops her ice cream, and a bird swoops down to start pecking at the spot on the pavement where it landed. The little girl had been nearing tears, but upon seeing the bird enjoying the treat, she smiles and laughs. Her mother tugs her away with a matching smile. 

Semi watches as an older man with a dog stops to let his dog meet another person’s dog. The two animals running around each other and sniffing wildly. The two owners begin to converse, talking about how lovely the park is for their pets. 

Semi watches as a young woman calls her dad on the phone, tells him about her day, exclaims that the concert she went to recently was so great. Tells her dad she loves him, misses him, will see him soon.

Semi wonders how many of the people in the games have known small, sweet moments like this. Or if all of them are as blind to it as Semi is. As stuck in the ground by their financial situation as she has always been. The unending struggle blocking any and all hope, any kind message, any chance of positivity and light into their vision. You can’t go relax in a park if you don’t have the time to. Working three jobs and still up to your neck In debt. Working four jobs and still struggling to pay for your parents to spend their last years in comfort. Working five jobs and still wondering how you will buy your dinner. Semi knows in the next few days she will have to figure something out, find a way to get to work again, maybe move in order to avoid her debt collectors.. But it feels trivial now. It feels possible now. Because she is not in immediate danger. 

The games reflect the real world, she thinks. All of them, the people who voted blue, all too familiar with the danger of greed, the wrath of those who lend. And yet, the games fail to capture the parts of life that make it worth fighting through injustice. The breeze slows and eventually dissipates in way of warm sunlight as the last half hour comes to a close. The light makes its way over the buildings and hills, heading downward. 

Semi knows she lives in an unfair situation. She knows that the people she meets with today do too. And she also knows that none of them will talk about their financial situation tonight. Instead, they will talk about the people they saw killed as a result of their financial situation. They will talk about how they were looked at like bugs on the ground. Things unworthy of happiness, stability, unworthy of life. They will talk about how it felt to be treated as a group defined by their debt. Defined by their desperation. 

She makes it her goal to instill a rage in them. The best revenge they could possibly get against those who treated them like animals, horses to bet on, the best way to get back at them— is to live. 

“Hello, welcome,” The officer at the door says, as Semi approaches the meeting room. It seems like it's been rented out in some office building. It’s nice enough. Nice bright light fixtures and clean floors. It's certainly a more uplifting space than her apartment. The officer has her locate her name on a checklist, and then he checks in a box beside it, she supposes to relay her attendance to her assigned care team. 

The officer lets her in, opening the door sort of slyly, as if he doesn’t want the office workers passing to see inside. As if it is anything more than people sitting in a large circle. 

Semi takes a moment to recognize anybody, if she is completely honest with herself. Without the identifying numbers and the contrast of the jumpsuits against their faces, it really does take a moment of squinting for her to put two and two together. Nobody is wearing anything close to a turquoise, notably most everybody is wearing something like grey or yellow. It seems like both the cool tones and the warmest ones bring up bad and fresh memories. Nobody dares to wear pink. The room is dull, full of grim faces.

Semi is shocked to be waved at by a familiar face. They hadn’t so much as spoken within the games, but player 120 had been a bold personality during the few games that Semi was around to see. During the very first one, red light green light, she had dashed back out onto the danger-zone to attempt to save that guy that had been shot in the leg. He was already doomed. And 120 had run out there and saved both him and 456. Despite the guy getting domed not a moment after they crossed the finish line, Semi could tell what kind of person 120 was. And after that, she only cemented herself in a leadership position. She carried her team through the six legged pentathlon. She had been the only one willing to smack that crazy woman into reality, she had been coaching virtually everybody. And as the first team to make it through successfully, Semi vividly remembers cheering them on. 

Semi remembers Namgyu and Thanos cheering too, just getting into their usual routine of popping a pill and immediately losing all cool. She remembers the specific sense of dread that had came over her upon realizing that none of her team members were shaping up to be half as capable as 120. She remembers glancing at Minsu, who had been shivering almost violently. She remembers thinking they were dead, her chest slowly deflating from the excitement of 120’s team surviving. 

120 made it out. She beckons Semi over like she knows her, even though they have never spoken. And, like the games, Semi gets the vague idea that perhaps 120 has taken up a leadership position on the outside as well. Not many people are talking. There are only a few conversations going on around the room, quiet ones. Almost everybody is already sitting in their seats, ready to start, but 120 is smiling, albeit a little flat and melancholy. 

Semi decides to walk over and join her. She realizes quickly that it is not just 120 that has taken up this side of the circle. She is joined by several other faces Semi thinks she remembers 120 sticking around with in the games. The short girl who .. Semi could have sworn had been pregnant. She sits there considerably smaller looking, perhaps helped by the tighter clothes she is wearing now. Next to her, the man who had been sporting the half-up hairdo. A military man, if memory serves. He has his hand on the small girl’s shoulder, and he is also giving a welcome expression to Semi. Despite looking pained. 

These two are not the only ones. There is also the son of the mother. The mother is nowhere to be seen, which makes Semi’s heart sink deeply. The son, wearing his same glasses, looks lifeless. He doesn’t bother looking up at Semi when she approaches. He only stares forward silently. Semi feels her heart pound. How many more games had they played while Semi had been asleep? Who else had been killed during that nighttime fight? What happened after? 

The last person that seems to be hanging around this particular group, is someone Semi would be hard pressed to forget. It’s 456. Looking worse for wear, definitely. But alive. He has a strange expression on his face. Something like vindication. Semi has to imagine he is extremely satisfied with the law coming down on the games. 

“Hey there,” half-up ponytail guy greets, softly. Semi flattens her lips into what could maybe pass as a smile, and she raises a hand shortly. 120 gestures for Semi to sit down in the empty seat next to pregnant girl. Or. No longer pregnant girl. 

“Hi, I remember seeing you with that rapper guy, right?” 120 says to Semi. And Semi has to suppress a sigh at the knowledge that all of these people must be associating her with Thanos. Mistakes were made. 

..Speaking of Thanos. Now, with her seated view of the room, looking out at the rest of the circle, it is easy to notice that he and the other idiots Semi had briefly run amok with, are nowhere to be seen. Not one of them is here. Semi remembers Namgyu’s little breakdown when Thanos’ number had been announced as eliminated. She remembers him running back into the room shouting, covered in blood. And Semi had been sure he had watched Thanos die. But.. Semi had lived. Who’s to say Thanos was not also rescued? For some reason, despite the complex relationship she had with all of them, Semi feels her chest tighten. Not even Gyeongsu? Why had Semi been rescued from death but he hadn’t? Had his gunshot wound been too severe? 

“I’m Hyunju,” Player 120 tells her, offering a somewhat deep nod. Semi bows back and then remembers shortly after that she should offer her name as well. 

“Ah- Semi,” She tells her. “You don’t happen to know if..”

”We’re not sure. Anybody who isn’t present here is either in the hospital or in some sort of adjacent care. Or.. gone,” Hyunju explains. “I’ve been working with the officers to organize this.”

”That’s.. good .. of you,” Semi says, unsure what else to call it. It is good, despite her holdups about attending. She would honestly prefer if it just stayed this way, casual discussion. She thinks once the whole room is involved in back and forth therapy-talk it’s going to get a little torturous. But this is alright. 

“So these are all the survivors that aren’t still hospitalized?” Semi asks, again.

Hyunju nods, then turns to introduce the rest of her group.

”This is Junhee,” She says, gesturing to the ex-pregnant girl. New mother? Semi has no clue. It’s a cute name though. Junhee offers a small wave. “Her baby is safe and sound at home.” 

Semi had assumed something horrible had happened to the baby. It’s frankly shocking that the child had survived, whether she gave birth in the last few days or within the confines of the games, Semi isn’t sure. Either way, it’s impressive. Semi would call it a miracle, if she believed in that stuff. 

“Next to her is Daeho,” Hyunju says, queuing a smile from the updo guy. Semi nods and tries to commit their names to memory. It feels awkward that she hadn’t really made any friendships with these people here. She’s all alone. Because she had decided to stick by a bunch of fucking addicts and losers. Probably dead addicts and losers. 

“And over here is Yongsik,” Hyunju says his name softly, as though he is the one who is struggling the most. Semi can only assume the worst. His mother must be gone. “He… was injured, and his mother couldn’t take it. She didn’t know he had been rescued.”

Oh. That’s .. horrible. 

“I’m so sorry,” Semi says, a little monotonously. And she can’t help it, she’s never been the friend anybody comes to for comfort. It’s a shitty attempt, but Yongsik nods gratefully and continues his dead-eyed staring at his lap. Hyunju places a comforting hand on his shoulder, before moving on to introduce the last person. 

“This is Gihun,” Hyunju continues, waving to 456. 456 gives a small smile. He looks older, somehow, softer than he had in the games. Like he has been brought peace. 

“Hello,” Semi greets. “You were uh.. I remember you.”

”Yes,” Gihun says, pointedly not laughing at this. But he does seem to be somewhat amused. “I think most do.” 

“Thank you for uh.. for trying to make me comfortable,” Semi says to Hyunju. Who waves it off dismissively. 

“I’m sorry none of your friends are here. Hopefully someone you know will come to the next one,” Hyunju responds. And Semi feels a wave of embarrassment descend upon her. She thinks of all the horrid things Thanos and Namgyu had done while in the games. Their incessant harassment of that one guy.. whatshisface.. the crypto nerd. Everybody in this room sees Semi, and subsequently sees them. Sees their bad deeds. Sees Thanos kick Gyeongsu to the ground. Sees them attack crypto guy in the bedroom. Dancing around like crazy people. Pulling people's hair to get their way, pushing people over in the very first game. Sentencing a bunch of people they don’t know to death. All of those acts are tied to Semi now. All of these people, trying so hard to make her feel alright, they see her as one of them. They see her as the way she voted. They must fucking hate her. 

She doesn't even know Minsu Namgyu and Thanos. If anything she should hate them too. They all wronged her. Namgyu almost killed her. Minsu almost got her killed. Thanos didn’t give a shit what happened to her. These people clearly care more than any of them ever did just for sparing her feelings. Just for welcoming her to this meeting without hostility. How can Hyunju talk about them like Semi truly bonded with them? Like she spent more than three days with them? Like one of them didn’t stab her multiple times and tackle her to the dirty floor of the bedroom. 

And.. how can Hyunju act like she truly knows the people she surrounds herself with? Does she truly believe that in that short time, they had become real friends? A real family? Does she truly look at these people, Junhee, Daeho, Gihun, Yongsik, and see friends? People she believes in? How? How can that be? 

And it feels like a mockery. Hopefully someone you know will come to the next one, she says. As if Semi is waiting patiently to see that purple-haired fool saunter in here like he owns the place. Tailed by his loyal dog, hair slicked back and rings gleaming, sly cat-like face wearing a possessive expression. Minsu a few feet behind, keeping his distance, careful, unsure, nervous. Semi feels her eyes sting, for some reason. 

“It’s fine,” Semi says, wanting Hyunju to drop it. She takes the hint immediately and moves on.

“It'll just be an hour long. The officers have an experienced post-trauma specialist coming to conduct the meeting. She should be familiar with the mix of feelings we’re all having right now,” Hyunju explains. “She should be here any minute.” 

“Were you hurt? Is that why you weren’t at the last one?” Daeho asks, carefully. As if he knows already that he is overstepping. Semi raises a brow at him. She is virtually covered in bandages visible beneath her clothes. And he asks: Were you hurt. It feels sort of fake, to Semi. But these overly kind types that really just want the gossip always tend to be. Semi answers, despite the insincerity she perceives. 

“Yes, I was just discharged today. I don’t remember anything after the bloodbath in the bedroom,” Semi explains with a short huff. 

“Oh man..” Daeho says. 

“You missed two other games..” Junhee tells her softly. Semi bites her lip. Two other games before everybody else was rescued. “There was a maze where we had to chase each other..”

Daeho speaks up again. “And a giant game of jump rope on a tiny narrow bridge,” He says. Then adds: “Over a really deep pit. Nobody ended up playing it though. They started raiding the place just as it began.” 

“Nobody even tried it? Wait, what was the maze game?” Semi asks, slowly. Although she doesn’t know much it will help her to know anything about the games she missed. She doesn’t know if it's productive to dwell on what other people might be dealing with. It’s even likely that she got off easier having been injured so severely so early. 

”Keys and knives. Some people were made to run and hide and try to find a way out with keys,” Gihun chimes in, notably collected. He speaks so calmly, it’s almost eerie. “The other people were given the task of killing one person to proceed to the next game. They were given knives.”

That’s. Horrifying..

”The hiders were just defenseless?” Semi asks, unable to stop herself. What does she care? Gihun nods. 

“That’s why so many of us have bad stab wounds. Guy over there got me in the back,” Hyunju says, pointing across the room to a lonely figure. Yongsik seems to jolt a little at the mention of a stab in the back. Maybe another victim of a similar attack. 

The chair is sort of pulled back, a foot out of the circle maybe. And his hair hands down inward as he stares down at his knees. He has a vice grip on both of the armrests, white knuckles, red fingertips. At first, Semi has no idea who it could be. Then she squints for a moment, really considers the haircut, leans down to see the full lips and the furrowed brows. It’s crypto guy. 

Crypto guy stabbed Hyunju? In the back? And Hyunju survived but Crypto made it through? What was it Thanos and Namgyu were calling him again? MG? 

“From what I’ve heard, he hurt a lot of people,” Daeho says. “He killed more than one person. For no reason. You only had to eliminate one to get through.”

”What the fuck..” Semi can’t help but murmur. MG doesn’t look up from his knees, and his tight hold on the armrests doesn’t let up either. The room isn’t big enough or loud enough for him to not hear them. He must. But he shows no sign of it. 

“He was running around with…” Junhee at first looks bitter, an almost disturbingly uncharacteristic rage present in her expression. She stares down MG across the room like he goes quiet halfway through this sentence. She looks sort of ambiguously at Semi, as though the next thing she says will bother her. “Uhm. The guy uh.. the rapper’s friend.” 

Now that didn’t make sense. Namgyu had taken to partnering up with crypto guy? The guy who he and Thanos had been bloodlusting after? From what Semi had seen and heard, Namgyu and Thanos had been equally fucked over by him. And they had been equally furious about it. They hadn’t let MG have a moment of peace, taking every free second to get in his face and bug him about their lost money. MG was a douche, sure, but their behaviour had been unnecessary and counterproductive. There was no sense asking for money back from a guy who obviously had none. 

Now, he stares at his lap, shoulders tense. Semi considers him for a moment more, before turning to face Junhee. 

“They were being stupid,” Semi tells her. “I don’t care what Namgyu did after.”

”That’s his name? He was on the.. the officers mentioned him when I asked about the..” Hyunju trails off, and Semi raises a brow. What is she talking about? “Nevermind.”

“You don’t think it's crazy that they teamed up? Somebody told me that Myunggi is the one who killed Thanos..” Daeho says, more low than anything else he has voiced. His eyes jump to the side, over at MG or ‘Myunggi’ nervously. “Why would.. uh.. You said his name was Namgyu? Why would Namgyu team up with his friend’s killer?” 

Semi shrugs. 

“I don’t think he cared much about anything. I don’t know if you could even really call Thanos his friend. He was probably just chasing him around for the pills,” Semi says.

”You think so?” Junhee asks, softly. Her eyes are big and glimmery. Her bangs are clean, they curve over her forehead in such a delicate way, like a perfectly readied princess before the ball. None of the sweat and grime that had clung to her in the games. Semi can’t help but admire her for a second. “They seemed..  close. I saw them at night.”

Semi has to try not to roll her eyes at the memory. Namgyu resting his head on Thanos’ chest like a true lover. Teenagers in a thin-walled bedroom, quietly breathing in sync. No doubt only a result of the circumstances. Semi is almost certain Thanos wouldn't have given Namgyu the time of day outside of the games. He only seemed to let him stick around because he was a personal hype man. Well. Gyeongsu may have been closer to that position than Namgyu. But Namgyu was essentially a groupie. Semi tries to imagine them out in the world together, and tries to picture Namgyu at Thanos’ side in public. 

She’s not sure she can picture anything at Thanos’ side other than a bunch of pretty girls. 

Semi is reminded of Namgyu tucking his hair behind his ear, running his hands up and down Thanos’ sides all touchy-feely. Was there really much of a difference?

”I.. I don't know,” Semi admits with a short huff. She tries to mask her frustration, but it proves difficult. She doesn’t want these people to think she is anything more than indifferent about Thanos.. Namgyu.. Minsu. She wants to stop talking about them already. Semi knows what it must mean. That they’re not here. The sooner she accepts that, the sooner she can forget it all. And Semi doesn’t need these people realizing Namgyu was the one that took her out. She doesn’t need the concern or the pity or the mockery. Whatever they might think is sensible to offer, she does not want.  “So you were all rescued and.. some of you were hospitalized?” 

“Most of us. The lucky few who weren’t were questioned and screened for their care plans,” Hyunju explains. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

So they do. The therapist comes and leads a lengthy discussion about recovery and acceptance. It seems a little fresh to Semi to be talking about just giving in and acknowledging that this is how things are now. Acceptance, accepting the life-changing experience you've just had, the new reality you live in— that seems like something you get to a little further from the incident. Things are still so raw. But everybody else is nodding along, some contributing, others just staring forward with watery eyes and shaking ankles. 

By the time the proper meeting portion of the day has finished, Semi has decided that she still has a lot to learn about what happened there. She decides that before she can move forward, she needs the full picture of what took place. Since Hyunju seems reluctant to share all that more, Semi squares her stare at Myunggi. He remains a smaller figure than she had seen him before, curled over his chair. 

The therapist sticks around to chat with some people individually, offering some small bits of advice to those who ask. As a result, the room transforms into another borderline classroom-esque space. Many conversations happening at once as people share their feelings and thoughts. Through it all, Semi bids farewell to the small group she had been introduced to, and she makes her way over to Myunggi.

”What happened to them,” Semi asks. And it comes out as more of a command, as she stands in front of him. His form small on the chair, her shadow pours down on him. He doesn’t glance up at first. “What happened to them? Why aren’t they here?”

Finally, after what looks like more consideration, Myunggi looks up at her. And it looks, to Semi, as though he is trying very hard to appear undisturbed. Aren’t they all. 

“What are you talking about,” He says, unkindly. Semi matches his attitude, mean-mugging down at him like she is disgusted. Like he is a worm squirming on the sidewalk. 

“Thanos, Namgyu, Minsu,” Semi says, quickly. Myunggi stares up at her for a little longer, letting her sit in the shame of asking what happened to her attacker. Her betrayer. And the loser leading them around. Semi opens her mouth again. “What happened to them.”

Semi has half a mind to believe Namgyu may have just overdosed a minute or two after she lost consciousness. She can’t imagine the state he was in was natural. He had to have taken at least one, maybe even two of those pills. He was monstrous the last time she saw him. And he intended it to be the last time she saw anything. Knowing that he made it to the maze game only to team up with the guy who drove him off the wall in the first place? It’s hard to understand. And Minsu. Semi had been shocked that he made it as far as he did. She told him as much. Keys and knives sounded more than intense. And less than suitable for a man like Minsu. Semi can’t imagine him in the place of the knife team, nor can she imagine him fairing well running and hiding. Semi feels her heart sink a little, picturing his cold body in the long halls of this maze they described. Bloody trail behind him, maybe some on the wall next to him. 

Thanos. Should be dead. Everything points to him being dead. But the same could have been said about Semi. Who knows? Maybe the rescue team had infiltrated the games before Gyeongsu had been shot too? 

“Why do you care about those idiots?” Myunggi says. “And how should I know where they ended up.” 

“You mean they didn’t die in the games?” Semi asks. And Myunggi chokes, realizing that he has slipped up. Realizes that she hadn’t known if they had even survived. He doesn’t confirm or deny this. Only glares up at her. “All three of them?” 

Myunggi sighs and rubs his temples. 

“They’re being treated,” Myunggi says, breathily. His nostrils flare like he’s angry to even be reminded of them. Semi can’t say she blames him, despite the strange knowledge that she doesn’t feel the same about it. She had expected to feel enraged after all that had happened. But it just isn’t there. 

He still hasn’t said if Thanos indeed survived, but Semi has a feeling that if Myunggi had successfully killed him his behaviour would be slightly different right now. As much as she tries to push it down, a strange warm feeling manifests inside of her. 

“Treated? They’re all in the hospital? All three?” Semi pushes. Myunggi seems annoyed and confused as to why she is even inquiring about them, but Semi can’t think of a reason to tell him. Or really what she would tell him. What’s the answer? Why does she care? Trauma-bonding? 

“They’re all in the psych center. Attached to the university hospital near here,” He tells her. “They put them there because of the drugs.” 

“Why is Minsu in there?” Semi asks. 

“I told you what you wanted to know, leave me alone,” Myunggi tells her, looking back down. Officially done with the conversation. Semi doesn’t move. 

“Why do you even know where they went? What’s your deal?” 

“Why’d you think I would know?” Myunggi counters. 

They’re both adjacent figures in their stories. Wronged by the three patients in some way or another, the both of them. Semi could just sense that this connection pulled at Myunggi’s mind as well. Enough for him to know where they ended up. 

Semi wonders what the extent of his and Namgyu’s team up was. What did it entail aside from the killing and maiming? What did they have to do with each other beneath the surface? Was Namgyu only looking for somebody else to cling to while the drugs took him deeper? Myunggi only going along with it because Namgyu seemed unwilling to harm him after Thanos died? Unwilling or.. maybe uninterested. Maybe he had only calmed down on Myunggi because it seemed suddenly so much less important. Semi thinks, with Thanos gone, that partnership gone, maybe nothing seemed real enough to care about for Namgyu. He just let himself get lost instead of bothering with grudges. 

“You’re the only other person here who spent any time speaking to them,” Semi tells him, as if it’s obvious. 

“Why do you care anyway,” Myunggi says flatly, judgy. “You don’t know them.” 

“You know where they went. You seeked out that information. Don’t pretend you weren’t interested too,” Semi says.

Interest. Just plain curiosity. Sure. That’s what it can be for now, while Semi figures out just how she feels. With that she turns and leaves back to her apartment. She can feel Myunggi’s eyes on her back as she goes. Tomorrow, she decides, she will pay a visit to the psych center. 

Chapter Text

Thanos hadn’t been expecting it. When they usher Namgyu away, Namgyu glances over his shoulder all sly-like, almost as if at any moment he could break out of their hold and run right back to him. He doesn't, of course, but the expression on his face implies that he can. That he wants to. Thanos watches as his nurse leads him out of the meeting room and out of sight. But Thanos knows they’re headed down the same hallways Thanos will surely be taken to. Their rooms are nestled in the same corner of the ward. 

Thanos waits somewhat patiently for his nurse to finally bring him out too, but instead, curiously, he just stands at the door as if he is waiting on something else. Thanos sits still in the meeting room, the chair Namgyu had taken up not five minutes ago sits frustratingly empty. Thanos’ nurse checks his watch. Thanos feels his face twist up in confusion. Is there something else on his schedule today that he is not aware of? 

Thanos had actually been very ready to turn into his room for the day and spend the rest of it lounging about waiting for dusk to come. He is really looking forward to seeing Namgyu again tonight. It looks like there will be something else aside from dinner in between now and then. Thanos watches with a fake lack of anticipation as the nurse finally gestures for him to follow. Thanos stands up and makes his way to the door, dragging his feet a little bit, willing his hands to stop patting a beat into his sides. His nurse looks so serious.  

The nurse doesn’t tell him where they’re going. He just walks down the hallway, the opposite direction of Thanos’ room. And Thanos is honestly too tired of his current method of communication to bother trying to get his attention and ask him about it. He supposes he’ll just see what’s ahead of him when he gets there. 

The idea that it may be some sort of punishment.. that they may have discovered the empty hook in the custodian’s closet. That they put two and two together.. that they know Thanos stole them and used them. A wave of unfamiliar nerves washes over him. Would they put him in isolation or something? Keep him locked down even worse than Namgyu? Would they be able to see each other again at all? Or would Thanos have to wait until they are both discharged? 

The thoughts pile up, and before Thanos knows he is sweating like a winter dog that's been adopted in the south. He knows he must look pale, gleamy white skin reflecting the cold lights of this other room they enter. A whiter room. Much whiter than any of the pink-hued hallways. Thanos knows he must look sickly, suddenly, because he feels it. He feels a knot form in his abdomen. One that quickly transforms into an ache, a stitch or a cramp from running. He feels like he should keel over and offer up the keys now so as to avoid any potential consequences that may come with feigning ignorance. 

Thanos’ nurse gestures for him to sit in one of two chairs in the room. The nurse waits until he does so, and then sits down in the one next to him. It is a check-up room, Thanos realizes. He gazes with unsure eyes at the bench prepped for a patient, thin paper covering the cushioned surface. The doctor’s desk is clean and the sink is not dripping. There isn’t a thing out of place or a sound in the room. Thanos can almost hear his heart pounding. It’s an odd place for an intervention. He suspects the officers will come in any moment and begin their outraged speech about respecting the rules and..

Why the hell would they do this here? Thanos thinks, hard. Hard enough that his head actually starts to hurt a little. He looks over at his nurse, and sees that the expression he had interpreted as ‘serious’ before, was now looking quite bored. Has Thanos misunderstood this situation?

Instead of officers or the custodian or even other nurses, it is a doctor that comes into the room. Thanos can tell because he wears a long coat. 

”Hello there Subong,” The doctor greets. He holds a few papers in his hands, and he wears gloves. Thanos can’t imagine he is here just to redress the bandages. The nurses do that just fine. There would be no reason to call in a doctor. ”Today I’m just going to take a look at your healing progress.” 

Thanos nods slowly as the doctor makes his way across the room to the desk kitchen counter looking thing. He sets his papers down on the counter and turns to face Thanos. He clasps his gloved hands together and smiles. 

“I’ve been informed that it was a miraculous save. We’re very happy to have you here and doing well, Subong,” The doctor says. And he spouts that out as if he knows Thanos, as if he has seen Thanos even once. It’s obviously not one of the doctors who treated him when he first woke up, and it's not somebody he has seen around the ward before. It just feels so fake. Do these people know they don’t have to pretend to care about him as a person? They can just do their job and get it over with? Thanos would honestly skip the friendly chat. He has better things to do. Better things to think about in the solitude of his room. ..If Minsu isn’t breathing too loudly on the other side of the dividers, that is. ”I’m sorry we haven’t met properly yet. But I hear that your wounds are doing well so far.”

The doctor steps back and points to the paper-covered bench. Thanos begrudgingly gets up and flops himself down onto it. He lays like they’re about to operate on him. 

”Oh,” The doctor says. “You can sit up, please.” 

Thanos stifles a laugh and whips himself upright. The doctor approaches with cold looking rubbery fingers and moves to peel his bandages off. Thanos hikes up his chin a little so the doctor has easier access to his neck. 

“We have been in contact with the doctor who rescued you,” The doctor says, as he does some poking and prodding that Thanos tries to ignore. Thanos is shocked to hear that. Whoever rescued him had to be undercover in the games, right? That’s the implication, if multiple games happened after he went out. The rescuers probably hid his almost-dead body in the walls or something and kept him just barely surviving until they tore the place apart from the inside. Thanos would actually love to speak to whoever it was that did all that to save him. Not him specifically, obviously. But like. To save.. all the people that they did.. save. 

Thanos jolts with the unwelcome picture of Gyeongsu in his head, smiling and laughing at some poorly executed freestyle Thanos had done on the stairway to the third game. The doctor backs up slightly, his hand pulling away from Thanos’ neck. The bandages are gone, the wounds are open and cold in the still air of the room. Thanos feels vulnerable. 

“I’m sorry, was there some pain there where I pressed?” The doctor asks. “It really is a fantastic amount of healing your body has been able to do so far. I’m impressed.”

He says it like Thanos has in any way contributed to his body’s speedy recovery. 

“I’ll bet refraining from speaking or eating hard things has helped you enormously. You’re a trooper Mr. Choi,” The doctor tells him. And Thanos is at first irked that he is speaking to him like one would a nervous child, but then he notes what the doctor actually said. He supposes he HAD contributed to his speedy recovery. “Because you have been so careful with your neck, both on the outside and the inside, we’re looking at only a little more time of no talking. You’ve done extraordinarily well in avoiding strain. Your stitches are in perfect condition. If you keep up the caution, I have no reason to believe you won’t be able to speak comfortably by the end of this week.”

Oh my god. 

Thanos almost fucks up and verbalized his thoughts, but he stops himself just as he opens his mouth. ‘Seriously?’ He lipsyncs. The doctor nods and backs up another step or two away from him. Thanos subconsciously starts to swing his legs back and forth on the bench. That’s the best news ever. 

“I suggest that you continue to hold yourself to strict soft dieting and no whispers, at least until our next check up,” The doctor gestures for the nurse to redress the wounds. “You should know that whispers can cause just as much and sometimes more irritation as talking, so please be careful. I admire your diligence thus far, and I’m glad to see you doing so well.”

“As I mentioned before, the doctor who rescued you is curious to see your progress. And he may have some insight about healing, since he was the one who saw your injuries when they were fresh. He will be visiting tomorrow,” The doctor says. “Do you have any questions?” 

Thanos thinks, then shrugs. Nothing so immediately important that he needs to make this any longer than necessary. He’s about ready to go crawl into bed and nap for a few hours. The doctor nods and bids Thanos and his nurse farewell. He grabs his papers off of the counter and exits the room swiftly. His coat swishes behind him. Thanos’ nurse works closely at his neck finishing up with the new bandages. 

“Can I ask,” Thanos’ nurse says suddenly, as Thanos moves to hop off the bench. Thanos raises a brow. “Can I ask what the deal is with you and the patient in the private room?” 

Thanos stares at his nurse for a long moment, wondering what exactly he should share. What can he tell him? Would the nurse be more or less likely to allow them to be around each other if Thanos told him they were close? Is it considered beneficial to have a friend in this place? Or would his nurse think it counterproductive for Thanos and Namgyu to spend any time together? 

Thanos is of the belief that no matter what impact, negative or positive, Namgyu has on his healing or his adjustment or whatever— Thanos wouldn’t be willing to drop their companionship. This place already feels a million times easier to handle with Namgyu laughing all catty at his side. And besides, if the hospital wants to keep them apart, Thanos is now convinced that they’ll find each other again on the outside. They already frequented the same places before. 

Thanos comes to find he doesn't care what the hospital thinks. He pulls his notepad out and plucks the cap off of the marker. He holds it inbetween his teeth and begins to write. His nurse watches.

‘we’re friends’ he writes. 

“Uh huh, I figured that bit out. But how? You met in here?” The nurse asks. Thanos gives him a look.

’Are u fr? We knew each other before’ Thanos scribbles. The nurse lets out an angry huff of air before nodding.

”Yes before being admitted here or before your kidnapping?” The nurse asks, like he has any business knowing that. Thanos is actually starting to feel kind of creeped out. What’s the relevance there? Why does the nurse care?

’Before the games’ Thanos writes. He watches the nurse’s face change to a neutral expression.

”Okay. Can I ask why there is bad blood between him and Minsu? I’m failing to understand why you two are just fine but he and Minsu can’t get along,” The nurse says. 

Oh. Thanos understands. The nurse isn’t trying to pry into Namgyu and Thanos. He’s looking at the three of them like a trio, like they’re all important to one another. Like Minsu is in any way on the same level. Thanos hadn’t even thought of Minsu. The whole staff of this place must be always thinking of them in relation to one another. Whatever Thanos does must impact their views on Minsu, whatever Minsu pulls is going to be attributed back to Namgyu, then Thanos, and so on. They think they’re all tied together because they were all rescued from the same place. 

Thanos doesn’t want to kick Minsu out of his world or anything, he’d be down to chill with the guy on the outside once in a while. But he’s not trying to make this whole thing some sort of group healing. He’s not about sharing with the class or whatever. Minsu doesn’t need to be handcuffed to Namgyu and Thanos just because they’re all dealing with the same shit. Minsu isn’t really ready to be handcuffed to Namgyu and Thanos, he doesn’t think. 

‘I don't kno’ Thanos writes. The nurse’s face scrunches up. ‘Namsu just gets a little pissy. He wasn’t all over that teamwork stuff’ 

“What are you talking about?” The nurse asks. 

‘When we had to team up in the games, I accepted Minsu into our group’ Thanos explains, not bothering to write very quickly. If he wastes this nurse’s time it makes no difference to him. ‘Namsu didn’t rlly approve’ 

“So what, he’s a jealous personality? That’s why he tried to strangle and kill him?” The nurse looks unimpressed. Like he doesn’t believe Thanos for a second. What the fuck is his issue? That’s literally the truth. “And you know you’re spelling his name wrong, right?”

‘Well Namsu said Minsu also tried to kill him so’ Thanos writes. He’s not going to elaborate on that, nor is he going to respond to the accusation about his nicknaming. Thanos isn’t stupid. All of these workers think he dropped out in kindergarten or something. 

“Hang on, what?” The nurse asks. Thanos nods, and writes again.

’I forgive him tho. I don’t think he would try that again. And Namgyu got him back, so its tied pretty much’ 

“Got him back.. got him back with the strangling?” The nurse asks. Thanos nods. 

‘Namgyu is still mad abt it i think’ Thanos writes, honestly. ‘I understand how he feels. If i got my hands on MG coin he would never see the sun again’

”I don’t think you should tell me things like that if you plan on getting out of here, first of all,” The nurse responds, after reading it. Thanos simply shrugs again. “And second, I don’t know who MG Coin is. You’re going to have to give me more context if you want to let me in.” 

‘I’m not trying to let u in’ Thanos writes, and he can’t help but laugh as he writes it. ‘Y do u know nothing about what happened to us?’ 

“I think it has been explained to you before that we were given very little to work with, Subong,” The nurse says. “Back on topic, why are you not frustrated with Minsu? It seems like you’re very close with Namgyu. You’re not angry with Minsu as well for.. you said he tried to kill him?” 

‘I wasn’t there.’ Thanos establishes, then he purses his lips. ‘but my boy Namsu can take care of himself. He doesn’t need me to bark at the little guy for him.’

”Elegantly worded, Subong,” The nurse sighs. “Do you think there is hope for your two friends to reconcile? I’m wondering if we need to continue keeping them apart.”

Thanos scowls. 

‘I’m not the fcking psych hospital worker bro’ Thanos writes. ‘Why u asking me? Make ur own observations’ 

“..Fair point. I just thought I would ask for your opinion since you seem to be the bridge between them,” The nurse says. 

‘I don’t think my boys gonna attack him again if that's what ur asking’ Thanos tells him, eager for this conversation to be over. 

The nurse nods and leads him back out of the checkup room and towards Minsu and Thanos’ hallway. 

Thanos can practically feel the moment the lightbulb flicks on above his head, warmth cascading down over his hair. He grabs his nurse by the shoulder, ignoring the small jump he does in surprise. They stop in the hallway as Thanos pulls out his notepad again.

’Can Minsu and Namgyu switch rooms?’ Thanos asks, and he writes it slowly and carefully, so that the words cannot be misread. He also hopes it looks real nice, maybe contributing to a higher likelihood of his request being accepted. He looks at the nurse with his best puppy dog eyes, and he watches as the nurse takes in this question and bites his lip with unease. 

“..I’m not sure about that Subong,” The nurse says. And Thanos puts on a hard face, despite feeling himself deflate. “We will have to evaluate. I thought you were alright with rooming with Minsu?” 

‘I’d rather room with Namgyu.. and Minsu would probably rather be alone???’ Thanos writes. He underlines the last word. The nurse chews on his lip even harder as he reads this.

”I’ll talk to the other staff members and think it over, okay Subong? For tonight it’ll be the same,” The nurse says. Thanos nods, hoping the positive attitude works in his favour as well. 

They start walking again, the hallways feeling smaller, narrower, walls closer than before. Thanos thinks it must be the excitement for tonight bubbling in him. 

“You and Namgyu are such good friends that you’d both be comfortable sharing a room?” The nurse asks, bringing up the subject again even though he had shut it down. Thanos can’t respond, because they don’t stop walking. The nurse leads the way, not bothering to look back for any reply. “We’ll have to see if Namgyu would be okay with it too. He might feel like it's a downgrade to be shoved into a room with someone else.”

Thanos wants to tell him he knows that's definitely not true, images of Namgyu sleeping soundly against him in that humongous room where he could have picked any empty bed. They flash inside his mind, Namgyu’s cheek squished against Thanos’ number patch. One leg hitched up over Thanos, one arm around him. Thanos thinks Namgyu couldn’t be happier about rooming together. He’s like the touchiest guy in the history of earth. Would they get in trouble for pulling the dividers down? Gentle breaths pushing a few stray strands of hair from Namgyu’s bangs, they twirl through the air just in front of him, settling eventually in little streams across Thanos’ jumpsuit and Namgyu’s pearly skin. Thanos thinks of what he might look like in the warm morning light of Thanos’ current bedroom. Pink and soft, and maybe a little uncomfortably warm. Their legs tangled together, arms around each other, face nestled into one neck or the other. 

He can’t say any of this to the nurse, not only because it probably wouldn’t do him any good, but also because the nurse doesn’t seem to be looking for any answer from him anyway. He remains facing away from Thanos as they reach the door to his and Minsu’s room. 

“Thanks for cooperating okay with the no head-up doctor’s appointment. Looks like you’re doing well,” The nurse says, as he gestures for Thanos to enter the room. “You know what time dinner is. Feel free to spend time in the rec room or the gardens.”

Finally free for the rest of the day, and locked up with the knowledge that Namgyu is to stay in his room, Thanos decides to copy the trend. He figures if he sleeps right now, he can wake up for dinner, maybe even sleep again for a couple hours, and then go meet Namgyu tonight with the energy of a new day. 

It all goes by in the blink of an eye. He barely remembers his nurse coming to get him for dinner, trudging over to the caf and slurping down some noodles. He went to bed again right when he got back to his room, and the hours had left him in what felt like seconds. When Thanos wakes again, he can hear Minsu softly snoring from the other side of the curtains. The room is pitch black, and there is only a tiny bit of light coming in from under his door. For a moment, Thanos wonders if he overslept, but he can see outside that it still looks like late evening early nighttime. Thanos hears some telltale squeaky sounds of nurse sneakers against the waxed floors. They are heading back towards the welcome desk, as though they have already finished checking Thanos’ end of the ward. Perfect timing.

He hurries out of bed, sets up his pillow-body under the covers, shoves the extra pjs in there again for good measure, and he snatches up his notepad and marker from the bedside table. The keyring sits snug in between his hip bone and the waistband of his pyjama pants. He takes it out very slowly and unlocks his own door just as he had the night before. 

This time, he is not slowed by the process of checking every room. He knows exactly where Namgyu is. 

The room at the end of the hall looks like an oasis in the desert, he gets tired of tiptoeing and takes his last few strides a little more loudly than he should have. The water cooler bubbles almost mockingly beside him, like it’s challenging him to make more noise. He nearly hisses at himself for the carelessness, but carefully raises the keys to Namgyu’s door. 

He unlocks it with much less trouble than last night, and he is delighted to see Namgyu already standing. He has just tucked his pillows into bed the same way Thanos had. Thanos hadn’t even told him to do that. He supposes the implication of ‘I’ll come get u’ is that they will leave the room and go somewhere else. They have twin brains when it comes to this kind of shit. Thanos is certain Namgyu was the kind of teenager to arrange his childhood bedroom in the same way to sneak out. Thanos knows he was. 

Namgyu turns to the door as it opens, the rectangle of light that comes over him lights up his eyes. Namgyu’s lips spread into a wide smile, and Thanos thinks back to their nights in the games again. Just blindly looking forward to whatever was next. 

“Hi,” Namgyu whispers, and he stretches upright, raising his arms above his head and letting out a sort of squeak noise as he does so. Then he cracks his knuckles and makes his way over to the door to join Thanos. “Where are we going?” 

Thanos doesn’t respond, because it’s inconvenient right now. But he places. A hand on Namgyu’s shoulder and pats it twice as if to say ‘let’s go’. Namgyu smiles even wider, if that's possible. Thanos turns to head back out of the room, but not before bringing his hand up just a little bit more to move some hair out of Namgyu’s face. He can hear Namgyu skip out of the room behind him, holding the knob and letting the door latch closed as lightly and quietly as possible. Thanos smiles and gestures for Namgyu to follow. 

Namgyu hurries over to him and walks next to him at first.

Thanos glances at the space between them, laughs a little bit, then throws an arm around Namgyu’s shoulders to tug him into his side as they make their way through the dead silent hospital. It feels right, to have him like this, glued to him. 

“Here?” Namgyu points to the door with the staircase sign, Thanos nods and lifts the keyring up. Namgyu takes it from him and leans over the doorknob to test out the different cuts. Unfortunately, there doesn’t appear to be one labelled ‘stairwell’ or ‘roof’ or any similar word. They are only taped with little squares of colour. The custodian must remember which is which, but unfortunately Namgyu will hae to try every key.

Its a few moments of jingling noises and shuffling, Namgyu trying to hold the keys together in his hand so that they don’t ring against each other. Thanos keeps watch, standing like a bodyguard or a bouncer, arms crossed over his chest, facing down the hallway where any nurse may suddenly appear. Finally Namgyu finds the key, the large part of it wrapped in blue electrical tape. The door unlocks and swings open, its heavy, Namgyu ducks forward to catch it before it slams against the wall of the stairwell. As soon as he grabs the door, he falls forward with it. Thanos dives after him and wraps his arms around Namgyu’s middle as the door pulls them both. It stops with their weight just before the knob smashes into the wall. 

The both of them stand there frozen for a moment, the door an inch from he wall, Thanos’ arms tight around Namgyu’s waist. Namgyu starts to laugh, stumbling backwards into Thanos as he pulls hard on the door to bring it away from the wall. Thanos has to stop himself from laughing too. He brings a hand up to Namgyu’s mouth and covers it, a silent reminder to be silent. 

Once they have a good hold on the heavy door, Namgyu and Thanos slip through the much smaller opening and push it closed behind them. It takes both of their strength to shut it. Thanos wonders idly as they make their way up the steps, if the building is on a slant or something. Namgyu is still struggling to keep laughter inside as he climbs slowly ahead of Thanos. One hand grips the railing, and Thanos is faced with the memory of the both of them climbing those eerie pink steps. Everything had been hazy before mingle, the both of them adequately out of it. Everything had been blurring together, their surroundings a vibrant mixture of nonsense. The only thing that hadn’t been unclear was Namgyu. Thanos remembers watching him climb just like this, leaning over the strange pink cemented walls, pulling himself along them with both hands to keep himself upright. Thanos had wanted to hold him by the waist then, like a moment ago, maybe a little looser. He had wanted to feel Namgyu’s shuddery excited breathing slow with his physical support. 

Now, the feeling only grows. Thanos wants to dip down and pick Namgyu up, one arm under his knees and one supporting his back, he wants to bring him close to his chest and carry him up the steps. He doesn’t even know why. It just sounds nice. Thanos wonders if Namgyu wants to turn around and do the same to him. If he wants to offer a hand and pull Thanos up. Would it look silly for him to throw Thanos over his shoulder like a ragdoll? There's something about the idea of carrying each other, supporting each other, that just feels like it should work. Thanos thinks about when they get out of here. How they’ll do just that. Carry each other through the coming torture of being broke and desperate again.  

Namgyu glances over his shoulder with that catlike grin again, his eyes are sort of wild and his skin tightens in a pretty way. Smooth and soft looking. 

There is very little light in the stairwell. Every couple of platforms there is a small red flood light that flashes every couple seconds. It bathes the whole place in blood red, dressing them up like The nights in the games. The giant x on the floor that would cradle the entire opposite half of the room, the side they didn’t sleep on. And it seems to go on forever without another exit. Whatever floors they are passing do not have connections to the psych ward, it seems. And Thanos feels a strange sense of euphoria as his legs burn and his heart beats in his ears. He watches Namgyu skip a couple steps and breathe hard, his hair bouncing in that cute cut he keeps it in. It swishes behind him and glows purplish in the red light. Silky and sparkly. 

They finally reach a door, but the stairs continue upwards. The door is unlabelled. 

“The building didn’t seem this tall from the courtyard,” Namgyu whispers to him, turning around quickly, causing his hair to swoop around and catch across his face. It falls into place a millisecond later. Thanos smiles. He points up, too lazy at the moment to pull out his notepad. Namgyu seems to ponder on that option.

”Think we’ll find the roof?” Namgyu asks, and Thanos notices now that his chest is heaving, but he looks so happy. His voice is kind of breathless, a couple spaces in the words empty, soundless. Thanos nods, still smiling. It feels like they’re back in the games, the best part of the games, running around together with no rules or expectations, just inebriated joy. 

Namgyu nods and takes a deep breath before starting at the next flight. Thanos trails him closer this time, places his slipper’d foot in the same places Namgyu’s lift from. Thanos is practically in the kick zone if Namgyu jolts too much. But they’re both breathing hard and the familiar fun of blindly jumping through the unknown, this time not at gunpoint— it takes over in a way that feels too similar to substances. The stakes are much lower now, the freedom is palpable. 

They come to a hatch. It is closed, but not locked. They both stand and tilt their heads straight up to gaze at it. It has to be the roof. 

Namgyu looks sideways at him, curiously. And Thanos nods. 

The next thing he knows, he has Namgyu sitting on his shoulders, reaching up at the hatch to push it open. The bar that he has to tug on to unlatch it is right at his fingertips. Thanos focuses on trying to keep himself steady. He quickly finds that it is impossible to focus on anything aside from the warmth of Namgyu on either side of his head, tucked behind him. His crotch is pressed against the back of Thanos’ neck, his thighs hugging Thanos’ ears. And Thanos feels his face grow hotter with every moment he listens to the strained noises Namgyu makes while he reaches for the hatch. 

He feels dizzy, and the darkness between the flashes of red seem to not only cause Namgyu to lose track of what he’s reaching for— but also cause Thanos to lose his balance. He grips Namgyu’s calves, hands wrapped across both of his shins, holding tightly so that his friend doesn’t fall. They must look completely insane. Thanos grins to himself, trying very hard not to laugh and potentially throw Namgyu off of his shoulders with the shaking. 

The heat consuming his shoulders, neck and head only seems to worsen when Namgyu finally gets it. The telltale sounds of metal clinking together, and Namgyu huffs and groans with exertion as he stretches all the way and flips the hatch up. The cold nighttime air immediately pours in from outside. Thanos feels the warmth around him become only more highlighted by the sudden coolness of the rest of his body. The wind pushes through their thin pyjamas and crawls up his torso and across his ankles in twirling freezing gusts.  

A stray leaf from a tree falls into Namgyu’s face, causing him to gasp and spit when it tries to go into his mouth. In a silly panic, he attempts to swipe at the leaf, not really sure what it is in the (now admittedly less dark) darkness of the stairwell. Thanos tumbles backwards with the sudden movement and weight imbalance, and they both fall. 

“Shit!” Namgyu whisper yells as they both hit the concrete floor. 

It hurts bad for only a moment, and it's over as soon as Thanos remembers he is not the only person who had fallen. Thanos is picking himself up and turning around to look at Namgyu. On his hands and knees, he adjusts himself and checks on his friend. It takes only a second of examination to see that he’s perfectly fine. Like a crazy person, Namgyu is laying on his back laughing. His hands on his stomach, his legs splayed out on either side of where Thanos had landed. It’s fucking hysterical. And somehow, as the wind howls and whines through the now open roof hatch, Namgyu still looks so perfect. Thanos’ eyes have adjusted to the new lighting, and the mixture of colours from the outside sky and the still flashing floodlight pool together on Namgyu’s face. The same way the X and O lights of the games bedroom had done. 

Thanos crawls closer, pulls himself further in between Namgyu’s legs and reaches down to cup his face. Namgyu’s eyes flutter open slowly, as if the laughter is so overwhelming he can’t even be bothered to look at anything. And he blinks a few times and squints as the moonlight shines in from above them, behind Thanos’ head. 

“L- lets figure out how we’re going to get up there,” Namgyu says, pointing past Thanos to the open hatch. It remains open, perhaps automatically locked in place, but no ladder had dropped. Thanos shakes his head in disbelief, smiling. He wants to tell Namgyu he’s a tough cookie for tanking that fall. Thanos could have sworn he heard a crack when they landed. But Namgyu pulls himself up into a sitting position, and then, a little dizzily, to his feet.

”Come on,” Namgyu holds a hand out for Thanos to grab. Thanos notes, as he takes it and stands, that Namgyu’s other hand is busy rubbing the back of his skull. 

They stand together and look up at the open hatch. Thanos shivers a little bit as another gust of cool air from outside comes in. What could they possibly use to climb up there?

”We need some kind of stepstool,” Namgyu says. “A chair, maybe?” 

Thanos nods, because he’s really tired of pulling out the notepad and writing. 

“Maybe that door we passed?” Namgyu suggests, with a shrug. “Could lead to another ward.” 

Thanos decides he can’t avoid offering full verbal input now. So he begrudgingly takes out his notepad. Namgyu seems to notice the exhaustion, because he winces guiltily. Likely at the prospect of making it necessary.

”Sorry, we can just go. Less talking?” Namgyu offers. Thanos waves him off and writes something quick. 

‘Door might be alarmed?’ He scribbles. Namgyu reads it and scratches at his head thoughtfully. 

“We’re not really trying to escape.. it would be stupid to get caught for no reason,” Namgyu agrees. Aren’t they? Maybe they’re not attempting to actually leave this place unseen and hide for the rest of their days… hang on. Do you get pursued by the police for escaping an inpatient treatment? If you didn’t commit any crimes? That’s besides the point. They ARE seeking out some form of escape. Stargazing on the roof isn't a permanent fix, but it sure sounds like exactly what they need. An escape on a much smaller scale. Namgyu seems to be able to read his thoughts, because his next words seem to forget about the possibility of an alarm. “But.. I don't know.. Might as well try and see if the keys work? We might not even have the right one.” 

‘yeah lets try. I dont care if we’re caught anyway. We’re probably staying for longer than a week already’ Thanos says. And it's not a good mindset to have, because one bad choice leads to another, and then suddenly he’s here for a year. But.. a year of running up and down dark stairwells behind Namgyu.. it doesn’t sound bad at all. Namgyu takes Thanos by the wrist and starts to dash back down the steps towards the door they had flew by. 

They have no idea where it leads. For all they know it could be an unused section of the hospital. Or storage or something. And, now that Thanos thinks about it, those would actually be the best case scenario. If they could run into some dim corridor where there is no chance of being spotted, snatch up a chair or a box or something to stand on, they could get on the roof easily without being detected. If this door opens to some different care facility full of night-shift nurses, they might just be fucked. 

Thanos watches Namgyu bring the keys to the mysterious door lock, and the light shining down from the hatch a few flights up peeks through the railings down on them. The keys sparkle almost audibly as the red flood light flashes. As quietly as he can, Namgyu tries various keys. It seems like they’re going to be out of luck, as each one jiggles helplessly in the knob, unmoving. Some even getting stuck. Namgyu has to place his foot on the door and tug on the key with both hands like a cartoon character, and Thanos poses a cautious palm behind him in case it suddenly pops out and sends him flying backwards to the ground again. One fall on the cement floor is one too many. 

Eventually, there is only one key left on the ring that they haven’t tried. Namgyu shrugs and moves to try it. To both of their shock and awe, it turns easily, and the door unlocks with a satisfyingly quiet click. 

“What are the odds I try the correct one last?” Namgyu laughs. 

Thanos slips by him through the door and holds it for him, and once they are both through into the new hallway, they carefully close the door again. 

The new hallway is not a dark dusty storage area or an unused section of the hospital. Thanos immediately hears approaching footsteps from down the hallway and around a corner. He thinks fast, faster than he usually can, and pulls Namgyu by the sleeve. They quickly duck behind a wall that juts out to cover a teeny waiting room. 

“Wh-“ Namgyu tries, but Thanos cups his hand over his mouth faster than he can get the word out. The footsteps come closer and closer, and he holds Namgyu against the wall with him like it's a pink soldier that’s hunting them. For some reason, this idea takes over everything, and Thanos almost feels a real jolt of fear run through him. The new area of the hospital, the little play equipment this waiting room is decorated with, the tv hanging on the wall, it all disappears. Suddenly it is only he, Namgyu, and the footsteps. The gunman gets so close to them. Thanos can hear him breathe. He can hear the soldier- the hospital worker- breathe just as Namgyu takes the hint to quit his own respiration.

Both of them stand as still as possible as the unknown staff member stops and quietly stares at the door they had come from. Then, the worker steps forward towards it, jiggles the knob as though to make sure it is locked, which it most thankfully is. For once these automatic locks come in handy. Then, as if told to by Thanos and Namgyu’s guardian angel, the worker backs away instead of turning around and spotting them. He takes a few steps backwards, as if he is still suspicious of the door and can’t look away. Then finally, a moment after he has passed the wall they hide behind, he turns back around and his footsteps echo down the hallway into nothingness. 

Namgyu takes a deep breath through Thanos’ palm right when the worker seems to be far enough away. Thanos is also breathing, deeply through his nose like he has just hiked up Kilimanjaro. Thanos lets his hand fall, and where he is sort of expecting to see a shaken expression beneath it, he instead sees that wild smile. 

They stare at each other, giddy. Almost feeling like they have escaped a tragic ending once again. 

“This looks like a busy unit,” Namgyu observes. “If they heard that door open, they’d hear us swipe a chair.”

Thanos stares at him and purses his lips. Unsure how to respond. It’s true. If they heard them enter, they’d hear them enter another room to find what they’re looking for. They’d hear them leave again with a large object. They’d probably hear the moment they step out from behind this wall, really. But somehow, staring at Namgyu’s funny little excited face, Thanos feels like he’s willing to take those odds. 

So they creep out into the open hallway. It feels sort of like leaving that little room in mingle. Lines on the hospital floor make artsy geometric patterns. In Thanos’ eyes, the design reads like the blood splattered floors of the mingle arena, the carousel platform just waiting to be boarded again. None of the signage divulges what type of unit they’re in, but even if it did, Thanos thinks he might not be able to read them at the moment. He might just see them as those screens that dictated how many players were allowed in the rooms. 10, then 4, then 3, then 6, then 2. Namgyu in every single one of them with him. 

Namgyu points to a door they approach, and sure enough, there is a sign next to it that Thanos is too overwhelmed and dizzy to read. Maybe he had fallen harder than he thought earlier. Despite his uncertainty that he is sure is visible on his face, Namgyu nods and heads closer, reaching for the doorknob. 

They enter the room and are immediately greeted with sleeping patients. Just the same as what Thanos had seen while checking each room in the psychiatric ward. They seem to be sleeping hard, and there is not much to see in the room aside from them and their big beds with all the equipment and whatnot behind them. 

There are chairs. Two chairs, sitting conveniently close to the door. Chairs for visitors, no doubt. Thanos hopes these two patients in particular don’t have more than one person coming tomorrow, because they’ll definitely be out one chair after tonight. Thanos watches as Namgyu tiptoes over only a few steps, and wraps both of his hands around either armrest. He lifts the chair with no struggle, and Thanos holds the door wide so that he can get through without clanking any metal together. Thanos doesn’t even know what he would say were they to alert a nurse right now. How could they possibly explain themselves? Hi, we’re just exploring. We’re from the crazy people unit several floors and locked doors down, don’t mind us. Do you like our pyjamas? 

Namgyu is clearly having much more trouble controlling his laughter than he is carrying the chair. And Thanos is knocked out of his worries instantaneously at the sight of it. Namgyu is clearly turning pink, even in the dark nighttime lights of this section of the hospital. Thanos holds his arms out, offering to carry the chair instead so that Namgyu can focus on one thing at once. But Namgyu shakes his head sharply and sets off on light feet back towards the stairwell door. 

As they approach, and there remains no audible footsteps anywhere near them— Thanos slips a hand into Namgyu’s waistband to fetch the keyring. He does it from behind him, Namgyu still carrying the chair. The skin that cushions Namgyu’s hip bone is cold against Thanos’ knuckles as he pulls the keys from his pants.  

Maybe. Not the smartest action to do without so much as a warning.

”AH!” 

Namgyu shrieks and jumps, like he’s just been attacked. His hands fly up with the surprise and the panic, straight up to his mouth. As a result, the chair clatters to the ground loudly. Holy fuck. They probably have about ten seconds to get out of here. 

“Hey! Somebody need help?” Calls a hospital worker from down the hall. 

Thanos runs at the door and shoves the key in the lock as quickly as he can locate it, unmarked and hanging against the stopper on the ring. The last one they had attempted. The door opens with no issue, and Thanos turns around to see Namgyu holding the chair again, ready to dash by him. Thanos pushes the door open further, and it's a blur of motion from there. They get their makeshift stepping stool through the door and close it in a matter of milliseconds.

Then, they face the harrowing task of climbing the flights between here and the roof hatch— while carrying a chair— while being chased. 

They don’t look behind them to see if they have actually been chased all the way out into the stairwell, because that would be a waste of time— and that’s how girls in horror movies trip and get caught by the killer. They just run up the steps and gasp for air and Thanos can only watch in awe as Namgyu carries the chair with what looks like zero trouble. He watches Namgyu’s hands go white with the grip he has on it, and he watches as his forearms shake only slightly when he readjusts his hold on it. Thanos can think about how nice that looks later. 

They reach the hatch with absolutely no fuel in their tanks, and Thanos isn’t sure if its his heart drumming in his ears or somebody coming up the steps behind them— but either way the noise pushes him to make sure the chair is correctly positioned under the hatch, and then gesture for Namgyu to get on his shoulders again. 

It takes some adjusting, but within a minute Thanos is standing on the chair, and Namgyu is on his shoulders. Then, the next moment, Namgyu is pulling himself up onto the roof, his upper body disappearing over the hatch and his legs now kicking as he brings a knee up. Thanos watches unashamedly as the rest of him disappears onto the roof with a small kick. Then, he glances at the stairwell, still unsure if he hears anything. He stands alone on the chair while Namgyu probably catches his breath and prepares to pull him up.

Namgyus’s face reappears, popping out from above with a big grin, already celebrating their win, obviously. The moon shines down behind him creating a halo effect, white light blooms all around him as his hands descend towards Thanos.   Namgyu grabs him around both wrists, and pulls him up just high enough for Thanos to get his chest over the hatch and onto the roof. Thanos once again marvels at how much strength there is in his lean friend, and as Namgyu helps him get fully up out of the hatch, he cherishes the small supporting push Namgyu’s hand makes on the back of his thigh. 

Thanos throws himself down onto the rooftop and lays with his hands on his chest, feeling it rise and fall as he wheezes painfully. He turns his head away from the sky just to watch as Namgyu shuts the roof hatch and then crawls over to him. 

They made it. 

The cool air doesn’t feel this good in the gardens. With walls all around you and windows into rooms full of other patients and staff members. There is none of the true privacy, true peace of nature. Here, up here, Thanos feels like they are really far attached. Like they’re someplace completely disconnected from all of it. 

“S-sorry I… hah, jumped like that back there,” Namgyu says, taking deep breaths through the sentence. He flops down next to Thanos and faces the stars. Thanos doesn’t follow his lead, he watches with his cheek squished against the cold rooftop as the redness of overexertion slowly begins to fade on Namgyu’s face. Thanos wants to tell him not to apologize, that he was crazy for slipping a hand in his pants like that and expecting no shock. 

Don’t worry, my boy. He’d say, if he could. That’s my bad. My fault, Namsu. He’d say. And suddenly, with Namgyu facing the beautiful serene blueness above them, no eye on his mouth, or his facial expression, or whatever body language Thanos attempts to communicate through— Thanos feels more stuck than ever in his lack of speaking ability. 

“It uh—“ Namgyu speaks again, his voice still hushed with the need for oxygen. Thanos’ eyes fall to where Namgyu’s hair spreads out against the concrete. Some of it is even close enough to tickle at Thanos’ skin. ”It just surprised me. Your hand was cold.”

His hand was cold? Namgyu was the cold one! Thanos wants to fucking say that, but he can’t. 

Thanos half thinks that they’re going to hear somebody call up through the hatch any moment now. Might as well not take this time for granted. He pulls out the notepad with a sigh. This seems to alert Namgyu, because he turns away from the sky and towards Thanos, with what looks like concern.

”I’m sorry we can just chill, you don’t have to..” Namgyu says, as Thanos pops the cap off of the marker. “I just needed to apologize because I almost got us caught.”

’my fault too my boy’ he writes. Namgyu huffs as he reads it. ‘Think they’re gonna find the chair and come get us?’ 

“I could sit on the hatch to keep it closed,” Namgyu suggests, without a thought. Almost like he had already had that quip planned. Thanos snorts. 

‘What would they do then? Send a helicopter?’ Thanos writes, then he doodles a little helicopter next to the sentence, and Namgyu giggles as he watches him do it. 

Everything seems to glow, up here. Like they’re actually way up in space. The cityscape feels far away, and despite its light pollution, you can see a startling amount of stars. 

“I bet we’d be on the news if they sent a helicopter… breaking: two crazies stuck on hospital roof..” Namgyu laughs through his own words. Thanos smiles wide and writes some more. “Oh sorry, I mean. Super famous rapper and crazy friend stuck on hospital roof.” 

‘Not the worst place we’ve been stuck’ He writes, below his gorgeous helicopter drawing. 

“Guess not,” Namgyu replies.  

‘Rapping doesn’t cancel out the crazy, btw’ Thanos adds. And Namgyu doesn’t respond, but when Thanos glances at him, he’s smiling. ‘And super famous is a stretch’ 

“That’s not what you told me the first time we met,” Namgyu says. “I recall the words super famous coming out of your mouth more than once actually.” 

‘You know I don’t remember’ Thanos answers. 

And it feels so relaxed, so normal, so familiar, that it almost feels like the games never happened. That they’re just having a smoke beside the club on an especially intimate night. Namgyu looking over his shoulder every five seconds for his boss coming to drag him back inside, or maybe scold him for taking double his break time. Thanos fuzzily watching the smoke drift up into the sky, the same sky they’re looking at right now. The same sky that sat above them through each game. And each dull night in this lousy place. 

‘Wait no i do remember,’ And Thanos ignores the fact that he’s written the word so sloppily it's almost impossible to read, Namgyu gets it. ‘You said u only serve the super famous guests’

Namgyu chokes a little, and Thanos can’t tell if it's laughter or perhaps embarrassment at being caught out. It’s really unfortunate that Thanos doesn’t remember many more specific words of that first exchange. He just remembers telling Namgyu what he wanted to hear.  

“Because I’m not technically a server at all, Thanos,” Namgyu says, laughing in disbelief. “I don’t usually have to do that tedious shit.”

’But I was important’ Thanos scribbles. Namgyu looks away with an amused scoff, but he doesn’t deny it. Thanos smiles at the thought of Namgyu in one of the back rooms, telling their serving staff not to approach him. A ‘let me handle this’ conversation. A frustrated ‘I’ve got this one’ or a desperate  ‘Let me take it’ ..  Thanos isn’t sure which. The idea of Namgyu with his hands clasped together looking at his higher up with big eyes, asking if he can spend the night helping just Thanos, saying it’ll get them lots of new attention in the future, lots of good deals, lots of money— it’s a pretty picture. 

Even prettier with the knowledge that Thanos had absolutely nothing in store for them. And he only kept coming back because he didn’t have to spend anything there. Not with Namgyu keeping all his needs met for not a single bill. He may have put some new eyes on the club, sure, but Thanos hadn’t paid them anything. They’d probably lost more serving Thanos free shit than they gained with some of Thanos’ followers discovering the place. 

It’s silent for a moment or two, and Thanos writes again. 

‘You say don’t. Present tense. Like you still work there. Think your job is wondering where you are?’ He asks, and the marker ink blends together some here and there because he’s being so lazy, but Namgyu seems to be able to read it anyway. 

“What are you saying?” Namgyu asks, angry, suddenly. He curls up into a sitting position and turns to lean over Thanos, blocking the moon again. That same white bloom behind his head. Thanos lets his notepad fall to his chest as he looks up at him.

”Are you saying you think they fired me? For being away for….” Namgyu’s irritated and offended tone trails off into silence for a moment, as if thinking for the first time at this second if he has lost his job. “Weeks. With no word…”

It sounds completely dejected. Thanos feels bad for even bringing it up.

Namgyu doesn’t say anything else, just stares down at Thanos with his mouth slightly open, uncertainty and maybe a little bit of hurt in his eyes. 

Thanos stares back, and then brings his notepad up in front of his face to write again, blocking Namgyu behind it. As he writes, Namgyu flops back down onto the concrete, even closer to Thanos this time, sort of curling up on his side so that he can peer up at what Thanos is writing. It’s hard to see it when he holds it up against the sky like that. Thanos sees Namgyu squint in his peripherals.

’relax. when i drop my next album, u can come work for me’ Thanos writes. 

He can practically hear Namgyu roll his eyes, a small amount of laughter escaping him, although it still sounds like he’s down. Thanos feels like a dick for bringing up work like that. He’s lucky he’s self-employed. Now that he thinks about it, there are probably plenty of people they were in the games with who lost their jobs as a result of going missing for a week. Two now if they were hospitalized like Namgyu and Thanos. 

“Oh yeah, because you’re super certain your next drop is going to pop off, Mr. Super Famous?” Namgyu teases. And he is laying so close to Thanos that his words make little sparks against Thanos’ ear. 

‘Ya. I’ve been writing already’ The marker bleeds horribly on the page, but Thanos knows Namgyu reads it, because the laughter stops, and he feels serious eyes on him.

”Really? In here?” Namgyu points to the notepad. Thanos nods.

”That’s… that’s cool, man,” Namgyu tells him. “I hope when we get out you can uh.. find the stage again. It’s definitely where you belong.”

Thanos wants to write something back to him. But he doesn’t know what. He’s completely stumped on what to say to that. How does he support Namgyu in a similar way? Tell him he’s made to be a poorly treated entertainment service worker? Tell him the club is calling him back? Lie and say they don’t have another guy with a slick back and a sly smile waiting to take his place? Tell him his lot in life is to cling to drunk fools and squeeze the cash out of them? 

“Even in the games,” Namgyu sighs, seemingly not expecting any such comment in return. “You were putting on a show. It’s written all over you, you know? You’re a performer.”

Thanos turns to face him, subconsciously letting the notepad fall again. Namgyu faces the sky. 

“You had people excited to see you, even in there. In a place like that. So imagine how many people are out here, waiting for you to come back to them,” Namgyu says, dreamily. “Imagine. Even after a rough patch, you have people that believe in you and your art.”

Thanos says nothing, rendered completely speechless by the sincerity. And he watches with his lips parted and his eyes stinging wide as Namgyu blinks up at the stars. Watches as his chest lifts and falls with another sigh.

”I’m reading this book about uh. About a man who fought on both sides of the 6.25 war,” Namgyu says, suddenly. Strangely. And his voice sounds almost garbled, almost choked up, or withheld. “And so.. he sees the atrocities happening from both perspectives.”

Thanos isn’t sure where he’s going with this. 

“I voted for both sides in the games but. I don’t feel connected with him,” Namgyu admits. And, as if the next bit is going to be hard to get out, he takes a shuddery breath.

 “I guess I’m… less like him and.. more like the war itself. I think you could look at me from all perspectives and still want me to end,” Namgyu whispers.

Thanos can’t think of anything quick enough. How can he possibly respond to something like that? 

 “I have nobody waiting on me here. Just angry people in the afterlife,” Namgyu says, still refusing to look Thanos’ way. “For good reason. We did a lot of bad, Thanos.”

WE?

Thanos sits up, and hurriedly pulls his notepad into his lap, immediately getting to work writing. Namgyu stays laying down, and he even closes his eyes for a moment. 

‘Everybody did bad in there,’ Thanos writes, in a rush. ‘Minsu tried to kill you. MG coin almost killed me’

Namgyu blinks his eyes open to read it, then shuts them again to respond. 

”He tried to,” Namgyu says, “I actually killed people. You actually killed people.” 

Thanos can’t help it, his mouth opens in a rough whisper “wha..”

 Namgyu’s eyes shoot open at the tiny vocalization, and he sits up to meet Thanos. He grabs at Thanos’ marker, holding it tightly even as he tries to bring it down to the page. And Thanos hardly noticed that he was shaking, only now does it stop- held in Namgyu’s tight grip. 

”I don’t mean anything by it. It’s just the truth. I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” Namgyu says, all too casually. “It’s not as if we can go back and change things. And it's not like I’d be willing to do that even if we could. I’m just saying we’re…”

They stare at each other. 

“We’ve both had what we wanted before.. good stuff, money. Did that make you any different? Did that settle what you have inside?” Namgyu questions, and he pokes a finger into the center of Thanos’ chest, to illustrate the point. “It doesn’t matter where we are.. how well we’re doing. We’re.. especially when we’re together.. we’re..”

They stare a little more. Thanos feels his eyes uncontrollably dart down to Namgyu’s lips and up again.  

Thanos rips his hand out of Namgyu’s hold, and he brings the marker tip to the new page of his notepad. 

‘You’re saying we’re the war? You could be team red or team blue and you’d still think we’re fucked? We’re the conflict? We’re the problem?’ Thanos writes.

”Well. Yeah,” Namgyu says, after reading it.

For some reason, Thanos inches closer to him. They are face to face, and Thanos feels his hold on his notepad and marker fail. Both of the items fall to the concrete. They’re so close together, Thanos can feel the heat coming off of Namgyu.

 “If the games told me anything.. they told me that you could drop a new album and take me to work on your tour with you.. make lots of money.. live really comfortably... but we’d still be.. we’d still be what we are,” Namgyu whispers.

Thanos moves forward, and he places a hand on Namgyu’s cheek, like the moment they first reunited in this place. The moonlight shines down on them from above, and Namgyu’s brows and nose cast shadows down his face. The whitest pools of skin, the areas most generously doused in moonlight, they shine like silver. His face looks and feels so smooth against Thanos’ palm. His hair blows lightly in the wind, the city lights cascading down the hills behind him. The stars above shifting and dimming to make way for him. There is a buzzing in the space between them, magnetic and loud and beckoning. It feels warm and cold at once. 

Their lips are so close, Thanos looks at him expectantly, waiting for some kind of confirmation, and Namgyu lets his eyelids fall shut lightly, leaning forward, leaning into Thanos’ hand. It’s the indication Thanos needs, and he moves forward ever so slightly more, angling himself so that their noses don’t collide, and then—

“HEY! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING UP THERE!” A furious yell comes from through the hatch, and the loud and hard bangs of a fist hitting metal shock both Namgyu and Thanos out of their moment. 

They jump apart, and their heads both turn sharply to face the hatch as it shakes and juts with the force of the person hitting it. The banging sounds impossibly loud, echoing out into the city. 

“HOW DID YOU GET UP THERE?!” The voice rages on. 

Thanos glances at Namgyu, who gazes right back at him. And they both look away at the same time. Thanos’ face feels hot, and his hands are cold on the rooftop concrete. Well this is perfect. There’s no way they’re letting Namgyu switch rooms with Minsu now. 

Chapter Text

Hairclip nurse is growing sort of fond of her strange new patient. It is his fourth full day in the ward, fifth if you count his arrival day. And already he has attacked somebody, and now been caught sneaking up to the roof with another patient. Hairclip thinks it is safe to say Namgyu will be staying longer than the remainder of his projected weeklong visit. 

She’s sort of happy that he’s been such a horrible nuisance, because it means she doesn’t have to adjust her schedule and composure for a new patient anytime soon. Usually, when patients are found on the roof, it’s harrowing and hugely problematic. Both for the patient and for the staff that then has to monitor them extraordinarily closely for other self-harm attempts. Usually, it sends the whole ward into a frenzy. They all question their own work and the impact they are having on patients. She says usually, but she only recalls one time a patient managed to sneak up to the roof. Hairclip was under the impression that since then it had been made pretty impossible for any patient to make it up there. 

But Namgyu continues to surprise her, and not only did he make it up there, he made it up there with his buddy. And it didn’t appear as though they were attempting to do anything horrible like a suicide pact or something like that. Apparently, when the security guards, nurses, and a doctor from the sixth floor found them, they were just sitting there. Not anywhere near the edge. Not looking particularly troubled, either. 

Just.. sitting together. On the roof that they inexplicably found their way up to. Through multiple locked doors and an unreachable hatch. 

It’s a little sweet if you don’t think too hard about it. It makes her wonder how trapped the both of them feel in this situation. It is supposed to be a place of healing, growth, change, comfort. Not a place one feels the need to sneak around and make escape attempts. Or, perhaps more accurately, escapism attempts. It didn’t seem like either one of them was planning on scaling down the side of the building and running off into the night. If anything, they were just getting some fresh air. It really makes one wonder where their minds are at. 

The hairclip nurse knows that the personalities of patients like these are bound to be a little out of sorts. They’ve been dropped off in this place straight from a disaster scene. And despite her and the other ward staff lacking much knowledge about said disaster, it is clear as day that the three new patients are all struggling. It’s one thing to be dealing with problems for a long while and eventually build up the bravery to seek help. It’s one thing to have a family member watch you closely for a long time and encourage you to get help. It’s another thing entirely to be saved from untimely death and forced into a place like this. 

On top of that, it is evident to the hairclip nurse that Namgyu could have visited a place like this before the kidnapping situation even occurred. That may be an overstep to assume, but based on what she has seen and heard from him, it seems as though there was a lot going on in his life before the big traumatic event. They aren’t supposed to and don’t typically gossip to each other about their patients, especially if they have nothing to do with each other’s healing journeys. But the hairclip nurse had heard similar talk from Subong’ nurse. That it seems like he was struggling already before being captured and injured. 

And. One look at Minsu tells the hairclip nurse that he was also having a hard time before whatever he was rescued from. As unfortunate a reality that might be.

The prospect of all three of these patients having been in bad situations before even being kidnapped, it sort of makes the hairclip nurse wonder if the perpetrators had been targeting struggling people. Some sort of strategy to keep their act hidden. Grabbing people that didn’t have family looking out for them. People who didn’t have too much to lose in the eyes of the government. People who may not be missed. It’s a scary thought. 

More than anything, to be able to help these three get better, hairclip nurse wants to know more about their situation. Here, right now, in the light of one of the checkup rooms, she is carding her nails through Namgyu’s hair and bringing it up into a clip to peer at the injury underneath. Why had he run off in the middle of the night with the other patient and hurt himself? What drove the two of them to do such a risky thing? What is running through Namgyu’s mind right now?

As a caretaker, she’s disturbed by the whole thing. 

“Ow!” Namgyu hisses as she accidentally tugs at a stray hair a little too hard as she attempts to gather another chunk of hair up into a clip. It’s tough to avoid as the injury had been untreated for several hours through the night. It had bled a lot and dried, sticking a bunch of his hair together in gruesome red knots. He jolts where he is seated on the paper-covered bench. 

“Sorry, Namgyu. The blood has dried into your hair,” Hairclip tells him. “Can you explain to me how you hit your head, please?” 

They wouldn’t have even noticed the injury had the head nurse not called for the two of them to be patted down and checked twice. It’s the morning following their little excursion, and the staff still have no idea how the two of them made it up to the roof in the first place. They didn't find any items that could have been used as lock picks, nor did they find any actual keys on either of them. Only Subong’ notepad, bulky marker that wouldn't fit in any key hole, and that cross Namgyu carries with him. The mystery remains a mystery. And now, after forcing the two of them to sleep for a couple of hours and give the staff the opportunity to think through how they will handle this issue, it is the wee hours of morning and they are doing a second more thorough checkup on the two escapees. Ideally with more clear brains. 

It had taken approximately no time at all for Namgyu to twitch and grunt when the back of his scalp was grazed over. The nurse had immediately pulled her hand away, but then squinted and looked closer in the warm light of day, to see the rather large head wound. She’s glad she had bothered to check over his head at all, because it looks horribly painful. 

”I fell,” Namgyu tells her, which is entirely unhelpful.

”Well yes. On the roof?” Hairclip asks, as she finally successfully clips the rest of the hair up and out of the way. “Was it the result of a fight?” 

“What?” Namgyu asks, and his head turns so that he can cast a sideways glare her way. “No.”

”Alright, You’re absolutely certain this injury wasn’t due to an altercation with Subong?” 

“No! I just fell. On concrete,” Namgyu says. “I didn't think it was bad.”

“It’s not horrible. We’ll have to staple it,” The nurse tells him, as she brings a cloth to the wound. 

”Eugh..” Namgyu groans, likely at the idea of surgical staples in the head. Hairclip can’t say she blames him.

”Willing to tell me why you went up there now?” The nurse prompts, as the hairs begin to separate from each other under the wet cloth. The nurse dabs at the wound, luckily it doesn’t appear to be dirty. There are no small stones or anything like that in it. It must have been a quick and clean impact. 

Namgyu stays silent, and the nurse holds back a sigh. 

“I understand if you’re feeling stuck. But the roof isn’t safe. I’m not sure how the both of you got up there, but you need to know that it can’t happen again,” The nurse tells him. And she tries to say it without sounding patronizing. It’s such a nightmare of hers to come across as though she means to baby her patients. Namgyu is a grown man and he should be treated as such. “I don’t know what they are planning to do about this, but I can’t imagine you’ll be leaving at the end of the week, Namgyu.” 

Namgyu makes no noise. And the nurse finishes up with cleaning the area around the wound and carefully pulls the previously stuck hairs aside. She clips it out of the way and picks up the sanitation kit to properly clean the actual opening on his head. 

“Odds are you’re going to be watched even closer now,” Hairclip continues, as she leans in closer to eye the injury to see if they need actual sutures and not just staples. “Subong as well. After the incident with Minsu we were just starting to trust you again.” 

“I didn’t ask to be put in here,” Namgyu says, dizzily. Concerned, the nurse steps around him to look at his face. He looks a little out of it. 

“I’m going to have the doctor come in and check you for a concussion after this,” she tells him, moving back around the back of him to resume cleaning and examining. “I don’t suppose many people aspire to be put in psychiatric care, Namgyu. I’m sorry that this is your situation, I really am. But if you want to get better and get out you have to try.”  

“I don’t need to get better,” Namgyu says, and it’s a little slurred. The nurse purses her lips. “I’m the same as I was before.” 

“That’s not what you said in that first group meeting,” The nurse counters. “You’re dealing with a lot of anger. I don’t think being around Subong has been helpful.” 

This seems to bother Namgyu quite a bit, because he turns on the bench to face her again. Eyebrows furrowed, eyes intense, teeth gritted. 

“I was much angrier before I knew he was here with me,” Namgyu says. And, as much as she doesn’t want to believe that— it reads as extremely honest. The nurse tilts her head, and Namgyu slowly turns back around to let her continue her job. 

“You don’t think you’re angry anymore? Sad? About what happened to you?” Hairclip prods. 

“You don’t know what happened to me,” Namgyu hisses. And then, strangely: “I’m not angry about how the world works. That’s somebody else’s job. That 456 guy will deal with that.” 

“I’m sorry?” Hairclip asks, half expecting another garbled bout of nonsense from his mouth. She’s beginning to think she should go get the doctor sooner rather than later. “You feel like what happened to you is just… how the world works?” 

“That’s not- I’m- well- yeah,” Namgyu nods, and then winces, as though the small head movement had hurt him. Yes. Concussion check sooner rather than later. 

“Careful with your head,” Hairclip tells him. “Just because bad things happen, it doesn’t mean you have to just accept your situation as it is. It’s okay to want justice. Or.. support or.. it’s okay to just be angry about it.” 

“I’m not angry anymore,” Namgyu snaps. “You probably would be. If you knew what happened.” 

The nurse pauses, and sets down her tools. 

“Tell me, then. Tell me what happened to you three,” Hairclip says. “What information are they keeping from us about your kidnapping?” 

Namgyu looks at her for a moment or two, then snorts. Despite his hard exterior, he does still look angry about whatever it is. Angry and upset and moved. He looks like a person does after they’ve been wronged and changed by an experience. 

“We weren’t really kidnapped,” Namgyu tells her. Which is the last thing she’s expecting. “We went willingly. But we didn’t know exactly what we were in for. We thought we were taking part in some big gambling game.” 

The nurse circles around to sit in the chair across from the patient’s bench. Namgyu watches her, but he avoids eye contact as he speaks. 

“We didn’t know where we were going either. They knocked us out and put us on an island,” Namgyu stammers. And his words blend together like he’s about to fall over. And island? Is he fucking with her? “And we didn’t know it was an island until we were rescued and shipped home awake.” 

The nurse tries very very hard to appear as though she believes every word, because she’s certain Namgyu would stop talking if he were to catch on that she’s suspicious. But, as crazy as it all sounds, it doesn’t seem like he’s lying. The way he holds himself doesn’t indicate shame or guilt or any of the other feelings that come with making shit up. The nurse feels her chest ache, at the idea that this is the truth. That these people were unknowingly herded onto a foreign piece of land with no idea. 

“We thought that.. if you lose a game, you get slapped. Or you go home,” Namgyu continues, hands gripping both of his knees. Slapped? So they were gambling with their bodies? Like one of those extreme game shows? “But instead, when people lost, they were shot.” 

… what. 

“Like. Shot and killed?” Hairclip asks. And Namgyu’s face remains cold, serious. True. 

“Shot and killed,” He nods. 

The nurse processes that for a moment. 

“You mean to tell me that, you three went to some illegal gambling ring.. where if you lose a game, you are killed?” Hairclip repeats, and the honesty on Namgyu’s dizzy face makes her ears ring. It makes her heart clench. It makes her throat close up. Is this real? Is this why the government had some weird agency withholding patient information from them? 

“Yes. There were hundreds of us,” Namgyu continues. “We were made to play several games. They were highly engineered, in massive arenas. The people running it had obviously been doing it for a long time. With hundreds and hundreds of other people, probably.” 

The nurse stares at him, looking for some indication that he’s lying. 

“And Subong and Minsu were there with you?” Hairclip asks him. Namgyu looks unimpressed, if a little peeved. 

“Yes,” He answers. 

“But.. you knew each other before all of that?” 

Namgyu gives her a strange look. Like she shouldn’t know that. 

And. She shouldn’t. The only reason she knew that was because that newbie nurse with the underground rap obsession had blurted it out. She absolutely shouldn’t know that. She feels bad for even remembering it. And who knows if it’s reality. That girl seems to be up in the clouds. If anything, hairclip should report her behaviour. She is frankly surprised that the head nurse hasn’t already done that. From hairclip’s point of view, it sort of seems as though everybody is a little too involved in these people’s cases. Out of curiosity bred by the lack of knowledge, probably. It would be going better on all fronts had they been informed properly about Minsu, Subong and Namgyus experiences. 

“I apologize. I’m only assuming with your closeness—“

“Cut the bullshit,” Namgyu tells her, unimpressed. “Somebody here knows him. Right? A fan?” 

The nurse doesn’t know how to respond. Surely it will make Namgyu uncomfortable to know that one of the nurses is essentially a follower. A fan. Maybe not of Namgyu himself but certainly of Subong, and Namgyu by extension. 

“It’s Minsu’s nurse, right? She stayed to listen to the group meeting yesterday and she wouldn’t stop looking at Thanos,” Namgyu says. 

Thanos. Right. That’s the rapper name, the nurse supposes. It’s interesting that Namgyu chooses to continue to call him that and not Subong, especially in a clinical environment like this where everybody is being referred to by government name. It is none of her business how they address each other, however, and right now what’s important is to make sure Namgyu’s head injury isn’t severe. And maybe continue to learn a little more about their kidnapping. 

“He had fans in the games too,” Namgyu continues, when he picks up that the nurse will not confirm his theory. The games. That’s what they call them? It feels too casual. “Doesn’t surprise me that somebody working here knows who he is. He was pretty big for a while.” 

“And.. Namgyu, you said there were hundreds of people in there with you?” The nurse steers the conversation backward, and lifts a hand to pick at her hairclip. 

”Yeah, are you listening? Hundreds. Probably a third of us made it out. Maybe less,” Namgyu says. “They were rescuing people undercover, so. I don’t know who really died and who was saved. But I saw hundreds of people get shot. I’m sure you don’t believe a word out of my mouth right now, so you can stop pretending.”

“I’m.. I don’t believe that you’re lying to me Namgyu,” Hairclip nurse tells him, truthfully. ”I can’t imagine the things you saw.”

He looks at her, with a little more grace behind the glare. Perhaps taking her word seriously.

”Now you know as much as my victim services officer. They only know the basics too,” Namgyu explains, and then he winces again and brings a hand up to press at his temple. “Unless you were there, you don’t get to know anything.”

”I’m assuming that’s because they’re putting together a massive case,” The nurse thinks aloud. “It will probably be global news as soon as they have everything organized. They’re likely just preparing to bring the perpetrators to justice, Namgyu.”

”Either that or they’re preparing to cover it up completely,” Namgyu says, dejected. 

“You do care. You wouldn’t want what happened to you to be swept under the rug,” The nurse observes. 

“It’s not about- it’s not me. I wouldn’t want.. Ugh,” Namgyu trails off. The wall he has built up about the whole situation is proving difficult to chip through. It is clear that he wants to show zero vulnerability about the whole thing. A false layer of indifference that the nurse recognizes seeing on Subong as well. “Whether they’re covering it up or investigating, it doesn’t matter. Either way I’m out and he’s out and there are other people dealing with it.”

”But you want people dealing with it,” The nurse picks out. Namgyu’s brows dig down towards his eyes. He is hunching over himself a little bit. “He’s out? Who’s he? Subong?” 

”Can you quit it? You’re just as informed as my officer now. What more do you want from me,” Namgyu grumbles. 

”I don’t want anything from you, Namgyu. I’m only trying to help you work through this,” Hairclip says. “I want you to know..”

She moves forward and places a hand on his shoulder. An attempt at comfort. 

”I want you to know that I believe you. And that the world will know what happened,” She says. And, whatever comfort she had intended to provide, slips sideways. Namgyu jolts backwards and frowns, almost as though it was the worst possible thing she could have said. She backs up. “Thank you for telling me about it. I’m going to have the doctor come in and check your head alright?” 

And she leaves the room as Namgyu turns away and mumbles something to himself. She can’t help but wonder why he may have reacted so poorly to her words. The world will know, she had said. And, based on what she had picked up from him: that was exactly what he wanted. For it to be ‘dealt with’, for people to know more than just ‘the basics’ as he had put it. Although she would argue that none of what he told her was basic in any sense of the word. 

Hairclip wonders, as she walks down the hallway to fetch the doctor, if all of what he said was true. If the victim’s services officers were indeed working to keep an underground gambling/kill ring under wraps. It almost sounded like gladiator games. Made to play for money, with death as the consequence of loss. The consequence or, the result. It sounded insane. Especially the bit about how many people were involved. Could it have truly been hundreds of people? Or was there more to whatever substance these three had taken during their time captured? Had Namgyu hallucinated the whole thing under the influence of the pills? How can she possibly know without asking the officers?

And.. would she be in trouble were she to ask the officers such a thing? Would they be shocked and appalled that she knows as much as she does? As ‘basic’ as that is? And. Could Namgyu be right that there is no further investigation or criminal case being put together? That it will simply be lost to time? Protected only in the confines of the victims’ minds? Potentially easily written off like the nurse almost just did, as a hallucination, a delusion. They were all now patients in a psychiatric hospital, after all. The nurse thinks there would never be a more convenient way to keep things hidden. 

Is.. are… were these three patients sent here specifically for that reason? Is the nurse a part of the coverup? Is she unknowingly partaking in rendering Namgyu, Minsu, and Subong’s stories useless? Were they sent here just to make sure their experiences will never be taken seriously? 

…

The hairclip nurse pauses in the middle of the hallway. Patients and other staff members dodging her and moving by her as she comes to a sudden stop. 

The next thing she knows, she has quickly sent the doctor over to the checkup room Namgyu occupies, and she has rushed over to the back office to find her colleagues. 

“Have you, have you heard anything strange from your patient? About his kidnapping?” Hairclip asks. And she’s glad that the newbie nurse isn’t in the room. She is only accompanied by Subong’s nurse and a couple other uninvolved nurses.

”Well. Yeah. Of course. Virtually everything he writes is strange. And those officers seem to be pretty careful about what they tell us. Why?” Subong’ nurse leans forward. “Did Namgyu say something troubling?” 

“Well he just… tried to briefly explain. The way he described their situation.. it. No wonder both of them are acting out,” Hairclip says, with a sigh. “It sounds like whatever they were rescued from.. it sounds like it was something much bigger than what we’re used to dealing with.”

”It doesn’t excuse this behaviour. They deliberately snuck up to the fucking roof! Who knows where else they’ve been! For all we know the two of them have been messing with hospital documents,” Subong’ nurse says, clearly peeved. His fists are clenched at his sides and his mouth is curled downwards in an ugly grimace. 

“That’s a jump,” Hairclip says. The other three nurses in the room eye each other with curiosity and discomfort. Hairclip immediately feels bad for bringing up the current issue with them in the vicinity. Frankly, it's nobody’s business except for the specific caregivers of Namgyu Subong and Minsu. Even then, Hairclip would prefer if the newbie nurse didn’t get a word in. In her opinion, backed up by Namgyu’s clear disturbment, newbie nurse should probably be reassigned. ”They’re struggling. It really sounds like they just needed some fresh air.”

”It doesn’t matter. They’re adults. They know better. They deliberately worked to keep us unaware. They both had fucking pillows stuffed up under their duvets like teenagers,” Subong’ nurse says, an enraged glint in his eye. “It was stupid and dangerous. Namgyu got hurt who fucking knows how.” 

“He says he fell,” Hairclip informs him.

”Well he wouldn’t have fallen if he had stayed in bed. We were about to let up on the surveillance! They’ve fucked it up for themselves,” Subong’s nurse says. “I can’t, in good conscience, let them near each other or out on their own for the rest of their stays. It’s just too risky, knowing what they’re willing to do.” 

”That’s ridiculous. We’ll have another checkup with their officers, the doctor that came to see Subong will tell us where he’s at with his voice, and we’ll move forward from there,” Hairclip nurse says. 

“We can’t just let this go,” Subong’s nurse says, frustratedly. 

”I’m not saying we should. But.. that’s not even what I wanted to discuss. This uh. This kidnapping, why is it exactly that we weren’t more thoroughly informed?”  Hairclip asks. Subong’s nurse rolls his eyes. 

“Who knows. They’re treating it like a goddamn secret service operation,” Subong’s nurse responds, running both hands through his hair and sitting down in one of the office chairs. Hairclip bites her lip.

”That might not be too far off,” She says. Subong’s nurse squints at her. 

“They refer to it as ‘the games’. Or at least, Subong does. I can never tell what bits he’s fibbing and what parts he’s being serious about,” Subong’s nurse says.

”I’d argue all of it is serious,” Hairclip says. 

“Just because they’re spewing the same shit doesn’t mean it isn’t made up shit,” Subong’s nurse says.

”Don’t you think there’s a reason we haven’t been given any more information than absolutely necessary? Don’t you think it's strange that they were all brought in by teams of ‘officers’ from an agency they couldn’t even name for us?”  Hairclip asks. 

“Well they looked official enough. They had real police with them,” Subong’s nurse points out.

”I’m not- I’m not saying they weren’t official. I’m saying the exact opposite. They were super secret and super official. Whatever went on- whatever Subong and Namgyu and Minsu went through— I’m thinking it’s more extreme than we could imagine,” Hairclip says. “More than just three patients. Namgyu said there were hundreds of victims. A secret island.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” Subong’s nurse asks. “I think the officers would have told us if this involved hundreds of other people.” 

“That’s the thing. I don’t know if they would,” Hairclip responds, with a short shake of her head. Subong’s nurse bites his lip.

The other nurses in the room pick up that the conversation is slightly heated, and they both shuffle towards the door. They exit with quiet murmurs, and both Hairclip and Subong’s nurse watch them leave. 

”Alright. So what. What does it change if their story is completely true? They need to follow the rules and commit to healing just the same as any other patients,” Subong’s nurse says. “Giant underground gambling scheme or not.”

”It’s more than gambling. People were being killed. I bet if we brought up what we know to those officers next time they visit— they’d have no choice but to let us in. Tell it how it is,” Hairclip says.

“If it's as serious as you’re making it sound, they might just tell us we know too much and snuff us on the spot,” Subong’s nurse jokes. Hairclip does not allow a twitch of humour to move her face. She stares flatly at him, unimpressed.

”That’s not funny. I think they’re dealing with a lot more than we think,” Hairclip says.

”Of course they are. Everyone in here is. It doesn’t matter if they were victims of some international scheme, or if they were victims of petty crime. They are equal in their journey for growth and betterment. We can’t treat them any differently just because they were shipped in with some fancy agents,” Subong’s nurse says. “They broke the rules and put themselves in danger. We have to react appropriately and make sure it doesn’t happen again.” 

“I hear you,” Hairclip tries.

”Namgyu is effectively on his second strike. We need to make sure he knows not to try something again, because god knows how long we might be stuck with him if he does,” Subong’s nurse says. And Hairclip resents the way he speaks about it. As though any patient, difficult or violent or otherwise, is a burden in any way. It’s a gross mindset she doesn’t expect from him. She can’t help it, she feels the disapproval on her face grow. 

“That doctor.. the one who rescued Subong. He was actually there. He may be willing to tell us something,” Hairclip says, driving the conversation once again back to ‘the games’ and away from Subong and Namgyu’s nighttime excursion. 

“You’re not focused on the right thing right now. Our patients have been sneaking around the building after dark,” Subong’s nurse says, exasperatedly. 

“You’re not focused on the right thing,” Hairclip counters. And she knows it’s lazy, but it's what she believes. “I think, if we’re going to continue to try to help these people— we need to understand what they’re recovering from.”

Subong’s nurse looks at her tiredly, but he doesn’t argue. Hairclip nurse decides to continue. 

“Especially if they’re going to keep causing problems for themselves. Especially if they end up staying here for a long time,” She says. “We need to know what we’re dealing with.”

It’s silent in the office for a moment. 

“Look,” Subong’s nurse says. “If you want to speak to the officers next time they come, or this doctor- I don’t care. You can do that. But don’t involve us all. If you’re so keen to know more, you can try your luck. But I’m not going through a formal request or anything like that. I have serious concerns about what that might entail with these people.”

”I’m taking that as permission,” Hairclip nurse says. 

“That’s fine. I’m going to spend my time and energy on finding a proper punishment for the rule-breakers,” Subong’s nurse says, spinning around in his chair to face a desk instead of his colleague. Hairclip stairs at the back of her head. 

“Punishment?” Hairclip echoes. Subong’s nurse sighs, his posture drooping.

”You know what I mean. A new plan to make sure they aren’t able to pull something like this again,” He says, clearly done with the conversation.

Virtually anything Hairclip had been hoping to learn had gone out the window the moment she realized she knew more than he did. And she was going to need to think long and hard about whether it is smart to bring it all up to this visiting doctor or anybody else involved in the case. This doctor, the one down the hall speaking to Subong, apparently was inside the place when Subong was hurt. Apparently he’s the person who worked the magic that made Subong present and alive today. He, if anybody, would certainly be able to confirm if the place of injury was indeed an island. A secret island wherein a gambling/kill ring was operating and stealing away hundreds of struggling people. 

Perhaps, after he is finished with Subong’s checkup, Hairclip can pull him into another quiet room and ask him a couple of questions.

Maybe, being a doctor and all, he will be more willing to give away information about the kidnapping. The games, she should say. Hairclip would hope, having been there himself and likely seen what had happened, the doctor would be eager to get the story out there. 

She leaves the room then, and heads down to see firstly if her own patient is finished with his checkup. The doctor— their doctor, the one that usually handles the ward—  is just standing up to leave, it seems. He spots her as she opens the door and waves shortly to Namgyu, who looks more bummed than he usually does. Which is saying something. Because he usually looks quite bummed. 

“Concussion?” Hairclip asks. And her question is answered with twin nods from the doctor and Namgyu. Namgyu winces and brings a frantic two fingers to the dips above his eyebrows, pressing and rubbing small circles into his skull. 

“He’ll have to be extra careful for the next couple weeks, but it’s just grade 1. No loss of consciousness according to him,” The doctor says. “I’ll provide you with more detailed papers later today.”

And with a polite nod, he leaves the room. The nurse shifts her gaze back over to Namgyu, who still angrily rubs at his head. Shifting the spot of interest to the sides, his temples and the area behind his ears.

”Sounds like you’re going to be watched very closely for the next little while. You and Subong both,” Hairclip says. And she knows it's not a helpful thing to say at the moment, but she wants Namgyu to be prepared for even more isolated days. “I plan to speak to your officers and some others about what you’ve told me today.”

Namgyu’s head shoots up to meet her eyes, instantly causing him to squeeze his own shut and groan in pain. 

“You mean to tell them I’m bullshitting you? Get me stuck in here for even longer?” Namgyu accuses.

“Why on earth would I do that?” Hairclip asks, gently. “I told you I believe you. I want yours and Subong’s.. and Minsu’s stories to be told.”

”I don’t care about that,” Namgyu says.

“We’ve already been through this, but you can continue to think that way if it makes you feel stronger. I’m going to take you back to your room now, okay?” She gestures for him to stand up so they can do as she says. 

And they do. Unfortunately, according to today’s rules following the escape attempt of the previous night, she has to hold Namgyu’s wrists behind him like a prisoner while they walk. She doesn’t feel comfortable doing it, and she knows all it does is embarrass the patient, but they reach his room quickly and she lets him have his limbs back. The room looks darker and quieter than usual, if possible. And Namgyu looks deeply sorrowful, a sour change from the shocking positivity of the previous day. The giggly clinginess with his inpatient friend— now gone. Rotting on the roof in the sun, maybe. Left there to shrivel and deteriorate while Subong and Namgyu are split apart in the confines of their pink chambers. 

He slowly goes to sit on the edge of the bed, a shadow, a hollow tree. His eyes remain nearly shut squinting in pain all the way there, and he sighs a little with the relief of stillness. The nurse bids him goodbye for now, and tells him she will return to escort him for washing up in a little bit. Breakfast will follow, she tells him. Although she’s not certain where he will eat it. In the quiet room again? Or strictly commanded to stay in this tiny bedroom for the foreseeable future? A result of his unhappiness, more unhappiness. How does that work? Better: how does it help? 

The nurse understands that people are scared. Staff members have been startled by the risky situation. The thought of two patients up on the roof in the dead of night, it is not a pretty thought. But the both of them, trapped up for the remainder of their stay, like criminals.. wrongdoers. It’s an even uglier thought, she thinks. Especially when accompanied by the strange lightness that had clung to them yesterday. This giddiness that came with being together, it had twirled up inside of them and driven them to pull this risky activity. 

She thinks there is improvement to be had in the area of eagerness to heal and acceptance of their surroundings, but it may well be possible for them to do it together. She thinks, however disobedient, the trip to the roof is a sign of willingness to carry on. It is proof that both of them want to go on, want to get better, get out and live. They don’t wish to simply get out and find a different way to destroy themselves. She’s sure of it. They seeked out a wonder of life, moonlight on a pretty night, something they can experience every night in the open world that awaits them, once they have finished in here. The moon will not be gone when they are done healing, and it will not be angry if they do not visit for a few nights.  

She turns and leaves Namgyu, triple checking that his door has locked properly. She will go speak to the visiting doctor now. The man who saved Subong’s life in the midst of ‘the games’. Surely a fascinating conversation is coming. 

Chapter Text

The doctor has never experienced anything quite like the games, and more than likely never ever will again. 

Dimly lit drug busts, unlicensed casinos, none of it compared to his time on the island.

Nothing about it was all that different from any island, he would say. It was as sandy, as green, as blue as any piece of land in the ocean. The only thing that appeared to be out of sorts during the approach, was the wind. Hiking up short rocky scrambles up into well-treaded forest trails, it had felt like something of a vacation for the first few hours. Everything mostly the same as any popular beach spot. But, the wind had picked up, pushing them along in their strange pink suits, the fabric whipping against their torsos. Small bits of greenery jutting out and slicing into calves with the big gusts of wind. The wind had been eerie, loud, overwhelming. It had stolen away the strange almost excited feeling he had had upon arrival. The feeling of being apart of something so important. Something big, something that matters.

One could not describe truly or effectively the level of disbelief there had been in the briefing rooms. How many officers had needed repeats of certain aspects of the mission, new explanations, more details. Anything to make it feel real. But it really hadn’t been. Not until the moment the wind started picking up on that island. Darting between trees and rushing into their faces. As if, almost as if it wanted to keep them out. Push them away. You don’t want to see it, it would tell them. Howl at them. You don’t want to know what’s happening here. You don’t understand what you’re getting into, the wind would tell them- if it could.

But it didn’t, and they were well aware of their goals. They had entered then, through a covered door, a hatch that one would usually see leading to a cellar. It had been hidden by vines and shrubbery, but in one large swipe, all of it moved aside like one entity. Welcome, it would say, as they hauled the heavy metal door open and stepped down an endless set of stairs.

Immediately unsettling were the colours of the place. They had been warned about strange paint jobs, strange layouts, long twisty corridors, angular architecture that seemed troublesome and unnecessary. Artsy, maybe. And once they got deep enough to begin hearing the intercom messages to the soldiers, the ones they were meant to be roleplaying as— the true horror settled in.  

They had had no time to try to understand any of it. When they arrived, there was already something huge happening. Referred to as a game, but not taking place in any such specially designated arena. Under no proper, official announcement to the players, the bathroom fight took place. Tens of men brutally assaulting each other with bare fists and various chunks of the washroom. One man, whacked over the back with a door. And Subong, poor Subong. Gushing blood in an instant, delivered to the doctor in a black coffin-like box, as though already dead. 

He had been just about there, in all fairness. A moment from it, even. A few more breaths without those wounds properly occluded, maybe. 

The doctor had seen many a trauma scene, dealt with them hands on for over twenty years. He wouldn’t have been selected to work a mission like this if he didn't have such experience. But.. there is a different feeling saving a life dressed up and sneaking around in tiny secret tunnels, Saving Subong, it was a moment in the doctor’s life that would not soon leave him. 

The dusty cavernous pathways that ran alongside the main hallways used by guards, maintenance spaces no doubt. They held the better number of nearly dead players. Like men in the trenches, they were all hunched over an injured person, some of them too hurt to save. All so close to each other, packed like sardines in this narrow pitch black walkway. It could not be compared to anything else. The doctor had been rendered a war medic. An undercover war medic, at that. The doctor will never forget Subong’s dizzy, incoherent murmurs. Gurgling and wet through a bloody throat and a tear drenched face. The doctor hadn’t been sure that they had got him out fast enough. And, the doctor hadn’t seen Subong open his eyes or regain full consciousness the entire time they were there. 

Even on the boat back to the mainland, although stable, Subong hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken. Even the small senseless mumbles of consonants had disappeared. Leaving behind a stained body, wrapped at the neck, with bloody knuckles and fear frozen on his sleeping face. 

The doctor remembers each game they were there to witness, with a heavy heart. The bathroom fight had only been the beginning. After that, in the midst of his work to save Subong, there had been an uprising staged by the players. It failed, perhaps only because the doctor’s agency hadn’t seen it coming. If they had been prepared to help, posed in the right sections of hallway, he thinks they could have supported them and successfully taken it down. Could have saved everybody who died afterwards in hide and seek. Unfortunately, they were not in the right places to provide aid. The shootout was too risky to jump into without proper planning, and as a result, many players died on the pink steps. 

They had found a control room relatively early on in the attempted revolution. The undercover agents all using the opportunity of the guards leaving their stations to go and explore other areas. They took over a room full of tvs, hundreds of cameras showing off what exactly had been going on. The doctor remembers his hands shaking upon Subong’s bandages as his eyes locked on one of many screens. Watching as they rallied, one player in particular showing the rest of them how to use the guns. Then, bullets flying. Bodies dropping. 

The doctor had been glad that his colleagues acting as bouncers to this particular control room were so convincing. When the revolt was suffocated, the real guards came running back over to return to duties. The doctor had been certain that they would enter guns blazing, seeing the evidence of their operation being discovered and infiltrated. Injured players thought dead a day ago being treated on the black tiles of the fancy tv room. But they had successfully stolen the highest priority square masks, mimicking this authority and telling off the guards for ‘misunderstanding’ their orders. They had kept that room sealed for the remainder of their time inside. Witnessing every atrocity from a million different angles, all while tending to the severely wounded.

A third of them occupied this room, the rest unfortunately staying in the trench-like maintenance tunnels. And a select few, marching alongside the real guards and preparing for the moment they would turn and end it all. Over the few days they were inside this wretched place, they worked to take out as many guards as they could, and save as many players. They did this until it was clear that they outnumbered the working guards. Many pink-suited soldiers ended up tied and gagged in the maintenance hallways, watching as doctors worked to save the people they shot. 

The doctor had never had such consistently high nerves. Even though he was relatively safe in the confines of a locked and guarded room, it was as if there was a gun poking the side of his head at all times. There was no time to think about himself in any way. He had to focus solely on Subong, and on aiding his fellow paramedics every now and then when their patients needed it. It was constant fear, and the screens only kept them updated on what the rest of their team was doing. Or rather, what they weren’t. 

For a long while, with Subong laying out on the ground, it had felt hopeless. Watching the players slaughtering each other in that maze game. And then, the horror that had fallen over all of them when they saw the long drop beneath the jump rope game. It was then that they were told they finally had the upper hand. They had left the control room just as that game began, and the doctor could only hope and pray that they would successfully shut it down as they made their way through the hallways to the prepared exit. Hauling the dead and the injured outside to a ship, only able to wish the best for their front line colleagues. The wind had been almost angrier on the way out, punishing and scraping at their dry skin.

The nighttime allowed them to see the lights of the ship poking through the forest, a long line of bloodied men, numbered jumpsuits and ridiculous pink suits. The gunfire of the takedown a distant muffled rumble far beneath them. The doctor prayed to every god he knew the name of, that night. As he placed Subong, finally, on a proper stretcher, and rolled him up the ramp onto the ship. He prayed that the players they rescued would make it, and he prayed that his friends inside would be successful. 

When they arrived on the mainland, the doctor had been forced to hand off Subong to a new team of medical professionals that would zip him off to the nearest hospital. For some reason, although they had shared no words, and although the doctor desperately needed water and rest himself, it was incredibly hard to let Subong go. It was incredibly difficult not to jump in the back of that ambulance and accompany him to the next step. He had watched as the last patch of purple disappeared as the ambulance doors closed and the vehicle took off. 

Now, finally, four days later, he is to meet with a conscious Subong. 

“Thankyou so much for coming, doctor,” The head nurse greets him, upon entering. They shake hands through the open space beneath the glass pane separating them. The nurse stands up and moves to circle around the welcome desk to face him. “We’re very grateful that you were able to make it. I’m sure you’ve been very busy what with the.. the uh. Well it sounds very complicated. To tell you the truth, we don’t know much.” 

“Mm,” The doctor hums, with a confirming nod. “It is very complicated. I’m sure you understand it’s been a tough few days. I’ve been eager to see Subong, though.”

”Is that so?” The head nurse raises a brow. “I can empathize. I love to see how my patients are doing after they’ve been discharged.”

”The last time I saw him it was.. not looking good. I’m very relieved that he is up and moving and somewhat well. What he went through is.. unimaginable,” The doctor says. “I’m delighted that he is in such good hands.” 

“You’ll have to excuse the air of chaos here today, doctor,” The nurse rubs the back of his neck. “Last night Subong and another patient were caught sneaking up to the roof. We’re just.. dealing with upping our security.”

”Oh.. that’s.. they’re both okay?” The doctor asks. 

“They’re fine. They’ve just been a little bit.. difficult. They’re having trouble adjusting to the smaller freedoms here.” The nurse responds, looking a little ashamed. 

“That. Makes sense. The place I rescued Subong from had no freedoms. I’m sure he’s thoroughly looking forward to getting out into the world again,” The doctor says.  

“It’s for their own safety, of course,” The nurse says, almost in a tone that sounds argumentative. The doctor decides he should just skip to what he came here for.

“May I have Subong’s papers?” He requests, to which the nurse quickly circles back around the desk to rummage through a drawer full of file separators. He comes up with a stapled booklet of information, Subong’s pained face captured in the top left corner of the first page- just as the doctor remembers him. 

The short walk to the checkup room is full of strange and familiar feelings. The pink hallways do not cooperate with the unkind memories of the games. Even as somebody who had only witnessed their cruelty, the doctor feels cold sweats begin at the reminder of that horrible place. Those horrible people. 

He opens the door to the checkup room, and he is greeted by a short wave from the patient. His purple hair looks cleaner, soft tufts positioned sleepily in all directions. It also appears brighter in the warm lighting of the hospital, instead of the dim flickering buzz of the control room tv screens. Subong wears another matching set, but one much less sinister than the one he had met him with. The patient pyjamas appear to be comfortable and light. The slippers swing back and forth with Subong’s legs as he relaxes in his place on the edge of the cushioned bench. Best of all, his eyes are big and bright. They shine with liveliness instead of fever, his skin is soft and pink. He looks alive. He has a small smile on his face. 

There is an undeniable surge of relief that warms the better part of the doctor’s head. It drains down into his shoulders and trickles down through his limbs. 

“Subong, hello,” The doctor greets, softly. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you.”  

Subong tilts his head a little, and then seems to recall who he was told he would be meeting. He brings a small notepad into his lap, it had been sitting on the bench beside him, unnoticed. The doctor watches as Subong pops the cap off of a thick marker, and begins to write. 

The doctor comes closer, letting the door fall shut behind him. He peers at Subong’s notepad as the patient turns it around for him.

”Are you the doctor that saved me?” He reads out loud, for Subong. He quickly nods. 

“Yes. I was there in the games as part of a team of agents,” The doctor confirms, watching as Subong scribbles out a ‘Thankyou’ for him. 

“Of course. Of course, Subong. I want to extend to you my deepest sympathy for what you went through. Never in my life have I seen a place like that,” The doctor says. Subong looks as though there may be a disturbance beneath the hardened exterior, but his expression remains somewhat light. “I am truly grateful to see you alive and well. Along with everybody else who we managed to save.”

’I’m glad you made it out too, doctor’ Subong writes, messily. And however touching, the doctor is mostly concerned now at the elephant in the room.

“So, you haven’t been using your voice. That was probably the right way to go,” The doctor begins, clearing his throat after the short words. Subong nods, and sets the notepad down on his knees. “Allow me to take a short look at your injuries. I was informed that a different doctor that works here checked them over for you yesterday, yes?” 

Subong nods, as the doctor comes closer and reaches out for his bandages. 

“Just because I was there to treat them on the island, I think I’ll have a better impression of the progress you’ve made. You may very well be cleared to speak again,” The doctor says, careful not to sound too eager. He wouldn’t want to get Subong’s hopes up. It seems as though it happens anyway, since Subong’s expression grows brighter. 

“So, I hear you caused some trouble this past night,” The doctor says, as he removes the dressings. “Can’t say I blame you. I don’t think a place like this must feel right for you right now.” 

Subong can't really reply, but he purses his lips and shrugs, careful not to get in the doctor’s way.

“Even I feel uncomfortable with these colourful walls,” The doctor takes a glance away from the patient’s neck to peer at the pink paint visible through the window on the door. Subong shivers, and the doctor feels it through where his fingertips touch the bandages. “And I was not subjected to playing those evil games. It is a miracle you are holding up as well as you are.”

Subong shrugs again. The bandages are removed. The wounds look.. much better than the doctor had been expecting.

”Wow,” He can’t help but breathe. “It’s almost like you’ve got something looking out for you. Something, somebody, I don't know. Or.. some reason to stay here. Your healing is amazing.” 

‘do doctors normally get all superstitious like that?’ Subong writes, and the doctor listens to the brushing sounds of the marker moving against the paper inbetween them. 

“Maybe not. But I’d say if you’ve ever thought twice about carrying on, this is a sign. I’ve never seen stab wounds so severe heal so elegantly, so quickly,” The doctor tells him. Subong does not write again, but there is a relief in his muscles that is easy to see up close. A tension the doctor hadn’t noticed was there, releases. ”I’d say you’re on a perfect track to good health. I hope this hospital is treating your mental scars as well as your physical ones.”

Subong shrugs.

“Has it been less than ideal?” The doctor asks, as he moves his head around to see different angles of the closing wounds. Subong shrugs again.

”I can’t imagine it was any fun to come down from whatever you were on. I don’t suppose the drugs you took helped block out any bad memories?” The doctor asks, although it is really not his place. In an attempt to offer a relatable and comfortable atmosphere, he speaks again. “I myself have been struggling with the imagery I witnessed on the island. I have had frequent nightmares.”  

Subong writes again. The doctor glances down to read it. Subong spins the notebook around so that the words are not upside down.

’I see the games in everything’ Subong has written.

The doctor sighs.

”Yes, that's not surprising. The place you were kept was very distinct. I think it would be hard for anybody to expel it from their mind at all. Let alone only a few days out from the experience,” The doctor says. “Have you found it effective to be living on a strict schedule? Does it feel too much like the games?” 

Subong thinks for a moment, before writing again.

’I hadn’t thought about it like that’ He writes. Then, writes again. ‘In my outside life I usually have no schedule at all. So the days here blend together with the days in the games’

”It’s all one big experience, I should think,” The doctor concludes, his chest aching. Maybe sending Subong to a place like this— sending any player to a place like this right after being extracted— should have been more thoroughly evaluated. ”I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Subong shrugs for the umpteenth time, and writes again. 

‘No guns here’ He writes. ‘And better food’ 

“That’s good,” The doctor says. “Has any part of being here felt effective in helping you find a better headspace, do you think?” 

Subong seems to consider that for a long time before he writes again. 

‘It’s nice being with Namgyu. we have talked a lot about the games. feels freeing’ 

“Namgyu.. That’s.. another player?” The doctor asks, backing away from Subong’s neck for a second to meet his eyes. Subong nods. “They sent more than just you here?” 

‘3 of us here’ Subong informs him. Hm..

“Okay. Just until the end of this week? Then they will help you readjust to regular life?” The doctor asks, although these are really more likely questions for the staff here. Subong looks a little disgruntled by this particular line of questioning.

’Maybe not now. fucked it up by sneaking around’ Subong writes, and the words on the paper look angry, somehow.

”I see,” The doctor says. “However long you’re here, try to make the most of it. I’m sure it will fly by if you continue to find closeness and freedom in conversation with your peers.”

’prob can’t see him anymore’ Subong writes. And it's shaky this time, and the doctor realizes quickly that the hard exterior has almost completely dropped. His chest aches harder, a burning feeling in the crook of his neck. ‘Fucked that up too’

”Do the staff here know how therapeutic it has been for you to have conversations with… what was his name?” The doctor pauses to ask. Subong writes it. “Right yes. Namgyu. Are they aware of how much it's helping you? I doubt they’d take that away if they knew.”

Subong shrugs. 

“If you’d like, Subong, I can let them know. I can tell them that in my professional opinion it would be healthy for you to continue to converse with someone who shares your trauma,” The doctor offers. Subong’s hands shake where he holds the marker and notepad. Just slightly. Anybody else may not see it, but the doctor does. 

“You’re good friends?” The doctor asks, when it is clear Subong is making no move to reply yes or no to his offer. Subong nods. “Then I’m sure you’re wanting to see each other in the outside world, yes?” 

‘We’ve talked about that yeah’ Subong writes. The letter remain shaky, but the fact that the words are there at all is good enough for the doctor. 

”So then. We should tell the staff here: what good would it be to keep you apart if you intend to spend time together after you are both discharged,” The doctor suggests. 

“Most of the staff here would probably tell you that it will do them good because some friendships are counterproductive during the healing process,” A new voice utters, from behind the doctor.

The doctor whips around, embarrassed that he had not heard the door. And embarrassed that he had been speaking down on the capabilities of the staff of this hospital with one of their patients. Out of concern, sure. Probably doesn’t make it okay. But none of the staff here saw Subong when he was nearly lifeless in the dark maintenance hallways. When he had red trails dried crispy all the way down from his mouth and neck to his torso. Blood soaked sweatsuit, sweat drenched hair, pallid skin. 

The nurse standing there doesn’t appear to be angry however. She stands with her arms crossed over her chest, but her expression is loose and— if anything— worried. She has a bright hairclip keeping some strands that must be too short for the ponytail out of her face. Before the doctor can explain himself, she opens her mouth to speak again. 

“They would say,” She goes on, leaning against the door, latching it shut again. “That a bond that may make one happy, isn’t necessarily a bond that is effective during recovery. Some may even say friendships like the one between Subong and Namgyu, can be enabling.” 

The doctor sees Subong’s eyes dart between himself and the nurse for a second or two while the words settle in the air. 

“And what would you say?” The doctor prompts. 

“I would say that my patient Namgyu had never seemed so hopeful and excited about life than he did with his friend Subong,” The nurse says. 

The doctor nods, thankful for her contribution to the conversation. The words hang in the room as the doctor returns to looking over Subong’s neck. And he notices that Subong looks pinker than before, livelier than before, if at all possible. Perhaps touched by the prospect of his friend valuing him just as much as Subong values his friend. 

The doctor can’t help but compare it to the many many lengthy discussions he has had with his fellow agents over the course of the last few days. He isn’t sure he’d have been able to go on this long without speaking about his experience infiltrating the games with somebody else who had been there. How Subong could ever be expected to heal without anybody to relate to, anybody who understands, who believes him fully 100% of the time— the doctor doesn’t know. 

He’s glad to know that there are staff members that see the strength in all of that. Clearly this nurse doesn’t want her patient to be split up from Subong just for some nighttime exploration. Surely, given that both of them are grown men, there should be some compromise. As far as the doctor is aware, it is not as though either of them had bad intentions. They were simply getting some fresh air, and perhaps attempting to deviate from the tight schedule that comes with inpatient life. Could one possibly be punished for feeling antsy after being kidnapped and held for several days? 

“Would you like to have a chat after I’m done here? We’re just finishing up,” The doctor tells the nurse. He gestures to Subong’s undressed neck wounds. She nods politely and exits the room. 

“I’d say you shouldn’t worry about being apart from your friend, Subong,” The doctor says, as he prepares the new bandages. “Everybody here wants you to feel better. And if your friendship helps achieve that, it would be senseless to block it off.”

As the new bandages are applied, the doctor notes that Subong’s face looks especially pink now, and his eyes look far off- as though he is completely gone in his own head. An expression the doctor is used to seeing on his daydreaming children. The doctor tries very hard not to let his mind interrupt such a nice expression on his patient’s face with that he harboured in the games. 

“In other news,” The doctor says, as he finally steps back from Subong’s neck. Subong rolls his head around a little and rubs at the spot between his jaw and his ear, feeling out the ache of holding his neck at a specific angle for the doctor to tend to it. “You should be alright to start speaking out loud now. Any irritation it could cause at this point would be the same as eating or drinking. It’s simply not worth restricting now when your injuries are in such a good state.”

Subong’s face glows, like he has just won the lottery.

’Now be careful, it may be painful the first little while,” The doctor warns him, as he opens his mouth.

“Thank you,” Subong says, his voice brutally rough. And as painful as it sounds and appears, Subong still looks to be at the precipice of positivity. The summit of all hope and goodness. The doctor feels a dim flame of pride light in his chest. He had saved this man. 

The games feel like nothing but a distant memory, in this moment. Watching the joy rise on Subong’s face, both of his hands feeling at his neck as he hums, the vibrations no doubt feeling strange after so many days of silence. 

The doctor bids him farewell for now, and wishes him the best in the rest of his recovery, and his future. He also tells him that if he wishes to contact the doctor in the future, he will leave his information with the staff of the ward so that they may provide it to Subong at the end of his stay. Whenever that may be. Hopefully soon. 

Putting himself in Subong’s shoes, a victim of a horrific mass kidnapping. Thrown into a space full of other scared people, forced to hurt each other, fight each other, risk their lives. And then, mortally injured, and boated off to a hospital only to be placed in another privacy lacking environment. Granted, a place that is intended to do quite the opposite of killing people. But a place with beds right next to each other, colourful walls, a strict schedule, no less. A place that feels too eerily similar to the games, as horrific as that could sound. As much of a reach as it feels to even think it. 

The doctor just thinks.. If he were Subong. If he were one of the victims of the games. He would not have wanted to wind up here. The doctor isn’t particularly impressed with this care plan. If anything, according to how Subong looked at it, it just feels like an extension of the traumatic events. Dragging it on further. The normalcy of life is gone in a place like this, and the regular beauties of the outside world are not here to call you down to earth. They are not present here to allow you to find your strength again. It is only small rooms, sharp clinical terminology, and maybe a good friend if you’re lucky. They shouldn’t take away the good friend. The good friend who has been through much the same as Subong. 

The doctor leaves the room, accompanied by the shaky notes of Subong’s excited humming. It’s a song the doctor doesn’t recognize, but it is nice to hear nonetheless, rough and gravelly as it is. 

The nurse with the hairclip awaits, leaning against the pink wall of the hallway just as she had done to the door inside the checkup room. Before he moves to greet her again, Subong’s personal nurse comes marching down the hall. 

“Thanks again for coming to do this,” Subong’s nurse says, his eyes looking tired. More tired than they had when they had met at the welcome desk. “Can I ask if it looks like he should be speaking again soon?” 

“Today, right now,” The doctor tells him, happily. “His injuries are looking fantastic. It’s mindblowing, actually. Just how well they’ve healed in this amount of time.” 

Both Subong’s nurse and the nurse with the hairclip look positively surprised by this information. Subong’s nurse even takes a weak step backwards, more of a stumble maybe, and a huffy sigh of relief. 

”Wow that’s.. that’s great! I know it was getting frustrating for him to have to always write his thoughts,” Subong’s nurse says. “I think this will definitely have a positive impact on the next few days.”

“Speaking of, is there a discharge date decided yet for him?” The doctor decides he may ask since the opportunity has presented itself. The relief on Subong’s nurse’s face immediately disappears, and it is replaced with a visceral discomfort that the doctor can feel radiating off of him and infecting himself. 

“I’m.. i’m afraid not, doctor,” Subong’s nurse stammers. “It was in the original care plan for all three victims of the situation you tended to— uh- for them to all be discharged after seven days of treatment. We can only assume that their assigned officers will wish for an extension what with the recent behaviour.”

”Namgyu is-“ The nurse with the hairclip chimes in, but she is instantaneously cut off by Subong’s nurse.

“Right right. Subong’s friend Namgyu, another person rescued from the same scene— are you familiar?” Subong’s nurse pauses to ask the doctor this. To which the doctor shakes his head. He can picture a man with long black hair having been at Subong’s side during the bathroom fight. The same man got hit over the back with a stall door, if the doctor recalls correctly. If it is that man, then the doctor supposes he is familiar. But not the.. not the ‘save your life in a hidden tunnel whilst a gunfight occurs’ type of familiar. The doctor shakes his head.

”I was solely focused on saving Subong during my time inside,” The doctor says. And he has to choke on his own tongue not to say ‘on the island’ instead of ‘inside.’ But he succeeds, and he only catches a slight glint in the eyes of the hairclip nurse. The hand holding her bicep in the crossed arms pose squeezes visibly at her scrubs, pulling the material downwards tightly. 

“Ah well- Namgyu. He has been acting up since the first day. His officer already swung by for a check in and apparently his mother even signed for his stay to be extended,” Subong’s nurse continues. “But really we’re running it by ear. If it seems like they’re ready to leave, of course they would leave.”

”Does Subong have family checking in?” The doctor questions.

”Unfortunately we have not been able to contact anybody for him yet. But I’d imagine when we do, the same thing will happen. Namgyu’s mother said she trusted our professional opinions,” Subong’s nurse says. The nurse with the hairclip shifts, her expression growing grim. 

“That’s distant mom language for: I couldn’t care less,” The hairclip nurse says. The doctor purses his lips and doesn’t involve himself. 

“It’s better for us,” Subong’s nurse says. “Because we have the ability to both keep him here if we deem it necessary, and discharge him under the same criteria. We’re not relying on the biases of family and friends.” 

“You don’t suppose we can be a little biased sometimes too?” Hairclip nurse interjects. And.. the doctor senses some hostility here between these two. He certainly hadn’t meant to light a fire like this. It was only a simple question.

“Are you implying that I would purposely keep him here because he has been troublesome?” Subong’s nurse asks, fully turning now to face the nurse with the hair clip. It’s like the doctor isn’t even here. “Not only is that insulting my morality, it doesn’t make any sense. If he's so much trouble, surely I would want him out of here.”

”I didn’t say any of that,” Hairclip nurse snaps back.

”You were thinking it,” Subong’s nurse accuses, through gritted teeth. 

“I just want to give them their best shot at being healthy and happy..” Hairclip nurse says.

”See- the implication there is that- you’re saying that I don’t also want that!” Subong’s nurse says, gesturing wildly with his hands. “Where is this coming from?!”

“Y…you’re both doing your uh.. doing your best..” The doctor interrupts, tiredly. They both snap out of the argument then, their heads shooting over to the side to face him again. It would be frightening if it hadn’t been so damn stupid. 

These people are passionate, that much is clear. But they truly have no clue where Subong and this ’Namgyu’ have come from. And whichever third player happened to be placed here, according to Subong. The doctor is sure that as soon as the squid game story hits the news stations, these nurses will be even more passionate than before. 

“I should. I’m gonna..” Subong’s nurse points to the checkup room Subong is probably still humming away in. And he shuffles past the doctor with an adequate amount of shame. “Thanks again for coming, doctor. just drop the forms off at the welcome desk.”

And with that, Subong’s nurse disappears into the checkup room to join his patient. Both the doctor and the nurse wearing the hairclip are greeted briefly by a flash of Subong’s light laughter interrupting his humming as the door opens and closes. The sound effectively muffles out as soon as it latches shut. 

“Shall we have a quick chat?” The doctor says, turning to the nurse with the hairclip.

”Ah.. yeah. If you still have time, I would greatly appreciate it,” She responds, with a deep bow. 

“It’s no problem at all. I’m on no tight schedule,” The doctor says. And he falls into step alongside this nurse after she gestures for him to follow. They make their way towards a free meeting room. And, whilst out in the somewhat busy hallways of the ward, they keep their conversation hushed. “At the moment I am on a recovery leave.”

“From..?” The nurse tilts her head, the light flashing down on the large hairclip. 

“Well, missions like the one I rescued Subong on. They wouldn’t send me out again after such a large one,” The doctor explains, in simple terms. He wouldn’t be using any agency names or anything like that. “We need time to collect ourselves. It was truly the most horrific experience of my life. I doubt any paramedic work I do in the future will ever be even remotely as haunting as what I saw there. What Subong went through.” 

“The island?” The nurse asks, hushed. And, the doctor can’t help but momentarily falter in his footsteps. Like a toddler who had taken a break to crawl again for a bit, he feels like he may well have forgotten how to walk. He turns to face the nurse. 

“They told you more than I thought,” He admits to her. “My team was not to specify location or.. many specifics at all actually— to any medical staff on the outside of the operation.”

”Operation?” She repeats, practically only a whisper. 

“Well.. yes. The infiltration. Just like any kidnapping,” The doctor says, attempting to backpedal a little bit. “We had to breach the compound where they were being held.”

”Right,” The nurse says. “I don’t know anything from your team. Everything I know is straight from my patient, Namgyu.” 

”Ah..” The doctor nods, as they continue walking, although he feels shaken up at the prospect of there being such sensitive information on the lips of random hospital workers. Who else already knows of the island? Who has she told about this? Will somebody be going to the news before the agency does? Somebody curious and concerned? 

The last thing they need is some sort of scandal about how this is all being handled. The victims need to be prioritized. And part of the victims’ wellbeing is putting their perpetrators behind bars. That can’t happen quickly if the situation is complicated by civilian investigations and publicity efforts. 

“Can I ask.. is Namgyu the one with the long black hair?” The doctor questions. “I think I did spot him briefly at the scene.”

”Yes yes that's him,” The nurse responds, her fists clenched at her sides as they walk.

”And how is he doing,” The doctor asks, as the nurse slows to a stop in front of a meeting room. She then unlocks the door and opens it for him. He steps in first and moves to a central table, where he pulls out a chair.

”Well. He’s doing well. It depends who you ask, but I think he’s doing well,” Hairclip informs him. Which, is nice to know, despite not really having seen much of Namgyu. It is a blessing to know that anybody who took part in those games is doing well. “Especially since spending time with Subong. They seem to be very close.”

”I’m with you on keeping them together. I believe it’s extraordinarily important to maintain that one consistency in their lives. Troublesome pair or not,” The doctor tells her. She nods, and sighs. ”I’d also like to point out that Subong may relax a bit now that he can speak. Sometimes when we’re dealing with one thing health-wise, all of that pent up frustration and energy charges out in your behaviour. Now that he can express himself as he always has, you may notice that the ‘rule-breaking’ stops.”

”As long as they don’t hurt themselves again, I don’t care what rules they break,” Hairclip tells him, maybe a little too honestly, as she takes a seat across from him. “I mean- I care. But this is about them getting better. If that bit of fresh air they had together last night has them in a better headspace to take on their futures? How can I possibly be angry about that?” 

“Mm,” The doctor nods.

”Of course I wish they had just gone to the gardens.. where there isn’t a lethal fall waiting at every edge. But, I don't think they had any intention to take that one step shortcut to the lobby,” Hairclip says. “From what I’ve picked up, they just went up there to talk with some privacy.”

”You’d be surprised how much that was lacking on the island,” The doctor tells her. hairclip’s head shoots up, the curiosity is there— but there is a glaze of concern over all of it. “Think big room full of quadruple bunk beds stacked up to the ceilings. Shared restrooms, extremely narrow hallways. There was no chance to be alone at all. They were at all times surrounded by other struggling people.” 

“Just like here..” Hairclip says.

”If you want to look at it that way, yes,” The doctor shrugs. “But. Here their time is divvied out to various therapy activities and self-care. On the island, every hour of the day was scheduled around their potential demise in a series of games. You’re aware of the games?”

The nurse nods.

”While, because of its similarities, I wouldn't say this is the ideal place to send survivors of this particular tragedy— the overall goal here is obviously very different. I’m sure your new patients have been able to differentiate a place of capture from a place of healing,” The doctor says. 

Is silent for almost a full minute as the nurse processes this. The doctor wonders what the games might look like in her imagination. He doubts anybody could cook up the real imagery with such vague descriptions. She has no idea just how much of a maze it was to travel through that facility, colours everywhere and staircases fit only for trained firemen. Long halls and tight squeezes, and then vast open arenas stained with the blood of hundreds of suffering individuals with dreams and hopes. The doctor wonders if the bedroom looks warm in the nurse’s mind, or if she supposes correctly that the room full of bunk beds had been cold and suffocating. 

“Can I ask.. I have been concerned that,” Hairclip pauses, looking unsure of herself. “I don’t know how to word this.” 

“Go on. I’m not here to attack you for wanting the best for your patients. I know some of the officers can be aggressive, but it's because they are equally as uninformed,” The doctor tells her. 

“That’s what I was going to ask about,” Hairclip says. “I’ve become worried that maybe uhm. Are my patients’ firsthand recounts being taken into consideration for… for whatever court case you all are working on?” 

“You’re saying you think they were put here to shut them up?” The doctor asks, not unkindly. The nurse looks embarrassed, but she nods her head yes.

”Don’t worry. Namgyu and Subong are not the sole survivors of the games. There are actually plenty of victims that are already back to somewhat regular lives. There are support groups organized outside for them, and they are not being held back under any kind of NDA,” The doctor rambles, to soothe her worries. Hairclip seems to physically deflate with the relief, sinking down into her chair. “There are plenty of other victims on the outside already rallying for the story to be brought forward. From what I know, since obviously I’m not on the legal team, there are a lot of stray threads to wrangle.”

The doctor continues.

”But as soon as everything is in order, the story will be made public and the case to send all of the perpetrators to prison will be under way. I believe right now they’re still trying to figure out if there is somebody heading the whole thing,” The doctor tells her. “Even if the government wanted to cover it up, there are simply too many victims to do it effectively. And in this day and age, when getting the word out is as simple as owning a cell phone, it would be virtually impossible to muffle these victims’ voices.”

”So.. you’re certain? You’re certain that this is being taken seriously?” The nurse asks, as if he hadn’t said enough. But he appreciates the passion and the determination. If he were in her shoes, he would want double confirmation as well. For the sake of Subong, he even thinks he may ask around the agency later today to see if anybody knows where they’re at with the case. 

“I’m certain. I’ve worked under the department head of my agency since I was in my early twenties, and I trust her fully and completely to make sure none of this can possibly be forgotten about. Everything we deal with gets sent to the media eventually, but they have to make sure they have all the right people in custody first,” The doctor says.  

Hairclip brings a shaky hand up to the .. clip in her hair, and removes it. She runs a few fingers through the hair there and sighs again, even more relieved than before. She then clips it back in the same place and slaps both hands onto her knees.

”Thank you so much,” She tells him. “I just.. I needed to know. It was killing me to think I may be part of some.. coverup.” 

”It’s nothing. I admire the passion you have about the issue despite not having been there. As somebody who saw it all unfold, I feel the same way about wanting it all to go public,” The doctor says. 

“That reminds me.. I should say,” The nurse says, as she stands up. “I wish you the best in your recovery. I don’t think seeing all of that would have been easy.” 

The doctor pictures Subong’s pale face, his twitching fingers, the blood draining out of him so fast. The flashing tv screens in the control room, showing the angled surveillance images of the starry-night like maze. The knives in the players’ hands, gleaming as they approached a shaking blue-vest. The chilling monotone commands of the soldiers over the intercom, the distant rumble of footsteps marching in sync, the rattle of their guns. Looking back down at Subong’s face, his hair looking duller somehow. His eyes looser, less controlled somehow, looking deader than a minute before, somehow. No, it had not been easy.  

Chapter Text

If Minsu has counted correctly, this is day four. Not counting the arrival day, since it had only really been an afternoon. So.. It's the fourth full day in the psych ward, and Minsu feels maybe even worse than when he arrived. But day four means there are only three days remaining. And on the seventh, he will leave, he will go face the city, and.. figure it out from there. 

The picture of the false apartment listing flashes in his mind, and the shame he feels is immediate and profound. Being tricked like that teaches you a lesson, sure, but then you’re so desperate you end up agreeing to taking part in a fucking secret kill ring. How Minsu wishes those shiny countertops had been real. Shoddily repainted cupboards, an obvious quick renovation, but so much nicer than the place from before. God forbid he go back to that roommate situation. Fresh flooring, decently big window facing a decently unobstructed view of the city. It could have been his, if it had existed. 

Who does he even have to call on the outside? Who could he possibly ask for help? What the hell is he going to do? Just suck it up and be homeless for a little while? Where is he supposed to work? It occurs to him that he doesn’t even have his phone anymore, it had been stripped off of him at the same time as he had been placed in that horrible sweatsuit. He doubts the people investigating the games are prioritizing returning personal items to the players. Maybe when he is discharged he will be pleasantly surprised with his clothes, cell phone, and the train card he had had in his back pocket. But Minsu thinks that this is likely a detached wish. 

He supposes he can worry about finding a place to stay once he’s out. Maybe on the morning of the seventh day he’ll consider it. Right now, everything just feels like too much. It’s hard to rationalize a new beginning, let alone the semantics of starting from the bottom again.  

Minsu knows, deep down in his chest, that the second he gets out of here, it will be all of the same terrors of his life before. Just because he is a victim, it will not change anything. This brief time of accommodation, smothering, supposedly free healthcare.. he knows it will all go away. In a matter of days he is going to be out on his own again, in the dark humid city night. And he’ll be looking over his shoulder twice as often now. Check once for debt collectors, check the second time for any strange men in suits carrying briefcases. 

All this to say; as much as he doesn’t want to remain cooped up in this hospital, the world will be far less kind to him. After another couple days of thinking, Minsu has come to believe that this may be his last opportunity to spend any amount of time pondering the games. Thinking about what happened to him. Because as soon as he leaves this place, there will be no time in his life for feeling sorry for himself. Imagining faces that aren’t around anymore. He’ll be too busy trying to stay afloat, or more likely, trying to come up to the surface at all.

The room is no less unfamiliar than it had been on the first night of his stay. Just as the bedroom in the games had only seemed to get more chilling, more uncomfortable, the emptier it got. This psych ward room only feels colder and darker as the days pass. Now more than ever, Minsu feels a heavy layer of sorrow over him. The prospect of the potential friendship with Thanos flying out the window, it’s keeping him awake. Away enough at night to know that both last night and the night before, Thanos had easily snuck right out of the room. Thanos had showed him the stolen keys, dangles them like precious treasure. And Minsu had known right then to give up on any chance he thought he had to connect with Thanos on any level. 

He doesn’t understand the people they transform into when they are together. It’s something of a bad dream to watch it right in front of you. Like flicking a switch, Thanos and Namgyu go right back to carelessness, right back to the lifestyle they must have lived before the games. Aloof and goofy as it may appear, Minsu knows couch jumpers when he sees them. He knows what idiots who put all of their savings into crytpo scam coins act like. He knows what dickheads who spend more time high than sober behave. And he knows that it's not something you pick up in a few days. It’s not something that rubs off from one person to another in mere moments. It’s something you breed, something you water and grow, something you commit to. Minsu knows its ironic to call somebody a low life when he knows he has nowhere to fucking go when he gets out. But Thanos and Namgyu are low lives.

Worse than that: they are dangerous low lives. They aren’t just silly neighbours in your apartment building that reek like pot and laugh too loudly at the tv while you’re trying to sleep. Minsu imagines that they are all of those things actually. It is shockingly easy to picture them sprawled out on a sofa with the leather just cracking and breaking with years of use, a dumb cartoon with the volume inconsiderately high, and their voices sailing right through thin walls and assaulting whoever lives next to them. But they aren’t just that. They’re also killers. 

Thanos isn’t just a charismatic character with a penchant for forced nonchalance and the mask of a much younger guy. He’s a fucking killer. Minsu watched him kick Gyeongsu to the ground. He isn’t the loose, but careful personality from the garden game of catch. Slightly nervous eyes failing to match the confident posture. He isn’t the person Minsu spoke to in that meeting room. He isn’t anything apart from the guy who killed Gyeongsu. He isn’t anybody except the guy who voted over and over to sentence everyone in that room to death, and cornered Minsu, threatened Minsu for wanting to get out.

Namgyu at least, hadn’t ever pretended to be anything other than what he is. At least, when Minsu looks at Namgyu, there is no conflict. He is cold, he is mean, he has been those things for evidently much longer than the short weeks Minsu has known him. And as silly as he seems to get around Thanos, he doesn’t drop his cruelty. If anything, it blooms. It becomes fuller in proximity to his taller, cooler, more famous friend. Like a bird showing off, Namgyu seems to glow in bright ridiculous colours, feathers you didn’t know it was possible for him to have. Out of all of the calculated malice, comes more and more of it. More than you thought reasonable for any person to hold. Rage-filled, bitchy, wannabe. Killer. 

And now, together like tiny children holding hands and swinging them as they walk, Thanos and Namgyu are together once more. Encouraging each other to be the worst versions of themselves. 

In the end, it really didn’t matter that Minsu had been awake to witness Thanos leaving the room the second time, because this morning Minsu woke to the ruckus of him being caught. Yelling in the hallways at the break of dawn, no doubt waking up everybody else in this section of the ward— maybe even the entire hospital. The staff sounded about as livid as they could possibly sound, and the chirping of the birds in the garden for once did not stand a chance at overpowering the voices. 

Minsu had yawned, stretched, sat up like a lazy cat, and watched as the dividing curtains separating his and Thanos’ beds sway with a big gust of air. The door on Thanos’ side of the room is opened aggressively, swinging right into the wall with a loud bang, and Minsu had jolted a little in his bed. He had brought his knees up to his chest before he knew what was happening. And it had to have been five staff members coming in and looking through the room like a swat team. They stripped Thanos’ bed, dug through all of the empty drawers, swept their hands over every protruding edge in the room as though they were going to find a secret switch and a hidden tunnel. They removed virtually everything from the room aside from the bedframe all in a matter of about ten minutes, all huffy and angry and stomping. 

Clearly, Thanos had been caught, and now in the early hours of this fourth day, Minsu was suffering the consequences. 

He had sighed, frustratedly, and attempted to tuck himself back into bed as the rummaging continued. And he could only turn himself over on his side to face the wall instead of the dividers, and pull his pillow around his head to block out the furious conversation between the nurses. The bangs of them carrying the dresser out into the hallway to flip it and check for secret hiding spots. Two custodians came in and cleaned the whole room too, Minsu could hear the squelch of the mop coming into the corners of the floors, squealing and bubbling.

What the hell do they think Thanos had? Have they not found the keys on him? Are they thinking he busted the lock with a small homemade bomb or something? Why are they being so thorough at four in the goddamn morning?

The Minsu of a few hours later, maybe eight or nine, the Minsu of a now quiet and locked room, is less annoyed and much more curious about the whole thing.

Why hasn’t Thanos been thrown back in here? Is there such thing as isolation chambers in hospitals? Like in maximum security prisons? Has Thanos been thrown in one of the castle dungeons where the only exit is a grate in the ceiling? Has he been kicked out of the hospital completely? Dishonourably discharged, if you will. 

“My lil boy Minsu!” A croaky voice says as Thanos’ side of the room is once again entered. Minsu sits in his bed, hair tussled with horrible sleep. And he looks through the spaces between dividers to see that it is indeed Thanos himself who said it. Thanos enters accompanied by a nurse, who holds both of his hands behind him like he is a felon. Which.. well. 

“You can talk again?” Minsu asks softly, as the nurse tells Thanos to sit down on the bed. Minsu can’t really see all that much through the curtains, but he knows he wants to get out of here. 

“Yep,” Thanos’ gravelly voice says. Undeniably in a horrible state of disuse and injury. “Cleared to chat to our hearts content, Minsu.”

”Uhm.” Minsu says, breathily. He really wants out. When is breakfast? 

“None of that please,” The nurse says, that male nurse who was assigned to Thanos is always a bit of a hardass, Minsu finds. “None of that. Keep to yourself like you promised you would, yeah? You’re on thin ice right now, and I can't be dealing with you harassing your roommate too.” 

“Thought we could switch? Maybe?” Thanos says to his nurse, and his voice is so rough it actually hurts a little bit to listen to. Minsu presses his lips together. What does Thanos mean by switch. He wants Minsu’s side of the room? 

“Yeah, that's not happening. You can’t seriously believe we would let you two room together after that,” Thanos’ nurse scolds, like Thanos is an actual kindergartener. “You’re lucky I’m still letting you see him at all. I want this to be the last time I have to say it to you, Subong. This is a place of healing. Not a place of scheming.”

”We WERE healing,” Thanos says. And, this phrase does seem to give the nurse pause, because it is silent from their side of the room for several moments. Thanos’ voice sounds incredibly vulnerable, shivery, almost. Minsu wonders just where Thanos went last night. Surely they hadn’t just been caught anticlimactically in Namgyu’s likely much smaller room. 

“I’ll be back soon to get you for breakfast,” Subong’s nurse says. “Your nurse will be here in a bit as well, Minsu.”

And the last part, the nurse raises his voice to say it, as though Minsu is a lot further away than a few feet. As if the curtains splitting the room are soundproofing. Minsu needs to get out of here. Somehow, this ‘place of healing’ is making him cynical.

The nurse leaves, and the door latches locked with a quick click. 

Minsu expects for Thanos to immediately bounce up from his bed and peek through the curtains to chat with his newfound voice. But instead it all goes silent. Minsu hears nothing except the now familiar breaths in and breaths out of his distant roommate. 

Minsu can’t take a moment more of it. “Thanos.”

”Hm?” Thanos says, from across the room. And Minsu hears him perk up on his bed, the little squeal of the mattress springs, the shuffle of a body against the replaced duvet. 

“Where did you go?” Minsu asks.

”The roof,” Thanos responds, casually. And Minsu doesn’t even know what to think about that. They didn’t try to get out? They didn’t try to go mess with anything? They just snuck up to the roof? To- what- to stargaze? 

“Why?” Minsu asks. 

And Thanos is quiet for a second. Minsu half expects him to reply with a ‘why not’, he waits on this with growing irritation. 

“Felt right,” Thanos says. Which, could imply a lot of things. And Minsu decides he wants to know exactly none of it. 

“You’re never going home,” Minsu tells him. And it's unnecessary, and cold, and not really his style. But he’s sort of over being the little guy. 

“They’re not that mad,” Thanos says, coughing a little into his fist Minsu assumes— from the strange muffle of it. “They’re just throwing a fit to look extra professional. I’m sure patients actually do that all the time.”

”..I don’t think so,” Minsu says flatly. 

“But whatever. I’m not in a rush,” Thanos says, aggravatingly relaxed. 

So so relaxed. He’s a killer and he’s leaning back on his hospital cot like he is about to recieve a massage and a delivery of jewels and tea. Acting like the successful leader of an empire. Uncaring, zero acknowledgement of the person he killed. The other people who died as a result of .. well either of his substance abuse or just plain him. Minsu still hasn’t decided. 

Mostly because whatever he decides will apply to himself as well. If Namgyu had really taken that fall and died, shrieked and screamed and exploded on the whimsically painted terrain of the jump rope arena— would it have been the pills fault? Or Minsu’s fault? 

When Minsu thinks of Semi’s face, it is much much easier to harbour the responsibility. For .. Namgyu’s not-death. 

The last time they spoke, the other night when Thanos showed the keys to him— Minsu had been about to tell him that he understands how Gyeongsu died. Minsu had killed that poor shaman woman in cold blood. He understands how those drugs can do that to you.. or, open the gate inside you. Whatever gate needs opening. Whatever one’s opening would result in a killing. How those drugs let you become the worst version of yourself. Uninhibited, less thoughtful, lost in the feelings. Minsu had killed that woman. He is in no position to attack Thanos for what he had done. 

Besides, Minsu had seen how he acted afterwards. confused, horrified, in the tiny red chamber they had been held in. He had poked his fingers through the slit in the door, eyes bulging out of his head, screaming Gyeongsu’s name like he wasn’t the one who killed him. He had been even less aware than Minsu had been. 

And. Whatever state Namgyu was in during that nighttime fight, however many pills he popped, running on the afterburn of anger and sadness following Thanos’ ‘death’ in the bathroom. He had transformed into a monster. A monster Minsu honestly has no fucking interest in even attempting to forgive. Where the morality, the influence of the drugs is ambiguous on Thanos. It is black and white on Namgyu. He is just as bad when he’s completely sober. Just as bad, or at least bad enough to launch himself at Minsu and try to strangle him to death. 

“You’re not in a rush,” Minsu repeats, monotonously. Although he is sure his own disbelief, his own slight offense, is audible through it. 

“Yeah,” Thanos confirms. “No rush.”

”Why? Don’t you want to get out of here and continue on with your crazy luxury life?” Minsu asks, more mockingly than he had intended. He clears his throat afterwards, an afterthought, hoping the phrasing sounds a little more casual. He’s not really trying to get choked out a second time this week. 

“You should know better- be- better-“ Thanos coughs for a solid twenty seconds in the middle of the sentence. And Minsu tries not to enjoy the painful noises, thinking of Gyeongsu. The least Thanos can do is take on some bodily pain. It feels unfair that he’s already well enough to act this way. Minsu can just imagine him splayed out on the bed all relaxed, like all is right with the world. And the next thing he says makes Minsu scoff. “You should know better than anybody that I’m not living lush.”

”Oh yeah like you can’t just go out there and drop some new track and make back what you lost?” Minsu asks. “Everybody else in there was probably jobless, hopeless. The only thing holding you back is your own motivation, Thanos. You work for yourself.”

”Where’s all the bravery coming from, Minsu?” Thanos asks, voice gurgly— almost wet sounding. Minsu can’t imagine it feels very good to speak right now, apart from the freedom. ”If you want some tickets to my next show all you have to do is ask.”

”I’m just,” Minsu sighs. “How can you be so.. normal? Normal about all of this?” 

It’s quiet for a moment, so quiet that Minsu can hear Thanos swallow.

”Dude, I’m not normal about this at all. What are you-“ Thanos hacks out painfully. “What the hell are you talking about?”

”Well you-“ Minsu tries. 

“You don’t know what’s going on in my head, man,” Thanos tells him, his voice sounding raspier with the emotion. “None of this is normal.”

”How are you.. then how are you just. Acting just like you did before?” Minsu asks. And before Thanos can answer, he carries on. “With Namgyu, I mean. It’s like nothing happened at all.”

”Minsu you haven’t heard our conversations, okay boy?” Thanos says, and he coughs again after. A dry cough this time, and Minsu nearly shivers at the noise of it. The unwelcome visual of Thanos’ raw throat, Minsu rubs at his eyes and shakes his head with a small grimace. “It’s easier for us to deal that way.”

”How can you..” Minsu tries again, but Thanos interrupts.

”How are you gonna keep going if you don’t try to be normal again? It’s working for me, alright?” Thanos says. And then, strangely, unexpectedly: “If I try hard enough, I don't feel sober. When I’m with him, you know?” 

Minsu thinks on that for a second or two before responding. It makes sense, the longer it tumbles around in his mind. Almost as if mimicking the effects of the drugs, the two of them go into this sort of giggly, loose, unimportant state of mind. Minsu thinks everything must feel less significant, less harrowing. Like playing pretend. The way they get all mean and careless, it's like nihilism. A cruel, positive nihilism that turns them against everybody else. Or maybe, it's more that it turns them towards each other. The picture of the both of them up on the roof for no good reason, staring up at a dark sky, breathing in the biting nighttime air. It makes goosebumps rise on Minsu’s skin. 

“Well you definitely don’t act sober,” Minsu tells him, a little reluctantly. 

He thinks it wasn’t the right thing to say when Thanos doesn’t respond, but after a minute more of silence, Thanos starts to laugh.

It's an ugly laugh, admittedly, and once again, like most everything that comes out of Thanos’ mouth, it sounds like it hurts. And it sounds like he’s bending over his chest to silence the kind of crunch, the popping, the snap of the air leaving him so violently. But he’s laughing, and Minsu can hear the smile on his face. 

The honesty spills over from there. 

“I think if I keep him around, I wouldn’t even have to use anymore,” Thanos says. And To Minsu, the tone sounds jokey. Like Thanos is waiting for a laugh. But really, it sounds more truthful than Thanos probably intends it to. 

“Have you told him that?” Minsu asks, despite the disturbing idea of Namgyu being anybody’s saving grace. The guy is fucked up even when he’s not fucked up. But, then again, Thanos wasn’t there to witness all of the senseless killings during keys and knives. 

“Kinda,” Thanos says, and the way his voice bumps, he must shrug as he says it. ”I told him we should take care of each other when we get out of here. But I-“

Minsu winces as Thanos begins to cough again. Hard, loud coughing. Minsu thinks this conversation is probably going to be cut short if he keeps up these fits, because if he were a nurse he would definitely be coming in and telling Thanos to cool it by now. It's like the opposite of quitting cold turkey, Minsu supposes. His throat must be burning. 

Then, while he attempts to recover before resuming his sentence, Minsu thinks about how he worded that last bit. Take care of each other. Maybe Minsu is reading too far into it, or maybe Thanos means to provide each other with the stuff they need. Substance-wise. Maybe that's what this whole thing is about. Their entire partnership was built on that cross full of pills, after all. But, Minsu can’t help but picture the two of them on some dingy couch, cuddling up next to each other while the cable fizzles into nothingness and the lights go off because they forgot to pay the bills. To Minsu, it sounds like a plan to live together, to be together, whatever that means. Taking care of each other, in the literal sense. 

“But I didn’t tell him he probably wouldn’t need to give me much,” Thanos says. And Minsu understands then that he meant substances only. Taking care of each other as in, giving each other whatever they have access to. “He was kinda pissed I made it sound like he didn’t have his connections or- ack- or whatever. Like I was gonna coddle him.” 

“What, you offered to give him what he needs?” Minsu asks, and, like most things he has said today, it comes out wrong. More bold than he’s used to being. It comes out almost suggestive. Like he should just go ahead and use the term ‘sugar daddy’. Namgyu would hate that shit. Thanos seems to also hate the prospect of it, or- he is at least shocked by it. He makes a sort of spit-take like sound, blowing a raspberry like he can’t believe Minsu just said that.

”Damn Minsu you know I didn't.. didn’t mean it like that,” Thanos says, sounding more nervous than Minsu is used to hearing from him. “I Just-“ 

Thanos coughs. 

“I just implied like. Like if he wanted to, he could tag along with me and stuff,” Thanos finishes. “I got lots of chicks who like to hang around, join me travelling.”

”Namgyu’s not a chick,” Minsu says. And Thanos laughs. 

“Well yeah, I think that's why he got pissy about it,” Thanos says. So normal. They’re talking about fucking.. travelling for Thanos’ new music? How are they even thinking about any of that right now? They’re like five days out of the worst experience of their lives. One they went into innocent, and came out murderers. And they’re not even stuck contemplating said experience like Minsu is. Trapped in their own brains like Minsu is, seeing people that aren’t here, feeling a moral conflict inflict actual pain on his body. They’re just fucking daydreaming about what’s next.

”He wanted me to know that he could pull the strings for me too, right? I’ve never had anybody so uh..” Thanos pauses there, and then a second later begins to cough. Almost like he needed to cover up the fact that he had stumbled over the thought at all. The coughing continues, and Minsu thinks he knows exactly what Thanos is getting at. It’s more than the substances then. More than free drinks at the club or a baggy of powder every once in a while. It’s about how eager Namgyu is. To please him, to be around him. In a clingy way, sure, but somehow unlike the girls he is used to. Not quite the desperation of groupies, certainly not the helplessness. Minsu thinks it's a little less like having a groupie and more like having a bodyguard, if anything. A touchy bodyguard, sure. 

Minsu picks up that Thanos doesn’t want to finish the thought, likely well aware of how it sounds. What it implies. So Minsu doesn’t prod. 

“Where’d your keyring go?” Minsu changes the subject.

”Chucked it off the roof,” Thanos replies, easily. Minsu blinks.

”So.. that's it then? No more sneaking out?” Minsu asks. And, as time passes waiting for the nurses to fetch them, Minsu thinks his voice is beginning to get smaller and smaller. “Probably for the better. If you want to be discharged sooner rather than later.”

“Nono,” Thanos says. “We took off my room key and the stairwell key. They’re in my cross.”

”What? They don’t know that the cross is a case? They don’t know it opens up?” Minsu asks, angry that Thanos is still dragging this on. It’s not helping either of them, sneaking around at night and getting caught. It’s only to satisfy their sick need to deviate, break the rules. Act out. 

“They don’t know,” Thanos confirms. 

“And.. where is it?” Minsu asks.

”Namsu has it,” Thanos replies. And Minsu knows Thanos can’t see him through the curtains, so he rolls his eyes at the nickname. What Minsu was sure had been indifference, carelessness, even irritation, before. Not even classifiable as a nickname, more like a mistake. Now, Minsu knows it has to be endearment. More than a nickname, even. A fucking pet name, at this point. 

“What so.. he’s going to come get you tonight and you’ll find some other place to sneak off to?” Minsu asks, hushed, as though the nurses are listening.

”.. Yeah,” Thanos says, unbothered. 

“Thanos, what’s the point of that?” Minsu asks. 

“Well I.. we want to hang out,” Thanos says. 

“But…” Minsu sighs, running a hand over his face. “Don’t you think if you stay put the nurses will let you see him during the day? Then you can get out of here quicker.”

”I told you.. it's no rush, my boy,” Thanos says. Minsu doesn’t understand the lack of urgency. Minsu doesn’t even have an apartment to return to, and he’s more eager to leave this place than Thanos is. The guy who probably has the most waiting for him out there. Followers, a decent bit of profitable talent, a place to sleep. And clearly no nagging conscience if his current behaviour is any indicator. 

“Well you’re clearly in some kind of rush,” Minsu says, quietly. And he’s surprised at himself. Thanos doesn’t reply, and Minsu can just picture the confused look on his face. The same one he pulled whenever somebody pointed out his lapses of idiocy. Both brows furrowed, eyes looking upwards into one corner of the ceiling, thoughtfully. Looking empty-headed as ever, lips pushed down into a small ‘o’ shape. 

”Maybe not a rush to get out,” Minsu explains. “But a rush just the same.” 

“What- a rush to see Namgyu? Is that what you’re saying?” Thanos says, with a laugh. And Minsu hears him slip out of bed and walk over to the curtain divider to tug it open. Faced with him, Minsu suddenly regrets all of his words. He feels infinitely less brave with Thanos standing tall at the half-point of the room. Just a couple feet away. Capable hands. The bruises on Minsu’s neck sting. Minsu subconsciously brings a hand up to rub them. 

“Minsu, don’t be petty because you’re in your feelings,” Thanos says, tilting his head a little bit. “You’re acting jealous because we’ve got our shit figured out.”

Minsu doesn’t reply to that. Just stares at him with watery eyes. Suddenly, as though transported back into the games, he feels like he should hunch over himself again. 

Thanos is a bit of an enigma, in that he never attempted to make Minsu feel smaller. And even if he had contributed to Minsu’s nerves, he had never made Minsu shrink quite like Namgyu did. He didn’t have that sharpness about him, the bite that Namgyu had. If anything, he had come to the defense. Up until Minsu had swapped sides, of course. 

Minsu had thought it had been to show off to Semi, look all mature and laid-back and respectful. When he was none of those things. But now, Minsu sort of thinks Namgyu had something to do with it. Namgyu’s almost shocking aggression, hostility, bitchiness, it needed a cushion. It needed some kind of shield, a pillow for the ring to sit on. Thanos acted as a chaser, essentially. The sip of sprite after a vodka shot. It’s almost as if he had settled into that position of stability, not necessarily to show off to anybody, but to encourage Namgyu’s complimentary mean-dog attitude. Namgyu wouldn’t have jumped to snarl and bite so much if Thanos had done it instead. But Thanos had reminded them all to use the right honourifics, he had called them a team. Almost like.. giving something for Namgyu to tear apart. 

He had been a villain to that MG coin guy, sure. But from what Minsu understood, he was the whole reason Thanos ended up in the games in the first place.

In hindsight, Minsu does wonder if the people who run the games had set out to find conflicting persons. Worse, family members. The mom and son, that girl who MG got pregnant. And, some victims of a crypto scam in the same game as the guy who ran the fucking scam? It had to have been for an audience. Minsu is sure that there were people watching them. More people than just the guards. In fact, now that he really thinks about it, how could the games have possibly been funded if not for rich people paying to view it all. 

“You’ll probably be out before us,” Thanos says, as he leans against the pole holding one side of the curtain up. It shudders with his weight. “But you can come hang out anytime. We should stick together. You’re part of the Thanos world, you know.” 

“I.. don’t think that's a good idea,” Minsu says.

”Why? Cuz you and Namsu have some shit going on?” Thanos asks. “I’ll just tell him to chill. He listens to me.”

”It’s more.. it's because I don't think we’re really looking at this the same way, Thanos,” Minsu says, softly. 

“Alright. Well, when you realize you can’t go back in time and fix it,” Thanos corrects himself. “THEN you can start hanging out with us.” 

“I’m not— I don’t think—“ Minsu tries. Thanos sticks his thumbs in his waistband, treating it like beltloops. 

“Once you get out of your head about what you did, then,” Thanos says. “Everybody who made it out of there got somebody killed somehow, okay? You gotta accept it or you’re gonna kill yourself thinking too hard about it.” 

“You’ve accepted it, then?” Minsu asks. “You don’t think there was any part of the real you that.. that did all of that?” 

“Drugs don’t make me less real, Minsu,” Thanos tells him. And Minsu feels his body go cold. “And I guess it's less about accepting it and more about focusing on other things.” 

Thanos pauses to cough, laugh, then cough again. Minsu stares, eyes stinging.

”I had to remind Namsu that he probably doesn’t have a job anymore. That’s something to think about. Finding something new to do,” Thanos says. “I’ve been writing lyrics.” 

Minsu doesn’t want to tell him that he didn’t even have a job to lose by being gone for a few weeks without notice. He didn’t have an apartment to miss the bill payments for. He didn’t have anything. And therefore, nothing to think about. No distractions. 

Or maybe, everything to think about. But it's not as though he can apartment hunt from the psych ward. He doesn’t think the nurses will be willing to give him a laptop. And Minsu doesn’t suppose he has any means of coming up with a down payment. Or a security deposit. Or even money to refill his train card. 

“So you’re just… marching onward…? Like this is normal?” Minsu asks, once again ashamed that he feels himself getting smaller by the second. 

“It is normal now,” Thanos counters. “This is our normal, man.” 

Then, he starts coughing again, hard, and he stumbles backwards into his side of the room. The curtain falls back, splitting them once again, and Minsu can only turn and face the wall. He wishes he hadn’t even started the conversation. It had been little more than frustrating. 

What had looked like guilt, shame, confusion, on Thanos’ face a couple days ago during the shitty game of catch. What had looked like regret and frustration and fear, now it all looked like arrogance, condescension, dismissal. Like Thanos hadn’t thought of Gyeongsu for even one second since Minsu brought him up. Hadn’t worried his head about it at all. 

Minsu can’t understand it. He listens to Thanos cough and hack through the dividers. Even as the gross, angry sounding coughing fit floods his ears, Minsu can only hear  Semi’s little laugh as she called them losers and walked away. Her shoulders had shaken, food in hand, laughing about the whole thing like they were at summer camp. Lying about her age to command some respect from Namgyu, no doubt the smartest person in their little group. Her little smile when she got away with it, hidden behind her hand, itching at her cheek. It’s all Minsu sees. 

And his chest aches, and he knows that- as painful as Thanos’ coughing sounds— he is not hurting like Minsu is.

Thanos will leave this room again tonight, and meet the person he refuses to be clear about. And they will sit on the fucking roof together all romantic-like and talk about their feelings. Ignoring the people whose lives they ended, and instead cast all of their focus on how their own lives shall continue. Minsu feels the anger take over, on Semi’s behalf. As Thanos continues to cough, attempting every now and then to stop, only for them to erupt again.  

Semi is dead. She died in a horrible place, on a dirty floor, to a dirty piece of glass, held in the hand of a dirty, evil, man who holds no remorse. 

And that man gets to skip over to Thanos’ room and pick him up like a high schooler grabbing their prom date. Gets to hold hands with him and take him stargazing while Semi lays dead somewhere on that island. It’s fucking infuriating. 

And.. Minsu thinks about the shaman lady he killed. And how he gets to sit in this hospital room and think such thoughts, when he had also taken a life. 

Thanos is right. All of this thinking is going to kill him. Maybe even sooner than these coughs kill his roommate. 

Chapter Text

“We’re getting good at this,” Namgyu says, as he opens up Thanos’ door, the dim light of the hallway casting a pretty glow across Thanos’ face. He is greeted by a peculiar expression in this glow, like Thanos is keeping something from him. 

It’s a funny look, it's not necessarily bad. Namgyu doesn’t think Thanos could make any face that Namgyu would consider bad. Not after what he saw in the bathroom, that ice hot terror frozen on his face, hand clasped against his spurting neck. Thanos, standing in his little psych ward room, looking like a teenager that just hid his drug paraphernalia in one of his drawers. A smoke-filled room that a mother would instantly clock, sniffing and pinching her nose and starting a screaming match. Thanos looks like a child that has stolen something from daycare, or a cat that has knocked something off of the counter. Maybe a dog that has tracked mud into the house. 

But it's weird, because Namgyu doesn’t really see any shame there, just blank anxiety. Like whatever Thanos is keeping from him for these few seconds isn’t bad. Isn’t worth worrying over. He looks antsy. Namgyu feels himself go still, letting his eyes fall over his friend and the room he had yet to see. The curtains that split Thanos’ side and Minsu’s side, they are interesting to see. Childish little cartoon animal pattern splayed out on one of them, Namgyu knows if he were to sleep here, that curtain would be long gone. Stuffed carelessly in one corner of the room, opening up the room for both of them. He would even.. maybe, push their beds together. Drag the dresser out of the way, screeching against the floor, watching Thanos grunt, his arms tense as he helped push it to the other wall.

Namgyu shakes his head, freeing himself from the imagery.   

Namgyu waits, feeling his smile turn into something nervous, as Thanos stands in the room instead of coming immediately to slip out into the hallway with him. Namgyu glances behind him at the already prepared fake body, though unlikely to work at all this time. Thanos is ready to go. Why isn’t he moving? 

Then, Namgyu sees a strange smile appear on Thanos’ face, and Namgyu notices that the notepad and marker are left behind, sitting on Thanos’ bedside table. 

“My Namgyu,” Thanos says, coming forward to put an arm around Namgyu’s shoulders. And Namgyu is so taken aback by Thanos’ sudden ability to speak, that he doesn’t even know how to reply. His mouth hangs open, and he feels his eyes grow oddly teary. It feels completely stupid. He can’t get a word out. 

It’s so nice, he realizes. As lame and casual as the word is, it is so so nice to hear his voice again. It’s almost like Namgyu had forgotten he had had one at all, let alone such a nice one. It feels like seeing him in the club for the first time. Namgyu stands there like an idiot, practically seeing the flashing lights glow down on Thanos, the bumping music pounding through their bodies, inching them closer together. It feels like dark nights and vapor, flickering hot pink signage, laughing and touching. And he notices, embarrassingly late, that Thanos had said his name right. Put the g where the s usually is, and prefaced it with a ‘my’. It sends a buzz through him, like a shot would, like a hit would. 

Namgyu wants to rush forward and hug him, grab him and pull his hair til he screams or shouts or whines, just to hear him do all of it. Just to hear how it all sounds. He wants to ask him a million questions and listen to his pretty voice hum out all of his pondering. And then, eventually, ramble out the answers. All the words coming together all lazily like they did before, with a specific style attached, a sort of enthusiasm hidden behind a cool-exterior. An easy tone that carries too many words for it all to be truly easy. 

Namgyu feels his own smile grow back again, almost painfully cutting up into his cheeks, pinching at his eyes and stretching his skin out in a warm comfortable way. He feels the sudden happiness charge through him like he has won the lottery. The sudden pictures in his head, Thanos on tour, on stage, letting that gorgeous voice reach a hundred other people. Not with the same preface, never with a ‘my’ attached to it, but the people in the crowd would feel close to him anyway. Like those super fans tend to. And Thanos would come into the wings and pull Namgyu into a tight hold, murmuring something nice in his ear in between tracks. 

Namgyu forgets that he hasn’t moved a muscle, hasn’t said a thing, the key to Thanos’ room dangling along with his jaw. 

Thanos decides to capitalize on this silence with a joke. “Hush, hush, I know it's great that I have my voice back but chill with the excitement. Minsu is trying to sleep.”

”Shut up you idiot,” Namgyu says, brought back to life like a soldier tapped out by a family member. Laughing a little under his breath at Thanos’ familiar silliness. Namgyu punches him very lightly in the side. “Let’s go.”

Namgyu couldn’t care less that Minsu is trying to sleep. And, while Namgyu’s head is admittedly feeling quite hazy with his mild concussion, he couldn’t be more eager to go sit somewhere and chat to Thanos again. It’s the only good part of his life right now. And, despite all of the outward anger from yesterday morning, it doesn’t seem like they tried very hard to up the security. The hallways are empty, just as they had been the night before. And Namgyu holds both Thanos’ room key and the key to the stairwell tightly in his fist. The cross encasing both of them.   

Namgyu wonders, as they slither out of the room together, Minsu’s distant sigh muffled by his duvet, if the staff will recover the keyring. There were several other keys still on it, sitting in some bush on the hospital grounds, below wherever they had been sitting on the roof. If they were to watch the cameras outside, maybe they would see it fall, see where it landed. Stupidly, ridiculously, when they had not found anything on them, the search had seemed to abruptly end. They gave up so easily. And although Namgyu knows his room was probably searched thoroughly while he had his head examined, he had held the cross on him the whole time. A special, sentimental little object they didn’t think twice about. They didn’t even bother peering the slightest bit closer to uncover the fact that it opened up.

There is a dull tingle of victory warming him as they tiptoe through the dark and now comfortingly familiar hallways of the ward. Even if they were to be caught right at this moment, it would not stifle this strange sense of pride. The sort of pride that comes with being well and truly yourself even through the most challenging circumstances. And, these staff members should come to realize sooner or later, that even if the keys were to be retrieved from the cross and confiscated, Thanos and Namgyu would find another way. Because that’s who they are. This is the shit they do. This is what Namgyu is living for, at least right now. 

The eerily appealing high of sneaking about, like those urban explorers must get in those graffiti devoured factories and farm houses— adrenaline junkies. It is so satisfying, from every angle, to push and push and push until people can’t handle you anymore. It’s always been something Namgyu enjoys, usually in the form of substances and sharp words. In this case, his actions, his actions combined with those of a same-minded partner. Like criminals on the run in the west, searching for a tomorrow that allows for easy-living. Defying the sheet of civilization and industrialization coming to settle over the land they know. Namgyu feels his heart pound, can practically feel the blood pumping, as he looks sideways at Thanos’ little grin. His small mouth upturned into something Namgyu can only define as smug. 

He feels the same way. He feels the same high, that same sort of defiance, and the same pride that stems from it. Namgyu smiles to himself and switches the cross into his other hand, to grab at Thanos with the one closest to him.

He snatches his hand up mid-swing as they walk, clenches it tight, fingers folding together. It’s a connection they had yet to do like this, like a walk in the park. Or on the beach. It’s something Namgyu doesn’t typically do with anybody, because he is never in scenarios like that. Namgyu has trouble picturing Thanos in those places too. Hand-holding, bench kissing, picnic having. None of it is as real to him as the chest-caressing, lap-sitting, and drink-pouring of club pentagon. But, Namgyu blinks. Looks at Thanos, as Thanos looks down between them. His eyes peeking down at where their hands are together, pupils large, smug grin curling up into his cheeks. He thinks, if he tries very very hard, Namgyu can imagine a paparazzi photo of them. Holding hands just like this, in a park, holding a coffee, studio headset dangling around one of their necks, a clipboard in hand, a bag holding a concert outfit. 

It is not lost on Namgyu what nearly occurred last night. The almost-kiss had put things in perspective for him rather quickly. An idea that they had definitely been skirting around, an undercurrent of romance in all of their sly little touches. Their tones when speaking to each other. The way they felt together in the games. A togetherness that comes from physical familiarity, as well as the general chemistry. 

Namgyu isn’t the type to worry about ‘messing up a friendship’ or something like that. And, even funnier, is the idea that what they have could ever be messed up by something so simple. Because that is what it is. Simple. Love, or- attraction, romantic feelings, all of that is simple compared to what they went through together. And besides, their first time interacting involved a lot of heavy petting, hot breaths and kisses Namgyu wishes he remembered better. What is there to mess up if it is all built on a foundation of.. messiness? You can't die twice. Once you’re in hell, that's it. All this to say, if Thanos was to lean in again like he had the night before, Namgyu would not hesitate. 

It’s a pretty picture, them together on the outside, sticking to their usual bullshit. The comfy haze of drugs and sleazy atmospheres. But, taking it all on together, as a pair. Gross and horrible and carrying the bodies of multiple losers on their consciences, but together nonetheless. And maybe, on top of the normal that they were both used to, the club-going, the fooling around, the trays of shots, and the other type of shots usually outside or in the bathroom— could it hurt to spend time in the park too? The beach? The bench? Followed by cameras, by curious eyes and excited smiles form fans and followers. People wanting to know what’s going on, who Namgyu is, why Thanos picked him. 

That strange pride, it comes back full force in a weird squirmy way. It makes Namgyu feel a little weak, looking at Thanos as anything other than a friend, like a crush. Like a man Namgyu wants. Wants to show off and brag about. The big rapper boyfriend who keeps the money coming in. 

Namgyu smiles to himself as their hands swing between them, a few more steps to the stairwell. Namgyu thinks if the offer still stands, he would absolutely ditch club promoting forever. Joining Thanos on some dreamy tour, helping navigate the artist scene as new people. The idea of this new version of himself, seasoned and kind of rotted with his acts. A slob of a person, surely, but put together where it matters. The stubborn assistant that could keep Thanos in line. And sneak into changing rooms when the opportunity arises. Namgyu would wink at the cameras, snap at the fans, be downright mean to concert security. It’s a nice idea. More than nice. Kind of.. amazing. Fantastic. All the stupid descriptors. It’s a life he could see himself thoroughly enjoying. 

“You happy to hear me again?” Thanos asks, clearly still feeling ecstatic about the return of verbal communication. Namgyu can’t blame him, and hearing his voice again is the cherry on top of his current mindset of success. The forward thinking can stop here, because now they need to focus on evading any staff members and enjoying their night. The beautiful new life in the spotlight can wait, as Namgyu still has at least three days left in the psych ward. If they even change their minds about extending his week.

Tomorrow will be day five, and while they did warn him that his mother had signed for a longer stay if it is deemed necessary, Namgyu is pretty sure he can change things in the time he has.

Almost out of body, he sees himself and Thanos once again breaking out of their rooms and up to the stairwell. Namgyu nearly laughs to himself at the absurdity of his train of thought in this moment, as he hands the stairwell key to Thanos. How dare he think about convincing the nurses to let him go early when he is once again breaking the rules. How dare he even consider the idea of being discharged at the end of the week, while actively defying the rules AGAIN. The exact thing that they said would cost him more days in here. 

He wasn’t planning to assault Minsu again, though. He’s pretty sure that part is what causes them to get permission to keep him longer anyway. If he keeps his hands to himself, or at least, off of Minsu’s neck, he’s sure he can pull some strings.

Maybe it's the excitement of being next to Thanos again causing him to be so positive, but Namgyu can’t help it. He’s so hooked on the idea of getting out of here and living together, so hooked on it that his mindset has completely warped. It has shifted so impressively since his check-in day, when he thought Thanos was fucking dead, that nothing can really keep him down right now. Not even the lingering knowledge that his mom’s signature is sitting on some paper in their office, affirming to the hospital that they can keep him locked up in here as long as they please. Not even that.

It occurs to Namgyu, as the door to the stairwell sort of squeals as it opens, and the sound pierces painfully into Namgyu’s fragile head— that it could also be the concussion encouraging him to think so optimistically about his stay here in this hospital.

 “Of course I am,” Namgyu says, sincerely. Thanos smiles bigger than the smug thing he had on before, and he captures Namgyu’s hand again as they get through the door and carefully start climbing up the steps. “I love your voice.”

”You got a favourite track of mine, baby?” Thanos asks, boldly. And, somehow, surprisingly, it's the first time Thanos has used a pet name like that for him. And it's, shockingly far less silly than the ones he had applied to Mina and Semi. It doesn’t sound mocking, or really all that playful. It sounds serious, and genuine. Namgyu feels himself holding his breath, embarrassingly impacted by the cute little term of endearment. And he wonders if it had just been too awkward for Thanos to write out such a word. If he had been thinking about Namgyu in this way this whole time, and he had just neglected to voice it like this specifically because of his lack of voice.

Namgyu is glad Thanos didn’t write baby during their notepad conversations. Namgyu can’t help but think it would not have caused the same warmth and flutters that he feels right now when it slips from Thanos’ lips.

”So many,” Namgyu tells him, clearing his throat once he has his emotions together again. He feels oddly vulnerable. This isn’t really the type of relationship he usually concerns himself with. Namgyu really actually can’t remember the last time he was called baby in a way that wasn’t inherently seductive, degrading, dirty. He can’t actually recall a time it was said to him by any real partner. He can only picture the old drunks that he would have to check in on during work. “I love your second EP.” 

“Really? Most people didn’t care for it..” Thanos says, and he sounds truly pleasantly surprised. Namgyu didn’t mean to out himself as a fan, and he really wasn't. At least, nothing close to that one nurse. But he works in a club.. worked, worked in a club. Of course he was going to know the ins and outs of popular rappers. “My fans thought it was too sensitive. They like my crude stuff.”

”Are you calling me sensitive?” Namgyu asks, pinching him on the arm as they continue to climb.

”Nah nah nah,” Thanos shakes his head. “Don’t twist my words. Not when I just got them back!!”

Namgyu laughs, and they walk up the steps so close together that their entire sides are pressed up against each other. 

“I just realized,” Thanos says, with that sort of empty-headed look on his face that he gets sometimes. The one that looks totally stupid but is somehow very charming to Namgyu- “There's no way they left that chair there. How are we supposed to get up there?” 

“Hm,” Namgyu says, as they come to pause on one of the platforms between one flight and the next. “Should we try going somewhere else?” Namgyu asks. 

“We don’t have the keys to anywhere else,” Thanos says, bringing a hand up to run through Namgyu’s hair. 

“Then.. hm,” Namgyu says again, and he shivers at the feeling across his scalp. The tender backside of his skull still tingles with distant pain, they really should have been more careful the night before. He hadn’t really even realized that he had fallen so hard, but he was certainly starting to feel it. The nighttime painkillers only really accommodate you if you’re actually going to sleep, so Namgyu knows he’s a little dizzy and swaying right now. And he does feel a little all over the place. And, for some reason, not all that willing to go fetch another chair. 

“Well, we have already seen it. We could just.. uh,” Thanos says, and Namgyu realizes he can’t figure out what they can do together. Namgyu notices quickly that there is an energy here. They both don’t want to part, but they feel like they need to be doing something specific to spend time together. Let’s get rid of that immediately. No reason to have a task as an excuse to be together. They both know they just want to.. Namgyu doesn’t know how to categorize it. Saying ‘spend time together’ sounds fucking stupid. But it’s true. They’ve done enough hard tasks in the last couple weeks. The world owes them a million empty days to chat and laze around. 

”Let’s just sit here,” Namgyu decides, trying hard not to appear sleepy with his head injury. Thanos blinks.

”In the stairwell?” Thanos asks, his hand coming down from Namgyu’s head to rest on his back, sort of holding him up. 

“Sure,” Namgyu says. “We can just sit and talk.” 

So they do, they sit down on what must be the platform between the fourth and fifth floor, and it's cold as shit. The cement practically radiates the freeze right through their thin pyjamas, and Namgyu rearranges himself so that he sits sort of on top of his knees. At least then it's his shins taking the brunt of the cold and not his ass. There is just something special and worth it about being out somewhere where they shouldn't, instead of cozy in Namgyu’s uncomfortably small room. 

Thanos brings one knee up to his chest and clasps his hands around it, resting his chin on top of it. He then turns to face Namgyu, and then nods his head towards himself. Namgyu takes the hint and shuffles closer, until he is attached to Thanos’ side. They share their warmth. Thanos adjusts so that Namgyu can let his head fall to Thanos’ shoulder. 

”Have you been thinking much?” Thanos asks, strangely. It takes everything in Namgyu not to pull away just to look at him weirdly. ”Minsu thinks I’m not thinking enough. About what happened.”

”It’ll never be enough for him,” Namgyu says. “Who cares.”

”You’re right,” Thanos responds, with a happy sigh. Like it's exactly what he needed to hear. Namgyu chuckles. It makes Thanos shake too, close as they are. Practically one. 

“You’re so easy to be with,” Thanos tells him, with a certain tone in his voice that makes Namgyu’s heart pulse extra harsh for a couple beats. It does not slip by him how Thanos worded it. Be with, not be around. “And, y’know. Even if you weren’t, even if this was super hard-“

Thanos gestures between them with a lazy hand.

”I don’t think I’d care either. Because it feels so good,” Thanos says. Namgyu knows he must look fucking pathetic, head on Thanos’ shoulder, grinning like an idiot, heart pounding. But it's happening. 

“You think it’ll feel the same way when we get out?” Namgyu asks, knowing what Thanos means exactly and wholly. Their dynamic is unlike anything Namgyu has ever experienced. 

“Duh, Namsu,” Thanos says. “That’s why I want you to come join me wherever I end up going. Touring, studio, I don't know. I kinda just know I want you next to me.”

“Yeah?” Namgyu asks.

”Yeah,” Thanos replies. 

“It's wild I…” Namgyu stops and bites his lip, trying to think about how to word it. “It’s wild how quickly everything felt like it was over.. when I thought you died.”

”It’s not,” Thanos tells him, like he doesn’t already know. And that’s corny as fuck, but it hits Namgyu just right, and he sort of can’t help snuggling in closer. The red glow of the emergency lights flashes over them every few seconds. “I‘d never worried about somebody like that either, you know.”

”Hm?” Namgyu asks.

“The doctors wouldn’t tell me shit. Or maybe, couldn’t. So I just had no idea where you were, or. If you were safe,” Thanos explains, softly. “And I sort of, when I think about how I felt it's like. It’s so crazy because— I never even considered my own life that valuable. You’re just.. different to me, Namgyu.” 

Namgyu brings a hand up to hold Thanos’ cheek, and it's hot to the touch. 

“You’re different to me too,” Namgyu tells him, embarrassingly honestly. “It sounds dumb but.. I feel hopeful with you.” 

Thanos immediately shakes his head, looking down and over at where Namgyu peers up at him on his shoulder. His cheek pressed into the linen of the pyjama top. 

”It's not dumb. I get that same way, like.. you make me feel all ready to go- like- inspired and. Whatever. I just want to go take on the world,” Thanos says. And it's the same exact way Namgyu feels. It’s unreal how closely they align. “And, I’ve always been ambitious or- passionate- I don't know. About my art. But. Success is one thing. You make me want to .. like.. be happy? Whatever that takes?”

Namgyu nods, unable to really respond properly because of just how much Thanos’ words are cutting him open right now. He feels his eyes sting a little bit, god this is humiliating. And Namgyu realizes he waited too long to respond when Thanos trips over his words and starts coughing. His voice can’t feel good to use right now. It’s actually impressive how well he has been doing with it.  

“I feel the same, trust me. It’s so weird,” Namgyu says. “And it's funny because, we sort of.. compliment each other? Most people I talk to.. they want to hear that.. I.. Uh.” Namgyu pauses, as Thanos nods for him to continue, still sort of grunting with the discomfort in his throat. 

“They want to make me better?” Namgyu tries. And Thanos immediately nods. “They want to change me or.. mark me? I don’t know. With you it's like.. we don’t have to do anything. We can just be, and there’s no change involved. At least- I don't feel any pressure. I just feel good. Alive.”

”High?” Thanos asks. Namgyu nods and smiles. 

“Yeah,” Namgyu confirms. 

“Normal people say that they click, Namsu,” Thanos says, bringing his knee down to curl towards Namgyu and bring a hand up to his cheek just as Namgyu holds his. They hold each other’s faces now, just like the night they reunited in this place. “They say things like.. uh.. yeah they click, they’re soulmates, they’re meant to be.”

They both laugh. Namgyu lets his thumb brush lightly across Thanos’ cheek bone. 

“We feel high instead?” Namgyu cracks up. Thanos snorts and nods. 

“It’s all about experiences, my boy,” Thanos says, loosely. “If those people did the shit we did, they’d stop calling it clicking and start calling it a high too.”

”You’re right,” Namgyu laughs. “If they saw what we saw they’d shut the fuck up and let us call it whatever we want.”

Thanos laughs again, and they lean towards each other, even more. Closer and closer until their foreheads are touching. Cradling each other’s faces, knees bumping. The cold cement beneath them gone. Lost in the feeling. 

“Is it bad that.. When I think about the games, it’s easy to reroute myself? To cover up the bad shit with the..” Thanos stops. A hitch in his throat. “I don’t want to say the good shit.. there wasn’t really good shit.”

”There was, though,” Namgyu affirms. “It’s the same for me. When I thought about it- when I first got here. It was torture. I would see your face, your neck, soaked tracksuit, black with your own blood.”

Thanos’ mouth opens, small, shocked.

”But now I just see.. our arms intertwined? Hugging and laughing in that tiny red room when we won at mingle? I feel all floaty again like I did in there, with you. Jumpy and excited and.. I just think about.. what you said. the good shit,” Namgyu explains.

”No see I-“ Thanos laughs. “I avoided saying the good shit. Hundreds of people died in there.”

”We were too high to care,” Namgyu tells him.

”That’s what I told Minsu!” Thanos says. Namgyu laughs. 

“Namgyu I think we’re.. sort of perfect,” Thanos tells him, in that pretty voice that should be saved for the microphone. Namgyu feels his mouth twitch, and his eyes dart down towards Thanos’ lips. Pink, and then a deep red in the blinking emergency light. 

”You trying to say we click?” Namgyu jokes. Thanos laughs, dropping his head briefly, his shoulders shaking. Namgyu laughs to himself too, amused with his own playfulness right now. The overall lightness in the air, the easiness of it all. 

“You trying to come on tour with me?” Thanos counters.

”You have a lot of faith in an album you haven’t even started writing yet,” Namgyu says. “How do you know this’ll be the career-saving drop?” 

“Cuz you’ll be with me, that's how,” Thanos tells him. 

“Jesus Christ, why weren’t you spouting this shit in your notepad?” Namgyu asks, but it's rhetorical. He knows why. He knows that Thanos knows that ‘this shit’ is so unbearably corny that Thanos wouldn’t have been confident enough to immortalize it on paper. This kind of talk is saved only for face to face speaking, with no cameras around. 

Then again. Namgyu thinks back to the shitty little freestyle Thanos did for that Mina girl like two seconds into that first game. That was in front of like four hundred people. So, Namgyu isn’t actually sure where Thanos draws the line in terms of public corniness. 

“Because you didn’t pull away last night. It’s the excuse I needed to fire me up,” Thanos says. And Namgyu feels his face grow hot, remembering the almost-kiss they had on the roof. Had.. almost had? And it's true, he hadn’t pulled away. He had leaned in actually, maybe even more than Thanos had. And if the stupid fucking hospital staff hadn’t interrupted, Namgyu is sure he would have been willing to get fully naked out there under the moon. Fuck any residents of nearby taller buildings. They could feast their eyes for all Namgyu cared. Which was not at all.

“You going to start writing verses for me?” Namgyu asks. 

“Depends,” Thanos shrugs, and he squeezes at Namgyu’s cheek. “You going to feature on the album cover?”

”Nooo fucking way,” Namgyu laughs, and its a half gasp, half sentence. He’s not really sure there’s any air left in him after that suggestion. Absolutely not. “Are you fucking crazy?” 

“Well we ARE both in the psych ward, babe,” Thanos says. And Namgyu has to look down and away from him before he actually explodes at the use of another pet name. It’s actually painful. Namgyu knows if Thanos was anybody else this would drive him up the wall. God forbid he saw a random couple in public talking to each other like this, he would lose his fucking mind. He’d probably throw his cigarette at them. 

“You’re.. hah..” Namgyu can’t even find the words. 

“So you thought more about coming on tour with me?” Thanos asks.

”Back to this, huh?” Namgyu asks, practically a whisper at this point. They’re so close together they barely have to use their voices to hear each other. Out of happiness for having recovered his, however, Thanos continues to speak at a good volume. Intimate as the tone is. Namgyu knows he’s being sort of coy, he could admit to him that the whole walk to the stairwell he had been visualizing them together in that way. Namgyu as his partner in success.   

“Of course,” Thanos says. “I just keep thinking about you there with me at the gigs and stuff. It looks so good in my head. Plus.. its not like you have..”

”Don’t you dare,” Namgyu laughs.

”It’s not like you have much else to do.. unless you got a really cool boss who would take you back after going no contact for weeks,” Thanos says, completely ignoring the request. Namgyu sighs.

”I don’t think people use the term ‘going no contact’ for boss-employee relationships,” Namgyu says, snottily. 

“Well, if you become my assistant I sure don't want you to go no contact in our boss-employee relationship. In fact I’d approve of all contact. Extra contact,” Thanos says, so quick with it that it is almost stunning. Namgyu laughs, incredulously. It’s so engaging how Thanos teeters the line between being charismatic and being a bit of a himbo. It’s like he picks and chooses when to use his smarts. Namgyu can appreciate that. There is a certain level of humbleness that comes with choosing your battles wisely. A guy who can step back and accept that he’s a little blank sometimes is perfectly good for Namgyu. As is somebody who can play with words a little bit. And, being that Thanos is a rapper, Namgyu realizes he shouldn’t be surprised that he is good with his words. 

“If I come on tour, I don't really want my role to be assistant. Maybe on paper, but. Don’t like- call on me like.. oh this is Namgyu, my assistant,”  Namgyu rambles. Although he does distinctly remember labelling himself the assistant in his dreamy vision of it all. 

“No way, no of course. It was just an example,” Thanos says. “I love that we’re already on the logistics, though. Feels good to plan it out, huh? That sounded like a yes to me.” 

“Yes, when you drop your nonexistent album I’ll be sure to tag along on the nonexistent tour,” Namgyu says. They’re both smiling, they must look like idiots. 

“You spend any more time reading that book?” Thanos asks.

”Honestly? No. My head hurts when I look at the words,” Namgyu says. Subconsciously bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his head. The one that isn’t holding Thanos’ face, of course. 

“I was gonna ask about that,” Thanos says. “It’s from when we fell? When you were on my shoulders?” 

Thanos’ fingers, on the hand that isn’t holding Namgyu by the cheek, trail up to dance at the back of his head. Namgyu shivers again, and nods. 

“I’m so sorry,” Thanos says, softly. “I swore I heard a crack but you got up so easily.. I thought I must’ve been hearing things.” 

“Oh it's.. it's whatever,” Namgyu says, dismissively. And he can’t help but think that hearing an apology from Thanos sounds oddly pretty. “I’m just a little dizzy.”   

“No it.. it sounded like it hurt, Namsu,” Thanos says, as he caresses the wound on the back of Namgyu’s head, super carefully. Feeling at the staples with the lightest touch Namgyu thinks he has ever felt. If it's even a feeling at all. He almost thinks Thanos’ fingers aren’t actually making contact, and it's just that anticipation feeling that’s making Namgyu all shivery. Thanos pulls back a little and smiles. “You want me to kiss it better?” 

“Can we just.. can we simplify that?” Namgyu asks, eyes dipping down to Thanos’ lips again.

”You just want to kiss?” Thanos asks, low. Namgyu breathes through his nose, purses his lips, and nods slowly. 

“I want to kiss you too, Namgyu,” Thanos says, bringing his other hand up to hold Namgyu’s head, his palm making contact with the wound, causing it to buzz in a funny way. It tingles, it feels cold and warm all at once. Namgyu raises his head just slightly, lets his other hand come up, placing it on Thanos’ chest. He feels warm through the shirt, Namgyu can even feel his heart beating against his hand. ”Wanted to in the games, too. When you came and joined me in that tiny bed. Just wanted to.. feel you again, Know you again.”

”You remember much of the club?” Namgyu asks, barely audible. Thanos shakes his head, just slightly. 

“I want to. I wanted to so bad. Holding you against me in the games felt so normal, so right, Namsu. I knew that I.. I knew that I knew it once before,” Thanos says. “It was so nice to have you in there. Feel your warmth at the end of those insane days. It kept me going just as much as the pills did.” Thanos says. 

”I felt the same,” Namgyu admits. “When you were gone… I lost it. I slept in your bed. Did I tell you that?” 

Thanos doesn’t say anything, and if his hand had dropped from Namgyu’s face, or if his eyes had drifted away— Namgyu might’ve thought he overstepped. Might have felt a hint of shame about blurting that out. But he really couldn’t recall, had he already told Thanos that he stayed in his bed after he ‘died?’ Did he explain to him on one of these nightly talks? That the soldiers had come to remove it, that they had seen him there, blankly looked at each other. A moment of humanity under their hard sculpted masks, they had shrugged and said nothing else, opting to leave instead of removing a different bed in place of it? Did Namgyu tell him that when he returned from keys and knives, Thanos’ bed was gone? Did he explain to Thanos that the cold had really set in then, along with the sweating and the debilitating headache of withdrawals, when he noticed the cross was gone? Noticed the bed was gone? Noticed that he now had truly nothing left of the man he grew so close to?   

“You slept in my bed?” Thanos asks, barely above a whisper. His raspy, pained voice sounds full of something else now. Something truer and thicker than any of his cocky charming words from before. An unidentifiable vulnerability just past his teeth, sitting bare on his tongue. The true surprise. Where else would Namgyu have gone?

”Just for one night. Then they.. took you away,” Namgyu says, pretty much under his breath at this point.

”No..” Thanos tells him, coming impossibly closer. “I’m right here.”

And then, they close the gap between them. Pushing forward equally and meeting in the middle with some strange kind of perfection. And it feels just like Namgyu thought it should. The cold ground beneath them, already numb and far away, disappears further, replaced only with blackness. The red light blinking over them disappears too, as both of their eyes flutter shut. The only thing they feel is the pressure against each other, the insistent press of lips on lips, shifting and gasping and then going in again. Thanos adjusts Namgyu’s head just slightly, with his hand, letting it slip just down enough to grab Namgyu’s chin, twist him, tilt him. Their noses angle around each other like puzzle pieces, and— somehow, in the middle of all of the feelings, Namgyu feels the giggly surprise of the tidiness. 

He can’t believe it, as he brings a hand up to scrape through Thanos’ dry dye-destroyed hair. Ruffling it and scratching at his scalp with what one might call desperation. It’s more playful, when it comes from Namgyu, who can’t help tilting his eyebrows down even during something like this. It should be messier, it should be less than what it is. But it is clean and meaningful and full. It feels like a turning point. It feels like a waterfall cascading over your shoulders, bare in a pretty mountain stream. It feels like music squeezing out of an old cd player, skipping at times, but persevering and delivering the sweetest, softest tune. It feels like laundry drying on a line outside, flapping back and forth in the intense wind of an open field. It feels like the lights coming on in one of those holiday towns, blinking colours through a layer of sparkling snow. It feels so clean and new and fresh, to hold each other like this and meet each other like this. Namgyu can see all of Thanos, all of Subong, even through his closed eyelids. Through their touch.

Thanos lets out a small groan, opening his mouth to breathe, Namgyu as well, open against each other. Hot breath warming them in this empty place. And they meet again, in a pillowy collision, as Thanos rakes his coloured fingernails along Namgyu’s shoulders, one hand still cradling his face. Namgyu hums into it, leans his whole body further, straightening out and making sure every part of himself is touching every part of Thanos. Namgyu pushes harder, they shuffle backwards. On their knees, basically crawling towards the corner. Namgyu presses in, letting his hands both come to rest against Thanos’ chest, and he pushes him downwards, crawls in between his legs, climbs him. Thanos’ back against the wall, sliding down a little bit, Namgyu essentially on top of him, in his lap, all folded together. And they breathe again, meet again, breathe again, meet again. And then it begins to blend together, the meeting and the breathing, and then the licks start happening during the breathing, and their mouths stay open during the meeting. And it all becomes a part of itself. They hum and moan and huff and claw at each other. It’s the most intense kiss Namgyu has ever shared. It’s as much of a conflict as it is a team effort. It’s sobriety. It's a high. All at once, together, in the stairwell of the hospital. 

Chapter Text

“Are they serious?” The victim services officer asks as she gazes down at the security camera footage. The two of them, the problem patients, cuddled up in a random corner of the stairwell, kissing like the world was about to end. 

Nobody responds, the nursing staff that accompany her at the various surveillance cams all glance at each other, awkward expressions on their faces. The officer looks back down at the screen, the kissing having only intensified in the short time she hadn’t been watching.

”Are they serious?” She repeats herself, then she watches for a moment more, attempting to blink the hysteria away. It doesn’t leave, and she stands up and takes a step back from the collection of screens. She runs a hand through her hair. “Al- alright. Turn it off. This is- this is weird we shouldn’t be-“

”We can’t just let them..?” The security guard tries, looking tired, telling the officer all she needs to know about his usual work routine. If the staff hadn’t bust in here to ask to check his cameras, odds are he’d be snoozing about now. He sits in his rolling chair with an odd look, his eyebags drooping impossibly low. “Shouldn’t you keep an eye? If you’re not going to go fetch them?” 

“Have you seen them come out of their rooms and do this on other nights?” The head nurse asks, his voice hiding a somewhat large lump of anger. It sounds thick and uncomfortable. Like a sickness. The security guard looks as though he has the cold sweats, he shoots up straight in his chair, tense and wide-eyed. 

“I already told you! I would have reported it if I had seen something prior to last night.. Only reason I caught them was because the hatch to the roof tripped an alarm. I got notified,” The security guard says.

”Well this certainly doesn’t look like just the second time they’ve done this,” One of the other nurses says, adjusting the hairclip keeping long bangs out of the way. She then keeps her hand up and looks away from the screen, allowing her palm to act as a divider between herself and the images on the screen. The officer does the same, fully turning around and leaning against the table where the monitors sit. She feels like a creep watching this. 

“I’d argue that they probably looked just as comfortable sneaking out the first time,” The officer sighs. The hairclip nurse nods and frowns in a way that reads ‘good point’.

The whole plan had been to catch them in the act. How else were they to figure out how they had snuck out the previous night? Apparently, according to the head nurse, the two of them had been found hanging out on the roof of the hospital. With no keys or lock picks or any objects that could have been used to get the job done. It had made no sense at all, and despite multiple pat-downs and examinations— the staff had not been able to pinpoint just how they managed to get through multiple locked doors up to the roof. 

So. Take over for the nighttime security guard and watch the surveillance from lights out. See what happens. See for themselves what weird strategy they might be using to escape their locked rooms. Heavy metal doors, might the officer add. They came in to find the security guard leaning with his chin in his hand, elbow on the table, eyes nearing shut, gazing at a camera that showed the back entrance of the pediatric wing. 

Useless.

They had woken him with some hushed voices, explaining the situation, reminding him of the two they had caught on the roof the previous night. Thanks to him. Although, it would have been pretty ridiculous if that roof hatch alarm hadn’t woken him up to alert them. He did the bare minimum, and now he was about to miss the same patients sneaking out and doing it again. They joined him in the dark surveillance room, pulling up chairs to the monitors, all looking over his shoulder at the various cams displaying the psych ward. 

They hadn’t seen anything until about an hour after lights out. Right after the hourly check, Namgyu had come tiptoeing out of his room like a scene from Tom and Jerry. A sly cat ready to set a trap. They had all held their breath watching him slink through the hallway, towards the welcome desk. In the night vision, he was little more than a ghost. He clutched that cross of his in one hand, tight. But no key. How the hell did he unlock his own door?

Then, instead of continuing on to the welcome desk and trying to sneak into the office or something like that— he had stopped at Subong and Minsu’s room. He had glanced between the two doors for a moment, seemingly unsure of which belonged to his friend and which belonged to his strangling victim. He eventually zeros-in on Subong’s door and brings his little cross up to his face. He squints in the dim light, and the staff around the officer all take in a collective gasp as Namgyu pops it open.

”It’s a case?!” The head nurse whisper-yells, as though Namgyu may hear them through the cameras. “What!”

”What's inside it? A key?” Hairclip nurse ponders, her voice shaky with disbelief. 

Namgyu pulls a key from the case, and it gleams white in the night vision. You have got to be joking.

”Where? How did he even get that?” The officer had asked, as they all watched Namgyu unlock and open Subong’s door. A moment later slipping out of the room with him and stumbling down the hall with their hands clasped together. 

“Why didn’t you tell us his cross could open up?!” The head nurse asks, that anger that had been sitting down beneath his voice now coming up in an explosive growl. 

“I didn’t know!” The officer responds, glaring at the nurse. However discombobulated he may be by these two deliberately breaking the rules once again- right after being caught- it was no reason to take it out on her. They were lucky she had had enough free time to drop by and help them out with this. 

They had watched with confusion as Namgyu and Subong had essentially skipped through the halls together. Whatever great sadness that the officer thought should be plaguing them after such a horrific experience, it is nowhere to be found in their togetherness. In their partnership, it seems as though all falls to the side. Even the simple task of being told to stay in their rooms. 

It’s hopeful. And she’s sure the nursing staff doesn’t understand this point of view, but this kind of eager, harmless joy is exactly what the officer needs to see. It comes only from people who want to do more and see more. People who are done looking at life as though it's already over. The officer has not seen this kind of happiness on Namgyu’s face. Even through the fuzzy capture of the hospital cameras, she can see it. Brighter, healthier, more alive than ever. 

While one might expect a person wanting to heal to listen closely, follow all the rules, and stay in line. People like Namgyu need a different kind of normalcy. Perhaps something more similar to the routine of his life before. Namgyu had never appeared to be somebody who would wake up at the same time each day, take a walk, have a coffee, hit the gym, etc. He seems like somebody who flies on a whim. Leaves his house in the middle of the night if he wishes to. Comes home in the morning after picking up a random shift at that club that was listed in his papers. He seems like somebody who sleeps til noon, or smokes at 8am. 

And while those habits, that schedule, or lack thereof, may seem unhealthy. And arguably is unhealthy— and would be the wrong way to go were Namgyu alone— it's a good sign. It is a great sign because he is holding somebody’s hand, and they are doing it together. It tells the officer that whatever hopelessness that had swallowed him up over the course of his stay in the games, and in this place too— it had spit him back out again. It had given him another chance. His life, clear as day in its messiness, had disappeared into the gullet of a strong and unforgiving trauma. Now, it had bloomed again, with the bright purple petals of this other survivor. 

If Namgyu were alone, sneaking out and heading up to the roof would be alarming. Infinitely more alarming than this. But if he were alone, the officer suspects he wouldn’t be doing it. He would be curled up in his dark room, awake with no sleep. He would be snapping at people, attacking people like he had on the first day. Begging her to let him out. None of that is happening anymore, because he has a rock. The officer had watched as the two of them shivered with laughter and successfully opened the stairwell door. All over each other as though they had known each other forever. Impossibly comfortable. More loose and smiley than the officer had thought possible from Namgyu. 

They had switched to the stairwell cams and regularly switched up and up and up as they climbed. Each camera nestled in the corner, beneath the next platform up, hanging under it, easy to spot. They must know. 

“They’re stopping here?” The security guard had asked, when they had curled up together on the floor. Nowhere near the roof hatch. A few floors away. 

“I don’t..” The head nurse had said, shaking his head, hand cupping over his mouth, lost in thought. 

And then they had started making out, probably well aware of the cameras they were in perfect view of. 

Facing away, the officer knows that they must still be going at it, because the security guard is watching intently, face growing redder by the second.

”How long have they been spending time together?” The officer asks, feeling lighter, all of the sudden. She can tell that the hospital staff are feeling completely disrespected by the rule-breakers, and that they’re having trouble seeing the bright side of this situation. But the officer really can’t help but look at this turn of events with optimism. They’re not trying to do anything crazy like adjust their documents or, steal something. They’re just sneaking out together to kiss in a secluded space. That’s as alive as one can be. 

“Well.. they say they knew each other from the games. They both got a lot more bubbly once they knew they were in here together,” The nurse wearing the hairclip says, still blocking the screens from her vision. “It must have been.. their third full day here? A couple days ago. They hugged in the therapy room and started acting all buddy buddy. Like a highschool reunion.”

”Hmm,” The officer says. “I didn’t know Subong was close with Namgyu.”

She can’t help but think back to their conversation. It had been their second day when the officer had come to see him. And Namgyu had been lost and depressed. He had been angry and unwilling to share much of anything. He had only discussed his palpable hatred for the third games survivor that was in the ward, Minsu. And then he had furiously ranted about how little the officer knew. Which. Was fair enough. The officer could say she was equally frustrated about that. She really did not have enough information to properly accommodate Namgyu that day. Here and now, she knows a little more about what went on. But it still feels miniscule. 

That day when she had come to check in on him, the staff had informed her of a vulnerable few sentences Namgyu had shared in that day 1 therapy session. An ironic amount of honesty had spilled out, despite it having taken place directly after he had tackled Minsu into a choke out. Namgyu had talked to that room full of people, admittedly quite briefly, about the ‘friend’ he had lost in the games. He had described how angry he felt, about some people being able to escape, and others dying on the island. He had been upset about one person in particular, that much was clear. And it had bled into everything he did. Everything he thought about. Where he was in his life, it all connected back to this one person he had supposedly seen perish.

It all seemed to disappear now. This anger, this frustration with the injustice. It was as if that person had in fact come back from the dead.

And.. well. Maybe he had. 

“Do you recall that therapy session from Namgyu’s first full day?” The officer brings it up. The nursing staff looks at her strangely. Their eyes appear buggy, likely feeling completely puzzled by what they’ve just witnessed. ”He talked about how he lost somebody. A friend.”

”Uh. Yeah. I remember the report from the counsellor who lead that meeting,” The head nurse says. “He said he was very upset that he made it out when his friend didn’t. Something like that. Probably a guilt complex.”

”I think it was actually more so that Minsu made it out, and his friend didn’t- but that's besides the point,” The officer says. “I think Subong. Subong is that friend.”

”Hm?” The hairclip nurse prompts the officer to continue. 

“There were a lot of victims. We didn’t have the ability to keep up with everyone that was hospitalized. We could only focus on our specific assigned cases. We weren’t able to relay information about potential friends who had also been rescued, do you understand what I’m saying?” The officer rambles. The nurses expressions slowly changing as she continues to speak. 

“Namgyu thought Subong was killed, but he was actually rescued?” The hairclip nurse asks. 

“Exactly,” The officer says. “I think it’s given him a new hope.”

”Rejuvination?” The head nurse asks, softly, glancing back at the screen for a half a second, before wincing and turning away.

”Yes,” The officer nods. “I think, if there is anything we can do to support this relationship, we should.”

“You don’t think it’s problematic?” The hairclip nurse asks.

”The sneaking out is, sure. But, tell me. How much of a positive change has there been in their daily attitudes after being reunited?”  The officer asks. 

“We actually noticed it the second it happened. That morning they were immediately different,”The hairclip nurse says. “Happier, more compliant. Talkative, even.” 

“They have been through the same thing. They know exactly how the other is feeling. And they know each other,” The officer says. “Obviously i don’t condone this kind of behaviour—“

she pauses to gesture to the screens. 

“The kissing?” The security guard asks, dumbly. 

“No the-“ The officer pinches her nose. “The sneaking around. I don’t condone the sneaking around. But, I saw Namgyu right after his rescue. I’ve never seen him this light. He looks like a weight has seriously been lifted off of him.”

”They’re good for each other right now,” The hairclip nurse agrees. “Even the doctor who saved Subong in the games said so.” 

“The doctor?” The officer asks, thinking she may have heard incorrectly. 

“He’s on your team of.. uh. Your agency? Whatever branch of policing you guys are. He was there, on the island. He came to visit and see how Subong was. He’s the one who didn’t let that neck injury take him out,” The hairclip nurse explains. “He said it would be good for Namgyu and Subong to continue to be around each other.” 

“Well we can’t just let this slide..” The head nurse says, it's more of a mutter, really. He seems frustrated. He is pointedly looking away from the screen too. “We should confiscate the keys, and maybe the cross too. If they want to spend time together, they can do so under supervision and daylight.”

”Fair enough,” The officer says. “I want to meet with Namgyu today and get a better idea of where he’s at. Based on how he was feeling on day 2, I was pretty sure we were going to have to keep him here for longer. But..”

“He seems better to you?” The hairclip nurse suggests.

”Don’t you think the same?” The officer responds, with a small shrug. The hairclip nurse nods. 

“You think he’s doing well enough to leave after the seventh day? Like you had planned originally?” The hairclip nurse asks. 

“Mm. Maybe. It depends on what I determine when I meet him one on one,” The officer says, rubbing at her chin pensively. “He did attack Minsu only a handful of days ago.”

”It was his first day.. he may have been feeling out of sorts,” The head nurse says, shockingly. The hairclip nurse seems extra surprised by this change of heart.

“You just want him out of here,” she says, his eyebrows furrowing downward. The head nurse looks offended. 

“We’ve already talked about this! I wouldn’t-“ He tries. The officer interrupts. 

“I actually agree. The place they were kept, it was a breeding ground for violence. They were encouraged to hurt each other. I think the transition back to the expectations of normal life was difficult,” The officer says. 

“Yeah… that makes sense..” Hairclip nurse backs down, grabbing at her arm awkwardly. 

“So there’s hope for both of them to leave on the original timeline?” The head nurse asks, sounding eerily hopeful. While she doesn’t doubt that he wants the best for his patients, the officer can’t help but think the hairclip nurse may have the right idea. Seems like the head nurse is tired of dealing with both Namgyu and Subong. In his defense, the officer imagines it must be difficult to have multiple patients working together to repeatedly break out of their rooms at night when there are less staff on the clock. Nonetheless, an early discharge could be a massive mistake.

”..Tomorrow,” The head nurse starts. “Tomorrow you can meet with Namgyu. I’ll call Subong’s victim services team to come check on him as well. Minsu has been on the right track, frankly. I don’t think we have to be worried about him leaving in a couple of days..”

”Should we organize a recreational therapy session tomorrow, as well? Maybe they’re just.. feeling antsy. I would too, if I were stuck like this,” The hairclip nurse says. 

“Yes, yes rec therapy is a good idea,” The head nurse says. 

”So then.. do we go.. go interrupt and..?” The hairclip nurse asks, all of them pointedly looking away from the screens. They have to end this, obviously. It’s not safe for them to be out of their rooms and away in the stairwells alone. No matter what they’re getting up to. Not to mention how wholly inappropriate it is for the poor security guard. 

“Can you speak through the cameras?” The officer asks, leaning over the guard’s chair, one hand resting on the backrest. 

“Uh.. some of them, yes,” The security guard nods, shaken and eyes darting all around to avoid the monitors. The officer looks for permission from the head nurse, who nods, and then the officer gestures for the security guard to go ahead and find whatever microphone button they may have to activate. “They’re hooked up to the intercom.”  

“They should be able to hear you now,” The guard whispers, as he holds down a button on his control system. The officer looks once more for permission from the head nurse, who sighs and places his hands on his hips before nodding again.

”Ahem!” The officer coughs, directly into an outdated microphone. In her periphery, the officer can see Namgyu and Subong jump apart from one another, hands on each other’s shoulders, but faces now notably disconnected. They look around wildly, scanning their dark surroundings for the voice. Unfortunately, the team in the security room can’t hear through the cameras, so they’re forced to only guess what the two are saying when their lips begin to move. The officer is expecting embarrassment, fear, or some other feelings of the same family. But, they appear to be talking relatively calmly as they squint in the dark, trying to spot the camera. The officer leans forward again. “Namgyu, Subong, we are going to give you this one chance to go back to your rooms peacefully. Or else you will once again be forcefully escorted.” 

The embarrassment, shame, and fear does not manifest on their faces in any form. Instead, their features curl up into what have to be full-body cackles. The two of them begin to squirm and grab at their stomachs as they laugh. Within a minute, both of the patients are rolling on the ground laughing. Laughing through teary eyes that flash in the high whites of the night vision. The officer stares, blankly, unimpressed as it goes on and on. The nurses next to her, perhaps embarrassed at the state of things in their workplace, both hold their faces in their palms. The security guard has the audacity to let out a small snort, breaking the silence. 

Just when it appears that they have calmed down enough to be reminded of their task, the officer watches as they once again break out into deranged laughter. Kicking and rocking back and forth like animals, mouths wide and smiling, eyes squeezed shut and tears now streaming down pale faces. The officer feels her mouth flatten into a line, feels the tension of the workers in the room with her, all having accepted the insanity of the current situation. The officer rolls her eyes and brings the archaic microphone to her lips again.

”Last chance. Go to your rooms or we are coming to you. Either way we’re taking those keys off of you,” The officer warns. Namgyu and Subong freeze solid for a moment, looking at each other with big wide eyes and hands stuck in the air like dolls, listening to the loudspeaker. Then, after a second, they start rolling again. Whole bodies writhing almost akin to pain of death. The officer watches as Namgyu rapidly kicks his legs back and forth, tumbling backwards like a teen girl laughing on the phone. And then, glancing over at Subong, who has a palm against the wall, leaning over on his knees, hair hanging over his face, looking as though he might vomit from laughing so hard. 

“Oh my god..” The head nurse mutters, under his breath, once again looking away from the screen for his own sake.

“Fucking ridiculous,” The officer says. And just as she is about to speak to them again, she watches as Namgyu shakily gets up, and then turns on wobbly legs, still laughing. He yanks at the collar of Subong’s pj shirt, and sort of hauls him upwards, Subong complying and lifting himself as well. Then, arms around each other’s shoulders, glued to each others’ sides— they stumble to the edge of the platform, and head down the stairs out of view of the camera. All the while with the same smiles on their faces, bodies still jolting with near violent giggles. 

“I mean- have you ever seen anything like it?” The head nurse asks, gesturing at the now empty stairwell. The security guard presses a button to skim through the cameras finding them at the bottom of the stairwell, heading towards the door they had unlocked. They come out, Namgyu’s room greeting them on the left as they switch cameras once again to the one above the water cooler. The big windows showcasing the courtyard provide much more light. The whites and greys all bleed together in fuzzy pixels in this section of the hallway. Obscuring their faces. The officer can only assume they still look happy as they practically limp towards Namgyu’s door together, shoulders still shaking. Their silhouettes blend together for a brief moment at Namgyu’s door, a goodbye kiss in the moonlight. Then, Namgyu unlocks his own door and heads inside, before spinning around and dropping the keys into Subong’s palm. This time alone instead of encased in the cross. 

“At least they’re listening,” The hairclip nurse points out. “Surely that’s some improvement?”

They watch through the next camera down as Subong returns to his own room, flipping one of the keys in his hand like a coin, carelessly. And he walks with the loose stroll of a man running for a morning coffee. He walks with the relaxed posture of a man with a partner. 

”Is it strange that I’m sort of.. it's nice.. to see them this way? I’m happy for them,” The hairclip nurse says, when nobody replies to her.  

“As.. unconventional as this whole thing is,” The head nurse says. “Seeing any struggling patients discover a new happiness is always a good experience.”

”There’s no pride here, though,” The hairclip nurse admits, as they watch Subong unlock his own door, jiggling with it for a second or two. “Nothing we’ve done for them has made this happen. It’s actually.. it's everything they’ve done to deviate from our program. That made them happy.”  

 “I suppose then,” The head nurse infers. “We should focus, these next couple days, entirely on their individual journeys. Allow them time together, but make sure that- were something to happen- they are still wanting to take on the world in an optimistic way. With or without each other. We can’t foster codependency.” 

“That’s an excellent point,” The hairclip nurse says, thoughtfully. “We should make sure they have internal sources of motivation, and external ones that aren’t just each other. As much as they may help each other, they have to want to live and be happy on their own too.”

”It’s not healing if it's only suffering together,” The officer agrees. 

“Well put. Then it's just stagnancy,” The hairclip nurse says, with an index finger on her chin.

”Much to think about, it sounds like,” The officer says. “I don’t envy you folks. It’s a difficult case.”

”There will be a lot to monitor,” The head nurse confirms, crossing his arms over his chest. “We have to remember not to get sucked up in whatever joy they are sparking in each other. As lovely as it is that they have someone to rely on and relate to, they need to be independently ready.” 

The officer has to remind herself, as she leaves the place and allows for the nurses to carry out their pat downs and key confiscation, that this is not a detention center. Namgyu and Subong are patients struggling with a traumatic situation they have just been rescued from. They are not, as the officer sees it, criminals. With the way the hospital staff have been relaying information to her over the course of the week, it is easy to get lost in the idea that these people are beyond saving. But who wouldn’t be acting up in a place like this, after being saved from a place like that? It seems like only the obvious roll of events. It seems like the clear line of action. Of course they would step out of line, they’d been kept in line via guns and threats for a miserable week of their lives. 

The officer waves goodbye to the bug-eyed nurse at the welcome desk, who looks to be stretching her neck to look down the hallway at Subong being lead out of his room for a pat down. The officer, with her back on the ward, thinks about the implications of Namgyu and Subong’s issues here. Sneaking out, running amok, is it necessarily what they are here to correct? Correct is the wrong word. See? Everybody, everybody is looking at this wrong. Nurses included. From the moment Namgyu jumped at Minsu, they’ve been looking at Namgyu and Subong like something aside from traumatized victims. 

Point is- Subong and Namgyu likely lived lives full of sneaking around. Long before their trip to the island. They are here to heal from their experience in the games. They are not here to change anything about themselves that the staff here deem additionally worrisome. The sneaking around, the rule breaking- it’s not what Subong and Namgyu are here to evolve from. If anything, the extraordinary amount of choosing they have been doing— the exercising of their own will— the teamwork— it's all been good news. As frustrating as that may be. This is not a correctional facility. This is not a punishment. And this is not a place that stacks up the actions of patients to come to a new verdict. This is a place that should be analyzing the patients’ actions and determining what they mean. The evolution Subong and Namgyu are looking for seems to have already occurred. That being the willingness to go on. 

Fact is, there has been no violence since that first day. Since before they were reunited. Since all of that anger and guilt fled from Namgyu’s body upon seeing his friend again. The Namgyu that needed healing, needed this place, was the Namgyu that reportedly shivered in bed all night alone, and hardly moved a muscle during the day. The Namgyu that attacked Minsu in the garden. The one that put his heart on his sleeve, albeit snappily, in the group meeting. That was the struggling Namgyu. The one the officer met in the back of the ambulance, in that marina. The one the officer spoke to only a few days ago. This, right now, right here, today.. this is a different Namgyu. A Namgyu that, had the officer met on the night of the ship returning to the mainland, would have deemed safe to return home. 

The officer thinks that Namgyu hasn’t needed healing since the second he was reunited with Subong.

And she’ll respect the nurses opinions in a couple days, and she’ll take into account their concerns if they think Namgyu shouldn’t be discharged. But as the officer sees it, Namgyu is ready to go home. The officer put Namgyu in here for a reason. And she doesn’t want that reason to be misunderstood and morphed by the staff here. While the rule-breaking may be concerning for a patient with a different history, it's not why Namgyu was sent here. He was sent here only to overcome the paralyzing trauma of his experience in the games. While the rule-breaking may be concerning, and in general most of the time more than enough reason to keep a patient for much longer, for Namgyu— it is not an indication of any of the various factors that sent him here. He is no longer actively grieving for a person as he is for his rest, his comfort, his stability. All of that will come. Fact of the matter is that Namgyu is dealing with a lot less pain and stress than he was when he was admitted. 

The officer stops in the middle of the hallway, just about at the exit of the ward, the doors to the greater hospital await ahead. She turns on her heel and walks back towards the welcome desk. The darkness of midnight in the psych ward is a sterile and somber darkness, but the officer has a pep in her step.

She comes around the corner and tries to ignore the strange eyebrow raise the nurse at the desk gives her upon noticing her return. She hangs a right and watches as Subong hands over the keys to the head nurse. And she watches as the head nurse proceeds to point at them, his whispered speech becoming audible as the officer gets closer. A scolding unlike any other, no doubt. 

“May I speak to Namgyu before i leave?” The officer requests, in a soft spoken voice. The interruption draws the head nurse’s eyebrows together in a tight knit. The skin of his forehead wrinkling up and aging him several years. Subong tilts his head curiously at the mention of his friend, likely wondering who the officer is. 

“You’re still here,” The head nurse says. And it was probably supposed to be a question, but the observation is just as useless. The officer nods. The head nurse glances at Subong a little awkwardly, then scratches his neck with the hand that doesn’t hold the keys. “I suppose. But we shouldn’t facilitate a later night than necessary. He should really be getting to sleep.” 

“I’ll be fast. His room is at the end of the hallway?” The victims services officer asks, although she saw the number and location right on the cameras. The head nurse nods and gestures for her to go on ahead, handing over the associated key.

She does, and on the way, she decides she actually doesn’t care what the nurses say in a couple of days. She actually doesn’t care at all. She sent Namgyu here, and she can take him out. If this conversation goes as she is expecting it to, Namgyu will go home when the week ends. Signature from his mother or not. Unrest from his nurses or not.

She knocks on his door only to be polite, before jamming the key in the door and heading inside. 

“Hello Namgyu,” She says.

”You?” He asks, sat up in bed, wincing at the light coming in from the courtyard windows behind her. She’s surprised that he can even recognize her with such horrific lighting. 

“Yes hello. I’m going to turn on your bedroom light, so close your eyes if you need to,” She warns, allowing him to sigh and cover his eyes before she flicks the light on. The warmth of the room is suddenly overwhelming, and it takes her a moment of squinting too for her eyes to adjust properly, the sting lessening in a matter of moments. Namgyu also lets his hands fall into his lap, eyes blinking open after a second or three of staring at pink lit up eyelids. 

”How are you?” The officer asks, deciding to come inside and close the door. There is no extra chair in here for a multitude of reasons, so she settles for standing in her most unintimidating stance. Namgyu doesn’t look like he could care less how she stands either way. “You may be surprised what my conclusion is.”

”That I’m staying here forever? Maybe set to transfer to a high-security prison?” Namgyu sasses, familiarly. “hardly surprising.”

The difference is palpable. There is a lightness in his voice, a bubble in his throat like he could burst out laughing at any moment. The seriousness, the bitterness, it's gone. The shaky unsure, biting dog that was Namgyu on the night of his rescue. He is gone entirely.  This is an act. This is a show. This is a personal performance. Namgyu's lips twitch, threatening to bend into a smile. He looks like a child that remembered a funny word. He looks nothing like the mourning person he had been mere days ago. When the smiles were put-on, coverups, resentful and sour. This almost-smile is silly. Carefree. Devious, sure, but that seems to only be the personality. Not the result of trauma. Just as the officer had thought. Hoped.   

”Not at all what I was going to say,” The officer tells him, happy to see his momentary surprise. Followed by a confused squint. “You’ll be leaving on the seventh day as was discussed initially.”

”..What?” Namgyu asks, looking genuinely shocked. Another moment of authenticity that only works to set her decision into stone. ”How-but-? I’ve broken like.. every rule? Over and over?” 

“Mm. I didn’t really send you here to mould you into obedience, Namgyu. Much less change your lifestyle. However problematic I personally see it.” The officer says, not unkindly. “You’re here to heal. From what I’ve seen, you have.”

She watches as he gapes, mouth opening and closing a couple times like a caught fish gazing down at the green lake water. 

“Don’t get me wrong. Once you’re out, you’ll still be obligated to attend in person group meetings with fellow victims of the games,” She says, with both palms facing him. And where the Namgyu of before would have groaned and rolled his eyes, curled in on himself, tilted his body towards the wall, thrown all of her papers in the air— this one only blinks owlishly. “And I’m not saying you have completely overcome your experience, not at all. Healing is a life long commitment. Growing is a life long commitment. But the difference is that you seem to be willing to commit now. There is a life waiting for you.”

She takes a breath, Namgyu waits patiently. 

“One that I wasn’t sure you were ever going to show up for, when I sent you here. A life I wasn't sure you’d take up,” She admits. “A life that will have waited long enough for you, come two days time.”

”You’re serious?” Namgyu asks. “What about Thanos?” 

“There are plenty of victims out there much worse off than yourself,” The officer tells him. “You’re perfectly set as of now to head out and heal in the comfort of your own home. Namgyu, to be perfectly honest with you, the drugs in your system did not help in determining a plan for you. They were the tipping point that landed you here after your screening.” 

“You think I’m good? Just like that?” Namgyu asks, looking a little incredulous. And a lot a bit happy. “And Thanos?” 

“As far as I know, he was to be released on day seven regardless,” The officer says.

”Even though we snuck out a bunch of times?” Namgyu raises a brow. 

“Frankly that just has nothing to do with your recovery,” The officer says. “You’ve been horribly difficult for the nurses, but your sneaking out does not tell me that you’re in the same place as you were before. Quite the opposite.” 

“Us sneaking out.. makes you think we’re better?” Namgyu repeats.

”You’re simplifying it, there is a lot on your face and in your voice that tells me you’re ‘better’ as you put it,” The officer smiles. Satisfyingly, there is once again a smile targeting the corners of Namgyu’s mouth as well. He struggles to keep it down. Clearly overjoyed at the prospect of leaving with his friend. His transparency is in itself a great sign. The vulnerability of his evident excitement is exactly what the officer had been hoping to see. 

“Whatever you say,” Namgyu says, the smile playing at his lips, making his mouth wobbly through the words. He playfully throws his hands up as if being arrested. “I don’t pretend to know your brain doctor shit. If you say I’m good to go I’ll believe it.”

”I have one request to ask of you, Namgyu,” The officer says. Namgyu nods. ”Please focus on yourself, this next two days. Focus on what you want, and what you’re excited about in life. About how you feel. Try not to spend all of your time thinking about him.”

Namgyu has the decency to look somewhat shaken by the bluntness, brining a finger up to scratch his cheek, eyes suddenly wandering elsewhere in the room. The office has to stifle a laugh. He knows damn well they saw tonight’s activities. 

“It’s great, of course. Spend as much time as you need, leaning on him. But look at yourself too, alright? That’s all. I’ll be here to pick you up in the morning two days from now if all stays as it is,” The officer says, backing up towards the door. 

“Okay..” Namgyu says. “And Thanos too?”

”Thanos too,” The officer says, watching as Namgyu blinks back what can only be happy tears, he turns quickly, slipping back down into his covers, head on his pillow, eyes facing the wall. 

Chapter Text

When the sun comes up on the morning of Thanos’ fifth day in the ward, there is little that can bring him down. Even the knowledge that the stolen keys have been taken back by the staff, and the small amount of sleep he got after last night’s excursion. Being caught in the act is one thing, being caught in the act and then scolded for the better part of an hour is something else. But even then, in the dead of night with that annoying nurse of his whisper-yelling in his face about disrespect and whatever else— Thanos couldn’t be bothered. Not a single thing could stomp on his joy parade. 

The feeling of Namgyu’s lips against his own, the press and the playfulness tingles on his mouth, and the leftover touches along his neck and chest burn in a similar fashion. Like a new scrape on your knee, or cold acetone on fingernails. It feels like it's all still happening, even while they are many rooms apart. 

Thanos can’t recall a relationship he had, if that word can be used just yet, where he felt this distracted. Distracted is the wrong word. This entranced. This wholly involved. The makeup of his mind always seems to curve around whatever it needs to in the moment. Whether it is writing, or substances, or a girl. But while he would always focus in on the current task, as gross as it is to call a girl a task, he’d never cradled just one thing quite like he does Namgyu. His brain always seemed to slip in the bad things alongside the good. Right next to the fuzzy feeling of a high was his dad’s crazy rants echoing in his head. Right next to the appealing girl with a shot for him, was his own voice urging him that today is his final day. He would reach out to hug the next good thing in his life, and accidentally wrap his arms around the worst things. 

With Namgyu, it all seemed to disappear. He would reach out and hold Namgyu close to him, and there would be nothing else. Like the night on the bridge had never happened. Like his dad had never said any of that insane shit out loud. Unlike with club girls, Thanos didn’t end up pulling in more than what he wanted. He would hold Namgyu’s face and see only Namgyu, not the water many feet below. He would hear only Namgyu’s breathing, not the repeated musings of his worst self. 

Maybe the games had been a wake up call, a reality check. Thanos always hated when people would use those two terms specifically to tell him what he needed. He was ill. He wanted his life to be over. That’s not something you can wake up from without.. proper treatment. It’s not as simple as going for a run or.. waking up early. At least, not for him. But, as much as he hated ‘wake up call’ and ‘reality check’, he suddenly found himself hating the idea of leaving Namgyu much much more. Scared straight, Thanos supposes. 

He had been so close to death. His being alive is actually something of a miracle. And, he hadn’t for one moment thought that he shouldn’t have made it. The Thanos before the games would have greeted the opportunity with open arms. Somehow, that Thanos seems to have gone away for a bit. 

The first thing Thanos had thought about when he woke in the hospital, had not been his eagerness to leave this plane, or frustration for having not made it out. For having not died. It had been Namgyu. It had been Namgyu’s well being. He had asked every staff member he came in contact with, every officer, every reporter, law worker, everybody. He had asked them all about Namgyu’s whereabouts. None of them had answers. The determination to find him again and make sure he was okay, it tore apart Thanos’ suicidal ideation to threads. It forced him to value himself and his position. Value his personhood and his being on earth, if only for this brief week, to find and check on Namgyu.

And then, in the psych ward, Thanos gained many new reasons. Inspired again, writing constantly, spending a lot of time reflecting, and then spending just as much time with Namgyu. Instantly finding an almost treasure-like importance in their bond. Almost like, if there was any reason to stay, it was this. Almost like, after all they’d been through, it would be downright silly to leave. Silly to split up. For something as small as death. It just suddenly felt like their connection was so much more than that. So much bigger and stronger than that.

And that felt stupid too. Just as ‘wake up call’ and ‘reality check’ felt patronizing and demeaning and dismissive, saved by the power of love was equally ridiculous. But it happened. In some form. It kickstarted this new vibrancy, something deep inside him, unstoppable and fiery. This inherent need to go on, if only to be next to him and make sure he is smiling and laughing for the rest of their time. 

“You’re in a good mood,” Minsu says, through the curtains, interrupting Thanos’ peaceful humming. It hurts his throat a little, but physical pain was about the last thing that could bug him right now. “Weren’t those keys you stole taken back?” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Thanos responds. “Now let me sleep in, my boy.”

”You’re not sleeping, you’re humming,” Minsu argues. “Where’d you go last night?” 

“None of your business, Minsu,” Thanos responds, and continues to hum, his arms behind his head and one leg crossed over the other. His foot bouncing back and forth to the song he’s making up.

Thanos listens as Minsu mumbles to himself, and then, Thanos’ nurse comes into the room.

”Head to the washrooms and do your morning routines. Breakfast will be ready in twenty in the caf,” The nurse says, looking extra sleepy. Probably from staying up to watch Thanos on the cameras and then give him that big old speech in the middle of the night. And steal back the keys. 

So Thanos does just that, he heads to the designated washrooms like every morning, Minsu behind him. Thanos grabs a shower package from the cart next to the entrance. A small basket with wash cloths, bottles of shampoo, conditioner, body wash and facial cleanser, with a towel. Like usual. He’s ashamed to admit that even the hospital brand soaps are fancier than the ones he used to use in his apartment. 

Thanos had always assumed that Namgyu had different hours for access to the showers, or maybe that he was escorted alone once the rest of the patients were already done. Just because of that whole thing with Minsu on his first day. Namgyu really fucked up his own schedule for himself by attacking Minsu like that. Not that Thanos could blame him, coming off of what had happened. But it's too bad they can’t.. do stuff like this.. together.. 

Thanos shakes his head and heads in to claim one of the shower heads. As usual, Minsu disappears towards the other section of the room, out of view. Thanos strips and places his clothes in his basket, removing the shower supplies and placing them on a shelf built into the wall. Thanos begins to hum again as he turns the shower on and steps under the water. As it heats up, steam begins to fill the room, nice humid white clouds warming up the parts of his body that the water isn’t immediately touching. He starts with his body, scrubbing in the body wash with an abrasive cloth. The soap suds spill over his shoulders and drip down to the ground. It’s the most clear-headed shower he has had in the entirety of his stay here. 

Suddenly, a blur of black hair appears at the shower head next to him, And then the person hisses when they turn the tap and get already steaming hot water to the face. They step backwards a little bit and adjust the temperature. Thanos glances over, still washing himself, and tries to see who it is without looking like a creep. It’s Namgyu. 

Shirtless with all of his unique tattoos on display, his skin shiny and clean in the warm light and thick mist of the shower room. His hair appearing longer, like a black river branching off in many small streams sectioned in the front and back. It lays down to the top of his shoulder blades, and almost at his collarbone In front. Some of it sticking to the side of his face, wet and elegant. And his eyes glisten in the dim yellow hue, face pink and hot as his body warms beneath the shower head. 

“Hey!” Thanos says, softly, glancing around at the few other patients showering at the other wall. His eyes return to Namgyu, smiling at him and nodding a small hello. “You’re here.”

”I’m here,” Namgyu laughs. “They never let me in here while there were other people before..”

He rolls his eyes, Thanos smiling and listening, working hard not to look downward as he watches Namgyu also start applying the soap. It bubbles on his chest and Namgyu washes with both hands in circles while he talks, one hand coming up at a time to scrub at his shoulders. 

“Like I was going to attack somebody naked and fuckin- slip and fall or something,” Namgyu laughs to himself. Thanos laughs too. “Not that- I mean. I wasn’t going to attack anybody else. You know.” 

“Mhm,” Thanos says, trying to sound like he’s listening intently. The soap dribbles down Namgyu’s body. Thanos lets his eyes scan the imagery inked on Namgyu’s upper arms, the ones that had been hidden beneath the short sleeves of the hospital pjs. They’re really pretty, the black lines shining and sparkling, practically jumping up off of Namgyu’s warm skin. “Want me to wash your hair?” 

“My- really?” Namgyu asks, pausing his scrubbing motions to stare at Namgyu with an open mouth. 

“Well sure,” Thanos confirms his offer, leaning over to Namgyu’s shelf to grab the shampoo. Namgyu grins and spins around, continuing to wash himself as Thanos flips the cap up on the small bottle. With Namgyu’s back to him, his hair looks even more beautiful. It falls down his neck and slips away in little snakes, glued to his skin and curling up at the ends. It’s so silky when it’s wet. And the muscles of his back move in a nice way while he continues to clean himself, rubbing the soap in with those same reaching and circling motions. 

“Go ahead,” Namgyu says, prompting Thanos to pour a good amount of shampoo on his own palm, and rub it together between both hands. Then, he places his hands on Namgyu’s head and begins to circle his fingers on Namgyu’s scalp, careful with the injury. He rubs it into his roots, and then the area of shorter hairs behind and above his ears, and then the back of skull, where his neck starts, and Thanos is very gentle. He then cards his fingers through all of the hair, combing through it all the way to the ends. It begins to separate nicely in larger strands of shampoo soaked hair. The product making the hair cling together and then hang more flatly. Thanos twirls a strand around his finger just because. 

“Here let me do yours while it sits,” Namgyu suggests, turning back around, his face looking extra pink and happy. Thanos can’t stop himself from smiling back, a great lovely feeling inside of him. He nods and turns around for Namgyu, hearing the same click of the shampoo cap, and then the squeeze of the product being applied directly to his head. And then, Namgyu’s careful fingertips make contact with his scalp, and the tufts of purple hair all come together wet and foamy as Namgyu rubs his palms around Thanos’ head. Namgyu giggles a little bit behind him. 

“What’s funny back there?” Thanos asks, as he lets his hands fall to his lower torso, rubbing the soap in there. 

“It just looks like you have so much less hair when it's wet,” Namgyu admits. “You would look good with any length I think. It’s cute.”

Thanos is embarrassed to feel his heart pound at that. Not many men he thinks would appreciate such a compliment. 

“When yours is wet it looks like you have more,” Thanos says. “Long princess hair.”

”Shut up,” Namgyu says, but it’s not biting in the slightest. A huff of laughter escapes him. 

“Mermaid- er- siren hair,” Thanos decides. And that’s a picture alright. 

“Funny,” Namgyu says, flatly. They both laugh. 

It’s silent for a little bit while they rinse, and then they take turns applying each other’s conditioner. They note that multiple patients have come in and showered and left within the time that they’ve been there. People are probably already eating breakfast.

 “This is nice,” Namgyu says, while they face each other, arms up and running their fingers through each other’s hair at the same time. Conditioner-drenched and therefore glossy and white-tinted. ”Your hair looks like lavender with the conditioner.”

”It’ll probably wash out to that colour eventually,” Thanos says. “It’s bleached under.”

”Well yeah,” Namgyu says. “How else would it be so bright?” 

It feels once again so normal, so right, and Thanos can already imagine the two of them doing the same thing in the comfort of their own home. Is his brain moving too quickly about all of this? Or does one take what they can get when they discover a life-changing, life-saving friendship? Thanos supposes if it’s Namgyu primarily keeping him here, feeling this good, feeling this motivated, he might as well think ahead further than he used to. 

He still hasn’t completely decided if it was the games themselves that did it, or if they had met on the outside it would also feel this way. But Thanos guesses that it doesn’t matter. 

They rinse out the conditioner, combing through each other’s hair once more before applying facial cleanser. They let that sit for a minute or two, laughing at how silly they both look. It foams up around their eyes and mouths, bubbling audibly. They rinse it off as well, turning the water slightly cooler for that. It feels so nice. Namgyu pokes Thanos’ shoulder just when Thanos thinks they’re about ready to dry off. And when Thanos questioningly turns to face him, under the water Namgyu pulls Thanos in for a kiss. 

Thanos is careful where his hands go, they fly up to Namgyu’s bare hips. Fingers spreading across warm wet skin. They kiss carefully but easily, keeping their lower bodies apart, leaning forward to meet at the face. Namgyu’s arms rest on Thanos’ shoulders. The steam of the hot showers float in fluffy puffs of humidity between them and around them. The smoochy sounds of their exchange are barely audible over the hiss of the shower heads and the water rushing through the pipes just behind the wall. 

 “They’re gonna stop serving breakfast soon, you better hurry,” Minsu calls suddenly, from the doorway of the shower room, having finished his own shower ages ago. 

They part slowly, in no rush, faces even more flushed red than before. And Thanos laughs as he watches Namgyu turn to glare at the empty entryway. They turn off both showers, dry off, and redress. They make their way out to the hallway and start to head over to the cafeteria together. Unsurprisingly there are many patients and staff members out enjoying their morning post-meal already. They had taken their sweet time. 

“You know what my victim services officer told me yesterday?” Namgyu says, suddenly, as they walk through the hall glued together. 

“What?” Thanos prompts. Namgyu appears giddy, more than usual, loose in his movements and sort of skippy. It must be something positive. 

“I’m leaving on the seventh day. Like they first planned,” Namgyu tells him. “With you.” 

”Really?” Thanos asks, turning his head to him, his feet pausing without his permission. They stop in the hallway as Namgyu nods excitedly. 

“Yes! I thought they’d keep me here for sure but.. I don't know. I guess my officer thinks I’m better,” Namgyu says. “If I were her I’d probably lock me up for life, but whatever.” 

“Why do you say that?” Thanos asks, softly, as they keep walking.

”Because they found me in severe withdrawal kicking and swiping at my rescuers? And then I attacked another patient and spent the rest of my time here so far sneaking out of my room? Who wouldn’t elect to keep me here forever,” Namgyu says. 

“But you’re.. happy,” Thanos observes. “Does it matter if you’re happy? It’s a psych ward, not a prison. they just want to make sure you’re going to be kind to yourself when you return to the outside.”

And Namgyu seems to think about that for a second or two.

”I guess I am happy, yeah,” He confirms with a nod and a small smile. “Attacking Minsu probably mattered. But she must have passed the context on to the staff here. No way they’d clear me otherwise.”

“You told her about what Minsu did in jump rope?” Thanos asks. Namgyu nods.

”Yeah. I needed them to know it was personal,” Namgyu says. 

“So that they wouldn’t assume you were a danger to everybody else in here?” Thanos assumes.

”Exactly,” Namgyu says. “I did a lot of shit in the games I wouldn't think about doing out here.” 

“You sure about that?” Thanos asks, thinking about the ‘shit’ they did. It gives him a subtle shiver. Thinking about their conversation the other night on the roof. The one about ‘being the conflict’ and embracing that. 

“Not completely,” Namgyu admits with a shrug and a laugh. 

Thanos can’t exactly imagine Namgyu diving to pull some girl by the hair out in the real world. Where would there ever be a situation to pull a stranger out of the way so violently? They were fighting for their lives. They HAD to get into that room. There was no other option. And killing people, to move on from the maze. Thanos doesn’t know when that would ever come to play out here. But the knowledge that it had happened, that they had done those things, and could continue to live, get out of here safe and sound. It causes a dull ringing in Thanos’ head. The audacity they have to be so cheerful. For this brief second, Thanos understands where Minsu is coming from. 

He’s not sure why it’s hitting right this moment. Maybe because the end of their stay is coming up, and soon they’ll be out in regular life again. While they’re in this place, it sort of feels like limbo. A strange middle area where they don’t have to take accountability or acknowledge what happened in any guilty way. Once they’re out, and he’s writing and performing music again, maybe it will be all he can think about. Maybe it’s all coming at him now because he was so confident when he woke up this morning. So peaceful and ecstatic after a night of dreamy kissing with a person he feels fuels him. It’s easy to fall into that nice heavenly place. But now, all that talk about touring and working together is suddenly very real. And the excitement that came before, it is suddenly a low nausea at his own privilege. 

It’s easy to focus on goals and personal life now, but what about when he’s out and in it? When life keeps moving, trucking forwards, will he only be able to reflect? Will it only be the games? Only be the blood on his conscience? The knowledge that he gets to be out there alive and well and successful and.. in love? When he caused so many people to lose that opportunity? Friends and strangers alike. All struggling just as he was. 

“You alright?” Namgyu asks, basically a whisper. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Thanos says, although he is hyperaware of the reaction Namgyu was probably expecting at this news. They will leave together, sooner rather than later, and be able to chase all of the things they have been talking about chasing. It’s all good things. Namgyu had probably wanted much more real excitement. And its there, for sure. But it’s weighed down by this weird tension. 

There's a strange ache in Thanos’ chest that he can’t shake. Namgyu seems so excited, so Thanos lets a smile form on his face, ready to go eat with his friend and hopefully have a good day. But the foreboding feeling is sickening. It is a small slithering, squirmy feeling in his stomach. A tingling between his shoulder blades, ice hot and painful. Like his dad would complain about after a day of raking leaves. It’s a bad feeling. It’s similar to the intense monologues his brain used to provide him in the dead of night, challenges and dares. His own mind practically begging him to silence it. 

This time, instead of telling him to take a cab to the bridge, it's this gross little reminder of his wrongdoings. Gyeongsu’s excited smile flashes in his mind, unwelcome. This sudden and consistent uncertainty. It feels like an infection. An intrusion. Nothing could bring him down? An hour ago? What’s happened. Just the prospect of leaving in a couple of days, going back to normal life. Fancy fun life. It has the guilt washing over him in large and unfaltering waves. 

They go to the cafeteria and they eat. The sun beams in through the windows, great big rays across the newly sanitized tables. A little bit of the foam left over on the surface from the cleaning wipes. Their food is good, hearty, a little heavy for the morning of a late night, but they eat all of it anyways. And for the most part, they enjoy the room by themselves. Chatting alone, everybody else having already left. There were staff members already carting off dishes and serving bowls to the kitchen. Despite how low they speak to each other, anything louder completely unnecessary, their voices still seem to bounce off the walls and all around them. 

“Subong,” His nurse comes in, clipboard in hand. “Finish up quickly please, you have an appointment with your officer.” 

“What?” He asks, because, his officer had not yet visited him since being here. The last time he saw the guy, it was in the hospital when he had just woken up. Before he had even been told he’d be admitted to inpatient treatment. 

“Your victim services officer,” The nurse clarifies. 

“Oh. Okay,” Thanos says, like he hadn’t known. Namgyu gives him a smile, although he can tell by his eyes that he’s confused. Probably confused about why Thanos is confused.  

“Now?” Namgyu asks. The nurse nods and gestures for Thanos to follow him. Thanos squeezes Namgyu’s shoulder as he gets up to go, and before Thanos knows it he’s seated in some small room with two couches and a low table between them.

”He’ll be here in a few minutes, he’s just talking with the welcome desk,” The nurse tells him. 

“Alright,” Thanos says, feeling nervous for some reason. 

It is a shocking amount of silence. Maybe only a few minutes, just like his nurse said. But for some reason, it feels like ages for Thanos. He sits on the couch with his hands on his knees, fingers tapping, his nails in a brutal state now. The paint having all but completely chipped off. He feels sweat gathering on his forehead somehow, and it’s aggravating considering the nice long shower he just had. It's only mid morning. Is he to spend the rest of the day drenched and uncomfortable? What is this guy coming here to talk about? Will he just give Thanos the same news Namgyu got last night? Maybe his officer is just more professional than Namgyu’s. Coming to visit in daylight instead of the dead of night. Finally, just when Thanos starts doing frustrated stress sighs, mouth in an ‘o’ shape, his officer walks in. 

“Hello, Subong,” The officer says, looking grim. “I apologize for the extended silence from myself and the rest of your care team outside of the psychiatric ward staff.” 

“Mm,” Thanos says, uncaringly. As flat as he can manage, even though for some reason he has just felt something wrong in the air since the moment he and Namgyu left the showers. To think he had woken up thinking nothing could get him down. The feeling he had in bed this morning seems hilarious now. Naive, even. Nothing has been said yet, but the bad feeling only grows exponentially with every step the officer takes into the room.

”I have been busy with my other assigned cases. I’m sure you’re aware that there were hundreds of you rescued from the island,” The officer says. His tone is very serious. Thanos nods. “Only a handful of you were placed here, however. For the unique consistency of the substances in your systems.”

”Mm,” Thanos hums again, still nodding. Where is this going. Is this going where he thinks it's going? 

“On the topic of said substances,” The officer says, finally placing his papers down on the low table and taking a seat on the couch across from Thanos. The officer sighs. “I received word in the various updates from the staff here that; they figured from the word of your fellow ‘players’ .. that you had been the one who gave out the substances. Not your perpetrators.” 

Straight to business, huh? Not any sort of line of questioning about how he’s doing, or how he’s feeling. Thanos is silent. His fingers frozen in place, no longer tapping any sort of rhythm on his knees. No longer moving at all. 

“Is this true, Subong? That you brought in the illegal street drugs and provided them to your friends?” The officer asks. Thanos doesn’t know what to do. Which answer would be worse for him? There were no pills left over. There was nothing. No proof aside from their hospital tests. 

Despite this, Thanos slowly nods. Shakily. Shivering. The hair on his arms is standing up. 

“Yes? Verbal confirmation please?” The officer prods. 

“Yes,” Thanos says. 

“Okay. Thank you for being honest,” The officer says, grabbing one of his papers and placing it apart from the pile, leaning over the table and clicking his pen. He writes something quickly and turns the paper over so that Thanos can’t read it. A chill runs through him. ”Another question for you.”

Thanos nods. 

“Is that reason for us to believe that you regularly use such substances? Is it part of your usual lifestyle to use hard drugs, Subong?” The officer questions, a little coldly. He has his hands clasped together, thumbs pressing into each other, fingers folded. “Are we to somehow discharge you confidently with no specialized addiction treatment?” 

Thanos is silent. Breathing through his nose, lips pressed together hard. Why didn’t they come to talk about this with him sooner. What does the officer want him to say. Yes I’m an addict? No I wasn’t planning on changing that? Yes I want you to let me out without giving it any extra attention? 

”I’m afraid I’ve been reviewing your case with the rest of your care team and-“ The officer pauses as Thanos lets his face fall down into his palms. Elbows resting on his knees, the darkness of his fingers over his eyes. ”..We have decided that the implications of your usage on top of your repeated attempts to escape treatment here—“

”I didn’t.. we weren’t trying to..” Thanos tries, but it comes out weakly, and he’s already accepted it somehow. The cool exterior he had been putting on for a week straight had dissolved over the course of a measly couple of hours. 

“It doesn’t matter what you were trying to do. It is extremely evident to us that you need to either stay here or be moved to a more specific and fitting place of treatment. Perhaps a rehabilitation program with our agency.” 

“But that isn’t what I was admitted for..” Thanos argues, softly, more of a croak than a voice. And although it is daunting, world shaking, to imagine that he may be stuck in a place just like this for several more weeks, maybe longer, it is at least relieving to hear him talk about rehab and not prison. It’s shocking, since to Thanos’ knowledge there aren’t very many rehab centres in SK at all. 

“It was a major reason why you were sent here, actually. Most everybody who was rescued from the games was placed in regular outpatient checkups and group meetings. You three are the only victims I’m aware of who were sent to inpatient care. For the precise reason we’re discussing,” The officer says, once again cold and calculated. 

“But.. It’s .. I thought we’re here for.. to..” Thanos stammers, then huffs and places his head in his hands once more. “Isn’t this for what happened to us?” 

“If you hadn’t taken and handed out illegal substances, you would be dealing with what happened to you— out there in the real world.” The officer says, sharply. Thanos feels like crying. He doesn’t want to look any more vulnerable in front of this guy, but the urge is overwhelming. “Like everybody else.”

“So you’re.. keeping me?” Thanos asks, his voice coming through his palms muffled and nasally. “Namgyu and Minsu are leaving in two days?” 

“I haven’t coordinated with their officers but I would assume so,” The officer says, still sitting solidly and straight up. Thanos peeks at him through the gap between his fingers. This is the worst day of his life. How does he tell Namgyu. That he’s a fucking loser that got them all stuck here and got himself stuck here even longer. Or potentially somewhere bigger, more intense, even worse. Somewhere trying a lot harder to nail a clean lifestyle into his head. 

The gritty future they had been planning and looking forward to, the one that had been feeling so overwhelmingly close moments ago, now felt very very far away.

Everything seemed light as a feather with Namgyu next to him. He had been willing to stay in this place for the rest of his life if Namgyu was by his side. Now they will be split. Namgyu will leave. Thanos will stay. And suddenly, all of that bullshit he spat at Minsu about his behaviour having no impact. Suddenly it felt moronic. The culmination of all of his bad decisions. Right here. Maybe if he had at least behaved himself in here, they would have considered letting him off the hook for the drug possession. But he has screwed himself. Bad. 

”We haven’t decided where you’ll go, but it is likely you will be removed from this place and given specialized drug-use oriented care. Your case is unique, Subong. Your friends were on the precipice of this as well,” The officer explains, crossing one leg atop the other casually. Subong wants to kill him. “The only reason they’re being discharged is because they used under the pressures and panic of the games. Maybe even your own pressuring. We have no way of knowing. YOU, however,  brought those substances into the games from your regular life. We can only imagine why.”

“How is this just..” Thanos says, letting his hands slip from his face, sitting up just enough to gaze straight at the man across from him. “You don’t know me. You saved me. Why am I being punished? Would it have been better if I died in there?”  

“That’s unreasonable,” The officer responds, exasperated, as if Thanos has given him any reason to be that way. He had already judged him before they even met. Back when those drug tests came through in the hospital. It’s probably why he hadn’t come by to check up on him all week too. This man had already decided he didn’t like Thanos, even though he didn’t have an inkling of his story. Just because of some stupid pills. 

The day had started so maddeningly perfectly. The sun coming in and warming him, the dividing curtains between himself and Minsu drifting as the air conditioning kicked in, his own joyful humming buzzing in his throat. And then the nice hot shower with Namgyu. Soapy hands and shiny eyes. Where had it all gone. The moment Namgyu mentioned their discharge, the unease had settled in. It was as though Thanos could see himself, two hours away, sat in this room he had never been pulled into, this torture chamber. Sitting across from this detached, apathetic worker who probably doesn’t care what kind of progress Thanos has made, if any. He just wants to see him stuck up in some kind of institution. Likely any institution. He clearly doesn’t care. 

“I’m sure there were other drug users in there. We’re all losers with no money, man,” Thanos advocates. He knows it's pathetic but he tries anyway. “Wouldn’t you have wanted to take the edge off in a place like that too?” 

“That’s why we’re giving the benefit of the doubt to Minsu and Namgyu,” The officer responds, his face emotionless and waxy. “They made the whirlwind decision in the middle of it all. You brought them in from your outside life.”

“You don’t know me. You don’t know my life, come on,” Thanos says, desperate for his hard shell to form back around him again. But it just doesn’t come. The easy way he carries himself, it slips away with the hope of getting out of here and getting back to normal. Whatever fake tough he had been wearing for the week had fallen far far out of reach. ”Don’t I have a say in this?” 

“No,” The officer says, with no added explanation. 

“No?” Thanos asks, hoping there is going to be some kind of elaboration. Something. Anything. This guy is treating him like an idiot. 

“No, Subong. You’re lucky you’re not facing jail time,” The officer says. 

“Jailtime?” Thanos asks, in disbelief. his voice breathy. “When was the trial?” 

“I said you’re lucky,” The officer says. ”Now listen, I wanted to have a civil conversation about more than just this, but it seems like I’m going to have to come back another time.” 

“Wh-what?” Thanos asks, stumbling over his words as he watches the man gather his papers together. Thanos hadn’t thought that he’d been difficult at all. Not at all. If anything, it had been the officer derailing the conversation. He was being harsh and cold. He wasn’t giving complete answers. There has to be some sort of.. some kind of law that allows Thanos to know everything. especially about his admission. How is he supposed to just go along with this? Stay inpatient until god knows when, god knows where? Just because this guy said so? This guy wasn’t there. He wasn’t there in the games and he wasn’t there on the bridge and he wasn’t there in Thanos’ apartment or in the club or when he got those new pills. 

He wasn’t there. He doesn’t know shit. This isn’t fair. 

Thanos looks up when the officer stands up, and he stands up too. A little aggressively, his fists balled at his sides. The man, now looking a lot less intimidating when they’re both stood up, gazes at him warily for a moment before turning towards the door. 

“You’re leaving? Just like that? You haven’t checked on me for a week, dude,” Thanos says. “How can you possibly know what’s good for me?!”

The officer does not spin around to face him again. He simply replies with his back turned. It’s disrespect after disrespect with this guy. 

“The knowledge that you were a dealer was all we needed,” The officer says.

”All you needed?!” Thanos cries, frustrated and feeling childish and stupid in these papery pyjamas. “I wasn’t a dealer! I was suicidal! And then in the games I was desperate and scared!” 

The officer looks over his shoulder, and where Thanos hopes to see an olive branch, or at least something ambiguous, it is only disgust. 

“Guiltripping is not going to help you here, Subong. I’ll speak to you in a couple of days,” The officer says, practically spits. Leaving the room with all of his papers. 

Thanos falls back onto the couch and his hands fly to his face again, he sinks backwards, and the tears spring free, hot and stinging. The treatment had made him feel like something less than human. 

The thought of Namgyu sitting in the cafeteria right now, clueless, maybe reading his book, or daydreaming about their life two days from now. It makes a sick and brutal pain curl outwards from the center of his abdomen. It juts outwards in unwanted spikes, and suddenly Thanos feels like he can’t breathe at all. Namgyu’s glossy eyes shimmering with unshed tears, looking at him with a painting-like somberness. Blank wonder and disappointment. Eyes wide open, hands twitching with a grief he’ll feel all over again. As they will be apart. The excitement of the morning down the drain, and the tiny taste they got of what was possible— gone with it. 

The idea of Namgyu alone in whatever his personal apartment shower looks like, washing his own hair, sleeping alone in whatever his personal apartment bed looks like, curled up with the cross. A great large hole digs itself in Thanos’ gut, and all hope dwindles.

Chapter Text

Minsu wakes from his midday nap to an aggressive rapping on his door. It doesn’t sound like the normal warning knock from his nurse, and he is immediately upright in bed, startled. He had thought for sure he’d have his room to himself for the rest of the day, as Subong had seemed eager to spend as much time as he could with the shockingly free Namgyu. It was mind blowing to Minsu that even after the third, fourth sneak out attempt, they still decided to let Namgyu roam free. More so than before, even. What the hell was the deal with that? 

Strange decision aside, Thanos and Namgyu were surely both off to enjoy the ward in the daytime. Why would Thanos return so soon? 

Minsu doesn't move to open the door, only staring blankly and waiting for it to swing open. Strange too, that the person is knocking on his door and not Thanos’. The door does swing open, after a moment more of vigorous knocking. And Minsu tilts his head to the side when he sees Namgyu standing there. He looks frustrated, disturbingly so, more alike the Namgyu of before his great romantical reunion. Minsu narrows his eyes and scoots backwards on his bed subconsciously. Is he here to try to kill him again? What’s going on? Minsu had thought if the staff here were going to let him go anywhere, they’d at least keep their eyes on him. 

Namgyu slips inside and closes the door behind him.

”Where is he?” Namgyu asks, through his teeth.

”Who?” Minsu asks, hurriedly, even though he knows damn well.

”Thanos! Where’d he go?! The nurse took him after breakfast and he didn’t come back,” Namgyu explains. And Minsu notices that its less angry and more worried. What had looked like blind hostility is now easily recognizable as concern. 

“He probably just had an appointment?” 

“Yeah but- he did. But it's been hours. They never take that long,” Namgyu says. “My officer always finishes up in like.. under twenty minutes,” Namgyu says. 

“He had an appointment with his victim services officer?” Minsu asks. 

“Yes,” Namgyu responds, fists balled at his sides. Minsu settles a little. 

“Well. It’s probably taking extra long because his officer hasn’t visited all week. At least, not that I know of. I never saw him get pulled out for the check-ins,” Minsu theorizes. 

“Oh…” Namgyu says. Then he bites his lip. “But, there shouldn’t be much to say. My officer told me last night that we’re both being discharged in a couple days.” 

“How would your officer know that Thanos is being discharged?” Minsu asks, unintentionally harsh. Namgyu's eyebrows dig down and his fists tighten. 

“Shut your fucking trap, Minsu,” Namgyu says.

”Well you asked me..” Minsu mutters. Then he huffs. “I’m surprised they’re letting you out. But maybe you’re getting off easy because you weren’t the one who stole the keys?” 

“Oh so it’s fine when you choke somebody out, but you steal some keys and you’re stuck in here forever?” Namgyu asks, hand on his hip. 

“If they find you in here all pissed off they’re going to think you’re trying again,” Minsu warns, with more confidence than he knew he had. 

“Trying what? To kill you?” Namgyu asks. 

“I’m just saying,” Minsu says, avoiding Namgyu’s enraged eyes. “I guess your officers probably keep in touch. I doubt yours would tell you Thanos is being discharged if he’s not. I wouldn’t worry.” 

“Well I am. I’m worried,” Namgyu says, sharply. 

“Alright well.. he hasn’t been back here. I don’t know a thing,” Minsu says. 

“Perfect,” Namgyu says. And then, interestingly, he drops to the floor and brings his knees to his chest. 

Minsu isn’t sure what to do. Namgyu’s back sits against the door, blocking him in. If Minsu really wanted to, he could dart across the room, through the curtains, and exit through Thanos’ door. But it doesn’t really feel so urgent anymore, with Namgyu curled up on the ground. He doesn’t look the slightest bit similar to the Namgyu that had run at his neck in the gardens. He looks the picture of the Namgyu that had been deep in withdrawals, hands clasped together and begging Minsu on his knees for what was left inside the cross. 

Minsu feels the odd responsibility to comfort him. He knows that it would be the most undeserved offering, but he offers it nonetheless. Reaching downwards off the bed, towards Namgyu. His hand is immediately smacked away. 

“It’s going to be alright? You know?” Minsu starts, earning a harsh glare. Which, is interesting, considering Namgyu chose to stay inside the room with him. Invaded Minsu’s room just to sulk like this. “Even if he does end up staying longer, it won’t be forever.”

”I don’t want to wait any time. A day or.. forever. It doesn’t matter. It’s the same,” Namgyu says, tugging at his hair. And strangely, despite the comfortable temperature they keep the ward at, Namgyu looks to be sweating. It beads above his eyebrows. 

”It’s just not though,” Minsu argues. “You can survive him staying here a little longer. At least you fucking have somewhere to go.” 

“I didn’t know you knew that word,” Namgyu sasses. Minsu sighs and turns away.

”Don’t know why I bother..” Minsu mumbles to himself. 

“No wait, wait,” Namgyu says, causing Minsu to look back at him, suspiciously. “You’re right. It’ll be fine. At least I’m not a homeless piece of shit like you.”

Minsu immediately turns away again, an angry grunt escaping him before he can think to be bigger than such noises. Namgyu laughs to himself. Dick. 

The minutes pass swiftly, and before Minsu realizes it, Namgyu is breathing heavily and pulling at his own hair again. The tension in the room builds slowly, the noise of the staff and patients an unending static-like fuzz beyond the somewhat thin walls of the room. The trees sway back and forth in the courtyard, causing the sun to flicker and enter through the window in short bursts of almost magic-like yellow. Dowsing Namgyu’s glistening face and shiny hair in a warm wash. 

“Why did you do it?” Minsu doesn’t even realize he’s asking it, until it is already too late. Namgyu looks up at him, with a weird look on his face. Like Minsu is the weird one for asking, and he himself is not infinitely more lost for having done it. The act. The killing. Semi. Minsu knows Namgyu knows what he means. Despite this truth, Namgyu acts dumb.

”Do what?” He asks, tilting his head. The immediate subject change, the distraction, if the reasoning behind Semi’s death could be labelled that, makes him look better. Namgyu looks instantly refreshed, wiping the sweat from his brow, hands falling away from his hair. It is almost creepy how quickly he pulls himself out of the pit when prompted to converse. Minsu wishes words would save him that way too. 

It reminds him just how Namgyu and Thanos’ dynamic works. They seem to chain each other to the ground with their easy conversation. Make sure they’re locked in good for when they’re floating high up and away. Just far enough that it feels good, and close enough to come back down and reminisce. They rely not just on how they feel to each other, regardless of the touchiness, their discussion seems to fuel them. And tie them down. As quickly as Namgyu can get lost in his mind, he can just as easily be brought back by any snappy dialogue. 

“You know what. Why did you do that to her? She did nothing wrong,” Minsu says, his face heavy with solemnity. He can feel it. Feel her weighing him down.

”The same reason I did anything in there,” Namgyu says. 

“And that is?” Minsu prods, getting himself worked up now. 

Namgyu shrugs. Which makes Minsu livid, if he were braver, or maybe stupider, he would tackle the guy to the ground. 

“Heat of the moment.. pills.. prize money? It all blends together, yeah?” Namgyu says. And he says it so, so casually. As though any of those are a reasonable explanation for having ended somebody’s life. Although, Minsu thinks, he isn’t sure what Namgyu could have possibly said that would have appeased him. Nothing could be a reasonable explanation for killing someone innocent. 

“She chose to keep playing, Minsu. I can read your mind right now.” Namgyu continues. Minsu grinds his teeth together. This was a bad idea. “It was a team effort.” 

“Think about how you felt when you thought Thanos died,” Minsu suggests. “How can you be so relaxed when it’s somebody else? How could you do that? You don't.. you don’t even think to apply your own feelings to.. you.. you just. You don’t empathize. Nobody else’s experience in this life matters to you.” 

Namgyu shrugs again. “I told Thanos. We’re the conflict,” Namgyu says. “I don’t believe in that ‘put here for a reason’ bullshit. But if I was, it would be to be… be at his side, and to start shit.”

”You can’t really think that,” Minsu says. “Your lot in life is to cause problems?” 

“It’s where I've found the most success,” Namgyu says. And it is so incredibly eerie, how all of the tension and concern that had been making him on the verge of shivering, had all disappeared in a matter of a few sentences shared. How Minsu wishes arguing could lift him up this way. That conflict, anger, could lift him up so. “Maybe you’d be more successful too if you admitted what you are.”

”Huh?” Minsu asks, indignantly. 

“Thanos said.. you’re mad that we’re not thinking so much about it. You’re mad that we’ve accepted our place,” Namgyu says. “You wish we felt like you think you do. We scare you because you’re not certain we’re all that different.” 

Minsu scrambles backwards on the bed as Namgyu pulls himself up to his feet, approaching slowly. All of the noise from the hallways that had seemed so loud a moment ago, it all rings into dull silence. Minsu doesn’t even know he’s holding his breath, and when his hands come up to protect his neck, he feels embarrassed. 

Namgyu’s eyes bounce down to where Minsu’s neck is blocked, and they come back up as he chuckles. A step closer. 

“You think you have some moral high ground,” Namgyu says. “You think you’re better than us, because you sit here philosophising your wrongdoings. You think the woman you killed appreciates that? From where she’s watching? Huh? You think she gives a shit that you’re beating yourself up?” 

Namgyu inches closer, Minsu is against the wall now, the bed cold beneath him. 

“Semi too. She’s looking at us right now, and she sees the same thing in both of us,” Namgyu says, his voice transforming into a monstrous whisper. Almost vampirical. “It doesn’t matter how much you fool yourself, Minsu. You’re just. Like. Us.” 

And then, just as Namgyu attempts to close the gap between them, Minsu’s nurse bursts into the room. The door swinging open almost violently to reveal her small form. She huffs and puffs like she has just run a marathon. Namgyu’s arms drop and he steps away from the bed in a millisecond. 

“Hey! Sorry for the interruption,” She says, completely unaware of what had been happening a second ago. “Minsu you have a visitor here to see you.” 

“….What?” Minsu asks, shakily, his hands still up blocking his neck. 

“Yeah, you should hurry. If you take too long you’ll miss rec therapy,” The nurse says, bubbly and kind. Blissfully ignorant of the situation she just prevented. “She looked eager to see you, so. Chop chop!” 

Minsu can’t think of anybody in his life who would be eager to see him. A woman that’s eager to see him. Who could this be? His mother is long gone. His only female cousin dropped off the map years ago. Or maybe strategically dropped Minsu’s loser ass because she didn’t need any family dragging her down. There’s no ‘she’ that could possibly be eager to see him. Nobody. Minsu slowly rises from the bed. 

“Rec therapy.. do I have rec therapy too?” Namgyu asks, flatly. 

“Well uh.. I think so!” The nurse nods, gesturing for Minsu to get up and out the door. “Where’s Tha- uh- I mean- Subong?” 

“I don’t know,” Namgyu says, even flatter. The nurse tilts her head.

”Huh,” She says, then with a shrug, leaves the room and waits outside for Minsu to follow her. 

When he slips by Namgyu, he is stopped by a strong grip around his arm. And he suddenly feels Namgyu’s breath on his ear. 

“Just like us, Minsu,” Namgyu whispers. And a chill runs through him as Namgyu lets go of him. Minsu steps out of the room with the haunting feeling of eyes on his back. 

Minsu’s bubbly nurse leads him down the hallway to one of the visitation rooms, a pep in her step that Minsu does not share. When they pass the welcome desk, Minsu sees what must be Thanos’ victim services officer talking sharply to the head nurse. The man is stood up straight, almost like he is being puppetted, still and cold, with precise and practical hand movements. He points at various places on the forms he sets down on the counter, reading out sentences robotically to the nurses. Minsu can’t imagine he is much fun to talk to. 

Reminded of Namgyu’s line of questioning, Minsu scans the welcome area for any other sign of Thanos. But he sees nothing. The officer is only accompanied by the nurses. The waiting room seats are empty, prompting Minsu to harbour even more curiosity about whoever his visitor is. 

As they pass the first visitation room, Minsu glances inside, and sees a glimpse of purple hair. Minsu does a double take and stops following his nurse for one second to step back in line with the window and peer inside. Thanos has his face in his hands, and his shoulders are shaking. Minsu feels the goosebumps Namgyu gave him before reappearing, the hair on his arms rising steadily at the disturbing sight. Somehow, of all the crazy shit Minsu has seen, Thanos whimpering into his own palms in an empty room is up there with the craziest. 

“Minsu?” His nurse asks, looking over her shoulder at Minsu. Minsu looks over at her, a little startled, and he blinks and shakes his head. Takes one last sideways glance at Thanos’ curled up body, and then follows the nurse to the next room over. 

Nothing could prepare Minsu for what awaits in the next room. He racks his brain desperately trying to think of a single person that could possibly want to see him. He’s half expecting it to be some ambulance driver, paramedic or some agent from the night of his rescue that he doesn’t remember a lick of. He feels his hands tremble as he brings them in front of himself. He presses his knuckles together, rubs them back and forth, the anticipation and mystery killing him. 

“Please enjoy your time. Don’t hesitate to call me if there’s any issues,” His nurse says with a big smile. Minsu turns the corner and enters the room, the door closing with a loud latching click behind him. 

And then, all it once, everything he had been preparing for, any small idea of who he is expecting to see, disappears. The collared work shirts of a professional, a stack of papers, glasses slipping down an uninterested sniffling nose. The uncaring eyes of a detached social worker. None of it comes to be. Instead, in place of all of that, on one of the two couches in the room, is Semi.

Black, sharp hair, styled shiny and spiky just as he remembers it. Her piercings shimmer even in the dull light of the visitation room. Her oval shaped face is home to a small, gentle smile, and a warmer colour sits upon her cheeks. Warmer than Minsu had ever had the opportunity to see in the cold harsh lighting of the games. Her eyes, half-lidded and relaxed as he remembers, are present and full of life. Dark and beautiful, shining with the promise of a future. A life to return to, experiences to be had. Anything other than the bloody floor of the massive bedroom. Her eyebrows quirk upwards at the sight of him, and she purses her lips together, making the smile slightly wider. She beckons for him to come in and sit down, and he finds that he cannot. 

She wears clothes Minsu never thought he would be able to see her wear. Normal street wear. Homey. Not a single colour anywhere close to those goddamned tracksuits. She wears a comfortable pair of light brown denim, and a black tee with a design he can’t read because the font is too creative. There are three silver chains hanging from her neck, each presenting a different shaped pendant, almost distracting him from the bandages that climb up from under her shirt. Her wrists are also adorned with several bracelets, and from her jeans hangs a carabiner and a number of small keychains. She looks like any girl he might see on the outside, on the sidewalk, in a bar, in a restaurant, at a park. She looks like she has a life. She looks like she’s alive. Semi is alive. 

Minsu feels the tears drop onto the thin material of his psych ward shirt before he notices they had even accumulated in his eyes. And before he knows it he is reaching up at his own face and trying very hard to brush them all away. They come too quickly, and he is very soon soaked in salty emotions. 

“Minsu,” Semi says, gently, as she stands up from the couch and slowly walks towards him. His hands slide over his own cheeks, slippery and wet. Her eyebrows curl upward, a look of sympathy on her perfect face. Semi must realize he’s frozen solid. She reaches him and pulls him into a hug. Placing her chin on his shoulder, she sort of has to lean down to do it. And Minsu is wrapped up in a person he thought was gone forever. Had been certain was gone forever. “Hey, hey, it’s okay..”

Minsu sobs, her jewellery cold against his skin. Her strong hands on his back. He leans into her, unable to suppress the pained and surely ugly noises he’s making.

”I’m alright,” Semi says, hushed. “You’re alright too, dude.”

“I’m-“ He hiccups. “I’m- so-so sorry-“ 

“No.. wha- shut up, Minsu,” Semi tells him, and he feels her head turn slightly to try to look at him. Her chin still resting on his shoulder, her arms holding him tightly. He finally returns the hug, wrapping both arms around her too. The soft clean cotton, her laundry detergent smells so delightfully different from the hospital’s. It feels like being outside again. Living a normal life. Minsu lets out another sob. “Don’t apologize.. I saw you try.”

”Huh?” Minsu asks, practically a little bubble of noise through his clogged sinuses. He’s a mess. 

“I saw you try to save me,” Semi assures him. “If I hadn't made it, I would have known you tried.” 

“You ..m-made it?” Minsu asks, stupidly. As if she’s not right there in front of him, hugging him. He hears and feels Semi let out a small laugh. He doesn’t have the energy to be embarrassed about his question. Too lost in the idea that this might be real. 

“The agents pulled me out of there and saved me. Woke up in a hospital,” Semi says. “Attending these mandatory therapy meetings now with a bunch of other players.” 

Her voice is so close to him, a rumble that runs through his body as her jaw shifts around the words. Moving his shoulder along with it. Like they’re stuck together. Minsu feels undeserving of this reunion. It’s all so sudden. Semi has been alive this whole time. 

“I asked around and,” Semi continues. One of her hands rubs his back as he lets another small sob escape. “Someone told me you three were in here. It’s strange. I just felt like. Like I needed to come see you.” 

Minsu knows if he tries to speak again it will result in little more than a pathetic blurb of vowels, so he decides against it and only sinks his head further into her collar. One of her rings kind of digs into his back as she gently comforts him. He feels like a fucking idiot right now, but the warm realization that she is alive snuffs all of that shame. 

Eventually, after maybe a full minute of silent hugging, Semi pulls away and gives him a soft and patient look. 

“Let’s sit down, hm?” Semi suggests, and she lets one of her hands rest on his shoulder as she guides him over to the small sitting area in the middle of the room. 

“Why’d you.. come visit..” Minsu sniffs, uselessly wiping away another round of tears. 

“I already said, I felt like I needed to,” Semi tells him, as they sit down on one of the couches next to each other, instead of across from each other. “I felt .. conflicted about how it all ended. I was.. am.. disappointed in you. For.. falling for their bullshit And breaking my trust. But I know you must have been terrified.” 

When Minsu doesn’t respond, only frowning deeply, lip trembling like a small child, she sighs and continues. 

“Nobody is perfect in a situation like that. I wasn’t. Some aren’t even good. Especially not under the pressure of two crazies. You tried to make things right,” Semi says. “I appreciate that. Despite it being unsuccessful.” 

Minsu sniffs again and nods, still unable to voice anything more. 

“At the end of the day, we both went through something horrific. I think we need to support each other if we want to crawl out of it,” Semi says. Then she takes a deep breath. “.. Everyone else at the meeting, they were all connecting over what they had seen, done, lost. I had nobody there I felt I needed to speak to. I found myself wishing I saw you. You three.” 

At this Minsu looks up, his eyes widening unintentionally, a few more big tears sliding down his face. He blinks. Three? She wishes Namgyu was there too? 

“Namgyu?” Minsu asks, softly, unable to stop himself. It’s stupid, and probably inappropriate. And unnecessary. Probably the last thing Semi needs is Minsu questioning her willingness to forgive. 

“Don’t ask me why, because I couldn't tell you,” Semi says with another small sigh. She looks away from Minsu and at the blank wall. “There was just.. something about the small group dynamic we had for that.. one or two days. It stuck with me.” 

“Namgyu,” Minsu repeats, even more disbelief in his voice this time. 

“I’m trying to find normalcy again. Little things like.. wearing my favourite accessories and spending too much time looking at the coffee menu,” Semi explains. “That little while, when it was harmless banter. Maybe it’s just because I’m alone, I miss it. I wish you were all out there with me.” 

“Those two are anything but normal, Semi,” Minsu says, and the desperation in his voice irks even him. And he doesn’t know why it suddenly manifests this way. This anger taking over the relief. He’s frustrated on her behalf, that her mind could possibly push and pull her this way, could possibly feel for Namgyu. The person who tried to end her life. 

“I can’t explain it,” Semi repeats. “I really can’t. But I was there, in that meeting, and— I wished you all were there as well. That’s it.” 

Minsu takes a deep breath, tries to regulate. And he finds that if Semi wishes to accept those feelings, there’s nothing he can do about it. And it would be wrong for him to try to get in the way of her healing. If she wants to .. forgive.. or something else in that vicinity, it would only be right for him to let her do that. He takes another breath.

“..Okay,” He says, with a small nod. And the buzz of her body, living body, next to him. The knowledge that she gets to carry on thinking, walking, talking, living. All of the things he thought had been irrevocably stolen from her. He feels a large gratitude build inside of him, to the world, the doctors who rescued her. Whatever god may be watching over them. The world is better with her in it. And, as a few quiet moments pass, with Semi breathing next to him, Minsu wonders if this is what Namgyu felt like when he realized Thanos was still alive. If he felt this similar hope about his future, this sort of strange and sudden rejuvenation. This fantastic grace and beauty that the world seemed empty of only a moment ago. This exciting truth, a new reality, the warmth and magic of a good ending. 

And Thanos too. Had he felt this way upon learning Namgyu had lived? Had he been so suddenly inspired, motivated, pushed to keep going? Minsu finds this intense feeling in his gut right now, as the image of the fake apartment ad crumbles and disintegrates in his memory. Suddenly unimportant, irrelevant, inconsequential. With Semi next to him, alive, it feels like anything is possible. Stupid and childish as that is. 

“I was thinking,” Semi says, cutting through the soft silence. Like carving into wet clay. “If you still have nowhere to go, because of that apartment situation you explained to me.. I was thinking you could come stay with me. We could, figure things out.” 

“..Seriously?” Minsu can’t help but ask. And as quickly as the warmth of hope and wonder had appeared within him, it dissipates into a cold paste of shame and desperation. Is this something to turn down immediately? Is he supposed to insist that Semi focuses on herself? Turns around and finds someone better, more stable, to navigate the future with? It isn’t fair to her. To pull her down this way. At least she has a home. An empty room she could rent out. Minsu doesn’t have the means to help her. Doesn’t even have the mind for it. 

“Yes well, I’ve never wanted to rent out the extra room I have. I didn’t like the idea of living with someone I didn’t know. Not that— I suppose we don’t know each other all that well,” Semi shrugs. Minsu finds it so impressive that she can discuss something like this so casually. There is still a swirling pool of shame and embarrassment in him as she speaks. Regardless of this nonchalance. Semi continues to explain. “I just thought, since we’re in the same situation. It only makes sense. We went through the same bullshit.”

“..How could you trust me,” Minsu asks, softly. His hands shake slightly where they grip the cushion beneath him.  “Trust me to live with you after I… almost let you.. I sent you to die..” 

He feels his voice breaking as he says it, and Semi does not offer and physical comfort. She sits next to him and huffs a small breath, staring straight ahead at the wall.

”I told you, I thought a lot about it. And I understand the position you were in. You were full of fear. A type of fear most people like you and me never ever deal with. Never experience even a sliver of what we did. You were being threatened and pulled by multiple hands at once. All in a matter of seconds, you made a decision that put my life on the line. And if you had picked me, you would have put their lives on the line. And they would have taken it out on you, there’s no doubt,” Semi says. Eerily calmly. “And I don’t forgive you for doing that to me. But I understand it. And, I know you won’t appreciate this comparison— but I do not and will not forgive Namgyu for what he did to me. But I understand it.”

It makes a shiver run through Minsu, the second time today he has been placed next to Namgyu. ‘Just like us’ echoes through is head in a warning, sing-songy tone. Minsu lowers his face into his hands just as he saw Thanos doing in the room over. 

“We have seen things people will never be able to fully understand. Felt things they’ll never understand. It is only right that we stick together, isn't it?” Semi suggests. Her voice poking through the darkness of his palms over his eyes. His quiet hideout infiltrated by her shockingly normal manner. Like everything is obvious, everything is clear.  

It's silent for a few more moments, and then Semi stands up[. He hears it, the cushion lifting, the jingle of her jewellery. 

“You don’t have to decide right now. But I’m going to leave my number with the staff so that you can call me when you get out. If you want to, team up. You know?” Semi says, and Minsu peeks through his hands to see her smile down at him. ”I’m happy you’re okay. And I’m happy the idiots are okay too. And I know that somewhere inside, you are also happy they’re okay.” 

Minsu is not the kind of person that could wish death on somebody. At least, he thought he wasn’t. Until he nearly commanded it on Namgyu, very well did, right on that jump rope platform. And it makes him angry that Semi is kind enough to let someone like him into her home. ‘Team up’ as she so gracefully put it. Like that one day of somewhat peaceful conversation was a sign to be eternally friends, eternally working together. Treating the world like a larger version of their island challenges. Minsu thought he wasn’t the kind of person that could wish death on somebody. And it’s true that now, sober, clean, safe, he didn’t think Namgyu and Thanos deserved to be back there in pools of their own blood. He really doesn’t know what he would do. How he would deal with Namgyu being a broken mush of personhood on the ground beneath the jump rope game. Because of Minsu. Minsu thinks, if he had succeeded in killing him, Minsu would have died too. At some point. 

His ears ring then, at this thought. Because he HAD succeeded in killing somebody. A woman he didn’t even know the name of. Who probably watches him right now, just as Namgyu said. A woman he hardly thinks about. ‘Just like us’ repeats in his brain. Minsu feels embarrassed for even having thought for a moment that he was better than killing. That killing would have killed him. He did kill. He killed and he lived. ‘Just like us’ crawls up his arms and tears through his ears. Nothing feels real. There is a feeling of weightlessness as Minsu watches Semi tilt her head at him, almost like she can read his mind. 

With that, Semi turns towards the door, leaving Minsu in an immensely uncomfortable internal conflict. He lets his hands fall into his lap, and he watches as she smiles once more and waves goodbye gently before slipping through the door. 

“Good luck with your last couple days here. Be safe. Don’t think too much,” She says. And then she’s gone. The distant shuffle of her feet against the floor and her necklace pendants ringing together. Minsu sits for a while. 

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, his nurse comes in, startling him.

”Hello Minsu, time for rec therapy! I think they’ve set up a game of badminton. Do you like badminton?” The nurse asks, clasping her hands together next to her head and then bringing them down and back up mimicking a badminton serve. 

Minsu doesn’t reply, but he follows her out of the room and notes silently that the room Thanos’ sobbing figure had occupied is now empty. He trudges forward, the pink hallways suddenly feeling like they are caving in on him. The combination of sunlight, Semi is alive, and the haunting feeling of wrongness, Minsu is undeserving, unappreciative, unforgivable. Irredeemable. 

They reach the courtyard doors, and it’s true that they have set up a proper net. There are several patients already playing matches. Just partnered up and not playing technically properly. All close together to utilize the relatively small net to the best of their ability. A small basket full of badminton birdies sits nearby, and another next to it full of rackets, it takes Minsu back to club days. When his mom had had a decent amount of money and they had the energy and the free time to go do fun things in the city. Before it had all gone away. Minsu takes a deep breath, the millionth of the day, and lets himself at least have this. For now. Whether he can let himself have that room in Semi’s apartment, that's its own ordeal. But for now, he walks up to the baskets and retrieves the necessary equipment. 

Minsu glances around, trying to spot if anybody needs a partner, or if he’s going to be stuck practicing alone. Bumping the birdie up and down on his racket, far away from the net. There is nobody that needs a partner, just as he suspected. They’re all already laughing and talking, sharing small fist bumps after a good volley. Volley? That’s not right. What is it called in badminton? Some people playfully upset with each other, giving each other small lessons. And that horrible recreational therapist Minsu had met earlier in the week is adjusting somebody’s form in a far off section of grass. Minsu thinks he will have to practice alone, as he thought. But then, he sees Namgyu. Sitting on a bench, nearly crushing a birdie in his palm. 

Slowly, almost without thinking, Minsu crosses the courtyard and sits next to him. 

Namgyu makes no noise of disgust at his arrival, doesn’t even turn away. Only continues to stare down at the birdie and squish it. The plastic netting that makes up its body bends and curves with the pressure he puts all around it. Flattening it and then bouncing back to shape. 

“Where’s Thanos?” Minsu asks, his voice always so small and ugly when he hears it speak to Namgyu. Namgyu does not look at him.

”I remember asking you the same thing,” Namgyu says, monotonously. “I have no idea.” 

“They won’t tell you anything?” Minsu asks. Namgyu shakes his head. 

Minsu watches as a pair of patients chase a birdie that has been blown by a heavy gust of wind. He watches silent and still as they break down in laughter when it lands in the branches of a particularly tall tree. They bend over giggling, light and warm. Minsu bites his lip and glances at Namgyu in his peripherals. Looking as though he is keeping the war raging inside him tightly sealed. Just like Minsu. 

“Can I tell you something you might not want to hear?” Minsu asks, earning a strange look from Namgyu. It is immediately angry, and beneath that, Minsu sees a strong sense of concern as well. Just like the worry he had displayed in Minsu’s room this morning, sweaty and short of breath. Minsu does not wait for Namgyu to respond, because he knows he won’t. 

“Semi is alive,” Minsu says, working very hard to keep his eyes on Namgyu, putting all of his willpower into not looking away. “Doing better than us, I think. She came to visit today.”

Interestingly, Namgyu does not show any reaction aside from a small twitch of shock. He blinks, turns back away from Minsu. Looks back down at the birdie he holds. Then, he tosses it up, catches it, and throws it at the ground. It bounces a couple times, the bright yellow foam ball on the end of it propelling it several feet away. Minsu jolts when he does it. And then watches as Namgyu settles back down into the bench and lets his hands come together. Picking at his cuticles. 

It occurs to Minsu that the ‘something’ Namgyu may have been expecting could have been something to do with Thanos. The sudden news that somebody entirely different is alive and well, Minsu isn’t sure how he would react either, were he in Namgyu’s shoes. Or— hospital slippers. Does it matter? Does it even matter that he finds out at all? Would Semi want him to know? Does she want to see him? She left too quickly. There is too much more to talk about. 

“What do I care,” Namgyu says. “That‘s great. Lovely. I have the bitch to hang out with when I get out of here alone.” 

“What are you saying?” Minsu asks, feeling his own face twist up at the misogynistic insult. He bites back the urge to tell Namgyu that he’s not ‘hanging out’ with Semi anytime soon. 

“Just great. Great that she’s already out there happy and healthy. They’re going to keep him here like a fucking.. animal,” Namgyu says, clearly having worked himself into a corner all day. Convinced himself of some story that may not actually be playing out. 

“How do you know that?” Minsu asks. 

“I just.. feel it,” Namgyu says. “They must be taking the drug thing seriously. Or.. the theft. I don’t know which is the problem.” 

“Both..?” Minsu suggests, weakly. Namgyu shoots him a hard glare. 

They sit for a minute, the yells and whoops of happy patients engaging in the activity surrounding them. The distant chirp of real birdies in the trees and perched on the rooftops. Namgyu’s hands are clenched together, knuckles white. 

“So you’re going to go sail off into the sunset with her then?” Namgyu asks. Minsu doesn’t know how to respond to that.

”She said.. she said that she’s attending meetings with other players.. she said she wished we were there,” Minsu says, surprising himself. Namgyu’s face changes, but he doesn’t look over at Minsu. Minsu can’t tell if he’s trying to be relaxed about it or if he is really truly relaxed about it.

”We? As in? Us? Me too?” Namgyu asks, sounding genuinely confused. “What the hell.”

”I guess she’s just better than us,” Minsu says. “If it were me, I can't say I’d be thinking of you.” 

“I hope not, asshole,” Namgyu says, smacking Minsu on the shoulder. It’s almost playful, friendly, if Minsu doesn’t think too hard. Like Semi recommended. “Better than us, huh?” 

Immediately, Minsu knows the mistake he’s made. 

“So we’re one in the same, hm?” Namgyu teases. “Good to know you’ve accepted it. You should consider loosening up a bit then. You’ll fit in better with your kin.” 

“You’re pushing it,” Minsu says, a friendly warning if their relationship wasn’t so tense. Namgyu laughs anyway. Minsu’s not sure if it feels good or not. Regardless of how exactly it feels, it does inspire him to speak a bit more boldly. “You need to loosen up too, you know. You can’t tell me to stop thinking when that's all you’re doing.” 

“This is new for me,” Namgyu rolls his eyes. “It’s only happening because they’re keeping Thanos here. If he was coming out with me I wouldn’t be spending a second in my own head.” 

“Whatever you say,” Minsu says. “I think you philosophize a hell of a lot more than you want people to think. We’re one in the same, aren’t we?” 

“Be careful,” Namgyu says, and this time it really sounds like a warning. Minsu shuts up for a minute or two, taking the hint. 

“You’re going to stay in touch with her, then?” Namgyu asks, gazing over at the thrown away birdie sitting alone. Minsu bites his lip.

”I don’t know if she.. I think she deserves a better roommate than me,” Minsu says. 

“Oh whatever. She offered up a roommate situation to you? That’s not just something your virgin brain dreamt up?” Namgyu asks, giving him an exasperated look. Minsu shakes his head. Namgyu grunts and looks back at the birdie. Minsu notices then that it has landed next to a patch of purple flowers. “If she’s desperate enough to have fucking invited you to live with her, she doesn’t have a better option, dumbass. Take her up on it.” 

“You sound ..passionate,” Minsu says, unsure. 

“Well if it's not gonna happen for me it might as well happen for you,” Namgyu says, the words coming out lazy and smushed as he rests his chin on his hand. And this takes Minsu aback so much it feels like his brain needs a factory reset. It’s the nicest thing Namgyu has ever said to him. 

“Wh.. why do you think..” Minsu shakes his head and stands. He walks over to hte birdie and lifts it from the ground, feeling Namgyu watching him just as he had earlier today. “You’re so goddamned dramatic.” 

“Huh?!” Namgyu practically shouts, immediately pissed off. Minsu turns around with the birdie, watching as Namgyu shoots up from the bench. “What’s your problem you little shit? I was being nice!“ 

“So what if Thanos spends another week or two or a day or however long in the hospital? Don’t you think your crazy bond is strong enough to be patient?” Minsu shouts, then forces himself to turn away from Namgyu’s shocked expression. As he speaks, Minsu walks towards the nets and beckons for Namgyu to follow over his shoulder. “Don’t you think it can handle some measly days apart? You’re like a high schooler in their first relationship.”

”What the hell?” Namgyu asks, but his voice is close enough behind Minsu that he knows he is following. 

“You’re being so dramatic about this. If you just quit complaining and focus on yourself, before you know it you’ll be rooming together and doing whatever stupid shit you two were scheming about all week,” Minsu says, finally turning around when he circles to the opposite side of the net. Namgyu remains on the other side, the grid wire cutting up his still open-mouthed expression of disbelief. “And you’re only this worked up because you thought too much about it. Just like I have. About everything. You don’t even know how long he’ll need to stay, if at all!”

And Minsu holds his racket out in front of him, gestures for Namgyu to grab one for himself from the adjacent basket, then waits patiently for him to do so. When Namgyu returns with a racket of his own, grumbling the whole way, Minsu serves the birdie into the air and sends it over to Namgyu’s side of the net. 

“Where did all of this courage come from, Minsu?” Namgyu asks, out of breath as he shifts over to hit the birdie back. ”Feeling- ugh! Feeling inspired by the light of your perfect knight coming to see you in your tower?” 

Minsu shrugs before bolting over to send the birdie back to Namgyu. Unwilling to voice that that's exactly it, yes. 

“Well alright. I should probably-“ Namgyu hits the birdie back. “Beat the shit out of you for saying all that but-“ 

“You’re not going to?” Minsu hits it back. “I get it. Would be backwards to smack me for being just like you.” 

Namgyu doesn’t smile, or laugh. But he doesn’t murmur anything sinister either. Doesn’t shout in anger. He simply moves over to hit the birdie back to Minsu, letting the conversation settle there. They are proving to be quite good at this. 

“Great work you two! I’m very impressed! The success of this matchup here is .. unprecedented!” The recreational therapist cheers. Minsu is sweating at this point, thankful for once for the light and flowy pjs he wears. Namgyu clearly deals with the same issue, some of his hair starting to stick to him. They seem to be equally matched. And perhaps, equally deserving of a new path.