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Summary
It seemed ironic that in their last moments together, Thanos would get emotional over it. Su-bong was always emotional, always crying over something. In part, that meant Thanos was, too. The confirmation was when he stood before Nam-gyu, eyes trailing the splattered blood on the man’s cheek, and itching to come together and never let go because they knew they’d have to.
Emotions weren’t Thanos’ thing, not typically, unless it was intoxicated rage at whatever asshole tried to mess with him. People weren’t his thing, even with how well he used to work a crowd, but Nam-gyu wasn’t a ‘people,’ he was a person. A singular organism that places itself differently from the rest, like a mutated species derived so far from its ancestry that you’d never assume they were related at all.
Thanos didn’t cry, not since he “got rid” of Su-bong all those years ago; he doesn’t, but the man staring into Nam-gyu’s glossed-over eyes was no longer Thanos. It was Su-bong, fully on display and wrecked beyond relief.