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When Su-bong opened up the front door of his apartment, he felt relief at the darkness and silence he was stepping into.
This was unusual for him. Normally, he didn’t like coming home to… nothing. He liked being welcomed home, either by a greeting being called to him from across the apartment, by warm arms pulling him into an embrace, by the delicious smell of dinner wafting through the air from the kitchen, or just by the knowledge that there was someone waiting for him. He liked coming home to what felt like a home.
On any other day, returning to his apartment to find it so dark and so quiet and so lonely— either from no one else being home or, as was the case now, from Su-bong getting home so late into the night— might have turned his mood a little sour and left him grumpy.
But tonight… well, Su-bong didn’t feel like his mood could get any worse than it already was. And after the night he’d had, coming home to this silence was like a breath of fresh air.
He made his way through the apartment, not bothering to turn any of the lights on to guide his way. He decided to rely on his muscle memory to help him navigate through the darkness… which swiftly failed him when he remembered a moment too late that he had switched around the positioning of the couch in the living room on a whim the other day (he’d desired a change, something new to try and spice up their place), a reminder that came to him in form of him walking into said newly-positioned couch, painfully stubbing his toe and hitting his shin against the edge. He cursed sharply under his breath, not wanting to be too loud, but stealth had never really been Su-bong’s strong suit, and his pained voice echoed through the apartment.
The utterly exhausted part of him considered giving up— the thought of just flopping down onto the couch and falling asleep right there crossing his mind, but he knew his back would make him regret that decision in the morning if he did that, and so he forced himself to limp the rest of the way to his bedroom. He didn’t bother turning on the lights once he pushed the bedroom door open, either, although this time it was out of courtesy more than anything else. Su-bong pulled his shirt and pants off, tossing them both to the floor with only some intention of putting them away properly in the morning, and didn’t waste any more time before finally crawling into bed: the one place he’d wanted to be all night.
His eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the dark, but he didn’t need to be able to see to quickly find comfort underneath the covers. He lay flat on his back as he settled down against the mattress, letting his head sink into his pillow as he stretched an arm out to the side, underneath the warm body that occupied the other half of the bed. Su-bong moved slowly, gently, so as to not wake Nam-gyu, until he managed to slide his arm all the way under Nam-gyu’s shoulders, and could pull him a little closer.
When Su-bong held his boyfriend against his chest and ran a careful hand through his boyfriend’s hair, for the first time all night, Su-bong felt at peace.
Su-bong pressed a soft kiss to the top of Nam-gyu’s head, a silent wish goodnight that he hadn’t been able to give while Nam-gyu had been awake, and let himself relax back against the bed, his eyes fluttering shut… until a noise at his side jolted him wide awake again.
“What’s the matter?”
Su-bong’s heart was startled up into his throat as he flinched suddenly, a brief wave of involuntary panic and fright washing over him at the surprise of Nam-gyu’s voice cutting through the silence and darkness of the room.
“Christ, Nam-su,” Su-bong said through a sigh, bringing his other hand up to his chest, against his now-rapidly beating heart. “I thought you were asleep.”
“Was waiting for you to come home,” Nam-gyu replied, though from the slight, sleepy murmur of his words, the raspiness of his voice, and that faint trace of a yawn as he spoke, Su-bong suspected his Nam-su hadn’t quite succeeded in staying up. “What’s wrong?”
“You just scared the shit out of me, that’s what’s wrong,” Su-bong told him as he tried to catch his breath and settle his heartrate again, enough to fall asleep.
But, that answer didn’t seem to satisfy Nam-gyu. “That’s not what I’m talking about,” he said, and Su-bong could feel Nam-gyu slowly shaking his head against his chest.
Su-bong froze for a second, his breath caught in his throat and his words lost on his tongue; why did Nam-su have to be so good at reading him?
He thought for a moment, but all he could come up with in response was a simple, “Nothing’s wrong.” Simple, but… unconvincing. But you couldn’t blame him— Su-bong thought he’d have at least until morning to either fix his mood or come up with something better to avoid this whole conversation.
“I don’t believe you,” Nam-gyu told him, unsurprisingly.
“Well, you should. I’m fine.”
“You slammed the door shut when you came in,” Nam-gyu said, sounding much more awake now than he had when he’d first spoken up. “I heard you stomping around out there, too. You’re all tense”— Su-bong felt a warm hand on his stomach, moving up to his chest and then his shoulder which was, indeed, tense— “and you’re frowning.”
Su-bong raised an eyebrow, staring down at the silhouette of a shadow beside him; even when he concentrated as hard as he could, he couldn’t make out a single detail of Nam-gyu’s face. “You can’t tell what my face looks like in the dark,” he said, purposely only addressing that last point and ignoring all the other claims Nam-gyu made in an attempt to redirect the conversation.
There was a second of silence, and then the warm hand was removed from his shoulder… to move to his face instead, slender fingers against his lips and tracing the downwards curve of Su-bong’s mouth. “You’re frowning,” Nam-gyu confirmed as he lowered his hand. “And I can hear it in your voice.”
“Ach, you’re just imagining things because you’re still half-asleep,” Su-bong told him, wondering how the hell Nam-gyu could hear frowning, but also trying to eliminate any traces of it in his voice. “Go back to sleep.”
Another pause of silence, of stillness, made Su-bong think that maybe Nam-gyu had listened to him, that he’d successfully convinced Nam-gyu to drop the subject, that what he thought he’d heard was just his own half-sleep mind playing tricks on him and that he’d slipped back into that sleep that Su-bong had found him in… but Su-bong barely had time to sit in that hope before it fell apart in front of him. He felt Nam-gyu shift beside him, and then suddenly he could see Nam-gyu beside him, his boyfriend’s face illuminated by the small lamp on their bedside table.
His boyfriend’s face… that was staring back at him with a frown of its own.
“Why are you lying to me?” Nam-gyu said, his voice blunt and his words a little more sharp. Laying on his side, Nam-gyu propped himself up onto his elbow so that he could get a better look at Su-bong’s face— so that he could look directly into Su-bong’s eyes as he asked the question. “We agreed no hiding things from each other anymore. If you don’t want to talk about it right now, fine, but… but don’t lie to me and say you’re okay when you’re clearly not. I’m not a fucking idiot, Su-bong, I can tell when something’s up with you—”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Su-bong quickly interrupted, the twinge of hurt in Nam-gyu’s voice being enough for him to immediately drop the act and come clean; Su-bong’s heart always shattered when Nam-gyu was upset, but he couldn’t stand it when he was the one responsible. “I’m sorry,” he said again, his words sincere, but also a placeholder for the explanation Nam-gyu was waiting for.
Su-bong took in a breath, the night’s events bitterly replaying in his mind. He took a moment to consider his words, to figure out exactly what to say, how to put it… but after a few long seconds, he just sighed. There was just no easy way to say it.
“I wasn’t just going out to dinner with Min-su tonight,” Su-bong finally said. “The dinner… it was to meet with another record label.”
Nam-gyu’s frown deepened, though not with any anger, not with any irritation that Su-bong had expected. Instead, it just seemed like he was… confused. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, and his voice was a little softer.
Su-bong let his gaze drift across Nam-gyu’s face, taking in all the curves and lines and every detail of his boyfriend’s nose, his cheekbones, his mouth, his hair falling into his face… anything to avoid looking Nam-gyu directly in the eyes. He reached up with his other hand, running it through Nam-gyu’s dark hair and tucking a loose strand behind his ear before he finally answered. “Because I didn’t want to have to tell you if I got rejected again,” he admitted. He paused, then cast his gaze fully to the side before he added, in a quiet mumble, “Which I did, so…”
Silence fell between them again. Not a comfortable silence, like the kind they fell asleep in every night or the kind they found peace in when they didn’t feel the need to talk, when they were just enjoying each other’s presence. It was a kind of silence that held disappointment, sadness, grief, that grew heavier the longer it dragged on.
Su-bong waited for Nam-gyu to respond, to say something, but couldn’t blame him when Nam-gyu remained quiet, a glum expression of his own replacing his frown as he took in Su-bong’s confession, because what even was there for him to say? Su-bong had received so many rejections throughout his attempt at launching his music career that he’d lost count, and Nam-gyu had been there for many of the more recent ones; Nam-gyu had been his only support throughout it all, but even he had stopped with the hopeful reassurances of “it’s okay, the next one will work out” a few months earlier. After all… they agreed to stop lying to each other, hadn’t they?
“Anyway, the whole thing just put me in a shitty mood,” Su-bong continued, desperate to put this night behind him. “The recruiter that the label sent to meet with us was such a fucking dick. I mean, he wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he didn’t want to be there, he was so fucking condescending and was just spouting bullshit the entire time, and then to make things even worse the fucking restaurant got my order wrong and—”
But before Su-bong could finish listing all the things that had gone wrong that night, he was suddenly interrupted— cut off by a pair of lips against his, a soft kiss stealing all those angry words from his mouth.
Nam-gyu might not have been able to find any words to comfort Su-bong with, but he didn’t need to. As Nam-gyu kissed him, as his hand gently cupped Su-bong’s cheek— his hand warm against Su-bong’s skin, still cold from the winter air outside— and his body was a welcome weight against Su-bong’s, it gave Su-bong the first sense of comfort he’d felt all day. Nam-gyu’s kiss paused all of Su-bong’s thoughts for a moment, pausing his relay of the night’s events and allowing him to come back up from the spiral of anger he was getting himself into; Nam-gyu’s kiss felt like the breath of air that just saved him from drowning.
When Nam-gyu eventually pulled away, he didn’t go far. Just enough to gaze down at Su-bong beneath him, for his eyes to meet Su-bong’s as he ran his thumb along Su-bong’s cheek, for Su-bong to see the faint smile pull at the corner of Nam-gyu’s mouth. Not exactly a happy smile, but… one that Su-bong still found comfort in seeing.
“You’re tired,” Nam-gyu told him, his voice gentle as he moved his hand up to carefully brush purple strands of hair out of Su-bong’s eyes. “Let’s go to sleep, hm?”
Even if it might have sounded like it, Su-bong knew well enough that this wasn’t just Nam-gyu brushing him off, changing the subject so as to not deal with Su-bong’s woes, his failures. Because Nam-gyu… his Nam-su, he wouldn’t— he was pretty much the only person who even gave a shit about Su-bong’s feelings in the first place, the only person who made Su-bong feel like he was something. So even if it wasn’t explicitly in his words, Su-bong could still understand what Nam-gyu meant by them, even if he didn’t say it.
You’re too upset— get some rest, and if you want to talk about it, we can when you’re feeling better.
He could hear it in Nam-gyu’s voice. He could see it in Nam-gyu’s warm gaze and soft, sympathetic— though not pitying— smile. He could feel it in Nam-gyu’s kiss, a comfort that always managed to calm Su-bong down when he needed it.
A soft breath escaped Su-bong, and out with it went some of that tension, that stress he’d been carrying with him all night. He looked up at Nam-gyu for a moment longer, memorizing every detail of his boyfriend’s face to try and get rid of all those frustrating and angering thoughts in his mind and instead replace them with the face he loved most in the world, before tilting his head up to steal one more kiss.
“Okay,” he agreed after eventually pulling away, knowing that Nam-gyu was right anyway; getting mad about it all over again would just make him feel worse than he already was, and he was fucking exhausted.
Nam-gyu gave an approving nod, and as he shifted in the bed to reach over behind him and turn the lamp back off, Su-bong settled down into the bed again. He rolled over onto his side, and only a second later he felt Nam-gyu at his back, the curve of his body fitting perfectly against Su-bong’s, as he curled his arm around Su-bong’s waist and held him close. Through the darkness, Su-bong managed to find Nam-gyu’s hand underneath the covers and lace their fingers together; even when they were laying together like this, Nam-gyu’s chest flush against Su-bong’s back without enough space for even a breath to pass between them, Su-bong still could never get enough of Nam-gyu’s touch.
He felt a soft kiss against the nape of his neck, and then a faint breath against his skin as a quiet goodnight was whispered into the darkness, but exhaustion had caught up with Su-bong, and before he could respond, he was being pulled under into the world of his own mind.
The first time he stirred awake, Su-bong could still feel Nam-gyu against him, Nam-gyu’s arm loosely draped over his body and his face nuzzled against Su-bong’s back. He still felt too tired to even bother opening his eyes, but through his eyelids Su-bong could sense the faint, warm glow of early morning sunlight sneaking in through the bedroom window. To escape facing the day for a few hours longer, Su-bong rolled over onto his other side, and pulled the covers up a little higher over both himself and his Nam-su. He felt the press of Nam-gyu’s cheek against his chest and the light nudge of Nam-gyu’s knee against his thigh as his boyfriend curled up against him, and Su-bong took his turn wrapping his arm around Nam-gyu’s body, holding him closely, before drifting back off to sleep.
When he woke up the second time, Su-bong’s arms were empty and the other side of the bed was cold. He cracked one eye open, and now with the entire room lit up by what must have been late morning sun, he confirmed his suspicion that Nam-gyu had actually gotten up and out of bed, and not that he’d just moved to lie out of Su-bong’s reach. Disappointment ran through him briefly, and Su-bong considered following Nam-gyu’s lead and getting up as well… but he hadn’t just gone out for dinner the night before, and the many, many drinks he’d had with Min-su at the bar after their disaster meeting seemed to be making a reappearance, now as a pounding headache within Su-bong’s skull. Su-bong let out a quiet groan, let his eyes fall shut again, and pulled the covers up and over his head, escaping that morning light.
He wasn’t sure how long had passed when he eventually stirred awake for the third time; the only thing he was aware of as he floated back into consciousness was the rumbling of his stomach, which told him that it was finally time to actually get up. He dragged himself out of bed, and despite that sunlight shining in through the window there was a slight chill in the room that breezed over Su-bong’s bare skin and led him to the closet to get dressed. He dug around through his wardrobe (though in his groggy, still slightly-asleep state of mind, didn’t seem to notice that the clothes he’d thrown on the floor the night before had been picked up and put away), and after a minute of looking settled on one of Nam-gyu’s hoodies and a pair of old sweatpants before he finally made his way out from the bedroom.
In his search for Nam-gyu, a rich, sweet scent filling the apartment drew Su-bong immediately to the kitchen, where he found two things that gave him a little boost in his mood, that made the beginning of his day a whole lot better than how his last one had ended. The first was, of course, his Nam-su— standing at the stove, wearing one of Su-bong’s shirts that was far too big for him and nothing else, the hem of the shirt coming down to the middle of his thighs and leaving the rest of his legs bare.
A sight to start off Su-bong’s morning on the right foot indeed.
The second thing was the smell that had led him to the kitchen in the first place. A warm, buttery smell that only deepened Su-bong’s hunger as he walked up behind Nam-gyu to investigate further. His hand found the small of Nam-gyu’s back, then slid around the curve of his waist to rest on his hip as Su-bong fit himself at Nam-gyu’s back.
“Good timing,” Nam-gyu said in response to Su-bong’s touch, to Su-bong pressing a gentle good morning kiss to his cheek. “I was just about to come wake you up.”
“What’s this?” Su-bong asked as he rested his chin down against Nam-gyu’s shoulder, his gaze passing over the countertops and the many bowls and utensils— most of them looking like they were covered in some kind of batter— scattered along it, before looking back over to the pan Nam-gyu was giving his attention to. It was covered with a lid, so Su-bong still couldn’t figure out exactly what the source of that smell was… until Nam-gyu, with a spatula in hand, finally lifted the lid of the pan, revealing what looked like two round, golden pancakes sizzling in the pan.
Su-bong’s mouth watered as a wave of that buttery, sugary deliciousness wafted up from the pan, pulling his lips into a smile. “Hotteok?” he said with excitement, watching Nam-gyu transfer both rounds onto a plate.
Nam-gyu gave a hum of affirmation, and Su-bong showed his gratitude by tightening his arm around Nam-gyu’s waist and planting several kisses all over his face.
“Ah, calm down,” Nam-gyu told him, though he didn’t make any attempt to escape Su-bong’s hold. “It’s not a big deal. I was just craving it, so I decided to make some.”
Su-bong raised an eyebrow at him, though Nam-gyu was too focused on moving another two balls of dough— the rest hidden from Su-bong’s eyes on a plate underneath a towel on the countertop— into the pan to notice. “But you don’t like hotteok,” he said, knowing for a fact that Nam-gyu always passed on the treat whenever Su-bong got one from the cart on their street that sold them, because Nam-gyu wasn’t a fan of sweets.
But Nam-gyu only shrugged as he continued with his cooking, flattening the ball of dough with his spatula, the hot oil in the pan sizzling as it fried the dough and melted the sugary filling inside. “Here, taste,” he said in response, not addressing Su-bong’s statement and instead bringing Su-bong’s attention over to the plate at his side. With his free hand, Nam-gyu ripped off a small piece of dough from the pancake fresh out of the pan and lifted it up to Su-bong’s mouth, which Su-bong accepted without hesitation.
It burned his mouth immediately, to the point where Su-bong wondered how Nam-gyu had held it between his fingers so easily; but despite the heat scorching his tongue, Su-bong still savoured the taste of the sweet dough— crispy on the outside from the frying oil, yet still soft and fluffy on the inside. It was simple, but incredible, and he knew it would only be better along with a bite of the sugary filling.
He slipped his hand from Nam-gyu’s hip to reach for the plate, but Nam-gyu was quick to give his hand a gentle slap before he could rip off another piece for himself. “Ah, ah,” Nam-gyu tutted at him. “Not until I’m done with the rest.”
Su-bong gave a small pout— more playful than truly disappointed— but as he set his chin back on Nam-gyu’s shoulder, returned his arm to wrap around Nam-gyu’s waist again, he didn’t push any further, and just watched his boyfriend prepare the rest of their meal.
Well… his meal. Su-bong already knew that Nam-gyu wouldn’t be eating them, because Su-bong knew his Nam-su. He knew that Nam-gyu didn’t like overly-sweet things— that’s why he drank his coffee black and always passed on dessert, unless it was fruit; Nam-gyu may have turned his nose up at anything too sugary, but he did enjoy stealing the fresh fruit that garnished the cakes Su-bong often bought for himself.
Su-bong knew his Nam-su, and that was why he didn’t push any further on questioning why Nam-gyu would be “craving” a snack he didn’t like… because he knew that this was just what Nam-gyu did. That he’d go out of his way to do something, such as spend an hour making hotteok dough from scratch, just because he knew it would cheer Su-bong up. He’d act like it was no big deal, like it was nothing… when really, it was everything to Su-bong.
Nam-gyu did that all the time. Many of those times in the kitchen, with one of Su-bong’s favourite meals and that familiar reasoning of “I was craving it anyway”. Other times, when he picked up on when Su-bong was feeling particularly tense under the weight of his career failing before it had even started, but always claimed that “Pentagon has been stressing me out lately, I need to get away from it all” before bringing him out of the city for a weekend, sometimes even just for the day, to give Su-bong a much needed break and reminder that there’s more to his life than his failed attempts at making Thanos work. A few times, when Su-bong had been in a really bad spot, Nam-gyu had even pretended to be sick and called out of work, just to stay home with Su-bong, and giving an unconvincing response of “do what? I really do have a migraine” when Su-bong tried to tell him that he didn’t have to do this for him.
He’d done it even before they started dating, too. Su-bong would never forget the time he came into Club Pentagon with a shitty, handmade poster to promote a tiny gig that Thanos would be putting on in a couple weeks at a different, less popular club. He’d given it to Nam-gyu (at the time, they’d been friendly with each other, but Su-bong had thought that their relationship was nothing more than that of employee-customer) and had asked him to put it up in Pentagon, to tell other guests and the club staff about the show; the next time Su-bong had returned a few days later, he saw copies upon copies of the poster plastered on the walls all throughout the club, on telephone poles and streetlamps outside the building, too, and even along the alley that most of the club guests slipped out to to take a smoke break. It had been so much more than Su-bong had expected, than he ever could have asked for, and though Nam-gyu hadn’t been working that night, Su-bong made sure to find another employee to pass along his thanks to Club Pentagon for agreeing to promote him.
Su-bong would never forget when that employee had told him that Club Pentagon itself had nothing to do with it— that Nam-gyu had gone and made copies of the poster on his own time, and had come in early before his shift to put them all up himself.
Nam-gyu treated Su-bong so well, he always had… and he never took credit for it. He was more than Su-bong knew he deserved, and Su-bong could only hope that Nam-gyu felt all of his appreciation, all of his love in return.
When there was only one more hotteok left to cook, Su-bong finally peeled himself off of Nam-gyu, making his way over to the coffee machine sitting over on the other side of the countertop, the sharp scent of the brewed coffee in the pot mixing with that of the sugary hotteok in the air. Nam-gyu shook his head when Su-bong asked if he’d already had some, so Su-bong pulled out a mug from their cabinet and poured a cup for Nam-gyu— black, with a small spoonful of sugar, just the way Nam-gyu liked it. Though, Su-bong never really understood why… even when he added so much milk that the drink turned a pale brown and more than triple the amount of sugar Nam-gyu took, the distinct taste of coffee was still always too bitter for Su-bong to enjoy. Su-bong had no fucking clue how Nam-gyu could drink and enjoy it black, with the tiniest amount of sugar in it.
But… his Nam-su did like it, so Su-bong still happily made it for him every morning.
He brought it over to the table just as Nam-gyu finished frying the last hotteok, transferring it over to the ready plate before he joined Su-bong at their kitchen table— a small and heavily used piece that they’d found on the street with a Free sign on it, with a broken leg that made it slightly wobbly, equipped with two mismatched chairs even though it could technically fit four, because two was just enough for them. Su-bong dug into the food immediately, sleeping the morning away having made him starved, as he ripped apart one of the steaming pancakes with his hands and bit directly into the centre, burning his mouth again but still savouring the taste of the delicious, sugary centre.
As Su-bong had expected, Nam-gyu didn’t eat much of his own cooking, despite “having been craving it”. He did take one for himself, but just picked off pieces from around the edge, nibbling on pieces of plain dough in between sips of his coffee, and left the part with the filling for Su-bong to finish off; Su-bong didn’t complain, and didn’t hesitate to do exactly that.
Su-bong was on his third hotteok by the time Nam-gyu finally spoke up again, his voice just as soft as it had been when he’d spoken to Su-bong in the middle of the night, only now, there was a slight hint more of… concern, to his words as he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me about last night?”
The question left Su-bong frozen for a second, right in the middle of chewing, before he forced his eyes upwards, forcing himself to meet Nam-gyu’s gaze. His boyfriend was leaning forward against the table, one hand curled around his now-empty mug, and the other underneath his chin, his elbow propped up against the table as Nam-gyu stared at Su-bong. He didn’t look angry, or judgemental, or… anything, really. His expression was steady, as he just watched Su-bong with careful eyes, waiting for a response.
Su-bong looked into Nam-gyu’s dark eyes, then back down to the dark filling of his pancake. He was silent for a moment longer before finally swallowing, though when he gave his answer it sounded just as defeated as the one he gave last night. “I already told you,” he said quietly, setting the pancake down and wiping his greasy fingers on a napkin.
Nam-gyu grew silent again, and Su-bong hoped that his dismissive non-answer would be enough to end the conversation there, to signal to Nam-gyu that not much had changed from the night before in that he still didn’t really want to talk about it. Su-bong kept his gaze down at the half-eaten hotteok on his plate, but out of the corner of his eye saw Nam-gyu take another sip of his coffee, and thought that maybe Nam-gyu had received his signal and given up… until his voice broke through the silence of the kitchen again.
“I meant… why didn’t you want me to know if you got rejected again?”
Su-bong couldn’t bring himself to look at Nam-gyu. The best he could do was shift his gaze from his plate to Nam-gyu’s arm resting on the table, to the Lucky 7 tattoo on the inside of his wrist, obscured slightly by the mug his hand wrapped around.
I don’t want you to be disappointed in me, Su-bong thought, scanning the English letters across Nam-gyu’s wrist and thinking about how their lives had been anything but lucky. I don’t want to keep bringing home bad news, failures. I’m afraid of the day that I bring home one too many and it makes you realize that you made a mistake with me. I’m afraid of the day you’ll realize you can do better than me.
It wasn’t the first time Su-bong had had those thoughts. They’d been lingering in the back of his mind, occasionally creeping to the front, pretty much since the first time he and Nam-gyu had kissed, since Nam-gyu had asked him out on a real date after months of Su-bong thinking that his feelings weren’t mutual, since the moment Nam-gyu became such an important part of Su-bong’s life. Meeting Nam-gyu was the best thing that had ever happened to Su-bong, the moment that changed his life, that set him on a track for things to finally start getting better…
But Su-bong just wasn’t used to good things lasting long for him. And after almost half a year of being with Nam-gyu… Su-bong could only wonder when Nam-gyu would grow tired of him, when he would finally have enough of him. When his own importance would fade from Nam-gyu, and Su-bong would end up alone again.
Su-bong didn’t know how many more fuck ups he had left before he drove Nam-gyu away, just like the others. So, he did his best to hide them where he could. Unfortunately for him… Nam-gyu was more observant than Su-bong was sneaky.
With the silence between them stretching on for a little too long, Su-bong forced himself to speak before Nam-gyu could push further. He finally looked up, still not quite meeting Nam-gyu’s careful gaze but no longer looking down shamefully, and gave a theatric click of his tongue, followed by an equally dramatic sigh. “Ah, I don’t want to bore you with all that stuff, Nam-su,” he said, keeping his tone light, playful… even though it was all an act. “I’m just… I’m waiting until I can bring you good news, okay?”
He tried to brush it off, to act like the rejection wasn’t really bothering him, like he wasn’t playing cool because he really was embarrassed about having to tell Nam-gyu about another failure… but just like the night before, Nam-gyu wasn’t so easily convinced by Su-bong’s attempt at distracting him.
With his chin still resting in his hand, Nam-gyu tilted his head slightly, his cheek squishing against his palm in a way that was so adorable, it almost distracted Su-bong from the next words Nam-gyu spoke. “I don’t just want the good news, though,” he said. “I want to know about these things, too. I don’t want you to keep things from me, even if they’re bad.”
His voice was gentle, calm, but through his collection Su-bong could still make out a slight lilt of… hurt. The same kind he’d heard in Nam-gyu’s words the night before, when Nam-gyu had turned the light on to face him, to ask Why are you lying to me? with a look on his face that had made Su-bong’s own heart hurt.
He didn’t like lying to Nam-gyu, of course he didn’t, but… it was just instinct. Not for any malicious reasons, but rather as a learned defence, to hide all the bad parts of himself, to hide his flaws and his failures so they wouldn’t drive people away, to live under a permanent mask that made him more acceptable, tolerable.
It was self-preservation, something that Su-bong had ingrained so deeply in himself for so long… a habit that Nam-gyu was the first to try and break. For the first time in his life, Su-bong had someone who wanted him to take that mask off, and someone who would help him do so. For as long as he and Nam-gyu had been together, it was still something that Su-bong hadn’t quite gotten used to… but he tried. He tried to get better, he wanted to get better, despite how unfamiliar and how uncomfortable it was at times. It went against everything he’d told himself for practically his whole life, but he still tried. He knew he had to, for his Nam-su.
Su-bong let out another sigh, this one with none of the theatrics, none of the act— just a quiet, slow exhale to get rid of all the bad, to reset… and when he took in his next breath, he finally stopped avoiding Nam-gyu’s eyes. “Okay,” Su-bong said, just a single word filled with apology and promise, as he reached across the table and ran his hand up Nam-gyu’s arm. Nam-gyu lifted his head from his palm as Su-bong’s hand reached his wrist, and he gave Su-bong’s hand a tight squeeze as their fingers interlocked.
Finally, a small smile returned to Nam-gyu’s face, and Su-bong couldn’t resist giving his boyfriend’s hand a slight pull, signaling to him to lean forward as Su-bong did the same. They met in the middle, and when he pressed a gentle kiss to Nam-gyu’s lips, Su-bong could taste the bittersweet taste of black coffee mixed with sugary hotteok… but more than that, the taste of the promise of love Nam-gyu made to him every day, a promise that hadn’t wavered since their very first kiss.
It was a taste that Su-bong could never get enough of, one he’d never get tired of, one that kept him going even when his days were at their worst. It was a taste, a feeling, a salvation that kept Su-bong living… and he hoped Nam-gyu could taste the same promise, the same devotion, in his kiss in return.
Despite their slightly bumpy morning, the rest of the day went by easily. They finished up their breakfast (Nam-gyu taking the plate of hotteok away after Su-bong had eaten four and was about to reach for his fifth, claiming Su-bong would make himself sick if he ate anymore), and Su-bong did the dishes as Nam-gyu made himself a second coffee. They had no plans for this Saturday, so they retired to the living room and Nam-gyu caught up on several episodes of a show he liked, but had been neglecting for a few weeks, while Su-bong sat beside him and worked on mixing the track of his newest song on his laptop. They had lazy afternoon sex on their couch and took a long shower together afterwards, never spending too much time away from each other’s side. As the evening crept up on them they ordered delivery from their favourite restaurant for an early dinner, and Nam-gyu added in an extra order of Su-bong’s favourite dish without being asked. And even though he really hadn’t done much all day, even though the day had been pleasant enough to boost his mood from the night before… by the time night rolled around again and Nam-gyu was getting ready to go to work, Su-bong didn’t feel up for joining him.
“You sure?” Nam-gyu asked him, leaning over the back of the couch where Su-bong sat, draping his arms around Su-bong from behind and resting his chin against Su-bong’s shoulder. “I could pull some strings and get you a room. You can even pretend to be a huge dick and keep demanding that I personally serve you so that I can stay with you.”
It was a tempting offer, and Su-bong considered it. It wasn’t an every time thing, but the nights that Nam-gyu could pull those strings and get Su-bong into a private room without him having to pay for it were always Su-bong’s favourite nights at the club; even when Nam-gyu couldn’t make it work, Su-bong still did enjoy spending his weekends at Club Pentagon with Nam-gyu, keeping him company during his shifts and taking advantage of Nam-gyu’s employee discount… but that night, the loud and lively environment of a nightclub just wasn’t one Su-bong wanted to be in.
“I’ll pass tonight— I gotta finish this up,” he said, gesturing vaguely over to his laptop sitting on the coffee table, which he’d abandoned earlier when he and Nam-gyu had gotten… distracted with each other.
Although, he didn’t have to, not really, and they both knew that. It wasn’t like Thanos had a manager on his ass about a deadline for finishing the song, it wasn’t like he had a label waiting for new music; it really wouldn’t make a difference if Su-bong finished his song that night or the next day or never— it didn’t matter when he had no one waiting to listen to it.
He didn’t say that, though, and Nam-gyu didn’t bring it up either. And if Nam-gyu found Su-bong’s response— excuse— unconvincing, too, he didn’t try to get the truth out of him like he’d done earlier. Though he seemed a little hesitant about leaving Su-bong like this— from the way he let out a quiet, almost defeated-sounding sigh and his arms tightened ever so slightly, ever so protectively, around Su-bong— he didn’t push, he didn’t try to persuade Su-bong any further. Instead, he just pressed a kiss to Su-bong’s cheek before standing up straight, letting his arms slide off of Su-bong’s chest.
“Well,” he said, walking around the couch to head towards the front door, “if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Su-bong did, but even as he watched Nam-gyu leave, as the apartments grew silent in his departure, as loneliness approached him, he doubted the rest of his night would stray far from what he had planned.
… That is, until it reached about three in the morning.
He’d only worked on his music for less than half an hour after Nam-gyu had left before he gave up, still feeling discouraged from the previous night’s rejection and being overly-critical of himself, never feeling satisfied with how the track was coming out. It hadn’t been long at all before he ended up angrily shutting his laptop and throwing it to the other side of the couch, then decided to ease some of his tensions and get his mind off of it all by digging into his stash and getting himself high. It was just the distraction he’d needed, easing him out of any of his negative thoughts and instead filling his mind and his body with a pleasant buzz, a pleasant high that took him out of it all for a little while.
When he eventually started coming down, sobriety and exhaustion found him at the same time, and as he was lightly drifting in and out of sleep, he was suddenly jolted awake by a sharp noise cutting through the silence of the apartment— his phone.
He fumbled around for the first few rings, as he could hear his phone but couldn’t see it anywhere; when he finally pulled it out from where it had gotten wedged between the couch cushions, he didn’t waste any more time answering the call once he saw Nam-gyu’s smiling face staring back at him, the image Su-bong had set as his boyfriend’s contact picture back when they’d first started dating. Su-bong flopped back down onto the couch, raising his phone to ear and ready to greet Nam-gyu, to ask how his shift was going; on the nights that Su-bong couldn’t accompany Nam-gyu to the club, it was common for Nam-gyu to call him on his breaks, to spend those few free minutes with Su-bong at his ear. Sometimes he’d let out his frustrations by ranting about stupid customers or his coworkers, other times he’d ask Su-bong to just talk about whatever was on his mind to distract him from the chaos of work for a while, but no matter the reason for his call, Su-bong always enjoyed seeing Nam-gyu’s face appear on his screen.
Only this time, before Su-bong could even speak up and say hi, Nam-gyu beat him to it, his voice quick and urgent as he skipped the greetings and pleasantries and just said, “Come to Pentagon.”
Su-bong frowned, thinking that he must still be a little out of it, that he must have misheard Nam-gyu. He gave a quick “Huh?” in response, trying to ground himself as best as he could to make sure he was understanding Nam-gyu properly.
And yet, when Nam-gyu spoke up again, it was with the same request: “Come to Pentagon.”
“Why? Are you okay? Is something wrong—?”
“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” Nam-gyu told him, once again speaking quickly, as though he was on some kind of time limit. In the background of the call, Su-bong could hear the bump of music, telling him that Nam-gyu was making this call from inside the club, rather than his usual calling spot in the staff break room or in the alley outside the building. “Just come, okay? And quickly.”
Su-bong let out a quiet sigh, and hoped that Nam-gyu couldn’t hear it through the phone. “I don’t know, Nam-su,” he said. “I’m not really in a clubbing mood…”
“I know, but… please? It’s important.” This time, when Nam-gyu spoke, his words came out a little softer, a little more… hopeful, like he was pleading. And when Su-bong still hesitated, Nam-gyu tried one more time. “I have a surprise for you.”
Su-bong took a moment to think about it. It was getting late, he was tired, and heading out to a club at three in the morning wasn’t exactly what he had planned for the rest of the night… but, he also knew that Nam-gyu wouldn’t be asking him to come if it wasn’t actually important. And Su-bong couldn’t deny it… he did like surprises.
“I’ll be there soon,” he finally said into the phone, and he could almost imagine the smile spreading onto Nam-gyu’s face from the relief, and what almost sounded like excitement, in his voice as he said a quick Thank you before hanging up.
It was only a fifteen minute walk from their apartment to Club Pentagon, but before he went to make himself look more presentable for whatever surprise awaited him at the club, Su-bong called a taxi to come pick him up anyway. At this hour on a January morning, it was close to freezing temperatures outside and Su-bong didn’t want to spend any additional time out there in the wind than he had to. By the time he’d changed into an outfit more suitable for the club than an old T-shirt with holes in it and Nam-gyu’s sweatpants and had had somewhat tamed his messy, purple hair into a cooler style, he was alerted that the car he’d ordered was waiting outside for him, and he quickly headed down, not wanting to keep his Nam-su waiting.
As the taxi navigated the crowded city streets— busy from groups of people drunkenly trying to make their way home after a night of partying, or those looking to keep the party going by making their way to their next club— Su-bong stared out the window, people-watching and wondering what was waiting for him, what the night was about to have in store for him. He knew that Nam-gyu would never set him up for anything bad, but… he still couldn’t help but feel a slight wave of nerves through him, considering most of the news Su-bong had been getting recently hadn’t been of the good kind.
When the car finally came to its final stop and Su-bong hopped out into the frigid night, he noticed that the line outside of Club Pentagon was a little longer than usual; Pentagon was a decently popular club in this part of the city, but not really one to have its entry line down the street and wrapped around the corner, like it was now. But whether the line had five people or fifty didn’t matter to Su-bong— he knew he wasn’t going to be waiting in it anyway.
There were a million and one good things about dating Nam-gyu, just one of them being that Su-bong’s name had become a permanent addition to the exclusive VIP guest list for the club… even if Su-bong didn’t exactly meet the standards for said exclusive VIP list. And while nobody at the club knew that Su-bong was Nam-gyu’s boyfriend, whatever reasoning Nam-gyu gave his managers or the bouncers for getting Su-bong that special access must have been convincing enough, because every time Su-bong walked up to the club and the bouncer at the door saw him and his recognizable purple hair, he was always let in right away with no trouble and with no cover fee.
Though the inside of the club was even busier than the street outside, sweaty bodies cramped close to each other on the dancefloor and moving to the beat of electronic music, it didn’t take long for Su-bong to find exactly who he was looking for. Nam-gyu was never really one to make his way to the dancefloor (Nam-su had two left feet and no rhythm, but Su-bong thought that that only made it cuter whenever he and Nam-gyu drunkenly slow danced together in their living room late at night), and just as Su-bong expected, he quickly found his boyfriend standing near the bar at the back of the room. He was chatting with one of the bartenders— Se-mi, Su-bong thought her name was— as she prepared two drinks, but just as she slid them across the bar into Nam-gyu’s hands, Nam-gyu looked up and out into the crowd, and his eyes landed on Su-bong.
The lighting in the club was dim, but the smile that broke out on Nam-gyu’s face when their eyes met was bright enough to light up the entire building, the entire city. He placed the drinks back onto the bar and said something to Se-mi, probably telling her to find someone else to bring those drinks out to customers, before he peeled away from the bar and began pushing his way past people to make his way over to Su-bong. When they finally met in the middle, Su-bong didn’t get the chance to ask what he was here for, what this so-called surprise was, or to even just say hi before Nam-gyu was grabbing hold of his wrist and pulling him through the club, away from the crowds.
“Nam-su, what the hell?” Su-bong said as he was getting dragged forward, having to raise his voice to make sure he was heard over the music blaring from the speakers. “What’s going on?” But if his questions did manage to reach Nam-gyu’s ears, he chose not to answer, staying quiet until he had brought Su-bong over to a back corner of the room, near the door that Su-bong knew led to the staff-only areas of the club.
When they finally came to a stop and Nam-gyu turned to face him, that smile was still strong on his face as he gave Su-bong’s wrist a light squeeze. “Listen— don’t make it obvious, but you see those guys over there? The ones in the booth closest to us?” Nam-gyu’s eyes quickly flickered over to something behind Su-bong, tilting his head in a slight, subtle nod… which Su-bong followed by whipping his head around entirely, looking over his shoulder and not really succeeding in “not making it obvious”. He scanned the club floor, where one of the walls was lined with booths reserved for Pentagon’s most exclusive guests… and when he took in the one closest to him, and the people occupying it, the hope he’d built in his chest broke a little.
“Yeah,” he replied, trying not to let his disappointment show in his voice. Nam-gyu seemed so excited, and Su-bong didn’t want to make Nam-gyu feel bad.
“You remember Myung-gi, don’t you?”
Those next words then quickly turned the disappointment into confusion. Su-bong turned back to face Nam-gyu, his eyebrows pulled together as he tried to figure out Nam-gyu’s plan. “I remember when he fucking rejected me from his record label, yeah,” Su-bong said, and though the memory brought with it some pain, Su-bong really was more puzzled than anything else.
At first, he’d thought that Nam-gyu just hadn’t remembered Su-bong’s attempt at joining SG Records; after all, it had been almost a year ago by now, and one of the very first rejections that Nam-gyu had actually seen unfold. Su-bong had been sure that Nam-gyu had simply forgotten about that one— since it had been from before they’d started dating, and because of all the other failed attempts that had followed— and that he’d forgotten how that bastard Lee Myung-gi had been the very one to give Su-bong that harsh rejection that SG Records would not be pursuing a contract with him, in less polite words. Nam-gyu had introduced Su-bong to plenty of people in the music industry through his ties from Pentagon, and Su-bong had thought that he’d simply forgotten that Su-bong had already met Myung-gi… but now, it seemed as though Nam-gyu remembered perfectly well.
So why the hell did he call Su-bong down to the club for this? Lee Myung-gi was someone Su-bong never wanted to see again— what the hell was Nam-gyu thinking?
“Okay, but— do you see the guy sitting next to him? The one holding a drink?” Su-bong looked back towards the booth, his gaze drifting from Myung-gi and over to the person seated at his side. “That’s Gyeong-su,” Nam-gyu continued. “He and I used to work together, way before I started at Pentagon, and back then, he always told me he wanted to go into the music industry. I haven’t spoken to him since we both left that old club, but when he came in tonight, he saw me and recognized me— and guess what? He works at SG Records now. He’s a recruiting agent, and he works with Myung-gi.”
Su-bong still struggled to connect the dots, the ones that made it so important for him to come to the club at three in the morning. “Okay… so?”
“So, he and I were talking earlier, and since he’s pretty new to the whole agent thing, he was asking me about Pentagon’s clientele,” Nam-gyu went on, his voice with that same excited pace he’d had when speaking to Su-bong over the phone. “You know, asking if we have any regulars that are into music, any that could be promising new artists, anything like that. So— I told him about you.”
Huh. That certainly wasn’t how Su-bong was expecting the dots to connect. “What? I already blew it with SG, though, you know that—”
“You got rejected by Myung-gi,” Nam-gyu interrupted, bringing his free hand up and pointing a knowing finger at Su-bong. “But, I played one of your songs for Gyeong-su, and he loved it. And now, he wants to meet with you.”
Nam-gyu’s obvious excitement was making him speak faster, but all of this news being thrown at Su-bong all at once was a lot to take in, and he was still a few sentences behind, trying to comprehend it all. “Wait, but— but Myung-gi already said no, and he and I didn’t exactly leave things on good terms,” he said, thinking back to the… argument he and Myung-gi had gotten into the last time they’d seen each other. “If this Gyeong-gyu guy works for him, there’s no way that fucking asshole is ever gonna let me—”
But once again, Nam-gyu seemed to have already come up with a solution. “It’s Gyeong-su,” Nam-gyu corrected him. “And he already talked to Myung-gi. I did too, and we convinced him to give you a second chance.”
“What? How?” Su-bong cast another quick glance over his shoulder, just the sight of that bastard’s stupid face was enough to put him in a bad mood. “Last time I saw him, he told me if I ever stepped foot in SG Records again he’d call the police,” Su-bong grumbled as he turned back to face Nam-gyu before he got mad.
Nam-gyu gave a slight shrug, as though this entire thing was just something casual and not the most insane news Su-bong had heard in months. “We talked you up,” he explained. “Told him that your music has improved a lot since that time you and him met, that you… cleaned up your act a little.” Nam-gyu took a slight pause, then, before a slightly different smile took over his face and he lowered his voice. “And… I may have reminded Myung-gi about the kind of activities he gets up to when he comes to Pentagon, and how it would be such a shame if an anonymous tip sent the police to SG Records with a warrant for drug testing.”
Su-bong’s eyes grew wide, both with shock and a little bit of impressed amazement. “So you blackmailed him?”
“I wouldn’t exactly say that,” Nam-gyu replied, though his smile told Su-bong that that was exactly what he’d meant. “But really, it was mostly Gyeong-su’s doing that got Myung-gi to agree. He really likes your music, Su-bong. I played him your most recent song, and he couldn’t get enough— he listened to it, like, three times in a row, and he’s already asking me to send over more of your stuff. I have a good feeling about this one, so…” Nam-gyu finally let go of Su-bong’s wrist, then raised his hands to Su-bong’s shoulders to give him a light push backwards, in the direction of the booth behind him. “Go make a good impression, alright?”
But Su-bong could only stay still, looking at Nam-gyu with shock… he didn’t know what to say. Nam-gyu’s words were still processing in his mind, his brain still trying to make sense of it all; a part of him thought that this couldn’t be real, that he must have fallen asleep after getting high and that this was all some weird fucking dream. After years of trying to launch a career as Thanos, after more rejections and failures than he could keep track of… Nam-gyu had been right— this really was a surprise. That someone actually liked his music, that someone in the industry saw something in him worth taking a chance on, that there was someone who actually wanted to help him make Thanos work.
That Nam-gyu would do all of this… for him. That Nam-gyu hadn’t given up on him.
Su-bong didn’t know how long he’d been frozen for, just that it must have been long enough for Nam-gyu to take matters into his own hands; he reached out and turned Su-bong around himself, then gave him another slight push towards the dancefloor. Nam-gyu’s hands on his back did jolt him out of it a little bit, enough for Su-bong to finally remember how his legs worked and to take another step forward himself, his eyes set on the smiling man— Gyeong-su— sitting at the booth before him. He walked a few paces forward, towards his future… but then stopped, and swiftly turned around again. He was met with Nam-gyu’s smiling face, though that smile was quickly exchanged for a frown when their eyes locked on each other, when Nam-gyu realized Su-bong had stopped. Nam-gyu opened his mouth, likely to ask Su-bong why he wasn’t going, but before he could, Su-bong reached out and grabbed Nam-gyu’s wrist, this time pulling him even further away from the dancefloor.
Su-bong could hear Nam-gyu’s confused “What are you doing?” as he brought the both of them through that Staff Only door they’d been standing in front of, out from the main floor of the club and into a quiet, empty hallway. Once the door swung shut behind them, Su-bong let go of Nam-gyu’s wrist, and before Nam-gyu could ask any other questions or grab Su-bong and drag him right back out there, Su-bong raised his hands up to Nam-gyu’s face, cupping his cheeks, and pulled him into a kiss.
Nam-gyu’s surprise seemed to melt away quickly as he realized what this slight detour really was, as Su-bong pressed him against the wall and his hands found Su-bong’s waist, their bodies pressing against each others’ as they melded into one.
In that empty hallway, dimly-lit and only faintly receiving the music coming from the next room over, Su-bong could have stood like this for the rest of the night, letting his meeting with SG Records go by unattended. But… he knew he couldn’t. Not when Nam-gyu had pulled these kinds of strings, had given him this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; so, after several, several long seconds, Su-bong finally pulled away from their kiss, but stayed close to Nam-gyu for a moment longer. With his hands still against Nam-gyu’s face, one of his green-painted thumbs gently running along Nam-gyu’s cheekbone, his eyes fluttered open to look down at his boyfriend’s face, and Su-bong whispered something into the silence between them.
“I love you.”
As that silence dragged on for a few seconds longer, Su-bong felt his heart skip a beat in his chest. He was barely paying attention to the sounds of muffled music anymore; the only things he was focusing on was his Nam-su, Nam-gyu’s eyes as he slowly opened them up as well, as he looked up at Su-bong… and Nam-gyu’s smile, as it once again reappeared on his face, and Su-bong felt like he could finally breathe again.
It was the first time he’d said those words— those three simple words he had thought of practically every day for the past six months, those words that he felt every single moment he was with Nam-gyu… but just hadn’t yet spoken aloud. He’d thought the words I love you about Nam-gyu hundreds of times— probably even a hundred times in a single day, but… he’d never yet said it. Su-bong might have been a songwriter, but sometimes… sometimes, he just wasn’t good with words. With saying what he really meant, with being honest about his true feelings, with being vulnerable.
It wasn’t that Su-bong had any doubt about his and Nam-gyu’s relationship, any hesitance about his love for Nam-gyu, any uncertainty about the mutuality of their feelings; Nam-gyu himself had already said those words, having been the first to take that step in their relationship. And when Su-bong had heard that confession for the first time, as well as every other time following it, he had always given the same, unwavering answer: I love you, too. It was honest, it was real, it was always full of all the love Su-bong felt in his heart, but…
But that was all it had been so far— a response to Nam-gyu saying it first. And now… now, Su-bong had finally taken that step as well, he’d finally said it, but it also… it meant so much more than just those three words he said.
I love you, it meant. I can’t imagine not having you around. I want to spend my life with you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you, Nam-gyu.
And perhaps Nam-gyu could understand that, as well. Just like Su-bong could always feel the love Nam-gyu put into every single one of his kisses, perhaps Nam-gyu could hear everything he had put into those three words, from the way his cheeks flushed a faint pink, the way his smile grew even wider, from the way he pulled Su-bong back into another kiss and murmured an I love you, too against his lips.
It might have been the greatest kiss of Su-bong’s entire life.
So much so, that Su-bong couldn’t help but feel a little sad when Nam-gyu pulled away, and this time pushed Su-bong away as well, separating them even further. “Okay, go— get back out there,” Nam-gyu told him, taking his hands from Su-bong’s waist to gesture towards the door, leading back to the main area of the club; Su-bong couldn’t help but notice that in addition to his smile, Nam-gyu’s cheeks had turned a slightly darker pink, and that he seemed to have a little daze in his eyes as he spoke. “Quickly, before that asshole Myung-gi changes his mind.”
At any other time, just the mention of Lee Myung-gi could have been enough to put Su-bong in a bad mood for the rest of the day— but on this night, things were different. Not because that bastard was going to be any less insufferable, but rather because Su-bong had someone else to meet, as well: this mysterious Gyeong-su, the first person to see potential in him and his music.
Well… more like the second person.
Because as Su-bong pressed one last kiss to his boyfriend’s lips, one that said Wish me luck and Thank you and I love you, again all at the same time, as Su-bong turned and made his way back down the hall, as he pushed his way through the Staff Only door again and entered the club once more, making a bee-line for the closest booth…
He wasn’t thinking about Myung-gi. He wasn’t thinking about Gyeong-su. He wasn’t even thinking about Thanos, about his music, about his career.
Instead, all that was on his mind at that moment was his Nam-su, as he wondered what the hell he’d ever done to deserve a love like Kim Nam-gyu’s.
Maybe Su-bong really did have some good luck in his life, after all.