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The pan rumbles and whistles over the stove. Thanos has taken it upon himself to cook, for once. Granted, this is his third attempt at doing so, but the third time’s the charm, and so far so good. It’s the least he can do for Nam-gyu. Nam-gyu’s been working so hard lately, with his schoolwork and taking care of Galactus and everything in between.
The sun has already set. He should be home any minute, Thanos thinks. And, like clockwork, the door opens, and Nam-gyu shuffles inside, bag dropping to the floor almost immediately. Galactus hops off of the post they’d bought for her. She stretches her leg out and licks her paw before strutting toward Nam-gyu.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he coos, bending down to pet her head. “Hi!”
Thanos wipes his hands on the towel, steps out of the kitchen. He walks over to Nam-gyu, careful not to disturb Galactus. His arms wrap around Nam-gyu’s waist and he kisses the top of his head.
“Hi,” he greets.
“Hi.” Nam-gyu leans against him, his own arms snaking around his abdomen. Thanos rocks them slowly. He puts one hand on the back of Nam-gyu’s head, entangling his fingers in the strands of hair.
“Good day?” he asks, soft against Nam-gyu’s ear.
Nam-gyu hums, affirmative. Then, quietly: “Missed you today.”
Thanos nods. “Missed you too. But you’re home now! And I’ve got dinner cooking. Because believe it or not, Thanos the Great is learning to cook. It might not look the best, but it’s about the taste. Except it might not taste the best, either. But it’s made with love! That’s all that matters.”
Nam-gyu laughs softly. “I’m sure it’s good. What’re you making?”
“Thought I’d try to make some tteokbokki. I was in the mood for it. I hope that’s cool with you.”
“Yeah, of course! I love tteokbokki. You know that.”
“Of course I know that. Just don’t get your hopes up or anything. I followed some recipe I found on Pinterest. Mine doesn’t look anything like the pictures.”
“You want some help, baby?” Nam-gyu asks once they pull away. His head is tilted slightly, lips curved upward in a half smile. He takes Thanos’s hand into his. “Here, let’s go look. I’m sure it’s not that bad. Tteokbokki is kind of hard to fuck up.”
But as it turns out, Thanos is more than capable of fucking it up.
Nam-gyu stands over the stove, eyebrow raised, and a look of utter bewilderment on his face.
“How did you manage to fuck it up so bad?”
“This is my third time trying to make this,” Thanos says. His voice wavers just slightly. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I’ve followed every step to a T, and it still looks like this. It isn’t working.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Nam-gyu assures him, rubbing his back in quick circles. “It doesn’t look so bad. I’m not sure where it went wrong, but that’s okay. It’s okay. Here, maybe it tastes better than it looks. Want me to try it?”
Thanos nods, grabs onto Nam-gyu’s arm and refuses to let go. Nam-gyu grabs a spoon and scoops up a rice cake along with some sauce. He allows the taste to linger on his tongue for a few seconds before shaking his head. “Yeah, no. I think it has something to do with the sauce.”
Thanos’s frown deepens. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I don’t know why it went wrong. I did everything it said to do.”
“Hey, hey, no, it’s okay! Hyung, it’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sure you followed everything. Sometimes it just doesn’t work out. It’s happened to me too, you know. Sometimes it’s the recipe. It’s not you, okay?” Nam-gyu pats his back and kisses his cheek, soft and quick. “You wanna try again? Or do you wanna do something else?”
He shrugs. He’d been excited to show Nam-gyu that he’s capable of some of the same things as him. But all he’d managed to do was prove that he isn’t. It’s so fucking embarrassing. It’s like he’s completely useless in every regard except for music. And even then, he can’t release an album and he can’t write lyrics with meaning. For the longest time his brand has been sex and drugs and girls and money. He’s not about that stuff anymore, though. As the months have passed, he’s realized that what he really wants to write about is Nam-gyu. Not in an explicit way. Nothing that calls him out directly, specifically. He wants to write about things that only he and Nam-gyu would understand. Things that only Nam-gyu would appreciate. He couldn’t care less about his fans, or his audience, or anyone else for that matter. All that really matters is Nam-gyu. All that has ever mattered is Nam-gyu.
He thinks so highly of Nam-gyu. Takes his opinions and his advice to heart, above everyone else. If Nam-gyu doesn’t like a lyric, then it’s getting scrapped. If he thinks something should change to better the flow of the verse, then it’s getting changed. If he likes it, then it’s great. It’s perfect.
“Hey,” Nam-gyu says, hushed. “Why don’t we just order some takeout?”
“I guess so. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, baby. You did your best and that’s what matters to me. I don’t care if it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted or the worst. You tried.”
Thanos huffs. He could do without the sappy, pitiful bullshit. He feels bad enough. He doesn’t need Nam-gyu to make it worse.
But, at the same time, he knows Nam-gyu is only trying to make him feel better. He sighs, massaging his temple briefly before letting his shoulders sag. “I guess so,” he says, and sighs deeply. The kind that can be felt deep in the lungs. “What do you want to order?”
Nam-gyu requests Chinese. It’s his favorite kind; they always order from this tiny little restaurant a few blocks away. The owners are an old married couple. They’re incredibly sweet. They always throw in some extra food, which they always save for another day. They’re able to save a lot of money through that restaurant. Thanos’s favorite part is the fortune cookie. He always convinces Nam-gyu to hand over his cookie, too. He’s lucky that Nam-gyu’s never been a big fan of sweets. More for him that way!
As soon as he steps in the door, Galactus is at his feet, trying her best to paw at the bag. She’s got a small pink cast on her hind leg now. Nam-gyu appears in the doorway next, calling after her.
“You’re not supposed to be jumping, sweetheart!” he chastises, scooping her up and cradling her in his arms. He holds his pointer finger to her face. She gazes at it for a few moments before licking his fingertip. Nam-gyu laughs softly, delighted. “You’re so cute. Yes, you are!”
“What about me?” Thanos chimes in with a lopsided grin. “Am I cute, too?”
“Hmm. . .” Nam-gyu deadpans, tilting his head as if to examine him thoroughly. “Well, I wouldn’t say cute. . .”
“Hey!” Thanos swats Nam-gyu’s shoulder playfully.
“No, no, you didn’t let me finish!” Nam-gyu stammers through giggles. “Not cute. More like handsome. How’s that? Are you good with handsome? Or should I give you a list of adjectives?”
“I’ll take it.” Thanos places his hand on Nam-gyu’s shoulder again, but this time he rubs it slowly, comfortingly. He presses his lips against his temple. “But I am sort of curious about what that list might be.”
Nam-gyu puts his finger on his chin, emulating contemplation. “Well. . . I think you’re pretty.”
“Pretty?”
“Yeah.”
It’s not the word itself, but the way Nam-gyu says it. Like he means it. Like it’s something reserved for him only. His smile grows when he says it, just a little. But Thanos notices the way the corners of his mouth draw back even more. Notices the way his cheeks fill out and turn pink. Pretty is a fairly common word, used to describe things like flowers. Pieces of jewelry. Girls. And now, among them, him. It’s a little unconventional, sure, and it’s not a word that he would use to describe himself. But Nam-gyu is the one who’s always been good with words.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty too. My Nam-su.” Thanos smiles at him. That’d make for a good lyric. When he writes his album, he’ll have to include it.
Nam-gyu rests his head against his own. A quick peck of the lips.
“Let’s eat, yeah?”
* * *
Thanos is sprawled out on the edge of the sofa, takeout box in one hand and chopsticks in the other. Nam-gyu is seated more politely on the other side. Thanos’s legs are stretched out on his lap.
“Do you really have to do all that while I’m eating?” he asks with a slight eyeroll.
“Yeah.” Thanos snickers. “Maybe we should buy a bigger couch.”
Nam-gyu sighs, pushes Thanos’s legs away by his ankles. “Or, maybe you should just sit like a normal person.”
“We both know that’s never happening, baby.”
“Whatever.” Nam-gyu shakes his head, but he’s got that little smile on his face. The one that he usually wears when he’s feigning annoyance. Of course, feigning annoyance is typical of him. Either that, or he’s actually annoyed. But there are giveaways, sometimes. Like the smile. Thanos has gotten pretty good at deciphering whether or not he’s actually upset.
“Hey, Gyu?” Thanos looks at him pointedly. He pushes his food around with his chopsticks. Gyu is reserved only for when he’s really trying to butter him up.
Nam-gyu’s head turns. “What?”
“I, uh, actually had a question.”
“Okay?” He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t need to announce it. Just ask. Nothing’s ever stopped you from talking before.” He nudges him, playful.
“Yeah, but—” He stops himself, takes a deep breath. “Okay. I guess I just wanted to ask you about your drawer. In the bedroom.”
Nam-gyu’s smile disappears almost instantly. His shoulders tense, and he sets his takeout on the table. “Yeah? What about it?”
“Well, it’s just that— I mean, the needles. You know what I’m talking about. And I just—”
Nam-gyu interrupts him. “You don’t get to say anything, you hypocrite. You think I don’t know about the bottles in the closet? And don’t even get me started on how fucking stupid that shit was. You know what, I’m glad you brought this up, because I’ve been waiting to mention it too. You fucking told me. Told me, Su-bong, that you were gonna stop that shit. You told me that yourself. So what the fuck? Huh? You’re being an asshole!”
A long pause. Several beats of silence. Nam-gyu is sitting up straighter now, and so is he. Nam-gyu’s breaths are heavy and erratic, and he’s beginning to sweat, like he always does when he gets worked up. Thanos is speechless, for a while. For someone who always has something to say, the words all die on his tongue. His throat constricts on itself, and he thinks he wants to cry, but he’s not even all that sure. All he knows is that Nam-gyu’s really fucking pissed, and that he probably shouldn’t have opened his mouth.
But eventually, after what feels like several lifetimes have passed, he murmurs, “I stopped with the pills. I never said anything about the liquor.”
“It’s the same goddamn thing!” Nam-gyu throws his hands in the air, scoffing indignantly. “Pills, alcohol, who fucking cares! You said you were going to stop.”
“And I did. I haven’t popped a fucking pill in ages. But you can’t really say the same, can you? I was giving you the benefit of the doubt, you know, thinking that those needles were old. ‘Cause, you know, I told you to stop too. Cried and everything. Don’t you remember that? Actually, I’m sure you don’t, since you were so doped up you couldn’t even remember your own name. Christ, Nam-gyu!”
“Fuck you,” Nam-gyu mutters, venom dripping in his tone. “Seriously. You’re a fucking dick.”
“And what the fuck are you? I’m not the only one who lied. And anyway, I didn’t even lie! You never said anything about drinking. You said, ‘Oh, Thanos, please stop popping pills! Oh, Thanos, please don’t do it anymore!’ And you know what I did? I stopped. Because you asked me to. You can’t say the same, so don’t come after me just ‘cause you need someone to project onto. That shit isn’t cool, baby.” He points at Nam-gyu with an accusing finger.
“You’re actually such an ass,” Nam-gyu seethes, teeth gritted. “God! It’s not that fucking easy. You of all people should know that.” He barks out a laugh. “But maybe you’re just too goddamn stupid. I don’t know.”
Thanos freezes, for a moment. He can feel his heart drop into his stomach, can feel his face heating up. But most of all, he can feel the pang that shoots through his chest, icy and cruel and merciless. He can tell that Nam-gyu regrets it as soon as the last word leaves his mouth, but it’s too late; the damage has already been done. No going back.
Without much thought, he bites back, “Yeah? Well, you’re just a fucking junkie, so what the hell do you know?” Nam-gyu’s wince is noticeable, painfully so. He looks like he’s blinking away tears. Guilt lodges itself in Thanos’s chest, replacing the humiliation and increasing tenfold.
“You’re so horrible, Su-bong!” he shouts, and hiccups. He brings a shaking hand to his face and wipes at his eyes hurriedly with his sleeve. “Just like your fucking dad! Fuck you!”
“Nam—”
“Just. Don’t talk. Give me a minute. Please.” His eyes are glazed over with unshed tears, and his lower lip is trembling, and fuck, Thanos feels like the biggest asshole in the world. Feels like he should be in the corner with a big dunce cap on his head.
Nam-gyu stands up, knees threatening to buckle. His hands tremble frantically, and he won’t look at him. He moves out of the living room and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Doesn’t even slam it. Just closes it gently. And this is worse, somehow. It’s like he’s just accepting defeat.
Thanos scans the room for something, for anything that he can use as consolation. He considers giving Nam-gyu his fortune cookie back, but it wouldn’t matter anyway, because he doesn’t even like them. This can’t get any worse, he thinks miserably. At rock bottom, the only way is up. At least there is this.
He starts toward the bathroom, walking slowly in case he needs to retreat. But the door does not open.
For many long moments, he stands in front of it. His hand raises to knock on the wood, but he stops, his knuckles just a few inches away. Should he say something? Should he do something? Would it even be worth it?
Well, he figures, it can’t hurt to try, at least.
Two short raps on the door. Quiet, too, so as not to startle him. “Nam?” he calls softly. “Baby?”
There’s no reply, at first. Thanos exhales. “Honey, come on. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have said all that. You know me: always running my stupid mouth. You should come out and kick my ass for it.” He tries—and fails—to laugh. It comes out as a desperate sound, more than anything.
But the door clicks open, and Nam-gyu steps over the threshold, and his eyes are red and his cheeks are wet, and his breaths are shuddery and hiccupy. He attempts to avert his gaze from Thanos, but Thanos embraces him immediately, hugging him like his life depends on it.
He thinks about bombarding him with apologies and pleas for forgiveness, but the sound comes out as a strangled sort of sob, and he buries his face in the space between Nam-gyu’s shoulder and neck. And it doesn’t even matter that he hasn’t said anything, because Nam-gyu’s arms wrap around his middle just as tightly. He doesn’t make much noise, but his quiet sniffles give him away.
Eventually, though, they both pull away. Thanos caresses Nam-gyu’s cheek with his thumb, brushing the tears away.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “I really am.”
Nam-gyu nods. “Me too.”
More silence. Though, this time there’s no undertone of anger.
Thanos rubs Nam-gyu’s back in slow, comforting circles. Nam-gyu rests his head on his shoulder, with the occasional sniffle or hiccup.
“So, um. . . What now?” he asks quietly, just to break the silence.
“Huh?”
“Where do we go from here?” It’s not a stupid question, but he feels stupid for having to ask. He’s spent so long acting like he knows the answers, acting as the one who Nam-gyu can go to when he needs it. But the truth—the one that’s slowly unraveling right before him—is that he’s just as lost as he is. It’s humiliating, in its own right.
“Well, um. . .” Nam-gyu starts, then stops. “Well, I don’t know.”
“You, uh, don’t want to break up or anything. Do you?” Thanos braces for the inevitable; the affirmation, whether it be soft or loud, whether it be pitiful or unsparing. Whether it ends off on a simple “let’s still be friends” or a harsh “I never want to see your face again.”
But none of that comes. Actually, Nam-gyu is aghast when he answers, “No! God, no! Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know,” he says honestly. He feels sort of silly for even considering it, now. And really, the thought never should have crossed his mind. Nam-gyu loves him. He knows this. Nam-gyu has been there through it all; through his best, through his worst, through everything in between. They’ve had their fights before. This isn’t the first, and it certainly won’t be the last. It isn’t even the worst they’ve had.
“I love you, Thanos,” Nam-gyu whispers, taking his hand into his own, intertwining their fingers. He presses his body against Thanos’s, as if trying to get even closer. His other hand rests on the flat of his shoulder. “I love you.”
“I love you,” he repeats, just as quiet. “My Nam-gyu. My boy.”
“I could never leave you,” Nam-gyu says. “God, I hope you’d never leave me.”
“I’d never dream of it.” His tone is earnest. He squeezes Nam-gyu’s hand tenderly. “Can you forgive me?”
“You’re already forgiven, hyung. Can you forgive me?”
He nods, kisses the top of Nam-gyu’s head. “I could never stay mad at you, baby. Never, ever.”
Nam-gyu sniffles, and lets out a soft laugh, relieved. “Me neither.”
“So, what now?” he asks again.
“Well. . .” Nam-gyu tightens his grasp on the fabric of his shirt. “I mean. . . I’ll get clean. For real this time. No more lying. No more hiding or getting around it.”
“If you stop, then I’ll stop too. We could use the money for something else anyway, right? Man, that soju in there wasn’t even that good.”
Nam-gyu smiles at him. “Well, I guess it’s settled then. But, we’ve got to promise each other something.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?”
“You can’t just do this for me. I won’t just do this for you. You have to do it for yourself. Okay? Can you promise me that?”
“Yeah,” he answers. “Yeah, okay. I promise.”
“I love you,” Nam-gyu says.
“Me too, you.” He wraps his free arm around Nam-gyu’s waist, pulling him in even closer. He kisses the top of his head, his temple, the bridge of his nose—anywhere he can manage. Nam-gyu laughs, light and airy and happy. He shoves him away softly, the playfulness from earlier returning.
With the tension of the night now long forgotten, Nam-gyu and Thanos collect the near empty takeout containers and dispose of them. They crack open their fortune cookies together (much to Nam-gyu’s displeasure, really) in front of a drama Thanos found that he insisted looked really good. Above them, the stars twinkle and the moon provides her usual light, her usual guidance. The cat is curled up on the window sill, purring in her sleep. Tomorrow will be another day. Tomorrow, they will find it within themselves to be better.