Archive of Our Own

On Thursday, Nam-gyu ignored his headache, chalking it up to just not getting enough sleep before he left for work. It was always something he tried to avoid; he knew from experience that his overnight shifts at Club Pentagon meant that it was a necessity to find time to sleep during the day if he wanted to see the night through, without crashing in the staff room. And while the several years he’d spent working at the club had basically rewired his body’s sleep schedule to become accustomed to nocturnal life, there still was the occasional night where no matter how much he slept during the day, dragging himself to work once the sun had already set hours earlier was nothing short of exhausting. 

Nam-gyu told himself that that night was just another one of those instances, that the nap he’d taken that afternoon just hadn’t been enough to recharge him, and that his headache was nothing more than his brain trying to get him to go back to bed. But, obviously, he couldn’t do that; so instead, he bummed a painkiller from one of his coworkers when he got to the club, washing it down with a shot of vodka he swiped from the bar when his supervisor wasn’t looking. It made his headache go away– at least for a little while, and when it returned a few hours later Nam-gyu repeated his remedy– and that was all Nam-gyu cared about. After all, he couldn’t afford to call in sick to work over a stupid little headache, one that would probably be gone the next day. 

Only… when Nam-gyu woke up past noon on Friday, the headache was not only still there but now more prominent, as well as being accompanied by a slight itch to his throat. Even after drinking glass after glass of water and making himself the same tea his mother always used to give him to soothe his sore throats as a child, it persisted. 

It’s just because last night was crazier than usual, he told himself as he heated up some water to make a second cup of tea, hoping that maybe it would be more useful than the first. Despite not feeling great the night before, Nam-gyu did get up to more during his shift than he normally would, but there had been an opportunity he just hadn’t been able to pass up: a group of young men, just barely over the legal drinking age, waltzing into the club and loudly exclaiming how they were ready to get fucked that night, and all dressed in pristine, designer clothes that told Nam-gyu they had more than enough money to spend– something that was only confirmed to him when he saw each of them pull out daddy’s black credit card.

Nam-gyu made sure to be the first member of Pentagon’s promoting staff to greet the group at the door, and after learning that it was one of the members’ birthdays, he offered them a spot in the finest area in the club– usually reserved for their more exclusive guests, but Nam-gyu knew what he was doing. As soon as he brought the group over to the corner of luxurious couches, he could practically see their egos swelling as they called for Nam-gyu to get them two bottles of the most expensive vodka the club carried, making sure to speak loudly enough for the group of girls dancing nearby to hear them. When Nam-gyu returned with the bottles, the women had already made themselves comfortable on the couches as well, and soon the men were ordering expensive drinks for their new companions as well– all of which were putting tips directly into Nam-gyu’s pocket. 

It was a trick Nam-gyu had done countless times– boosting the egos of young, desperate men, making them feel more confident and more likely to blow through their money– and one that he knew he could count on when he wanted to make a little extra cash on any given night. But what was just one of his regular routines at the club quickly turned into something more, when the group seemed to take a liking to Nam-gyu, inviting him to sit and drink with them as well– something that Nam-gyu wouldn’t dare to decline and that ended up being the smartest decision that Nam-gyu made that night. Even though joining in on the party might have made him feel shitty the next day, getting friendly with the group did lead them to trusting Nam-gyu’s word more, listening to him when he encouraged them to buy yet another bottle of hard liquor, listening to him when he told them of course you should buy another round of shots, taking him up on his offer when told them he could give them something stronger than alcohol. 

Maybe all the partying, the drinking, the talking had worsened his headache and left his throat feeling dry and scratchy and painful, but it had also left him with enough revenue to keep himself fed for the rest of the week, which Nam-gyu thought was a decent trade.

At least, the partying, the drinking, the talking… that was the reasoning behind his feeling under the weather that Nam-gyu convinced himself of. He was sure it was nothing else, he told himself as he prepared for his Friday night shift despite his mild pains and discomforts; another painkiller and vodka chaser when he got to work would do the trick. 

Despite Friday nights always being the club’s busiest from people coming to let off steam after a stressful workweek, Nam-gyu’s shift was a little more easy-going than the night before’s had been, which he appreciated. It was busy, but Friday nights were when a lot of his regulars stopped by, and getting them what they needed was always relatively straightforward– he knew what they liked, he knew how to make them happy, which made Nam-gyu happy, because that meant money in his pockets. 

Well… at least, it was that straightforward for most of his regulars. 

Nam-gyu knew that most of his clients came to Pentagon, came to him, for one reason only– because Nam-gyu could get them something they couldn’t get anywhere else. Not because they particularly preferred Pentagon over the rest of the options in the city’s clubbing scene, or because they even liked Nam-gyu himself, but rather because it was Nam-gyu who got them special discounts on drinks, access to the lesser-known-about VIP area upstairs, or something that would give them a better time than just alcohol. They were his regulars not because they liked him, not even because they respected him, but because they liked what he could do for them. Nam-gyu knew that when he greeted his clients with a smile, the ones he got in return were only out of politeness, a placeholder of respect held up only until Nam-gyu gave them what they were waiting for; Nam-gyu usually received significantly less smiles and pleasantries from them once he’d “done his job”.

He’d learned over time, over the years he’d spent working at the club, not to take it personally. He knew that it was all just part of the job– that he didn’t mean anything to these people, that the way they treated him was par for the course… 

So he didn’t know why it bothered him so much when it came to Thanos. 

Thanos had been visiting Club Pentagon pretty much every weekend for almost as long as Nam-gyu had been working there. He always brought with him a rowdy group of friends (some of them actors, some of them well-known internet personalities, and some of them with their fame in the music industry, like Thanos himself), he always spent a lot of money at the bar, he always sat in Nam-gyu’s section… and he always seemed like he wanted nothing to do with Nam-gyu unless it involved Nam-gyu bringing him a refill for his drink, or slipping a packet of powder or pills into his hand under the table. 

That’s how it was with all of Nam-gyu’s regulars, so he should have been used to it, and yet… Nam-gyu didn’t know why he always felt a knot grow tight in his stomach whenever Thanos was friendly with him only until he got his high, then fucked off to go flirt with drunk women on the dancefloor for the rest of the night. None of Nam-gyu’s other regulars stuck around long after they got their fix, so Nam-gyu didn’t know why that feeling of disappointment always crept in whenever it happened with Thanos. None of Nam-gyu’s other regulars ever gave a single shit about him, so he knew he shouldn’t expect Thanos to be any different…

But after everything that Nam-gyu had done for him, Thanos barely giving him the time of day still always felt like cold betrayal piercing through his heart.

On Friday night, Nam-gyu heard Thanos walking into the club before he saw him– after all, it would have been rather difficult not to hear his entrance from the way he loudly announced that “the legend Thanos has arrived!” as soon as he walked through the doors. Nam-gyu had been hovering by the edge of the dancefloor, chatting with another one of his clients, when he heard that familiar voice; only a second later, his quick eyes landed on a just-as-familiar head of purple hair making its way through the club. 

Nam-gyu quickly wrapped up his business with his client, the wad of cash she’d slipped into his hand in exchange for a baggie of powder subtly disappearing into the pocket of his pants before Nam-gyu was crossing the room himself, making a bee-line towards the bar; he knew that Thanos didn’t like to be kept waiting. 

It was barely five minutes after the group had first walked through the doors that Nam-gyu was joining them, at the circles of couches that lined the wall of the club. It was an area lifted a little higher up than the main floor of the club, a spot that gave its guests a view of the entire dancefloor, a spot that not just anybody at the club could get to– an area reserved for Pentagon’s special guests. 

An area that Thanos likely never would have been able to get access to… if it hadn’t been for Nam-gyu. 

Despite the clear view of the whole club that the lounge had, Nam-gyu’s presence was only noticed by the group when he moved to stand directly in front of their table and placed a tray of drinks down in front of them. Even then, most of them only gave him a brief glance, some muttered a quick and insincere thanks before reaching for the selection of drinks Nam-gyu had brought and returning to their conversations, but most of them didn’t seem to care about Nam-gyu at all. 

Typical. 

While it wasn’t uncommon for the group that Thanos brought with him to change week by week, this time Nam-gyu recognized most of the men occupying the couches. Some of them he knew from their work in the entertainment industry like Thanos, and others he knew simply from their regular visits to the club alongside Thanos. However, as Nam-gyu’s eyes scanned the group, as all the drinks were claimed except for one, it quickly became clear to him that there was someone missing: Thanos himself.

Nam-gyu wondered where the loud flash of purple he’d seen just minutes ago was, and why he hadn’t joined his group in the lounge like he normally did, but before he could get too far in his search for the rapper, another voice caught his attention. 

“Ah, Nam-gyu! How do you always know exactly what I want to drink, man? You psychic or something?” 

Most of the time when Nam-gyu was interacting with customers at the club, he was wearing a mask, putting on an act, doing whatever it took to make his clients feel special– but as he turned towards that familiar voice, the smile Nam-gyu wore was genuine. 

“Just doing my job,” he replied, as his eyes landed on the customer seated towards the edge of the couch. 

Though Dae-ho wasn’t officially one of Nam-gyu’s clients, he visited the club often enough with Thanos for Nam-gyu to still consider him one of his regulars– and unlike the rest of the people that Thanos brought with him on his near-weekly visits, Dae-ho was the only one who didn’t treat Nam-gyu like shit. Perhaps it was because unlike the rest of the group, Dae-ho hadn’t grown some kind of superiority complex from his career (as far as Nam-gyu knew, the man wasn’t famous in the slightest) or from the fact that he got access to Club Pentagon’s special treatment for no other reason than being with Thanos. He was the most down-to-earth guy Nam-gyu had ever seen Thanos bring along with him, and Nam-gyu often wondered why the hell he was even friends with Thanos in the first place. 

“And that’s why you’re my favourite person in this club,” Dae-ho said, smiling up at Nam-gyu as he relaxed back against the couch. He raised his glass slightly, out towards Nam-gyu in a one-way cheers, before bringing it to his lips, happily sipping the same drink that Nam-gyu made for him every time he came to the club.

“Looks like someone’s missing,” Nam-gyu said to him, as he glanced over to the lone drink remaining on the table, the one that Nam-gyu had put a rush order in for so that a certain someone wouldn’t be kept waiting. “Thanos not with you tonight?” He tried to sound casual with his questioning, doing his best to act like he hadn’t already spotted Thanos the second he’d walked in the club.

Dae-ho took another sip of his drink before his smile changed slightly– a smile that was a little less cheerful-about-receiving-his-favourite-drink, and a little more… playfully amused about something. “Oh no, he is,” he said. “He’s just…” Dae-ho’s words trailed off as his eyes drifted to the side, his attention caught by something else. Nam-gyu curiously followed his gaze… until it landed on the answer to his own question, on that familiar head of purple hair in the middle of the dancefloor, where Thanos himself was attempting to flirt with a group of girls. 

Typical. 

Nam-gyu turned back to Dae-ho, his own smile now a little more forced as he tried his best to keep his act up. “Well, I guess I’ll just leave this here for when he’s ready,” he said, moving the untouched drink onto the table so that he could collect his serving tray again. “I’ll come back around in a bit, but flag me down if you need anything, alright?” 

Dae-ho nodded and thanked him once again for the drinks– the only one of the whole group who did so– before Nam-gyu was briskly walking across the club again, trying to find another, any, one of his other clients to distract himself with. 

As his shift went on, Nam-gyu tried his best to keep Thanos out of his thoughts, which became somewhat easier when something else began to rapidly take over his mind– his fucking headache. He’d taken a painkiller when he’d first gotten to Pentagon, but that had been a few hours ago and as the effects wore off, the pain was coming back worse than ever. 

It’s just because I’m tired, Nam-gyu tried telling himself… even though he’d gotten a decent amount of sleep before his shift that night, and there was really no reason for him to already be tired. I’m still just tired from last night. 

He was sure that’s all it was. 

Although, thanks to his headache, and the itch in his throat that only got worse the more he moved around the club and struck up more conversations with guests, he did manage to go some time without thinking about Thanos… but, of course, a man ever so determined to stay in the spotlight could only go so long without bringing attention back to himself. 

Nam-gyu was in the middle of trying to locate his coworker so that he could swipe another painkiller off of her once the pounding in his head started to get a bit stronger than what he could comfortably tolerate, when he heard a sharp whistle cut across the music blasting through the club. On instinct, he stopped and turned towards the sound, only to lock eyes with the very person he hadn’t yet spoken to that night. 

Thanos was staring directly at him, though it was only when Thanos pointed at him, then gestured for him to come his way, that Nam-gyu realized that whistle actually had been for him. He felt his ears grow warm and a streak of annoyance spark through him as he walked over, at the way that Thanos felt like he could just command Nam-gyu however he wanted… and at the way that Nam-gyu himself fucking let him. 

And yet… he also couldn’t help but feel a sort of rush pass over him, from the way that Thanos’ eyes watched Nam-gyu the entire time he walked over.

Why were things so different with Thanos?

Nam-gyu had been back to visit the group a few more times throughout the night, but this was the first time that Thanos was there as well. Dae-ho sent another smile his way as he returned, but before Nam-gyu could speak up and greet them, Thanos was picking up his glass from the table and holding it out to Nam-gyu. “Ah, Nam-su, finally,” he said, sounding bored. “Get me a new one, would you?”

Nam-gyu frowned, momentarily frozen by surprise at Thanos’ words, at the way he was shoving his drink glass– which was still completely full– into Nam-gyu’s hands. “Something wrong with it?” he asked, once he could find his voice again. “I got you your usual, like always.” 

Thanos scoffed, giving Nam-gyu one last lazy glance before he turned his gaze back onto the busy dancefloor of the club. “Yeah, man, something’s wrong with it– the ice is all melted and it’s warm. You don’t expect me to drink that shit, do you?”

Nam-gyu’s hand curled a little tighter around the glass, wet from condensation, as he bit down on his tongue so as to not remind Thanos that the drink only got like that because he’d spent the past hour ignoring it, while getting rejected by at least a dozen different girls in the club. 

Instead, he forced himself to give that same smile he gave all his clients (though, the smile that hurt a little more when it was Thanos he had to put it on for), and simply told Thanos, “Of course not”, before going back to the bar and putting in an order for a new drink… 

… A new drink that went unclaimed just like the first, because when Nam-gyu returned to the lounge area, Thanos was gone again. 

Dae-ho stood up from the couch as Nam-gyu approached, giving him a sheepish smile as he took the drink from Nam-gyu’s hand. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t waste this one,” he said, before he too disappeared into the busy crowd below. Nam-gyu tried to watch him locate Thanos, but Dae-ho quickly got lost amongst the wave of dancing bodies, and despite him being able to scan the entire dancefloor from where he stood, Nam-gyu couldn’t spot that flash of purple anywhere.

*     *     *

It was on Saturday that Nam-gyu got to a point where he could no longer make excuses– he was sick. 

He’d fallen asleep almost immediately after getting home from his shift, before the sun had even risen on Saturday morning, but he was only able to get a few hours of rest before he was awoken by a flash of feverish heat across every inch of his skin, a dry and itchy ache in his throat that was no longer just mildly irritating, and his nose being so stuffed up that he couldn’t breathe through it; he felt like he was both being burnt alive and suffocated, betrayed by his own body.

… Well, perhaps it wasn’t that extreme, but it was severe enough that Nam-gyu couldn’t keep ignoring it. He knew he couldn’t just chalk it up to exhaustion from his shift the night before, he knew that it was no longer something that he could pretend was nothing. Not when waking up so suddenly and so feverish left him gasping for breath, but the state of his nose meant that he could only breathe through his mouth, and every deep breath in left his throat feeling even drier and even more painful– all while that fucking headache was still pounding through his skull. 

He rolled over in bed, reaching for his phone to check the time; he’d gotten home just after five in the morning, and it was almost nine-thirty now. That meant he had about twelve hours before he had to once again leave for his next shift at the club, twelve hours for his body to miraculously heal itself… a long shot, but one that Nam-gyu still put his trust in, knowing he couldn’t afford to miss a night of work. 

He knew that his roommate would already be gone– he was one of those freaks who got up early even on his days off to go exercise, and so he was always out of the apartment before nine on the weekends– so Nam-gyu typed out a quick text to ask him to “get me some cold medicine on your way home today”, and then after a few seconds of consideration, sent another message– “please”– before tossing his phone back on the nightstand. 

Despite the fact that he was still burning up, Nam-gyu pulled his blankets even closer around him and curled up underneath them, hoping that maybe he could sweat out this sickness in time for that night, and tried his best to go back to sleep, hoping that he’d feel better the next time he woke up. 

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t. 

He got less than an hour of rest before he was waking up again, this time in a coughing fit because of how dry his throat was. He dragged himself out of bed to get some water, then tried to find sleep once again, though the water only helped temporarily, and throughout the rest of the day he found himself tossing and turning, each of his many symptoms taking turns at waking him up and ensuring that he was unable to doze off for longer than an hour or so.

By the time he had to get up for real on Saturday night, Nam-gyu had progressed from feeling under the weather to feeling like complete shit.

“Are you sure you should be going to work like this?” asked Gyeong-su, his roommate, once Nam-gyu finally got out of bed and got himself dressed. Gyeong-su stood on the opposite side of the kitchen to Nam-gyu, keeping his distance after providing Nam-gyu with the cold medicine he’d asked for. Nam-gyu could hear the concern in his voice, and could see it in the way he stood– with his arms crossed over his chest, his face pulled into a troubled frown.

“I’ll be fine,” Nam-gyu told him as he opened one of the bottles of Pancold Gyeong-su had gotten for him and began to chug it. 

“I’m not just talking about you,” Gyeong-su said, politely yet firmly. “What about the rest of the people at the club who you’re going to be coughing and sniffling all over?”

Nam-gyu shot him a quick glare, as though it was his fault that Nam-gyu had gotten sick. “The people in that club snort cocaine off of toilet seats,” he said, swallowing the last of the drink and shivering at the strong, medicinal taste in his mouth. “I think they’ll survive me ‘sniffling’ on them.”

Gyeong-su let out a quiet sigh, perhaps as he realized that there was nothing he could say that would convince Nam-gyu to stay home. “Fine,” he said, with a defeated shrug. “But at least eat something before you go.” Though Nam-gyu didn’t have much of an appetite, he still accepted the bowl of food that Gyeong-su warmed up for him, and tried to eat as much as he could stomach. 

Nam-gyu had been living with Gyeong-su for a little over a year now, and though Nam-gyu usually had bad experiences with roommates in the past, sharing an apartment with Gyeong-su had been… pretty decent. Nam-gyu suspected that it was due in part to their completely opposite schedules– Gyeong-su working during the day while Nam-gyu slept off his nightshift, and Nam-gyu coming to life while Gyeong-su got ready to turn in the for the night meant that they were able to stay out of each other’s way most of the time. And that meant that Gyeong-su didn’t have much of a chance to really get fed up with Nam-gyu, which was the case for most of Nam-gyu’s previous roommates; so far, Gyeong-su was the only one he hadn’t had a falling out with… yet. 

Though, that was likely also because Gyeong-su was the first roommate Nam-gyu had had who wasn’t a complete asshole… like Nam-gyu was. Whenever they crossed paths, on the mornings that Nam-gyu returned home at around the same time Gyeong-su was making breakfast or on the evenings that Nam-gyu was waking up right when Gyeong-su was getting home from work, he was pretty good at minding his own business and not commenting on Nam-gyu’s habits. He was always polite enough, and didn’t seem to care– or judge– that Nam-gyu worked in a nightclub and didn’t always earn his money in… necessarily clean ways. And unlike his previous roommates, Gyeong-su accepted and followed the rules Nam-gyu had laid out when he’d first moved in… the fact that Gyeong-su regularly washed the dishes, took out the trash whenever it was his turn, and didn’t leave his dirty clothes all over the apartment, it all almost made Nam-gyu not care about the fact that sometimes he could hear Gyeong-su playing Thanos’ music through the thin walls of his bedroom. 

Plus, above all else, Gyeong-su was a pretty good cook… and was always willing to make two servings of every meal, even when Nam-gyu didn’t ask. 

Nam-gyu ate half of the portion of dinner Gyeong-su had served him, then pushed the food around his plate to make it look like he ate more than he actually did. The warm meal did make him feel a little more steady on his feet when he got up from the table, as he hadn’t eaten anything since before his shift the night before, but his stupid headache and stupid sore throat and stupid fever hadn’t yet budged, leaving Nam-gyu still in a rather shitty mood as he finally left for his shift. 

“Try not to sneeze on anyone tonight!” Gyeong-su called to him from his spot on the couch as Nam-gyu walked out the door. Nam-gyu lifted his hand up in a not-so-polite gesture before he closed the door behind him, shutting out the sound of Gyeong-su’s laughter. 

Well, Gyeong-su could be an asshole sometimes. 

The first thing to go well for Nam-gyu all day happened right as the cab dropped him off in front of Club Pentagon: his cold medicine finally starting to kick in. And by the time he’d gone inside, got through all the prep he needed to do for his shift, and the club doors opened, he was finally relieved of some of his symptoms. He wasn’t completely better– his sinuses still felt congested and he was still tired from not getting a good day’s sleep, but he could finally talk again without coughing every few words, and his body had gone down to a more comfortable temperature, leaving him not feeling like he was sweating through his clothes. 

All he needed was this relief to last through the night, just long enough for him to get through his shift– and for the first few hours, everything was fine. But… Nam-gyu should have known he wasn’t lucky enough for things to work out in his favour.

It was just past two in the morning when the medicine started to wear off, and by three Nam-gyu was back to feeling completely miserable. He was trying his best to ignore the way his physical state was rapidly declining and tried to just continue focusing on his work, but it was a difficult task as his fever returned and the pain in his head became sharp– neither of which were improved by the loud, sweaty, and fast-paced environment of the club. He’d even had to excuse himself from the wealthy group of partiers he’d met on the dancefloor, who he’d been buttering up in all the right ways to potentially turn them into new clients, when he had to run off to the club’s stock room and practically cough up a lung. When he returned to the main room of the club, the group had already disappeared, having left the club according to Nam-gyu’s coworker when he’d asked around, putting him in an even worse mood. 

“Why don’t you just head home early?” said Myung-gi, that same coworker, as he looked at Nam-gyu and took in the state he was in. “I can cover for you tonight– I’ll make sure all your regulars are taken care of.” 

Standing in the corner of the club, away from the main crowd of clubgoers and as far away as possible from the loud speakers as possible, Nam-gyu glared at Myung-gi. “Sure,” he said, his voice raspy and weak but still plenty bitter. “And will you cover my rent, too? Or were you just planning on taking the commission from my clients and pocketing it?” 

Myung-gi stiffened at Nam-gyu’s words, his own expression turning sour as he looked down at his coworker. “Come on,” he said, his own words now just as harsh, that false politeness gone. “You can’t seriously expect to make much tonight when you’re like… this.” Nam-gyu couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t denying the accusation.

Myung-gi’s eyes trailed up and down Nam-gyu’s body… clearly not impressed with what he saw; and honestly, Nam-gyu couldn’t blame him. He was leaning against the wall, not to relax or to seem cool and casual, but rather because his legs were starting to grow weak again, and combined with the faint spells of lightheadedness that had begun to plague him, Nam-gyu was afraid that if he wasn’t being supported by the wall, he’d end up on the floor. He could feel his hair sticking to his damp forehead and the back of his neck, and if the club wasn’t being lit up by blaring pink strobelights, Nam-gyu was sure that Myung-gi would be able to see the way his entire face was flushed red. His congestion was getting worse, too, causing him to either have to snivel loudly, and disgustingly, or to raise his hand to subtly swipe his sleeve across his nose every few seconds.

Nam-gyu felt completely pathetic… but he still wasn’t about to admit defeat to Lee Myung-gi of all people. “Even like this, I’m sure I could make more tips in one night than you could in an entire weekend,” he said, reaching out and giving Myung-gi a mild shove… though Nam-gyu wasn’t exactly strong enough to do much damage. 

Myung-gi rolled his eyes, before raising his hand to dramatically brush his shoulder, the very spot Nam-gyu had touched. “Whatever,” he said, as he began to step out from the corner they stood in and walk back towards the heart of the club. “Just don’t expect me to come running to your aid if you pass out during your shift.” 

Like I’d ever ask you for help, Nam-gyu thought, but didn’t say, as Myung-gi had already walked out of earshot, and Nam-gyu already knew that if he tried to speak up, his voice would only come out as a pathetic croak. Fuck– he hated being sick. He hated being weak. 

He remained standing in his corner for a little longer, until he felt well enough to return to his clients on the dancefloor– clients who, like Myung-gi said, needed taking care of, and were probably wondering where Nam-gyu was, what he was so occupied with instead of getting them the service they’ d requested. Although, they’d have to wait a little bit longer, as that feeling of relief wasn’t coming to Nam-gyu just yet– in fact, he only seemed to be feeling worse by the second. He figured maybe he’d just been inside the club for too long, and decided that he just needed some air, air that wasn’t mixed with the breath and sweat of hundreds of drunk club guests.

He dragged himself back through the club, trying to hold himself with as much composure as he could as he pushed past customers with a strained, professional smile on his face, until he made it to a hallway that, when he finally reached the end, brought him to a side door leading out to the alley beside the club. 

When he stepped outside, the cold January weather sent a shock through his system, so completely opposite from the humid warmth inside that it froze him in place for a moment. The ground was icy, and Nam-gyu had to once again hold on to the wall to keep himself upright. When he tried to take a breath, the air was so bitingly cold that it was almost painful in his nose as he inhaled, so cold that it hurt his chest to breathe in.

It was all the best thing Nam-gyu had felt all night, he thought as he let the freezing air blow against his skin and rustle through his sweaty hair.

Now that he was alone, he finally allowed himself to let out the string of coughs he’d been holding in ever since his conversation with Myung-gi– a fit of hacking so aggressive that it left his chest aching more than the cold air did, that ripped through his throat until it felt raw, that made his stomach churn and made Nam-gyu feel like he was about to be sick. Once the coughing had finally subsided, and Nam-gyu was finally able to take in a real breath, he started to lower himself down into a squat, wanting just a few more moments of silence outside before he had to return to work; although, he’d barely made his halfway down to the ground before his knees gave out, and he toppled over onto the icy ground. 

Defeated, Nam-gyu just sat there for a minute– his ass beginning to grow numb against the frozen concrete of the alley, his fingers becoming stiff from the cold and the winter air stinging against his face– and as he did, there were only two things running through his mind.

I fucking hate being sick, and I fucking hate this job.

He finally pushed himself back up to standing only once his toes were starting to grow numb as well, and he realized that even though the fresh air had made him feel slightly better in that moment, sitting out in the cold was probably doing more harm than good for his recovery. He walked back towards the side door slowly, taking careful steps so as to not slip on the ice again and end up back on the ground… but almost ended up on his ass again anyway, when the door to the club suddenly swung open as he reached for it, nearly hitting him. 

Nam-gyu, despite his grogginess, was able to react just in time, flinching back just enough to avoid getting knocked in the head by the door; what he didn’t have time to do was avoid getting bumped into by the person opening the door. A person who clearly hadn’t expected for someone to be on the other side, and even though his eyes met Nam-gyu’s as he stepped through the doorway, his brain must not have been able to send the STOP signal to the rest of his body in time. 

His shoulder bumped against Nam-gyu’s and the bottom of his shoe stepped down on Nam-gyu’s foot, but it wasn’t any of that that Nam-gyu really cared about. No– rather it was who had just bumped into him, and who had just stepped on his foot with a ridiculously neon-coloured shoe that made Nam-gyu’s headache intensify, that made him wish he’d just gotten taken out by the door instead. 

“Hey, hey, Nam-su!” Thanos exclaimed, as he took a step back, a smile growing across his face as he looked down at Nam-gyu. “What are you doing out here, man?”

“Just… getting some air,” Nam-gyu muttered, really not in the mood for Thanos’ antics right now. He tried to step past him back into the club, but Thanos stepped with him, blocking his entry. 

“Well, have you been ‘getting some air’ all night, or what?” he asked, waving his neon yellow vape in Nam-gyu’s face, and Nam-gyu realized that he must have been coming out to smoke. “My boys and I, we’ve been here forever, and you haven’t come by to bring us anything even once! Dae-ho even had to flag down that asshole Myung-gi because he couldn’t find you– you’re really slacking on the service tonight, man, I’m disappointed.”

Normally, when he was on the receiving end of comments like these from clients, Nam-gyu was pretty good at swallowing his annoyances and frustrations and keeping that easy smile on his face; normally, he was pretty good at pretending to take the criticism well and shoot back with a polite response that would satisfy the client, or sometimes reply with a playful comment of his own, if he knew the customer could take a joke. Nam-gyu hated nothing more than having to take insults and be a punching bag for his entitled clients… but that was all part of his job, wasn’t it? It was, and Nam-gyu knew that, but… 

It was different when it came to Thanos.

And right now, as he stood in that alleyway, as his body was somehow both freezing cold and burning hot at the same time, as an ache pounded through his head so severely it felt like his skull was about to crack, as his nose was so plugged up he couldn’t breathe through it… Nam-gyu couldn’t find the filter he normally forced on himself at work. 

“Maybe that’s because I’m not your fucking personal servant,” he said before he could stop himself, his tone just as harsh as it had been when he’d been speaking to Myung-gi earlier, a tone he’d never allowed to break through when speaking to a client before.

Thanos faltered, his expression pulling into one not of hurt or anger, but rather confusion, as he took in Nam-gyu’s words. “What?” he said, accompanied by a nervous laugh. 

Nam-gyu could have– he probably should have– ended it there, but he was already pissed off, from his medicine wearing off and his symptoms returning, from Myung-gi being an asshole like always, and now from Thanos being Thanos, as well as their interaction from the night before… and he just couldn’t hold it together any longer.

“You know you’re not the only person in that club, right?” he said, finally bringing himself to look up and meet Thanos’ eyes again. “I know you think you’re the most important person in every fucking room you walk into, but you’re not the only person like that who I have to fucking deal with in there. And I know that all you see me as is someone who’s just here cater to every one of your fucking demands, but I’m not– so maybe try and care about someone other than yourself for once, and give me a break from your bullshit for five fucking minutes, alright?”

It was harsh, harsher than Nam-gyu had ever been to a client before, harsh enough that if Mr. Hwang, his boss, found out that he was speaking to a guest like that, he’d be suspended from shifts for a week– but Nam-gyu was too tired and too feverish to care. 

Besides… he’d been wanting to get that off his chest for a while.

Surprise seemed to have overtaken Thanos for a moment, leaving him frozen in the doorway as he stared down at Nam-gyu, mouth open slightly and eyes wide. The puzzlement on his face only grew more intense as he took in the words just hurled at him, and Nam-gyu could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to process them. Eventually, when all he came back with was another, equally confused-sounding, “Dude, what?”, Nam-gyu decided he was finished with this conversation; if Thanos didn’t understand it being put down that explicitly in front of him, then Nam-gyu wasn’t going to waste the little energy he had left trying to explain it again. 

He let out a frustrated huff as he started to push past Thanos and back into the hallway, but he didn’t make it far before a firm hand wrapping around his upper arm was stopping him. Nam-gyu suspected that Thanos had finally caught up with the conversation, and that his confusion had turned to anger, that he was ready to fight back. Nam-gyu knew how defensive Thanos could get about himself, and he’d seen the rapper get into numerous arguments during his visits to the club– some that Nam-gyu had even had to step in and break up before it got physical. He looked over his shoulder, expecting to now be the one on the receiving end of equally harsh words…

But instead, Thanos only continued to stare at him, frowning… though, not looking as angry as Nam-gyu had been expecting. “What the hell, Nam-su?” he said, and again, he sounded more… confused than anything else. In fact, if Nam-gyu had a clearer mind, he might have been able to notice the way Thanos’ expression softened ever so slightly as he added on, “Hey, you good, man? You don’t look so–” 

Whatever it was that Thanos wanted to say to him, though, never made it to Nam-gyu, as he stopped listening almost as soon as Thanos had started talking– a single word tipping him over the edge. 

Nam-gyu pulled his arm out of Thanos’ grasp, and turned around so that he could fully face Thanos as he said, “And for the last fucking time, it’s Nam. Gyu.” And with that, he left Thanos standing in the doorway, storming back into the club… but only making it as far as the bathrooms before another fit of coughing overcame him. 

An hour left, Nam-gyu told himself, as he stared at his ragged reflection in the bathroom mirror after splashing his face with water. Only an hour left, and then I can get the fuck out of here.

Nam-gyu didn’t see Thanos for the rest of his shift, and that was fine by him.

As soon as the last customer was getting kicked out at four-thirty in the morning, Nam-gyu did not hesitate to get himself the fuck out of Club Pentagon as well. He barely remembered getting home– getting in a cab, getting dropped off at his apartment, and somehow making it upstairs and into his bed was all a hazy, feverish blur– but as he finally dozed off to sleep, he did remember hoping that he’d reached rock bottom, that by the time he wakes up late Sunday afternoon he’ll have gotten over the worst of his sickness, and that he’d be on the road to recovery. 

It was a hope that was brutally crushed when Nam-gyu woke up on Sunday, feeling worse than the past few days combined. Perhaps even worse than he’d ever felt at any other point in his entire life. 

Similarly to his experience on Saturday, Nam-gyu didn’t get much rest throughout the day– he spent most of it tossing and turning in bed, trying to fall asleep, but being continuously woken up by a fit of coughs, an overwhelming rush of heat throughout his entire body, or sudden waves of nausea that made him run to the bathroom, only for nothing to ever come of it.

He knew he probably should have called in sick. With the state that he was in, he knew he probably should have been checking himself into a doctor’s office instead of clocking into work, but… he also he knew that if he didn’t go into work that night, a visit to the doctor’s would likely set him back on being able to pay his share of that month’s rent. 

And so, when it finally came time for him to leave, Nam-gyu could only hope for a miracle to get him through the night, through his last shift of this terrible weekend.

Gyeong-su wasn’t home by the time Nam-gyu had finally dragged himself out of bed– out to dinner with friends, as he’d explained in a text he’d sent to Nam-gyu hours earlier. In the same message, he’d let Nam-gyu know that there were some leftovers in the fridge that he could help himself to for dinner, but Nam-gyu didn’t have much of an appetite, and instead drank two bottles of Pancold, hoping that that would be enough to keep his symptoms at bay for the night. 

Though, ‘hoping’ didn’t seem to be doing much for Nam-gyu these days.

Are you feeling any better today? Gyeong-su had texted him much earlier that day. You really shouldn’t be going into work when you’re sick, dude.

I’m much better, Nam-gyu lazily typed back as he left the apartment, a lie that Gyeong-su never would have believed if he’d been home to hear it in person.

While the night before, Nam-gyu had been able to get through most of his shift before he began to feel like shit again… he wasn’t so lucky this time. He was barely a few hours into the night when the loud music of the club became almost painful for him to listen to, the bass blasting through the speakers not helping his headache. His throat felt so swollen that he couldn’t speak without causing himself immense pain, and when he did speak, his voice was barely anything more than a faint croak. Every step he took through the club felt unsteady, making him worry that the next one he’d take, his legs would give out beneath him, and making him regret not eating Gyeong-su’s leftovers. 

The entire night felt like one giant blur, as he trudged through the club feeling like a zombie; he was going through the motions of his job, making trips from the bar to the lounge area, delivering drinks and speaking to customers, but he was out of it the entire time, not even knowing if he was delivering the right drinks to the right guests. 

Nam-gyu didn’t know how much of his shift had passed by the time he decided that he needed to get the fuck out of that club– at that point, the entire world around him was nothing more than a mess of bright lights, sweaty bodies, and second-hand smoke, a mess he needed to get away from before he was sick. He didn’t know how he managed it while in his rapidly deteriorating state, but when Nam-gyu found himself stumbling out of that side door of Pentagon, out into the cold alleyway he always took his smoke breaks in, he felt a rush of that same relief that had come to him in this spot the night before. 

He moved further into the iciness of the night, embracing the frigid wind and soft snowflakes as they blew around him… and yet, he still felt himself continue to burn up. He’d come out here to clear his head, but unlike the night before, the cold weather wasn’t giving him that same alleviation, that same refreshing wake-up call. He felt just as dazed as he’d been inside the club, just as exhausted as he’d been all night– exhaustion that was starting to take over, Nam-gyu realized, when he felt his eyes begin to flutter shut, and he couldn’t stop them. 

There was a flash of panic inside him– and then, all of a sudden, it was extinguished, as all that weakness, all that pain, all that burdensome weight Nam-gyu had been feeling all night… disappeared. All at once, Nam-gyu suddenly felt light on his feet, almost like his feet had left the icy ground of the alleyway entirely, and that he had begun to float. 

For a moment, it was the most at peace Nam-gyu had felt all night. 

He let his body melt into that peace, that relaxation, as a sort of pleasant numbness spread through his arms and his legs, but before it overtook him entirely, he felt something else, as well– something hard, firm, yet warm, hitting against hit chest, almost like he’d bumped into a wall while floating away into this new world of relaxation. 

And though he couldn’t be sure, Nam-gyu thought he might have heard the faint call of his own name, too– but before he could give it too much thought, he slipped completely into darkness.

*     *     *

The next time he came around, Nam-gyu’s first thought was that of another thing he hated about being sick: how it always made him have weird dreams. 

He felt himself slowly waking up, slowly floating back into consciousness as he became aware of his mattress under his body and a blanket overtop of him, telling him where he was; he let his sense of touch take in his surroundings for him, and let his eyes stay shut, not yet having found the energy to open them. As his mind woke, he tried to piece together the memories of that weird dream, but it all just seemed too scattered to make any sense… all he knew for sure was that even in his own damn dreams, he couldn’t escape Pentagon, that even as he slept his brain wouldn’t give him a break from that club. 

A quiet grumble escaped him as he shifted in bed, trying to get a little more comfortable and fall back asleep, in the hopes that he still had at least a few more hours before his alarm would go off and wake him up for his real Sunday night shift… until he rolled over onto his other side, and his face came in contact with something. Something soft, plush, almost like a pillow, though not the pillows that Nam-gyu had on his bed.

The back of a couch? Nam-gyu realized after a moment– a little confused, but not entirely surprised. Did I fall asleep on the couch again? he wondered, while thinking about how it wouldn’t have been the first time. Even though Nam-gyu’s bedroom was only a few more steps into the apartment, there were still the nights where even those few steps were too much for Nam-gyu, exhausted after a long shift.

Nam-gyu just assumed that the chaos of his Saturday shift– of the return of his sickness halfway through, of his argument with Thanos, of his symptoms continuing to worsen after that argument– had left him in that familiar state, that he had come home and had just flopped down on the couch in the living room, leaving his brain to come up with an equally chaotic dream-prediction for his Sunday shift. 

He was sure that that was what had happened… until he moved once again to curl up even more under the blankets, and realized that the couch he was lying on… wasn’t his couch.

The couch in Nam-gyu’s apartment was one that he’d bought second-hand for dirt cheap when he’d first moved into that place a few years earlier, and it was a couch that felt like it. It was good enough as something for him and Gyeong-su to sit on, but it didn’t have much in the way of comfort and always gave Nam-gyu a sore back whenever he slept on it. The couch he was lying on now, however, was the complete opposite. Nam-gyu sunk into the comfort of this couch, the soft yet firm cushions molding perfectly to the shape of his body; his head was also resting against a fluffy pillow that Nam-gyu knew he didn’t own, and as he curled up under the cover draped over him, he think that any of the blankets he owned were as heavy, as warm, as this one.

All the comfort that Nam-gyu had woken up to was drained from him in an instant, replaced by a cold fear creeping up inside him, as a realization sunk in… 

The realization that he wasn’t in his apartment. 

Suddenly, Nam-gyu felt very awake, a newfound energy sparking through him and making his eyes jolt open as he sat up on the couch that wasn’t his. His vision was slightly hazy– partly from the sleep still in his eyes, partly from the sharp pain that pierced through his head from sitting up so suddenly– as he looked around, taking in his surroundings and trying to figure out where the hell he was. However, that feeling of dread only continued to grow within him as his eyes scanned the room, failing to recognize anything.

He figured he was in an apartment, though one that was far bigger than his own; just the living room that Nam-gyu found himself in was probably the same square footage, if not larger, than the space that living room, kitchen, and both his and Gyeong-su’s bedrooms took up in Nam-gyu’s own apartment. It was quiet, and Nam-gyu wondered if he was alone in the place. The couch he was sitting on was, indeed, not his own– not the old, ragged sofa with the faded fabric ripping apart at the seams, but rather a long, plush couch with plenty of space to spread out on. But, if Nam-gyu was being honest, it was less the luxurious look of the couch that surprised him, and more so… the colour of it, the deep, royal purple fabric that made Nam-gyu wonder who the hell had made that decision.

Nam-gyu gave his head a light shake, bringing his attention back to the matter at hand— now was not the time to be judging the interior design choices of a stranger, when he still had to figure out why he was in a stranger’s home in the first place, with no memory of getting there. 

Another quick scan around him, and Nam-gyu still couldn’t figure out where he was. The apartment definitely didn’t belong to any of his friends, and though he’d never been to the residences of any of his coworkers at Pentagon, he knew that none of them would have been able to afford a place like this on their salary. He briefly considered speaking up, calling out a quick “Hello?” to perhaps alert the owner of the place and figure out who they were, but quickly decided against it. If whoever brought him here was some kind of creep, Nam-gyu didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out. 

Nam-gyu glanced across the apartment, to the front door, just a few feet away from where he sat on the couch; he could cross the room and be out of there in seconds.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Nam-gyu swung around on the couch, kicking the blanket off and planting his feet on the ground, pushed himself up into a standing position… and immediately fell backwards onto the couch again, as his legs, feeling weak and frail, gave out underneath him and a wave of nauseating dizziness washed over him. 

It was only then that Nam-gyu remembered the sickness that had been plaguing him the past few days– the sickness that had seemingly disappeared momentarily during Nam-gyu’s worry, but was now making its prominent return. Nam-gyu groaned as he shifted on the couch, no longer trying to stand up but rather focusing all his attention on not throwing up instead as his stomach churned, as his vision went in and out of focus. He brought a hand up to brush his hair out of his face, and as he did he felt that his skin was clammy and burning hot to the touch.

For a moment, a panicked thought ran through Nam-gyu’s mind– how was he supposed to escape this place if he couldn’t even get up?– but before he could wallow in it for too long… a voice from behind him broke through the silence of the apartment. 

“Well, well, he’s finally awake! I was starting to wonder if you’d ever come back to life.” 

Despite his fever, a cold chill ran down Nam-guy’s spine… because he recognized that voice, and he couldn’t tell if it relieved him or not. 

He turned around on the couch, and though his head was still spinning, Nam-gyu could still clearly make out the figure standing across the room– tall, wearing an outfit of horridly neon clothes, skin tattooed with dark lines, and hair just as purple as the very couch Nam-gyu lay on. 

Nam-gyu blinked slowly as he watched Thanos cross the room, walking forward in his usual confident saunter. “Thanos?” he tried to say, but his voice was nothing more than a raspy croak, and he had to loudly clear his throat before he tried again. “Where am– what am I doing here?” 

Thanos raised an eyebrow as he reached the couch, leaning down to rest his forearms against the back of it and get closer to Nam-gyu’s level, though still keeping some space between them. “I think the question you should be asking is, ‘Oh, great Thanos, what can I ever do to repay you for saving my life and taking care of me?’” he said, as the corner of his mouth curved into a smirk. “You’re welcome, by the way.” 

Nam-gyu only continued to stare at him, confused by Thanos’ choice of words. Saving my life? Taking care of me? What the hell is he talking about?

“What?” he replied, making it easier for himself by putting all of his confused thoughts together into just one word. 

Thanos gave a quick roll of his eyes, appearing like he was about to shoot back with another taunting joke… but when his eyes landed on Nam-gyu again, perhaps as he took in the genuine distress on his face, Thanos’ own expression became more confused. “You don’t remember?”

Nam-gyu responded with a small shake of his head. He wasn’t completely stranger to this kind of occurrence– he’d gotten black-out drunk and had woken up the following morning with a lapse in his memory more times than he’d like to admit, but… this was different. “I… I remember being at Pentagon yesterday,” he said, speaking slowly, as each word he tried to voice was painful in his incredibly dry throat. “I remember going home after my shift, and then…” He let his eyes fall shut, as he brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, hoping to maybe relieve some of the pressure building up in his head so that he could access any kind of memory of how he’d gotten to what must have been Thanos’ place… with no luck. The last thing he really remembered was falling asleep in his bed, and now he was here, on Thanos’ couch. “How the hell did I end up here?” 

The smile was completely gone from Thanos’ face at that point– his dark eyebrows pulled together, a gleam of worry in his eyes (eyes which, Nam-gyu realized as he stared into them, weren’t covered by the coloured contacts that Thanos liked to wear when he went out to add on to his “look”; as he stared into them, Nam-gyu realized that this was the first time he was seeing Thanos’ real eyes), and the straight line of his mouth all telling that he must have been just as confused as Nam-gyu felt. “Uh, maybe because you didn’t go home after your shift,” he said, straightening up and walking around the couch, to the front so that he could take a seat beside Nam-gyu.

“I did,” Nam-gyu urged, trying to be more assertive, but that attempt to put some extra oomph in his words only led to his voice cracking, and to him once again falling into a pathetic fit of coughs; Nam-gyu felt his face grow even warmer, though he didn’t think it was just from his fever. 

“You didn’t,” Thanos told him, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the arm of the couch, out of Nam-gyu’s coughing range. “Wait… are you talking about your Saturday shift? Because if that’s what you’re thinking of… dude, it’s Monday.”

Nam-gyu froze for a moment, as hazy images of being at Club Pentagon passed through his mind again– images that Nam-gyu thought were just from a dream, but… now, he realized, must have actually been his “missing” memories. “Monday?” he repeated. 

“Yeah, man,” Thanos said, slowly nodding his head as though it should have been obvious. “You seriously don’t remember last night?”

Nam-gyu let out a tired groan, letting his head fall into his hands as he roughly rubbed his fingers against his scalp; those weren’t usually words that Nam-gyu liked to hear. “I… I kind of remember being at the club,” he said after giving it a moment’s consideration, thinking back to his dream– at least, what he thought had been a dream. “But nothing else, really, I… it’s all so hazy, I thought it was just a dream.”

When Nam-gyu lifted his head back up, he met Thanos’ eyes again from across the couch– still harbouring that confused look, still seeming slightly skeptical of Nam-gyu’s explanation… but after a moment, his expression softened, and he let out a quiet sigh and unfolded his arms from his chest. “I only got to Pentagon at around two, so I can’t say much for what you got up to before that,” Thanos said. “But not long after I got there, I headed outside to smoke, and when I went out to the back of the club, I found you out there… just like the night before.” Nam-gyu glanced down at his hands at that last part; he knew exactly what Su-bong was referring to when he said ‘the night before’, the harsh words he’d spat at Thanos still clear in his mind… and apparently still clear in Thanos’, too. “Except this time, you didn’t look so good,” Thanos went on. “Like, you were swaying on your feet, you couldn’t keep your head up or your eyes open… I tried to talk to you, but it was like you weren’t hearing me. At first I thought you were just ignoring me”– again, Nam-gyu couldn’t help but feel a slight jab of guilt pass through him as he understood why Thanos would think that– “but then… I realized something was really wrong when you fainted. One second you were up, and then– bam– the next you were dropping like a rag doll.”

“I fainted?” Nam-gyu repeated in disbelief, although… now that he was listening to Thanos’ story, he thought back to his dream, a vague memory starting to come back to him– stepping out into the cold to try and clear his head, all of a sudden feeling light on his feet like he was floating– and it felt like he was slowly getting back some of the pieces he needed to put the night before back together. 

Thanos nodded. “And probably would have cracked your fucking head open on the sidewalk if I hadn’t been there to catch you– again, you’re welcome.” And there it was again, another recollection fluttering across his mind– feeling like he was floating as he stood outside in the cold, then all of a sudden he felt himself hitting something hard and warm, and heard the faint call of what he thought was his own name before slipping into darkness– pushed forward into his memory by Thanos’ words.

“I tried to wake you up, but nothing I did worked,” Thanos went on, then looked down at his hands in his lap, where brightly-painted nails were playing with the silver rings around his fingers. He shifted on the couch, and for a moment he appeared… uncomfortable, nervous. Emotions that Nam-gyu had never really seen Thanos wear before until now, until he spoke up again and there was no more amusement in his voice as he said, “You were out. It kinda freaked me out, you know? I mean, I thought you were…” 

Nam-gyu frowned as Thanos trailed off. “That I was what?” 

Thanos let out a curt, humourless breath of a laugh as he looked up again, but still didn’t quite meet Nam-gyu’s eyes. “I’ve seen your arms, man,” he said. “I thought… that you finally went over the edge, or something.”

Nam-gyu stiffened, as his hand instinctively moved to his arm, to the crook of his elbow… where under the sleeve of his shirt, the skin was scarred over from years of Nam-gyu sticking a needle into it. 

Hearing that from Thanos shocked Nam-gyu into silence for a moment, though it was less about the words he’d said… and more so from the fact that Thanos even knew about Nam-gyu’s addiction in the first place, that he’d paid enough attention during his visits to the club to even notice something as small as the track marks on Nam-gyu’s arms. 

“I’m fine,” Nam-gyu said, clearing his throat after realizing that he’d been quiet for an uncomfortably long time, and desperately wanting to change the subject. “I've just… been a little sick the past few days.”

At that, Thanos finally met Nam-gyu’s eyes again, his gaze skeptical as he arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, once I felt that you were burning up like crazy even after being outside for a while, and that you weren’t showing any other signs of, you know…”– signs of overdose, Nam-gyu realized with a pang in his chest– “… I figured it out myself that you must be sick, but– dude, a little?” he repeated, sounding doubtful as he repeated Nam-gyu’s words. “I don’t think that people usually faint from being just ‘a little sick’, and if I’m being honest you look the furthest thing from fine.” 

Nam-gyu didn’t doubt that; he felt the furthest thing from fine, as his clothes stuck to his skin with sweat, as his head felt like it was being repeatedly hit by a hammer, as exhaustion from the past few days weighed down on him. He felt absolutely fucking pathetic… and the last thing he wanted was to admit that to Thanos, to come across as weak as he actually felt. 

“It looks worse than it actually is,” he said, though that wasn’t exactly true. Nam-gyu shifted on the couch to try and sit up a little straighter, to perhaps make himself look a little better and make his words a little more believable… except the movement only made Nam-gyu’s nausea worsen. “I’m just fucking exhausted from still having to work all through the weekend, and… shit, I don’t even think I ate before my shift yesterday, either, so…” The more he spoke, the more he thought about it, the more the cloud fogging up Nam-gyu’s mind seemed to be slowly clearing away– and it was only then that he realized that that wasn’t exactly the entire truth. No, he hadn’t eaten anything before his shift the night before, but now that he thought about it… the last time he’d actually eaten anything had been on Saturday evening, that small portion of the dinner Gyeong-su had made for him. No wonder he still felt so faint, why his legs had given out when he’d tried to stand, why his hands trembled slightly in his lap. 

“Anyway,” Nam-gyu went on before Thanos had any time to further comment on the poor state he was in, “you still haven’t answered my question. What the hell am I doing here?” 

Thanos took a moment to just gaze at Nam-gyu, perhaps not so convinced of the claim that Nam-gyu “was fine”, but if he wasn’t, he didn’t try to argue against it. “Well, once I realized you weren’t halfway dead, I knew I needed to get you out of the cold,” he started to explain instead. “At first, I was going to just bring you back into the club, but then I thought, ‘the fuck would they be able to do for you in there?’ So, I decided to just take you home instead.” He then gave Nam-gyu a slightly stern look, one that almost reminded Nam-gyu of the look his mother used to give him whenever she’d scold him when he was younger, those times he’d get home later than promised or whenever he’d fail a test at school. “The only thing was, that since you were knocked the fuck out, you couldn’t tell me where you live. And you didn’t even have your wallet, or ID, or anything on you for me to figure it out. So, I just had to do the next best thing and I brought your ass here so you wouldn’t freeze your balls off outside in that alley– and for the third time, you’re welcome.”

Though he couldn’t remember a thing, unconsciousness having blocked out everything that had occurred after Nam-gyu had first stepped out of the club, an image still managed to form in Nam-gyu’s mind– one of Thanos holding him up in that very alleyway, dragging him out onto the icy streets, bringing him all the way back to his warm apartment when he could have just as easily gone back inside the club and gotten someone else to deal with him. 

Despite the fever still working its way through his body, and despite the fluffy blanket wrapped around him, the knowledge that Thanos had done all of that, for him, sent a rush of warmth through Nam-gyu. 

“Thank you,” he finally said, and though his voice was still rather weak, he hoped that Thanos could hear the genuine appreciation in his words. 

And from the way Thanos sat up a little straighter, and the way that scolding expression of his turned into one of satisfaction instead, Nam-gyu was sure that he could. 

“Dr. Thanos kept an eye on you throughout the night,” Thanos went on, and though he was appreciative of Thanos helping him, Nam-gyu had to resist rolling his eyes at that nickname he was giving himself, “and this morning too, and the good news is that your fever’s gone down a little. I don’t have, like, a thermometer or any shit like that, but last night you were on fire, man. It was crazy– I probably could have cooked an egg on your forehead.” 

“Thanks,” Nam-gyu said, this time less appreciative, more sarcastic, and certainly not amused at that imagery forming in his mind. “Is there bad news?” 

“Bad news is that, well, you still have a fever,” Thanos continued, crossing his arms over his chest. “And… a bunch of other shit going on too, by the looks of it.” Nam-gyu didn’t miss the way Thanos’ eyes scanned him with judgement.

Like I don’t already know that, Nam-gyu thought, but didn’t say, forcing himself to at least be somewhat polite to the guy who had saved him from spending the night in a cold, dirty alleyway. “I figured,” he said instead, before bringing his arm up to cover his mouth as he let out a few more coughs, then moved to stand up… though, just like his previous attempt, barely made it all the way up before he started swaying on his feet. 

Thanos hopped up off the couch and moved to meet him, planting his large hands around Nam-gyu’s biceps to hold him steady. “If you’re gonna puke, please hold it until I can get you to the bathroom,” Thanos told him, with a lilt of panicked desperation in his voice. “The rug you’re standing on cost nearly a million won.” 

Nam-gyu could have been sick at that alone– Thanos had spent how much on a fucking rug?!– but shook his head as he attempted to steady himself. “I’m not throwing up,” he grumbled, taking in a few deep breaths to try and get his head to stop spinning. “Listen, man, I appreciate you helping me out, but... I think I should probably head home.”

When Nam-gyu finally stopped seeing stars from the sudden movement of standing up, his eyes met Thanos’– and the puzzled look on the other man’s face. “You sure you’re going to be able to get yourself home like this?” he asked, and once again, his eyes scanned Nam-gyu… though this time, they seemed more concerned than judgemental. 

“I’ll be fine,” Nam-gyu told him, reaching out to give him a reassuring clap on the shoulder. “As soon as I get in a cab I’ll be–”

I’ll be fine, he was about to repeat, when another thought passed through his mind. He froze for a moment as it sunk in, and when he finally moved again he took his hand from Thanos’ shoulder to reach down and desperately dig his hands into the pockets of his pants, muttering a nervous “Agh– shit, shit, shit…” under his breath as what he feared came true. 

“What?” Thanos asked, curious as he watched Nam-gyu give himself a frantic pat-down.

Nam-gyu let out a frustrated sigh, when he’d turned all his pockets inside out, revealing their emptiness. Thanos had already mentioned that Nam-gyu hadn’t had his wallet on him when he’d found him in the alley, but that wasn’t all that Nam-gyu was missing. “I don’t have my keys,” he said, as he remembered that his wallet, the keys to his apartment, and his phone were all still in his locker at Club Pentagon. “I left them and the rest of my shit at the club, which is closed– and it’s Monday, so my roommate won’t be home from work until, like, seven o’clock tonight, which isn’t for… what time is it?” 

Thanos reached into his own pocket and pulled out his phone; he tapped the screen to turn it on, then flipped it around for Nam-gyu to see… that it was only 11:24 in the morning. 

“Seven and a half hours,” Nam-gyu said, with a sort of defeated sigh.

A beat of silence passed over them, as the realization seemed to set in for the both of them: that Nam-gyu was going to be locked out of his apartment for the next seven and a half hours.

There was an obvious solution. Really, there was only one solution, but it was a solution Nam-gyu didn’t want to bring up. He already felt like he’d been a burden to Thanos, not to mention the embarrassment that was starting to grow within him as he thought about how Thanos was seeing him at his lowest, in a state so pathetic, where he could barely stand up by himself. And besides… considering how their last interaction with each other had ended, Nam-gyu wouldn’t be surprised if Thanos wanted him out of his apartment as soon as possible. 

Which was why he found himself caught so off guard when Thanos’s lips curved into a small smile, and he said, “Well, looks like you’re gonna be checked in to Dr. Thanos’ office all day.”

While Nam-gyu would have been happy enough to spend the next seven and a half hours back on Thanos’ couch, sleeping the day away until he could go home, Dr. Thanos’ first order of business was getting Nam-gyu in the shower. 

“You look like shit, dude,” Thanos told him, as he took Nam-gyu by the shoulders and began pushing him towards the bathroom. “And you smell like the club– I do not want my couch to smell like the club.”

Nam-gyu let out a tired sigh as Thanos forced him through the apartment, but he didn’t try to argue. Even though he felt like shit and all he wanted to do was sleep, he also knew that a shower would probably help him feel at least a little bit better.

When Thanos finally brought him to the bathroom, Nam-gyu was once again amazed at the size of it compared to his own back in his tiny apartment; Thanos’ huge, walk-in, glass-door shower was only a little smaller than Nam-gyu and Gyeong-su’s entire bathroom.

“There are some clean towels,” Thanos said, gesturing across the room to where a stack of white, fluffy towels– how did even his towels look expensive?– sat upon a small table beside the shower. “And help yourself to whatever you want in there,” he went on, another casual gesture to the shower itself, inside which Nam-gyu could see a line of products on a built-in shelf. “Just don’t come out until you don’t smell like the club anymore, alright?” 

Nam-gyu finally stopped gaping at Thanos’ stupidly fancy bathroom to instead turn and tell Thanos himself to give him a break, but before he could even send an annoyed look Thanos’ way, the rapper was already taking a step back, interrupting Nam-gyu before he could even speak up with a loud, “Oh, and one last thing!”

He rushed out of the bathroom, disappearing down the hall and leaving Nam-gyu to stand alone for a minute… and when he reappeared, he was holding a jumble of something green and purple in his arms. “Here– you can change into these when you’re done,” he said, before passing the neon jumble into Nam-gyu’s arms… and it was only after Thanos left the bathroom once again, this time closing the door behind him, that Nam-gyu realized that the jumble he was holding was clothes. 

Thanos’ clothes. 

When Nam-gyu finally got into the shower, he just stood for a while. 

He stood under the water, letting the warmth envelop him and wash away some of the grimy discomfort he’d been feeling non-stop over the past several days. He stood there as the bathroom filled with steam, and took long, deep breaths of the hot vapours around him– filling his nose and giving his poor sinuses some relief after having been so congested for what felt like forever at that point; Nam-gyu had forgotten how incredible it felt to be able to fully breathe through his nose. 

Despite how relaxing it was to just stand underneath Thanos’ expensive showerhead, once Nam-gyu started to sway on his feet again and his knees felt like they wouldn’t be able to hold out for much longer, Nam-gyu figured he should probably finish up quickly before he ended up passing out again… which would be about a million times more humiliating now than the first time if Thanos had to come rescue him again. He turned away from the stream of water, and as it pattered against his back instead, Nam-gyu looked at the assortment of products that Thanos had lined up in the shower. 

Help yourself to whatever you want, Thanos had told him, but as Nam-gyu’s eyes scanned the shelf, he counted fourteen different containers of products for his choosing, and he could only wonder what the hell Thanos needed so many different kinds of shampoos and body washes for. 

Nam-gyu reached out and picked up one of the bottles– a conditioner that was labelled as being specifically for dyed hair. It was from a brand that Nam-gyu didn’t recognize, but that he was sure if he looked it up, along with the rest of the products on Thanos’ shelf, would probably cost thousands of won more than Nam-gyu could ever afford to spend on fucking conditioner.

Because of that, Nam-gyu generously helped himself to several of the expensive products, washing his hair and his body for the first time in days and finally getting rid of that sticky feeling of sweat that had been clinging to his skin all weekend. He even used something called “body butter”, which he’d never even heard of before but, admittedly, made his skin feel surprisingly soft. When he eventually stepped out of the shower, though he didn’t feel any less sick, finally feeling clean did make him feel slightly less like shit, and that was at least something. 

He dried his body off, used the towel to wring out his hair before brushing his fingers through it to get rid of the tangles… then, hesitated for a moment, before changing into the clothes Thanos had given him. 

Thanos’ clothes. 

Both the hoodie and the sweatpants were a little big on Nam-gyu, but he didn’t mind. In fact, after sleeping in his tight, uncomfortable work uniform all night, it was a relief to wear something that hung loosely on his body instead, something he felt he could actually relax in. Plus, Nam-gyu remembered pulling off his previous outfit, how the smell of sweat and sickness soaked into the fabric had made him turn his nose up in disgust; now, he looked down at himself, at the bright green sweater and clashing purple pants, and took comfort in being able to change into a clean outfit… clothes that, he couldn’t help but notice, smelled like Thanos. 

Once he checked himself in the mirror to make sure he looked somewhat presentable, Nam-gyu finally left the bathroom. The rest of Thanos’ apartment felt a little chilly compared to the sauna Nam-gyu had created in the shower, so he pulled the sleeves of Thanos’ hoodie down over his hands as he slowly walked back to the living room. As he rounded the corner, he found Thanos standing over in the kitchen, his back turned to Nam-gyu as he tended to something bubbling on the stove.

As he crossed the room, Nam-gyu could hear Thanos quietly humming a tune as he stirred a pot, and as he listened he thought that it might have been one of Thanos’ own songs; but, before he could exactly place it, Thanos must have heard him approaching, and stopped as he looked over his shoulder at Nam-gyu. 

“There you are,” he said as he eyed Nam-gyu from across the kitchen, a slight playful tease to his tone. “You were taking so long I thought you might have passed out in there. I thought I was gonna have to break down the door to come rescue you again.”

Nam-gyu rolled his eyes, but before he could shoot back a comment on how it had taken him forever to even figure out how to turn on Thanos’ stupidly fancy shower, Thanos was turning around entirely and moving towards him. “But now that you’re out– back to the couch you go,” he said, crossing the kitchen in a few long strides. Before Nam-gyu even had the time to react, Thanos was in front of him, once again placing his hands on Nam-gyu’s shoulders and turning him around, before pushing him back towards the living room. 

“What the hell are you–?” Nam-gyu started as he stumbled forward, the sudden movement catching him off guard, and as he was already unstable on his feet, he found himself instinctively reaching backwards to grab hold of Thanos’ arm to steady himself. 

“You need to keep resting up, Nam-su!” Thanos said as he guided Nam-gyu to the couch and sat him down in the same spot Nam-gyu had woken up in. “Now, you stay here, and I’ll be right back with something that will fix you right up, okay?”

Nam-gyu’s tired brain attempted to keep up, but Thanos’ liveliness was too fast for him to keep up with. “What?”

“Well, you said you didn’t eat before going to the club last night,” Thanos said, “so that on top of already being sick, no wonder you passed out. Plus, that means it’s probably been over twelve hours since you last ate, which is not good. But don’t worry– Chef Thanos is here to take care of you.”

And before Nam-gyu could argue any further– before he could even think about making a comment on how he’d now switched from Dr. Thanos to Chef Thanos– Thanos was turning on his heel and marching back into the kitchen, leaving Nam-gyu on the couch, slightly dazed and very confused. 

Waking up and realizing that he was in Thanos’ apartment had already been disorienting enough; waking up and realizing that he was in Thanos’ apartment because Thanos had practically saved him from freezing to death in the alley outside of Club Pentagon had been even stranger. But now, as he sat on Thanos’ couch, wearing Thanos’ clothes, his hair smelling of Thanos’ shampoo, waiting as Thanos apparently cooked him a meal… Nam-gyu just couldn’t understand how this was the same Thanos who practically ignored his existence whenever they were within the walls of Club Pentagon.

As promised, it wasn’t long before Thanos returned from the kitchen, walking slowly so as to not spill the contents filled to the brim of the large, steaming bowl he held in his hands. “This is something my mom used to make for me whenever I got sick as a kid,” Thanos explained as he carefully passed the bowl over to Nam-gyu, then took a seat on the couch himself. “Well… kind of. I didn’t have a recipe or anything, so I had to guess on a lot of the measurements, but I think I mostly got it right.”

Nam-gyu looked down at the bowl, and saw that Thanos had made him soup, packed with vegetables and meat all cooked in a spicy broth… broth that Nam-gyu could tell was spicy before he even ate it, not just from the rich aroma wafting up from it, but also the unnaturally red colour of the soup. Even though Nam-gyu didn’t necessarily have the best spice tolerance, he didn’t hesitate to take hold of the large spoon Thanos had given him to eat with, as it was actually getting close to forty hours since he’d last eaten– a much longer time than the twelve hours Thanos had estimated. He thanked Thanos for the meal, got himself a hearty spoonful of a little bit of everything– some broth, a piece of something green, and a thin slice of meat and brought it up to his lips… 

Nam-gyu had to use every single ounce of the limited energy he had left to not spit the soup back out into the bowl. 

It was probably the spiciest thing Nam-gyu had ever eaten, so much so that his entire mouth felt like it was on fire after just one spoonful, but that wasn’t all; in addition to being the spiciest, the soup was also the saltiest thing Nam-gyu had ever tasted, and he couldn’t tell if that or the spice was worse, which one was more painful to his tastebuds.

Did he use a whole fucking cup of salt in this?! Nam-gyu thought in disbelief, as he forced himself to keep a straight face. Thanos had said he hadn’t followed a recipe, but… god, how did he fuck up this badly? 

The issues didn’t stop with just the broth either, unfortunately; the vegetables were undercooked and bitter, while the meat was overcooked and tough to chew. The combination of such… unexpected flavours and textures had Nam-gyu frozen for a moment, his animalistic instincts kicking in and telling him to not swallow the undoubtable poison he’d just put in his mouth… until Nam-gyu came back to reality, and remembered that the chef of said poison was sitting right beside him. 

Thanos sat on the couch, closer to Nam-gyu this time than he had been before, with an eager smile on his face as he waited for Nam-gyu to finish his first bite, to share his thoughts. Nam-gyu met his eyes… and forced himself to swallow, ignoring the painful burn down his throat and the overwhelming lingering taste of salt on his tongue as he said, “It’s good.” 

Even though it was a complete lie… the warmth that sparked in Nam-gyu’s chest at the sight of Thanos’ smile growing wider, lighting up his entire face, made Nam-gyu glad he said it, and even gave him the strength to go in for another spoonful. 

The soup didn’t get any better on his second try, and only became somewhat palatable once the spice had practically numbed Nam-gyu’s entire tongue and took away his sense of taste. He finally allowed himself some peace after he’d eaten almost half of the bowl before setting it aside, telling Thanos that he was full.

“I’ll save the rest for you to eat later, then!” Thanos happily told him as he carried the bowl back to the kitchen, and Nam-gyu could only bring himself to give a polite smile and nod, knowing that he wasn’t going to be taking even another sip of that soup. And yet… despite how bad it had tasted, there was one thing about it that made Nam-gyu unable to really hate it. 

That one thing being that Thanos had made it for him. 

Thanos once again returned to the living room quickly, this time bringing with him a glass of water that Nam-gyu was relieved to accept, as he washed away the lingering taste from his tongue and re-hydrated himself after the tonne of salt Thanos had added into the mouth had practically removed all the moisture from his mouth. 

“Anything else you need?” Thanos asked as he flopped onto the couch as well, relaxing back against the cushions as though he’d just finished up a hard day’s work. 

“I’m fine,” Nam-gyu said, shaking his head as he moved to set the glass back down on the coffee table, then sat back on the couch himself… even though, there was something still nagging at him. Something he’d been wanting to ask ever since he’d first turned around on that couch and saw Thanos standing behind him, but something he had no idea how to even bring up. 

… Something that must have been obviously hanging in the air between them, as barely a few seconds of silence had passed before Thanos was speaking again. “But?” 

Nam-gyu glanced over to him, an eyebrow raised. “But what?” 

Thanos shot him back an equally curious look. “You sounded like you weren’t finished there,” he said. “You know, like, ‘I’m fine, but…’ So, but what?” 

Nam-gyu hesitated, still a little unsure about being honest with Thanos, especially about this… but when the question was basically clawing at him from the inside, when it had been all day, and when Thanos was staring at him like that waiting for a response, Nam-gyu couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Why are you doing this?” he finally asked.

“Doing what?” Thanos said, his expression pulling into a slight frown. 

“All of this,” Nam-gyu said, gesturing to the couch they were sitting on, the clothes he was wearing, the kitchen where a pot of homemade soup resided– everything Thanos had done for him. “Last night, it would have been so much easier if you’d just dragged me back inside and gotten one of my coworkers to deal with me, or to send me to the hospital to get me off your hands. And now the… the clothes, the food… why? Are you just trying to butter me up so I’ll give you better treatment at the club, or what?”

A part of Nam-gyu was sure that that was it, that Thanos was just doing what he always did at the club anyway– being friendly with Nam-gyu until Nam-gyu could give him what he wanted. And Nam-gyu was falling for it, again. Being taken care of in the way Thanos had treated him, from the moment he’d picked Nam-gyu up in that alley, to giving him somewhere warm and comfortable to sleep, to cooking him a meal because he remembered that Nam-gyu said he hadn’t eaten in a while… it was working on Nam-gyu, because it was a sort of kindness that Nam-gyu just wasn’t used to, a sort of kindness no one really ever showed him before.

Which made it hurt all the more if it was all just an act for Thanos to get more drugs or more free drinks from Nam-gyu. And that was why Nam-gyu was asking him directly– to rip the bandaid off himself before Thanos could. 

Except… that rip never came. 

Nam-gyu was sure that that had been the motivation behind Thanos’ actions… until he saw the way Thanos’ face changed– as he cast his eyes down, as his mouth pulled into a straight line, as a shadow passed over his face. Nam-gyu only grew more confused as he watched… until Thanos spoke up and finally gave his answer. 

“Maybe I’m just trying to show you that I don’t only care about myself.”

In response, Nam-gyu let out a slight, involuntary wince– not only at the sudden bitterness in Thanos’ voice, but also at the repetition of the very words that Nam-gyu had spat at him the other night, the last time they’d seen each other, in the doorway of that cold alley. 

I know that all you see me as is someone who’s just here cater to every one of your fucking demands, the memory of Nam-gyu’s own words came back to him, sounding a little harsher as they replayed in his head now than they had sounded when he’d first said them, but I’m not– so maybe try and care about someone other than yourself for once, and give me a break from your bullshit for five fucking minutes, alright?

“Ah, come on, man,” Nam-gyu said softly, as he brought a hand up to run it over his face, rubbing at his tired eyes and brushing his hair out of his face. “I didn’t mean–”

“You did,” Thanos interrupted, though with these words he sounded… not angry, not offended, more so like he was just stating a fact. “Or else you wouldn’t have said it.”

Nam-gyu let out a sigh as he dropped his hand and looked back up at Thanos– meeting dark eyes that had also shifted to look back at him. For a moment, his instinct was to continue denying, to keep pushing that he hadn’t really meant what he’d said before, that he had been a little delirious from being sick and hadn’t been thinking clearly, all so that he could attempt to save whatever relationship he and Thanos had… but Nam-gyu had already broken through a barrier by being honest with Thanos in the first place by asking his question. He’d never confronted Thanos about that act of his before, but now that he had… he realized he didn’t want to let Thanos walk all over him anymore. 

“Well, can you blame me?” Nam-gyu said, trying to put some more conviction in his words. “I mean, you’re doing all of this for me now, and acting like you’re some kind of fucking saviour, when just the other night you spent the whole time you were at the club ignoring me until you needed something. And not just the other night– but every night you come into the club, actually.”

Thanos didn’t respond right away. He shifted on the couch, looking down at his hands as he restlessly fidgeted with the rings on his fingers to avoid Nam-gyu’s eyes, as his mouth puckered into a slight pout. Nam-gyu prepared himself for Thanos to get defensive, for his kindness to finally come to an end now that Nam-gyu was on to him, for him to throw Nam-gyu back out into the cold and for their relationship– for everything they’d had– to be over. 

What he didn’t expect, was for Thanos to let out a long sigh after a few moment’s thought, and for him to quietly reply with, “I guess I… have been a bit of an asshole lately.” 

“You guess?” Nam-gyu repeated in surprise, his eyes widening as he stared at Thanos. It was a confession he’d never expected Thanos to make in the first place, and yet… Nam-gyu still found himself shocked at the level of understatement. “You guess you’ve been a bit of an asshole lately, when every time you’ve come into Pentagon for the past, I don’t know, five years, you basically act like I don’t exist until you decide it’s time for you and your fucking friends to start barking your demands at me? You guess you’ve been an ass, when I make sure you get some of the best treatment in that fucking club, and you’ve never once said thank you for it? You guess you’ve been an ass, when the moment you no longer needed my help making sure your name stayed on Pentagon’s V.I.P. list, you practically kicked me to the side because I wasn’t useful to you anymore–”

But before Nam-gyu could finish his list of grievances, before he could finish listing out every one of Thanos’ actions that had hurt him in the past, his body cut him off by dutifully reminding him that he was sick, sending him into another aggressive coughing fit, each cough a harsh pain in his chest… almost as painful as the ache Thanos had put in his heart. 

“Okay, okay, take it easy,” Thanos said, and Nam-gyu suddenly felt the weight on the couch shift, as Thanos moved closer to him. He felt a hand on his back, and then something cold against his lips, and when his eyes fluttered open again Nam-gyu saw Thanos right beside him, holding the glass of water up to his mouth, urging him to drink. 

Nam-gyu emptied the rest of the water from the glass, washing away the painful dryness in his throat, but before he could find his voice again to tell Thanos to not tell him to “take it easy”, Thanos beat him to it. 

“Okay, yes, those were all huge asshole moves from me, alright?” he said, and the fact that he was admitting it surprised Nam-gyu almost as much as the… sincerity in his voice. “But… I don’t know, I didn’t think you cared about any of that, man!” 

Nam-gyu could only stare at him in confusion. “Why the hell wouldn’t I care about you treating me like an idiot?”

“I wasn’t–” Thanos said, defensiveness on his tongue before he quickly bit it, re-thinking his choice of words before he started again. “I didn’t think you cared about that, because, well… it never seemed like you even cared about me whenever I came around.” 

Nam-gyu couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It felt like the world around him had started to spin, making him feel far more disoriented than he’d been when he’d woken up from fainting. “What?” he said, his mind a blur with every memory of Thanos ignoring him at the club, of Thanos brushing him off, of what Nam-gyu always took as Thanos not caring about him. “Thanos, you’re the one who hardly ever speaks to me when you’re there, unless you want something from me.” 

Thanos moved on the couch, shifting to sit sideways and cross-legged– moving to a better position to look at Nam-gyu directly, giving Nam-gyu a full, direct view of his face as he arched an eyebrow in question. “That’s because every time I’m at the club and I’d look over at you, you’d already be off talking to some other person,” he said. “Ever since you became some big shot at Pentagon, getting you to refill my drink or get me my fix felt like the only way I’d ever get your attention.” Thanos let out a short breath, though one that was less like a sigh and more of a huff of frustration. “I always just felt like another one of your clients.” 

For a moment, Nam-gyu was speechless. For so long, Nam-gyu’s feelings towards Thanos had been nothing short of a confusing, complicated mess– feeling like they were now trapped on a one-way street, like the connection they'd once had had disappeared. 

He never knew, he never would have in a million years would have even considered… that the way he felt wasn’t as one-sided as he thought. 

“Ever since I became a big shot?” he repeated in disbelief. Sure, Nam-gyu had risen through the ranks of the club over the past few years, had grown far past his days of being the complete nobody he’d been when he’d first met Thanos, but… he’d hardly consider himself a “big shot”, especially not compared to the actual celebrity sitting beside him. “Thanos… ever since you finally picked up your career, I always thought that I was just… another employee at a club to you. Another server, another dealer, and nothing more.” 

“What? No, dude, of course you weren’t,” Thanos said, frowning. “You were… you were never just that. Look, there’s about a dozen different clubs around here that I could get into these days, that– to be honest– have a way better vibe than Pentagon. Why do you think I always come back?”

Nam-gyu couldn’t resist a quiet scoff. “Because at Pentagon, I give you free drinks,” he muttered. “And none of the other clubs around here will slip you drugs on the side.” 

Thanos rolled his eyes at Nam-gyu’s snark… and then surprised Nam-gyu, when he saw Thanos’ mouth curve into the faint beginnings of a smile. “Sure, but that’s not the only reason,” he said. Nam-gyu waited for him to elaborate, to share what the apparent other reasons were, but Thanos all of a sudden seemed hesitant to explain. He paused, looking down at his hands again (a habit of his, Nam-gyu noticed, that he did when he was perhaps feeling nervous), as though he would find the words he wanted to say somewhere in the dark lines tattooed on his skin.

As the silence dragged on, Nam-gyu was about to ask what this other mysterious reason could possibly be, when Thanos finally looked up at him again, and this time, his smile was stretched wide, and there was a sort of fondness sparkling in his eyes. “Ah, Nam-gyu,” he said, with a light chuckle. “You’re really going to make me spell it out for you? Because I wanted to see you.” 

Thanos’ words before had made it feel like the world was spinning around Nam-gyu– but now, it felt like everything around him, everything in the universe, had come to a sudden halt as he tried to process what Thanos was saying… what he was implying, what it all meant. He was too surprised to even really notice that for once, Thanos had gotten his name right. 

Nam-gyu only moved again once Thanos’ words really sunk in, and he felt his entire face start to grow warm– and not from his fever. Now, he was the one looking away, looking down at his own hands, curled into the green blanket that he and Thanos were sharing, and hoping that Thanos wasn’t paying attention to the redness of his face. “You could have made it a little more obvious,” he ended up saying, his voice low… as a small smile of his own crept onto his face.

Thanos let out a quiet laugh, one that almost sounded like relief, as he gave Nam-gyu’s knee a gentle nudge with his own from underneath the blanket. “I’ll try a little harder from now on,” he said, and when Nam-gyu looked up at him again, the smile that Thanos sent his way made Nam-gyu feel better than any dose of medicine he could have taken.

It would still be a few hours before Gyeong-su would get home from work, but now that the air between them was a little more clear, Nam-gyu didn’t mind spending those hours at Thanos’ place at all. 

Thanos offered to get him some more soup, but even though Nam-gyu was still a little hungry, he declined, as the taste from his first serving hadn’t fully left his mouth yet. If he was lucky, Nam-gyu would never have to taste Thanos’ cooking again… at least, not his “not following a recipe” cooking. 

“Want to watch a movie, then?” Thanos asked next, as he returned from the kitchen not with a bowl of soup, but with just a mug of hot lemon water for Nam-gyu's sore throat instead. Nam-gyu’s hands were still a little weak, a little shaky as he reached out to accept it– a shakiness that was not made any better when Thanos passed him the mug, and their hands brushed over each other’s, Thanos’ cool fingers against Nam-gyu’s warm ones. 

Nam-gyu agreed to the suggestion, figuring that they had to pass the time somehow, and as the dull throbbing of a headache began to once again pass through Nam-gyu’s skull, he didn’t think he had much energy left to really do anything more exciting. Thanos took back his spot on the couch, and though the couch was big enough for them both to stretch out on with plenty space between them, Thanos still sat close enough for his knee to bump against Nam-gyu’s when he crossed his legs, close enough for them both to sit under and share the blanket. 

Nam-gyu gave Thanos the freedom to pick the movie for them, but it quickly became clear to him that when Thanos had made the suggestion of watching a movie, he must have already had one in mind, as it was only seconds after turning on the TV that Thanos found one to watch. 

“How about this one?” he said, with a slight hopefulness in his voice as he selected the film, confirming to Nam-gyu that yes, Thanos definitely wanted to watch it. The one he’d picked was titled Squid Game, a recently-released film about a group of debt-stricken individuals entering a competition for a chance to win enough money to solve all their problems– the only catch being that if they lost any of the games, they also lost their lives. 

Nam-gyu glanced from the TV and over to Thanos, an eyebrow raised in question. “Isn’t this the movie that you’re in?” he asked… even though he already knew the answer. After all, how could he not be aware of Thanos’ first venture into the film industry, with his part in the movie playing the role of a disgraced rapper named T.O.P., when Thanos had been telling anyone who would listen about it in the weeks before the movie’s premier?

Thanos perked up a little at the question, his smile growing and his chest puffing out with pride. “Ah, keeping tabs on me, are you?” he teased. “Or– wait, are you just such a big fan that you already went and saw it in theatres yourself?” 

Nam-gyu rolled his eyes as he gave Thanos a playful nudge with his elbow. “You wish,” he said… and decided not to mention how Gyeong-su had indeed dragged him to the theatre to watch the movie weeks earlier on its opening night. Nam-gyu was sure he’d never hear the end of it if Thanos found that out. 

Thanos chuckled to himself as he put the movie on, before he and Nam-gyu settled down against the couch, getting themselves comfortable to watch. Though Nam-gyu had already seen it, he remembered rather enjoying it during his first viewing, so he didn’t mind watching it again. Even though he knew everything that was going to happen, he still found himself getting tense and holding his breath during the suspenseful parts of the movie, watching nervously as the characters fought for their lives playing children’s games. 

Thanos’ role in the movie wasn’t a huge one, but he still had a few solid scenes, and every time “T.O.P.” came on screen, Nam-gyu could see Thanos in his peripheral vision, smiling at himself on the TV. The character of T.O.P. in the movie wasn’t too different from the Thanos that Nam-gyu knew in real life, but the biggest change between character and actor, was that they had dyed Thanos’ hair back to his natural black for the role. It was a little strange, seeing Thanos without his signature purple hair, styled into his signature horns– the style that Thanos had been sporting ever since Nam-gyu had first met him years earlier. 

“Why’d they change your hair?” Nam-gyu asked, as they watched one of Thanos’ scenes, one where he got into a fight with his rival character, a guy named Si-wan. 

They were sitting so close to each other now, that when Thanos shrugged, Nam-gyu felt the movement of Thanos’ arm against his own. “I think they were worried that if I kept it as purple, people would only see Thanos, not T.O.P., you know?” he said. “When they said they were gonna dye my hair, I wanted to change it to another colour– I suggested blue, or maybe green, but they all got shot down.” 

Nam-gyu let out a soft hum of understanding, but as the scene came to an end and moved on to the next, he added in a slightly quieter voice, “I think purple suits you best, anyway.”

Thanos didn’t respond, but if Nam-gyu wasn’t mistaken, he thought that out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thanos’ dimpled cheeks flush pink.

They’d gotten about halfway through the movie when the day started to catch up with Nam-gyu, when a wave of exhaustion passed over him and made it increasingly harder for him to keep watching. Nam-gyu tried his best to keep his eyes open, trying to force himself to stay awake long enough to get to Thanos’ big scene (the one where his character, unfortunately, dies during a dramatic fight) later in the film, but as his eyelids started to get heavier and heavier with each passing second, it wasn’t long at all before he was dozing off, slipping into darkness again, just like he had in the early hours of that morning. 

Only this time, instead of collapsing in a dark and cold alley, he allowed himself to sink into the comfort of Thanos’ couch and bask in the warmth of Thanos’ presence beside him as he drifted off to sleep. 

When he eventually stirred awake again, the first thought that passed through his mind was that whatever pillow Thanos must have placed under his head as he slept, was uncomfortable as hell. 

It was hard against Nam-gyu’s temple, poking into his skull and surely not helping his headache. And not only that, but there was a painful strain in his neck, too– stiff, from the angle that his head was resting at. Nam-gyu let out a pained grumble as he woke, about to change positions on the couch to get himself more comfortable… until his eyes fluttered open, until he shifted his head slightly, and fully realized exactly what position he was in. 

Thanos had indeed given him something to rest his head upon as he’d slept, but it wasn’t a pillow at all… instead, he appeared to have given up his own shoulder. 

Nam-gyu looked down at himself– he was still sitting on Thanos’ couch, only at some point during the time he’d been sleeping, he’d once again fallen against Thanos’ body, his chest pressed up against Thanos’ arm and his head resting on Thanos’ shoulder. 

At first, Nam-gyu was afraid to move. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle the embarrassment he would feel from having to face Thanos like this, he was sure he’d simply die from the teasing Thanos would undoubtedly cast on him for this– when a noise cut through his worrying. 

A snore, one that definitely didn’t come from Nam-gyu. 

Keeping his movements slow, Nam-gyu shifted his head against Thanos’ shoulder, tilting his head back until he was looking up at Thanos’ face… Thanos’ sleeping face, his head leaning back against the top of the couch and his mouth open as he snored. 

Nam-gyu let a soft chuckle escape him as he set his head back on Thanos’ shoulder– which, now that Nam-gyu thought about it, wasn’t that uncomfortable at all. He closed his eyes again, and it was only minutes before he was falling into the best sleep he’d had all weekend… or perhaps ever.

*     *     *

Five Days Later 

This was the worst day of Thanos’ life. 

He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such a fate, to deserve such cruelty. He was a good person, wasn’t he? Sure, he’d made mistakes in the past, but hadn’t he also done enough good for those mistakes to be forgiven? And even if he hadn’t, surely the mistakes he’d made hadn’t been so bad that he deserved this as punishment? 

Thanos wasn’t religious or anything like that, but as he suffered, he thought that this pain must be the work of some kind of divine intervention, returning his karma back to him. 

As he walked out of his bathroom and back to his bedroom, a trip that his unsettled stomach had been forcing him to make all night long, as a fever scorched through his body, as his nose was so full of snot that he couldn’t breathe through it, there was one thing that Thanos was sure of. 

This was the worst day of his life. 

Thanos let out a loud, guttural groan as he flopped back down onto his bed, falling face first into his pillow. He’d started feeling a little unwell the previous morning, but hadn’t thought much of it. When he’d woken up late Friday morning, he assumed that his headache was nothing more than a mild hangover from one-thousand-won-shot-night at the bar he’d gone to on Thursday, after he’d been challenged by one of his friends to see who could do the most shots before tapping out or puking. When he’d first woken up, he assumed that his headache was nothing that a little pill and an afternoon nap couldn’t fix… but when he woke up from said nap on Friday night, sweating through his shirt and coughing so violently that it felt like he was tearing his throat up, he started to think maybe he wasn’t just suffering from a hangover. 

He had to cancel his Friday night plans, which was a pain, since he and Dae-ho were supposed to be going to Club Pentagon as usual, and Thanos had been looking forward to heading back to the club all week… for no particular reason, of course. 

Instead, Thanos spent his Friday night and Saturday morning rotating between lying in his bed, coughing his lungs up, and running to the bathroom to kneel over the toilet and expel from his stomach everything he’d eaten in the past day. 

Thanos could not reiterate it enough– this was the single worst day of his entire life.

He wasn’t sure what time it was when the aches and pains and nausea started to settle down a bit; all he knew was that he had been suffering for too fucking long, and for the first time since he’d woken up the previous morning, he started to feel some relief as his symptoms eased up just enough for him to finally doze off and get some sleep…

Until his fucking doorbell started to ring. 

Thanos groaned, this time more out of frustration than pain, as he shoved his head underneath his pillow to block out the sound. It was a tactic that didn’t work as well as he’d hoped, as when the doorbell rang a second time only a few seconds later, the noise still pierced through his ear. 

“Go away,” he muttered, even though his weak and feeble voice would never reach whoever it was on the other side of the door. And even though he knew that, Thanos found himself still getting annoyed when the person didn't listen to him and rang his doorbell for the third fucking time.

Thanos had enough after the fourth ring, especially when they added an accompanying knock on the door as well. “As if I didn’t hear you the first million fucking times,” he grumbled to himself as he finally dragged himself out of bed, stumbled out of his bedroom, and across his apartment to his front door.

With snot running from his nose, his hair an insane mess of bedhead, and feverish exhaustion twisting his face into a deep frown, Thanos angrily swung his door open, ready to curse out whoever thought it was oh so important to ring his doorbell four fucking times on the worst day of his life–

But when his tired eyes landed on that very person, Thanos froze, all of his anger and irritation disappearing in a flash… and being replaced with a warm, fluttering feeling in his stomach, rising all the way up to his heart. 

“Nam-su?” he said after a long moment of silence, then brought a hand up to rub his eyes, as he was sure that his sickness must have been making him see things. 

And yet, when he lowered his hands, when he blinked away the stars dancing over his vision and the blur cleared… there was Nam-gyu, standing before his doorway. 

Nam-gyu, looking much more healthy than the last time Thanos had seen him. Nam-gyu, smiling up at Thanos despite Thanos’ absolutely disgusting appearance of his own. Nam-gyu… wearing the bright green hoodie that Thanos had let him wear home when he’d left Thanos’ apartment almost a week earlier. 

“Dr. Nam-gyu heard that you weren’t feeling well,” Nam-gyu said, with a light chuckle as he took in the sorry state of Thanos... the state that Nam-gyu himself had undoubtedly put Thanos in, passing along whatever sickness he'd had first.

Thanos frowned, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Nam-gyu was here, standing at his door. “What– how the fu– what?” he stammered, his brain still too foggy to properly form sentences. 

“Dae-ho came to Pentagon last night,” Nam-gyu explained. “When I asked him why you weren’t tagging along, he said that you’d come down with something. And… well, I figured that I might have had something to do with that.” He raised an arm, lifting up the white plastic bag that Thanos hadn’t even realized he was holding until now; when he looked at it a little closer, through the translucent plastic Thanos could make out the outline of takeout containers and bottles of medicine. “So, I thought I’d… you know, come by and try to make up for it.” 

Thanos had been absolutely miserable for the past twenty-four hours. He’d done nothing but cough and sneeze and sniffle all day and all night long… but as he looked at Nam-gyu, as he realized why Nam-gyu was here, for the first time all day, Thanos smiled.

And as he stepped to the side to let Nam-gyu into the apartment, he thought that the worst day of his life had just gotten a little bit better.